#Lurk & Learn

[jadeannbyrne]

Jade Ann Byrne Reddit Call to UpD00T - https://www.Reddit.com/u/JadeAnnByrnePRO

Jade Ann Byrne Reddit Call to UpD00T – https://www.Reddit.com/u/JadeAnnByrnePRO https://www.reddit.com/u/JadeAnnByrnePRO/ Hay Jadettes, unhinged lurkers, secret supporters, celebs and brands I ghost write for, the other that get mystery shopped by me, and anyone who like the internet ad free and quality content. I just launched my brand-new Reddit Professional account—and let me tell you, I’m…

[thevoidstaredback]

So, everything I've read says that Gothamites don't celebrate Halloween because the Rogue Gallery all like to amp it up on this day specifically.

Can I offer a different storyline? Specifically the exact opposite?

Gothamites love Halloween. It's like their Thing™. The Rogue Gallery don't all attack at once on this night because it's the one night a year that they can get away with not having to look over their shoulders.

Since the very founding of Gotham, Halloween has been celebrated and held in better regard than pretty much any other holiday. At first, it was accidental, but then the founders said "fuck it" and renamed their town Gotham.

Pretty much every one of the Bats and Rogues grew up in Gotham, so they'd hold this day with the same reverence as the rest of the population. Which is, to say, the crazies crawl out of the woodwork, but not to wreak havoc.

Parties, festivals for the whole week, no school, only essential work, trick or treating, the works. Gothamites pull out all the stops for Halloween because no one ever expects it.

To the rest of the world, Gothamites are distrusting of everyone. Danger lurks around every corner. Crime runs rampant. Trust does not come easy, and it's near impossible to gain.

Put the week of Halloween? It's their Thing™. The magic everyone knows runs through the city like veins light up the streets like it's Christmas somewhere. Lady Gotham herself graces her people with her presence, however fleeting her sightings may be. The spookiness factor of their beloved city, though cursed she may be, is ramped to the highest heavens.

It's exactly why they invite people to visit during this week.

Normally, Gothamites hate visitors for a variety of reasons. Most of which is because transplants and guests don't know how to react to certain situations, nor do they carry the proper equipment with them.

The week of, and especially the day of, Halloween is the one time a year that no native Gothamite has to worry about an attack because the Rogues are too busy pranking the visitors with the rest of the city! Even the Bats and Birds get in on it!

It's all fun in games, really.

Sometimes Bludhaven will get in on it, following Nightwing because he was raised in Gotham for a good chunk of his life, but they're less Halloween and more Harvest Festival.

Anyway, the TDLR, I guess is this:

The week of Halloween is the one time a year that Gothamites drop all suspicion towards each other, band together, invite visitors, and prank the ever loving shit out of the world.

And it works every year, without fail, because people don't learn. The festivals and parties are too enticing to pass up because Gotham just looks like the place to be for a good scare. And boy do they deliver

[verfound]

WIP Wednesday: 04.17.2024

This was not supposed to be an entire series rewrite??? And it's not??? Sorta???

...anyway, we're Mystik Spiral Kitty Section, but we're thinking of changing our name.

It all came together so quickly after that.

While Rose was out, they hauled some equipment up to the roof: a drum kit that was hanging around the basement studio (that Jagged hadn’t actually used since the air had broken), Juleka’s bass, Luka’s favorite guitar, and a few amps.  They spitballed ideas while Rose was gone, tossing around potential band names and set lists.  When Rose finally came back, a mountain of a boy was lurking behind her.

“Ivan!” Marinette cried, her eyes widening in surprise.  He waved sheepishly while he rubbed the back of his neck with his other hand, his eyes trained on the floor.  His face looked flushed, but that could have been the heat.  “You play?”

“…a bit, yeah,” he mumbled.  “Myles says I’m good, but I think she’s biased.”

But as it turned out, Mylène wasn’t biased.  Ivan was honestly, truly good.

“…this might actually work,” Luka said, nodding as Rose screamed a metal version of his dad’s first single into the mic.  He turned to Marinette with a grin.  “Sure you don’t want to join?  We have a tambourine hanging around somewhere.  Anyone can play a tambourine.”

“Weren’t the tambourine players mostly eye candy?” she asked, her nose scrunching adorably.  He chuckled and shrugged, looking back at the little makeshift stage they had set up.

“Maybe,” he said.  His smile softened.  “Maybe I just like having you around.  It could be something fun to do together, like Rose said.  Maybe we’re all gonna suck and the band’s gonna need some eye candy to distract whoever’s watching from how bad we sound.”

Her eyes widened at the look he gave her, heat flooding her face.  She turned back to the stage with a cough, shaking her head.

“I-impossible,” she said, sitting up straighter.  “You can’t suck — you’re performing on a Jagged Stone album, Luka.  You’re amazing.”

“That’s not skill, though,” he said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.  “That’s nepotism.  You know there’s no way I’d be on the track if I wasn’t his kid.”

“Give yourself some credit,” she huffed.  “XY being top of the charts?  That’s nepotism.  You know the only reason that idiot’s gotten anywhere is because his dad owns the label.  You, though?  Yeah, your dad being who he is helps, but you’re good, Luka.  He wouldn’t let you play if you weren’t — you know it’s just as much about making himself look good as it is giving you a foot in the door.”

He couldn’t stop the little smile that quirked his lips as he glanced back at her.

“Not a big XY fan?” he asked, and she snorted as she tipped her head back.  His smile grew a little at the indignant expression on her face.

“Please,” she tsked.  “I like real musicians.  Besides, I’m kinda over blonds.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but the song was wrapping up and Rose was calling for his attention again.

“So?” she asked, bouncing by the mic.  “Is he in?”

He glanced back at Marinette, who was grinning at him as she nodded, and he sighed as he shrugged.

“Ok, if Ivan’s cool with it, I’m in,” he said, and Rose’s squeal — especially echoed back in the mic — was loud enough to make them both wince.  She started jumping and turned to Juleka, throwing her arms around her neck and hopping onto her.  Luka laughed as Ivan nodded, saying he was in, and whistled to catch Rose’s attention.  “Ok, ok!  Rose, since this is your band…what should we call ourselves, anyway?”

“How about…” Rose hummed, tapping on her chin as she looked up.  She looked back at Luka with a manic grin, snapping her fingers.  “Kitty Section!  And I have just the song to debut at the festival!”

“…o…k,” Luka said, nodding.  “I can roll with that.  Heard weirder names.  Do we even want to know what the song’s about?”

Rose’s grin was as dangerous as ever, her eyes lighting up in a way they had all learned to be wary of over the years.

“Unicorns.”

[ao3feed-narlie]

Timeless Love & Endless Night

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/C8k5r2J by ilvie Amidst the uncertainty of university life, Nick finds solace in his unexpected connection with Charlie, a captivating and mysterious boy. As their relationship blossoms, Nick senses an otherworldly presence surrounding Charlie—an allure that both enchants and unsettles him. As whispers of secrets and strange occurrences surface, Nick is pulled deeper into a hidden world where danger and desire intertwine. Navigating his feelings for Charlie and the enigma of his past, Nick must confront the shadows lurking in the corners of their lives. In a journey of self-discovery and love, he learns that some truths are more powerful than they seem, and that the heart's longing can lead to both beautiful and perilous paths. Words: 3819, Chapters: 4/?, Language: English Fandoms: Heartstopper (TV), Heartstopper (Webcomic) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: M/M Characters: Nicholas "Nick" Nelson, Charles "Charlie" Spring (Heartstopper), Victoria "Tori" Spring, Michael Holden (Solitaire), Tao Xu, Elle Argent, Tara Jones, Darcy Olsson, Isaac Henderson (Heartstopper), Sarah Nelson, David Nelson (Heartstopper), Benjamin "Ben" Hope, Imogen Heaney Relationships: Nicholas "Nick" Nelson/Charles "Charlie" Spring, Nicholas "Nick" Nelson & Charles "Charlie" Spring, Elle Argent/Tao Xu, Tara Jones/Darcy Olsson, Michael Holden/Victoria "Tori" Spring Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/C8k5r2J

[thesunshineriptide]

I think an overblot Sebek would be interesting to see! Or maybe an overblot Rook?

This is honestly gonna end up going into crack territory so I’m so sorry to all of y’all. Also i will continue making edits because they’re fun! Anyway they’re kinda short but please enjoy

Cw// racism (against beastmen), body horror-ish, body dysmorphia, psychological distress, physical violence, overblots

Overblot Sebek

The faithful retainer of the faerie prince, fallen from grace? What an interesting thought.

Sebek has never been one well liked among the school, nor his kind. As a half faerie, he learned to be hated and to hate himself in turn. He verbally abused the students around him, condescendingly telling them, “not bad, for a human…”

The beckoning, too good to be true, and the promise given by a powerful faerie rung around his head for too long. He shunned it, at first, as nobody could be so powerful as what they’d claimed.

He pushed off the thought for weeks, focusing harder on his studies. Perhaps, if he were…

The faerie returned to him later, offering him a potion in an emerald green bottle.

Sebek drank it down. He screamed as he shed his human half, leaving him as a full fledged faerie. He thought this would make him feel better, make him feel more worthy. Make him better.

He found that his new form only served to scare others away. He didn’t feel the same, but he didn’t feel more powerful. Simply…less himself. It was nearly a month of this adjustment before he went to Malleus and Lilia, begging them to help undo it.

“I can’t undo a boon granted, Sebek. I’m sorry.”

This was a punishment, wasn’t it? He didn’t understand. Malleus is powerful, insanely so. Sebek was loyal, wasn’t he? He only ever wanted to help, he did this because he wanted to be better, to be able to protect someone. Humans were weak, having a half human guard made him weak, didn’t it?

Sebek sobbed, begging Malleus, asking what he had done wrong.

He became so overwhelmed, so distressed, felt so abandoned, that he overblotted.

His overblot form was more reptilian than he had been before. His teeth were even sharper, his eyes narrower. He looked more like a beastman than a faerie, but acted like neither. He simply acted like a wild animal, snapping at those around him.

He didn’t mean to. He didn’t want to be this way, but he had made a terrible mistake.

It didn’t take much to end the battle and return him to his (new) normal. After a lot of coaxing and encouraging, Lilia and Malleus found ways to help with his new adjustment. Malleus hadn’t lied when he said he couldn’t reverse it - the spell, he physically could not break, though it was also against faerie law to do so.

Sebek got better. He learned to be himself, even if he looked different. He took potions to help with any urges he didn’t know what to do with, he took careful care of his appearance to help with body dysmophia. Overall, he recovered, even if life looked a little different now.

Overblot Rook

Rook is a little difficult to imagine overblotting, isn’t he? I mean, he’s a rather happy guy who finds the beauty in everything. His signature spell he admits isn’t super powerful or even strong. So what on earth could cause him to overblot?

For me, I think it could be one of two things. Someone is completely intent on ruining every piece of joy he can find, irritating him to the point of actually managing to get him violent, or something magical is influencing his behavior

A new student appeared in Pomefiore, a sulking, sad type much better suited for Ignihyde. He was constantly around, lurking at corners. Everything Rook said, every praise he gave freely, was contradicted by this…this plebeian.

The blatant disrespect for the artistry and beauty of the world! The insults to his interest, the constant berating of those trying their finest to improve, it’s simply diabolical in Rook’s eyes.

What starts as annoyance begins to amp up the more this person harasses him, poking at any ‘weakness’ and being honestly just…awful.

“Beastmen seem so dirty and gross. The sunset savannah sounds dry, and underdeveloped. I feel bad for the people there that Leona’s their prince, he barely qualifies as a student”

Rook is seeing red before he can think, honestly. He’s got this student pinned down, kneeling on the center of their back. His fingers dig in painfully to the crook of their neck, and his teeth almost look like fangs right now.

“Say it again.” He hisses into their ear, causing the student to start shaking in fear.

The shadow of a huntsman leers behind Rook’s crouched form. One of its arms is a hunting knife, the other carries the heart of a pig that pumps with each moment.

He’s not terrifying in terms of magic, but his ability to run, hunt, hide, and attack is unparalleled. He’s fast, he’s strong, and he’s incredibly dangerous to anyone that fucks with him.

He has no issue taking out his classmates, though he doesn’t do anything to permanently cause pain. A free broken legs, a few people chained to a wall to keep them out of the way, a close eye on anyone who could take him out easily and a quick ensnaring of his prey leaves the pool of people who can fix this very slim.

It’s the teachers, and specifically Vargas, that have to step in and end this. Rook never took much mind to the coach, but that was a mistake on his part. Coach has him knocked out in roughly five minutes of a fight and is already carrying him to the infirmary.

Rook will honestly never make up with the student that made him overblot. He will, however, apologize to his classmates when he’s recovered because now people flinch away from him.

Also the student that pissed him off transferred to a different school

[teruthecreator]

we all know kris can play the piano. but consider the following: 

noelle plays the guitar. she’s been playing since she was little because her mother wanted her to learn an instrument and noelle wanted to learn the same instrument her sister was playing (dess learned guitar from rudy). she inherited her father’s old acoustic guitar after everything with dess goes down, but she doesn’t really feel comfortable playing it because of all of the Emotional Baggage. so, as a christmas present, her parents get her an electric guitar and an amp. she usually only plays when her mom isn’t home because she knows how noise travels through the house, and she teaches herself a lot of metal songs (to impress susie, mostly, but also bc she’s genuinely a metalhead and has been for years) 

susie starts to learn the bass when she becomes friends w kris. not like they know how to play, but the dark world provides a plethora of musically-inclined people that susie never would’ve known before. specifically, i think it’d be funny if ralsei knew how to play string instruments? he probably plays some form of a lyre, but once you know one vaguely-guitar-shaped instrument you know them all. the reason susie picks a bass, rather than a guitar, is because she likes how it sounds. low and funky; the bass lurks in the background of every song, providing ample support to the much louder guitar riffs and vocal performances. and, in finding herself in this friend group she is starting to slowly accept as family, she realizes she rather likes not having to always be the loudest person in the group and that supporting can actually be...pretty badass. (plus she finds a bass for cheap on Monster Ebay, so she’s working with what she got) 

berdly is a percussionist. this is HIGHLY indulgent because i used to play the drums, but i also feel like drums work surprisingly well for berdly? they’re more tactile and reliant on rhythm, which berdly would have more of an affinity for (being an avid gamer; a hobby that requires tactile use of your fingers). if hometown highschool had a marching band, berdly would be the drumline captain. he just has that vibe. he just screams percussionist in the high school band to me, i really can’t explain it. i also think it gives berdly the opportunity to really let loose in a way that he doesn’t allow himself to do. being the “smart kid” doesn’t allot for a lot of opportunities to go crazy or goof off, but sitting in front of his drumset for an hour or two a night gives him the privacy to really spread his wings (both literally and figuratively). he picks up a pair of drumsticks from the school when they Attempted to have a band class, and just...kept them when the course ended up falling through. his one and only School Crime. eventually, his father notices berdly drumming beats on everything and decides to buy him a snare, which then spirals into berdly being gifted a full drumset for his 15th birthday. it sits in the half-finished basement, along with a lot of the family’s storage, and berdly takes care in making sure his drums are the nicest thing in that room. 

ALL OF THIS TO SAY: lightner gang garage band au when

[itsclydebitches]

Really left-field, but can I recommend a video to you? It's by a bloke named Adam Millard - "How Subnautica Uses TERROR." I think it'd be right up your alley. It talks about all the techniques Subnautica uses to effectively distinguish itself from other horror games by using subtlety, ambiance, and deliberate withholding of information. It's so damn good and it does such a great job explaining how Subnautica managed to carve out its niche.

That video was great! I’ve loved Subnautica for a long time, but it’s only recently that I’ve sat down to do my own (hopefully) complete playthrough and I’ve been thinking about these same techniques. I’m particularly interested in how terror coincides with knowledge, or the lack thereof. After all, that’s the entire point of the game: to explore. Your AI straight up tells you that your only objective is to survive  — not find a way off the planet  — so don’t stray far from your habitat, and as Adam’s bit about the lifepods attests, the little you learn early on basically screams, “EXPLORING IS DANGEROUS. DO NOT ENGAGE. THERE ARE HUMAN REMAINS IN THE DIGESTIVE TRACTS OF NEARBY LIFEFORMS. VERY BAD. OMG JUST STAY HOME WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU.” In a real Subnautica situation you’d make like the Degasi survivors and just stay put as long as you’re able, but because this is a game we’re positioned to do the very thing we know we shouldn’t do. And that knowing freaks us out. 

The more you learn the more you can defend yourself... and the more dread you experience because now you’re well aware of all the potential dangers lurking about. Both ignorance and knowledge become their own forms of terror. But what I love about the design is how even the learning itself is crafted to be as heart-pounding as possible. Take our scanner. That bastard takes forever to gather data... which is exactly the point. In a game less interested in a creep factor, scanners would work from a safe distance instantaneously. Here, you have to get reeeeally close and scan for a long time, often without pause (not easy with a wiggling fish trying to eat you) and the end result is often a message that says, “Assessment: Dangerous. Do not approach.” Yeah thanks I figured that out already!! But the real terror isn’t, say, trying to scan an ampeel while you skillfully dodge its attacks, it’s wondering the whole time when a boneshark is going to grab you from behind. 

...can you tell what sort of experience I had last night? T__T

But now combine that feeling of “I need to explore, but exploring is terrifying, and all it does is confirm my instinctual knowledge that doing this was a miSTAKE” with a generalized feeling of helplessness. Adam covered most of that  — isolation, a lack of lethal weaponry, visually dark areas  — but I’d like to add both the creatures that remove our agency and the very mystery of the game. We’ve got stuff like Mesmers that force you to do the very thing you don’t want to do, swim closer, all while warping the PDA to tell you lies. Can’t trust that knowledge anymore. I mean sure, the actual attack isn’t bad, but that’s not the point. The point is the terror as you’re slowly pulled in and spend that time wondering what might happen. Terror is about anticipation and dread, not the event itself (the horror). As for the mystery, we’re sick! We are sick with an alien infection that you eventually learn killed Bart, so suddenly exploration is necessary. You need a cure. Now, obviously as a game there’s no imposed time limit (that I’m aware of anyway). You can spend however long you want bopping around the reef without passing from Kharaa, but emotionally that knowledge amps up the terror. You don’t know on your first play through what sort of constraints you might be under, so best find that antidote fast! By doing the terrifying exploration... :/

All of which is a long winded way of saying thanks for the vid and everyone who wants to play should avoid spoilers as much as possible. Enjoy Subnautica with as much terror as possible! 

[maine-writes]

Vonvon's Space Adventure, Part 2

"When we heard that you needed to be sat upon, we were all so excited to offer our services." said White Diamond as she sat at her extremely large command seat.

Vonvon looked around at all the gems diligently working at their posts, operating the strange space vessel. A large screen on the front wall revealed the vast void of space, the silvery light of passing stars streaking through it like lines of bright paint. They were hoping that the Diamonds knew that they weren't supposed to literally sit on them, but was also hoping that they'd never have to explain why a certain weird Mayor of Beach City would leap at the opportunity to be "sat upon".

It wasn't long before they arrived on Homeworld, one of the perks of developing faster-than-light travel. The child marveled at the sight on the viewscreen; a glowing, alien world with two rings of satellites and crystalline fragments. Patches of green, pink, yellow, blue, and white illuminated the world. In Vonvon's eyes, the world seemed alive.

When they landed on a hovering, crystalline platform, Vonvon and White Diamond were greeted by the sight of a group of waving Quartz soldiers.

"Beginning with Era 3," White Diamond began, "All Gems were free to pursue whatever lives they desired, and we Diamonds nurtured and encouraged a sense of curiosity and self-worth in all Gems. Some chose to explore the greater universe, others were curious about the world called Earth, whilst others chose to remain on Homeworld to help it heal and grow."

As the pair approached the happy Quartz guards, Vonvon could hear a faint, but growing, yell in the distance. Zipping through the crowd, Spinel appeared.

"Vonvon!" cried the excited pink Gem as she wrapped her rubber hose arms around the small child. "It's been so long! How've you been? How's Steven? La gasp! How's Connie and Steven, about time they get some alone time together, huh?"

It was nice to see Spinel again.

"Now, now Spinel." White Diamond intervened, plucking the small Gem and seperating her from the suffocating child. "You will get your chance to catch up with Vonvon. But we must bring them to Blue and Yellow, after all, they worked so hard to make their stay as comfortable as possible."

"Right, right, right." Spinel yapped. "I'll bring them to them!"

"I'll make sure their chambers are prepared." said the Diamond.

"Will that be the nice chamber or the bad chamber?" Spinel asked.

"The newly refurbished chamber."

"Oh right, the old bad chamber. It's so nice."

Spinel led Vonvon down a yellow, crystalline road that floated over a sea of strange trees. Ahead of them was a large, yellow pyramid.

"What's with the trees?" inquired the child.

"Ever since things have started changing around here, the Gems here have been trying to fix the world." Spinel explained, "The Diamonds thought Homeworld was dead, but with the help of our favorite Peridot, we found that it was just sleeping."

"Does anything live down there?"

Spinel then grimly grabbed ahold of Vonvon's shoulders, peering into their soul with bloodshot eyes.

"Dark things lurk in among the trees, Vonnie." whispered the Gem. "It comes at night, stealing away unsuspecting Gems, leaving only dust and shards."

"Really?"

"Pfft! No!" Spinel laughed. "Kid, nothing can live down there. But we're looking into introducing wildlife from old colonies. There was one world your parents went to before you were born that we're looking at."

As they approached the giant pyramid, the outline of doors seemed to manifest in the outer wall, sliding apart to allow them inside.

"So this is where Yellow Diamond lives?" Vonvon wondered aloud.

"It's one of her estates." said Spinel. "She has a ton of them, but this was her old military command center. She's thinking of turning it into a bed-and-breakfast."

"I thought Gems don't eat." Vonvon noted.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Spinel asked.

"Nevermind."

Maybe it was best not to explain. Not yet.

The crystalline halls were frequented by a variety of Gems, each running a different errand. Vonvon noticed that most were carrying bags and picnic baskets, a strange sight on a world of sentient rocks that do not eat.

"Hey, XJ9!" Spinel called out to a passing Jasper. "Can ya tell Yellow we're here?"

The muscular soldier gave her a thumbs up before running through a crowd of exasperated Gems.

"What's up with everyone?" Vonvon asked.

"Oh, they're getting lunch ready."

"Lunch?"

Inside a former colony planning room, Yellow Diamond and an army of Gems frantically worked to prepare Vonvon's afternoon lunch and that evening's dinner. On the menu, for lunch, they had planned a simple chicken salad sandwich. However, they had no idea what a chicken, a salad, or a sandwich was.

"My Diamond!" Yellow Pearl cried, "It's the chickens!"

"I thought I sent a contingent of soldiers to capture them!" Yellow Diamond boomed, brushing the flour off her cheek.

"That's just it." The ever loyal Pearl continued to explain. "When we contacted them for an update, all we received as screaming and clucking."

Yellow Diamond sat in what was once the command seat, lowering her contemplative face behind her hands.

"So, it's war then."

Every Gem in the room stopped to turn to their Diamond, some even dropping whatever was in their hands.

"B-But my Diamond." Yellow Pearl began.

"No." Said the Diamond. "I know we promised to denounce our old ways with the beginning of Era 3. But this is for Steven's child. We. Will. Not. Fail."

"Yes, my Diamond." Yellow Pearl said, bowing with the old Diamond salute. The other Gems in the room followed suit.

"Looks like they have everything under control here." Spinel said. The pair were standing in the doorway, watching the militaristic scene of valor and dedication unfolding before them.

Then Yellow Diamond noticed them.

"Oh, hello Vonvon!" she said, waving over to them. "Lunch will be ready shortly."

She then turned her attention back to the matter at hand, ordering her Gems to prepare for war within her own pyramid. As if clockwork, the dozens of Gems split up into ordered groups, armed with whatever kitchen equipment they could get their hands on.

"Let's go check up on Blue." Spinel recommended.

They were now walking upon a blue road leading to a very blue pyramid. Vonvon thought about how easy it must be to get around, since everything was conveniently color coded.

"Blue Diamond's been researching human entertainment." explained the pink Gem. "That way, you won't be bored. I volunteered, but Blue thought it would be best that you enjoy some variety."

But as they approached the pyramid, a wave of blue color emanated from inside. When it flooded over Spinel, tears began to well up in her eyes.

"Ah, she's still at it." said the Gem, apparently unfazed by the sudden bout of crying.

"At what?"

Inside the pyramid, all was dark, save for the massive, flickering viewscreen on the upper part of a far wall. Dozens of Gems were watching the screen diligently, Blue Diamond included. On this screen was a scene from the somewhat recently released film, The Revengers 4: Finale.

The specific scene was near the end, with the death of the Armored Avenger, who sacrificed himself to save the world from the terrible Hades, the Inevitable God.

"You can rest now." Blue Diamond whispered, tears running down her face.

Vonvon noticed every Gem in the room was crying. They didn't know if this was because of Blue Diamond or not. Granted, they haven't met anyone yet who couldn't help but cry during this scene. Interestingly, their parents often argued about this scene. Connie found that the director missed the perfect opportunity to integrate a classic song about the Armored Avenger, whilst Steven thought that it would somehow ruin the mood.

Vonvon, on the other hand, had no opinion on the matter. They just found the scene moving.

"Oh, Vonvon." Blue Diamond sniffled, finally noticing the small human. "I think you'll find the entertainment we have planned most enjoyable. I certainly did."

"She's been working hard." Spinel whispered to Vonvon. "Watching cartoons and movies, listening to music, the whole deal."

"You've been listening to music?" Vonvon asked, curious as to what Blue had been listening to.

"And learning how to play instruments." The Diamond added.

"My Diamond is quite talented." Said the very quiet Blue Pearl, who suddenly appeared beside Vonvon.

"What do you play?"

The next she heard was the screeching, echoing sound of feedback as Blue Diamond plugged a gigantic electric guitar to an equally as gigantic amp, connected to a wall of massive loudspeakers.

"Oh boy." Vonvon muttered.

The shockwave that followed seemed to disrupt the very air, it shook the crystalline walls of the pyramid, and resonated through the core of Homeworld itself. It lifted Vonvon and Spinel off their feet, throwing them back against the wall. Luckily, Spinel cushioned the child, but it wasn't by choice. But through the cacophony, Vonvon noticed the notes coalescing into a familiar tune.

"Wait, this is Comet, by Mr. Universe!"

@artsycooky13

[homebody-nobody]

you’re a part of me

(WHAT?? Jax wrote ANOTHER fic?? THREE FICS?? in TWO WEEKS?? I know, I’m shocked too. We’re gettin closer and closer to bein a Real Fic Writer lads.) How many juke first kiss fics will you write, Jax? all of them. as many as I want. I dunno. you're an adult obsessed with a tweeny-bopper show. shut up. who even has the patience for 5 +1s in this house it's 3 +1 and only barely bc I don't know how structured fic works so it's not even separate like it's supposed to be. anyway enjoy some dumb teenagers falling in love if the dialogue is cringe sorry lol I was trying to stay in the tone of the show and may have gone a little bit too disney channel (Also if you see typos/the same adjective used twice in one sentence/paragraph, no you didn't I don't edit it makes me nervous)  ------------------------------- (ao3) ------------------------------ '... Luke has thrown out any semblance of personal space. He orbits around her just as closely as the others, no longer threatened by or hyper-aware of the consequences of his proximity. Basically, he’s getting entirely too comfortable.'

(3 times Julie and Luke almost kissed and 1 time they did) ------------------------------------ Luke is overly physical. Theoretically, Julie already knew this. She’s seen him with the boys, the way he lives in other people’s space, hanging off Reggie and lurking next to Alex, not caring where his lanky limbs or knees or elbows end up, even if it’s in other people’s ribs. He was never like that with her, too afraid of the crushing disappointment that came when she phased through his hands. But now, there isn’t the strange, tingles-up-her neck way-weird, way-wrong sensation that came when she accidentally brushed through him. So even though Julie’s used to keeping a respectful distance, Luke has thrown out any semblance of personal space. He orbits around her just as closely as the others, no longer threatened by or hyper-aware of the consequences of his proximity.  Basically, he’s getting entirely too comfortable. 

She notices it the first time during rehearsal, when they’re hashing out the particulars of a melody -- Luke wants it to go down, and Julie thinks it should go up. She plunks herself down at the grand piano to prove that her idea will sound better, fanning the half-finished sheet music out across the top, pointing out the measure they’re arguing over, smudged and crinkled from repeated erasings. 

Luke narrows his eyes at her from across the room, his face set in his trademark (adorable) grumpy expression. “It just sounds better!” she argues. “Listen.” She puts her hands on the keys, left hand hitting the chord, right dancing over her proposed melody. “So please, keep chasing me…” she sings, building to the last word and sliding her voice over an intricate run ending in a step up. Looking up, she tilts her head, her wild hair piled into a tenuous bun, curly tendrils framing her face. Luke’s stomach does an interesting flip. “See?” 

He stands up, swinging his guitar strap down across his chest before walking around her, putting his right hand over where hers had just been on the paper. He stands just behind her shoulder, sending goosebumps down her spine. “It should go down,” he insists. “It’ll flow better with the next line and then the break before the chorus makes more sense. Listen.” He puts his foot up on the bench and swings his guitar back up like it's an extension of him, playing a riff and singing the line they’re arguing about before dipping in to the next. “So please keep chasing me,” he sings, his voice gracefully stepping up and then back down, “Cause even though I’m runnin’, I know you’re the one I need.” 

“You’re making it too simple!” she cries, slamming her hands down in her lap and turning to face him. She opens her mouth to continue the argument, but when she looks at him, she starts, finally realizing just how close he is. The toe of his sneaker brushes her leg, and he leans over the sheet music, closing her in against the piano. His dark eyebrows pull together, mouth slightly pinched as he concentrates, solid and strong and very much in her space. “Um --” she says. 

He shrugs, shaking his head a little bit. “What,” he says, not understanding what she’s having a problem with. Julie’s eyes drop to his mouth, close and stupid kissable, and he notices the motion. The air crackles as both of them unconsciously draw closer, song forgotten, focused only on each other. Luke leans in, half an inch, and Julie’s breath hitches in her chest. This is stupid. She knows this is stupid. Luke is dead. Full ghost. Not real. Well, real, but not a viable option. He might have a physical presence now -- a very strong, very warm, very attractive physical presence -- but that doesn’t make him any more possible. And yet, here she is, pulled into him like he has his own gravitational field and she’s helpless to it. Luke licks his lips, and Julie tilts her chin up, fractional motion tiptoeing toward something irreversible and dangerous. 

Just as she’s about to step over that uncrossable line, there’s an almighty crash. Both of their heads whip up in time to see Alex topple off his stool -- he’d fallen asleep as they were arguing. The noise wakes Reggie, whose head was lolling against his amp. “I didn’t do it!” he yells, flailing into sitting up straight. 

Julie clears her throat and turns back to the keyboard, stretching her hands over the keys. “You’re, uh --” she says, glancing at Luke out of the corner of her eye to find him smirking in an infuriatingly adorable manner. “You’re right. It should go down.” He stands up straight, mildly surprised at his easy victory, and backs off from the piano to show Reggie the chords. They sketch out the verse and Alex adds a backing beat, the moment forgotten. 

That is, until Carlos comes in to nag her to eat. Alex poofs out and Reggie dives behind his amp. Since the whole discovering-corporeality thing, they’re not totally sure if Julie’s the only one who can see them still, and they’d rather not have to explain to Julie’s dad what three teenage ‘holograms’ are doing living in his garage. Carlos delivers his message and then darts back inside, eager for dinner, and Julie stands up from the piano, gathering the half-finished song and tucking it into the folder she keeps her in-progress projects in. 

Reggie emerges in a comic mess of limbs and grins at her, Alex poofing back on to his stool. “I’ll be back after dinner to finish this,” she says, hoping they don't notice the shake in her hands as she tucks the folder away. Luke pops his chin over the edge of the couch, behind which he’d taken cover. 

“Hey Julie!” he calls, and she turns back to look at him. “Just remember; KISS.” 

Her brain short-circuits, heart tripping over itself as she remembers his eyes on her, his shoulders and his hands and his stupid concentration face. “I, uh -- What are you --” she sputters.

A shit-eating grin spreads across Luke’s face as he puts his elbows on top of the couch and pushes himself up. “Keep it simple, stupid.” 

Julie practically runs out of the garage. Alex raises an eyebrow, his gaze arcing from the door to land on Luke. “That was uh…” Luke schools his expression into one of false innocence. “Bold.” Luke rolls his eyes and brushes him off, but Reggie gives Alex a knowing look. Their friends are idiots. 

It happens again one afternoon when Carlos has a baseball game and Julie has the house to herself. Or, so she thinks. She’s lazing around on the couch, avoiding her history homework spread out on the coffee table, Adventure Time babbling on the television. She’s slowly working her way through a bag of gummy bears and m&ms (her favorite candy combination),  wearing an enormous hoodie that used to be her mom’s, home alone; life is fantastic. Until -- 

“Oh, sweet, cartoons!” Luke poofs into existence directly next to her on the couch, and she starts violently enough to shake candy into the couch cushions. Some of it lands on his chest, and he holds up a green gummy bear with a wistful expression. Julie just stares at him, still mildly in shock, definitely still annoyed, and really not in the mood to endure his moping about food when she was having a perfectly nice time by herself. 

“Hey,” he says, either ignoring or unaware of what he’s just done to her heart rate and her peaceful afternoon. “You think now that I’m corporeal --” (he over-pronounces the word, having just learned it from Flynn days before) “I can eat like, regular human food?” It isn’t until he looks to her for an answer that he realizes what he’s just done. “Oh, sorry,” he says, that same stupid-ass grin settling on his face, not sorry even a little bit. “Did I spook ya?” 

His glee at the pun, which he definitely stole from Reggie, sparkles in his gray-green eyes, and Julie’s heart, which had just started to recover from his sudden appearance, trips over itself one more time. Emerging from the shaken-up snowglobe of her brain, she blurts out her first thought. “You’re the worst,” she says, even while thinking the opposite. 

He looks genuinely hurt for about half a second before turning the gummy bear towards her, too, and speaking for it. “You should be nice to Luke,” he says in an absurd voice. “He’s so handsome and talented!” He laughs at his own joke and pitches his voice up to continue with the bit, but she snatches the candy out of his hand and pops into her mouth, grinning. He feigns shock. “That bear could have had a family, Julie.” 

“If they did, they’ll all be happy together in my stomach,” she says, eating another one to punctuate the statement. Luke laughs, and the sound has a heart-stopping melody of its own. It’s comfortable, the relationship that they’ve developed with each other. He always laughs at her jokes and is the first to offer her a compliment after rehearsal, and she loves his dorky sense of humor, even when she gives him a hard time about it. They write music and goof around, and even with the (very strong) undercurrent of romantic (she hopes) tension between them, a friendship sits comfortably on top. He’s only been in her life for a short time,  but she can’t imagine it without him. Her feelings for him endanger that, so she does her best not to let it show. He asks her what she’s watching, and she explains the basic premise of the episode so that he can understand what’s going on. 

She’s hyper-aware of him as they watch the show, and  she envies the ease with which he occupies her space, his shoulder brushing hers, their knees occasionally bumping. He slouches all the way down on the couch, one foot kicked up on the table, turning the remote in his hands and messing with the battery cover, completely at home. (He’s always fiddling with something -- a pen, his necklace -- or bouncing his leg, or clicking a guitar pick between his teeth. It’s a habit that’s mostly adorable and only sometimes annoying.) If he notices her staring at him, he doesn’t say anything. 

It takes a couple more episodes, but she finally relaxes, and the distance between them -- already spare -- vanishes, her shoulder tucked under his, her head angled toward him, their feet bumping on the table. Half her attention is on Finn and the land of Ooo, and half on the boy beside her, who doesn’t seem to give any indication that he’s thinking about this as much as she is. Luke has a way of pulling her in until she’s closer than she ever planned to be, like she can’t help but touch him. Ever since the night they played the Orpheum, he’s become magnetic, his presence a force she can’t resist. If she tilted her head down, just a fraction, it would be resting on his shoulder. What would he do? Would he shrug her off, or rest his head on hers? She watches his hands play with the remote, imagining what his strong, slender fingers would feel like laced with hers. She’s had crushes before, of course -- she liked Nick all the way from seventh grade up to this year -- but nothing so real and powerful as this. 

“Don’t you think Finn sounds just like Reggie?” Luke asks, pulling her from her thoughts. She looks up at him, and he looks down at her, and -- oh. 

He’s very close. 

His eyes always remind her of an overcast sky, swirling with unknown depth, and they widen when they meet hers, filled with awe. Blood rushes in her ears, muting the TV, tuning out anything that isn’t him. Her heart is beating so hard and so fast she wonders peripherally if he can hear it, and then that thought fizzles out with the rest of any kind of logic when his gaze drops to her mouth. He’s going to kiss her. He’s going to kiss her!! Panic and elation and anticipation all scramble in her chest. She’s never kissed anyone before, and even though she’s never asked, she knows he probably has. What if she’s bad at it? She’s half freaking out and half telling herself to shut the hell up as he turns his entire body towards her, his hand reaching up to hold her face and -- 

The front door slams open, announcing Carlos and Ray. “Mija!!” her dad calls. Luke jerks back from her like he’s been burned, eyes filled with absolute terror, before he disappears. 

“JULIEEEEE!!” Carlos hollers, launching himself across the living room at her and landing on her stomach, knocking the air out of her. Her arms come up around him automatically, despite all the sweat and the diamond dirt sticking to it. Feeling mildly shell shocked and like she’s been hit by a hell of a lot more than her little brother, she barely listens as Carlos and their dad babble over each other in an attempt at telling the story of Carlos’ game-winning home-base slide. She’ll be happy for him once her heart rate slows down. 

Luke stays away for almost a full twenty-four hours after that particular mishap, long enough she almost asks Reggie and Alex if he talked to them about it. There’s about a thousand reasons not to, but mostly, she doesn’t know if she can even explain just what happened. She does tell Flynn, who launches into a very confusing monologue that starts with her admonishing Julie for thinking anything good can come from involving herself with a literal ghost and ends with her gushing about how many cute love songs they could write together, zero percent of which makes her feel better. 

The only reason he doesn’t continue avoiding her is rehearsal, which, of course, he would never miss. She’s hoping to talk to him before they get started, but then the bus gets stuck in traffic and all of her boys are already set up with their instruments and having an impromptu jam session by the time she gets home.  “What --” she hisses as she heaves the doors shut behind her. “Did I tell you guys about playing in here without me?” Alex shrugs and apologizes, and she can’t really be mad at Reggie, at least not for long. 

But Luke -- he barely looks at her, nervous fingers dancing across a complicated riff even as the other boys stop playing. It takes a second of silence before he looks up to see the rest of his band staring at him. “Oh,” he says, the phrase ending in the discordant sound of fingernails on steel strings. “Yeah, right. Sorry.” 

They get started, but nothing sounds right. Luke rushes the tempo and refuses to make eye contact with anyone, spinning off into fancy riffs that have no place in the song they’re working on. Reggie keeps trying to keep up with him, tripping up Alex and frustrating Julie, and when the song grinds to a cacophonous halt for the fourth time, she stands up from the piano. Reggie takes a step back. 

“What is your problem?” she practically yells, stomping over to Luke. He’s been surly and unusually stubborn, and the shift from his usual cheerful, passionate demeanor builds her own stewing anxieties to a dangerous head.

“It’s not my problem you can’t keep up,” he says, and then, after watching the words register in Julie’s expression, immediately regrets it. Alex’s eyebrows shoot up and Reggie makes a very soft ‘ooooohhh’ noise under his breath.

“It’s not keeping up if you can’t hold a steady tempo,” she says, too upset over his refusal to cooperate to catch the reaction from her bandmates.

“Okay, so maybe I was rushing,” he admits, trying to walk it back. But Julie’s on a roll, and once she gets started laying into him, she very rarely lets up.

“Thank you!” she yells, the sarcasm clear in her tone. She’d been especially fond of the product so far, a song she thought embodied the perfect blend of Luke’s harder edge and her singer-songwriter roots. His sudden, uncharacteristic left turn is as much an interruption in their rehearsal as a knock to the tenuous pride she’d been building in the piece.  “And what are all those riffs you’re tossing in? You have to hear how they don’t fit.” 

“Oh come on,” he says, proud in his ability and therefore less willing to step down. He rolls his shoulders back and moves toward her, the challenge set in his spine. “I was shredding and you know it.” Luke is sweet and kind and silly and compassionate, but he’s also a musician, and a lead guitarist at that. His ego, though it rarely becomes an issue, is far from insubstantial. 

“If you want a solo, fine!” she cries with exasperation, her hands flying through the air like they always do when she’s upset. “But you have to say something so we can give you room for it!” Her annoyance has turned down the sensitivity on her Luke-nonsense monitor, caught up enough in the trouble that she can’t see that he’s riling her up on purpose.

“What, you afraid of a little improvisation?” He’s smiling now, and his obvious glee, such a stark flip from where she thought this was going, throws off her tirade. He starts walking toward her, and his newfound physicality gives him an ability to fluster her to a much greater degree than before.

“No --” she stammers, stumbling backwards, distracted out of anger by his sparkling eyes and the power in the body approaching rapidly. “That’s not what I --” There it is again, that power he has to turn the rest of the world into radio static, her vision blurring and her hearing dulling until it’s just Luke filling up the world in front of her. 

“C’mon Julie,” he says, and right now she hates his stupid smirk and the stupid way he rolls her name around in his mouth before letting it out. “you have to take risks once in a while.” She’s backed up against the piano now, her hands wrapped tight around the lid, and he’s still pushing it, strong and warm and undeniably, frustratingly male in her space. 

But Julie isn’t one to let him intimidate her into silence, no matter how cute and well-muscled he may be. She takes a breath and looks him in his ridiculous sparkly eyes, poking him in his absurdly firm chest.“I am not afraid of taking risks, mister,” she says, “Let’s not forget who performed in front of her entire school to get back into the music program --” 

“My idea,” he scoffs, not backing up. Why isn’t he backing up.

“Or who fronts a band of actual ghosts!” she continues, her voice increasing in volume again, and the speed of her heart tripping over itself could be from the argument or the boy who’s collarbones are less than a foot from her face. Both are entirely possible. 

“Less ghost now,” he reminds her, tilting his head, his weight leaned one one leg, his hand resting on the head of his guitar, relaxed when they’re supposed to be arguing. 

“You just get to poof out after we perform!” she says, only about two-thirds of her mind still focused on the fight itself, the other third completely wrapped up in the feeling of Luke in front of her. “I’m the one who has to stick around and ask questions!” 

“So you’re saying you take chances,” he says, diabolically diplomatic instead of challenging. He leans forward, putting his hands on the piano behind her, caging her in with his arms. She refuses to back down again, even though his face is now inches from hers. “You’d take a leap of faith?” 

“Yeah,” she says, only half-certain, because she’s not totally sure they’re still talking about music, and her heart is in the base of her throat and her stomach is somewhere around her shoes, and suddenly her hands are sweating when they definitely weren’t a minute ago. This definitely isn’t an argument about the song anymore. 

“Oh yeah?” he says, and there’s the challenge again, except this one sounds more like a dare, and he’s definitely looking at her lips this time, not even trying to be subtle about it, and her hands are braced on his forearms and when did they get there? And Luke is warm and when she looks up, his eyes are on hers, and despite all that bravado and provocation there’s still a question there, and all she would have to do to answer is lift up on her toes and finally, finally press her lips against his, and -- 

Alex coughs. The oxygen goes out of the room like someone opened an airlock, and Julie feels herself sink, just barely, back down on her heels. The world fills back in, colors and sounds suddenly too bright, too abrasive. Tearing her eyes off Luke, she glances over his shoulder to where Reggie and Alex are, still with their instruments, watching them intently. Alex looks politely put out, his eyebrows tilted up with incredulity, like he's asking if they seriously just made him watch that. Reggie, on the other hand, hides nothing in his expression, shock and amusement there in equal parts as he glances between Alex and the two of them still tucked close against the piano, jaw askance in a surprised smile. 

"Are you done?" Alex asks, in a tone that sounds less like a question. "It’s not that I mind…" he gestures between the two of them with a drumstick. "This, but like, time and place, dude." He's not talking to Julie. Luke clears his throat, appropriately chastised, but still looking smug as shit. 

"Um, sorry," she mutters as he returns to his spot next to his amp. 

Alex shrugs. "Not your fault," he says, "from the top?" 

"Uh," she says, frozen for a moment in embarrassment and confusion. She looks to Alex, and he gives her one of his soft, kind smiles, the sort that makes her feel like everything is going to be okay. “Right, okay,” she finishes, as her hands twitch and she settles back into her body. Rushing back around to the bench, she flexes her hands over the keys, curling them into fists and then back out again when they tremble. “From the top.” 

The rehearsal goes -- okay, after that. The magic is missing; therefore, while she usually feels inspired and courageous and empowered walking out of the garage, she just feels exhausted and drained. She eats dinner with her family, and her dad definitely notices that she’s uncharacteristically quiet, but saves asking about it until after Carlos is safely sequestered with his iPad. “How ya doin, kiddo?” he asks as she helps him clear up the dishes. “Everything okay?” 

Julie looks at her dad with mild alarm, wondering what exactly he knows. He does his best, he really does, but it took him a while to even notice she was in a band. Not to mention, he still believes they’re holograms. “Um,” she says convincingly. “Yeah?” 

He smiles kindly, in the way that means he’s very politely calling bullshit. “Alright, mija. What’s going on?” 

Heaving a sigh, Julie keeps her eyes on the dishwasher she’s loading, trying her best to plan an escape route out of this conversation. “I promise, Dad,” she says, “It’s nothing.” and then, what she thinks are the magic words. “Boy stuff.” 

But Ray’s been prepping for this, had conversations with Rose about it before she passed, while the cancer slowly ate her alive. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to be there for her daughter through the time in her life a girl needs her mother the most, and she wasn’t about to let him hide behind toxic masculinity and leave Julie to figure it out on her own. “Okay,” Ray says, trepidation clear in his voice but also not unwilling to approach the topic. “What’s his name?” 

Julie almost drops the pot she’s scrubbing. “Does it matter?” she asks, her voice crawling up several octaves. 

“Just trying to learn who is in my daughter’s life,” he answers diplomatically, sitting down at the counter to make it clear he’s not letting her out of this one easily. 

“I promise, Dad,” she says, doing her best to frantically dodge the interrogation she knows is coming, regretting she brought it up at all, cursing herself for being so obvious. “It’s dumb. You don’t even know him.” 

Ray nods slowly, pretending to believe her. Julie goes after the pot a little harder, because maybe if she just finishes the dishes she can go upstairs and bury herself in her bed and not have to have this conversation anymore. “It’s not that guitarist, is it?” he asks, and her spine goes stiff as a ramrod. Ray’s her dad, but he’s not blind. He’s seen the way they look at each other when they perform, the way the boy follows her around the stage like a puppy, desperate for her attention, disappointed when she jams with the other members of their band and not him. He’s an excellent musician, but Ray knows too many stories of near-legends gone sour with misdirected young love. 

“No!” Julie cries immediately in an obvious lie. “Of course not!” She turns, half-laughing, explanations falling out of her mouth “We’re just friends,” she insists, lacing her fingers in front of her and nodding exaggeratedly. “Just friends. Only friends. Uh-huh. Friends. And!” she continues, gesturing widely, “he doesn’t even live here! So that… wouldn’t even make sense!” she laughs awkwardly. “So no way. That it’s him. No way it’s him.” 

Ray sighs out a laugh that Julie’s too panicked to hear and leans forward on his elbows. “Alright, nina. Just be careful, okay?” She’s nodding along, edging her way towards the stairs. “You and your band…” She looks like Rose, in that hoodie that practically swallows her, hair piled messily on top of her head. Her mom was also a terrible liar, he remembers fondly. “You have something special. Don’t throw that away for a boy.” 

Julie nods rapidly and then bolts, thundering up the stairs before throwing her bedroom door closed behind her and diving headfirst onto her bed, burying herself in decorative pillows. How does everyone  know?? First Flynn and then Reggie and Alex and now her dad? Is she that obvious? (Um, yes.) She flops onto her back, staring up at the colorful tapestries slung across her ceiling, the string lights and posters and art. Usually, she loves her room, the feeling of her creative mind as a space she can inhabit, exploring her heart and the things she loves without having to shut out the outside world. But tonight, she feels trapped in her own head, so she grabs her notebook and squeezes out the window, perched on the roof outside her room. 

The evening air is cool and crisp, the gentlest bite warning the oncoming winter, as much as there is a winter in LA. She spends a while scribbling down half-baked lyric ideas and doodling angry black scribbles around the edges of the pages when nothing comes out right. It’s harder to write on her own, now, without the steady pulse of Luke’s genius behind her, the electricity that flows between them as they create impeccable harmonies. Sometimes, it feels like music belongs to the both of them together, a joined force, like they’ve given up their individual melodies for something greater. It’s thrilling and terrifying all at once. 

Eventually, she just ends up holding the notebook open to ‘Perfect Harmony’ with one hand, the other arm wrapped around her legs, her chin propped on her knees. She still hasn’t shown it to Luke, afraid of how real it feels, how clear it makes her feelings for him. Also, it’s a ballad, which they haven’t even approached yet, and she has no idea how Reggie and Alex will feel about such an explicitly romantic duet. She’s thinking that maybe she might be able to vague it up, maybe even make it a solo piece, when Luke appears next to her, like thinking about him draws him to her. (Which might actually be true -- she hasn’t examined that very closely.) 

“Hey!” he says cheerfully, all awkwardness from the evening’s rehearsal ostensibly disappeared. He plucks the notebook out of her hand, using the other arm to hold back her immediate demands for its return. “New stuff?” he asks. This is not normally such a grievous invasion of privacy. Ever since they started writing together, their songwriting journals have become common property, and half the pages in hers are marked up with his handwriting and vice versa. 

“It’s not ready yet!” she cries, pushing against the (stupidly strong) arm he has across her collarbone, willing to climb bodily over him to snatch the notebook back. Luke’s face very slowly falls as he reads it, the lyrics sinking in, and her protests trail off as she stops scrambling to grab it out of his hands. 

He stands suddenly, pacing across the roof. “Did you --” he starts, breathing shallowly, his tongue tucking his teeth between his lips, nostrils flaring before he speaks again. “Why did you copy this out of my songbook?” It’s not accusatory, only a question, born of true confusion. 

“I didn’t,” Julie replies without skipping a beat, equally baffled. 

“I wrote this after the garage party,” he says. “How is it in your notebook?” 

“I wrote it at school before the garage party,” she replies, doing her best to keep down the memory of the Luke in her imagination and the song coming to her fully formed in the form of a Patrick Swayze-esque daydream. She didn’t even tell Flynn about that part. 

“At school…” Luke repeats, studying the lyrics with a furrow between his eyebrows, and as much as Julie is also reeling from shock at the mystery, it’s kind of adorable to watch him try and solve it. “This doesn’t make sense,” he says, looking up at her, signature grumpy expression in place. He tilts the notebook flat, like he’s presenting it to her, hoping she has the next steps. Like he’s reached his conclusion, and it’s that he’s confused. 

“It doesn’t,” she says, and it comes out as half a laugh unintentionally, just looking at his ridiculous, adorable face. 

“Why are you laughing?” he demands with exasperated urgency. “This is super weird!” He rushes over and collapses next to her, a mess of flannel and limbs and beautiful dumbass. He shoves the notebook back into her hands as she folds her legs underneath her, relinquishing her grip on her knees. 

“Yeah,” she sighs, unable to wipe the grin from her face. “Yeah, it is.” Luke looks like he wants to ask her what she’s smiling at, but then he starts smiling, too, because her happiness is his happiness. Julie’s already past the strange coincidence, lost in the joy of his gray-green eyes and the feeling of him next to her. She’s too used to strange, to the ever-changing rules of the afterlife and the constant uncertainty that Luke and her boys bring to her life. Yes, it’s strange, but she’s in a ghost band and her crush is dead and still manages to look at her like that so she has a certain level of perspective when it comes to things like this. 

“What are you --” Luke tries to say, but her eyes are on his and they’re warm and brown and kind and he’s finding it a little hard to form sentences. 

“This is ridiculous,” she says, and he’s nodding without knowing what he’s agreeing to. “We wrote the same song on the same day,” she laughs, and he nods again, half-listening, half lost in her. She’s excited now, about the possibility brought on by magic and her connection -- their  connection -- souls tied together with passion and music and love. “That’s impossible!” It cements something for her, the feeling of coming together, of sliding into place. They’re so solid, tight, together, on the same wavelength… musicians have put it a thousand ways throughout the years, to communicate the feeling of a co-writer, a bandmate, a partner, reading your mind, singing the next line, playing the next riff that was just in your head. Julie and Luke get the added bonus of being inexplicably spiritually linked. Nothing can break that, or replace it. She’s not scared of it, anymore. 

“Impossible,” he echoes. He always feels a little bit stronger, a little more alive whenever he’s with Julie like this, just the two of them, hanging out or writing music, and he’s in her immediate proximity, soaking in the warmth of her brown skin and brown eyes and the chaotic energy of her wild, incredible hair. She pulls him in, without knowing the power she holds or the light that she emits, casting a golden glow over everything around her. 

“Luke,” she says, and he tunes back in, realizing that he’s steadily leaning toward her as they sit on the roof, Julie cross-legged, Luke angled toward her, one leg stretched out, his elbow propped on his other knee. “Are you listening?” 

“Um,” he swallows, “Yeah?” but he’s looking at her lips, not her eyes, and he’s thinking about kissing her, just once, just to see what she tastes like, remembering the smell of gummies and m&ms, hoping she’ll be just as sweet. She doesn’t say anything, mostly because she forgot what she was going to say in the first place, watching his eyes watch her mouth, breathing him in. He’s too close again, closer than any friend or bandmate should be, and there’s no mic between them, and the door to her room is closed, and there’s no bandmates or brothers or dads, and her heart pounds in her chest. 

When she tilts her chin towards him, she feels ready, finally, knowing what he means to her. Only a breath separates them, but they both stop, waiting for the inevitable interruption, the door slamming open, or someone calling up from the yard below, but it doesn’t come. Realizing what they’re both waiting for, they breathe out a simultaneous laugh, their foreheads dropping together. The tension fades, and Julie’s smile feels uncontainable, demanding every inch of her face as this beautiful, goofy, genus, talented boy adores her while she sits there, falling in love with him. 

It’s easier, this moment, than the one before, because it feels less laden with the weight of someone pulling away, unsure or unwanting. This moment is comfortable, joyful, the two of them acknowledging every minute of want and disappointment and hilarious misfortune over the past few days, acknowledging what they would have asked for instead. And when Luke finally reaches up, pulling her in gently with his hand on her neck, his thumb sliding over her jaw, it’s with confidence and tenderness, reassured that she wants this, too. Julie leans easily into the touch, and when their lips meet, the spark and rush is better than any performance, any screaming crowd drowning in lights. They kiss each other, moving together, leaning in as one, harmony made in the movement of mouths and the press of lips, and this moment -- it’s perfect. 

[meigh-day]

Obligation (Tendou x Reader) - Part 13

———————————————————–

Title: Obligation

Pairing: Mafia AU Tendou x F!Reader

Characters: Includes characters from both Shiratorizawa and Seijoh/Some OC background characters

Includes: Swearing, Guns, Knives, Violence, Blood, Torture

Status: Complete

Word Count: 1.6k

Previous Next

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So far Tendou had only seen the pictures but as he scrolled through a video loaded. It started off with a shaky angle but slowly your form came into view. You were still propped up in the corner of what he assumed to be a van, eyes closed and head bowed. A figure moved across the screen and then knelt before you, his back was to the screen, short blonde hair the only distinguishing characteristic that could be made out at the moment.

"C'mon doll, why don't you wake up and have some fun." He cooed out in an attempt to coax you awake before reaching a hand out. He pressed three fingers and a thumb roughly into your cheeks and pulled up so your face was now facing towards the camera. Your lips parted from the pressure on each side of your face, so he decided to take the opportunity to stick his index finger inside your mouth. He wiggled it around, dragging the pad of his finger across your tongue, a visible shiver ran through him.

"Dude, don't be a fucking pervert..." The camera holder spoke, obviously uncomfortable with the turn this had taken. The blonde man turned his face slightly, giving the other a side eyed glare before pulling his finger out and wiping the saliva he had gathered across your cheek and chin. With a sigh the man released your face and stood, the video cut as your head started to fall to the side once again.

The next few pictures showed you in a new setting, this time on the bare floor of a room. The way you were crumpled up on the ground almost made it seem like someone had just dropped you in a pile on the floor and walked away. Finally, Tendou was facing the last two videos, he wanted to stop watching, it was equal parts heartbreaking and enraging to see the state you were in. Yet, he had to see, he needed to know what happened next, he needed to see what they had done to you. Tendou was absolutely frothing with rage after seeing that disgusting goon stick his vile finger in your mouth.

The next video is short, only about 15 seconds. You are seated in a chair, your arms and legs bound to the chairs arms and legs. Your torso was held fast to the back of the chair by more restraints. At first your face is angled down and away but at the sound of your name, you stir. Your head was throbbing and your body ached, someone was calling out to you but the lights just seemed so bright so for several seconds you just glance around in confusion, blinking rapidly as you try to shield your eyes. You want to cover your eyes with your hands but you can't seem to make them move. It takes a few more seconds for you to realize you can't move, your eyes widen as you realize why. As the room comes into focus, the realization hitting you, you look up in the direction of the phone. The last thing Tendou sees before the video cuts is you, wide eyed as tears slip down your cheeks.

For several seconds all he can do is stare at the screen, the final frame of your frightened face frozen on his screen. This was all his fault. Despite not know for certain why you had left, there was no doubt it was connected to the way he had treated you over the last few days. As a result you were now in danger, you'd already taken at least one hit according to the bruises on the side of your face and then that thug had put his hands on you. There was one final video left, all he could hope for was that you were in one piece and alive at the end.

This video is longer but you are now awake, a neutral expression on your features, a similar expression to the one you had given Tendou the day before.

"Why don't you say hello to your fiancé, little cutie?"

You lift your gaze to the side, looking to the person who was speaking just out of frame. "Look I don't know who you think I am but I don't mean anything to him or anyone else." It hurt to say the words out loud. Words that others might have cried out in desperation, hoping the lie would be believed. However, you knew those words to be true and what you were about to say would have had you in tears if not for the perilous situation you currently found yourself in. "I'm just....some girl he got saddled with." You hoped using the cruel words Tendou had said, the very words that had broken your heart, would prove to these thugs you were speaking the truth but as a grin spread on the mans lips, you knew it had been futile to even try.

"Now now, no need to be so modest Y/N..."

This guy was really irritating, an odd thought to have while being captured for sure but it was true. This whole situation was terrifying but also just really annoying. How had they even known where to find you? Had they just been lurking around town on the off chance you went for a midnight stroll? You sigh, shaking your head as you glance away. "You do realize it's an arranged marriage, right?"

"And?"

You look back over at him, narrowing your eyes a bit as if you were confused. "Are you stupid or something?" The words just came out and before you had time to regret what you had said the man was suddenly in front of you.

"Stupid?" His voice was low, an edge of anger in that one word. His back was to the camera but it was easy to tell that he was a tall and well built, his short cropped hair initially seemed light brown but as he moved it almost looked pink at times. He glowered down at you. "You should learn to watch your mouth little girl." Before you had time to brace yourself he had already completed the swing. Pain flooded your senses as your mind worked to sort out what had happened. Really all he had done was slap you across the face but the force he had used had your vision spotted with white. Blood appeared a moment later on your lips a small bit trickling down your chin as you tried to focus again.

"Now, why don't we try this again." His hand grabbed onto your jaw, forcing you to look at him as he leaned down. "Beg like the bitch you are for that psychopath to come save you."

You grimace as he holds your head still, your face still burning with pain. As you slowly began to center your gaze on him, a smirk pulled at your red stained lips. "Drop dead asshole." His fingers dug into your cheek causing you to wince in his grasp. It felt like he was going to crush your jaw in his hand but after a moment he let go and took a few steps back. "This obviously isn't working. Shido, give it a shot." He turned and disappeared off camera. For a moment you were sat alone on the screen, head still throbbing as tears, you hadn't realized you'd shed, dried on your cheeks. Footsteps could be heard approaching and soon you were join by another man. He was shorter and slimmer than the previous guy, with black wavy hair that hung in his eyes. As he approached you, a sadistic grin stretched across his lips, it was hidden from the camera but your eyes widened slightly upon seeing it. He knelt to the side of your chair and all you could do was watch as he pulled the bandage off your finger. He slide the pad of his finger across the still healing skin, his touch was gentle at first but soon his thumb was being driven down causing you to yelp out.

"What the fuck...get off me!" You hissed out, trying and failing to pull your hand out of his grip. The restraints held your arm fast to the chair, severely limiting your movement. The man looked up at you with such perverse pleasure at your reaction it had you wishing you'd been able to remain silent.

"So pretty...." He whispered, returning his gaze to the wound on your finger. He pressed down into again, an involuntary hiss leaving your lips. As if what he'd been doing wasn't bad enough, he decided to amp it up. He placed one finger on either side of the injury and pulled viciously in opposite directions. His grip was crushing and no matter how you wriggled your hand you couldn't get free of his grip.

"Sto-AHH!!" As the skin finally gave away, blood welled and quickly began to weep, gathering in your palm. You threw your head back, eyes closed shut as you let out a short, frantic, shriek of agony.

"Enough." The man from before commanded from off camera, the man at your side frowned but let go of your hand and retreated out of frame. Tears spilled across your cheeks as you trembled in silence, sparing a brief glance up at the camera before looking away. You looked almost ashamed, embarrassed for letting them get to you. You hated that they had made you scream, you felt weak and humiliated for sitting here crying. The screen went black signaling that the video had come to an end.

Tendou was shaking, darkened red eyes shifting upwards. Yamagata had seen this look before, whatever had been on that phone must not have been good, he'd only been able to hear a few snippets but it sounded bad.

"Boss..."

"Round up the team. I'm gonna talk to Jin and Reon. We either take care of Seijoh now or I do it myself."

[dolcetters]

headcanon  004.  /  the  devil’s  nest  +  relationships

after escaping the fifth laboratory, dolcetto and the other surviving chimeras followed greed down to dublith. here, they slowly settled into a new life and began to forge a family all their own. learning to live with strangers--let alone strangers with damage, unique needs and habits--is never easy. but over time, dol found himself attached. and as painful as losing his second family would be, he’d never consider that attachment a mistake or a vulnerability he shouldn’t have allowed himself. they made life worth living.

axel

things between axel and dol started out rough and never really got better. their personalities clashed immediately, and their tempers weren’t far behind. none of this was helped by axel’s occasional tinkering with alchemy, something that would quickly agitate dol or just generally annoy him. despite this, they were able to work well together when a job required it... usually because “work” allowed them to put any anger toward a different party rather than each other.

fights between them would usually start with dol trying to fix something in the nest--be it the sink, a door, installing a new lock, etc--and axel would state that it would be quicker if he just used alchemy. dol would say that if they wanted things done right it’s best do just do it themselves and not with shitty science-magic. things would amp up from there. thankfully, one would storm off before anything turned physical. apologies were given in small gestures rather than words. they may have frequently fought and been at odds with each other, but it never took away from the loyalty and trust they felt.

bido

to call dol protective of bido would be a bit of an understatement. it’s very much an “i’m the only one allowed to gripe at him” sort of situation ( and said griping would come from a place of worry, much like from a scared parent ). he quickly caught on that bido’s experiences in the labs had left him unstable in more ways than one, and it didn’t take him long to start putting himself between bido and anything--or anyone--who made him uncomfortable. 

despite considering himself bad at giving advice, dol would always listen carefully to bido whenever something had him anxious. he’d make a point to try to mend the situation however he could and go out of his way to make sure bido was safe and guarded when things at the nest got dicey. bido would also sometimes bring back small trinkets or oddities that he’d find while out eavesdropping or exploring, and dol would place them around the shelves and bottles as a bit of extra decoration to give the bar’s front a personal touch. bido was never much shorter than dol, but dol started referring to him as “the little guy” as a term of affection. 

blondie

similar to axel, dol’s relationship with blondie was frequently rocky. this was, in part, because blondie was often one of the first to poke fun at dol when the dogs would influence him. though the two of them would rarely choose to hang out around each other, their spats never got worse than just spats. 

blondie would taunt, dol would yell, and that would usually be the end of it. in some ways, this was also a way of checking on each other. on days blondie didn’t tease, dol would get the idea something was up. and on days dol wouldn’t bristle or bite back, blondie would know something was off. while they never talked anything out, they could sometimes be found having a smoke together in silence on the roof. being a comfort by company. blondie did enjoy hanging out with vulch, however, and this would frequently cause rifts between him and dol.

cain

while his temper could be on par with axel and dolcetto’s, cain was always much quieter and withdrawn. he kept to himself most of the time and didn’t start fights, preferring to be the one who barged in and finished them. he was definitely a “background snarker”, staying silent throughout a conversation until an opening to throw in a jab or smartass remark would present itself. and he had no bias regarding who the jabs were aimed at. sometimes he took your side, other times he’d take you out with the trash. 

while cain and dol got along, all things considered, the guy sometimes gave dol “off” vibes. cain stuck to the shadows, moved around the nest with uncanny silence, and had a habit of seemingly just “appearing” in rooms to lurk and butt into conversation whenever he liked. they did work well together, though. similar to martel, dol and cain were often able to “sense” what move the other was about to make--and they worked off each other fluidly in combat. dol also made sure to help guard cain’s blind spots while in a fight, even if cain didn’t need it. they rarely got into direct fights with each other. any tension usually came in the form of annoyed, tired stares and rolling eyes.

gills

in the same vein as cain, gills often preferred to keep to himself but was rarely found alone. he liked to follow at least one person around the bar and sometimes strike up light conversation with them, though he never stayed past his welcome. dol’s relationship with gills could be described as solid enough. gills respected boundaries, and dol never minded his company or curiosity. 

due to his disfiguration, gills never got to leave the nest too often--especially during day hours. dolcetto would often make it a point to find him after a run or a job and tell him about anything interesting he may have seen in as much detail as he could. and, in turn, gills would share stories about what he could remember before the labs. he’d been a bit of a nomad, if he recalled correctly, hitch-hiking on train cars and seeing as much of amestris as he could. as fine as he was with his nickname, gills wished he could remember his birthname. it became another reason dol was grateful for the older chimera who had once lived in the cell across from him. who’d made him promise to repeat his name to himself, again and again, every “night” before he fell asleep. so he wouldn’t become just another number.

glen

since glen doesn’t live at the nest, he just works there, his relationship with dol was always a little... walking on eggshells. glen respected dol’s need for privacy and personal space, and dol respected glen’s unwillingness to share too much about his life outside of work. there’d be times when glen would ask something he probably shouldn’t have and it’d just be five minutes of awkward, tense silence between the two of them before one of them eventually wandered away or found an excuse to leave. 

overall, their relationship was very surface level. much more acquaintance than friends. and while dol trusted glen with tasks like being a bouncer around the bar or standing guard around the entrances, glen would not be considered trustworthy ( by dolcetto’s standards ) to protect the nest’s occupants as individuals. there would always be an underlying fear that--backs to the wall--glen would sooner sell them out than hide them. he had a life and family outside of the nest’s walls, after all. and while that fear WAS there, dol never took it personally. he understood. all the more reason to ensure he can protect the nest, himself.

greed

complicated. may have been the best word to describe dolcetto and greed’s relationship before the raid on the nest. while dol grew to highly respect greed, value him, and dedicate himself to working for him in return for greed granting him a second life, there were more than enough times that the homunculus just about drove him absolutely batty. greed would take any input dol gave on a plan or idea into consideration, but it’d always be a bit of a coin flip. either he’d take it or he’d completely leave it. and while the latter didn’t always offend dol, nor did he take it too personally, it would sometimes leave him aghast. greed’s sometimes lackadaisical attitude toward his own physical safety would often bring dol to the verge of verbal outbursts or a need to snarl, pace, even go on an aimless run ( all energy runs out eventually, boss, and if you keep wasting yours on senseless shit you’re not gonna have it when you need it ). their relationship pre-raid could easily be described as strictly business, though a bit stronger and more personal on dol’s end. he didn’t really have a word for it at the time.

it wouldn’t be until after the raid, when greed and dolcetto would cross paths again, that dol began to feel out that word. while greed was still greed in many ways, he’d changed in others. their situation had changed, too. they weren’t running a back-end area of a city anymore as info-brokers... they were fugitives again, sure, but the stakes were higher. the threat of loss, heavier. they were each pieces of something torn apart and neither wanted to be separated again. it was during this period of travel, of getting closer to the promised day, that dol began to see greed more as a brother than a boss. someone flawed but reliable, someone who could look at everything wrong with him--the wrongs he’d done--and not bat an eye. and despite knowing damn well just how out of his league he’d be, dol refused to leave greed’s side during the promised day and did whatever he could to keep up with him as everything unfolded. so when greed died, tearing them apart for a second time and cementing dolcetto as the only remaining survivor of their found family... something in him shattered. he quietly disappeared in the crowd after the dust settled, and he’d remain in hiding until greed returned a final time.

gunshow

much of gunshow and dolcetto’s interactions could be considered playful and relaxed. they’d often exchange harmless banter while doing chores and odd-jobs around the nest to keep things up and running, and said banter would never become antagonistic or risk crossing boundaries. gunshow was laid-back, maybe a bit too much for his own good, and he easily rolled with whatever punches were thrown at him. any hot-headed remarks dol would make--usually out of accident--would just roll off his shoulders. they got along well, even if they didn’t usually seek out each other’s company. 

due to the lack of automail experts in the area, gunshow often had to deal with an annoying malfunction or two when older pieces of his arms would start to wear or break. dol was the only one he trusted to try fixing them ( axel tried to fix them with alchemy once and it did not end well ). these “fixes” were usually akin to “slap some duct tape on it”, but they worked well enough until they were able to find something that actually worked or someone who actually knew what the hell they were doing. and since it was automail, dol didn’t have a problem with touching or tinkering with gunshow’s arms... though, he did still have a problem with gunshow touching him directly with his hands. metal or not, hands are hands. he hates being grabbed.

martel

one of two people dolcetto knew before the labs, martel was easily one of the nest members dol was closest to. they met in academy and developed a bond through friendly competition. discovering that they had both wound up as experiments in the labs was... much more bitter than sweet. their cells weren’t close to each other, and often they’d only get glimpses of one other when moved from room to room. more time was spent worrying that one of them would die and simply “disappear” than they got to be comforted by a familiar face. it wouldn’t be until greed ransacked the labs that they’d be reunited in earnest. 

once in dublith, much of their healing was done together or with roa. martel tends to be the most mischievous of the three, sometimes causing trouble for the thrill that dol “angrily” would bail her out of while roa remained stern but amused. dol never doubted her abilities, be it in combat or in intel. he admired her wit, her resourcefulness, how laser focused she could be. and martel was one of the very few people in the nest who could touch him--usually on the shoulder or forearm--without him feeling overly anxious. he may have fallen uselessly in love with her, in a sense. though whether or not these feelings were ever reciprocated is unknown. they never got the chance.

owen

in a similar way that axel and dol clashed immediately, owen and dol clicked immediately. owen had an easy-going nature and a quiet patience to him, keeping a level head without problem whenever the more explosive personalities started tension in the nest. he’d often fall into the role of a mediator, and this was extremely important during the first several weeks of freedom as the fugitive family struggled to get to know each other AND adjust to life outside the labs. 

owen preferred to keep to himself. not because he didn’t like the company of his family, he just enjoyed quieter moments and being left to his tasks or hobbies. dol was drawn to this since he knew he’d always be able to just sit in whatever room owen occupied without the pressure to start and hold a conversation. owen often encouraged dol not to be so hard on himself, and dol was always the first to step in with light reminders whenever owen’s memory would start to fail him. they kept an eye on each others backs, as one’s weaknesses were often the other’s strength. this quiet, but strong, bond between the two is likely what lead to owen’s uncharacteristic rage when bradley stabbed dol from behind. as well as dol frequently being haunted by the image of owen’s corpse after her woke up from shock.

roa

the second of two people dol knew before the labs, roa came into dol’s life shortly after arriving in ishval. the older man had been stationed for a while ( and would remain for some time after dol and martel were taken underground ), and he soon took dol under his wing. while not a father figure quite yet, roa served the role as a mentor of sorts, helping dol and martel adjust to the shock of being on the field rather than training. and when he eventually wound up in the labs, it was similar to the situation dol had with martel. less the comfort of a familiar face, and more the constant worry that the glimpse you got of them in the corridor may have been the last time you’d see them again.

dolcetto, martel, and roa stuck close to each other throughout their first several weeks in dublith. roa was often the calm between their storms, the voice of reason when tension would build. there was a lot of his father that dol saw in roa. they had the same silent strength, cool-headedness, and wisdom. dol would often seek out roa for advice and insight, or simply go to him when he needed a sense of security and safety. roa was another of the few in the nest who could get away with touching dol, and he was the only one who could wrap a whole arm around dolcetto without the threat of losing it. though the reasoning was never given, roa gifted dolcetto with his old wedding ring maybe a month or two before the raid. somehow, he’d managed to keep it with him after all this time. dol didn’t really know what to do with it, but he kept it safely stored in one of his matchboxes. it wasn’t until after the raid that he found a chain necklace to keep it on so he could ensure roa would always be close.

smokes

sort of in the same realm as glen, smokes and dol had a very surface-level relationship, much more along the lines of acquaintances than friends. smokes was always a bit more clumsy and unaware than glen, however, when it came to conversation and certain topics best left off-limits. which lead to more frequent hostility on dol’s part. didn’t help that smokes tended to be much more sociable than glen did, sometimes butting into circles he hadn’t been invited into.

it might’ve been smokes’ lack of tact that lead to dol being less interested in being around him. he tended to try avoiding the guy when he could; this was actually because he thought smokes was nice just... stupid. and he didn’t want to end up hurting him in an outburst, be it physically or emotionally. the guy meant well, he was just... fucking stupid. and, as with glen, dol trusted him more as a bouncer or front guard than he ever would protecting the occupants of the nest.

vi

if dolcetto sees his father in roa, he sees his little sister in vi. though shy and timid at first, once vi deems you trustworthy and comes out of her shell, she’s mischievous, curious, energetic and full of personality with a bizarre sense of humor. similar to gills, vi rarely got the opportunity to leave the nest, both because of her disfigurements and because of the potential danger she could pose to those around her if her wrappings even slightly slipped. her wrappings would also cause her frequent depression as it effected her not just from a transitional standpoint but just... in general appearances. she’d get jealous of the women she’d see in the bar who got to wear heels and dresses and had hair to style ( as the condition of her skin paired with her wrappings would often cause her hair to fall out ). if there was ever an opportunity to bring back something vi could try on in private, dol would be one of the nest members to actively seek something out. like how roa took dol and martel under his wing, they took vi under theirs. 

despite her unnerving and almost frail appearance--wrappings or her semi-translucent skin--vi is far from helpless. put a gun in her hands, and she’s an excellent shot. she’s also unbothered by the effect her skin has on others that she’s come to consider a threat, and won’t hesitate to use it as a weapon. a fight broke out in the bar, once, with a rival gang, and one of the opposing members caught her in a headlock, pistol to her temple. while dolcetto distracted him with insults and threats, vi pulled the bandages around her hand loose with her teeth. and the moment an opening came--when the gang member pointed the gun at dol--she clamped her bare hand over his face, poisoning, burning, and marring it immediately. then she stole his wallet and his gun, using the loose cash to buy dolcetto some cigarettes as a thank you. dolcetto hates... hates... that he was never able to find her during the raid. after everything went to hell she just. disappeared.

vulch

out of everyone in the nest, dolcetto got along with vulch the absolute least. even though he considered vulch family, he almost detested him. any familial bond that existed was much more spurred from “we have the labs/trauma as common ground, and we owe it to each other to keep ourselves safe” than it was any sort of connection. vulch never had any sense of self control, and he got off on riling up the members of the nest who had hotter tempers ( because, as big and literally thick skinned as he was, he knew he could handle them lashing out ). and he frequently targeted dol due to how easy it was to poke and prod at his animal-related sore spots and because dol was significantly smaller than him.

dolcetto would often do whatever it took to avoid having to work with vulch, be it during a shift at the bar or some sort of job for greed. he’d never abandon or leave vulch for dead if things went south, of course, but he knew things would be less productive and efficient with the two of them in the same room for a prolonged amount of time. the way vulch spoke to, and about, women would also often drive dol up a wall, and he’d frequently mutter to vi “the next time he does that, slap him with your wrappings off” as a joke. martel once stabbed vulch’s hand while it was flat on a table--pinning it there until he eventually tore the knife free--and there was much rejoicing. 

[askkrenko]

Krenko’s Guide to Pokemon: Diglett Line

What lurks beneath the ground for a Diglett? Is it tiny mole hands and feet? Is it  some hulking monstrosity? Is it a secret portal to a parallel dimension? Nobody knoooows. DESIGN:  DIglett is a viciously simple design, but it works. It’s just a round shape poking up from a hole in the ground, with a pink nose and black eyes. That’s it. I think it’s the single simplest design in all of Pokemon, except for maybe Ditto. But it’s still iconic, easy to recognize, and very much its own, unique pokemon. Dugtrio on the other hand, is stupid. It’s three digletts. Three bigger digletts. That’s literally it. They’re not even arranged in a pattern like Magneton. They’re just together. And what’s worse, their pokedex entry says they’re three heads with one body, which would frankly be a lot more interesting if anyone had ever seen their body.  But the body’s clearly very small because...

Seriously. What IS this thing? 

Alolan Diglett is still cute, with only a slight color variation and that little sprout of hair. Alolan Dugtrio is... memeworthy.  Look, I get it, I understand the Pele’s Hair thing, and I love the concept of a Pokemon with it but...

I just can’t take that pokemon seriously. At all. And I know a lot of pokemon look goofy, but there’s looking silly and cartoony and then there’s being whatever the hell Alolan Dugtrio is. Dugtrio was already a stupid design, and Alolan Dugtrio just amps that up. EVOLUTIONS: DIglett evolves into Dugtrio at level 26, and you know what I love? Alolan Diglett evolves into Alolan Dugtrio at level 26. Isn’t that swell? No jumping through hoops. No weirdness. Just good old fashioned leveling up at a mid-20s level.  Now, that’s still early enough that it could justify a third form, but Dugtrio honestly doesn’t need it. TYPING: Ground type is a decent type to have. Three weaknesses, two resistances, one immunity. Dugtrio’s got it fine. But more importantly, five types are weak to Ground, and while Flying is immune, there’s still only two other types that resist. Ground is a completely decent type to be. Ground/Steel, on the other hand, is absurdly good. Alolan Dugtrio has eight resistances and two immunities, while only having one more weakness than Kantonian Dugtrio. And one of those resistances, Rock, is a double resistance. And Dugtrio really needs these resistances. STATS:  Dugtrio’s pretty high on the ‘glass cannon’ list. With a mere 35 base HP and below-average defenses, Dugtrio’s ability to take a hit is nearly non-existent. Alolan Dugtrio goes a lot farther here due to resisting more than half the attacks in the game, but he’s still not tanky. Where Dugtrio does shine is high speed and high attack stat, meaning it can reliably hit first and hit hard.  Its stats are still a bit low overall, but you don’t need defenses if the other Pokemon is dead. ABILITIES:  Both forms of Dugtrio get access to Sand Veil (increase Evasion during a sandstorm) and Sand Force (increase rock, ground, and steel damage during a sandstorm.) Sand Veil is weak, and while you might want Sand Force, that’s really only if you’re putting together a Sandstorm team. If you are, it can help make Dugtrio a sweeper. If not... Take the third ability. Kantonian Dugtrio has a particularly powerful ability in Arena Trap. Arena Trap stops all non-flying, non-ghost Pokemon from switching out against Dugtrio without using a switch-out move. This means if you switch Dugtrio in against something weak to it... Well, that thing’s just going to have to eat an Earthquake.  And you can’t Earthquake flying pokemon anyway. 

Alolan Dugtrio has the far weaker Tangling Hair ability. Tangling Hair reduces the speed of an opponent attacking and making contact with Alolan Dugtrio. Because of Alolan Dugtrio’s resistances, it’ll often take multiple hits to kill it, and while Alolan Dugtrio was probably already outspeeding your opponent, this means whatever takes it down is going to be slowed for whatever you send in next.

MOVES:  Earthquake.  It’s Ground, it’s Physical, it’s amazing. Moving on. Alolan DIglett also gets Iron Head. It’s not as strong, but the chance to flinch is real, and it’s preferred over Earthquake for Bug, Grass, Flying, Fairy, and Ice types.    As Kantonian Diglett can’t get Iron Head, it might want Stone Edge for coverage.

So that’s your ‘go first and hit hard’ plan.  Then you need a plan for tankier pokemon.  High speed plus Substitute will protect your Dugtrio from debuffs,  Dugtrio used to be able to learn Toxic, which was a good way for taking down tanky Pokemon, but the newest generation seems to have stripped that from a lot of Pokemon.  Without, spamming Screech to lower their defense and then Earthquaking might be the play, but with proper breeding you can also teach a Dugtrio Hone Claws. That’s right- Dugtrio has Claws.  That would let it set up for a proper sweep, though it is a bit slower against an individual pokemon.  Still, this is risky- Dugtrio’s fast but not the fastest, so it’s possible something could just come out and one-shot it even after a full set-up.

Of course, you could just take Sandstorm and use Sand Force for more damage, but I wouldn’t really recommend that unless the rest of your team wants Sandstorm, too. 

My moveset suggestion: Earthquake Stone Edge/Iron Head Substitute Screech

OVERALL:  Dugtrio is very much a one-trick Pokemon with no real versatility, but the trick of ‘being the fastest Pokemon with STAB Earthquake’ is a good one, especially with Arena Trap. Despite its low stat total of 425, it doesn’t really need any improvements, except for maybe a better setup move like Swords Dance or Bulk Up.    On the other hand, it’s a really, really stupid design. Like, maybe the worst design in gen 1. 

See that? That’s a dugtrio. Except it’s not. It’s just three digletts.

[deebeeus]

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Here is something you dont see very often...me playing a #guitar on video! But I'm so enjoying this homemade "JHM" that my #amp tech @marshalllespaulfan built and lent me yesterdsy when I dropped off my #Fender Twin for servicing, that I just had to post a crappy cellphone clip of my crappy playing. This is straight into the amp playing my other patron's (@tomgibson3783's) #R7 #LesPaul. The tone knob is all the way up and the volume is at 7. That is natural overdrive...not a pedal! There is reverb added (coming out of a second amp off to the left) and I'm playing it through a 1 x 10" cab with an Eminence Ragin' Cajun speaker. . Check out @marshalllespaulfan's post from yesterday for more info on this little beast. It's based on a Harmony circuit with a single 6V6 and puts out around 5 watts (and is loaded all vintage tubes of course!). He repurposed a little Marshall box to house the amp (notice the front panel says "JHM", with the H being an homage to the Harmony circuit lurking within!) . So much fun to play and not too loud...I always wanted to learn how to build something like this myself!! . #gibsunday #marshallmonday #marshallamp #harmonyamp #harmonyguitar #gibsonguitar #guitar #guitars #amps #ampbuilding #homemadeamp #diyamp #amptech #amprepair #guitarphotography #ampphotography https://www.instagram.com/p/CEhPoSHBdRu/?igshid=1k4796wtd7bzd

[childotkw]

So Orion gives off childish cutesy vibes which endears the audience and Harry to some extent to him. I was just wondering how much of it is intentional and manipulative. Orion does seem to be able to switch from someone who is a slave to his whims (runs up to Harry and hugs him, cause he just wants to... maybe?) and someone who can switch to a more serious calculating person. Which one is more real? Are they both real?

Excellent question, my dear. 

In my mind, no emotion that Orion projects is necessarily inaccurate or a lie. He is actually shockingly genuine when compared to some of the others. He feels what he feels and he doesn’t bother hiding if he doesn’t need to. In that manner, with that lack of restraint, he is quite immature. If he’s upset, amused, angry - you’ll know it, whether through him outright saying it, or by the subtle changes to his countenance that never fail to make you uneasy. 

The childishness is genuine. To a degree. The way Orion views things like friendship and just people in general, is infantile. There’s a very clear sense of ownership for him in these matters. If something is ‘his’, then it belongs to him in every aspect. To him, if he lays claim to something - like say, Ciro - then it’s done. Ciro belongs to him, no ifs or buts about it. Which is why when Tom eventually starts to muscle in on Ciro, Orion will not approve. This basic possessiveness is much like a toddler unwilling to share their toys. 

But it’s not all there is to Orion, because like you mentioned, he’s too sharp. 

Orion learned young that people were afraid of him. Whether from his name, his family’s reputation, his wealth, his power, or the madness lurking in his blood - it didn’t matter. People were scared of him.

He spent years watching others fawn over his parents, and growing up in an environment where people basically fell over themselves to please him, grew tiresome. 

Orion knew that he made people uncomfortable, and that was without showing them just how intelligent he really is - how unimpressed all of them made him - so he amped up the playful kid side of himself. People were much more relaxed around him when he acted like that. They didn’t see him as such a threat this way, and that let him slip almost unnoticed into their space.

So, I’d say that both sides of Orion are real, in different ways. Orion is a thirteen year old boy, and as such is prone to being a bit juvenile. But he is also a very calculative and cold person, who isn’t afraid to manipulate and lie and sabotage to get what he wants. It’s only when he drops the ‘little kid’ act and lets his edges shine through that people realise just how dangerous he is.

Thanks darling!

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Cult of Luthor: Slow Dance

Between a socially acceptable wardrobe and two new friends, high school becomes a more tolerable experience for Lena. She finds rather surprising enjoyment in gym class, once she gets her legs under her and forgets to be self-conscious.

LuthorCorp children learn basic fitness in the compound, but only as a means to an end-- as maintenance or energy depletion when children are too amped up to focus.

Lena finds she enjoys competition, and while she has to learn the rules of various sports, she participates with gusto, unaware that most girls usually don't. She likes surprising the boys who think her an easy target, and loves the special thrill that runs through her when a ball sinks into the net, or a birdie hits her racket, or she sets a perfect spike for a teammate.

But beyond that, the outside world swiftly loses its shiny luster.

She makes lists of media references she overhears at school, and fills her evenings catching up on popular shows, googling memes on commercial breaks. Eliza brings home People magazine, and Lena devours names and faces of celebrities, the latest gossip.

The consumption takes its toll.

Kara finds Lena out on the porch one night, face turned into the breeze that gently billows her hair.

The sky is clear and the moon bright, casting Lena in an ethereal glow that takes Kara's breath away.

But a deep unhappiness lurks under Lena's serenity, and Kara quietly joins her against the wooden porch rail.

"Hey," she says softly. Lena's eyes open, turning their gaze on her. "Everything okay?"

A sweatered shoulder lifts. "I was just thinking."

"Uh oh," Kara teases, offering a playful smile that fades when Lena features darken. "About what?"

"That Lex was right," Lena mutters. Her jaw is tight, eyes flinty in the dark. "Your magazines are filled with women quantified by their bodies, and rapists continue to have lucrative careers despite the widespread knowledge of their guilt. Everything on the outside is so-- shallow, and inane! Even in school you're taught only to the curriculum, there's no room for curiosity or deeper thought. It's about test performance, not comprehension, and what is it preparing you for?

"For a life of drudgery, mindlessly toiling to earn a wage that might give shelter or food but not both? For four years at a university where half the students don't even want to be there because learning has been made a burden to them?"

Lena's face pinches into a frown, her shoulders shrugging sharply. "Maybe Lex lied about some things, and maybe to others it looks like oppression, but he created a world that doesn't scrape to adhere to some capitalistic ideal of mindless consumption and zero return!"

"I didn't know you felt that way..."

"Of course not. You just joke about how thinking is dangerous." Lena pulls away, even as Kara stiffens beside her. "Better be careful... wouldn't want to earn a reputation as a free thinking individual, would I?"

The night rings with the sharp edge of Lena's voice, and Kara almost takes a step back. She's never seen Lena angry, or resentful, and she can't say she likes it.

She doesn't even know if Lena likes it. It certainly doesn't look like it with her fingers clutching at her upper arms and her jaw stiff with clenching.

"There's no connection out here. Not to each other, or even the ground beneath your feet. All you care about is other's perception of you, and... It's all so meaningless!"

The thirty day mark has been ticking closer, and Kara has been dreading Lena's looming choice. She's never connected with a guest the way she's connected with Lena. She's never been less than thrilled to seem them return to their homes, healed and full of hope.

But Lena... Kara can't bear to think of the day Lena will no longer be in the next room, or across the breakfast table. She won't be able to look up from her stupid english homework and distract herself by watching Lena speak with Sam in tones, heads bent together over a textbook. She won't be able to see the way Lena's eyes light up as she explains something or her megawatt smile when Sam gets it.

"You're going back then," Kara surmises, her chest tightening around the words.

But Lena looks away, lips trembling. "I don't know."

"Oh." Kara studies Lena carefully. "Does that mean there are some things you do like here on the outside?"

Pale fingers wipe at averted eyes. A kernel of hope flickers to life in Kara's chest.

"I know," she says softly. "It's the potstickers, isn't it?"

A surprised laugh bubbles out of Lena, dispelling her gloom for the briefest of moments.

"Or Van Gogh's Starry Night," Kara continues, sidling closer. She remembers the way Lena had stared at the painting, when they'd seen it at the visiting exhibit at the museum.

On a whim, Kara pulls out her phone, scrolling through in search of something else. With a grin, she clicks on a song she recognizes from the cartoon she and Lena watch together every night, having started all the way back at the beginning.

"Or maybe this."

Music starts strumming her phone's small speakers. It's soft and slow, but banishes more of Lena's doubt when a small smile grows in recognition.

"I just wanna slowww dance with you," Kara sings along, taking Lena's hand in hers. A small tug brings Lena close with no resistance. She fits in Kara's arms like she was born to be there, and their bodies move together in a gentle sway as Kara continues to hum.

"I just wanna slow dance with you..."

When the music fades, they slow to a stop. Their eyes lock, and for a moment Kara can barely breathe, lost in the moonlight reflecting in Lena's teary eyes.

The next thing she knows, Lena's lips brush against hers, sending electricity arcing through every inch of her.

"I'd miss you," Kara hears through yawning ears. Lena's voice is muggy through her shock, but a moment later Kara's brain catches up.

She joins their lips again, the uncertainty of her first kiss meeting Lena's own firm confidence. For a long moment, there is nothing but them and the moonlight.

When they part, their cheeks are both flushed, their eyes bright. Kara leans their heads together, and offers up the only thing she can.

"I'd miss you too," she murmurs softly. "So much."

When she wraps her arms around Lena in a hug, Lena's arms curl around her in return. They stand there for what seems like hours, swaying gently to a song only they can hear.

Continued: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Appendix A

[welcometothemusic]

Shopping during Reopening

Shopping Experience During the Pandemic

Remember the times when shopping in stores, malls and grocery outlets were so simple and convenient? Going into your local grocer or retail outlet was a blissful, quick and an escape from the everyday lives of many. Shopping for guitars, music gear and used music stuff was my outlet. I would spend hours, literally hours, looking for the perfect tone of a guitar, amp and guitar shaping pedals. I would stop in to buy new guitar strings at my local Long and McQuade and end up trying random guitars, amps and pedals. Instead of buying my strings, I would end up playing my original music, and older originals I’ve performed with past bands, on brand new gear. Ah yes, the music store was a buffet of musical and social dopamine, derived from experience and conversation.

During that time, shopping was also a social event, where you can talk about life, music, gigs, past gigs and future endeavours with the music store staff. Learning new tone tips, gig recommendations, music venue reviews, the latest gear trends and balancing music with family life were my topics of choice. Watching more talented and technical musicians play in L & M was extremely motivational, as a guitarist always dreams to play better. Watching the elite guitarists, play the most complicated riffs with relative ease gave me the desire to woodshed as soon as I got home. The safety net of touching everything, talking with everyone and sitting in a store for hours was beautiful, as there were no concerns for catching anything with a potentially life-threatening virus.

Do you remember when the shopping experience felt safe, secure and stress relieving? Those days existed only a few months ago since the pandemic of 2020. Now, the shopping experience is a whole new animal. Preparation to leave the house, travel to the city, take extra precautions for safety and distancing is unpleasant, to say the least. For some, the new shopping experience turned into a danger zone, where threats of the virus lurk on every potential surface, within each potential person and attached to every item you bring home. Horrible, nonetheless. For others, the shopping experience remained the same, as they take little to no precautions, and/or live their lives as if there was no pandemic. Hats off to everyone, wherever they are in their opinion on this virus and how it reflects in their everyday lives. Things have certainly changed.

There is another grey area that I back burn, or pay less attention to, when it comes to everyday shopping experiences. A part of my life I rarely share online or with others, for the sake of the topic being “too negative”, “racializing” or because I’ve been told to “get over it” by others. The area I am referring to is shopping while Indigenous. Here in Canada, it is no secret that Indigenous People are discriminated against on a systemic level and personally within our day-to-day lives. The notion of Shopping While Indigenous dates back long before the Pandemic was thought to be a threat to humanity. We know that we have to be hyper aware of our surroundings when shopping in malls, stores or grocery stores for our own liability. For instance, when we walk into a store with a bag, backpack or an item in our hands, we better have a receipt or keep the items in plain sight of the store employees, just in case. This dates back to Western Times (1800s-1900s) when “Indians” were seen as “thieves”, “Savages” and “Heathens” by Non-Indigenous settlers. The mentality carried over into modern times, as we are still seen as thieves or less human than others. An example of discrimination against Indigenous customers, which happens more than it is reported, is when a Canadian Tire employee in Regina, Saskatchewan accused of stealing, without evidence or proof (CBC News). The Indigenous shopper was wrongfully kicked out of the store and later went public with his experience. Again, these are not isolated incidents and an appropriate age of the accused is not considered. For instance, a 7-year old Indigenous girl was accused of shop lifting a key chain and was forced to publicly empty her pockets (CTV News Winnipeg). These types of incidents, and many more, show that there is a bias towards Indigenous people while shopping in Canada.

In my own personal experience, I have been kicked out of malls for not having cash on my person; I have been kicked out of restaurants for complaining about a long hair in my food and told to pay for the meal; I have been followed by floor walkers in 80% of my shopping experiences, while Non-Indigenous shoppers are ignored by staff; I have had my shopping bags searched upon arrival and departure of a store in the past. Another factor to consider is, as an Indigenous person, the fear of the anti-theft devices wrongfully going off as you go through them are always present. Yes, lots of people can go through the anti-theft device and it wrongfully go off, which would be seen as not a big deal. Often, people are shoed through the door without a search or care. It has been my experience that the door greeter of the store will instantly come towards me, and or other Indigenous People and ask to see a receipt. This might be store protocol, but the manner in which the request of the receipt, or the searching of shopping cart/bags is done as if something was stolen. Don’t get me wrong, there has been times when I’ve got the “ok” to proceed through the machines, but the lingering feeling of needing to show a receipt to avoid an unnecessary police call is always present.

There is clearly a sense of cynicism coming from many front-line store staff, when it comes being an Indigenous shopper. Allow me to clarify that these bad apples do not represent the entire front-line service workers, nor am I saying that I believe this attitude exists with all store staff. I have been in many situations where I walk into a retail store, clothing store or a mall store and receive a forced smile, followed by a small “hello”. From there, I notice a non-Indigenous shopper walk in and that same worker greets them with a lit-up face, and a proper greeting, asking them if they needed anything. I agree, this could have been just a random moment where I caught the store worker at a bad time, so, I would keep a close ear to eliminate any bias I might have. The next non-Indigenous customer walks in, sure enough, they receive a warm greeting with a welcoming smile. In many cases, I would select my item and head for the till. The worker begins to bag my items and starts with the standard store script of “did you find everything ok?”. I would answer, “Yes, thank you”, and try to engage in awkward small talk. The store employee would then say thank you, with the same cynicism as when I entered the store. Normally I go about my day, and think nothing of the behaviour, as it already seemed normalized to me. However, I began to try a personal test of my potential bias with these encounters, by walking out slowly and browsing. Once another non-Indigenous shopper followed up to the till behind me, I clearly notice that they do not have that same cynicism with the other shoppers that they have had with me. I would leave the store and carry on with my life. This type of shopping experience happens a lot to me in such stores, but I never really voice my concerns to the manager or supervisor. Again, I do not want to give the impression that this experience happens to me all time at every store, as I have had amazing service from places that I now make part of my shopping routine.

Since the COVID 19 Pandemic, our malls reopened at minimal capacity. My partner and I wanted to experience shopping again, as three months of lockdown was really arduous on us. We walked into two separate hot-spot shopping malls in Regina, Saskatchewan. What a strange difference. The malls were empty with very few people browsing and shopping. The earie sense of abandonment filled the entire building, as if many retailers made a “midnight move”, leaving empty shells. We would walk by abandoned restaurants and store buildings and take a peek inside the dark, vacant shells. Memories flood in of a time when those stores were filled with people, energy and life. Now, empty.

On a positive note, the attitude and environment has changed to a completely new atmosphere. Since the pandemic caused so much unfortunate hardship on businesses, the stores seem to give a more welcoming feel to their environment. When we shop in stores that normally ignore us as customers, we are greeted much like a person stranded on an island for months had finally seen civilization for the first time. This is new for me. Most big label stores wouldn’t look twice at me, as if they knew that I didn’t have money or planned to browse and leave (in most cases I couldn’t afford to shop there to being with). Now, I am treated like a valued customer. I feel as if my dollar counts and my presence is appreciated as a customer. The experience is so foreign to me, that I began to buy items I would never think to buy, because I actually now feel like a valued customer. I am very impressed with the attention to safety and concern for the well-being of their customers.

Overall, our experience in the malls are different in a great way. If there is one thing that this pandemic has taught me, it is the value of people and how important they are to us, especially front line workers. Even though I had a sour taste in my mouth for shopping in the past, I am thankful to the front-line staff for their bravery to be at work everyday, throughout these trying times. I have a whole new respect for the front-line staff at these stores. The same kind of respect I would direct towards our military and veterans. I no longer test my and the store workers’ biases while shopping. I admire their bravery and wonder if they are as frightened to be out in public as I am, because of COVID. I reflect on the fact that they have to be there 8-12 hours a day, constantly serving people, putting their lives at risk, to sell products for a store that may not offer danger pay. I then wonder how they feel when they get home after a shift. I wonder if they have a decontamination routine like I do. They cross my mind from time to time and I hope and pray that they and their families are safe. Hats off to all of you workers. Ekosi

References

Agahi, E (2016) CTV News: Security company apologizes to 7-year-old after false shoplifting accusations. Web. Date Accessed: June 24, 2020. Accessed from: https://winnipeg.ctvnews.ca/security-company-apologizes-to-7-year-old-after-false-shoplifting-accusations-1.3221543

Cowan, M (2017) CBC News: Canadian Tire apologizes after Indigenous customer thrown out of Regina store: 'If we were white and walked into the store, this would not have happened,' says Indigenous man. Web. Date Accessed: June 24, 2020. Accessed From: https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/saskatchewan/confrontation-canadian-tire-regina-1.4224714