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[risyaalath4521]

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[dailyfigures]

Welcome to the Official DailyFigures Bootleg Spotting Guide™!!!!

here are the steps that i like to use! each step does have exceptions so just keep going down the list until you're 100% sure!

1. where are you buying the figure?

if you're buying from a trusted figure store there is no need to worry. sites like amiami, solaris, nin-nin game, good smile company, crunchyroll store, etc. do not sell bootlegs. if you're buying from ebay or similar sites, an individual seller, a local store, etc. you need to be a little more careful. 

2. does the figure have a bootleg?

not every figure has a bootleg made of it! check myfigurecollection to make sure.

example ;

rapunzel miku has a bootleg, better check well before buying! vampire miku doesn't have a bootleg (yet?), you're good to go!

3. is the figure ridiculously cheap?

if the figure is extremely cheap for no apparent reason, it's probably a bootleg.

example ; 

this is a bootleg. no one in their right mind would pay 150 bucks for a real figure and sell it for 8.

4. is the figure being sold from china?

almost all bootlegs (apart from people reselling their bootlegs) are produced and sold in china. obviously there are real collectors selling real figures living in china too so there are exceptions, but i'd be careful if you're inexperienced.

example ;

almost all the bootleg sellers on ebay are located in china.

5. how are the seller's reviews?

if it's an individual seller you can ask them for proof of past sales. if it's a reseller website like ebay you can check the reviews on their profile. some bootleg sellers use bots to give themselves overly positive reviews. be wary of accounts with a lot of sales and somehow 100% positive reviews!

example ;

this ebay seller sells bootlegs and has 100% positive reviews.

6. how do the pictures of the figure look?

there's 3 options ;

☆ the figure looks like an obvious bootleg in the picture (unsure how to tell? we'll get to that!) -> it's a bootleg.

☆ the seller only uses the official promotional pics and none of their own -> suspicious. there's no way to visually check the figure so this is very risky.

☆ the figure looks good in the pictures that the seller took -> either this is good news OR the seller stole these pictures from someone else and will send you a bootleg. a red flag is using pics with bad quality and multiple different backgrounds/lighting (they stole the pictures from multiple different people). make sure to reverse image search their pictures!

7. how do you recognise a bootleg just from looking at it?

let's say you're looking at an ad and maybe the lighting is a little vague so you're just not fully sure whether the figure looks right or not. here's what we do!

1. get a picture of a bootleg of the figure in question which you can find on myfigurecollection (figure page -> pictures -> bootlegs).

2. get a picture of the real figure, preferably a user picture since promotional pics can look a little better than the real product. (figure page -> pictures -> figures).

3. pick some details that are clearly different between the original and the bootleg.

4. get a picture from the ad you're unsure about. check the details you've just picked. does it match the bootleg or the real figure? there we go!

example ;

these are user pictures of a real miku figure and a bootleg where i circled the differences i picked. in this case; the way her hair flows, the direction the pink flowers grow in and the length of the stem of the yellow rose.

here are two pictures i found in two different ads of this figure. i circles the differences i picked; the first pic has long straighter hair, pink flowers growing to the left direction and a yellow rose with longer stem. this is real! the right pic has shorter curled up hair, pink flowers growing straight down and a yellow rose with a very short stem. this is a bootleg!

thank you for reading my guide!!! i am by no means an expert, these are just the steps i like to use myself and i am absolutely open to suggestions and questions! :)

[riaki]

sick days ! gojo x reader ‧˚ - take a soda break…!

the rain outside your window is incessant.

it slides down the foggy glass panes in small rivulets that merge together and break apart, like the people outside on different paths of life. a sea of umbrellas moves like liquid in the streets below; a school of fish in a rainy city, under those fluorescent neons that shine like vibrant coral in the puddles of rain on the concrete.

there’s beauty even in the humid showers of tokyo, reflected in the broken lights and flickering signs; those food stalls full of warm life and fancy clothing stores that you always go in just to not buy anything, and best of all— the vending machines that dot the map.

watching raindrops race was one of your favorite hobbies as a kid. even now, you find yourself absentmindedly tracking the movements; the erratic nature of the blurry droplets as they slide down the glass makes you wonder if there’s hidden ridges on the panels that guide those watery paths.

your train of thought is rudely interrupted by another bout of coughing; that dry, itching feeling in your throat that you just can’t get rid of. drinking water to quell the cough has the same effect as telling your study buddy to stay focused for longer than five minutes. gojo is playing something on his phone again; a rhythm game, by the way he curses under his breath every time his fingers stutter and miss a beat.

you cover your mouth with your elbow, trying to expel the ghost dust that makes your breath hitch every time you try to speak, and he glances up at you, shifting in his seat. his lanky legs are cramped beneath the desktop; his frame doesn’t fit in your room. he has to duck when he enters, lest he hit his head like the first time he came over. like you, he has his head resting in his elbows. unlike you, he isn't ill with a fever so hot it burns cold and the stuffiness in your voice, and he also isn't studying.

"you sure you still wanna be reviewing? this exam doesn't really matter, y'know." gojo remarks, peering up at you from his arm pillow. "you should probably take a break, ’cus you look like shit."

he grins cheekily, pushing a pile of his papers and notes to the edge of the desk, where eraser shavings and broken bits of lead from when he couldn't solve a math problem are crammed. there's scratches and ink stains on the desk, a reminder of how you'd accidentally scribbled past the page’s edge in a sickness induced delirium. it’ll leave permanent marks; at this point you’re convinced you’re writing yourself a secret letter to the future. have you confessed to gojo yet? that’s what it’ll say. right now, it just says something unintelligible.

hopefully you’re still literate in the future, but you’re half-convinced you’re getting dumber every moment you spend caged in with this dunce of a genius.

you lean back in your chair, pulling your knee up to your chest. your pencil falls to the desk with a faint clack, soft yellow lamplight washing your faces warm as gojo scoots closer and peers over your shoulder at your progress. he has a pandora’s box of knowledge in that blue-tinted brain of his; he just refuses to apply it. it’s cocky, spoiled ego in the finest. you should hate him for it.

he snickers. "you're dumb."

"you missed forty-three notes." you countered, shooting him a glare as you point at the disappointed looking character next to a review of the stats from the song he was playing on his phone. gojo grimaces, pulling back like a sad little dog, floppy white hair covering his eyes.

"i was playing with my thumbs."

you ignore him, leaning against the wooden desk before hiding your face in your elbows again and letting out a long sigh. your hot breath curls up in the confines of your body, making you recoil slightly; uncomfortably. heat is the last thing you need with the fever you’re pretty sure you’re running.

"i hate being sick. and i hate studying. can we please give up?" you complained, glancing up at him out of the corner of your eye. your hair obscures your vision, so you can only see a faint glint of amusement in his azure irises as he studies you for a moment before scooting his chair back and standing up. without another word, he leaves the room.

wow. okay.

a moment of silence passes as you sit there, lamenting over your runny nose and the way you sound like you're about to cough a lung up every time you breathe, until you hear the soft sounds of his feet padding on the floorboards coupled with what you presume is ice clinking against glass, signaling his return. you lift your head, blinking blearily. each time you breathe in through your nose, your nostrils burn like dry ice pressed against your skin, only adding to your misery. the dreary weather outside isn't helping much, either.

the cold glass leaves a dark stain on the table, an uneven circle of condensation that soothes the aching in your fingers when your sick skin makes contact. gojo pops the can open, and you watch as he picks the glass up, tilting it to the side to pour the soda in.

“why are you holding it like that?” you asked curiously, a small yawn escaping your lips as you lean against the table. he glances down at you, a cheeky, tiny smile gracing his lips. the sound of bubbles fizzling and popping fills the cozy, cramped room; that cool, sweet liquid seems like the only thing that’ll cure your nasty cough.

“pouring it like this prevents the bubbles from escaping. you like it fizzy, don’t you?” he grins.

condensation clings to his fingers like morning dew upon flower petals as he sets the glass down. you watch the ice cubes bobble about in the soda, clinking against the cup like a mini wind chime. you’re sore from sitting in the same place with terrible posture for three hours, and there’s an ache between your fingers from gripping your pencil tight while you write.

you take a sip from the glass, letting out a contented sigh as the refreshing liquid drains down your scratchy throat. it’s not lemon honey tea for a cold, but it certainly helps. next to you, gojo takes his seat again, grabbing the throw blanket on your bed and tossing it over his legs before he grabs his pencil again. he’s using one of those short pencils, shaved down to a stub from months of use. you always offer him a mechanical pencil, but he refuses.

you sit there, waiting for him to get back to work before you realize he’s staring at you, legs crossed beneath the fuzzy blanket.

you frowned, shifting to face him as you lean against the desk. “what?”

“you’ll take care of me if i get sick too, right?” he tilts his head, like a curious bird.

“why would you get sick?”

you’re too relate to react when he makes a mad grab for your glass of soda, holding it out of your reach. a few droplets spill out and spatter onto your notebook, forcing a sigh from your lips.

“gojo…” you groaned, rubbing your temple with your fingers and praying for strength.

he just smirks, taking a lengthy sip. you watch his adam’s apple bob as a bit of condensation builds on his chin and trickles down his throat.

“you know what? i dont feel like studying either.” he announces, setting the glass back down on the wooden table with a loud thunk.

“so? what do you wanna do?” you huffed petulantly.

“download project sekai, and we can do a co-op live.”

“…you’re kidding.”

[skymar13]

Back to school with the deku squad

Izuku

Stocks up on note books and pens (doesn’t even use them for school half the time)

Has had the same back pack since elementary

Buys store brand everything (they all have allmight on them even the backpack)

Def buys what’s on the teachers supply list

Loses pencils like crazy so he has to ask sometimes but gets lowkey annoyed when others ask for his things bc he’s alr lost half of his things

Takes deodorant that’s it

Ochaco

She’s our fav brokie

Reuses school supplies that are still good from last year

She gets the dollar general school supplies (they’re cheap and can be cute)

Buys a ten pack of gel pens and regular pencils

Keeps track of every single one of

Has also had the same back pack since she was little (even still has her address in the inside)

Has a small emergency bag js for herself

Takes deodorant and perfume

Tenya

Rich mcgee over here

Buys new everything bc he uses everything he buys

Gets the high dollar note books with the crisp pages

Sharpie pens all the way and only mechanical pencils

Buys a bigger back pack every year (engenium theme)

Lends out a pencil but will tell you off for not being prepared

Also follows the teacher lists to a T

Takes deodorant cologne and hair gel in case his locks come undone

Shoto

This is the first year he’s doing back to school (homeschooled fs)

Only buys spiral notebooks (all might themed)

Buys a plane back pack but a really good one

Buya the fancy pens and pencils bc the reviews were good

He won’t lend out his supplies he’d pretend to not hear you

And airpod user

Takes bandaides and alcohol wipes for training

Takes deodorant and cologne and gum

Tsuyu

Cottage core girly

Matching note book sets with the mushrooms and flowers and shit (water proof paper)

Buys a set of pens that are all a shade of green or yellow

Buys a water proof back pack so she doesn’t have to worry abt anything

Has a water bottle and won’t share it

Lends out her supplies if you ask nicely and she likes you

She either doesn’t take hygiene or takes a body mist

[winniemaywebber]

Honeysuckle Rose • Part 5

part one part two part three part four

masterlist olive's playlist

taglist: @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666 @hephaestn @manonsmanicmind @derry-rain @bobparkhurst @bloodynereid @archival-hogwash

“Whatcha readin’?”

John Brady stands a few meters away from where Olive is sat, deep in her crumpled and aged copy of her favorite Shakespeare play. She quickly snaps it shut, expecting to be left alone for a little while longer after tiptoeing out of the Red Cross Hut, rising earlier than she anticipated. The gray morning sky had a tint of yellow to it, the sunrise surprisingly warm on her face. It was a sense of warmth and calm belonging she hadn't felt in years and she wanted to savor the moment. Creeping into the Officer’s Club with her book, curling up in one of the large armchairs on offer, she had hoped for a few more moments of peace before the day began. Sensing Brady was having a similar issue, standing there, packing his pipe, she blinks up at him and smiles. 

“The Tempest. In my opinion, the best Shakespeare ever wrote. You know his work?”

“Boy, do I!” He replies gleefully, lighting the pipe that's now in his mouth and shaking the match to extinguish it. “It's my girl's favorite, too!”

“No way! Get outta here. That's amazing.”

“She sure is,” he puffs at the pipe, his eyes glazing over at the wistful mention of her. “She's a schoolteacher. Teaches English to high school kids and she gets so excited at the time of year when the curriculum allows her to share her love of William.” 

“I like the sound of her already. What's her name?”

He smiles, a plume of smoke leaving his lips. “Jules. Juliet.”

“Juliet?” Olive replies, smiling softly at the  apparent coincidence. “As in ‘of the sun’?” 

“The very same,” he responds as he begins to turn on his heel. 

“You'd better tell her about this in your next letter to her, Brady,” she jokingly scolds. “I need someone to read my Shakespeare essays and reviews. She sounds perfect for the job.”

“Oh, she'd love that,” he laughs. 

“No need to be sarky now, John,” she says sullenly, eyes now back on the page she left off from.

“Never!” He holds up his hands in surrender. “I'm being serious. She'd love that. Give me whatever you want her to read.” 

“Bet!”

“I'll pass some good passages on to Dougie, see if he'll give it a try.” 

“John,” she smiles, eyes twinkling. “Please try.”

—

Tattie rushes in an hour later, her eyes widened with stress as she applies her red lipstick on the move, somehow managing to get the shape perfect without a mirror. “I'm so late,” she moans, walking around the club like a headless chicken. “And so hungover. Olive, be a doll and go start setting up the–”

“Already did, Tat. Coffee hot and ready for our boys.”

“The donuts are in–”

“Yep. Got those too. Sitting pretty on their trays, napkins right next to them. Don't worry, I got it covered.”

“You're a darling. I'll buy you a drink at the club tonight to say thanks.”

“Perfect!”

—

Today being a non-mission day did not mean the girls weren't busy. Right as Val and Helen got to the truck, surprised to see Olive so bright eyed and awake - “it'll be the four coffees I've gulped in the past two hours” - the boys came to the truck thick and fast. First was Brady and his crew, M'lle Zig Zig, all wanting their second breakfast of coffee and donuts, Olive and Brady giving one another a knowing nod as she passed him his cup. Next were Bucky and the Mugwump crew, Bucky somehow even more amped for the morning than Olive was, his loud voice booming across base so far that the girls were almost sure the loud noise would have the inhabitants of the local village out of bed thinking it was some type of foghorn pulling them out of their slumber. Not far behind were Buck and Demarco, the crew of Our Baby. 

“Hi, Ol,” Benny says, softly. “Good morning.”

“Benny,” she smiles, handing him a coffee before he's even asked. “And where is the most special guy of all?” A single bark comes from next to Benny, Meatball panting at his side. Olive exits the truck to greet him, knowing that if she invited him up, that would be it for the donuts - nobody was a fan of dog hair sprinkle variety.

“You mind watching him? I know it's only a practice, but I still don't wanna risk it.”

“Sure, Benny. We'll hang out, terrorize Kenny at some point, get him good and tired.”

“Yeah, Kenny needs that,” Benny smirks. 

“You know what I mean,” shoving him playfully. “Be safe, okay?” 

“Yeah, Ol. Always.” 

—

Meatball was getting restless as a few stragglers made their way to the hardstand after visiting the Clubmobile. Despite being tied up, he was trying his best to run, his little face all sad when he realized he wasn't able to roam. 

“You got it from here, Val? That dog is chomping at the bit for a run around.”

“Absolutely, Ollie,” she nods, opening her copy of Screen Stories at the page she'd left off from yesterday. “Anything to make sure those donuts stay Meatball hair free.”

“Thanks, chicken. Be right back. Helen?” She turns to Helen, her beautiful dark hair pulled expertly under a headscarf. “You wanna come too?”

“Please!”

The two begin making their own way over to the hardstand, Meatball pulling keenly at the lead to hurry his companions along, seemingly excited for some carefree recreation time. 

“Morning, ladies!” Ev Blakely comes towards them, brown leather jacket and aviators. Olive giggles, knowing exactly how weak at the knees Val was about to be at the sight of her man in his gear. Dragging behind was the man that had the very same effect on Olive, his hair perfectly slicked back, his sheepskin jacket perfectly fitted on his broad shoulders.

“Helen,” he greets. 

“Dougie,” she replies, a slight wink to Olive as she takes her cue to depart. 

Looking around to make sure nobody is watching, he takes Olive in his arms. “Hi, pretty.”

“Hi, Dougie. Good morning.”

“Good morning indeed,” he winks, kissing the corner of her mouth. “You look beautiful as always.” 

“Stop,” she giggles. “You're looking pretty good yourself.”

“Don't we make a fine pair, doll?”

“We sure do, darling.”

A screech interrupts the moment, Meatball taking off like a shot the second he spots Kenny, sending Helen flying through the air. 

“I'd better go rescue my girl, there.”

“But I wanna stay with my girl here,” he murmurs, winking.

“Your girl, huh?” she says, narrowing her eyes at him. “Very presumptuous. You haven't even asked me.”

“D'you want me to?”

The answer burns up in her body, the yes wanting to spill out so fast that it almost makes her nauseous. She isn't one to be so forthright, forcing the agreeable answer down as fast as it tries to escape her lips. 

“Maybe,” she instead teases, looking up at him flirtatiously through her lashes. “Please be safe, Dougie.”

“It's only a practice, doll.”

“Nevertheless,” she murmurs, her hand stroking his cheek. “I need you to come back to me.”

—

A familiar rumble distracts Meatball, the ball flying past his face as Kenny throws it across the airfield. 

“Meatball!” He yells, trying to get the dog's attention. “Get it, boy!” He stands, stuck to the spot, waiting for Kenny to throw the ball that's already been chucked meters away. 

“I don't got it, dummy! I threw it thatta way. You weren't lookin’!” 

“Aw, leave my pal alone,” Olive pouts, scritching Meatball under the chin. “Here, look,” she says, standing up again. She balls her hand into an almost-fist, an invisible spherical shape in the palm of it. “Go get it,” she yells as she throws the ‘ball’, Meatball taking off like a shot in the direction in which Kenny had thrown the real ball previously.

“Jeez, that darn dog.”

Olive laughs, before turning to the landscape, the sky a cloudless blue with fields rolling along underneath it. The rumble getting louder, Olive shields her eyes with her hand as Meatball brings the ball back to Helen, who instantly screams at the sight miles from them. 

A plane comes hurtling out of the sky, the trees catching fire instantly, a loud BANG heard over the noise of the Land Girls screaming in horror. 

“Holy shit,” Olive gasps, her heart caught in her throat, her body suddenly clammy all over. Helen walks over and grips her hand, her breathing equally as shaky. 

“Get outta here, girls,” Kenny urges, throwing himself into a Jeep.

“No way, Lemmons.”

“I'll come find ya if–” 

“Don't say it.”

“Olive. I'll come find ya, kay?” She simply nods, somehow not able to formulate a coherent thought. With Helen by her side, she feels her hand being tugged on. 

“We'd better get back to the truck,” she says, ushering Olive along. “It'll be okay, doll. Promise. Now, one foot in front of the other please.” Taking Meatball's leash, Olive lets Helen lead her.

Both breaking into a sprint with Meatball running slightly ahead as they approached the Clubmobile, unopened boxes all around it, they manage to catch up with Val and Tattie who had sped back in Tattie’s Jeep. 

“What the hell happened out there?” Olive yells over the sound of the running engine. 

“Baynard, he uh… him and his crew they…”

“Fuck sake! That was them?”

“Yea, it was them.” Val steps out of the jeep, leaning against it with a heavy sigh. Olive begins to walk towards her, gesturing for Meatball to stay put. 

“We just saw them this morning…” Helen remembers, head on the Clubmobile in sadness. 

Val can only nod, not quite able to speak yet due to the shock. A moment of silence is shared between them, Olive trying her best to breathe and calm down. Tears prick at her eyes and threaten to spill out onto her face, and she blinks them back with all her might. “Be a tough girl,” she whispers to herself. “Tough girls don't cry.” 

Helen removes herself from the side of the Clubmobile and walks towards Val, who, still leaning on the Jeep, remains in shock and unblinking until Helen's words bring her back to them. 

“Val? You alright?”

“Yea… just, scared shitless if I’m being honest.”

“Oh honey, I know…”

“Could have been either of them, Helen,” she says sadly, talking of Ev and Curt. "And I’m not keen on being alone.”

“Oh chicken, you’ll never be alone. You’ve got us.” Olive says, joining the two girls, taking Val’s free hand in hers, offering the same comfort as Helen.

“I need to get used to being called chicken as a term of endearment.” Val laughs as her head weakly drops to Olive's shoulder.

“There we go,” she grins. “Feeling better?”

Val nods reluctantly, as she pushes herself up off Jeep to finally stand, walking towards the abandoned boxes. Gesturing for the other girls to give her a hand, she suddenly freezes, that all too familiar scowl appearing between those perfectly outlined eyebrows.

“Meatbal! No!” The three girls look over to where the yell came from and see Tattie, hands on her hips in frustration, the scowl on her face almost rivaling Val’s as Meatball rips into one of the boxes, bouncing on his paws with excitement to try and hold it down as the cardboard escapes from him at every bite.

“I’m gonna kill DeMarco,” Tattie sighs, arms crossed. “Olive, tell your man to train his damn dog!”

“Not my man, Tat,” she replies, feeling Tattie’s pointed look burning into her as her back is turned. 

“Either way,” she sighs, her expression suddenly softer. “Someone needs to tell him.”

—

After a long day, the girls showered and got ready for an evening at the club. Finally taking some lessons from Val and Helen, Olive had, for the first time, managed to set her hair into soft curls with minimal help. While they had set, the girls had insisted on doing her makeup, transforming her into the soft, pink-cheeked girl she was beginning to fall in love with. Val insisted on filling in Olive’s brows and Helen had taken over the lashes, carefully daubing the ink on them with painstaking concentration, her tongue sticking out as she did so. 

“There,” Helen had sighed, closing the mascara box with a soft snap. “Absolutely perfect.” After getting herself ready first, Helen had arranged to meet her other girls at the club later on, keen to soothe the woes of a long day with Tattie as soon as she possibly could. 

Exiting the hut half an hour after Helen, Val and Olive found themselves surprised to see Curt waiting for them, leaning on the building ever so cooly. He had a playful grin about his face, Val rolling her eyes and groaning the second she saw his expression. Olive giggled as he approached them, Curt giving her a wink.

“Can I walk ya to the club, Val?”

“You can; I’m hard pressed to ask what you want, Curt.”

“Honest to God, I just wanna walk ya.”

“Curt?”

“Helen told me you were a bit rattled after today, and I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

Val stops walking, and gives her friend a soft smile. Taking Olive’s hand for a second, she gives her the same smile. “Olive, I’ll catch up.”

“Okay,” she nods, still smiling. “I’ll save your seat!”

Olive begins the short walk to the club from where they had been standing, and sees Benny outside with Meatball, beaming as he sees her.

“Good evening,” he says, loosening his grip on Meatball’s leash as she approaches. 

“Hey, Benny,” she replies, bending down to greet Meatball too. “Hi, buddy, what’s up? Ready for a dance? You owe me one for tearing up all those boxes this morning.”

“Oh, shit. He did what?”

“Tore up a whole box of paper cups. Tattie went ballistic and had a sour face for the rest of the day. You should probably buy her a drink to soften her up a little.”

“Y-yeah, probably a good idea,” he responds, holding the door open for her. “After you, Miss Olive.”

“Thanks, doll.” 

As she walks into the warm, welcoming atmosphere of the club, she spots Dougie right away, standing at the bar with Everett. He’s so handsome that it takes her breath away, feeling herself get a little lightheaded as he senses her eyes on him, smiling sweetly at her as he stubs out his cigarette. 

“Uhm, excuse me for a second, Benny,” she says as she begins to make her way towards the direction of the ladies room.

“Sure. What’ll it be this evening?”

“The usual. Thanks, Benny,” she smiles, his kindness causing a pang of guilt to build up in her stomach, her eyes suddenly pricking with tears as she walks away. 

—

“Get a fucking grip, Ollie,” she says to herself as she hides in a cubicle for a few moments, centering herself the way her drama teacher had taught her. Filling her lungs with air and feeling them deflate, the built up anxiety drifting out of her with each breath. The panic, however, is still there, and the guilt is practically choking her, as two large tears drop onto her lap, taking her by surprise. Benny being such a kind, sweet man, being so genuine - any girl would be lucky to have a man like that. Her thoughts, however, quickly turn back to Dougie; the way the world practically stops turning whenever he looks at her, the way he makes her belly laugh at every opportunity. How he makes her weak at the knees, how he touches her subtly as if it’s their little secret. Realizing she had been in the bathroom a lot longer than anticipated, she washes her hands hurriedly and makes her exit. 

Just outside the door stands Dougie, two glasses in his hand. 

“You sure took your time.”

“God forbid a woman take some time alone,” she giggles, looking down at his hands. “That one for me?” She asks hopefully, the liquid within the glass looking familiar. He nods, handing it to her. 

“It is. Bought it as I came in. And luckily, that wasn’t long before you strolled in with our friend DeMarco.”

“Oh, it’s like that is it?”

“Maybe.” He takes the steps that are separating them and wraps his free arm around her waist. “I really wanna fucking kiss you right now,” he murmurs near her ear. “Can I?” 

Wanting nothing more than to finally feel his mouth on hers, the way she knows it would make her toes curl in delight and give her goosebumps over her entire body, she eyes up their surroundings and shakes her head.

“Not in front of the bathroom, James. Pick a better spot.” He sighs, resting his head on her shoulder. She nuzzles into him, her free hand tickling the back of his neck. “We’d better go,” she whispers sadly, not wanting to let go of him. 

“Don’t wanna,” he purrs into her, nuzzling into her neck now. 

“Dougie,” she pleads, reluctantly moving her shoulder. 

“Fine,” he sighs, his hand now on her face. “You better dance with me later.”

“Deal.” He walks away, leaving her there alone, which she is grateful for. Finding a lone spot right by the bathroom, she downs the drink given to her, the feeling of the alcohol rushing through her veins catching her by surprise. With one more deep breath, she makes her way back to the club where she knows her friends are waiting on her, stopping at the bar to drop off her empty glass.

Stopping is a mistake - within a moment, Olive feels herself accosted by not just Benny and Dougie, but Curt, too. Feeling incredibly overwhelmed, Olive looks around to find her friends gathered around their usual table, Val and Ev gazing into one another’s eyes as if nobody in the room - nor the world - exists. 

It’s Helen that catches Olive’s eye first, Olive’s panicked gaze causing her to stand from her seat suddenly. Murmuring something to Val, she breaks her gaze from her man to stand up, pushing her chair back as she does so. 

“Okay, boys, that’s enough,” she scolds as she pushes through the small crowd to get to Olive’s side. Olive, thankful for the rescue, clings to Val’s hand without a second thought, Val rubbing the back of her friend’s hand in comfort. “I have two very thirsty friends,” she says, referring to Helen and Tattie while staring right at Curt, “waiting on you at the table.”

“I was just–”

“Helen and Tattie are waiting,” she reinstates, a furrow fixed on him that makes him look like he’s about to jump out of his skin. It works, of course, as he hurriedly gets the barkeep’s attention, ordering two rum and cokes and a whiskey for himself. 

“You two,” She turns to Douglass and DeMarco, that furrow still fixed between her brows. “If you’d like to talk to Olive, come and sit with us.” Olive feels her hand being squeezed in comfort  as she remains silent, the panic attack still swelling within her chest. 

“Oh, uh…” Dougie stutters, struggling to come up with an excuse.

“The table, Dougie,” she grins, the smile relaxing the furrow and showing her beautiful teeth. “Benny,” she turns to him now, who is bent down, petting Meatball, trying to avoid the confrontation. “You and Meatball are welcome to join us.”

Taking Olive by the arm, Val gets them back to the table in a flash. Olive smiles, shaking her head and finally able to formulate a coherent sentence.

“You could rule the world, Valencia DiRosano.”

“No,” she laughs, her eyes slightly wrinkling at the edges with glee. “But I could certainly whip these fellas into shape.” 

They all crowded around the table, snagging extra chairs from other groups with a pretty smile to make room for them all. Four Red Cross girls, three pilots, a bombardier and a dog, all sat around a small table, looking every part a hodgepodge group. Val had got up from her chair and sat in Ev’s lap as he’d patted his knee with a twinkle in his eye, Meatball instantly jumping into the empty chair the very second she had stood up from it. That got a laugh from the whole group, as he perched on the chair with his paws on the table, quite the distinguished gentleman; the most gentlemanly at the table, Olive thought, as Curt regaled a tale loudly of an event from old times that of course included Val and a blonde that she described as “practically garbage.” Everett holding her in his lap as he laughed, Curt’s voice getting more animated and louder to keep the attention on him.

“I ain’t never seen anything like it,” he reiterates, his arms flopping as he does so. “One minute she’s across the room, and the next, she’s got this girl by the elbow, hauling her out like–”

“Trash, Curt. Because, she was trash,” she sniggers, her words overlapping his in a rushed frenzy. Olive hears Benny chuckling to the right of her. 

“So, we know who to call when we need a quick exit, then, is that it?”

“Call Tattie,” Val laughs, taking a sip of her drink. “She’s just as good as I am!”

“Oh, please!” Tattie replies from across the table. “You’re the muscle. You managed to tame Kidd of that God awful scowl he’s been wearing for weeks.”

“That’s Egan’s fault,” Helen says with a sigh. “Went and got himself demoted,” she says, mostly to Olive who has a confused look on her face. 

“How exactly do you get demoted from Air Exec?” Dougie ponders to Olive’s left as he lights himself another cigarette. Olive stares at him as he does so, the first small breath of smoke leaving his mouth as he talks. Without thinking, Olive reaches over and plucks it from pretty fingers, grinning all the while before placing it in her mouth and taking a drag. “Hey!” he teases, hand going to her lips to grab it back. She hands it back after only one inhale, feeling Benny’s sad eyes on her back as it all takes place. 

“You lot up for a group shot?” A man, stood with a camera around his neck walks up to the gang.

“Absolutely!” Tattie grins, having everyone get into place so they fit. She has Benny place Meatball up front, already doing his best pose with his tongue hanging out in happiness. Val stays put on Blakely’s lap, her arm around his neck and his on her waist. In a swift movement, Dougie pulls Olive onto his lap, looking like the cat that got the cream.

“Hi,” she giggles, trying to sit pretty, his blue eyes following her every movement. Curt had somehow squeezed himself in too, between Helen and Tattie with Benny close by.

“Alright, you guys. On three!”

—

To Olive’s surprise, Curt holds a hand out to Helen. “Humor a poor sap with a dance?”

Not hearing what else is said, Olive sees Helen take his hand as he guides her from her chair to the dancefloor. Olive sees a nod pass between Val and Tattie as Tattie stands, tugging at Dougie’s hand. “Come on, you. Let’s stretch our legs, hmm?”

“Sure, Tattie…” his eyes quickly glazing over as Benny offers Olive his hand. 

“Shall we?”

“We shall.”

The music swells all around them, Olive and Dougie making eye contact as they dance with their respective partners.

“You know,” she begins, Benny swaying with her gently. “We’re spending this time together and I still know so little about you. Tell me about yourself.”

“Well,” he starts, his expression full of thought. “I lived in Chicago before I enlisted. I decided to enlist in 1940.”

“Wow,” Olive replies, taken aback. “Earlier than a lot of these boys.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods. “I was just determined to serve my country. I knew something was coming even before Pearl Harbor, and I wanted to make sure I could be a part of it.”

“That’s very brave, Benny. Stuff like that doesn’t go unnoticed.”

“Just doing my job, Olive,” he says with a shrug. “It’s what we’re all doing.”

At that moment, Olive feels herself being softly pushed into another partner, Tattie signaling Benny to dance with her. 

“Oh, I see what she’s up to.”

“It was my idea.”

“Yeah, no shit, Dougie. Color me surprised.” Nevertheless, she feels herself smile at him, both of their eyes softening as they look at one another. She suddenly realizes what happens between Val and Everett. At this moment, nobody else in this room - nor the world - exists. It’s just her and James, swaying to a slow love song, his hand in hers and the other on her waist. She closes her eyes for a second, a slow breath leaving her pursed lips. 

“You okay?” Dougie asks, his voice etched with concern.

“Yes, doll,” she replies, her hands going around his neck. 

“You’re lookin’ at me like I’ve hung the moon in the sky or somethin’,” he grins.

“Because I think, maybe you have.” She lets her head fall to his shoulder, him planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. 

“Is this a better spot?” he asks, his lips brushing against her nose as he leans his neck down slightly. Coming back up to face him, a worried expression on her face, she shakes her head once again.

“I’d love nothing more than to have you kiss me, Dougie–”

“Then let me.”

“Not in front of Benny, darling. That’s not fair.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says, his eyes downcast. “But you want me to, right?”

“I do. I absolutely do. It’s killing me to have to deny myself that. But I’m not here to hurt people, nor make them upset. Can you understand that?”

“I can,” he smiles, sadly. “You’re so fucking sweet, Ol. Just adorable.”

“Sweet on you,” she replies, her lips pressed to his cheek. 

“Ah, shit,” he murmurs, his eyes focused on something above the door. Benny walks over, patting him on the shoulder. “Gotta go, buddy.”

“Yeah, Benny. Be right there.”

Olive turns and sees the familiar red light beaming over the club, the band finishing suddenly in the middle of their song. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” She says, her voice suddenly tightening. 

“I know. I can hardly wait.” Clearing his throat, he leans in again and finds her ear. “Goodnight, goodnight. Parting is such sweet sorrow.” Olive pulls away, brows furrowed in amazement and confusion.

“You’ve been talking to Brady, huh?”

“Come on, Ol. He said his girl likes this one, so I thought I’d try it, too. Finish it.” Olive laughs at the sudden seriousness on his face, his blue eyes suddenly resembling Meatball’s. She breathes, trying to compose herself.

“That I shall say goodnight till it be morrow. There. Happy now?”

“See, wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“You’re insufferable, James Douglass.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s why you like me.” 

[ourladyofomega]

I was getting deeper and deeper into everything electronic and industrial, all during my one-year break in-between the Brentwood era and community college. The UK electronics invasion, MTV's Amp, and Wipeout XL were the major influences that led me to that point. I was starting to have an endless appetite for music, and one thing I learned about myself that I could be interested in anything and everything. I already had an affinity to golden-era hip-hop / rap and alternative. The seeds of hardcore started to grow, so there would be no stopping me at this point. There were so many genres, artists, and sounds I was getting into, and I wanted to keep up. I had a position at a department store in the shopping mall, then later at a movie rental store, so I could afford to buy titles for whatever cash I had in hand.

I didn't have a desktop with internet to find independent stores. I had yellow pages instead: thick phone-books listing hundreds upon hundreds of pages of local businesses, their addresses, and their phone numbers all in minuscule print. That's how I discovered them back then. It was a year after visiting my first-ever independent record store, Commack's Mr. Cheapo's. Then came West Babylon's Looney Tunes before the holidays. Still enthusiastic in discovering the vast unknown, I wanted to find more. Port Jefferson's Music Den would be the next destination.

I already felt like an outsider when I arrived on campus. It was a different type of demographic I was used to. I looked around and I'd still see cliques, circles, and other "exclusive" groups of students that I felt I wouldn't be included in. I'd meet newfound friends who'd introduce me to their friends, but it felt forced, and they didn't seem to care. I was crazy for Atari Teenage Riot because they showed me exactly what techno always should've been: deafening loud, criminally high-speed, and maniacally all over the place. I tried looking for people who were in them, and observed what types of music the majority were into. Simplistic, manufactured, predictable dance hits. Boring weekend club-mashers. Formulaic radio chart-toppers. I wasn't impressed. The people who were into that were shallow, superficial, judgmental, needlessly competitive, and at times just unnecessarily mean. Drama artists and attitude jockeys all over the place. That's why they called community college "13th Grade". Now you'd see the disgusting distaste of the late-Nineties music scene I had. But, I did have a couple of good cards given to me. I joined the campus newspaper which I'd write music reviews for. An attractive brunette, Sandra, randomly stopped me to strike up a conversation, and wanted to get to know me better. She was also a Jesus freak. I also made another friend I met on campus who decided to set me up with an Irish blonde acquaintance of his, and we hit it off right away. Even then, I'd deal with constant games, rudeness, and random acts of ego during my time there.

The newspaper meeting ended one late October Thursday night. I finally had the opportunity to drive out eight miles from campus to the Port Jefferson Music Den for some shopping. I walked right in, and started digging. I'm not even there for two minutes and I already find gold: the import version of Alec Empire’s The Destroyer for only $9.00 used ($22.00 brand new otherwise). That was a huge deal for me because (once again) I was an Atari Teenage Riot / DHR fanatic. Right after that? Another label release, this time from EC8OR. I'd finally discover all those artists I heard about on the internet; thirty-minute download times of grainy 480P-resolution video and all. I was really starting to like this place. I start scouring the used CD bins, and I’d stumble upon KMFDM’s banned version of Naive for $8.00 - back when used copies on eBay were selling for…$80.00 each! Then came Pigface’s Washingmachinemouth and Ministry’s The Land Of Rape And Honey for a few dollars used. I copped Fluke’s Risotto because of Wipeout XL, and I’d snatch Skinny Puppy’s Back & Forth Volume 2 and Cleopatra’s Industrial Revolution: Third Edition, all for regular price. Finally, Coldcut’s "Atomic Moog 2000" / "Reboot The System": the first-ever multimedia CD I'd ever own.

Minute-by-minute, I'd slowly discover all sorts of wild and unusual sounds and artists they had on the racks. The Port Jeff- Music Den carried all the rare, unusual, and obscure stuff no other store on the island did. Sure, there were plenty of used CDs and vinyl bins in pop, metal, alternative, shoegaze, indie, hip-hop, and jazz. It was their industrial, noise, electronic, and experimental selections, however, that would be the all-important tie-breaker. They had all what I was looking for. I remembered seeing titles like Gescom’s Minidisc on the racks, Coil’s “Autumn Equinox: Amethyst Deceivers” 7", tons of Clock DVA, Controlled Bleeding, plus some Oval and Microstoria albums. It was wild. I felt stimulated because I found plenty of abnormalities that I never knew existed, instead of the expected, typical, calculated fare that did absolutely nothing for me.

90 minutes later, I took my short stack of CDs, placed them on the counter to be rung up, cashed out, and wrapped up what would be my first visit to The -Den. $82.00 later, I leave fucking satisfied.

With each visit after, I’d continue to score big victories where I’d find them. They were Phil Western’s debut album The Escapist, Muslimgauze’s Hamas Arc, Mike & Rich’s Expert Knob Twiddlers, Aphex Twin’s Analogue Bubblebath 3, Merzbow’s Pulse Demon, and Sam & Valley. I’d nab more DHR albums from 16-17, Shizuo on vinyl, Fuck Step '98, Give Up on 12", and Alec Empire’s Squeeze The Trigger. The best? Autechre / Gescom’s “Keynell” 12" that I found under the vinyl bins and hidden inside the cabinet underneath. It was stickered for $17.00 - another record where second-hand copies sold on eBay for $125.00. I also managed to pick up a few of their 12" EPs, mainly Chiclisuite and Envane.

All these finds made The -Music Den the most unforgettable store I had the privilege to visit. They were like nothing else on the island. Sadly, they closed down after the turn of the millennium, and no store that came after was half-as-good enough to fill the hole they left behind. Believe me, if any of you reading this would’ve shopped there, you’d feel amazed and blown away like I was. I’d still have a tough time dealing with all the constant, petty drama on campus over the next couple of years. At the Port Jefferson Music Den, however, I knew that was a place where I felt like I’d belong.