#radio skid row

[eretzyisrael]

by Shiryn Ghermezian

Radio Skid Row has deleted its Instagram account as of Tuesday but Sky News Australia noted that it has shared numerous anti-Israel posts on the social media platform, including one that glorified notorious Palestinian terrorist Leila Khaled. A member of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP), which is an internationally designated terrorist organization, Khaled hijacked a Tel Aviv-bound plane in 1969 and attempted another hijacking in 1970 of an El Al flight.

Nicole told the Australian news outlet that Radio Skid Row manager Manu Montero called her in for a meeting after she covered up on station equipment a sticker that featured a Palestinian flag and the words “Free Palestine.”

During the meeting, Nicole apologized for covering the “Free Palestine” sticker before talking to management first. She discussed her opposition to the “Free Palestine” movement and its connection to vandalism and other forms of violence in Australia, and how it has made “Jewish people feel uneasy and safe in Sydney.” She also talked about being a Jewish person who had family murdered in the Holocaust. She told Sky News Australia that another person who Montero invited to the meeting, a woman, laughed at Nicole when she talked about the Jewish experience and her heritage.

Montero responded by talking about the radio station’s opposition to Israel, accusing the country of colonization and saying Israel does not have a right to exist, Nicole recalled. Her husband, who attended the meeting to support her, asked Montero if Nicole could continue hosting her Skid News show if she stayed away from discussing politics. Montero replied no, that she had to actively support the Free Palestine movement, speak about it and attend pro-Palestinian rallies. Montero also denied that Oct. 7 happened entirely, Nicole told Sky News Australia.

Radio Skid Row and Montero have not publicly commented on Nicole’s firing.

[young-botanical-genius]

Suddenly Seymour!

Indie, semi-selective, mostly movie-based RP blog for Seymour Krelborn from Little Shop of Horrors.

Willing to RP with canon and original characters.

Askbox and DMs are open. (Be sure to read the rules and about pages before interacting)

[pseudowho]

SFW Bakugou Katsuki x Reader fluff/crack

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The day of reckoning was upon you.

You couldn't delay it any longer. You had sidestepped, apologised, made excuses, simply disappeared round corners while Bakugou was looking for you, and bullied Deku into saying he hadn't seen you (while you sweated and clamped your hand over your own mouth in Deku's locker).

Eventually, you realised, one day you would have to accept a lift from Katsuki.

Again, you sweated. In midwinter. The day of reckoning was upon you. You stared at Bakugou's car in mute horror, in a tiny dress and ready for a night out with your friends.

You squeaked as he pushed you forwards, effortlessly, with one hand on the small of your back. Your feet didn't even lift, and instead you skidded by your heels like a dog dragged to the vets.

"Whatcha sweatin' about, huh? Get in. I haven't got all day."

An incomprehensible bubble of fear broke out of your mouth, and Bakugou looked at you like you'd grown another head. Your hands shook as you tried to press the seatbelt into place. Scoffing, impatient, he reached for the buckle and clipped you in himself.

Bakugou grinned at you, lopsided and wicked, his breath grazing your cheek.

"Hold onto somethin', kid."

You felt your life flash before your eyes, and--

...Bakugou pulled smoothly out of the school, seamless and fluid and slow.

Your brain short-circuited, shooting Bakugou a suspicious sideways glance.

You saw an interchange ahead, the traffic lights about to change. You gripped the seat hard enough for your nails to leave indents in the leather, expecting him to slam his foot down and speed up and roar through the red light and--

...Bakugou slowed to a glide, slipping into first gear, silken and stopping at the edge of the amber light. He shot you a look.

"...you alright?"

You squeaked, nodding and clutching your bag to your chest.

The rest of the drive was freaky.

You became trapped in slow-moving traffic. Gridlock. Infuriating. In your mind's eye, you saw row after row of cars being obliterated to make a path. Instead, Bakugou turned on the radio, looking bored and gazing out of the window.

Someone cut you up at a roundabout. Bakugou muttered under his breath, adjusting himself to rectify someone else's mistake. Nobody died. No smears of blood and ash on the tarmac. Your mouth was dry.

Another driver drove so close to Bakugou's rear, you thought they were offering intimate services. Bakugou simply scoffed in the mirror, ignoring the other driver until they relented beneath Bakugou's endless patience. Enough. That was enough, you didn't understand, you--

A click of the handbrake. A twist of the keys. A hand on your knee.

"Stay safe. Just text me when you want collectin', huh?"

You stared at Bakugou in sickening horror. He looked back, confused, and opened his mouth to speak before you blurted over him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He reddened, explosive. "What the fuck do you mean, 'what the fuck is wrong with me?', I don't--"

"Why were you so calm?!"

"What the he--"

"WHERE'S MY BOYFRIEND?"

"--alright, get out the damn car before I shove you out--"

[drabblesandimagines]

Disinhibited

Leon Kennedy x fem reader Established relationship/married, mentions of sedation, blood, bit of spice, absolute nonsense

Leon looks through the porthole-style window of the metal door to the lab and what he sees makes his heart stop. You - his beloved wife - on the floor, propped up against a row of cages at the far back wall, each wrist zip-tied to the bars above you and your head hanging low, clearly unconscious.

You’d agreed on radio silence when you’d split up, the expectation being you’d break it when either of you had located your objective. It was meant to be an easy job – suspicions that the research being undertaken at this particular oil ring was questionable at best, conducted by a skeleton crew. A USB stick holding the files the two of you had been sent to retrieve is now securely zipped in a pouch on his vest, a handful of guards sacrificing their lives for the cause. Annoyingly, a speedboat had managed to get away with the scientists onboard, but a call to HQ had the coastguard swiftly on their tail.

Leon had started to worry when he didn’t get a reply from his call-outs and had circled back, his stomach in knots. There had been slight pushback from the DSO when you and Leon had started dating, and even more so after you’d tied the knot. The two of you remained professional to a fault, but it had been observed that you worked incredibly well together. It brings both of you a bit of comfort too, knowing you have each other’s back - not one left at home wondering if the other one is going to come home in one piece.

You can take care of yourself, he has no doubt about that… But, hell, neither you or he are invincible. He swipes the pilfered keycard through the automatic lock and it takes everything within him not to sprint on over to you as the door buzzes – he needs to remain cautious, scan the area for any remaining threats and then tend to you once he’s established it’s safe. He pushes the door open and checks each square foot, gun raised, finger ready to shoot on sight. The lab is small, just the one room – no outgoing doors – and once he confirms that it is clear, he quickly pulls across a medical cart to block the door as an extra precaution, then practically skids his way over to you across the linoleum.

He drops to his knees, placing his gun down by his side and grasping hold of your chin gently to tilt your head up.

“Sweetheart…?”

The first thing Leon takes in is that you’re breathing. He immediately releases the breath he’s been holding in relief. There’s some tacky blood on your temple from a wound that is already clotting, as well what will end up as a pretty nasty bruise developing under your eye. It doesn’t seem right though – you’re too skilled to take something like that…

He pulls out his knife and slices through the first zip tie, freeing your wrist when he spots a very unwelcome sight – there’s a syringe stuck in the crook of your elbow, obviously administered in quite the hurry.

“Fuck.” Leon pulls it out slowly and holds it aloft, squinting at a small serial code within. He presses his earpiece then, and there’s a couple of beeps before he’s patched through to Hunnigan.

“This is Roost.”

“Roost, Condor One. I’ve located Kestrel – unconscious, looks like she’s been injected with something. There’s a serial on the syringe, run it for me?”

“Ready.”

He recites the numbers, slowly, making sure he’s read them right – a slip might be the wrong diagnosis. There is a tense pause as he hears Hunnigan tap away on the keyboard.

“Got a match. It’s a barbiturate, type of sedative. Good news is Kestrel’s not allergic to any of the ingredients. Usually it’s administered via an IV to keep the patient under, but if it was a controlled dose via syringe she should come round soon.”

“Okay. Good.” He cradles your face with his palm, relieved that it wasn’t something unknown or particularly nasty.

“Did you obtain the info?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got the files. Can we get an extraction?”

“45 minutes ETA, Condor One. Meet it at the helipad – side of the rig - if you can make it there with Kestrel.” He looks down at the map and notes the point, as you let out a soft, sleepy mumble.

“We’re pretty close. Think she’s beginning to wake up. I’ll give her a little longer to come round.”

“Right. Just a warning – that drug is strong.”

“Noted. Condor One out.” He presses the button and the connection drops. He grabs hold of his knife again and slices the remaining zip-tie, pressing a kiss to the indent it’s left on your wrist – bastards - before he places it down gently in your lap, and waits.

--

Leon explores the lab a little further, digging in all the cabinets and drawers he can find. There’s a metal table with some dried blood on it and he reckons after they’d injected you you must’ve hit the deck, or, more literally, the table. He comes up empty-handed of items in search, besides finding your confiscated weapons in a medical tray – he adds them to his own supply, sticking your pistol in his front pocket. By the time he’s finished, you’ve begun to show a few more stirring signs so he makes his way back over, crouching down in front of you to caress your cheek once more.

“Hey, sweetpea,” Leon smiles as you blink repeatedly, trying to get your eyes to focus. “You’re all right, I’ve got you.”

“Huh?” You mumble as the blurs slowly transition into Leon’s face, his features in a mix of concern and relief at you finally regaining consciousness.  

“Took quite the hit, huh?” He drops his hand to your waist and you flinch at the contact, causing him to withdraw. “Sorry, are you hurt there?”

“I’m okay.” You eye him warily as you reply, sitting yourself upright a little more.

“Good.” He lets out a sigh, before rubbing the back of his head. “Not gonna lie, you had me scared for a moment. Come here, sweetheart,” he slips his arm around your waist this time, pulling you forward in what he means to be a gentle kiss, but the second your lips meet he cannot resist taking it a bit further, tangling his hand in your hair to deepen it, swiping his tongue along your bottom lip to gain access within. You relent and he grins into the kiss, darting his tongue against yours and…

A stinging pain on his right cheek from where your palm has collided. There wasn’t a lot of power behind it, but it still makes him pull back. He opens his eyes in alarm and you’re glaring at him, hot tears threatening to spill.

“You bastard.”

The slap, the name – he’s heard you use some pretty colourful language over the years but never directed at him at least – renders him speechless for a moment, his mind trying to catch up with what happened to sweet reunion.

“Baby, what…?“ He reaches a hand out for you again but you slap it away, or at least you try this time - your co-ordination is all off and all you do is bat the air.

“Don’t call me that.” There’s a slur to your words, almost as if you’re drunk. “Back off, buddy.”

“I…”

“I’m married, I’ve got a husband.” You make a point of looking him up and down. “A husband that could kick your sorry ass into next week if he saw you right now.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Leon frowns, thoroughly confused now. “I am your husband.”

You laugh dryly at that. “You wish! He’s, like, ten times sexier than you without even trying.”

He looks down at himself then – he’s in his tactical vest, his usual mission get-up – maybe his hair does need a bit of a trim, but… what are you on about?

“I assure you that’s mathematically impossible.” Leon withdraws a flashlight from his belt and clicks it on, trying to direct it at your pupils. “Does your head hurt?”

“Stop that.” You wince into the light, ducking your head away. He only gets a quick glance but your pupils aren’t reacting as they should – a combination of the sedative and a concussion, maybe? You aren’t going to be a willing patient for him to get a longer look, that’s for sure. “Leave me alone.”

“Uh-uh, you need to listen.” He puts the flashlight back in his belt and cups your face with both of his hands, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I’m Leon, I am your husband. You were sedated and I think you’re concussed - that’s why things seem a little confusing right now, but you’ve got to believe me, sweetpea.”

You blink again, tilting your head in a curious manner before squinting. A delighted smile crosses your face as you take in his face, as if he hadn't already been in front of you this whole time.

“Hi,” you say, breathily. “There you are!”

“Hey.” He smiles. It is weird to see you so ditzy, however he can’t help but admit it is utterly adorable. “I’m here, darlin'. You’ll feel better in a bit, okay?”

“Nah, I feel great, baby.” You place your hand over his and tug it slightly so you can lace your fingers inbetween. “Hey, have I told you how sexy it is when you wear these gloves? We should-"

Your earpieces beep simultaneously and cut off your train of thought, as you both answer out of instinct.

“Condor One, it's Roost. Helicopter’s 20 minutes out. Thought you’d like to know the coastguard has picked up our scientist friends. Any update on Kestrel?”

“Hunnigan, it’s me!” You chirp. “I’m fine. Great.”

“Uh-huh…”

“Please tell me this is an expected side effect.” Leon comments, dryly.

“Yeah, sounds like it. Kestrel’s going to be like that a little while – I’m sure you can handle her, though.”

“By the way, Condor One – excellent. Love it, love you.” You poke Leon in the chest to really emphasise your point. “Roost – makes sense. Kestrel, though? Kestrel’s such a dumb name. I want a cooler one.”

“We don’t pick them, you know that.” Hunnigan replies, tapping away at her keyboard – Leon assumes she’s sending intel to the helicopter medic about your apparent state of mind.

“Well, we should. I'm changing mine." You declare, boldly. "My new codename is gonna be… Mrs Kennedy.”

“You don’t mean that, sweetpea.” Leon shakes his head in disbelief. You’d kept your surname when the two of you had got married – antiquated tradition that didn’t mean anything to him or you – hadn’t ever been an issue. “You don’t like it when people even mistakenly call you that.”

“Mm, that’s not strictly true." You pause to bite your lip and look up at him. "See, I’d really like it if you’d call me that next time we do that thing where y-“ He covers your mouth then, pulling you into his side. He’s now painfully aware of where you’re going with that sentence and it’s not something you - or he - will want recorded on the comms transcript for this mission for all time.

“Okay, Roost, I think we’re gonna head off now to the extraction point.”

“Wise.” The connection cuts out and he lets go of you, about to apologise, but you’re already distracted, looking down at what your hip bumped against when he grabbed you.

“Hey, that’s my gun,” your hand ghosts across his crotch as you try to take it from his pocket. He’s quicker though, grabbing hold of both of your hands and twirling you into his embrace, pressing your back into his chest and crossing his arms in front of you.

“Yeah… Best if I keep hold of it for now, don’t you think, sweetheart?”

“But it’s mine-" You protest. He steps you forward, leaning his chin on your crown as he directs you towards the door.

“You can have it back when you’re feeling a bit more yourself, I promise. Just let me look after you for now, okay?”

“Fine,” you huff out, allowing him to manhandle you forward with no resistance. “Where we going?”

“We’ve got a helicopter to catch.”

--

Satisfied that you’d forgotten about your gun, he settled for just holding your hand tightly as he tugged you up the stairs and to the helipad, keeping an eye on the horizon. It should be here soon – then maybe they could flush whatever it was in your system or you’d sleep it off in the helicopter. You’re not a big drinker – you get a little tipsy off a glass of wine – but this as if you’ve downed a whole bottle, your filter entirely wiped out.

“Leon…” You drawl, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Uh-huh?”

“I’ve been thinking about the debrief…”

“Don’t worry about that right now, darlin’. Let’s just get ourselves home first, huh?”

“No, not that one.” You bite your lip, before your hands slide round and down to his ass, giving it a squeeze and then tugging at his belt to slip below. “I have a different kind of de-brief in mind, if you get what I mean…”

The helicopter blades whir in the distance at last and he thanks his luck, pulling your hands back to around his waist and away from his boxers.

“Don’t you want me?” You pout, pathetically, pushing yourself into his chest. “I do,” he hums, “but not like this, sweetheart. When you’re more yourself we’ll talk, okay?” He presses a kiss to your crown and wraps his arms around you, keeping his eyes focused on the helicopter’s approach.

--

You feel as if you’re hungover – head throbbing and nauseous as you wake. You’d dozed off in the helicopter ride back, vaguely aware at some point of Leon carrying you out and a sharp sting in your arm before you’d fallen asleep again. You’re in the med bay back at HQ, an IV in your arm connected to a bag of fluids and Leon’s sat cross-legged in a chair by the bed, typing away on a laptop.

“Hi.” You mumble and his blue eyes meet yours, his smile creasing the corners of them.

“Hi there. How you feeling?” He closes the laptop and puts it to the side, shuffling closer to you.

“Like I drank way too much. What happened?”  

“Those scientists injected you with a pretty strong sedative and you whacked your head. Mild concussion – headache might hang around a couple of days, I’m afraid.” He hesitates then, curious. “Do you remember the lead up to that at all?”

“No.” You shake your head and regret it when the room spins. “I remember us splitting up and then everything’s a little hazy…” Patchy recollections of conversations circle through your mind. “I think… I remember saying some… things. Weird things.”

“If you count telling me that your husband is ten times hotter than me, then yes.”

“What?” You have to laugh at that one.

“Oh, yeah. Then you tried to get them to change your codename, before finally trying to make debriefing have an entirely different context.” He smirks as your face loses colour in embarrassment. “Didn’t think you had it in you, sweetpea.”

“I… I didn’t.”

“Oh, you did." He licks his lips then, maintaining eye contact. "I've been looking up some of the side effects of the sedative – apparently it can disinhibit you something rotten. Got me wondering though - you keeping some secret desires from me?”

“N-no.” You’re a terrible liar - a poker face in front of enemies, but you always crumble within a second in front of Leon.

He gets to his feet then, circles the bed to clamber in the opposite side of the IV drip and pulls you into his chest, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Cos, as I told you at the time, I’d be very happy to revisit some of your ideas when you’re feeling better…" He moves his lips down, whispering in your ear. "..Mrs Kennedy.”

--

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x 400 Followers Event.

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[chirpsythismorning]

WSQK Update

The Twitter account for WSQK Radio has reached 100(ish) songs! And while it's currently unknown whether or not this account is in any shape or form associated with Stranger Things, I still want to give a breakdown about it as well as some reasons why this account intrigues me so much, because there are actually quite a few.

For some context about when and how this started, it might be helpful to know that the first (un)official leak regarding the existence of the WSQK filming location occurred on January 18th, the day prior to WSQK making their first post.

That same Friday when WSQK made their first post, fans also got official 'Week 2' BTS from Ross, which more openly acknowledged the existence of the radio station location in comparison to his previous posts for s5.

What then followed was a rocky start in terms of this Twitter account’s approach at making posts. Initially, they only made posts consisting of lyrics, followed by another post with a short clip of the song those previous lyrics came from.

After less than a week of the account being sporadically active, they became very consistent and continued their roll-out of lyrics + video, and then adding in + dialogue, every single day. There are a few outliers, with them not making a post on March 14th and March 20th, but the first time they had a big break in between posts was from March 22nd-March 24th, notably with their March 21st's post being related to Will's birthday:

After the March 21st post, and with their return on the 25th, they officially switched it up from posting every day, to every other day, and more recently with a consistency of every 2-3ish days.

But still, over 5 months later (roughly 156 days), they remain active.

When it comes to the type of posts this account interacts with, they stick to strictly liking and sometimes retweeting/replying vaguely to posts regarding the WSQK location, along with liking the posts of anyone that replies to their posts.

After some time though, I noticed they began posting songs that they already posted before, just with different lyrics and lines from the show along with them. This actually makes sense given that they are acting as a radio station, where songs are known for playing and replaying numerous times.

Which brings me to the most interesting aspect about WSQK, which is that while a good chunk of the songs posted have featured on the show at some point, there are also a decent amount that have not.

Here is a playlist of the songs for reference:

Here are some songs specifically that pique my interest. Some I will elaborate on, while others I might just share and let you figure out for yourself why I think they're worth mentioning.

This song was originally the third song they posted, though it was removed about a week later. Hard to tell why exactly they removed it. Maybe since it was still early on. they mixed something up and decided to get rid of it? Regardless, lyrically there could be some significance to this song choice.

Since we've obviously heard Kate featured on the show already, I don't think it would be too hard for a fan to include this. Though, it being added this early on is an interesting choice to me. Lyrically a song like many on this playlist that I think have a specific meaning which could fit quite well with a potential storyline in s5. It is also one of quite a few songs that have been posted at least twice.

While this song did feature in s3 and s4, this song is one of many that are unlisted for the show. It doesn't feature on any official soundtrack or playlist and so you'd have to already know it to recognize it or go out of your way to search it for yourself. And the meaning is also ummmm... yeah.

I actually got barely any results when looking into this song and its lyrics. Though I did discover that it is most known for featuring in an episode of Miami Vice in 1986.

I could only share 10 songs here, so if you want to look at more or even all of them, I highly recommend taking a look, even if it's only out of mere curiosity. I do plan on going through and confirming all the songs one by one again because I probably mixed up or missed one or two (or more). Scrolling down a Twitter account until their first tweet is not exactly fun, but this should be accurate for the most part!

Something else I want to mention is that @erikiara80, who also keeps an eye on the account, noticed a while ago that they have always followed 11 people, some fans and some connected to the show. There was one time they unfollowed some accounts and then instantly followed some others, keeping them at 11 follows, which means the number could be an intentional choice.

A while ago, it hit me that, if this is a hypothetical radio station, wouldn't they also take requests? So Erika helped me with that by requesting two for them to post, getting this reply:

And they did in fact eventually post those two songs requested... I'll let you guess which ones :)

Basically, I felt the need to bring this whole ordeal back to the conversation now, not because I am convinced that it is run by someone connected to the show, but because the eeriness around it persists.

Keeping something going on this long would not only require someone to be very consistent, but to also have the willpower to not go over the top interacting with fans (which I don't think most fans have the self control to not take advantage of). This account doesn't seem to have any bias towards anything. In fact they remain completely impartial, sticking to their script. They seem fine with remaining in the shadows with fans assuming they are insignificant or otherwise, all while keeping the act going almost a half a year later.

With s5 getting no promotion outside of Ross's (sometimes) weekly BTS photo-dumps, this season's roll-out has been almost non-existent. Usually we would get phone numbers to call and obsess over, even 1-2 years out from release, and yet nothing.

I find this approach interesting because it does honestly resemble something I could picture the show doing to hype up s5. If the radio station is going to be a prominent location, then it offers up a really creative way to interact with fans as a way to promote the show.

Them humbly leaving hints about the final season through songs via a ‘radio station’, could parallel similarly to easter egg like approaches they've presented in the past. Only this time (the last time) it would have existed and built up for months with most not knowing about it, offering up a sleuth different songs fans could dig into if it was ever revealed to be promotion for s5.

With their being whispers that we could get something revealed in regards to s5 very soon, and with this playlist finally reaching 100 songs, I thought I would celebrate and remind ya'll it still exists in case you need an excuse to overanalyze something new.

[antisemitism-eu]

Nicole, whose last name was not publicly shared for her safety, hosted a Latino music program in Spanish on Radio Skid Row, according to Sky News Australia, which was the first to reported on her firing. On Friday, the former radio host, who has Mexican and Israeli roots, talked about being fired in a video posted on social media.

“I just came out of a meeting with Radio Skid Row,” she said. “They basically just told me that if I cannot support the Oct. 7 attacks as ‘resistance’ and as something positive — basically saying also that it’s not true that anybody just killed or burned or anything — that if I cannot support the hostages being kept, then I don’t align with their values and I cannot be there. If I cannot support the fact that Israel doesn’t have a right to exist and that Jews don’t have a right to be in Israel, I can no longer be at their station.”

[kekaki-cupcakes]

Hellooooo

I saw that ur requests are open so here I am :)

Can I request a leo valdez x hermes kid reader please? (Not headcanon I hate it 😅)

Here you go <3 [there wasn't a lot of info in the ask so I sort of created a plot and stuff, sorry it took so long]

No head canons as requested :)

┈┈┈┈┈◦•✩•◦┈┈┈┈┈

Despite the fact the gods were absolute [REDACTED] little [REDACTED]’s, your father had at least had the courtesy to not make you allergic to strawberries. The green stems still scratched your ankles as you strode through the fields, but that was a given, and you’d taken to wearing yellow gumboots as you collected the crates 

At least three quarters of Camp Half-Blood were kneeling in the dirt, gloves and wide brimmed hats on as Pollux and Katie directed them around the rows of produce they were supposed to be picking. 

The warm summer air carried the scent of the berries strongly, and disguised the stench of Pegasi poop fertilizer, thankfully. You adjusted your beaded camp necklace and looked around for Clarrisse, who was supposed to be in charge of getting the Ares kids to load the crates of strawberries into the van. She was found quickly, yelling at one of her brothers to ‘stop lazing around and get your ass moving!’ 

You tucked the clipboard under your arm and strode over, stepping over a discarded spear, “hey, all the crates packed?”

“For the first lot,” she grumbled, picking up the spear and jabbing at one of the kids who had taken a bite of the strawberry in their hand. “These buggers won’t be finished in time for the second one today- hey you! Yeah you, get your gods-damn ass up and quit whining!”

You rocked on your heels for a moment, and then decided to make an escape before she put that spear to use. All of the order’s in the first lot were for surrounding roadside cafes and grocery stores, so it’d only take a few hours.                                                                         Argus chucked you the keys as you made your way over to the pink van, which had a large ‘Delphi Strawberry Farms, Long Island Sound’ logo printed in a darker shade of pink. “Thanks dude.”

He just grunted back, and you opened the door, checking behind you that none of the crates were out of place. The perks of being a child of Hermes were far and few, extra bunkmates that didn’t want to be there and general shame on your cabin because of a certain scarred blonde never helped, but now you were the oldest, save Connor and Travis, which meant roads, traveling, and trades was your area of expertise.                                           

That's why you were listening to the jingling of the Totoro keychain on the van keys and the radio, wondering if the nearest drive through was open. It’d be a busy afternoon dropping crates of the red berries off and signing clipboards, but anything was better than dishes duty, so you volunteered happily, as one of the only demigods who could [legally] drive. 

You were out of the Camp Half-Blood border when you heard the first thump behind you, but to be fair, there was a pothole, probably because of a monster, so you ignored it, assuming a strawberry crate had tipped over. Then there was a more alive like sort of sound, and you were already reaching for where your perfectly crafted weapon sat on the passenger seat. 

The rearview mirror didn’t give away what sort of monster was hiding in the back of the van, so you eased off the accelerator and gulped, keeping one hand steady on the wheel and the other on your weapon. ANother glance to the rearview mirror, and you caught a glimpse of the monster's shadow, lit up by the soft afternoon sun. 

Then the van skidded on the road a little from lack of attention, and you whipped back to the front. You heard a loud screech behind you. Your ill-used weapon flew from your hand as the wheel spun out of control. The seatbelt cut into your chest as you were yanked forward. 

There was a sudden impact, a crash, and then a heavy silence. 

Your breathing was only just audible over the pounding of your heart, and you wiggled each of your limbs one at a time, but all that you felt were dull thuds of pain and shock through your bones. 

The next thought came to mind when smoke billowed in front of you. The bonnet was on fire. Of course. Then something fell in the back of the van, and you were scanning the trashed front seats for something to defend yourself with. 

“Holy Hephestus, that was intense.”

“Valdez?” You felt the muscles under your eye strain as a twitch formed. You turned slowly to see a sooty son of Hephaestus wiping a squashed strawberry off his cheek. The eye twitch turned to a glare. “You are so dead.”

“How is this my fault?” He scoffed, sitting up a bit and prodding at the nasty looking bruise on his jaw with a grimace. 

“You literally hid in the back of the van without telling me, and then scared the life out of me, and we hit a,” You peer through the billowing smog outside and see a brown and green shape. “Tree.”

“In my defense, you were the one that was steering the-” He must have noticed your expression, because he narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips slowly. “I’m gonna stop talking now.”

“And then fix the van.” 

“RIght, imma go fix the van,” He nodded quickly with a grin, like this was just a fun outing, and after a few pitiful tries, slid the door open. “Good idea.”

┈┈┈┈┈◦•✩•◦┈┈┈┈┈

Leo Valdez was an interesting boy. If interesting means a greasy annoying know it all with a cute face and a knack for fixing slightly dented strawberry vans. 

You were unloading all of the previously stacked wooden crates to see which ones were still sellable, and which ones would be taken back to camp and served as strawberry pie. Once that was done though, and a few orders were crossed off the list and added to the lot two clipboard, you sat on a crate going back to camp, and watched him in a totally not creepy way.

You masked it with a firm glare, which he only winked at. It was infuriating really, but then he’d stick his tongue out as he concentrated on whatever had happened under the bonnet, and maybe you could look past that.

It wasn’t your fault you were so drawn to him, it’d been him who’d showed up at the camp shop five minutes before closing to restock the windchimes the Nyssa had been making for Katie, who ran the store. And Katie was the one who’d asked you to stay behind and lock up once he was done.

Although it sort of was your fault you’d sat on the bench organizing the cash register for half an hour and bantered with him, then taken two ice creams out of the freezer and handed one over, which only resulted in the boy trailing after you like a lost but content puppy for the following weeks. It wasn’t too bad, he was funny, and brought plates of bread, cheese and olives when your shifts at the camp store ran through lunchtime.

Somehow that friendship had blossomed into stalking and van crashing, although the latter was being reversed as you basked in the sun, watching it glow from behind Leo like a halo.

He brushed the grime and oil off his hands and onto his cargo pants, smiling at you and oblivious to the greasy handprints now decorating his legs. You just raised your eyes back with a little smile and stood up, carrying the crates you could still deliver without getting sued to the back of the van.

You slid them into place, and turned around to see Leo’s arms shaking as the wooden box he held slipped a little, his face screwed up with effort. The determination on his face stopped you from rolling your eyes, instead, you took it off him. Well, tried to take it off him, but you accidentally grabbed the bit he was holding, stopping him from moving his hands away.

Leo had the faintest patch of little freckles along the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones, which were flecked with scars. 

“Uhm, sorry” he sputtered, freckles hidden by a deep red in mere seconds, and tugged his hands away, shoulders tensed. “I was just tryna-”

You blink, and realize you’d been staring a little. Then you whipped around with the crate in your arms and prickling skin. Was it obvious that you wanted to find out the story behind each of his faint scars and maybekisseachofhisfreckles? “Thanks.”

There was silence behind you as the rest of the crates were put into place, and you pulled the door shut, finally finished. You swing the van keys around your fingers, “so why were you stalking me?”

“Was not!” Leo argued, “I was…shopping.”

“...In the back of the Delphi van.”

He sighed, pulling a list out of one of his many magic pockets on his toolbelt, and handed it over. “I was gonna sneak out of the van when you stopped and go get everyones stuff, cause Chiron said we can’t go out this week, cause it's strawberry picking.” 

‘I am Kenough’ hoodie [Piper]

Giant wolf teddy [da bad boy supreme]

Peanut MnM’s [Nico]

Bluetooth speaker [Thalia]

“Thalia’s tryna get him into her music,” Leo explained, hands in his pockets, “she thinks Taylor Swift should be illegal.” 

“Huh?”

“It’s Jason’s birthday, the day after next. I was elected for present buying, cause I’m the smallest and best at hiding, and Piper thinks I’d get in less trouble. Dunno why.”

Oh gods.

 His friends knew that you liked him, that’s why he’d been sent to get the presents and hide in the back of the van. Piper was a daughter of Aphrodite, of course she knew. But Piper was nice, not that you knew her very well, but still… she wouldn’t use you… Would she?

You took a shaky breath and turned around, frowning. Then you squinted at Leo, “how were you planning on getting back after you snuck out of the van?”

“I… To be fair I wasn't in charge of planning, and I'm more of an act then think about what i fucked up kinda guy anyway.”

“Yeah, I figured.” You mutter, and open the driver's seat door, hopping in and starting the engine. The smoke billowing from the bonnet was long gone, and the van smelt of warmth and strawberries instead of fear. You pull your seatbelt over your chest and click it into place. When you glanced out the window, Leo was still standing outside in the grass, looking lost. 

You beep the horn twice and roll down the window, “you gon’ walk back to camp or you gon’ hop in?”

A grin split across his face, making your chest light and fluttery.

┈┈┈┈┈◦•✩•◦┈┈┈┈┈

“Does it matter which coloured wolf it is?”

You turn to Leo, holding up the two fluffy wolf teddies, one on either side of your head as if you were one as well. His smile wobbled across his face and he held up another one, “What about green?”

“Shrek Four, more wolves.” 

“How original,” he teased, throwing up the green wolf into the air and then failing to catch it, instead the toy face planted onto the shiny floor of the store and rolled. The Shrek wolf let out a long pitiful squeak.

They both froze, until you squeezed the pink one in your hand, and it made another sound like a dying kitten. Leo blinked a few times. “Are they- did we… Are they dog toys?” 

“We are the dumbest humans alive,” you choke, and toss the pile of multicolored dog toys back into the rack, along with the rubber balls and bone shaped plushies. Now that you actually thought about it, it was pretty obvious these weren’t for humans. 

Leo ran a hand through his hair. “Where else are we gonna get a wolf teddy? All the shops will be closing soon anyway!”

“Will he know?”

“What?”

“Will Jason know it’s a dog toy?” You ask, raising your eyebrows apprehensively. Leo’s warm eyes widened, and a little smirk turned into a big smirk in a matter of seconds. “I mean, does he mind squeaky things?”

“I mean, he was raised by wolves, maybe he’ll like it?”

┈┈┈┈┈◦•✩•◦┈┈┈┈┈

“Last one, you’re kinda good at this,” you note, passing Leo the clipboard and pen, then clambering into the back of the van to grab the last two crates, which were being delivered to the cafe between Camp Half-Blood and the closest Mcdonalds. 

Leo grinned over his shoulder as he headed to the girl in a fluorescent yellow jacket tucked into a pair of overalls waiting at the back of the cafe. “It’s my natural charm!”

You jump back out holding the stack of wooden boxes and follow him, rolling your eyes, which you had been doing far more than you usually did in the last few hours. Then again, your cheeks were sore from smiling so much, and the electricity you could feel in your veins hadn’t faded yet. 

“You have no natural charm, Valdez.”

“Course I do,” He winked, then handed the sheet to sign to the girl. “You put up with me right? I’ve definitely charmed you.”

You freeze, and then move to the palettes by the back door and dump the strawberry crates, giving the Delphi Strawberry Farms stamp on the pale wood one last look, and then getting back into the van. Only then could you let out your breath and sink into the leather seat a little, eyes wide. 

Was he catching on? Or just joking around?

There were a few more moments of silence and thoughts spinning like a whirlwind, before Leo scrambled up into the passenger seat, letting out an exaggerated sigh when he made it up. “Man, are these things built for giants or something? What normal person is expected to get up that high?”

You just shrugged, checking behind you in the rear view mirror as you pulled out of the car park. “Dunno.”

The atmosphere changed immediately as Leo glanced at you with wide eyes. He’d probably been expecting you to make a short joke at his expense, hell, he’d set you up for it. He looked away though, while you turned up the staticky radio and drove you both onto the small highway. 

The seconds ticked by painfully slowly, trees, clouds, and green hills of flowers whizzing past the windows. You could feel eyes on you every few minutes, but didn’t look back. 

Was this all at your expense? 

Was Leo in on Piper’s pretty obvious now when you thought about it, plan? Was he using your soft spot for his faded freckles and stupid smile to get out of Camp Half-Blood unnoticed?

His tapping got annoying after a while, on his legs and the seat and the door. Chewing his fingernails and pulling bits and bobs out of his toolbelt. They stopped suddenly, and a second later he turned to you, gulping. “Did I say something wrong?”

You turn the radio down til all you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears and Leo’s desperate ramblings. “I kinda do that a lot, it’s a bit of a problem, but if I said something bad I didn’t mean to make you angry. Was it when I teased you about me charming you? It was just a joke and-”

“Was it?”

Leo faltered. “What?”

Your knuckles were stiff on the wheel with how hard you were gripping it, and you had to take deep breaths so that you could focus on the road in front as well as the friendship you were messing up. “Did Piper… Did she use her powers on me to find out? Is that how you know?”

“Know what?” 

“Don’t be thick, Valdez. You know what I'm talking about.” You snap, then shut your mouth tight, guilt trickling into your veins. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. Just forget it.”

“No, no.” Leo interrupted, “Piper’d never do that, she’d not like… She wouldn’t do that, I promise. And it really was just a joke, but…”

“But what?”

“Pull over,” he blurted, reaching for where your hand sat on the wheel quickly. You check behind you, heart racing not just in your ears but everywhere, pounding through your body, dragging nerves and fear through your limbs. 

There was an inkling of monsters, always monsters, in the back of your head as you pull over to the side of the road, stopping the van in the grass. But, there was another thought in there as well, a mere fantasy, really, but- but that thought was wiped, along with every other one in you hear when calloused fingers pressed against your jaw, moving your head so-

Leo unclipped his seatbelt in a second you didn’t even register, because time stretched out and squeezed back into place like a yoyo, until you didn't know if the kiss had been a peck, or hours of soft lips and tight chests. 

His eyes were warm and brown and fearful as Leo shrunk back a little, like he was only just registering what he’d done as well. 

“You kissed me.”

“I’m sorry you were just saying all this stuff like I didn’t kinda sorta really like you back and I kinda sorta wanted to kiss you as well for ages but…”

“You were kinda sorta scared?” You filled in his silence, and Leo dipped his head, nodding a few times. You didn’t have enough time to sort out all the emotion in your head at that moment, so instead you unbuckle, and lean back over the console. 

Leo was still looking down, so you had to tilt his head up. “Well… Why don’t we practice til it isn’t scary?”

All you got in response was a wide eyed stare, and you backed down after a moment, shame curdling in your gut. The moment you let go of his chin, Leo was moving forward, your orange shirt balling in his fist and his other hand reaching to cup your face. You let him.

One of the many things you found out about Leo as you kissed him, apart from the fact his lips were chapped and he really liked tracing his fingers along your jaw, was that he had been eating strawberries on the sly all day. You could taste the berries in and on his mouth, which moved against yours in sync, like you were one and the same.

You pulled away gently, and looked down, not even knowing when your arms had slipped around his waist, but he was pulled a lot closer then he had been at the start. You didn’t mind. At all. 

“Better?”

His eyes were lidded and he was quite possibly the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. Leo grinned, his lips puffy, and tilted his head to the side a little. “Maybe a ​​​more practice. Just to check.”

“Good idea,” you mutter into another kiss. There was a little thud, and Leo moved over the gear stick between you and onto your seat, never breaking the contact. Contact between everything, really, your lips and his. Between his arms and your neck as he held you closer. Between your hands and the soft scarred skin on his sides that was warm under your fingertips. 

He shivered as you circled your fingers, ducking his head and taking a breath. When he looked back up at you, his eyes were hazy. “So, like… I'm guessing this means you aren’t mad at me anymore?”

“Why would I be mad at you?” 

“I might’ve convinced everyone I should go buy Jason’s presents cause I wanted to hang out with you…” Leo smirked, his eyes crinkled and sparkling. You sighed, but you weren’t annoyed with him, and you didn’t think you would be again. Unless he caused you to crash the van again, then she would rain hell down on the boy. 

You pressed your lips against his softly, and pulled away again. Gods, you could do this forever. “You’re an evil genius, Valdez.”

“But I’m a good kisser, right?”

[kendrene]

oooOOOOOOH how's about avatrice with "You’re so warm.” ?? :)

The paper is thin under the pads of her fingers. 

Ava smooths it flat against the surface of the table, holding it there. Presses hard enough she can feel the ridges of the old wood through it, where age and neglect chipped the paint job away. Her thumb catches against a deep groove. Some past accident. The table meeting a knife. 

She pushes down harder. Her fingers, her hand, all the way to her elbow it’s just one big ache. She aches all over today. Then again, she hurts all over most days. Her free hand scrambles past a stack of unused paper for the pencil she’d let go to shake off a cramp. It skidded far across that sea of white and Ava is forced to stretch, bow over the table in order to grasp it. The motion tilts her halfway out the chair, which rolls back; Ava shifts her hips forward and sets herself back to her task. 

The book she's copying words from is the one Bea had gotten for her second-hand the first and last time they were here. The apartment is the same too, down to leaking pipe beneath the sink Beatrice still hasn't figured out how to fix.

It's Ava who's different. And everything else that has changed.

In the textbook, rows upon rows of German words and phrases march alongside their Portuguese counterparts. It had taken several tries for Beatrice to find it, days of scouring flea markets in the small towns nearby. Sometimes alone, most often with Hans. 

“It’ll be easier to learn if you build up from your native language.” She explained after Ava had pointed out an English to German book would have worked just as fine. It had been. Easy.

Except now it’s hard.

Today’s lesson is about the items used in the kitchen. Der Wasserkocher, Ava writes diligently, eyes flicking to the battered red tea kettle sitting on the stove. Der Ofen, she adds on a whim. Even though it isn’t in the book, she knows the German word for stove.

She’s about to write down the word for dishwashing detergent, which is long winded and sputtery both in letter count and in sound, when another cramp hits.

This is the worst one so far. It starts at her fingers, trailing up from her hand to the hinge of her wrist in increasingly powerful waves. Ava’s entire arm seizes. She watches her hand contract like it isn’t her own. Clench, release, tighten, release. The final shock has the pencil tear a hole through the last, half-written word, then snap against her palm.

Ava sucks in a breath at the sting. A sharp fragment of wood scores in her skin. She wills her hand to relax so she can take a look at the damage, but it’s an impossible ask, as though her internal wiring has been cut. Ava thinks about her fingers uncurling, face fixed in a frown. Thinks about it so hard she makes herself dizzy. Her hand stays exactly the same, and droplets vivid red, more viscous than ink, patter down on the page.

The rest starts while she watches the droplets expand. Ava knows, logically, that she’s not bleeding that much. Wherever she looks, though, she sees red. Red kettle, red microwave, old red radio on top of the fridge. 

Ava closes her eyes, or maybe it’s her vision that crawls dark at the edges. There is a shift, a tilt to her axis, and the next thing she is aware of is her cheek, bruised, pressing against linoleum warmed by the sun. 

“Ava?” Beatrice calls, voice uncertain, from what could be the opposite side of the world. “Ava I heard a noise. Are you —?” Ava blinks hard. Next to her, one of the chair’s rear wheels revolves slowly. “Ava?” Beatrice again. Closer. “Do you need me to — oh.” 

Strong hands cup beneath her armpits. Lifting, pushing, pulling away. Ava’s world spins with the faltering speed of a merry-go-round that’s finally come to a stop, and she finds herself propped against something that is, at once, solid and soft.

“Hey.” Beatrice’s lips are pressed to the shell of her ear, mouth half slanted in the hair behind it. “Ava, I think that you’re having a panic attack. I’m going to put my arms around you now. I don’t want you falling again. Is that okay?” 

Ava just nods. 

She feels as battered and old as this house, where some things are broken and others don’t work like they should. Her body isn’t even her own anymore; she’s along for the ride, but doesn’t control it. Walking and running — something as stupid as writing. She can’t seem to be able to consistently do any of it anymore. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” Beatrice’s arms wind around her middle and she’s rocking the two of them gently, back and forth, in time with the sobs Ava hadn’t even realized are shaking her shoulders. “It’s alright.” One of Beatrice’s hand worms its way under her shirt, to the spot where the Halo sits heavy and idle and so very cold. “Just breathe with me. Do you think you can do that?”

Beatrice takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “Like so. Now we do it together okay? On my count. One. Two —”

On three Ava opens her mouth. The first breath is torturous, like pulling in air through a straw. It doesn’t help that her nose is runny and clogged, and that the hand she lifts up to wipe it only makes it as far as her chest.  

“Here.” Beatrice’s fingers guide hers around a handkerchief she must have had in her pocket, then help Ava bring it to her nose. The fabric is the kind of soft that comes with a lot of washing and the pattern — Ava thinks it was once a herd of stylized galloping horses — is pretty much gone. She blows her nose, and the next breath she takes comes a bit easier.

“Better?” 

“I think so.” Her voice still feels off, as if she’s speaking a language she doesn’t quite know. Ava fights down another sob. “I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Beatrice scoots them backwards so that they’re further away from the table and fully sit in the sun. Ava watches her legs trail along; she’s starting to regain a measure of feeling, and with it comes the pain from her fall. It will be a while until they can move, longer until she can heave herself up on the wheelchair on her own. If she’s lucky, tomorrow will be a good day and she’ll be able to walk. If she’s lucky.

Lately, she’s not been very lucky at all.

“Have you heard of the 3-3-3 rule?” Beatrice asks, breath a warm wash against the side of Ava’s throat. Her hands have never stopped moving. One splays over the Halo, steady and grounding. The other covers Ava’s nerveless fingers, thumb tracing the network of veins at her wrist, that look bluish-black in the sun. 

“I know the 5 seconds one.”

Beatrice snorts. It tickles.

“That’ll do. Can you tell me three foods that you like then, Ava?”

Ava frowns. She’s starting to come back to herself, and with her mind clearing up and the fear wearing away it’s easy to see what Beatrice is doing.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Then humor me, please?” The hand at her back pauses, and a hum rises from under Ava’s skin in response. It’s nothing. It’s nothing. The Halo has barely kept her alive as it is. Ava tries not to get her hopes up. She did at the start, after she came back through the Arc, and it was a big disappointment. 

She can’t afford to get hurt that way, not again. She wouldn’t survive. 

“Ugh, fine.” Afternoon sunlight, buttery smooth, streams in through the window, coating the entire world gold. “Mint chocolate chip ice cream.” 

“You have horrible taste, but go on.”

“Tacos al pastor.” 

“Okay, I can get behind those.” The hand on her back travels lower, following the ridges, the dips of her spine, and Ava feels it again. The tiniest hum, a buzzing. It’s almost a sigh. “What’s the third food?” 

“You.” 

The hand falls away. Beatrice’s arms around Ava tighten. Chin hooked over Ava’s shoulder , she rests her head there for a beat, face naturally tilting into the space between collarbone and jaw like a comet unable to resist a planet’s orbit.

“Ava.” A flash of heat spreads across Ava’s back, and she can’t tell whether it comes from the Halo or if Beatrice is blushing.

“What?”

“I just —” Bea smiles against her shoulder, plants a kiss there. “I’m not very nutritious, calories wise.”

“True.” Ava twists around in Bea’s arms, makes herself comfortable there. Given a choice, she’ll stay like this for the rest of the day. “But you’re tasty.” 

Beatrice clears her throat. “We should get you off the floor.” She suggests, deflecting. Her gaze cuts away to the floor, and she swallows. Ava will never tire of it, of how even the slightest flirting will have Beatrice in knots. Of how she’ll swallow, cheeks suffused red, pulse racing, near visible, under the cut of her jaw.

“Wait.” Ava digs in, hand gripping the front of Bea’s light pullover. She sways forward and in, and her lips brush on purpose right at Bea’s throat. Her heart pounds so fast Ava can taste it. Or maybe it’s her own. “Can we stay here a while longer? You’re so warm.”

Beatrice pulls back to look at her, mouth quirking into a bigger smile.

“We can stay here a while.”

//

“Die Schwester” Lilith has picked up Ava’s textbook after dinner and is making her way through some words, mangling them all. 

“Your German is terrible.”

“My German is perfect, thank you very much. It’s simply accented.”

“Whatever. Give me my book back.” Ava braces one elbow against the wheelchair’s armrest and stretches up, the other arm fully extended. Lilith puts the book down, just out of reach. 

“I’m so gonna run you over.”

Lilith scoffs. “And how do you plan to do that?” 

“We’re in the Alps. I’m going to wait until you’re on an incline, then let gravity do the rest.”

“Sure.”

Lilith phases. Reappears behind Ava a second later to help her closer to the table where Camila and Mary are setting the pizza they ordered for dinner on plates. 

“Why are you learning family vocabulary anyway? You and Bea are pretty fluent already.” 

“I’m not.” Ignoring the plates, Ava grabs for the box of pizzawitheverythingonit nobody else has the stomach to touch. The first bite is delicious but hot. Ava juggles the food in her mouth, speaking around it. “I have the best family ever already.”

Everything’s changed. 

Nothing is ever the same.

Ava will not walk today and she may not walk tomorrow. But as the sky fades to black and they crowd on the old couch, fighting over whose turn it is to pick a movie, Ava thinks change is alright. 

[black-arcana]

Watch: HALESTORM's LZZY HALE And JOE HOTTINGER Cover SKID ROW, FLEETWOOD MAC During Surprise Acoustic Gig

Lzzy Hale and Joe Hottinger of Grammy-winning hard rock band HALESTORM played a surprise acoustic set on December 27 at The Underdog in Nashville, Tennessee as the support act for THE DEAD DEADS. Video of the performance can be seen below.

Lzzy and Joe's setlist was as follows:

01. White Dress 02. Mz. Hyde 03. I Remember You (SKID ROW cover) 04. Familiar Taste Of Poison 05. I Like It Heavy (with "She Won't Mind") 06. Gold Dust Woman (FLEETWOOD MAC cover) 07. I Am The Fire

This past October, Lzzy and Joe announced an intimate tour featuring the two of them performing acoustic, stripped down versions of HALESTORM favorites and the music that has inspired the band. Dubbed "Halestorm's Lzzy And Joe: The Living Room Sessions", the tour consists of 12 dates in January 2025.

When the trek was first announced, Lzzy said in a statement: "With this tour, we're inviting our fans to experience what it would be like hanging with Joe and me in our living room: picking up instruments, telling stories, chatting about songs that helped shaped us as a band and brought us to where we are today."

Joe added: "Back when we decided to quit our day jobs and make music our full-time endeavor, Lzzy and I would play music wherever we could, and sometimes that meant playing acoustic covers in any bar or restaurant that would have us. That time really allowed us to develop our playing skills and dig into songwriting, and it really set the groundwork for what HALESTORM is today."

In a September 2024 interview with PK of Louisville, Kentucky's ALT 105.1 radio station, Lzzy spoke about the progress of the recording sessions for HALESTORM's follow-up to 2022's "Back From The Dead" album. Lzzy said: "We've had three separate sessions in the studio with — we're making a record with [producer] Dave Cobb. And he's actually a huge closet metal fan, and so he's really excited. And so we're making this great music, but we're constantly touring. So we've had, like, three different sessions in the studio. We're probably — what? — 70, 80, maybe, percent there. We have a studio in our house and so I'm doing a lot of the finishing touches on vocals and sewing everything up, doing solos and all that. And then we get back in in December to just say, 'Okay, this is good.' And then, yeah. And then there we are. So we're excited about it. We really are."

Cobb has shared in nine Grammy wins, including four for "Best Americana Album" and three for "Best Country Album". He's also been named "Producer Of The Year" by the Country Music Awards, the Americana Music Association (twice) and the Music Row Awards, and has been a Grammy nominee in the category.

HALESTORM and I PREVAIL recently embarked on summer 2024 co-headlining tour. Produced by Live Nation, the trek kicked off on July 9 in Raleigh and ran through August 17 in Las Vegas. HOLLYWOOD UNDEAD and FIT FOR A KING served as support. The tour was also the catalyst and the creative spark for HALESTORM and I PREVAIL's collaborative track "Can U See Me In The Dark?", which was released in June.

"Back From The Dead" has tallied over 100 million streams worldwide. Rolling Stone called the title track "a biting but cathartic howler about overcoming all obstacles," and that song as well as "The Steeple" marked their fifth and sixth number ones at rock radio, respectively. Associated Press said the album "will definitely be in the running for best hard rock/metal album of the year." Their previous album, "Vicious", earned the band their second Grammy nomination, for "Best Hard Rock Performance" for the song "Uncomfortable", the band's fourth #1 at rock radio, and led Loudwire to name HALESTORM "Rock Artist Of The Decade" in 2019.

Fronted by Lzzy with Arejay, Hottinger and bass player Josh Smith, HALESTORM's music has earned multiple platinum and gold certifications from the RIAA, and the band has earned a reputation as a powerful live music force, headlining sold-out shows and topping festival bills around the world, and sharing the stage with icons including HEAVEN & HELL, Alice Cooper, Joan Jett and JUDAS PRIEST. Additionally, Lzzy was named the first female brand ambassador for Gibson and served as host of AXS TV's "A Year In Music".

[alxixi]

sooooooooo, i've been really into the lsoh fandom lately and this thing came out on its own. hope somebody likes it

-----------------------------------------------------

‘You know, I was in town the other day and I saw just an incredible artificial Christmas tree, it was white, decorated with these little gold balls, oh Seymour, it looked so magical.’

Audrey's voice sounded so serene and calm. She made more and more small talk with him, just to fill the silence they'd been in all day. Seymour didn't mind, it was nice to have an interlocutor who responded. He also liked watching her face at times like this. When she was enthusiastic about something, her face took on an almost angelic look.

The two of them stood behind the counter, Audrey leaning on her palm, her pink scarf wrapped tightly around her neck. Seymour in turn rubbed his hands together, and wished he had a woollen hat instead of his old cap. Winters were not a pleasant time on Skid Row. There was hardly any snow, but the streets were dotted with frozen puddles and the cold seeped into every nook and cranny.

‘I don't think we could afford something like this,’ Audrey looked round the shop slightly sadly, ’but still, it would be nice to have something like this one day, don't you think?’

‘I suppose, though I don't think such a pompous thing would look good in my basement,’ Seymour said with a slight smile.

‘Stop it,’ Audrey playfully slapped his palm.

Lately, Seymour had begun to notice that they were becoming more and more comfortable touching each other. They'd begun to shake hands, sometimes high-fiving each other, and even simple physical contact, as they were doing now. Or when she lightly stroked his shoulder if Mr Mushnik was yelling at him a lot. It felt good.

‘We could do something like that here, don't you think?’

‘W-what?’ At the moment Seymour was busy looking at the little freckles, hidden by powder, on Audrey's nose. He counted seventeen.

‘Decorate the place for Christmas. We'll be working over the holidays anyway,’ she shrugged, ’that way, we'll have a more festive atmosphere.’

Seymour thought for a second, to be honest, he never celebrated Christmas. In fact, he didn't celebrate any holidays, to be even-handed. He was Jewish, well, if you believed the director of the orphanage and what Mr. Mushnik told him. He'd even brought a Menorah into the shop once, but it was stolen off the counter the very next day, after that any holidays in the shop were over. But if it made Audrey happy, he was happy to help in any way he could.

‘Well, yeah, yeah, let's do it.’

They spent the rest of the day like children in the back room, listening to the radio and cutting snowflakes out of paper (which Seymour wasn't good at) and making Christmas flower arrangements (which Seymour wasn't good at at all, although Audrey kept telling him how wonderful everything looked).

At 5:45, the shop was completely transformed. It was still a dreary, old place, but now it felt as cosy as it could be.

Mr. Mushnik, who had caught a cold the other day, had stayed home, and it was clear from his husky voice on the phone this morning that he wouldn't be back for a couple of days. Seymour figured that while they were left unattended, that time had to be made the most of. He took another look around at his creation. The display case was decorated, perhaps not as beautifully as it could have been, but he was secretly proud of his work. Turning his head slightly to the left, he looked at the conceiver of this incredible idea. Right now Audrey was standing on a stepladder, finishing with securing the mistletoe, above the front door.

‘Audrey?’ He said what he thought was too quietly, but she still turned her head slightly in his direction to him with a questioning look.

‘Since you came, things have blossomed around here.’

Laughter, like the tinkling of bells, spread through the empty shop, filling every dark corner, lighting it up.

‘You're too kind, Seymour,’ for a while they just stared at each other, ’will you, um, help me down?’

‘Oh, oh, yes, of course,’ he hurried as quickly as possible to the stepladder, nearly tripping over his own foot. He was afraid his hand would be too sweaty, but Audrey didn't seem to notice this as she gratefully accepted his help and climbed down with the grace of a cat.

They stood like that for a while, just looking at each other. Quiet Christmas music played in the background. It seemed as if nothing could spoil such a magical moment.

‘Oh, look at the time, I should be packing by now,’ one moment she was standing beside him, the next she was already pulling on her coat, hastily fastening the pearlescent buttons on it, ‘see you tomorrow!’ she shouted, popping out of the shop.

‘Goodbye,’ he said sadly as the bell rang.

Seymour realised that all the good moments were ending too quickly. And so, once again, the shop was no longer as beautiful as it had been only a few moments before, the music became abruptly sad and melancholy, and the room became cold again.

He continued to stand there, looking sadly at the decorated walls, when he heard the bell ring again, ‘we're closed....’

But it was Audrey, her cheeks had managed to redden, even in the couple of short minutes she'd been outside.

‘I completely forgot,’ she whispered with an enthusiastic smile on her face. She lifted her head up, and he followed suit. The two of them gazed at the little sprig of mistletoe that Audrey had generously sprinkled with sequins and hung over the front door. And then it happened.

If Seymour had been asked to describe what happened in one word, he would have chosen fireworks. Bright flashes of different colours flying before his eyes.

She kissed him. It was a simple, chaste kiss on the cheek that lasted no longer than a couple of seconds. But it was enough. For him it was enough.

‘I got you all dirty,’ Audrey said, with the same smile still on her face as her fingers ran over his cheek a couple of times in an attempt to wipe the red lipstick off his face. Seymour held back with all his might to keep from cocking his head at her touch.

‘That's it, I really have to go, see you tomorrow Seymour.’

He didn't know how long he'd been like this after she'd left. It didn't matter. He looked up once more. The beautiful green sprig still hung unwaveringly over the door.

It was a miracle. A little green miracle.

[scriv3lloirl]

My personal Little Shop LGBT Headcanons (+ random shit lol) cus it's pride n I can do whatever t'hell I want.

There are tons of microlabels listed here cus I love givin representation t' the lesser known labels out there, includin my own!!

Also I don't wanna hear shit bout how they wouldn't know what half these labels even are. I'm well aware of that, I'm jus havin fun.

tw: f-slur

enjoy n feel free t' ask questions bout my headcanons if ya want ‼️

Seymour Krelborn | he/they

- transgender (ftm)

- biromantic (fluctuatin male-n-female preference)

- nebularomantic

- asexual

- in modern day, he'd probably use nature related xenogenders

- unlabeled Seymour also works tbh. He seems like the kinda guy who'd be overwhelmed by all these labels

Audrey Fulquard | she/her

- transgender (mtf)

- either hetero or panromantic

- demiromantic

- reciprosexual caedsexual

- she wouldn't say all of this if anyone asked, though. She'd probably say she's gay as a general term, y'know?

- Whenever pride comes round, she makes these beautiful bouquets t' sell that are discreet pride flags. It looks like a bunch'a pretty colors, but nope. Secret lesbian flag.

Orin Scrivello | he/him (maybe it/its too)

- transgender (ftm)

- biromantic (hella internalized homophobia)

- hypersexual.

- aegosexual n/or fraysexual

- he keeps his sexuality n all that locked t'fuck DOWN. He got lucky cus his top scars healed beautifully n ya can't tell he even had any surgeries done.

- If anyone even mentions being gay round him, he suddenly gets very defensive. "Who t'hell are ya callin a faggot?!"

- He has no issues with gay people, he'll tell ya that straight up. But he is not one of them, y' hear? (He is.)

Gravis Mushnik | he/him

- cisgender man

- hetroflexible (biromantic)

- heterosexual

- All gay customers get a discount on flowers. (He jus says that n has Seymour put up a sign in the window for it ...There's no discount btw.)

Twoey / Audrey II | she/it

- agender

- acearo REPULSED

- please do not fuck the plant

- triple a threat.

Crystal | she/her

- cisgender female

- sapphic

- asexual

- Random headcanon, but all the Urchins are aliens (cousin Twoey.) They jus spawned into Skid Row one day n nobody questioned it.

Ronnette | she/he/them (any)

- gender non conformin (gnc)

- neptunic

- aceflux

- fem presentin.

- Chat I've seen like three productions where they have Ronnie played by a dude n it altered my brain chemistry.

Chiffon | she/her

- cisgender female

- lesbian

- acespec

- she is a man hatin lesbian.

Frank Guest | he/him

- cisgender male

- mlm

- nebulasexual + graysexual

- def. has the hots for Seymour.

Arthur Denton | he/it (that/thats)

- cisgender male

- panromantic

- homosexual

- ambiamorous

- I saw someone headcanon that he has a wife n kids n that he's jus a big ol jokester who moans in the dental chair!! I think bout that all the time.

- Nobody wants his freaky ahh.

Mrs. Mack | she/her

- cisgender female

- lesbian

- dating Mrs. Luce cus fuck you guys

Mrs. Luce | she/her

- transgender (mtf)

- lesbian

- dysphorsexual

- in a lavender marriage with Mr. Luce (aka. the editor of Life Magazine (who's a gay man)) she's actually datin Mrs. Mack

Mr. Bernstein | he/him

- cisgender male

- polymantic

- homosexual

- "Seymour, sweetheart, dollface, bubalah..." Yea. Y'ur gay.

Skip Snip | he/him

- cisgender male

- aromantic

- homosexual

- "It's nice to meet me, the pleasure is yours!" Yeah. Welcome t' Homoville buddy.

Patrick Martin | he/him

- cisgender male

- heterosexual

- homophobic.

- I don't like Patrick Martin. so he's a cishet.

Wink Wilkinson | he/him

- cisgender male

- panromantic

- asexual

- He'd be the kinda guy who'd wear "Free Hugs!" shirt at pride n give out really cringy pride stickers like "I'm a Pan-da!!" N shit t' the people he interviews on the radio. He's great.

[mamadarama]

ships as songs ive heard on the radio in the past week so i can get it out of my system and stop talking about songs maybe

eimugi - the one i love / rem

natsumugi - abracadabra / steve miller band

rinniki - just what i needed / the cars

reikei - separate ways (worlds apart) / journey

madakana - i remember you / skid row

madaleo - losing my religion / rem

also mr crowley by ozzy osbourne is a natsume song. thats all thank you

[th3-0bjectivist]

Dear listener, I tried listening to six full hours of mainstream radio this week again. I tried, oh, sweet merciful Jesus, I tried. Lo, I have at this point all but confirmed that modern radio is a steaming pool of liquid dogshit. Given a second appraisal, it’s dogshit with a candy-coated hardshell for ease of ingestion! The disheartening repetition, the complete lack of cutting-edge creativity and genuine emotion, ten to twenty ass-ramming commercials in a row only to come back to the feckless frenzy of fail that comprises the vast, vast majority of modern music? It was all terribly grating, and somehow the music was even worse. As soon as I couldn’t take a millisecond more of the doldrums of modern radio, I went to YouTube and listened to two straight and comparatively blissful hours of immortal work by Antonio Vivaldi. So, get into the time machine again with me dear listener, and set course for the early 1700’s, a time when radio didn't exist! The social standards might not have been top-notch, but the powdered wigs were undeniably gorgeous, and the quality of the music… to die for!!!

As anyone who comes from a musical family has likely experienced, Vivaldi had the principles of composition fused to his DNA, and perhaps even down to the subatomic level with the help of his father. Having trained for priesthood in his early years, Vivaldi instead gradually gravitated toward a now celebrated career in music. Becoming an elite level violinist under the tutelage of his father Giovanni Battista, whom he regularly toured Venice and played duelling violins with, this legend of orchestra developed an immense capacity for transforming the basics of music into something so immensely interwoven and sublime that very few can or will ever dare so much as approach the legitimate majesty of his body of orchestral work. Known as something of an Italian religious dogmatist, his calling to the church and desire to be a priest secured him the nickname ‘Il Prete Rosso’ (The Red Priest) because he was a ginger, or in modern politically correct parlance… a natural red head. During a three-decade long gig serving as Master of Violin at an historical Vincentian orphanage, Ospedale della Pietà, Vivaldi managed to gather inspiration and organize his most emotionally powerful compositions. I could probably add a lot of unnecessary details here, but his greatest and most everlasting works are part of his ‘The Four Seasons’, a set of four violin concertos that are meant to express nearly the precise sensations and emotions of summer, winter, autumn, and spring. If you smash play on the above track you will be treated to Presto (from the Summer section), a song you probably know or have heard before. Presto means ‘quickly’ in Italian and is performed at one of the quickest speeds a human can possibly play music (second only to prestissimo speed, I think). Vivaldi also had a strange disease throughout all his life which many historians suspect might have been severe asthma. And with his penchant for taking numerous ‘leaves of absences’ to tour the world and develop an international reputation, this clearly mega-talented rockstar of yester-century ended up spending all the money he earned during his lifetime. Sadly, after approaching the end of his life and skidding through a decade’s worth of career decline, all accounts show that he died completely broke, having spent what little money he had left on multiple assistants that circumnavigated him through his now dire and at the time completely untreatable health issues. Vivaldi isn’t my personal favorite composer of all-time, I’ll leave that distinction to Bach (who himself was inspired by Vivaldi). But his works live on to this very day because he accomplished exactly what he strove to do; embody the excellence of execution in his craft to produce works that bring us together as human beings and sometimes inspire a rare spark of imagination to propel us to create the very best work we can possibly bring forth.

Right above this paragraph is a live variation of The Four Seasons, a classic musical work of art and transcendent beauty that I cannot recommend highly enough. Vivaldi sure did one thing that modern, corporately funded, concentrated and even desperate bands just can’t… and that is actually innovate. He had immense natural technical skills, had them brought to bloom by his family and his own efforts, and he ended up creating over 500 instrumental and choral works, plus about 40 operas. Have *you* created 500 instrumental and choral works and 40 operas!? Didn’t think so. So, get to work on that! And join me next time for some jaunty Brahms. Image source: https://www.craiyon.com/image/dPwZA5VRRTawSH1T9Sslcw

[bluebottlemanofwarjellyfish]

Seymour missed out with the way he marketed Audrey II. My girl was already doing numbers because of her rapid growth, vibrant leaves, and breathtaking maw. If he had advertised her as the blood devouring fortune changing talking goddess flora that she is, the occult girlies would have made skid row a destination spot! And Seymour wouldn’t have to worry about all that murder because there’d be a steady stream of tourists donating blood in exchange for a chance to meet this voluptuous sanguin witch so she’d stay happy and fed plus he’d still get all that radio and tv show cash. It’s a win win! I get why he did those murders but he still kinda fumbled that bag. Turn that parasitism into mutualism babey and then you’ll have a stalwart ally when Audrey IIs spawn take over the world!

[joes-sha-la-la-la-girl]

Pick a song for each letter of your URL, and then tag that many people!

Q - Queen Bitch - David Bowie

U - Under Pressure - Queen and David Bowie

E - Excitable - Def Leppard

E - Every Rose Has Its Thorn - Poison

N - Never Say Goodbye - Bon Jovi

-

D - Danger on the Track - Europe

E - Everybody Wants To Rule the World - Tears For Fears

F - Friends Will Be Friends - Queen

L - Long Way From Home - Whitesnake

E - Eleanor Rigby - The Beatles

P - Paranoid - Black Sabbath

P - Prisoners in Paradise - Europe

A - Action - Sweet/ Def Leppard

R - Radio Ga Ga - Queen

D - Don’t Shoot Shotgun - Def Leppard

F - Fool For Your Loving - Whitesnake

A - Armageddon It - Def Leppard

N - November Rain - Guns n Roses

1 - 18 and Life - Skid Row

(I don’t have that many people to tag so I’ll just tag a few)

@friccinfricks @i-love-def-leppard @kris13mars @elle1608 @davemustainesguitar @holifer

And thank you @genxrocker for the tag 💖💖