NO DICE.

These days I sit on corner stones And count the time in quarter tones to ten Please don't confront me with my failures I had not forgotten them

[thexkarimxdiaz]

hey look, it’s karim díaz ! he’s twenty-five years old, he’s lived in shrike heights for his whole life, and he’s currently working as a custodian. i heard he’s pretty crass, but i think he’s so gutsy at the same time. can he make it out alive? -  omar ayuso, gay, male + he/him

TW: Some Drug & Alcohol References 

I. Basics

Name: Karim Díaz Gender/Pro-Nouns: Male (He/Him/His) Birthday & Age: May 22, 1963 Zodiac Sign: Gemini Place of Birth: Shrike Heights, Colorado  Occupation: Custodian Sexuality: Gay Religion: Largely atheist now, but grew up with a Muslim mother and Catholic father in a house where both traditions were important  Positive Traits: Gutsy; Sincere; Resourceful  Negative Traits: Crass; Reckless; Hotheaded Faceclaim: Omar Ayuso

II. Stats

Height: 5′7″ Eyes: Brown Hair: Brown Notable Markings: Several tattoos, including a flaming heart on the back of his hand; an olive crown on his arm; the number 19 on his opposite hand; and “Heart of Glass” stretched across his chest from a short-lived Blondie phase now newly reinvigorated MBTI: ESTJ Alignment: Chaotic Good Affiliations: None

III. Background

The youngest of four children— by a large enough margin to realize that he must have come as something of a surprise—Karim Díaz grew up in Shrike Heights, Colorado with three older sisters, a mean dog, and an empire he supposed he one day stood to inherit, now that his siblings had gone on to seek their own fortunes. After all, his father was, at least in his own head, the tri-county area king of reasonably priced outdoor recreation and had run a respectable and profitable business selling and installing swimming pools, hot tubs, patios, playsets, and trampolines since 1970,

Too small to bully but too loud to be bullied, the young Karim nevertheless carved out an early niche for himself as something of a class clown. He did not do badly in school, but for the most part, he found the classroom boring and genuinely may have thought the principal’s office simply a more engaging place to be. Sometimes the secretaries snuck him mints and candies over the desk, and sometimes, he swiped them when they were not looking.

His older sisters already had reputations for excellence: a sports star whose trophies he walked by daily in the hallways; a valedictorian and spelling bee champion; and an artiste who wore sunglasses inside before anyone else had really thought to do that. But Karim was none of those things, not that he felt the need to be—although he certainly found himself too often reminded that he was not. 

As a teenager, he fell in with a rougher crowd, and pranks that were once mostly harmless eventually grew more serious, although not exactly dire. And while the boy himself never intended mean-spiritedness, he, following his newfound pack, took part in petty vandalism, small-time pilfering from his parents’ wallets, and more than one reckless bout of fireworks set off in a field by night. He had a fake ID, with which he got his first tattoo and the occasional pack of beer, and got into serious trouble once for driving an older friend’s car without a permit and taking out a stop sign.

Karim eventually graduated with just barely passing grades, few extracurricular activities (if one can count sneaking into the chess club’s yearbook photo an activity), and zero real prospects. Perhaps as he always expected he would, then, he began working for his father, and while these long years in the family business taught him his way around a toolbox, Karim found it difficult to let go of his old habits. He ditched work to hang out with his buddies. He showed up to jobs late or not at all, still hungover from the night before. And before long, occasional bickering with dad grew into full-scale and regular arguments. 

He does not really know if he stormed out of his family home or if he was thrown out. But Karim began crashing on other people’s couches before settling down in-town with a proper roommate. He took a job at Shrike Mall right around the time it opened, joining the custodial staff, and has been doing a better job of trying to get his act together since then. His heart is big, when applied correctly, and he does seem to take a degree of real pride in keeping the place functional and presentable.

And while he has not yet had any macabre personal run-ins with those terrorizing the town, he works regular late, lonely nights, mopping the back hallways or changing light bulbs in darkened public restrooms. He is rather convinced, though, that if anyone tried to come for him, he would be able to fight them off, no problem, honest to God, real goddamn Rocky shit, for sure. 

IV: Possible Connections

Karim is open to any and all plots and connections, but below are some potential ideas to kick off brainstorming.

His Roommate

Exes, flings, or one-night-stands

Childhood Friends

Neighbors

Lunch Buddies

People who know his family or his sisters

[thexkarimxdiaz]

takemecn​:

“don’t apologize, i appreciate you checking, even just entertaining my question.” she told him with a smile. calista couldn’t be upset at karim for being in the same position as her financially, so of course, she wasn’t. it would be a lie to say that she wasn’t a little disappointed over the fact that he couldn’t provide her with some magical solution to get out of the unfortunately terrifying walk home in the dark, but his response was still nice and human enough for her to not mind. the joke about his height was enough to make her smile, and for a moment, the inconvenience of her scary journey home was forgotten. she mightn’t have gotten any money out of him, but a joke was nice compensation. 

“yeah, yeah i’m headed that way.” it might not have been as safe as the bus, or a car, but calista would take the mere company of another on her walk over being alone. who knows? maybe he’d even crack a few more jokes to make her smile along the way. “i don’t know about hitchhiking. i did that on my way to shrike before moving here - not my favorite thing to do in the world.” calista had been lucky to not have had terrible encounters like she read about in the news when she trusted strangers for transport, but she had still had some less than ideal encounters. “but if you’re going that way too, i could use the company on the walk.” she suggested. she might not be worth anything in a fight or a sighting of the killers, but she would certainly try, or at the very least she could preoccupy the killers by being such easy pickings while karim ran away. 

x

“Yeah, they don’t really pay me the big bucks here. And that’s the real problem, ain’t it? They could if they wanted to.” Karim wrinkled up his nose. In truth, he did genuinely enjoy his job, largely because it was his and his alone. He did not owe himself any longer to his father’s benevolence, and with the funds he was able to save from his custodial work at the mall, he had even managed to secure an apartment and a roommate and enough packs of cigarettes to continue taking smoke breaks when he felt like it. And thus, the process repeated. It was a beautiful, complex, symbiotic cycle, and still, it would not stop him from complaining whenever it tickled him to do so. 

Karim gave a sharp nod. “Well, no we’re not. We’re just standing here. Come on.” Extending one foot in an almost comically punctuated manner, then, he started off, but really, it was that deep-seated need to keep pushing, lest he have to spend too much time really standing in-place, thinking about the prospect of the darkness ahead. “Shit, really? I figure most people do it the other direction these days. I always told myself that if I was gonna hitchhike, I’d go for truckers maybe. Like, family mini-vans, they ain’t gonna stop for you. They got kids in the back. And nice cars...well, those guys suck. Truckers, though. He’d look at me and say: you know what, Karim, I spend a lot of lonely nights out here on the open road. But you’re so fun and exciting and cool and funny that I can’t do it no more. Shit. Let’s drive across the country together and never look back.’ And then we’d get married, and I’d get to honk the horn for all the school-buses we passed forever.” He made a tugging motion with his arm. “And fuck, if that whole stupid-ass story don’t scare the killers away, I don’t know what will.” 

[thexkarimxdiaz]

rufficns​:

the majority of his tattoos , marks in his skin existing solely as fuck yous to his parents , were by his own hand — it was incredible what you could do with little to no artistic talent , an old sewing needle and some craft ink from art murmur . evenings had been spent curled up on the kitchen linoleum , legs crossed , poking dot after dot beneath the first few layers of his flesh , imprinting shaky black lines of words of shapes that were barely legible , yet meant the world to a rebel . “ did that one myself . i could totally help with the pavement idea , if you trusted me with your canvas , “ steeled fingers tugged at the neck of his shirt to reveal the seven-legged spider that called his breastbone home , “ the angle was gnarly as hell so i forgot a whole damn leg on this guy . i think he’s cute enough , though ; gives him character . besides , he was free , “ compared to his own chicken-scratch monstrosities , professional tattoos were extortionate . he had one , worked around a shark of his own design — the amity sign from his favorite movie , jaws . such a thing had set him back hundreds , and without mommy and daddy’s handouts he had been left living off of ian and bo’s hoard of beans and microwave meals for a week straight . now that he’d managed to break away from patriarchal rule , authenticity was all that drove pj . whether that meant growing out his hair , permanently defacing his skin like a graffitied wall or running from the cops after trespassing , he was now led by his heart over his head , no matter the consequence . “ you’d make a great barbie , i’ll give you that , but you could at least be a barbie that’s been sharpied all over . give you some integrity , “ 

it wasn’t just thatcher and reagan making lives miserable . in shrike , they dealt with their own demons , and they were far worse than any politician . attacks had been cropping up every month , nearly on the dot . innocent civilians were slaughtered , lives ripped away like calves from their mothers , and yet all their president could do was smile , shrug , and insist that they were doing everything they could to tackle the ‘ problem ‘ of violence . losing family and colleagues was far more than simple inconvenience , but what could you expect from bonzo himself ?? “ i don’t know what’s worse , direct or indirect violence , ‘cus with their negligence they’ve probably taken more lives than that damn scarecrow or guy in a sheet ever had . just because we can’t see it with our own eyes doesn’t mean it’s any less screwed up , “ lives lost in the falklands outweighed those lost in shrike by a mile ; the only difference was that they weren’t reminded , every damn day , of blood staining tiles , of missing posters tacked to trees and lampposts . 

a firm shake of hands , and a truce was spoken . never again would they pass judgement toward the other simply through aesthetics alone . a nod of affirmation , a smirk of forgiveness ; “ here’s to the weirdos . “ 

x

Karim cocked his head to one side, then, brow once again shooting up in genuine awe or bewilderment at the very concept of inking one’s own tattoos. He had not, in truth, even considered the possibility. And if he had, he likely would have attempted to do so already. But, like PJ, his own ink had sprung out of a deep-seated need for rebellion. The first, the one on his chest, had been a deliberate test of a fake ID, although the shady sort of artist had only glanced at it in passing and probably would have done the job anyway once Karim started waving dollar bills around. A grin spreading across his face, though, a genuine one, coated in his more usual cheer, Karim allowed a snort to break loose from his nose. “My canvas, huh? I live off ice cream and microwave dinners. All this is sort of like those placemats little kids get at restaurants. You can color whatever you want on it.” He nodded, gesturing down at his frame, but really, this idea was one novel for how gnarly it was, letting some former high school jock rake lines across his skin. It almost made his heart hurt that maybe they could have been weird friends sooner. 

Karim hummed all the same, grateful now for this burying of the hatchet. “I saw on TV that some female spiders eat their mates. Maybe his girlfriend, like, gobbled it up. That’s hardcore as fuck of her.” Throwing back his head, Karim let out a hearty guffaw at that, writhing a little on his bar-stool as if he really did need to squirm in to get a closer look. “I’m not laughing at him. He’s cute. I’m engagin’ in the search for meaning, which is what you’re supposed to do with art. I saw that on TV too. If it’s not obvious already and shit, we really only get, like, public access.” He sighed, slumping back to lean against the countertop. Karim did not exactly make a habit of consuming educational programming, but he had been in a weird mood lately, at least a weirder mood than usual, with everything that had happened. He would drag himself back into his apartment in the daylight hours of the morning, collapse on the sofa with whatever was running when he turned the TV on, and then get up and drag himself to work for the night shift, less popular these days, all things considered. 

“I have this one little cousin who used to cut all her Barbies’ hair off with safety scissors. I’m off to a good start,” he mused, running his hands along his own closely cropped style. “But did you know, Malibu Ken has tan lines? Like, you can pull his pants off, and he has a pale ass. That’s pretty funny, ain’t it? No ‘mom’ tattoo, though.” Karim wiggled his brow at that, evidently finding some glimmer of something in the hyper-affectedness of if all. Still, he nodded along now, features growing pensive, despite this glimmer of his usual crude ridiculousness. 

“I think maybe you can’t have one without the other. Shit. Do you remember, like, the old Shrike? Back when we were growing up? I ain’t got no nostalgia for it or nothing. None. But it used to be different. Mom and pop stores. Little shops. And then...well, they build the mall, and the, and the, and the, universe says, ‘Oh, you wanna sacrifice your citizens at the altar of big business? Fine. Let’s do that.’ Indirect made direct.”

He knit his brow. “What I mean is, sometimes, I wonder if the Scarecrow, or the Ghost, or who the fuck ever...if they’re more, like, like: you take all the bad shit in a place and you make it flesh. The physical...the physical bodying of the sacrifice. Not human. Something else. I’m not makin’ sense. They were playing this old black-and-white movie in the video store. Monsters from the id or some shit.” He sniffed, but this was the alcohol talking, and Karim bit his tongue. He did not believe in that sort of thing, and really, most true horrors were very much human. This was his flaw, trying to find ways out of the darkness of the news cycle, by ignoring it or forcing it to be something else, a supernatural horror movie maybe, easily turned off. “Sorry. I’m New Wave, not New Age. We also get Tales from the Darkside reruns at night.” 

He smiled, then, despite himself. “Salud. So, now that we’re best friends, when do I get let you ruin my knuckles?”

[thexkarimxdiaz]

viola--lancaster​:

***

Viola deeply enjoyed the laughter that they were sharing, mostly at the idea of Karim with long hair and an absolutely inflated ego. Even then she would adore him and probably be the first to volunteer to braid his hair or something. But she sensed the shift, knew that slowly but surely his defenses were falling and the reality of what had happened at the mall during the power outage was getting to him. She knew he blamed himself and hated that for him. Hated that he could even spend a moment thinking he was responsible for what those maniacs did. Even with a minor slip up, they would have found a way. They always did. Viola knew that no matter how much she trained or prepared. No matter how much she read and looked over her shoulder. In the end, it would all be left to chance. And that’s what she feared the most. Luck and chance hadn’t always been on her side. 

She hugged him back fiercely, holding him close to her as she did so and she was grateful for the slight height she had on him so she could press another kiss to the top of his head. His question hit her deeply and she thought about it for a moment before nodding. “It will. It’ll still be shitty for a while. But I’ll be here for however long it takes to pass. You know I’m always here for the not so funny conversations too.” She pulled away from him slowly but only to cup his face and meet his eyes. “You know it’s not your fault, Karim. And I know me just saying that is not going to automatically convince you but I need you to hear me say it. It’s not your fault,” she repeated, brushing her thumbs across his cheeks before finally pulling away from him. “Do you want to talk more about it? We can. We can also just go back to ignoring it if you want that more.”

x

Face still buried into Viola’s shoulder, Karim gave a gentle half-nod, not yet breaking the embrace to look up at her. “Shitty, yeah,” he snorted a little into her shirt, a hollow noise. But if she said it would pass, then maybe it really would. All the same, it did not quite feel like it yet. “I don’t know how to have not so funny conversations,” he mumbled, and while this too was perhaps a throwaway joke, a remark at his own carelessness, it was still, somehow absolutely true. Vulnerability was not a sensation Karim had ever really let himself publicly feel. The needling emotions themselves were not new, of course, but for the first time, he could not properly tuck them away out of view. 

As she cupped his cheeks, then, e offered a weak smile, but it was still the best one he could muster right now. “Thank you,” he replied softly. A hand came up to wipe absently at his eye, and he took a long breath, as if holding back a sob or a sniffle that might threaten to escape. “And I know. It has shit to do with me. But that’s just it. I just...I suck, Vi. How am I gonna be the one to walk home? Why me? What about all the others?” 

He shook his head. “I...uh, I don’t wanna put it all on you or nothing, though. Love you too much for that. I’ll be okay. I’ve been...well, coping. You know. So I’ll be okay.” He smiled more brightly, but it was forced. His face fell, and Karim took another long, steadying breath. He trailed off after a beat. “Sometimes I wish I was someone else, you know? Taller. Braver. More classically handsome. Jawline and abs. Better at things. But I’m just me. Here.” He sniffed. “And that’s a cliché, isn’t it? So you run into a serial killer and now you want to reevaluate all your life choices?” he scoffed at himself. He smiled. “You’re already doin’ the lawyer thing, so do you wanna help me go to medical school?” This, at least, got a genuine laugh. 

[thexkarimxdiaz]

rebelsrebels​:

…

Max had never thought anything like that himself - he knew that if the killers got ahold of him, there was likely no getting away. At least not unscathed, and he definitely wouldn’t be kicking their asses. It seemed like the kind of thing you thought when you watched a horror movie, but not when killers were actually terrorizing your town. 

He wasn’t going to tell Karim any of this, though, of course. He didn’t have a lot of tact, but he did have some. “That shits gotta leave some.. Emotional scars, though. Regardless.”

It was true - the killers didn’t seem to be… Real. Well. They were real, of course, but they still seemed like something that you make up, not something you’d encounter in real life. “Yeah, I don’t fucking know, man. I mean, I don’t even know if I believe in ghosts, but… I mean, I don’t know. Can’t really not believe in them when they’re roaming the town, killing people and shit.”

x

Karim snorted. “Well, that’s what this is for, yeah?” he replied, managing a sardonic, sideways smirk as he lifted his liquor glass. “S’ppose that’s what folks have been sayin’ since the beginnin’ of time, though, huh? Is that unhealthy? That’s not, like, a real question.” He knew it was not exactly the height of coping mechanisms to be burying himself so severely in hedonism. But with a dearth of over options, he supposed, hedonism would have to do. And so, he would drink and smoke and dance and anything else that, at the very least, could make him feel a little better for a few precious moments. 

Karim seemed to shudder. “Shit. I didn’t even think about ghosts. That’s...that makes me feel real bad. Bein’ stuck in this place forever because of some shit someone else did to you,” he sighed before pursing up his lips. “I believe in ‘em, of course. The killers. How can ya not? It’s just, I dunno. What if by believin’ in them it means a whole lotta other stuff is true you couldn’t ever believe? Am I makin’ any sense whatsoever? What if nothing we believe is true is true?” 

He shook his head. “I don’t wanna think about it. They’re gonna change the song soon. Do you wanna dance with me?” 

[thexkarimxdiaz]

ianfm​:

“No shit? That’s wild,” Ian commented. He wasn’t familiar with anything like that but he didn’t get to creative with that sort of stuff. Whatever he scored from his close friends was good enough for him and they didn’t get too experimental with it. If it all does the same job at the end of the day he’d much rather eat a gooey brownie over a stomach full of carbonation but to each their own. “I like Raisin Bran and raisins,” he admitted. His grandma was a big fan of the wrinkly fruit and they wound up in all sorts of baked goods and savory dishes alike. “I think it’s one of those foods people just think is cool to rag on, like licorice. I like licorice too,” he went on. Clearly those foods weren’t as hated as people made them out to be because they still wound up on store shelves time and time again. “Yeah, he’s definitely getting experimental with his solo stuff now,” Ian agreed. He wasn’t sure if he was as big of a fan of Iggy Pop’s new direction having preferred the grittier sound of his past projects personally hence why that’s what he’d brought with him for Ernie to give a listen. “But no I don’t think you have. Is it of Debbie?” Ian asked noticing Karim going to lift his shirt but deciding against it. He was fine with a tattoo tour later. 

Ian looked down at the colorful characters on his glass as he listened to Karim. “Yeah,” he replied more somber than he’d hoped. It was hard finding words when talking about all of this. He’d been in Karim’s shoes before. Prior to his own attack he’d shared so many of the beliefs Karim had about things and he wanted to believe that rescue would come in whatever form that would be… but in the wake of his own attack it was hard to be hopeful for others when he’d seen no help himself. Everything that happened between him and the Jack-o-Lantern had occurred isolated from the other horrors that happened that night. It was hard for him to talk about being there for others when no one had been present in his time of need and alternatively he’d been unable to do anything to help protect those he’d lost that night. He could feel himself disassociating thinking about it and if it wasn’t for the constant sound of popcorn popping behind him to keep him alert he might’ve fallen down a bad trail of thoughts that Karim didn’t need to deal with. Ian had come over to the apartment to show support right now to be a burden. 

He was glad Karim was doing much better at keeping the conversation going and Ian was able to hide his discomfort again as he brought himself back to earth now that Karim had joined him on the couch. He didn’t have to worry about those things right now. He was safe and the people closest to him were safe and as far as he knew all of Shrike was safe today like it was most days out of the year. Fretting in safety did Ian no good and he was working hard to shake the behavior. “The fun is it keeps the little kids from destroying the claw machines because they can’t win a dead zoned Snoopy,” Ian explained. There was nothing worse than a claw based tantrum in an arcade. “I think they should go with candy too. It’s a rip off spending tickets on it at the counter though that’s usually better than the prize options,” he said but considering his job’s goal was to make money…. they likely wouldn’t go for the options that benefit the player most. The harder people worked for the cheaper the prize the more coins that wound up in the owner’s pocket. Ian nodded his head. “Yeah, it’s refreshing. I don’t do that a lot. I’m much better accumulating stuff than getting rid of it. I think our building’s gonna have a yard sale soon. We’ve been talking with our neighbors,” he explained though those plans were immediately put on pause due to the latest attack. He didn’t have much motivation bringing people around to the building after what’d happened to Dustin. He deserved peace and not a bunch of folks roaming around outside of his place to buy their old junk. Eventually though, like everything else in town, it’d happen. Life went on despite it all.

x

While the current situation in Shrike Heights had not quite quelled Karim’s love for tall tales, it had, at the very least, made him more cognizant of the ones he whipped out in polite company. Murderers in the night with hooks for hands felt, at the very least, far too dire to joke about. Still, carbonated candies were likely fair game. He snorted a little. “It’s the same thing that happened to little Mikey from the Life commercials. Do you remember those?” Turning around, Karim cocked his head to one side, raising an eyebrow. “Raisins and licorice, huh? Are you...are you a Golden Girl?” This came teasingly, with a light, good-humored laugh. “I don’t mind the licorice so much myself to be honest. The ice cream joint at the mall got a new shipment of licorice ice cream. It’s pitch black, ya know. Cool as shit. But, uh, super gross to clean up when they spill it all over. And they always spill it all over.” 

With something of another low hum, Karim gave a nod. “Nah. It just says ‘Heart of Glass,’ seeing as I’m so...pretty and catch the light just right,” he quipped, but evidently enough, he was biting back the real sentiment. Perhaps the song had resonated with him at one time because he was  on the verge of shattering. He snorted. While Karim would never admit such a thing aloud, he knew, somewhere deep down, it was at least marginally true. While making a martyr of himself for it felt inappropriate, he had led a life of a certain internal fragility, beginning, of course, with his parents, two individuals he still not quite sure had even wanted him in the first place. Still, like most unpleasant realities, he would refuse to focus on them. And in any case, he had heard somewhere that the original lyric was “pain in the ass.” And that felt better. Unpleasant things, things that took effort, love in all its forms, really were, collectively, the worst.

Karim blew a raspberry. “Hey, maybe the kids got the right idea. Ain’t that just the way? The man dangles the prize in front of ya, but you can’t win it no matter what you do. So! You seize the means. ‘Course, I don’t mean for you to have to clean up the mess.” This apparent rant against the villainy of capitalism came through a fit of laughter, and really, Karim mostly seemed to be teasing. And after a beat, his brow shot up. “I’m just joking. Don’t, like, call the President on me or nothing.” He smirked. “But see, you get me. All about the bottom dollar at the end of the day. That’s all...I mean, the mall made a lot of jobs and shit. Don’t get me wrong. I work there too. But it reminds me of, like, I dunno, the Roman coliseum or some shit. And we’re the gladiators.” 

This observation came gruffly, and Karim sort of hugged himself before shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “You talk to our neighbors? Ours just yell at us. Damn.” He sighed very deeply. “But do you, uh...do you all need any help? Moving things around? Picking things up and putting them down, I mean? I’m good at that. Might be a decent...group activity.” 

[thexkarimxdiaz]

acetonesx​:

If Rosaline could, she would have just flaked out on the rest of this shift. Leave the mess for the next person to come in, close up shop, and just vanish. She had a habit of being flaky, of doing whatever she wanted whenever she wanted regardless of any responsibilities she had. She couldn’t do that anymore, however, and she had completely turned her life around since returning to Shrike—and even before then. Everything she did revolved around getting her family back. Even if Eli never trusted her again, she wanted to be Jamie’s mother, more than anything. It was proving to be difficult, but most anything worth doing was difficult. That was what her father always said, though she doubted her would care very much for her utilizing his advice now, thanks to the rift that had opened up between them. 

“Glow in the dark paint? Well…I don’t know if we have anything that’s non toxic. How do you feel about a slight chance of being poisoned?” she asked, her tone light and teasing as she scanned the shelves. “I mean, if you’re looking for legitimate body paint, we could probably order some. My suggestion would really be to use this—” she pulled some glow in the dark fabric paint off the wall. “And just wear, like, skin-tight clothes. Depends on your purpose though.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you want to be blue?” 

x

Karim hummed, furrowing up his brow with an intellectual sort of studiousness, as if very seriously considering this possibility. “I mean, like, how poisoned are we talkin’ here? ‘Cause there’s different kinds. Like, poisoned poisoned? Dead poisoned? Or like, hey, I already eat all sorts of plasticky sugary shit, what’s one more radioactive cell? Will it make me radioactive? Do you think I’ll get superpowers?” All of this, evidently, was some sort of comedy bit, but fatigue and stress had all but robbed Karim of his usual glint. He delivered these remarks the way a news reporter might read the less exciting headlines: charity car washes and the installation of new traffic lights. Still, he managed the best smile he could muster, shrugging his shoulders.

“I don’t really know what I’m lookin’ for,” he admitted, wrinkling up his nose. “I’m, uh, goin’ to this sort of underground party out-of-town. A secret rave, I guess, but they’ve sort of been tryin’ to get everyone to bring friends so it’s not a total empty bummer. And that makes it neither a secret nor a rave.” He sighed. “Point is, I sort of want to be the brightest, most bluest, glowing-est dude in the joint, you feel me? And I’m going to dance with a lot of people, so the goal is to leave little bits of blue all over everyone. The theory is, one person feels very sad, but if we all take a little bit to hold on to, that one person doesn’t need to have all the blue on their own. It’s performance art.” He grimaced, but really, he was talking out his ass. Truly, he had only wanted to be blue for blue’s sake.

[thexkarimxdiaz]

naomisyamada​:

*

Naomi laughed. “Oh, yeah? Too perfect for lip balm? I’ll be the judge of that.” She gently took his face in her hands, tilting his chin this way and that in order to get a better look at his lips in the dim patio lighting. This inspection was both intimate and clinical. She made a small hum of approval. “Not bad. Not bad. Have you ever considered wearing makeup? I think you’d look wicked in a bright red lip.” She smiled and released him, feeling the scruff of his stubble brush against her fingers. 

She had, in fact, not heard of the song but as she watched Karim’s second performance of the night she hoped she never did. She much preferred for Karim’s version to be the only one that existed in her mind. The longer he went on, the harder she laughed. Her ribs started to hurt. His production had gotten the attention of the others loitering about the patio, but Naomi could care less about them. They ceased to matter. For the second time that night, she clapped for her new friend. “Truly transcendent,” said Naomi, “You, my friend, should be charging for this high quality entertainment. It’s actually criminal that you’re out here giving it to us all for free.”

Karim’s energy was infectious, and Naomi found herself with the urge to dance. She bumped her arm against his, an intimate gesture. “Hey, whaddaya say we go back inside and tear up the fucking dance floor? First round’s on me. See it as a liquid thanks for making my shitty night considerably less shitty.”  

x

Karim allowed himself to be handled, features falling into a wide, easy smile as his head was maneuvered about. “I have a real unique sort of charm, don’t you think? Ziggy Stardust by way of Frieda Kahlo maybe.” As he settled in Naomi’s grasp, then, he flashed his teeth. “You, though, you’re the most stunningly beautiful person I’ve ever seen. But I don’t usually wear makeup, nah. I think I got another cherry lollipop somewhere, though. I could rub it all over my face and see what happens. Hmm.” 

Once he finished his dance routine, Karim settled easily back in place. But he did not mind the attention. Truly, for someone who was making a career off slinking about the mall unseen, he lived for it. It was that pesky need to be noticed, the one that had made him a clown in school, largely because it seemed his parents had never bothered to see him. At least now he could collect a new family of those who could. “That’s what I’ll do if I ever leave Shrike, yeah? Go to Hollywood. Be famous as fuck. They’ll make me stand on a box in the movies, though. I’m, like, five-foot-seven.” 

With a nod, then, he reached out a hand to grab Naomi’s. “Ugh, they can’t handle us. Let’s do it. But if that dude I sent inside sees me, you gotta help me hide. I mean, I could punch his lights out if I wanted, but...that’ll kill the vibe, don’t ya think?” He snorted. “But puh-lease. You saved my night.” And still holding her hand, he tugged her back toward the doors.

[thexkarimxdiaz]

urdamage​:

               ernie wasn’t sure if there was a right thing to do or say in his company , not anymore . though he had endured trauma throughout his childhood , and though he had a terrible habit for finding himself injured and in turn needing to take care of himself both emotionally and physically , nothing could have prepared him for this ; nothing else he had ever been through was like suffering an attack at the hands of the killers . no , he didn’t think there was a right thing to do or to say , but regardless , he was appreciative of karim’s efforts . just as it wasn’t easy being a victim , it wasn’t easy being the roommate of a victim , ernie was confident in that fact . it was human nature to be uncomfortable around such intense trauma and victims of it ; ernie knew it wouldn’t have been very pleasant , being forced to welcome that back into your home like karim had been , but his roommate seemed to be taking this surprisingly well - for living through an impossible situation right now . 

ernie felt bad for karim , though it was hard to feel anything properly right now , as his mind was so muddled up and his pain had taken over almost completely . karim certainly didn’t deserve to be made to care for him , and it was frightening enough for ernie to the point where his fight or flight reflexes were kicking in , his mind telling him to run , to leave , to let karim be in a better situation and without the burden that was the injured young man . but ernie couldn’t even bring himself to run , and that alone was proof of just how bad ernie’s state was . for him to accept help , support and company , things had to be really quite terrible . the corners of his lips stretched upwards as karim assured him that he was going to make a trip anyway , but it wasn’t something that could exactly be called a smile . there was no happiness behind ernie’s eyes , no ease , joy , amusement or even real appreciation - despite the fact that ernie did appreciate the other . it was hard to feel anything other than pain and fear , unfortunately , no matter how hard he tried to focus on karim’s kind treatment . 

one thing ernie could focus on , however , was karim’s sudden talking of ice . where did ice come from ? the ice in the bags ? it truthfully wasn’t something ernie had ever thought about , despite filling his cups with ice more times than he could count at different house parties he attended throughout his time in shrike heights . “ shit , ” he started , his brows furrowing but refreshingly in thought , not cringeworthy pain . “ i have no fucking idea . where does that ice come from ? ” he asked , trying to cock his head to the side but moving so slowly that the point of the gesture was lost . though ernie couldn’t think very clearly at all , and though nothing could completely mask his pain , it was kind of nice , to find himself curious over something unrelated - even when it didn’t matter at all , and might have been a bit of a silly thought . “ that’s going to bother me all night . ” he gave karim another one of his not quite right attempts at a smile , to show that the bothering wasn’t actually a problem . again , it was nice to put something like this above any of his more real concerns . 

ernie didn’t usually struggle so much with conversation . he was typically more the quiet type , but he was also able to fill a room with utter nonsense when the situation called for it ; he didn’t like silence in the company of others , and he didn’t like to give them the chance to lead the conversation into territory he wasn’t comfortable with . since his attack , ernie had no choice but to let other people lead , and though he was uncomfortable putting trust into anyone else , karim thankfully hadn’t stepped in the wrong direction - not yet , at least . the way he went about taking charge for ernie , joking about why he would be the one to call pizza time , it was an act ernie could see through , but an effort being made that ernie appreciated all the same . “ self-centered and independent , totally . i won’t get in your way . ” ernie didn’t mean what he said , but for the sake of the game they were playing in order to get ernie assistance without coming on so intensely , making him reject it , he played along . 

“ oh yeah , ” ernie said , sounding completely indifferent even despite the fact that he wanted karim’s company a scary amount right now . he didn’t want to come on too strong by expressing that , nor did he really care to have to face admitting it to himself or in a space where he could really think about it . “ i was thinking of putting a tape on or something , some movie , i think i’ve still got some picks from showtime that probably should have gone back days ago . ” he looked at the small stack beside the television set . “ there’s never anything good on tv , and i swear if i have to watch that stupid raisin bran ad with the ugly raisins in it one more time … ” needless to say , ernie didn’t have a high tolerance right now . “ i love olives . just anything but the little fishies . ”

x

If someone had pressed Karim directly, he would perhaps not be able to fully articulate just why he was so possessive of the little apartment he now shared with Ernie. All things considered, his childhood itself had been pleasant, maybe even good at times, memories he could shake loose from his mind’s darker corners and brush the dust off when there was a need for nostalgia. His father, after all, was Shrike Heights’ very own outdoor leisure king, and a steady stream of hot tub, trampoline, and swimming pool installations had kept the Diaz family well-dressed, well-fed, and well-regarded by their neighbors. 

Nevertheless, Karim himself had never quite fit into the pretty portrait, always too loud, too slick, too troublesome when compared to his older sisters. And they were older, by enough years for the young man to realize, in adulthood, that ‘surprise’ was just a nice word people used for ‘mistake.’ This place, though, this place was his and his alone, owed to nobody. It could be what he wanted, what Ernie wanted, and right now, he had decided it needed to be a fortress. 

And as much as a fortress should serve to keep enemies out, it should also serve for the security of those within, he had already decided. And Ernie certainly needed that security, it seemed, even if he would not admit it. Although Karim did not quite know how much or how little to push, he had stull resolved to at least put up displays of camaraderie, of resoluteness, of availability when sought. He wanted to feel useful after a lifetime of feeling quite the opposite, useless. His father had tried, Karim could at the very least admit, tried to mold him into one day taking over the empire. But Karim had been the one to reject it: lazy, reckless, irresponsible. 

His work at the mall marked his resolution never to be those things again, although there still came times when he faltered. But it bothered him, genuinely, that he had not always been the greatest version of himself. And again, this apartment represented that, the true assumption of personal control over his fortune. 

Karim laughed now, happy to have gotten a proper response out of his roommate. “I bet you it’s a mermaid statue. You know, like, when there’s a fancy party in a TV show? Dynasty or Dallas or whatever. Shit. They always got a mermaid statue made of ice. So every store must have one they chip away at bit by bit.” This too was a strange joke, but Karim said it with such utter sincere certainty that one could really believe there were secret sirens tucked in all the back freezers of every convenience store in the country. He needed things like that, though, silly fantasies, now more than ever. And silly fantasies were that to which he had been clinging all these weeks as the situation in their once quiet town grew more and more dire. By pretending, by ignoring, and by imagining, he would, of course, not really have to face head-on just how grim the situation was becoming. Ernie was a thankfully still living reminder of that.

Wrinkling up his nose, then, Karim pulled the phone from its mount and put up a silencing finger, doing some deliberate impression of a shushing secretary as he balanced it in the groove between his shoulder and ear. He wrapped the cord around his finger and tapped his admittedly short, chipped nails on the countertop, but after a beat, he wrinkled up his nose. “I don’t actually remember the number,” he laughed distantly, moving to the drawer where he believed he had stuffed a menu. 

“I could do a tape, though. You should put it on, and I might just sit there and let it play. Background noise,” he chimed in again, continuing this dance of offering things without offering them. Pursing up his lip, though, the dial tone still droning, he shrugged. “I can...uh, I got work in the morning. If you leave ‘em out, I can always bring ‘em back. If you’re done with ‘em anyway. If not, keep ‘em. But between you and me, I happen to like the ugly raisins. I think they’re funny as fuck.”

This was a new tactic, light disagreement for the sake of light disagreement, in indication that Karim was, at the very least, trying to avoid handling Ernie with fragile gloves. Finding the menu after some digging, though, he dialed in for the pizza, placing the order with his back turned. He spun back to hang up the phone before sinking into a chair.

“I didn’t know ya liked olives. We got good taste. It’s why we can room together and shit. The little fishies ain’t bad, though. I’ll try anything once.” 

[thexkarimxdiaz]

shrikesomar​:

x

Omar surveyed the scene with mild discomfort, frustration at the carelessness and disrespect that came from whoever had a vendetta against gumball machines. They obviously hadn’t thought through what they were doing, about the cascading impacts of one split second of immaturity and destruction – what it would mean for the custodial staff that would have to clean up after them, how the owner of the gumball company would have to write off the capital expense and lose money on a new one, how the businesses around the scene would be impacted from diverted traffic… or maybe they had thought about it, and they just didn’t care.

In the grand scheme, it was a small thing. One stupid gumball machine wasn’t going to make or break anyone’s bottom line. But it was the principle to Omar. Business was often so depersonalized and robotic, but there was a real human cost and benefit to each decision. Omar couldn’t not think about it, and apparently, some people couldn’t be bothered. Needless to say, it put him in a sour mood.

At Karim’s observation, Omar hummed. “I know who does… nice guy,” he offered halfheartedly, staring at the mess in front of them. He made a mental note to reach out and let him know. Karim was right; ‘mad’ probably wouldn’t even cover it. But there was no use dwelling. He shook himself awake and righted his posture, turning to look at Karim. He smiled, almost genuine. “Yeah, I’m good. Just… teenagers, yeah?” He joked.

Omar gingerly sidestepped the destruction and moved out of Karim’s workspace. “Thanks for taking care of it… I imagine this probably isn’t top ten on your list of most fun shifts. Though, unfortunately, I doubt it cracks top ten worst either.” He grimaced. He didn’t envy the man with the broom, that was for sure. “When’d this happen?”

x

Karim snorted, a distant laugh, as he continued to work. “Yeah, I imagine you gotta be pretty Willy Wonka to, ya know, fill up candy machines for a living.” This remark did not come cruelly, but rather observationally, the way a person might comment on the weather or a need to purchase new socks. Still, as soon as he said it, Karim himself did not quite feel certain his comparison had made any sense. Willy Wonka was a scary fuck, not quite the perfect picture of sunshine and lollipops. Still, allowing the thread to fade away, Karim leaned on his broom handle and gave something of a short shrug.

“I mean, I try not to knock the young people. Seein’ as, I am sort of the young people, you know? Wasn’t really that long ago that I was just some meddlin’ kid myself,” he replied with an almost comical degree of drollness. He raised an eyebrow. And in any case, smashing gumball machines was exactly the sort of thing he and his old cronies would have gotten up to. In school, they had been somewhat notorious for wrecking bathrooms and drawing rude pictures in glaringly obvious places. Karim flashed a weak smile, showing his teeth.

“I mean, they pay me to take care of it. So long as they do that, I’ll do this,” he replied, cocking his head to one side, truly not giving an inch at what he took for some sort of misguided attempt at camaraderie. “Besides...yeah, spilled candy ain’t even close to the worst thing I’ve run into here. Pretty small in the grand scheme, don’t ya think? I’ll take this any day.” He did not have to clean up crime scenes, of course, but after the police did their work, he had, more than once, stepped into the strange aftermath. “I mean melted ice cream, of course. That’s a janitor’s worst nightmare.”

Karim shrugged then. “Dunno. Few minutes ago? Didn’t see.” He had seen. “And to be honest, even if I had...I ain’t a narc, you feel me? No real harm done. By my bet, it ain’t worth chasin’ the kids outta here. They’re the only ones willin’ to hang around for free, pal.” This came more tersely, but he had long said this mall was held together by a bunch of minimum-wage twenty-somethings and duct tape. They could not afford to be picky about their patrons, he decided. A glimmer of mischief seemed to take him against his better judgement, however. “Heck. Maybe I did it. I didn’t. But if I said I did, every other janitor here would be Spartacus about it. Don’t gumball machine dudes carry insurance?” 

[texts-from-angel-deactivated201]

[thexkarimxdiaz]

@viola--lancaster

[thexkarimxdiaz]

shrikesomar​:

open to: everyone location: shrike mall, first floor

Omar hangs up the phone with a sigh, leaning back into his chair. Calls with ownership are never walks in the park, but with the most recent attacks terrorizing the town, there’s predictable tension coming across the wires, and it’s all he can do to assure them – along with the others on the conference call – that everything is under control.

“No, no, it’s fine. SHPD has two suspects in custody. We’re hoping it’s the break they need in the case to make –– no… no, I understand. Yes, absolutely. I will keep you updated, of course.” He tries not to sigh audibly, pinching the bridge of his nose as they talk over him. It’s all concerning developments, and unstable markets, and traffic volatility, and like, he gets it, but it’s annoying.

He bites his tongue as they listen to themselves talk for another thirty seconds. “I agree wholeheartedly. Yes… yes, definitely.” He nods along in his empty office, looking at the clock hoping that the watched pot will boil faster.

Finally, the call starts to wrap up, the others on the phone finally tired of the sounds of their own voices. He likes them, most of the time, but on days like today when they’re talking to hear themselves talk, expressing concerns without any interest in his solutions, it drives him a little up the wall. So when he finally hangs up, he’s up and out of his seat practically on autopilot. It’s a quick walk through the office spaces until he’s out in the main halls of Shrike Mall, instantly at ease. He’s surrounded by the sights, sounds, and smells of his community – children screaming joyfully as they race around tables, their parents cramming food in their mouths as quickly as they can so they don’t leave the young ones unsupervised for too long. He hears teens laughing amongst themselves as they window shop. He smells more processed food than he can bear. It’s a wonderful feeling.

So wonderful, that he forgets that he’s in the middle of a walkway, and his reverie is interrupted by a body colliding with his. “Oof,” he stumbles back, reaching out to stabilize himself and the other person. “Oh, my bad. Forgot myself there for a sec, are you alright?” He asks, hand on their arm.

x

While the setup was perhaps not the most attractive display for public eyes, Karim had taken it upon himself to tip a trashcan onto its side and block off a corner of the walkway as he swept. An overzealous and unsupervised child had evidently been gifted a new baseball bat that day, and swinging it about in the mall, the little slugger had successfully smashed open a gumball machine. 

His head held low, then, Karim, who would perhaps once have found the humor in the situation, only sighed deeply as he pushed stray bits of candy and shards of glass into the waste-bin. He did not even really have the drive to pretend this was a hockey match or some shit. There were no wide slapshots sending chewing gum flying into the rubbish container. And for a moment, he wondered if perhaps fear was making him boring.

And really, Karim could not say, with certainty, that he had ever really felt genuine fear until that night, the one that had ended in two arrests, a victory for Shrike Heights he thought felt foolish to celebrate just yet. When Ernie had been attacked, he had taken precautions, of course, locked down the doors to their apartment and considered, more thoroughly, how he would knock someone right over the head if crossed. But he had not that night, for all the big game he had ever talked. He had run. And somehow, that made the whole thing feel worse.

He let out a noise of surprise as he collided with Omar, looking up with something of a start. Karim sniffed, regaining his footing. “Yeah, yeah, you’re good. I probably shoulda put the wet floor sign up or something. My fault,” he replied, moving away to approach his cart. He plucked the piece of yellow plastic from its place among the odds and ends, planted it on the floor, and then ducked down to finish up his task.

“Be careful. There’s glass. I don’t even really know who fills these machines up. They’re gonna be...mad.” He did not want to say ‘mad.’ He wanted to say ‘pissed.’ But well, he had learned, by now, to hold his tongue around the suits. They never seemed to find him as funny as he found himself. “You good?” 

[thexkarimxdiaz]

numblxttlebug​:

Hours could pass, sun rising and setting again, and Jules would be none the wiser about the whole thing when her headphones sat squarely over her ears and she listened over and over again to the same twelve songs. Her father used to tell her that an earthquake wouldn’t shake her out of her own head long enough to pay any attention to anyone. She would be hard pressed to disagree with him. 

With no idea how long she had sat and listened, over and over, to her music, it was almost startling when a shadow fell across her feet, appeared there and caused her to jump, pulling the headphones away from one ear as her eyes lifted, an eyebrow raised in muted annoyance at the interruption. “Were you standing there long?”

x

“Huh?” Karim’s own headphones were tugged squarely down over his ears, blaring some dance song or another. The music was playing much too loudly to be appropriate or healthy, but he had been consuming most things in excess these days, as if he could overstimulate himself into forgetting just how dire the situation was beginning to feel around Shrike Heights. 

Catching but not quite hearing Jules, then, he pulled them down to rest around his neck, speaking up as if to elevate his voice over the bassline. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear what ya said. Purple carry-on? Like on an airplane?” He quirked an eyebrow, looking down to fiddle with the cassette player strapped to his waist. He pressed the button to turn it off. “The volume is busted. I can’t actually make it any lower,” he explained. 

[thexkarimxdiaz]

numblxttlebug​:

Unlike the bits of chatter and complaining he tended to hear throughout his day, Peter liked to work. Perhaps in the overwhelming desire he had to prove to himself that he was, in fact, a useful member of society, he had ingrained that work ethic into himself, and no matter how many times he had to climb a ladder to get into the ceiling or fiddle with an electrical box, he found that he enjoyed it. There was a certain solidute that came from being a mall ghost, someone who simply showed up when called, fixed whatever problem had arisen, and disappeared again into the bowels of the building. Perhaps, he often thought to himself, he was more like a gremlin than a ghost. 

Occasional jobs did wear him out. When he was repeatedly called to the same store, over and over because something went wrong, he was frustrated. He could only tell them so many times how to stop an issue before it became useless. He took to always carrying his tool bag around, even when he slipped out for a quick bite to eat, just in case. And, predictably, he was halfway through his burger before it was abandoned for another job. “Nice to see you again, what’s the issue?”

x

“I give up. It hates me.” Karim was standing in one of the back hallways, holding a box of tubular lightbulbs in his hands. He had already dragged out the ladder and was standing at the foot of it, staring up at the ceiling, where the same incessant fluorescent that had been blinking for weeks still blinked down at him now. In this exact same spot, Karim had quipped that those goddamn killers should just kill the grid, instead of taking out one bulb at a time. And just that had happened. And now, the fact that this one rogue light was still refusing to function properly, no matter how many time he lugged himself upward to change it, pissed him off. He grunted, then, having summoned Peter on his walkie to make it someone else’s problem.

“You know more about electricals than I do. It must be a wire or some shit. I dunno. I’m gonna go mop something. Don’t let it shock you, I guess,” he hummed, turning around. There was a misdirected edge in his voice, and sighing, Karim allowed his shoulders to slump. “Sorry. It just ticks me off. Feel like they built this place with duct tape and dreams. You’d think they’d use some of that money they got to fix their shit.” 

[thexkarimxdiaz]

daisygoldman​:

Another shift at the RadioShack has began and honestly? All Daisy really wanted to do is to sleep. She probably got like four decent hours of sleep since she was out partying like always but, today was different. She had a huge migraine. She didn’t had any will to deal with people today. As she was sitting behind the counter, writing yet another song she heard as someone walk inside and touch the old record player that was only there as a decoration. They had so many newer ones but no, they had to touch the oldest one, the most fragile one. “Hey, dude, what made you think you can touch that?” She asked with a very sarcastic tone “There’s literally a huge sign under it that says DO NOT TOUCH THE RECORD PLAYER.”

x

“There’s, like, twenty record players in here. How the hell would anyone know which one the sign is talkin’ about, huh?” Karim was being troublesome on purpose now, but he had, at the very least, wandered into the store with a genuine directive. Stiffening, though, he tugged his hands back to himself and tucked them squarely into his pockets, a deliberate and spiteful show of ‘not touching.’ He sniffed. “Shit. Maybe I was gonna buy it. Maybe I, like, won the lottery and need a ton of antiques to fill up my big shiny new house. And now I’m not gonns. Guess I’ll just have no furniture.” After a beat, Karim rolled his shoulders, gaze falling to his feet like that of a petulant child, before looking up again. “My cassette player is bein’ weird. I spent all the lottery money on the house, so, I, uh, I was hopin’ maybe you were sellin’ some old ones for cheap or something.” 

[thexkarimxdiaz]

finaldarlings​:

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ johanna feat. shrike

located  downtown. this  is  an  open  starter  for  @shrikestart​​

johanna  felt  foolish,  but  worst  of  all,  she  knew  she  had  looked  foolish  too. her  roller  skates  should  have  been  taken  off  many  streets  back;  some  of  the  sidewalks  weren’t  smooth  enough  to  skate  down  nearing  old  shrike  and  the  outskirts,  she  knew  this,  having  trekked  home  on  a  select  few  of  the  rougher  paths  ever  since  she  was  old  enough  to  take  herself  away  from  the  trailer  park. typically  she  always  stopped  at  a  particular  bench  to  swap  over  to  her  regular  shoes  -  or  vice  versa  if  she  was  heading  towards  the  mall  -  but  impatience  got  the  better  of  her  that  day. life  was  growing  increasingly  hard,  with  all  of  the  attacks  continuing  to  happen,  and  johanna  didn’t  feel  too  comfortable  with  her  slower  means  of  transportation  when  she  was  waiting  for  some  sick  happenings  to  occur  at  the  hands  of  the  killers  who  remained  outside  of  police  custody,  likely  angry  at  the  loss  of  two  of  their  own  and  wanting  to  get  their  revenge.

she  had  fared  well  for  a  short  stretch,  until  a  crack  in  the  path  sent  her  flying  to  a  gruesome  crash  -  that  was  how  she  had  made  a  fool  of  herself. landing  hard  on  her  hands  and  her  knees,  the  impact  left  her  breathless,  completely  winded  and  in  shock  for  just  a  moment. she  knew  these  streets,  and  she  felt  so  damn  embarrassed  that  she  had  still  done  this,  especially  once  she  looked  around  and  saw  she  wasn’t  the  only  person  who  had  witnessed  the  accident. johanna  scrambled  to  take  her  skates  off,  not  even  bothering  to  reach  into  her  bag  for  her  converse  afterwards;  her  socks  would  end  the  day  dirtier  than  they  had  ever  been,  but  they  were  low  priority  compared  to  the  bloody  knees  she  now  had. swallowing  thickly,  she  stood  from  her  spot,  shoving  the  skates  into  her  bag  that  only  just  had  room  for  them,  trying  to  not  let  the  moment  overwhelm  her. “it  looks  worse  than  it  is,  i  promise.”  she  told  the  eyes  that  met  hers,  not  wanting  a  fuss,  not  wanting  their  concern.

x

Karim was wearing his headphones in a strange lopsided fashion, such that one side rested behind rather than atop his left ear. While he had not abandoned his music completely, he had, at the very least, taken to maintaining a larger degree of awareness as he walked about town. Even now, on the other side of the whole affair, his own run-in with those terrorizing the town had left him conflicted. On one hand, he had walked away unscathed, not been a real target beyond helping a few others who had crossed his path that night. Maybe, just maybe, he had even been brave. And yet, once the adrenaline had passed, only a dismal, hollow feeling remained, as if his well-crafted bubble of safety had been completely popped. 

The sensation was made worse by its own existence, as if he, unharmed, alive, could not dare feel anything close to fear or guilt or sadness. And in the foggier corners of his mind, in the darkened crevices where thoughts flitted around unfettered like moths in the half-light, he could make out a shape almost like an hourglass, pouring away speck by speck. He had been lucky once. He would not been lucky again. 

He was caught in cloud of blaring disco music when Johanna fell only a short ways ahead of him. He waivered a moment, watching her as she went about pulling off her skates, and furrowing up his brow, Karim tugged the headphones down around his neck before walking closer. “Are you...uh, are ya sure? Looked sorta gnarly to me.” He bit his lip, seeming to redirect himself. “I mean, it woulda looked gnarly, if I had seen something. Which I didn’t, for the record if you didn’t want me to.” 

[thexkarimxdiaz]

acetonesx​:

location: art murmur

open to anyone [ @shrikestart​ ]

By some stupid mistake, Rosaline had ended up working all by herself for the last three hours of her shift, which also just so happened to be the time when all of Shrike decided to come in and buy their stupid erasers. If she had a choice, she would actually be working at Snapshot, but they had rejected her; this was as close to working with film as she would get, and the pay, at least, wasn’t so bad. It was enough to keep her comfortably in a small studio apartment, and when she had Jamie, she could buy him the toys he pointed at as they passed the windows of shops.

That was enough to keep her going like the energizer bunny, and with her arms laden with rolls of canvas, she bustled over to the corner of the shop to stack them in the shelf. “Be with you in a minute!” she called out, trying not to lose her balance as she reached to the higher shelf. “Fuck,” she mumbled, getting up on her tiptoes and just barely sliding it in. She turned. “Okay. I’m here.” 

x

Karim had just left his own shift early, only because no one was around to tell him not to. And really, Shrike Mall would hardly notice if perhaps the floors were less shiny or one trashcan had to sit overnight, he thought. With the way things were going these days, the whole place found itself torn apart on such a regular basis that he was finding difficulty working up a damn to give about the state of it. But this was a new bitterness, of course, a terse feeling deep in his stomach that had not existed prior to the events a few weeks prior. There had, at one time, been genuine pride in his work, a sensation that was fading now to make room for more dire emotions.

“Take yer time, yeah,” he replied lazily from his perch near the counter, resting his chin in his hand as he leaned atop its surface. He watched Rosaline for a moment, debating if he should make a move to try and help or at least serve as a landing pad. But opting not to move, he managed a smile when she returned. “Do you got, like, glow in the dark paint? I’m tryna be blue.” He held out his arms.