#SKETCH of my concept so much apparently that today he asked me if he could turn to me for commissions whenever he needs art for his shows

[endlessly-light]

SOMEONE WANTS TO PAY MEEEEEEE

[lnarizakis]

i found you! | b. koutarou

hey @bokutokoutarou ! you were my recipient for the summer exchange fic. i really hope you enjoy this, and that we can become friends after this!

pairing: bokuto koutarou x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

look out for: soulmate au, tooth-rottingly sweet fluff, pining

“...You’re hearing voices in your head?”

“No, no, there’s just one... and they keep going on and on ‘bout whatever! And it sounds like they’re trying to talk to me, too, and I’m getting a little scared!” Bokuto complained to his junior, Akaashi, about this voice he had been hearing in his mind for the past week. It was unrecognizable at first; he paid no attention to it, but throughout the course of the week the voice had been growing louder and louder. It slowly became unnerving for the ace.

“Oh, I see,” Akaashi glanced outside the window. He then turned back towards Bokuto, face still in evident distress. “It’s your soulmate.”

“My... my what?” Bokuto was appalled. His soulmate?

Akaashi, too, was appalled. “Have your parents never told you about what a soulmate is?” Bokuto shook his head, signaling a negative response. Akaashi widened his eyes in apparent shock.

“Wow.” Akaashi was rendered speechless. Looks like he’d have to tell Bokuto what a soulmate was. “Well, a soulmate is someone you’re destined to be with. You’re bound to them for life. Everyone is bound to their soulmates in different ways. In your case, Bokuto-san, you can hear your soulmate’s thoughts.” The setter glances down at the timer on his wrists. Still several more years before he could meet his own soulmate.

Bokuto “ohh”ed in realization. He then pulled a face, one that Akaashi knew all too well. It was his thinking face, usually worn by the former during their volleyball games. He stayed in that position for some time, until his face lit up with excitement.

“Ah! Akaashi, I did it! I talked to her!” Bokuto exclaimed. Akaashi gave him a small smile, proud of his upperclassman.

O N E .

“Oh no, a quiz?! We have a quiz today?! I didn’t study for it at all!”

Bokuto panicked. He sat at his desk, sweat forming on his forehead. He was so afraid for this quiz specifically, because if he were to fail it, God forbid, he most definitely would not be able to take part in the Spring Interhigh Tournament. His mind raced with the same thought over and over again. In the heat of the moment, he hadn’t realized that he was pounding his soulmate’s head with the thought.

(Y/N) was currently in class (and conveniently just a couple classrooms down), trying her best to focus on the lecture in front of her. But it was difficult. So, extremely difficult.

“Could you please, with all due respect, shut up? I’m trying to learn right now,” she communicated to Bokuto. In an attempt to make peace with him, she added on, “Good luck, though.” At that moment, Bokuto came up with the best idea.

“Wait a minute. Do you think you could help me?” Bokuto’s heart raced. Depending on his soulmate’s answer, he may or may not be able to attend the tournament.

“Sure, I guess. What is it on?” (Y/N) gave up on trying to listen to her teacher, who was droning on about a topic that was completely unrelated to the lecture. It looked like she would have to do extra studying after school. Oh, the things she would do for her soulmate.

“Classic literature. It’s my worst subject!” If it was possible to whine and complain in one’s thoughts, Bokuto was doing exactly that. (Y/N) couldn’t help but smirk a little bit. With the willpower she had, she was able to contain her chuckle.

“Alright, I’ll help you; I think I’m alright in that subject.”

—

“So, how’d you do?” (Y/N) asked him a couple days later. The substitute for her class was running late, so she made use of her free time by talking to her supposedly-unknown soulmate. She looked down at her notebook that she had taken out, sketching rough, small portraits of what she thought her soulmate looked like.

“My teacher’s handing them out right now,” Bokuto replied. Through his thoughts somehow, (Y/N) could identify the worry laced in his thought. There was a hint of confidence, however, since the answers that his soulmate provided him seemed right. At least right enough to turn in his quiz with some confidence.

After a string of “Oh, no”s, Bokuto rejoiced. Thanks to his soulmate, he was able to participate in the Spring Interhigh Tournament!

“I’m so glad I was able to help you!” Despite not knowing who in the world her soulmate was, she couldn’t stop smiling. There was a little bit of a hint she learned about him too— he played volleyball.

T W O .

In the time that (Y/N) got to know her soulmate, she learned how comforting he can be at times. Despite how he came across as an idiot at times, he was perhaps the one person she could talk to whenever she needed comfort. His simple words were enough for her.

One night, (Y/N) found herself staring at the ceiling of her bedroom. She couldn’t sleep. No matter how much she tossed and turned, or set the right conditions for maximum comfort for sleeping, she just couldn’t go to sleep. It was like the universe was keeping her awake. And for what?

The thoughts of not being able to sleep swirled around in her mind, and soon enough, Bokuto asked her if there was something wrong. She replied that it was no big deal, and that he shouldn’t worry much about it. Despite this, Bokuto insisted for her to confide in him. And so she did.

“I’m not too fond of the idea of soulmates. I really hate to tell you this, but I just... I don’t want to be destined to be with someone, you know?” It pained her to tell this boy, and she could tell it pained him, as well.

Bokuto, who had been awake for quite some time as well, lay in bed with a blank stare. He looked all around his room, trying to find at least some answer to her thoughts. (Y/N) had more to say, however.

“...And I don’t even know who you are. I mean, I know some things about you, but I don’t know-know you. I don’t know your name, or what school you go to, or what you would like to do after you graduate high school, or—“

“Bokuto Koutarou— that’s my name. You don’t have to tell me yours if you don’t want to. But... that’s something about me. To help you get to know-know me. And I go to Fukurodani High School. And I think I’m gonna continue volleyball after high school... Is there anything else you want to know about me?” Bokuto interrupted (Y/N)’s train of thought. He began to open himself up to his soulmate so that she would be able to open herself up to at least the mere concept of soulmates. It would take a bit more time, he thought, before she would want to begin to open herself up to him.

“Okay, well,” (Y/N) began, “Tell me what’s the first thing you do when you wake up, and the last thing you do before you go to sleep.” She giggled; she was curious to know what he’d say.

To hum in his thoughts was something typical of Bokuto, and he did just that: “Hm, I think the first thing I do when I wake up is... I mean, after I open my eyes, is jump outta bed! And the last thing I do before I go to sleep is...” He hummed again, “close my eyes. And then I think a ‘lil bit. About everything, really! Sometimes I begin to dream about my soulmate... you, and what you look like, and when we’ll meet, and how we’ll meet, too, and—“ Bokuto exhaled out loud. He’d love to meet his soulmate one day.

“Well, thank you, Bokuto-san. Hopefully we’ll meet someday. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Good night,” (Y/N) told him as she dozed off to sleep.

Bokuto Koutarou, huh...

T H R E E .

“Favorite color?”

“I’d say gold! The color of my eyes!”

Another boring lecture meant another day of playing 20 Questions with Bokuto for (Y/N). She had just asked her seventh question, which, along with the past six questions, had been entirely superficial. However, they weren’t quite as ridiculous as the questions he had asked her.

Case in point: “What are you going to have for lunch today?” He asked. Without context, it probably would have been pretty ridiculous to ask that, but given that lunch followed after the current period and that Bokuto was insanely hungry, it seemed probably reasonable to ask that question.

“I think I’m going to have what they’re selling today in the cafeteria,” (Y/N) pondered. Though, she was probably going to stick with her usual whatever’s-available-in-the-vending-machine. She looked down at her notebook, doodling a very rough image of the volleyball ace that everyone at school knew.

Ever since that one night—that night when she couldn’t go to sleep for the life of her, she had been in utter shock at the fact that Bokuto Koutarou was her soulmate. Everyone knew about him— from how he’s absolutely impressive at pretty much every sport he played to his overwhelming presence that made the general atmosphere of wherever he was so much lighter. He was like a light in her eyes, but he didn’t know who she was at all.

“Can I go again? It’ll count for my next question,” Bokuto asked. (Y/N) complied, and he followed her response with “You don’t think I know who you are?”

So she was thinking out loud. “I mean, you know me only because we’re soulmates. Other than that, I don’t think you know anything else about me—“

“My next question! What makes you think I don’t know anything about you?” Bokuto asked again.

“I mean—“

“I know that you’re my soulmate, which means you’re the one for me! I’m supposed to help you. With everything,” Bokuto continued, “because you’re my everything.”

(Y/N) looked down in embarrassment, her face turning red.

“You’re embarrassing,” she thought. “Don’t you realize what you’re saying right now?”

From Bokuto’s classroom, all he could do was smile softly. “I don’t realize most things I say,” He jokingly stated. His own embarrassment started to creep up on him, making him begin to regret what he said, or thought, to his soulmate. “Sorry if it bothered you, or something.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it; let’s just keep playing,” (Y/N) responded, guilt weighing down on her for unintentionally shaming him for his embarrassing words. “It’s my turn now. Let’s see... what position do you play in volleyball?”

Bokuto’s mood instantly lightened as he proudly answered, “I’m a wing spiker! The ace!”

—

Several questions later, it was once again Bokuto’s turn. He was on his nineteenth question when he asked (Y/N), “Do you think there’s ever a chance I could show you a soulmate’s really worth it?”

“Bokuto, I—“

“My last question— my twentieth question. Can you give me the chance to show you why soulmates are destined for a reason?”

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment before she said, “... Okay.”

F O U R .

“Huh?! You’re still awake at this hour? I just woke up!”

Bokuto had jumped out of bed to begin his morning run. As he was changing from his sleepwear to something new for running outside, he heard muttering similar to white noise in his mind, which meant that his soulmate was awake and, somehow, barely thinking.

(Y/N), having been restless the entire evening, decided it would be a good idea to pull an all-nighter. Currently, she was lying in bed, watching the sun peek out through the blinds of her window. The brightness illuminated her once-dark room, and she felt a wave of guilt wash over her for not properly taking care of her body by sleeping.

“I’ve been awake. What are you doing right now? At five in the morning?” (Y/N) snapped back. The tiredness was getting to her.

“I’m about to go on my morning run! Now, what are you doing?” Bokuto replied. He was so genuinely curious to know what his soulmate was doing at this time, why she was up and awake, before he noticed that he disregarded the harsh and tired tone she used on him.

“All-nighter. Couldn’t sleep at all.”

“Oh! My friend Akaashi pulls those all the time. He’s always tired, just like you are right now!” Bokuto beamed, hoping to get at least some positive reaction out of her. But all he got was a dry laugh—if it was even possible to laugh in one’s mind— along with an obviously sarcastic “thank you, I know I’m tired right now.”

“Well, since you’re awake right now,” Bokuto continued, “why don’t you talk to me? I’d rather listen to you instead of my music.” To his surprise, (Y/N) complied, but, as she claimed, the only reasons she had were that she was tired and had nothing else to do.

—

After a conversation about Bokuto’s favorite kinds of breakfast foods followed by the sports that (Y/N) enjoys watching, the ace took a rest, sitting down underneath a tree in a park near their school, watching the sun paint the sky different shades of purple and red.

“Hm, I have a question for you. Why are you so adamant about wanting to show me the wonders of a soulmate? I mean—without me in your life, you’re pretty much free to fall in love with whomever you want,” (Y/N) spoke truthfully. Her question made Bokuto raise an eyebrow, but mostly because of the large words she used in phrasing it.

“... What does ‘adamant’ mean?” was all he could say. From the comforts of her bedroom, (Y/N) laughed heartily. The thoughts that came with her laugh were positive, as she commended Bokuto on saying the first thing that made her smile that day. She soon let him know what it meant, though, and Bokuto “ooh”ed in his mind, earning another laugh from (Y/N).

“Soulmate,” Bokuto called her this since she still never told him her name, “my friend Akaashi said that we’re soulmates because we’re bound together. There’s gotta be a reason why we’re bound together, right? Why our souls are destined to be with each other, right? Or else we’d just be... mates, and not soul-mates.”

“...I see.”

“And...I got nothing.”

“Bokuto, why don’t you try finding me?” (Y/N) suggested. “If you’re so adamant about the fact that because we’re soulmates means our souls are bound together—that our souls are destined to be together—you should easily find your way to me, right?”

Bokuto stayed silent.

“Look, this is what I’m saying. Why don’t you act on your belief? Find me, and if you do, I’ll know that our souls are not meant to be apart.”

(Y/N)’s soulmate remained silent for some time before he responded.

“I’m going to find you, soulmate. I’m going to find you one day!”

F I V E .

She stared blankly at the vending machine in front of her. She tried not to reveal that she was currently thinking about whether to choose between strawberry or banana milk, so as not to reveal her location, if Bokuto were to find out she went to Fukurodani High School. Little did she know that he had a bit of help from his volleyball teammates in deciphering who exactly she was.

—

��What’d she think now?!”

“Ah! Uh, she doesn’t know if she wants strawberry or banana milk!” Bokuto exclaimed. The Fukurodani third-years, along with Akaashi, were gathered around Bokuto’s desk. On top of it was a notebook, opened to a half-covered page of scatter-brained notes of his soulmate’s thoughts.

Konoha hummed, and placed a hand on his chin. “Okay, from that we know that she’s also out at lunch. Maybe she goes here!” In Akaashi’s mind, he thought that it was awfully quick (and definitely extremely convenient) to assume that she goes here, but he did not express this disagreement of his.

Bokuto agreed with his logic, and in the notebook he wrote, “Probably goes to Fukurodani.”

“Does she have any new thoughts, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi spoke up.

“Um, yeah. Okay, uh, she’s thinking about who to eat with,” Bokuto replied. He picked up the pencil he dropped from excitement, and began to write down keywords from her thoughts. Sarukui looked on, noticing that Bokuto was writing the names he recognized.

“Bokuto, you wrote down Suzumeda-san’s name!” He called out. The ace leaned back to look at what he had written down, and sure enough, he had written one of the two managers of his club’s names down.

“She goes here!” Everyone in the huddle exclaimed. Bokuto’s other classmates who were also in the classroom slowly turned around in questioning curiosity, wondering what in the world they were doing.

“Bokuto-san! I think you should just go look for her. What was it that you said again...?” Akaashi questioned him.

Bokuto stared blankly at Akaashi for a brief second to recollect his thoughts from the recent shock, and soon after he came to his senses he responded that his soulmate said that if soulmates really are destined to be together, he should go look for her. With that in mind, his teammates ushered Bokuto out of the room and cheered him on to go find his soulmate.

Adrenaline rushed through Bokuto as he was pressured by his teammates to go find his soulmate. He was going to meet her today!

He dashed down the third-years’ hallway to go outside, nearing the closest vending machine. For a moment he pressed his face against the clear glass, to check the contents of the machine. He could see a row of strawberry milk boxes and next to it a row of banana milk boxes. Gears inside had ceased whirring, signaling to Bokuto that someone had just used the vending machine.

Bokuto’s heart stirred, and instinct told him to run out into the courtyard. Following his instinct, he sped out of the hallway in which the vending machine was, and opened the door that led to the courtyard. He had opened them so quickly that he didn’t see the figure of a girl in his year on the other side about to open the door, despite the large window in front of him that made up a huge component of the door’s upper half.

He walked straight into the girl, and the sudden shock pulled them back, to see who they had run into.

“He actually... He found me!”

“I found you!”

[parcy-anda]

I adore the idea of Ruv & Sarv together both platonically and romantically,  and that goes double for Whitty & Carol, but I’m also a piece-of-trash multi-shipper with a strong lean towards fluff.

Heads up: no ideas are my own — the inspiration came from  this. >v<; I just wanted to shake off some dust and enjoy what I thought was a sweet concept.

My silly rambles are below the cut if you’re interested, but I’m super awkward and will go hide now.

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I was a bit conflicted about posting art of these two, as from what I’ve read, drama following the mods ruined these guys+ for their respective creators but I keep up on some tags out of curiosity, and seeing the post linked above made me want to try something that condensed most of their ideas. I'm a sucker for anything soft and wholesome.

While I did visual research for the characters, dinghies and an intentional + aesthetically-appropriate design for Ruv based on a few species of cold-water [comb] jellies, I had no idea/was-too-stubborn-to-further-research how to draw [jellyfish] sirens or how to handle the lighting effects for a pic like this — and it shows.

Finally: GEEBUS, I don’t know if this is even worth sharing, but as prep, I did sketch a rough concept of siren!Ruv based on visual research. I have no idea if I’ll try to polish this concept, as while Jellies are often inherently frilly, it seems painfully out-of-place for him. @v@

Update: I wrote a silly ficlet to follow up this pic. I’ll hide it here, rather than put it on display in a fresh post. =v=; Apologies for address-repetition, rambling, and the obliviousness trope but if anyone actually likes it, sweetness.

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Whitty kept his eyes on the stars, of which there was no shortage out here. Beyond the light, passing swells, he'd heard the gentle splashing against the boat, and felt something slippery and mitten-like wrap around his shoe. His foot twitched, but he didn't pull away. He knew who it was; after, all, they'd agreed to meet here... in this general area. The open ocean provided few landmarks, but they'd settled on a few miles northeast of the dock Whitty always started from.

It was still really, really strange. He was getting better about trusting the siren, but jellyfish are jellyfish, and he was in no hurry to be stung, accidentally or otherwise. Without moving, he chanced a glimpse to the other end of the boat — Ruv was looking down at something. The sentient bomb heard a gravelly shift — oh... more "treasures".

Lately, the gelatinous merman had been in the odd habit of bringing stones and coral fragments with him, and this time, he'd brought a bucketful. Whitty stifled a hissing chuckle at what he could now tell was bright green plastic. Ruv must have taken some child's beach toy from somewhere. The only thing he didn't really get was why.

Ruv wasn't much of a talker, and was stone-faced as they came. All the bomb-man could tell was that the siren seemed to bring these things for him... and the slight glow of his bioluminescence flared every time Whitty looked at him or said so much as a word. And today, he was ALIGHT. Whitty tensed as he felt Ruv squeeze his shoe tighter... was this in his head, or did the siren look nervous?

Carefully, Ruv lifted the bucket out of the water completely, over the edge and placed it squarely on the floor of the dinghy by Whitty's outstretched leg... and stared. At Whitty. In the glowing, ember-y eyes. Inky drops of "sweat" seeped through the sphere of his head and dripped back down to the fuse... an anxious laugh tumbled between his teeth set in a forced smile.

"Thanks, man." He finally managed to say, glancing briefly at the bucket before looking back at Ruv, who hadn't moved, save for the lightest lapping  against the underside of the boat, to keep his balance and place. Whitty usually didn't mind the stargazing, but then, it had never been this quiet or... intensely awkward. You're making it weird, man. Whitty thought to himself worriedly, but gave it a few seconds.

Things did not get better. Silent as before, Ruv's behaviour drastically shifted once more. The glow faded, he sank out of Whitty's view, and the grip on his shoe loosened before disappearing completely. Just slightly alarmed, Whitty planted most of his weight in the middle of the small boat, before stretching his neck to look out over the edge — the siren was still there, face half-submerged and, by the angle of the lone, now-barely luminous eye, not quite facing the boat. With just a crescent moon to light the seascape, Whitty was relieved to see anything... if the glow had wholly vanished, he would have been impossible to distinguish from the water.

"... what did I do, now?" Whitty sighed, trying not to sound too annoyed. He was certainly intrigued by the merman, he wouldn't keep coming back to visit otherwise. They could probably be really good friends if Ruv would actually communicate. But he didn't. He always kept Whitty wondering, and the bomb hated that. He hated not knowing what to expect.

When Ruv stayed silent and with his back to the dinghy, Whitty huffed quietly and turned his attention to the bucket. It was quite the assortment, this time. Some where rough, some smooth, some glossy, some blue, some... very, very round. He picked up that oddball, and his eyes widened as he realized what it was. It was a pearl, a black one, and a pretty good size.

"Okay, w-why? Why do you keep bringing me stuff like this?" He sputtered, holding up the pearl and bucket. He'd tried asking questions before, but seldom got normal or satisfactory answers. He hoped this time would be different.

He got a reaction, at least: he caught the eye angling slightly back toward him, and a flicker of light returning. He could have sworn he saw the mouth twitch, though mostly into a frown. When Ruv's hands weighed delicately on the top of the stern, Whitty sat back in an effort to keep the boat level. Taking in what body language he could, Whitty saw now, just how tired Ruv appeared to be, as if it was all he could do to keep his one eye open. With a sense of urgency, Whitty dragged himself back to reality, gesturing emphatically as he asked again: "Why? What's this for? Use your words, man."

Immediately, Ruv's eye narrowed and his slight frown deepened, prompting a small flinch from the bomb. Whitty was fully expecting to be stung, and braced himself for it, eyes closed. He nearly jumped out of his skin when instead, he heard a THUD against the dinghy's edge. Then again, and again. Opening his eyes, he saw Ruv repeatedly, quite deliberately, throwing his forehead into the side of the boat. Apparently, he was frustrated, too.

Whitty was about to tell the siren to cut it out when it suddenly stopped. Ruv's head was now set still against the stern, shoulders rising, then falling in a quiet sigh, before he rested his chin on the rim between his hands. The face Whitty took for 'tired' before now simply looked defeated. The bomb-headed young man refrained from saying anything, realizing words were only flustering the merman, but he knew Ruv could talk. They'd talked before... mostly Ruv just said he wasn't going to sting Whitty, but still, Ruv had spoken. There was no point in acting like he couldn't.

So lost was he in his thoughts, he'd hardly noticed himself nearing the boat's edge. For a moment, he thought he'd leaned in on his own, as if to listen closely for an answer, but... no. The movement had been completely subconscious. Oh, f- this isn't some legit-siren shit Ruv's pulling, right? Probably not, hopefully not. I mean, I'm definitely in control of my thoughts. He was snapped out of those thoughts by another sigh from Ruv, even though he had yet to say a word.

Silently, Ruv took the pearl and held it up between his and Whitty's faces — he should get that, right? Looking around it, Whitty's face proved puzzled still. Agitated, Ruv snatched a piece of volcanic glass he'd found from the bucket, placing it over Whitty's hand and wrapping his own over both, before expectantly looking back up to his land-dwelling friend's face. That nervous smile was back, and Whitty had to laugh off the awkwardness while he searched for the words.

"Aha...ha... this stuff looks... kind of like me?" He asked more than said, glancing a few times between the contents of the bucket and Ruv — there were a number of articles reminiscent of his clothing and skin's colors, not to mention textures. Whitty's heart spasmed violently at the way Ruv's face quite literally lit up. Reluctantly, he spun his free hand in a wheeling motion, continuing, "... which means...?" The glow flickered, but remained and Whitty thought he saw Ruv's eye twitch. The bomb grimaced before trying to intuit the meaning behind this, "Yes, please! Spell it out!" It was weird as hell, but he needed to know what it meant, and it was high time Ruv just gave him a straight answer.

Mista-BIG MISTAKE. — was the only coherent thought Whitty managed, as for a moment, all his senses could register was a splash and icy water enveloping him face-first. He'd been hauled from the boat and into the dark, frigid ocean. On instinct, he struggled, panicked against the feeling of cold seeping into him, and he gasped the second he felt air on his face. He took a second to process what was happening now:

He was breathing, his head was back above water... he was... not being strangled, even though it felt terrifyingly similar. Ruv was thoroughly wrapped around him, his face pressed into the bomb's neck and... nuzzling? It made Whitty squirm at first, it really was a bit of a disturbing sensation, but then suddenly, he stiffened and warmed all over as a blush spilled across his face and the realization dawned on him. If the siren hadn't been keeping him afloat, he'd have sunk for lack of movement. He was frozen in an entirely different sense now.

[creativeashproductions]

Instant Connection // Male!reader x Alex

Summary: Reader finds the blonde-haired drummer from the surprise performance at the spirit rally to be cute. So cute he gained your full attention at a school function you could barely tolerate, especially when Carrie and her clones performed some over the top number.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, this is a male!reader

Words: 1.3k

Pairing: male!reader x Alex (JATP)

A/N: For all the guys that don’t get represented enough in fandoms. I really hope I did this justice and didn’t insult anyone because that wasn’t my intention.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

Blasting music from your phone bought with the hard-earned money you sketched out a new season concept. Feet kicked up on the bench your focus on your hand smoothing over the paper in the latest sketchbook. Music was as loud as it could be to block out another performance by Carrie and the Mimics or whatever they were called. A tap on your shoulder brought your attention to one of your best friends, Nick.

“Hey, man. Guys are meeting up after school?” Nick spoke leaning down from his bench level, “I know it’s been weird with your switching to baseball but-“

“Don’t you have a new leash to pick out with Carrie? You should get pink to make her pop culture rip off.” You spoke, pushing one hand through your short locks of hair settling your gaze on Nick, “Besides Jason just doesn’t like that I’m into guys.”

Jason was a close-minded pig that had harassed you after seeing you miss another guy like it wasn’t 2020. You didn’t regret leaving the lacrosse team other than losing time with your best friend. Nick was by far the most accepting out of everyone.

“What did you think?” The bubbly tone asked, leading you to see that Carrie had snuck into the general vicinity of you. You had nothing really against the girl, you were flattered when she had pursued you romantically before clicking with Nick, “Hey Y/N.”

“Carrie.” You spoke, placing your art tools into the opened backpack at your feet. Climbing to your full height, you started out the door with the bag slung over your shoulder.

You were halfway to the door when the keyboard came to life on stage, unexpectedly causing some students to slow their movements. Turning to the stage, there was a girl nervously sitting scanning the room. Julie Molina was a childhood friend with a passion for music, although it was locked away after she lost her mother.

“C’mon Julie.” You breathed stepping closer to the stage just as she gained the confidence to play. The pride was growing, but It altered with the sudden appearance of three very attractive guys playing alongside her.

“Whoa.” Nick spoke, stepping up beside you in complete surprise, “Julie’s playing again.”

You mutely replied, meeting the gaze of the blonde-haired drummer having the time of his life with energy so breathtaking. God, you had a thing for blonde guys. The drummer met your gaze with an electric gaze that you swore caused goosebumps.

“Of course it’s the blonde guy.” Nick snickered shoving his shoulder against your side as you were taller than the lacrosse player. The entire school crowded around the stage as everyone lit up more than they had in years. Music wasn’t like this anymore, and you actually enjoyed it.

“Damn they are good.” You breathed scanning the three guys boosting Julie into performing, “It’s about time.”

Nick nodded, “It’s nice to see she’s getting back to normal.”

“Go, Julie!” You shouted with cupped hands earning a surprised look from the Latina girl having the time of her life on stage. Julie hadn’t realized how much she missed performing until this moment where everyone connected to the music.

You, like everyone else, gasped when Julie walked right through the guy in the cutoff muscle tee with the arms of Adonis. Yet no matter how attractive the guitar players were, you couldn’t help but gaze at the blonde.

“What the hell?” Carrie’s preppy voice demanded with her closest backup dancer right beside her enjoying the show more than Carrie.

“Just let it go for now.” You told the dirty blonde haired girl pleading she let the moment be precisely how it should be. Not stained with jealous, toxic and pitiful feelings as it had also been with Carrie on the subject of Julie Molina.

“Seriously? Y/N, you’re my friend! My best guy friend! You should be on my side!” Carrie demanded crossing her arms as the song started to come to an end.

“Uh, no. I’m Nick’s friend, and you happen to be part of the package.” You snorted crossing your arms stretching the denim jacket with some paint marks. You found Carrie to be amusing but over the topmost of the time.

Ignoring the scoffs and words from the popular Wilson you took in the last bit of the song before they bowed and the band disappeared. Your eyebrows raised as the startled expression of Julie’s face while the school whispered among itself.

“Holograms?” Nick spoke, shaking his head as he joined his lacrosse friends in heading to the hallways of the school.

Catching the tail end of Julie getting back into the program, you waited for her, “Congratulations, Julie.”

“Thanks Y/N.” Julie murmured with a content smile that slowly faded as Flynn came into her view, wearing a sullen expression. Reading the room, you fled to your math class across the school, leaving the best friends alone.

Around the corner you found three guys lounging, guys from the performance which was odd given they were supposedly holograms. You could confront them, but if you were late Mr. Bryan would have your head, so you pushed it to the backburner.

“Stupid fucking calculus,” You muttered walking around the trio barely looking at them on your walk. Your shoes slapping the linoleum flooring the cool janitor had freshly waxed before the school year; he was a tap dancer too.

You could, however, feel the gaze on your retreating back.

“He was eyeing you up.” Reggie poked Alex as they watched you turn a corner from their view. Alex jolted out of his thoughts with a faint blush and feeling awkward that Luke had seen that.

“Oh shut up.” Alex rolled his eyes glancing to where you had left his view. Luke had a smile at the apparent crush Alex had on a guy in a denim jacket with paint splatter, “I’m dead. He’s not.”

“He might be dead inside.” Reggie supplied earning deadpan looks from his bandmates already done with his jokes, “Okay time to shut up.”

Even as Julie came around the corner startled at the sight of them as usual, you couldn’t leave the blonde drummer’s head.

Alex was excited with the new revelation in his life following playing The Orpheum; they were taking a small break. Julie and Luke were still writing songs, but Alex was exploring the city. He was humming when he bumped into a person. Standing close to his height was you. A guy that made his heart flutter and his palms sweat; it wasn’t like this at the beginning with Luke.

“Hey Alex.” You grinned amusedly as his cheeks matched the pink shirt he wore, “I was wondering when I would get to see you again.”

“Uh…you wanted…to see me?” Alex stuttered blinking at your sentence taken aback at the straightforwardness you had.

“It’s that not okay?” You trailed off. Your eyes then widened, “Oh god, you aren’t gay, are you.”

“No! Gay! Me!” Alex practically shouted frantically shaking his head further embarrassing himself in front of the way he was almost in love with as this point. You thought it was adorable, “I mean, yes, I am gay.”

“Cool. Wanna go out sometime?” You questioned nerves coating the sentence as you waited to hear his response. The adorable, shy smile appearing on the blonde drummer’s face before he hesitantly grabbed your hand.

“How about now?”

“I’d love to.” You replied tugging him after you with your hands intertwined just as much as your hearts were starting to. Alex would figure out a way to tell you about the whole ghost thing, but for today he wanted to be a regular guy on a date with a cool dude with a paint-splattered denim jacket.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED!)

I’m just tagging those who asked to be for Luke just to get this out there since there is no little fics for Alex 🥺

@safehavenmuse​ @siennanoelle01​ @whiterose291​ @mell-bell​ @blackhood5sos​ @ficrecsideblog​ @ifilwtmfc​ @deadpoolgirl23​ @crappy-unicorn​ @sunsetcurve-h​@elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals​ @popcrone818​ @lolychu​ @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit​ @just-a-writer-here​ @simp4reggie​

[multi-fandom-crossover-bitch]

Out of Central City and into Camelot

A normal day. Why is that such a hard concept to grasp? All I wanted was to grab a load of snacks before I holed up in my room for the day but noooooo. Cisco wants to go to a renaissance fair. I thought 'sure, Cisco never asks to hang out so why not. I'll do the lazy thing tomorrow.' Apparently Cisco thought today was prank (Y/N) day and I wasn't even aware of this, so imagine my surprise when I show up to Cisco's house in my medieval gown that I had hurriedly purchased barely enduring the odd looks thrown my way without snapping only to find that Cisco without his his god damn medieval attire grinning like the Cheshire Cat ushering me inside.

"Heyyyyyy. It's my favorite Allen." Cisco suspiciously drawled "so, you know how your always talking about how you would absolutely die if Merlin was a real person you could meet"

"I've literally never said that. Cisco why'd you call me here?"

"Wait here, I wanna show you something" I walked over to Cisco's desk and admired all his sketches for inventions before a list caught my eye I picked it up to read it's contents only to see the title : Ideas to Prank (Y/N) and on the bottom was scribbled 'Send her to Camelot' I put the list down before calling out to Cisco

"Ya know what Cisco? I think I'm just gonna go home I'm not feeling so well right now" but before I could make my way to the door I heard footsteps and a faint "see you later (Y/N)" before the hum of machine took over and the next thing I know I'm sent tumbling through a forest in the middle of nowhere. no, not nowhere... Camelot After stopping I lay for a bit before hearing leaves crunching to the side of me. I quickly get up and rush towards the footsteps. I stop after my foot gets caught on a tree branch and I I literally fall at the footsteps of a young man with dark hair and blue eyes.

"Oh my, are you all right there?" The young man questions as he bend over to give me a hand up

"Besides embarrassingly falling in front of a handsome man such as yourself? I'll be fine." I grin at the man

"Me? Handsome? I doubt that very much. I'm Merlin by the way." I freeze at the name before numbly sticking out my hand for him to shake only for him to kiss the back of it instead leaving me a blushing mess

"Might I know the name of the woman who quite literally fell for me just now?"

"M-my name is (Y/N)."

**Meanwhile in Central City**

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHES IN CAMELOT?" Barry roared at his best friend

"Well, when I made the machine I didn't think it would take me as far as Camelot but I tried it on myself and next thing I know BOOM I'm meeting Morgana on a hot summer's medieval evening. Who, by the way, is a lot nic-" Cisco's ramblings we're cut off by an infuriated Barry

"I DONT CARE IF YOU MET MERLIN HIS GOD DAMN SELF!!" Barry took a deep breath before continuing in a deadly calm voice "Do you realize that you sent my 18 year old little sister into an unfamiliar place by herself without back up?

"Ok ok ok. Do you wanna go after her? I can send you in after her." Barry sent Cisco a deadpan look to which Cisco sighed "I guess we're both going in after her." And got the machine ready and in a flash of yellow. They were off to Camelot

[wonkastarshine]

Soooooo... I wasn’t sure when I was going to share this, but I’m just feeling very emotional towards this event today, so I think this is a good day to talk about it.

I’ve met Tim Burton.

That is me in the all black ensemble in front of him, at the bottom of this very long story. I met him on January 21st this year at his exhibition at the Neon Museum in Las Vegas. The second I found out that Tim was coming to Las Vegas, I cried so hard. This was finally my opportunity to meet the man that has shaped my whole life. But when I went online to secure a ticket for the book signing, they were sold out. I was devastated, and in a desperate plea, I called the museum and asked if they were COMPLETELY sold out. They said ‘yes, we are, but there will be a stand-in line.”

And the clouds lifted.

This was a risky trip. I would be ditching three of my classes to spend a day driving to Las Vegas and then driving back immediately afterwards. I live about 5 hours from Vegas. The stand-in line started at 10am. I planned to leave at exactly 5am and get in line as early as possible. I planned my outfit, my hair, exactly which book I was going to buy for him to sign, and how much I would need to put aside for gas money. It was all put into place.

Now, to convince Mom to let me go...

I wrote out a whole speech (a la Wonka cue card style) and read it out loud to her. I had lost so much sleep over the fear of her rejection, and the agony of knowing that I had a shot and it just slipped from my fingers. My mom’s biggest worry was that I would drive all the way, stand hours in line and have Tim say, “Sorry, I’m not going to sign any more.” But I told her, “I would rather go and be turned away, then to never know whether I would’ve been accepted or not.”

Mom wasn’t happy, but ultimately gave her blessing for me to drive solo(!) to Las Vegas. Gosh, even just writing about it now gives me such butterflies! I woke up at 4:30 and was out of the house by 5:30, as I had to wait for some fog to clear up. I was on my way, with Danny Elfman’s music to be my friend for the long drive. The drive was fairly empty. I went over the Tehachapi mountains just as the sun was rising. It was sooooo beautiful, with all of its purples, pinks and oranges. “Everyday” by Buddy Holly, from Big Fish was playing and it just completely summed up how I was feeling. This was my moment. From the second I laid eyes on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory at age 4, Tim Burton forever changed my life. And now it was going to be time to thank him.

I arrived at the museum and to my surprise, the stand-in line was maybe 15 people maximum. The 400 people who got tickets previously were all in attendance. I breathed a sigh of relief and ate a snack while reading a book. The employees of the museum were so nice and always willing to answer our questions. One even said, “Tim loves his fans. He’s very grateful for all of you. I have no doubt he will sign for everyone.” So, the waiting began. I had arrived at about 10:30 or so and the signing would not start until 2pm. It wasn’t until around 2:30 or so that we were informed that those in the stand in line were definitely getting our books signed.

Y’all let me tell you, I almost died right there on the spot.

And I was internally panicking so much because I hadn’t allowed myself to plan what I was going to say to him, in the event I didn’t get to meet him. But it was real now and the gears were turning. I bought The Art of Tim Burton book from the stand and quickly joined the queue, which was moving rapidly. He was a fast signer, apparently. The employees told us we could pick ANY page we wanted him to sign and he would sign it. The gears turned even more. ANY PAGE?? Holy cow, what would I pick? Wonka, Edward, Catwoman, personal sketches of him and Helena?? I was so torn. I loved the concept sketch of Wonka, but there was some text at the bottom of it, and I kinda just wanted his signature to be alone with a drawing. I wanted to pick something that uniquely represented Tim, one drawing that completely encapsulated what his art is, what his art means and expresses.

And the lowly first sketch of Edward Scissorhands that he drew in high school was perfect. 100% Tim Burton.

The queue was getting shorter and shorter, and I realized that I was silly getting to think that Burton would want to really be having conversations with people. A self proclaimed introvert definitely would not want to talk to over 500 people in a day! So, I decided on one line. As soon as I turned the corner and I saw that tangled mess of black hair, those polarized glasses he never goes without, my heart completely dropped and burst with nerves. It was really Tim Burton, Tim Fucking Burton, sitting right there. The man responsible for creating my childhood: Willy Wonka, Edward Scissorhands, Corpse Bride, Nightmare Before Christmas, Batman Returns. It just seemed so surreal. I handed my phone to the nice lady behind me in line, who I casually held small talk with throughout the day. She was more than happy to take pictures of me with Burton.

He was moving fast! I barely got in front of him when he was already done signing it! I had to make my move. I stuck out my hand, waited until he shook it, made eye contact with me and I said, “Thank you so much for coming.” He smiled and I was quickly ushered away by the nice employees. It was perfect. No embarrassing blubbering or confessions. Just a handshake, a word of thanks and some smiles. I’m sitting here with tears in my eyes just typing this. I left the museum, and went to my car. I just stared at his autograph for the longest time. I called my mom and told her I made it and I met him. After I hung up, I sat quietly in car, silent, yet happy tears falling. Everything I’ve ever wanted to be, is because of Burton. My reason for wanting to become a film editor is because of Burton.

It was my honor and privilege to have met the genius. And I’m beyond grateful it happened before the entire world turned into a chaotic mess. Tim Burton has always been my rock in times of chaos. Today is no exception. What a day 🖤

[royalcordelia]

The Secret of Distance (1/?)

Summary: Anne and Gilbert embark on their journeys, but stay close to each other at heart. Courting across 1000 miles isn't easy, but they're more than willing to step up to the task. (A post s3 story).

Notes: I know starting another mc is not a healthy life choice, but I needed to write this story and I wanted it to have a bunch of chapters, so here it is! Enjoy!

~~*~~ 

There wasn’t much Anne could do except lay back on her unfamiliar bed at create constellations from the cracks in the ceiling. Her heart was so full in her chest that it weighed her down against her mattress, and she reveled in the feeling. Could a person die from so much happiness? Her mother’s book on the language of flowers laid against her breast right above her heart, and she swore its lingering traces of motherly love seeped into her skin like stale perfume in an empty bottle. 

 Diana’s quiet footsteps land in the doorway, but her beloved kindred spirit merely allowed Anne to exist in the quiet of the room. Anne’s happiness bled out of her like sun rays, and it was all Diana can do to keep looking at her.

Then, with the unexpected haste of a well cranked jack-in-the-box, Anne sat up in bed and gave Diana a stunned look.

“I want to hear the whole story,” Anne murmured, half-rushed, half dazed. “Whatever did you say to him?” 

Diana stepped into the room, admiring the cleanness of her bed across from Anne’s. She settled at the side of her best friend’s mattress and crinkled her eyebrows sheepishly.

“I might’ve read him the riot act after he told my father he wasn’t engaged,” Diana began. The guilt in her voice drained away and she grabbed Anne’s hand. “Dearest, he never received your letter. You should’ve seen his face when I told him there was one.” 

Anne’s jaw dropped. She stammered for words, “I...But I left it...How do you even miss a letter like that in broad daylight?” She blanched. Regret dripped into each of her words as she said, “Oh, I know exactly how. For instance, if a person where to, say,  tear up the letter before reading it and then throw it out her gable window…” Anne groaned. “What did it say!?” 

Diana, piecing together the rambles, grabbed Anne’s pen from her side table and handed it to her. 

“You can just ask him, you know.” 

Anne held the pen in her hand as if it were made of solid gold and jeweled with ancient crystals. For some reason the sight of it makes her remember him at her doorstep, chest heaving from running. His eyes had been filled with such overflowing devotion that Anne thought she’d drown the closer she grew to him, but there was no where else she wanted to be. The overwhelming feeling begins to fill her chest once more and she takes a deep breath.

“Are you scared of what he’ll say?” Diana questioned quietly. Shaking her head, Anne bit her lips and tried to remember the exact feeling of when Gilbert had kissed her.

“No, something tells me that anything he has to say will be such wonderful poetry.”

“Gilbert isn’t very poetic.” 

“On the contrary, dearest Diana, there is always something inherently poetic when a man reveals to you the contents of his heart.” 

Diana grabbed one of Anne’s pillows and stuffed it against her chest. For a moment, Anne wondered if it was insensitive, talking of love when Diana had ended her own romance with Jerry so abruptly. But then Diana smirked and plopped down unceremoniously on the bed.

“I see how it is! You kiss a boy once and suddenly you’re an expert?” she teased. A thrill went down Anne’s spine and she smothered a squeal with both hands over her face. 

“Three times, Diana! We kissed three times! ” she shrieked, so lovesick that Diana couldn’t help but laugh. She couldn’t wait until they told Cole, and Aunt Jo, and-

“You kissed whom three times, Anne?!” 

Anne and Diana’s laughter ended abruptly on their lips when Josie Pye came into the room. She was followed by the other three girls, who waited on baited breath for Anne’s answer. Biting back a chuckle, Anne did her best to keep her face neutral. They all looked so silly! Ruby’s eyes were wider than Anne knew they could be, and Tilly was pressing her lips together to physically lock back all of her questions. 

Anne and Diana righted themselves on the bed, backs straight like the proper ladies they were. She spoke in the most neutral tone she could muster -  which was not very impressive, considering how happy she was to be confessing that she had kissed - “Gilbert.”

Their jaws dropped to the floor with a silent BANG, and Anne wondered if maybe one of them still liked Gilbert, after all. Her doubt only lasted a second, and suddenly the room  erupted in shouts of triumph and delight and confusion. They threw questions at her, all of which Anne tried to answer as best she could.

“Gilbert Blythe!? Anne, you never said you liked him! When did you start-” 

“Earlier this year! Maybe always? Definitely always.” 

“Is he good at kissing?” 

“I don’t have much experience to base it off of, but it was incredibly perfect” 

“I thought he was engaged to-”

“I thought so too, but apparently he ended things with her to pursue his ‘unrequited love.’” 

“Unrequited love?” Diana cut in. “He really thought you didn’t return his feelings?” 

Anne shrugged.

“There were a lot of misunderstandings, I think. I still don’t know for sure how it all transpired.” 

There was a pause before Jane crossed her arms.

“Well, where is he?” 

A twinge of disappointment hit the back of Anne’s heart. This day had been so beautiful in ways that even she could not have imagined, but the entire summer could have been that way if she hadn’t been so…so foolish ! All they’d gotten was a few moments before he was swept away to Toronto. Her little twinge of disappointment was overshadowed by how proud she was, and how much she loved him, but it was present enough that her eyes fell to the floor. 

“He’s attending University of Toronto. Miss Stacey contacted a friend of hers, I think. He said it was imperative he arrive today. It’s quite a long train ride, so that’s where he is right now.” 

Anne couldn’t help but smile. How sweet he looked from the back of the carriage. She had half a mind that he would’ve given up college right then and there if she asked him to stay. As wonderful as it would have been to spend the afternoon in his arms, kissing and clearing up all the confusions, his future came first. Now that she was part of it, she didn’t feel so afraid to let him go off into that bright, expansive world.

“So I guess that means you’re courting him now,” Ruby said excitedly. 

Anne looked down at the pen in her hand, then at her group of friends. Was she? Anne wanted to court him, even if it was for a long time. Not to mention, he’d broken off his courtship for her. Anne’s stomach fell to the floor when a rush of affection overtook her. Gilbert Blythe had turned down a girl who was everything Anne had once wanted to be, and the Sorbonne, so that he could try again with her. 

“I...I suppose I am courting him, in a long distance sort of way,” Anne concluded carefully. “I’m adding that to my list of follow up questions. I want to know for sure.”

“We’re happy for you, Anne,” Diana said, placing her head on Anne’s shoulder. Resting her cheek on Diana’s new updo, Anne heaved a sigh of relief. What a gift days like today were, where Providence proved he had not left her behind. Wrapping her fingers around Diana’s, Anne brought their hands up to her lips. 

“Shocked, but happy,” Josie supplied in a Pye-ish voice. “But can we eat now? I came up to tell you lunch is ready?” 

The girls began to file down the hallway, their footsteps echoing against the tall walls of the house as they clambered down the stairs. Diana stood in the doorway once more, watching as Anne pressed a kiss to the pen in her hand and placed it on her bedside table. There’d be time for writing letters later. For now, Anne had her own future to step into once and for all.

~~*~~

During the moonlit peace of the evening was Anne’s favorite time to put her heart to paper. As she sat down at her new desk, she wondered if pen and paper had ever been put to better use.

Dear Gilbert, 

I look like my mother. I look so much like her, in fact, that for a brief moment I thought I was looking down at my own reflection. But the glorious name “Bertha” was scribed atop the portrait, and an equally lovely name was signed across the bottom, “Walter.” How those names fill me with such warmth to say on my lips. 

I do believe I’m leaving out an integral part of this story. Matthew and Marilla visited today. They had gone to see a woman I lived with as a child and brought with them a book on the language of flowers. (Expect some pressed blossoms in your near future, I have much I’d like to say to you!) The darling book had once belonged to my parents, and it was there my father sketched a portrait of my mother. 

I will be forever astonished at how a girl like me, who had such meager beginnings,  could come upon such a wonderful family! Not only Marilla and Matthew, but the kindred spirits I’ve collected along the way. (Of course, your name is written on that list and underlined twice.) Today has taught me an eternal appreciation for love, and I find myself overwhelmed by the intensity of it. I wonder if you know the feeling. 

As you’ll recall, I have several follow-up questions, but in exchange for your honest answers, I feel it’s only fair to offer you some explanations of my own. It’s just that I’m unsure where to begin. What do you already know? Hmm…The beginning is as good a place to start as any. 

Gilbert, you must understand that love is such a young concept to me. I have only been on the receiving side of love since shortly after arriving at Green Gables, before which, I’d never even observed it with my own eyes. I’ve had being loved by family mastered for quite some time, thanks to Marilla and Matthew, but allowing you to come into my heart was so much different.  Trying to translate what I’d read in books and compare it with what I truly felt was much harder than I anticipated. 

Oh, it wasn’t the loving part that was hard. Loving you is as easy and breathtaking as stargazing from my new window. But realizing it, letting it happen, allowing myself to believe that a person like you could care for me...that was where the difficulties arose. It wasn’t until everything was still and I was content that you hit me like a roll of thunder. I sat up in my bed and exclaimed, “I’m in love with Gilbert Blythe!” Gave Diana quite the scare. 

 I’m sorry it took so long for me to come to my senses. Part of me wonders what would have happened if I’d realized sooner. Nevertheless, I’m exceedingly grateful that you appeared at my doorstep today, as magnificent as ever, to take one last chance. 

You’re likely curious about the note I wrote you. To be honest, I cannot explain to you why you never received it. I left it right underneath the water jug on your kitchen table. I wonder where it is now. Thankfully, the contents of the letter were quite short and, in more ways than one, sweet. I’ve inserted a new copy inside this letter so that you can have what you were originally meant to have. 

There are more questions I have, but I think I’d rather hear what’s on your mind first. (Not that I can mail this until you write to me first with your return address.) There is one thing I will ask because, though I’m 99% certain I know the answer, I’d like to be entirely certain: are we courting? If you’re waiting to hear what I think on the matter first, I’d like to court you, even if it’s a four year process. Or longer. Truly, Gilbert, all I want is you. 

Oh - and how much does train fare cost from PEI to Toronto? I’d like to start saving as soon as possible to come see you. 

Alright, my love, I think I have sufficiently taken up an adequate amount of your time. Please know that I’m thinking of you during your first days of college, and I already miss you beyond words. 

Yours always, 

Anne 

(PS: Where in the world did you learn to kiss like that? No - don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.) 

[rudemaidenswrite]

Damn

Fandom: House of a 1,000 Corpses

Rufus Jr 'RJ' Firefly x Reader

By: @pusantheamazonian​                      not beta’d

I've always liked RJ. Of course there's like nuthin’ for him. So viola!

“Howdy Y/N. Hidin’ from your daddy again?” With the ring if the doorbell. Spaulding greets you with a smile already knowing why you're here.

“You know it.” Slowly making your way to the counter. Sad to say you're a little ashamed of this predicament.

“Darlin you need to leave his ass or find a boyfriend. You hidin’ out here ain't good for you. People are going to say you're strange.”

“I'm already strange. I willingly walk five miles to get here because I prefer hanging out with you and the museum than my daddy when he's home.” Reaching the counter you kick at the floor. He goes through this speech every time.

“Five miles? You're saying you walk five miles just to be here?” A hand on his hip. He looks at you like you have two heads or something.

“Yes, I walk everywhere I don't have a car. I'm saving my money so I can leave this town.”

“You need to leave his ass.”

“I know I know. It's just hard. I moved in to make sure he was alright after momma died but he started drinking again and it just got worse.” With your best doe eyes you plead for him to stop his scolding.

“The usual?” Spaulding says after giving you a disapproving look.

“Yup.”

He places a chocolate bar and a bag of chicken on the counter. Thanking him, you hand over the money. Placing the bag of chicken in your bag. You begin eating the chocolate as you wander over to Aqualina.

Hearing the ding of the doorbell you're used to the slow trickle of regulars and random travelers. But ever vigilant to make sure it's not your father. You always peek a look at whoever enters.

Today is no other day. Turning to see who it is, you're stunned. To say that you weren't staring is a lie. You've never seen him before and you're here at least twice a week.  His tall muscular stature, dark brown hair with a button up shirt that looks a little tight has you weak in the knees. Biting your lip is the only thing that keeps you from drooling. You watch him closely as he walks to the counter and talks with Spaulding. The way he's talking to him, Spaulding must know him. You briefly catch Spaulding call him RJ. Not very suttle in staring, Spaulding is looking at you. Before you can compose yourself, Spaulding's given you a wink and smirk. Embarrassed you spin back around trying to ignore them. But you keep glancing at their reflection in the glass. Spaulding fucking knows what you're doing. Cause every time you look at the glass Spaulding still has that smirk. Flustered you breeze past them and out the door. Berating yourself all the way home.

Spaulding knows.

~

This strange encounter goes on for three weeks. Every time RJ showed up you were only able to stay for a few minutes because you found yourself staring. Staring so much that your throat goes dry. Always ignoring him and Captain Spaulding before either one could say anything. This week you'll be damned if you have to leave in an embarrassment.

“What the hell are you doing?” Spotting Spaulding you make a b-line to him, leaning over the counter.

“Well I'm about to eat this tasty donut but you're interrupting me.”

“Not the donut. You know what I'm talking about. You disappear and then RJ shows up a few minutes later.” Glaring you lean in .

Suddenly he’s grabbed you by the shirt and hoisted you over the counter. Shocked your feet are dangling off the ground. Shit what have you done? Panic sets in.

“Darlin you best be minding me. I saw the two of you eye fucking. You both need to stop being pussies and get on with it.” He is wearing a mean scowl, meaner than you've ever seen.

“He.. likes me?” Now you're confused, you never noticed RJ looking at you. Hell you didn't even think he noticed you. well noticed you as a girl and not the random person who always suddenly leaves.

“Damn girl pay attention! Why the hell do you think I'm even botherin’ with this?" Aggravated he releases you.

"I don't know, to be annoying?"

"Y/N. That's the stupidest thing you've said yet. You're grounded to your corner." Deadpaning he points to your usual spot in the corner.

"Fine." Grumbling you straighten out your shirt and go to your corner. Damn it, you hate when he treats you like a child.

Like always Spaulding disappears for a few minutes, returning with a shit eating grin. Exactly fifteen minutes later in walks RJ. In the glass you see Spaulding point at you, clearly done with your shit. RJ looks at you and you quickly glance away, hoping he didn't see you staring.

A thick silence fills the room, nervous you try not to panic. You're not going to make a good impression if you're flustered. God you hope he's not a dick. The last couple guys have been assholes.

RJ quietly makes it to your side and waits. Apparently waiting for you to make the first move. Well now or never.

“Uh hi. Captain Spaulding says you go by RJ is that right?”

“Yes…failed to mention yours."

“Y/N.” Giving a small smile. His voice is better up close, it has a deep country tone to it.  

“You draw?" He eyes the sketch book in your hand.

“It's just a hobby that I get to work on here. I'm surprised Spaulding hasn't banned me yet.”

"You visit often?"

"About twice a week. I go for a walk and end up here."

"Lair. You hide out here about every other day." Spaulding chimes. Immediately turning to glare at him. He returns the look with a meaner scowl, forcing you to turn back around. Now you're just embarrassed.

"Interesting place of choice."

"Better than some places."

"Better? That's low expectations."

"Keep your expectations low and you will never be disappointed." Excited, you're able to get a chuckle out of him. He looks adorable when he smiles.

“Can I see?”

“Sure.” Tucking the pencil behind your ear you hand it to him. He flips through all of your decent and shitty drawings. Mostly shitty.

"Interesting one." Handing it back, he left it open to a particular page. It's a skull that has a glass eyeball in the forehead.

"Oh I was inspired by the whole third eye philosophy." He gives you a confused look. "The third eye or inner eye that's a mystical and esoteric concept.  Referring to an invisible eye in the middle of the forehead. That provides perception beyond ordinary sight." Staring at each other there's a moment of silence. Obviously, he did not just understand a word you said.

"That is a lot of words I don't know."

"Sorry. Sometimes I just word vomit." Motioning with your hand you pretend to vomit.

"Cute and smart."

Abort! Abort!

"Uh thanks. Never been those before." Blushing you don't know what to say. Expect that you are freaking out. He thinks you're cute and smart.

“Well I should be going. I have work in the morning. I'll see you later." You slowly walk to the door. "GOODBYE SPAULDING!”

"Bye Y/N." A muffled shout comes from the back.

"Bye RJ." You give a wave before disappearing out the door.

"Bye."

At home you find your father passed out in the recliner. You quickly clean up the empty beer bottles and trash before heading upstairs. Making sure to lock your door.

It's another two days before you make it back to Spaulding's. Like clockwork, RJ sneaks up beside you. Waiting for you to notice but you always notice. The man is a walking wall of muscle. Giving him a smile you tuck the notebook away.

“Here, I made chocolate chip cookies.”

“Thanks.” He peeks under the lid before tucking the container under his arm.

“How ungrateful. You didn't bring me none?” Spaulding shouts from the counter.

“Did you look in the container on the fridge?” Rolling your eyes you can't believe he missed it.

“What fuckin’ container?”

“Red square tin.” You point at the most identifiable item on top of the fridge.

“I'll be damned, paint my ass blue and call me a baboon. You didn't forget me after all.” Munching on the cookies he disappears into the back.

“No hope for him.” Chuckling you turn back to RJ.

“You bake?”

“Every now and then. Mainly when I have a reason to.”

"What's your favorite thing to bake?"

"Mmm. I would have to say cookies because I can eat the cookie dough while the cookies are baking."

"Doesn't that give you food poisoning?"

"They say it does but I'm willing to take the chance."

He chuckles, amused by your oddness. Maybe you’re weird for this reason.

“Do you want a ride home?”  

Surprised that he asked, you hope that this doesn't end badly if you follow him. Besides, it's still a little early to go home. Though it would be nice to spend some alone time with him. Well out of sight of Spaulding.

"Sure."

Outside you finally see what his ride is. His truck is one of those old ones. The kind where you have to slam the door shut to make sure it shuts and you have no idea how it's still operational.

Buckling your seatbelt there is a faint smell of liquor and car grease.

“You want to see something that's not at the museum?” Climbing into his seat he's got this look in his eyes.  Like he wants to test the limits of your sanity.

“Yeah, what is it?”

Smiling he puts the truck into gear. RJ drives a few miles outside of town, farther out than Spaulding's shop. He pulls onto a dirt road that leads to a farm. Surrounded by a big wooden fence with several outlying buildings and one big farmhouse. The location and isolation of the farm makes you uneasy.

"Follow me." RJ instructs exiting the truck. Nodding nervously you follow. He walks to a wood shed. “Here.” He opens the shed door.

“Wow!” Stunned you slowly walk around it. Someone has created a female Minotaur. The brown hair is styled on the cow's head sitting cross legged in shorts and t-shirt. You're unable to see the lines where the two have been attached. “Who made this?”

“Otis.”

“Otis?”

“Adoptive… Uncle? The family adopted him years ago.” He shrugs not really sure how to explain it.

“Well you can give him my regards. This is amazing.” You cautiously poke the snout.

"I'll pass it along."

The door creaks and you turn to look. Just to make sure that RJ didn't leave you, nope it's a new person entering. You knew RJ was tall but this guy is even taller! Really looking at him you see some deformities. From what you can tell they must be due to his stature.

“My brother Tiny.” RJ explains seeing your confused face.

“Hi Tiny. I'm Y/N.” It's oddly funny that his name is Tiny but he's so tall. You keep that to yourself. Tiny waves. “Nice shirt.” You point at his shirt. It says I got your back bro. One stick figure is holding the other stick figure’s back.

He seems to chuckle before grabbing a hammer and shuffling away.

"How many siblings do you have?" You make your way back to RJ’s side.

"Just Baby and Tiny."

"Baby?"

"Sister."

"Must be fun. I never had any siblings."

"You're not missing anything."

"Really?"

"Really." RJ leads you back to the truck before you can question anything else.

~

Pulling up to your house the moment is bittersweet. You don't want to go inside but you know you have to.

"Thanks for the ride. I'll see you later." Smiling, you place a hand on the door handle. You struggle a moment to open it. The door is unlocked but you have to sort of shove it for it to open.

Cracking the door, you turn to look back at RJ. Surprised. RJ has leaned over and is a few inches away. You swear he can hear your heart pounding. There's only a pause before he captures your lips. His lips are surprisingly soft and so are his movements. Without a thought you press into the kiss. Only to have him part a few moments later.

"Bye." Smirking he doesn't move as he waits for you to catch up.

"Bye." Dazed you fumble with the door trying to get out. You know you must be red as a tomato. Once out of the truck you keep peeking over your shoulder to look at him. Did he just lure you out on a date?

RJ chuckles. So refreshing. Soft and reserved, nothing like his family who are loud, opinionated and chaotic.

Since that night RJ takes you home every night you visit Spaulding. Always taking the long way around. The flirty smiles and mischievous looks on the drive home. Stealing kisses before you open the passenger door. Sometimes leading to wandering hands. Leaving you always wanting more. Making you braver every week.

That all came to a screeching stop when you came home from work to find your father already home, drunk and awake.

Making it to Spalding’s, you manage to sneak in and leave money on the counter after swiping a chocolate bar. You plan on hiding outside tonight to avoid any lectures from Spaulding.

“Howdy Y/N.”

shit.

“Hey Spaulding. Just stopped in for a candy bar, I put the money on the counter.” Almost to the door you pause.

“Y/N.”

“Yes?”

“Turn around.”

Fuck!

There's no way of escaping. In defeat you slowly turn around.

“What in the fucking hell is that?” He’s immediately around the counter and pointing at your face.

“He got back early today.”

“Did you at least hit the bastard before you left?”

“Yeah… how bad is it?”

“You haven't looked?”

“No.”

“It ain't pretty darlin.” Shaking his head you know he’s disappointed with you. You're disappointed in yourself.

“Damn.”

“Come back here. Best to hide for the moment.” He pulls you along and behind the curtain into his break room. The walls are a weird off white color. There's a recliner, a table with two chairs, a microwave and a small refrigerator on the counter. "Sit."

Not arguing you sit at the table. You're embarrassed that he caught you like this. Now he's definitely going to think you're stupid.

"Put this on it." He hands you an ice pack wrapped in a towel.

"Thanks."

He disappears back behind the curtain. Probably to turn the open sign around. With a defeated sigh you hold the ice pack just barely close enough to your face. The bruise is still tender and you haven't decided yet if the cold is making it better or worse.

Spaulding returns grumpy as ever.

"Let me see." You move your hand away slowly. "Got you good. Whole side of your face is bruised. You want to explain what happened?" Pulling the chair closer he sits in front of you.

"He found out about RJ somehow. Was waiting for me at the door. Going on about him being trash and that I'm too young for boys."

"How old are you?"

"I'm twenty seven."

"I'm only kidding but you're still a baby compared to me." Teasing he pats your knee.

"Ha ha." Huffing you put the ice pack back. "Son of a bitch!" You weren't watching and put it on your skin too quickly.

"Ah! You do have a potty mouth. I was startin' to wonder if you knew how to curse." Chuckling he leans back into the chair. Giving him the stink eye only makes him laugh harder.

The ding of the doorbell makes him stop. “That should be RJ.”

“RJ? You called RJ?” Panicking this night is just getting worse.

"You have a few pages stuck together if you think I didn't."

"Fuck." Groaning as you stand, the walk to the curtain is too short. You part the curtain not ready to explain to RJ.

“Y/N!” The drunken voice is fueled by anger.

“Daddy?”

“I should have known you would be here. Let's go!” Before you can react he's at the counter. He’s got a death grip on your arm and pulling you to the door.

“No let go.” Kicking him in the groin. His grip loosens and you push him to the floor. "Spaulding!"

Screaming you run back to the break room but a hand grips your ankle. Pulling you down with a hard thud.

"Y/N!" Yelling, a possessed look takes over.

Rolling over you use your other leg and start kicking.

"Get off me!" Screaming at him. You don't notice the figure barrelling through the door.

In a millisecond he stops. Eyes never stop staring at you. Blood trickles down his face. That's when you notice blood is everywhere and you see a giant metal hook lodged in the back of his head.

You can't process this, everything has gone numb. He's dead. The man who's tormented you these past few years. Making you regret everything you've done to help. Is dead.

"Y/N."

"RJ?" Snapping your attention upwards. It's RJ. This man must be heaven sent.

“What the fuck is this?” Spaulding yells whipping a pistol around and glancing at the body. You point at RJ. Who bends over and picks you up like you were a rag doll. Proceeding to put you over his shoulder.

"Whoa!"

“What do you think this is? A fuckin’ clean up service? RJ!” Spaulding's pissed and RJ clearly doesn't care because he walks back outside. You are confused beyond all get out.

"Damn it. I just mopped the floor." Grumbling Spaulding gets the mop.

Squealing of the truck door indicates where he has taken you. In one solid motion he moves you the passenger seat. His frame blocks any view you could have.

To your surprise he gingerly takes your chin and tilts your head. Obviously to get a better look at the damage. This flip in focus makes you feel very inadequate. Second guessing if you deserve him.

"Y/N." He noticed your avoidance with eye contact.

Finally looking at him you officially break down. "RJ I'm sorry!" Tears are pouring, body threatening to hiccup.

"Why are you sorry? I should be. I didn't get here sooner."

"He was waiting for me today. I know I should have just turned around when I saw him but I didn't. I'm so stupid! I know better not to be there when he's drunk and awake."

"Don't worry about it. He got what was coming."

"Really? But he's-"

"A dead bastard." RJ affirms. He wont have you mourning over that man.

Letting it sink in for a moment you begin to nod in agreement.

"Let's get you home. It'll be alright." He kisses your forehead giving you a tight hug.

"Okay."

[whatamessz]

Fic “A Song about Breakfast”

I asked for prompts and @dreaming-powder was as lovely to send me one <3 So here are Murdoc and 2D creating music, a mysterious commercial occupying the only TV on Plastic Beach, discussions about jellyfishes and a relatively smooth sea.

Cleaned up and edited version on AO3.

1846 words | rating: general audience | 2D’s POV | Phase 3 | TW: mentions  of substance abuse | 2Doc only implied, could also be read as platonic

A Song about Breakfast

It’s around six A.M. and 2D sits in front of the huge TV in the living room.The same ancient looking and awfully frantic commercial flares over the flat screen for approximately the thirtieth time since he had opted on residing here this morning. It doesn’t matter. Zapping is pointless. There was only this specific ad on every channel every morning around this time over and over and over.

His brain is pretty much offline anyway and he has stopped questioning occurrences like this a long time ago. He just knows the thing with the endless commercial loop because watching it had happened to become one of his sleeplessness routines here on Plastic Beach and he doubted that Murdoc would care to fix the issue if he would ever tell him.

Sometimes 2D manages to nod off with the telly running, sometimes he just reaches some kind of meditative state which he always considers as the only fitting kind of meditation on a pink island entirely made out of trash.

He snaps out of whatever condition he had reached today when the commercial clock rings again and he is remembered that it’s still an advertisement for an instant breakfast.

His stomach gives a painful growl at that and he realizes just then that he’s hungry. 2D drags himself up and in the kitchen when the obnoxiously cheerful bespectacled TV man asks the off voice if it’s kidding when it promises a full breakfast in only three microwave minutes.

The decision on what to eat quickly becomes overwhelming when he opens the fridge, so he just tiredly reaches for the milk. He looks for the Cheerios and reinserts himself back on his old spot with a full bowl of cereals. Eventually it strikes the magic hour in which the usual program flickers back on and 2D just watches Cartoon Network while he tries very hard not think of long past Sunday mornings with little Noodle.

*** *** ***

It’s noon and he still hasn’t slept, that’s why he sits in the studio now, entirely unprompted, and toys with ideas his sleep deprived brain produces seemingly out of nowhere. The studio is also one of the few places with internet access on this island (though Murdoc had ensured child safety locks in every browser and all of 2D’s or the bands accounts on platforms he’s still allowed to use are thoroughly disabled or have new passwords, however that was possible).

Today’s morning obviously had left its impression. He couldn’t kill the pesky earworm of the jingle from the commercial and thanks to Murdoc’s precautions and the unstable internet connection, it takes him much longer than he would like to admit to sift through a string of 80’s TV spots on YouTube until he finally finds it. He cuts out an audio sample.

By this time, his head is a hellhole of commercial voices, intrusive melodies and his own unconnected thoughts racing.

He starts to work a song around it as a coping mechanism.

Next act. Murdoc himself emerges in the studio’s door. He looks awful.

Like he didn’t sleep in days, too, and that was probably the case, but when he takes in the image of 2D sitting barefoot and straddle-legged on the thick carpet, hunched over his synthesizer, MacBook and notepad scattered around in an apparent working mood, an uncanny huge grin slides across his face, exposing his shark like rotten teeth.

So far, 2D is unenthusiastic about this encounter. He keeps on tinkering with beats from the drum machine and the commercial sample.

“I’m honestly delighted to see you are willing to work even without my gentle requests from time to time,” Murdoc greets him and puts an unnerving emphasis on the word ‘delighted’. 2D only pulls a sardonic expression in answer. He also hasn’t decided yet if he finds Murdoc’s sensible lighter moods more bearable then the… other ones. They’re probably drug-induced anyway.

Not that he was one to talk, he mentally scolds himself. Well, at least he wasn’t like Murdoc, yet. That was his only solace.

2D decides he is too tired and too busy to pick a fight today. Murdoc obviously decides to challenge this resolution and snickers.

“Not quite the Chatty Cathy today hu, sunshine? Well, my night was great, GREAT I tell ya. Threw a party with Cyborg and the pirates. When I’m thinking about it this would be a great name for a band. No wait, scratch that, we already have a great name. And a great band. The GREATEST, if I may say so hun hun hun.” He stops to catch his breath. “Anyway, what are you working on? Doesn’t sound like one of the songs I gave you.”

2D has stopped listening at the very first sentence and scribbles something on his notepad. “’M sorry, what?”

Murdoc sighs, impatient. “The sooong. What are you doing right now? I’m curious.”

“It’s… a new thing. A song… about breakfast,” 2D hears himself saying despite of himself. The truth is, that he wasn’t entirely sure what this was supposed to become.

“About what,” Murdoc snaps incredulous.

“About breakfast,” 2D answers promptly and, to his own surprise, advances a defensive bottom lip. “It’s a song… like a commercial. Catchy, fast living, colorful, you know? Seemingly disposable and about something short lived. Just trying to sell… sss-something for breakfast. Something you can just swallow down when you’re in a hurry.”

Ok, his thoughts are really just running loose right now. He hopes he can remember that later because in this moment the stuff he just bullshat at the same time made miraculous and perfect sense in his poor, tortured head.

Murdoc’s interest suddenly seems piqued. He snatches the notepad from 2D’s thigh and skims over the lines and sentences that may or may not constitute a first attempt on lyrics, nodding appreciatively while he reads. 2D looks up, his face scrunched up insecurely.

Murdoc strides around him, still staring at the notepad and clearly thinking. “Hmmm you know what, this could really work as a concept,” he mutters and lowers himself to the floor with a groan, back to back with 2D.

2D stiffs up at that and considers leaning away.

“Any ideas on how to call it already?” The question hits him offhand and he blinks, unsure.

“Uhn… Little…Pink…stink…fish?” he comes up with, very response delayed.

Suddenly, Murdoc just cracks up and laughs harshly and genuinely until he chokes on his own spit and the laughter turns into a coughing fit.

2D can feel the vibration of it rocking his own body. As if it was contagious, 2D can’t help the smile that spreads over his face then, partly over his own stupid answer, partly because he hears and feels Murdoc laughing and he hadn’t had that in a very long time.

“You know, I also had a new idea for a song last night,” Murdoc pipes up excited when his coughing finally has subsided. “Just wait!”

With that, he takes the pencil lying next to 2D and scribbles something on the notepad. Curious, 2D leans to the side to try and spy what the bassist was doing, but just in that moment Murdoc so much as thrusts the pad back into his face, brandishing it so close in front of his nose that at first, he can’t make out anything. 2D cautiously takes the pad and stares at it, baffled.

“Murdoc, that’s just a shitty sketch of one of these sodding jellyfishes,” 2D states irritated. Murdoc had drawn the silly grinning thing just over his “lyrics”.

“RIGHT??? These are just bloody everywhere!”

“But... that’s not a song,” 2D answers again, but he sounds interested now. He thinks his overtired brain is just about to produce another idea.

“But we need a song about them on the album! They embody the experience of this place!!!” Murdoc sounds frantic now and 2D can feel him gesturing wildly.

“They even look more like candy wrappers than real animals,” he agrees and nods along, even if the likeliness of Murdoc’s drawing with the actual strange animals he remembers seeing sometimes in front of his underwater prison or in the Stylo (submarine mode) is only minimal.

“They are a plague, I swear! There was a bunch – “, Murdoc interrupts himself. “A gang? A posse? A pack? – nah whatever! There were a whole lot of them almost clogging the seawater suction pipes for the cooling system of the engine room last week! Had to get on my good ol’ wetsuit and get rid of ‘em myself…”, he mumbles and 2D giggles at the image. He himself hadn’t noticed any of that last week.

“I… can show you what I thought so far for the music,” he offers.

“Yeah yeah, go on”, Murdoc encourages him and snivels, so 2D shows him the gruesome commercial sample and that he intends on putting it at the beginning of the song.

“Disturbing. I like it,” Murdoc states with a palpable shiver down his spine.

“Did you know this commercial is the only thing that runs on every channel for at least an hour every morning around six,” 2D suddenly admits and Murdoc half turns around.

“No… what in the seven hells? Why?”

“I thought you might know.” He shrugs and goes on with his demonstration.

Murdoc taps his foot to the beat of the drum machine and chimes in with comments here and there on what he might like or would change. He only stands up one time to pick up his bass, strumming along some very simple base lines in time with the drums and piano snippets the singer had patched together so far. Somewhere along, 2D had reached his dead point where he no longer felt drop dead tired and Murdoc had seemed to come down from whatever height he was in when he first entered. Surprisingly, the companionable workflow lasts.

That really was a rarity, since many other songs before had been a true fight.

At some point, he can feel Murdoc’s little finger creep over to rest on his own. 2D, who was lazily pushing some keys on his synth with one hand, bites his lip. He takes a deep breath.

“Muds?”

“Yeah?”

“We are having a good time right now for once, right,” he starts flat out. Murdoc pauses.

“I… think so.”

“Then don’t ruin it,” 2D says coolly and can feel how Murdoc’s retreats his hand instantly.

“2D I-“

“We can maybe work the jellyfish in you know,” he cuts Murdoc off and tries changing the subject.

“The jellyfish could be the theme together with the breakfast. The jellyfish could be the brand. Don’t you wish to stab those stupid smiles sometimes”, he goes on, even when animal cruelty really is the last thing he would like to promote and the jellyfishes for sure weren’t the ones that did anything to him. Sometimes he’s just so angry.

Murdoc huffs and chuckles lowly. “Actually…. That’s crazy but brilliant. I’m a genius for coming up with these  things.”

2D sighs in dramatized exasperation. “Yes, Murdoc, you really are.”

[maimagazineblog]

MAI Wonder of the World - Michael Wilson

Today we turn our gaze to Australian creative director & photographer, Michael Wilson, who shares some of his hot tips on how to become a harder worker, what it is about cityscapes that makes them feel so darn special, and we find out if he would be at the front or the back of the line if life outside of earth were a viable option.

Read on for our full #interview

Hi Mike, so you mentioned that you began taking photographs as a way of capturing locations while you were working as a TV commercial director & that you are completely self-taught. Could you share with us one of your earliest on the job work experiences?

Sure thing. So one of the things that I learned pretty early on is that the more prep you do the less nervous you are. Simply visiting locations multiple times in different lighting conditions, or looking at the scenes with and without a lens, and pre-visualising scenes by sketching and shooting test frames all helped me feel more confident and focussed come shoot day. On one of my first big jobs - think 45 person crew, multiple locations, months of post-production required - I’d prepared an extremely detailed, visual shot list with exact angles, lensing recommendations, performance cues etc. This level of prep not only gave the 15 clients on set confidence but also gave the crew a clear roadmap for each setup. It’s pretty standard stuff, I know, but every job deserves it. And from that I learned that when everyone knows where you’re heading it’s easier to get their support and trust. Further to that, when you have a plan and capture it, it opens up the opportunity to creatively explore other options.

How long did it take you to start gaining recognition as a creative director and as a photographer, and what do you believe has most helped set you apart?

When I first started out I was told that you can’t always ‘out-think’ people but you can ‘out-work’ them. It might be a boring and unpopular thing to say, but hard work is what helped me get noticed.

“ I figured that focus, perseverance, dedication and a little obsession would eventually pay off.”

I’m also my own harshest critic, so when people told me my work was good I’d go back to the drawing board and try to make it great. It sounds cliched I know, but it got me into a mindset that was constantly focussed on improving my work. I was also lucky enough to be surrounded by great people who were willing to share their collective wisdom. All I had to do was put my ego in my back pocket and be willing to listen and learn.

You live and work in Australia, but a lot of your cityscapes have a real universal likeness to them… What is it about these types of locations that particularly attracts you?

Oh thank you, that’s really kind of you to say. That’s exactly the feeling I’m trying to capture. The cinematographer Roger Deakins (Fargo, Blade Runner 2046), director David Fincher (Se7en, Gone Girl) and photographer Nadav Kander are all major influences on my work. They create scenes that evoke a feeling, an atmosphere, and ultimately a reaction. This is my/the ultimate goal and what attracts me to certain locations over others. I’m aiming to create images that have a cinematic quality to them, moments that are bedded in a world that have a universal connection and are not merely documentation. To do this I rest heavily on light, shadow, time of day, mist and fog, reflected sunlight and the structure and design of modern-day canyons in our cities.

Something that caught our attention recently on your Instagram account is your primary use of yellow, orange, and black color palettes… What has been drawing you to this particular color spectrum and how much of your work is photo manipulated?

This all started after I read a quote from Stanley Kubrick - and I paraphrase badly here - but apparently primary colours evoke primal moods. That notion resonated with me, after-all I’m less interested in documenting a building and more excited by my ability to evoke a mood. As I mentioned earlier, Roger Deakins has a major influence over my work. His use of silhouette, primary colours, and scenes drenched in colour and atmosphere is inspirational and the gold standard as far as I’m concerned. So with those colour cues in mind 

“I developed a series based on the idea of ‘would you miss me when I’m gone?’ i.e. what if the places you pass by every day were about to disappear - hence the apocalyptic colour palette - would you look at them differently?” 

So this particular spectrum was born out of the concept and designed to serve the storytelling. Truth be told, the more I worked with these warm tones the more I felt I was creating a distinct point of view. To bring these tones to the fore I start by shooting in warm light - most often dusk - and I adjust my in-camera white balance to as warm as I feel necessary. This usually takes care of those warmer tones. In terms of the use of black, dusky light generally delivers lots of deep shadows. Therefore, a large majority of my image creation is taken care of in-camera. If I get this right, then my time in Lightroom is minimal. In general, I spend no more than 10 minutes on a image. Most of it is taken up balancing the desire to see detail in shadows versus creating a slightly surreal world full of simple silhouettes. If you scroll through my Instagram feed you’ll see a variation of orange and yellow tones. This shows how each image is a response to the time of day it was shot, light values and atmospheric conditions. I do get a lot of questions asking if I ‘build’ the cityscapes in Photoshop, or add fog etc. 

“Part of the challenge for me is working with the elements in front of me - the light, the city, the weather - and so adding elements in post-production takes that challenge away.” 

In some ways I wish I could add more fog or rain or other atmospheric items - it’d save me having to shoot in bad weather - but I just don’t have that level of expertise.

Do you have a preference to digital over analog photography and why?

That’s such a tough question. On one hand I absolutely love shooting on film. It’s sharpened my technical skills, helped me shoot less but better images, taught me to slow down and really think about each frame. Further to that, shooting with film cameras has a certain ‘feel’ to it. I love the solidity, the mechanics and the weight of them. 

“I tend to shoot my more personal stuff on film”

Rroad trips, portraits of friends and family, important moments in life, times that already have a certain nostalgia attached to them. And on the other hand, digital gives me certainty.

Name something weird or defining that only where you live has?

I’ve had the opportunity to live in London, Amsterdam, Auckland, Sydney, Adelaide and now Melbourne. All of which have pretty defining quirks. But as a photographer whose work relies heavily on the weather, Melbourne is easily the most dynamic I’ve experienced. It embodies the ‘four seasons in one day’ notion and is predictably unpredictable. And this is a good thing, for me at least. Anything that brings drama and atmosphere to my images is welcome.

Now for some quick questions for fun...

Who is your favorite family member and what’s so good about them? 

I have two boys, so if I pick a favourite I’m sure that my life expectancy would be greatly reduced.

If they discovered life on another planet meaning that you could feasibly move there, would you be one of the first or one of the last to head over and check it out?

As much as I’d like to be first, I’m not so keen on being the canary down the mine.

What television series are you streaming right now?

I just finished the incredible Sharp Objects and the very tense second series of Ozark. So now I’m on the hunt for a dose of Nordic Noir.

To more Mike follow him on:

Instagram

Website

[project-ces-sds-blog]

“SOW DON’T SING”-Beta Reads First Draft Impressions Reflection Paper

First draft reflection paper HERE.

Last Thursday I received my feedback for the first draft of “Sow Don’t Sing,” so today’s reflection paper will be in accordance to organizing my thoughts on what has been said about it and how I’ll move forward with the second rewrite.

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE STORY DISCUSSED BELOW!

I’m still pretty stunned how the feedback overall has been mostly positive. I’ve never considered myself an adequate writer because of some hiccups and negative experiences back in elementary school where my enthusiasm for writing was squashed...so this is really great for me to know that I have some footing.

She also said she “can’t wait to see where this project will end up??” and that I “could send her the next drafts of the scripts in full so that she could read the whole thing comprehensively??” Cries??? I’m so thankful for her support.

My prof who did the read likes to repeatedly mention that I have “an ear for natural dialogue” (for the most part) and that I’ve “clearly got something here,” which is the greatest thing I can hear right now since the role of the binders is ground zero for spit-balling ideas and accumulating the ones that seems to stick.

How well some parts in the script operate is directly proportionate to how much material has been tinkered/stored in the design works binders...good to know, since I’d be doing something REALLY wrong if the more I do, the worse it gets. Guess I’ll continue to hammer away in this particular writing process I’ve composed for myself. 

With the way things are turning out, I might only really be able to submit this script to screenwriting contests at the earliest in Fall 2019...I really hope it would be earlier or around this estimated time.

I sometimes forget about the roots of my influences of this story. It surprises me that my professor really wants to bolster the whole “Ole Lukøje” concept more in the film...I kinda held back since I was certain the idea was really, really stupid? Especially in practice lmao?? But I guess in context of the story it operated rather well...To think something I slapped on for trailer fodder became coherent...wow.

That said, I must not forget about my roots of influence. The better ideas here came directly from anime lol... (Bungaku Shoujo, Detective Conan, and Haibane Renmei, anything Yamada Naoko directs, are all subtly, but directly influenced in this mess--just not in the way you’d think.)

APPARENTLY THE BEST SCENE I WROTE IN THIS THING IS THE SEX SCENE???? THAT’S PROBABLY THE STRONGEST PART??? LMAO HOW DID I END UP HERE???

Probably the most profound question my prof asked me was “what kind of story are you trying to tell?” and that “I should have that question posted on a sticky note and slap it on my PC as I write.” This was less negative criticism, and more of a response towards my asking of her on “whether or not Ramon should live in the end.” However it’s good to reflect on that since for a hot second when I honestly blanked out and forgot at the time she asked. 

I remember now though--this story is my life and how I view the world personally. But I must not forget my transition between thinking “like a child” and thinking “like an adult.” It started with a dream I had, where I was among dilapidated ruins of a cityscape--with the dust and acrid smell of chipped concrete filled the air--but the clouds above emitted a strong but gentle, golden light onto the gray from down below. That very specific feeling of listlessness is what I wish to properly convey. I’m creating a story that just drips and oozes with that emotion--painful, but poignant and glimmering with a golden sheen but the very end. I should never forget that.

A similar body of work that had deeply influenced the emotional confine of this project would have to be @rapparu33​ ‘s film “カナメヲ,” which they have mentioned on twitter that it was an idea stemmed from a dream. I’m glad to be on a similar path here. 

Okay, so goals for the second draft:

I’ve been told that the first couple of pages are rapid-firing information that is difficult to grasp all at once which was the intended purpose haha since I’ve heard that “if you don’t impress on the first page script readers will throw it out.” My prof complimented me on listening to that but gave me the relief that for the purposes of this story, I won’t have to do that. (Thank God.)

I’ll be able to slow down the start and give more time for the audience to chew on Ondine and Camille.

I didn’t realize that I was caught up in the fascination with Bentley because of novelty. Since he’s technically the newest addition to the cast and the last to be added to this ensemble, I was just distracted by how shiny and new he was. Now that he’s taken time to simmer in my head, I can think about him a lot more prospectively.

My prof said his dialogue is probably the weakest/clunkiest part of the army segment and that “he spiels like every self-help book I’ve ever read, ever.” That hit it hard on the nail--that is exactly what I did. I tried very hard to write this sort of “infallible mentor figure” but since I’ve never had that sort of figure in my life, it was very hard to write. I ended up writing what I wanted to hear instead of something more genuine. 

I need to make a list of diction....

Bentley will now take a different turn in this second rewrite in the hopes of him coming off more organic--and I’ve figured out how. I’ll have to write his backstory and just focus on him and Susan before I can attempt to rewrite his bits.

Bentley and Luca will now hug in the story because I am Satan.

Jimmy and Luca will also hug to balance them out because I am still Satan.

Speaking of Jimmy, I want to give more focus on their friendship--so I hope I’ll be able to add in more characterization--hopefully to also mention that Luca played violin for a time.

Ramon will indeed live in this draft since I have found a way to alleviate some of the burden of Isidore’s role around the ending.

Ramon will also spit less fire this time around, and will visually drop his affections towards Nelson more.

As I’ve tinkered with Ramon, Virgil ended up being much more fleshed out than I could have ever anticipated despite being a one-note character. Dang. Go me.

I somehow added a third instance where Luca tries to kill himself. Go me again, lol.

Wondering if a fake-out kiss between Luca and Nelson is possible...lol...

I’ll really have to focus that around the end it’s less about Luca “embracing his darkness” and more along the lines of “accepting a suicide mission where he will die as Ole Lukøje and not as Luca Russo.

Luca lost in his reverie when he speaks to a wounded but alive Ramon at the end is probably my newest favorite scene since the visuals are a la Haibane Renmei (hello Reki) so I can’t wait to sketch it out and really explore that idea. It also a reference to that one scene in Breaking Bad’s “The Fly,” I guess. At least, that’s what I’m going for. 

Also wondering whether or not Luca will be killed off this time around. The ending where he lives is giving me trouble, and it’d be easier to kill him off. As much as possible...I want a happy ending. It’ll be quite a ways away before I can accomplish that, though.

I feel that the more I start to focus on “Cogito Ergo Sum,” the better off “Sow Don’t Sing” will also eventually be. At this point in time however, I’m very intimidated about Project-CES, but hopefully I can forgo that fear in the nearest future. 

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 5 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Since we’re on a roll and impatient as fuck, we decided to up our posting rate! Hope you enjoy! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet gave Trixie a heads-up about Fame’s dislike of the new collection, and moved into her new apartment--where she found some very welcoming neighbors.

This Chapter: All hands on deck as Fame demands a complete reconceptualization of their Spring collection.

***

Fame swept into the office on Monday, all business, barely looking Violet in the eye as she rattled off a waterfall of orders.

Fame pulled off her coat and dropped it, nearly letting it fall on the floor before Violet dove forward to catch it.

“Have you taken care of the messages I left you over the weekend?”

Fame seemed almost frantic, her energy all over the place.

“I’m almost done Miss,” Violet folded her coat over her arm, holding out her hand for Fame’s bag. “I just need to confirm wit-”

“Good.” Fame hung her bag on Violet’s wrist, the weight almost toppling Violet over if it hadn’t been for her hours at the gym. “Have you ordered the new fabrics I talked about?”

Violet nodded. “They are on their wa-”

“And what about my new assistant?”

“Yes-” Violet reached for her desk, a stack of resumes already printed out. “I’m starting the pre-interviews tomorrow-”

“Wonderful.” Fame completely ignored Violet and the papers she was holding out, instead walking towards her office. Violet quickly disposed of Fame’s coat and bag, putting both down on her desk so she could grab Fame’s coffee and the letters for the day before she followed her.

“Remember, only perfection is accepted,” Fame instructed, settling down at her desk.

“Yes, Miss.” Violet handed her the coffee, which Fame took a single sip of before she scrunched her nose and handed it back to Violet.

“I’d like a new latte and a medium fruit salad, no pineapple.”

“Yes Miss.”

“Is that the schedule for the day?”

Violet nodded and handed her the paper.

“Also, before you go. Get Raja up here. I need to discuss the collection. That’s all,” Fame said, turning to her computer.

It wasn’t for a few minutes that Violet realized how serious Fame was about the collection change. She was standing in line at the coffee shop, checking her email, when she saw that Fame had sent one to the entire senior management team.

Subject: URGENT

All hands on deck meeting at 3 pm today to discuss a complete re-conceptualization of our Spring collection. Bring your best ideas, ready to discuss, along with samples and visual aids. Be prepared to work late.  

Violet gulped, forwarding the email to all of the applicable assistants, when another one ticked in.

Subject: Violet - Get me Pearl

***

“This is interesting, try to get a sample of the skirt done ASAP and then spruce up the sketch,” Trixie said.

Trixie had been walking around the busy design floor, checking out what his team had come up with over the weekend. Ever since getting Violet’s text last Friday, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that Fame was about to bring down a hammer, and so they needed to be prepared with new ideas.

Half of the team was working on changes and additions to their current collection. Half of them were working on entirely new concepts and ideas.

‘Remember guys,’ he’d said before they left on Friday. ‘This is a spaghetti against the wall situation. No bad ideas, time to explore everything. If it’s unique and innovative, that’s a plus. Pull out your passion projects.’

The truth was, Trixie had no idea what to expect. Fame had been silent all weekend, which made him even more nervous. Usually she’d send at least a few texts or emails. Ideas that popped into her head. A doodle on a notepad. Image references. But now, when she was allegedly questioning their whole collection? Nada.

Trixie walked over to where April was draping out an ornate sample dress in multiple shades of blue, telling her to carry on. Then he moved on to Alexis, scrutinizing the sketches on her desk with a critical eye.

“Some of these shapes are interesting, but I need you to redo them with different colors and fabrics,” he told her. “Remember, the color story is apparently the thing she’s most ambivalent about.”

“Got it,” Alexis said with a good-natured sigh, picking up a fresh pad.

“Um, Trixie?” Kandy looked up, a terrified look on her face as she hung up the phone.

“Yes?”

“Raja says to check your emails, don’t panic, and that she’s coming down to fill you in,” Kandy said.

Trixie pulled out his phone, stomach lurching as he read the email from Miss Fame, face going pale.

His worst fear had just come true: they were facing a complete reconceptualization. He looked up, forcing a smile in order to not terrify the design team even more.

“Okay,” he said, attempting to keep his voice light. “New plan...Blu, Jovan, Gia? Forget about the adjustments you were working on. We’re looking for fresh ideas, anything that you think could be a new signature piece. Everyone: the deadline is today at 3 pm.”

A small gasp rippled through the team as they realized how soon that was.

“Three pm?” Blu asked, the Irish designer looking like she might burst into tears.

“Yeah.” Trixie scanned the room again, hating the anxiety that he saw on everyone’s face, which he knew full well was not conducive to innovation. “And try to have fun. Remember, this is fashion, not heart surgery. No one’s gonna die.”  

“We might die,” Jovan muttered under his breath, ripping his current piece out of a sewing machine and tossing it onto the ground.

“It’ll be okay,” Trixie put a hand on Jovan’s shoulder. He was his oddest worker, the wrinkly brain he had coming up with the most beautiful, crazy, intricate ideas when he was left to his own devices. “I promise.” Trixie squeezed, trying to put as much conviction behind his words as he could. “Just do your best.”

***

Pearl had just settled into her chair, ready to see if anything exciting had happened on Twitter while she had been by the design department to give Trixie his lunch.

It wasn’t something she normally did, but Katya had been near heartbroken when she saw that Trixie had forgotten the lunchbox she had made him that morning, and since Pearl was a pretty damn good roommate in her own opinion, she had volunteered to deliver it.

Katya had given her a kiss and a hug as thanks before she hurried out the door, two tote bags and canvas under both arms. If Pearl didn’t love her so much, she’d be almost disgusted with how good of a human being Katya was, spending her summer as a volunteer art teacher at a community center in the Bronx.

Her beating heart was however also the reason that Pearl hadn’t been kicked out of the apartment she shared with her Trixie when he and Katya had started dating, so who was she to complain?

A polite cough came from the door just as Pearl was catching up on Olivier Rousteing’s Instagram. She turned around and came face to face with Violet.

Pearl smiled; it was always a joy to see Violet, the other always a sight for sore eyes with her almost impeccable beauty.

It was always fun to see what Violet would wear, the woman almost vintage in her style.

“Is that Gabbana?”

“Of course it’s Gabbana” Violet smoothed down her skirt, and Pearl smiled. She was the only person who Pearl knew that could wear a button up, and still look like someone begging to get fucked.

“You’re late.”

“Am I?” Pearl smirked. Violet was fun to rile up, but Fame was her favorite, one of her very best days at work happening because she had agitated her boss on purpose.

“Is this about the collection? Trixie told me Fame has officially freaked.”

Violet didn’t say anything, and Pearl almost wanted to roll her eyes.

“I’ll take that silence as a yes.”  

Violet was an annoyingly good assistant, never saying a word against Fame, always holding her tongue even when it would have been more than fair to complain.

“She wants you in her office in 10.”

“So I’m not actually late?” Pearl turned around to her iMac, seeing that the small email icon on her screen was blinking red. “Ah.”

Pearl realized that Violet had just saved her from Fame’s disappointment, but there was no way she was going to let the other know of her gratitude.

It was too early in the game for that.

“Sorry for helping you.” Violet huffed, rolling her eyes. “Here-” Violet put a folder down on Pearl’s desk. “In case you want to actually prepare-”

“Thanks Vivi.”

“Don’t call me that.”

***

“Shit.” Trixie exhaled a groan of frustration as he dumped down in his chair. He had known the email was coming, but it had still felt like a punch to the gut when he’d actually seen it.

Raja had come straight from a meeting with Fame, and Trixie had known it was bad, real bad, when he had seen how Raja’s normally ice cold exterior was chipped.

Trixie sighed, burrowing his head in his hands for a minute. He hated having to push his designers, hated forcing them to deliver in extreme conditions. A few of them thrived on it, Betty always delivering excellent work, while Aiden almost always buckled when he didn’t have time to pay attention to his details.

Trixie reached into his mini-fridge, taking the lunch Pearl had stopped by to drop off for him. It was only 10:30, but he unpacked it anyway. Katya had packed two pieces of carrot cake, a can of diet coke and as Trixie opened the metal container, the lovely smell of Katya’s best mushroom and cheese blinis greeted him.

He opened his drawer, pulling out a fork as he turned his computer on, the promise of carrot cake the only thing getting him through the avalanche of worried emails he knew was waiting for him.

***

Raja heaved a sigh as she stepped off the elevator. She’d been trying to give Trixie a warning about Fame’s current state of mind without causing the EVP of Design to freak out, but couldn’t shake the notion that she’d failed, seeing the crease in his forehead deepen the more she spoke, until she’d finally just left him with a firm pat on the back. She entered her own suite, the rich fabrics and warm colors immediately soothing her, although her relief was short-lived, since Jaida was perched on Ivy’s desk, a stern look on her face.

“I need to talk to you.”

Jaida was the most recent addition to their management team. The bright, resourceful CFO joined them almost two years ago, when Patrick stepped away from the day to day financial management to focus on his own firm. She’d truly been a godsend—immediately understanding the need for creative flexibility in their budgets, and helping to streamline the company’s organization in a way that was incredibly effective even as they grew by leaps and bounds.

But now, Jaida’s beautiful face was about the last one that Raja wanted to see. She was well-aware that Fame’s email had caused mass panic, and Jaida’s mind was probably already spinning in 100 different directions, thinking about how their timelines would now completely change the budget for Fashion Week beyond the normal contingency plan.

Raja gestured to her office, resigned to have this conversation now, and Jaida immediately sailed in, settling on the forest green velvet couch that Raven had picked out. Raja turned to Ivy, requesting some herbal tea, before joining her.

“So, Jaida, what are you brightening my day with?”

“An entire reconceptualization, Raja?”

“I’m aware that-”

“Has she completely lost it? Can’t you talk to her?” Jaida implored.

“Fame has made up her mind.”

“Ughhh!” Jaida’s hand fell into her hands.

“What a mature response-”

Raja was cut off when Shangela burst into the office. One of their longest and most loyal employees, the Director of Operations usually never panicked, taking on every challenge with an almost annoying amount of enthusiastic joy.

It was possible, Raja supposed, that she was extra annoyed by Shangela because of their failed relationship, but she liked to tell herself that that was besides the point.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Shangela exclaimed, taking a seat across from Jaida.

“I was stalking Ms. Gemini here.” Jaida pointed with her thumb.

“Shangela, you’re in my office-” Raja began.

“Listen. I just want to make sure everyone understands the situation at hand. Bendela is already asking to double the staff in the tailoring department through September, and Alyssa says that this is going to potentially triple the budget for the media campaigns, and-”

“I know! It’s a shit show!” Jaida exclaimed.

Raja closed her eyes. Where the fuck was Ivy with her tea?

“I hear your concerns, however, we haven’t even had the creative meeting yet, so don’t you think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“But Bendela says-”

“Of course she does, Shangela.” Raja sighed. Shangela was always so dramatic, but she was irritatingly good at her job.

“Bendela’s been requesting to hire more tailors for months now. That doesn’t mean that her estimate is accurate and if she truly sticks to her guns, Trixie just interviewed potential interns. I’m sure some of them can be assigned to tailoring.”

Ivy pushed her way through the door, a tray with coffee and tea for everyone in her hands.

“Right, okay, but what about-”

“We’re going to get through today, listen to what Fame has to say, what ideas everyone comes up with, and then reconvene tomorrow morning,” Raja said, gratefully accepting the tea that Ivy handed over.

“Fine,” Jaida said. “But if I were you, I’d convince Miss Fame that the current collection is brilliant.”

“You don’t think I tried that?” Raja laughed.

“Fair enough,” Jaida replied, finally letting a small giggle escape.

“Another day in paradise,” Shangela added, rising up from the couch.  

[minhoandthebabes]

prompt 3 for 2min

“I swear this isn’t blood, it’s cherries.”

Okay not gonna lie, I had fun writing this and I don’t really like 2min ;; it’s just such a fun concept!

Minho entered the small cake shop, on the outskirts of town, escaping from the cold rainy weather of early spring. The shop itself was tucked away, hidden from prying eyes and when he had arrived, he honestly felt like he was in the wrong place, but the name was the same as the one in all the papers, so he knew he had to be in the right spot. Despite its discreet appearance and humble decor, its reputation definitely gave minho high expectations. The bell rung to announce his arrival, but no one seemed to be working.

“Hello?” Minho called out, into the empty shop. “Anyone here?”

It only took a moment before a thin man slightly shorter than himself that came out from the back, licking his bright red thumb.

“Hey, sorry about that, we’re sold out.. As you can see.” The man said, gesturing to the empty displays that only contained crumbs and left over bits of pastry.

The worker wiped his thumb on his apron and Minho gulped, the red liquid was bright, far too bright and almost blood like, but once he wiped it against his black apron, it was far too difficult to tell what he had seen. With his eyes drawn to the other man’s apron, however, Minho was able to recognize that this man’s name was “Taemin” based on the nametag plastered on his chest.

The black haired man seemed to notice Minho’s concern and immediately tried to cover it up. “I swear this isn’t blood, it’s cherries,” he said defensively, “I was just pitting cherries for a pie.”

Minho nodded with a little more understanding than before and took a moment to remember just why he had entered the shop in the first place. “Um, anyway.. Can I order a cake? Do you guys do that sort of thing?”

Taemin nodded, “Of course! We can make the cake as customized as you want, or we can have it be fairly simple.. Actually, give me a moment and I’ll go get my sketch pad.”

Before Minho could stop him, the man had turned away and left Minho waiting at the counter. He honestly has no impressive plans for the cake. It was just going to be for his mom’s birthday. His job was to order the cake while his brother was going to find decorations for the house and his dad would take care of the gifts.

The reason he had chosen this bakery was for its critical acclaim. This bakery, in particular, had been given lots of prizes and apparently, the baker was famous, but no one had ever seen his face. People had theories that the chef was actually a group of bakers, others thought that it was the kid that ran the front register. After all these years, it was clear now that no one would ever know seeing as the baker wanted to remain anonymous still, even after the fame.

Taemin returned with a pencil and some paper, “You’re lucky I’m here! I’m usually the one that designs the outside of the cake.” He explained, setting down the materials on one of the small round tables in the establishment. “I’ll draw the designs and tell the chef what you want, okay?”

Minho nodded and awkwardly waddled over to where taemin sat. “I, um, wasn’t really expecting a design, how much will this cost?” He asked, sitting on the seat gingerly across from him.

Humming, Taemin tapped his pencil to his lips, “Well, depending on the size.. Let’s start with basics, what’s the size and type and filling.”

“This cake is for my mom,” Minho explained, “I think she’ll want something light.. So I guess vanilla?” He offered, still confused himself. He couldn’t believe his dad and brother put him up to this..

Taemin sighed, “There’s more to cakes than just vanilla and chocolate.. I think we should make a nice champagne cream with fresh strawberries. We can use the pink from the strawberries to decorate the outside like this..” Taemin started to explain, his hands working swiftly as he talked. He was already producing the silhouette of a two tiered cake with cascading flowers from the top that were lightly shaded pink like cherry blossoms.

Minho watched Taemin work in awe, amazed that he could come up with a design that quickly, unable to use his better judgment and realize that he may have used this same design before. He was just far too impressed with Taemin’s handiwork. When Taemin was finally finished he sat back, “So, how’s that?”

“That’s.. Amazing, how expensive would that be??” Minho asked, turning the picture so he could get a better look at it.

Taemin hummed, “Let’s say.. 70?” He said softly, “I’ve never been good with numbers.. But that doesn’t sound too bad, right? It’ll be a small cake..” He added, seeming to protect himself from being accused of selling Minho something he didn’t want. “About this high,” He explained, holding his hands out, “And this big around.. Instead of giving you one larger tier, I think two tiers would look prettier and more delicate if it’s for your mom.”

Minho nodded, “That’s perfect actually.. I didn’t realize cake could be so complicated..”

Taemin gave Minho a shrug, “Well maybe you just didn’t care enough to look into it..”

The way Taemin said it made Minho get on the defensive and he opened his mouth to speak but immediately closed it when he knew Taemin was right. He followed Taemin back to the counter, waiting patiently for Taemin to ring him up.

“Okay, so you’re going to pay 50 dollars today and pay the rest when you pick it up, just in case there’s something wrong with the cake or the price changes.” Taemin explained, “Also, please write down your phone number and the date you need the cake by.” He said, giving Minho a post-it and a flower topped pen.

After handing Taemin his card, he gave Taemin all the information he needed. Taemin finished and passed back the card. When he handed it back to him, their hands brushed briefly and Minho could feel an almost inhuman coldness coming from him. He pulled away suddenly, taking the card with him and noticed the strange look Taemin gave him, a look of confusion mostly.

“I- sorry..” he gulped, “I’ll see you next month..” he mumbled, pocketing his card and turning to leave, trying to escape the uncomfortable situation that had his cheeks heating up.

Taemin said his goodbyes but Minho never heard it, just wanting to escape.

It was a month later and Minho was headed back to the small bakery. The air was warmer now and spring had finally settled in with the wind blowing in warm air from the west, threatening to bring summer with it.

Minho was dressed in a three piece suit that he dressed down with a colorful collared shirt underneath as it was the day of his mom’s birthday, he needed to look nice for her. Later that afternoon, they would be surprising her with the cake and gifts. It was early in the morning, and while it was hell to get ready for his day that early on a Saturday, the look on his mom’s face later was going to be worth it.

The shop was bustling with people trying to snag some pastries before they sold out that day, and Minho was caught in the traffic looking for Taemin, the only face he would recognize. The only worker that seemed to be there was a short man working the register frantically, definitely too busy to talk with Minho about the cake he was supposed to pick up. He was almost tempted to leave when he felt a strong grip on his arm and was pulled behind the counter by who he only could think was Taemin. He was surprised by the abruptness of their encounter but didn’t complain knowing Taemin could be the one to help him get his cake.

Taemin pulled him into a back room and shut the door behind them. His eyes were hidden behind his black bangs, “Sorry about that,” he said, his voice a little rough, “I hate crowds..” Minho looked down at Taemin curiously, surprised that Taemin felt the need to share this information, and for some odd reason Taemin wouldn’t look him in the eye.

“Sorry about that.. Do you have my cake?” he asked curiously, noticing they were in a dimly lit office.

Taemin shook his head, “Not in here..” he said softly, looking up at Minho for the first time since they met that day. When Minho’s eyes locked with Taemin’s he felt stuck there, like he could never look away. “You need to pay first, remember..?” Taemin asked, his voice sounding like it was whispered directly in his ear as he body started to feel heavier, slipping into an odd trance.

Minho felt two hands gripping his lapels. His mind was incredibly hazy as he tried to remember where he was or what he was doing. He felt like he was lost all of a sudden. He looked down to see Taemin’s eyes focused back up on him again. The man said something indecipherable before his lips were kissing his neck. Minho didn’t know what he had done or said to deserve this, but he didn’t want it to stop and let out a low hum to encourage Taemin, his body on fire as Taemin touched and caressed him. Minho closed his eyes and relaxed against the door behind him, sure now that this was a dream, some dark fantasy that had been lurking deep in his subconscious, waiting to be released at night. He didn’t know what to do with himself and just let Taemin do what he wanted, feeling too tired and powerless to Taemin’s advances.

After a moment of Taemin sucking and kissing his neck he felt a small pin prick of pain, it felt like Taemin was biting him, yet the feeling only encouraged him more. His hands moved to rest on Taemin’s hips, pulling him closer as he sucked on his neck. He felt like he wanted to do more, but he didn’t seem to have the energy to keep going. His hands fell back to his side once he felt his crotch rubbing against Taemin’s, completely unable to hold on to him anymore. He only felt his arousal for a moment longer before the world went black.

When Minho came to, he was looking up at an anxious Taemin who was petting his head softly, his eyes looking into Minho’s.

“Oh thank god, thank god you’re okay!” Taemin said as soon as Minho’s eyes were open, “You came in to pay for the rest of the cake and just passed out! Thankfully you were close to the couch, I don’t know what I would have done if you passed out in the shop.”

Taemin’s eyes on him were almost calming, “Really? I passed out?” He said, surprised seeing as he had never passed out in the past. Minho broke the eye contact with Taemin, disappointed that he wasn’t looking at him anymore and looked down at his body, strange how it felt so weak now.. He was laying on a couch and his head was rested in Taemin’s lap, an oddly intimate position.

“Um, can I pay for that cake now..?” He asked. Minho wanted to get up and out of there, unsure of how long he had been out. He knew he had to see his mom soon and this entire situation had made him uncomfortable.

Taemin nodded and placed his hand behind Minho’s head, guiding him to sit up, “Here, stay here, I’ll go get the cake.”

Minho nodded and placed his hand on his head. He honestly didn’t remember anything, he barely remembered coming to the shop in the first place, it’s like his memories had been jumbled into a tangled knot in his mind.

Taemin returned with a cake box, it was bigger than Minho expected, but that was fine as long as the price was still reasonable. “So the cake turned out to be 75 dollars, is that okay?” He asked, “You’ll have to pay 25 more.”

“Yeah that’s fine,” Minho said, his throat dry and he cleared his throat. “I can just give you my card, right?”

“Yes, I’ll take care of it..” Taemin settled the bill where he stood using his phone and smiled at Minho. Minho tried standing now that he knew he would have to leave soon and took a moment to steady himself once he was standing fully.

Once the bill was settled, Taemin paused, holding on to Minho’s card for a moment. “Um, so.. I know this may sound abrupt.. But.. You’re really attractive. I don’t usually do this, but do you want to get a drink or something?”

In Minho’s muddled mind, he assumed Taemin was asking him to go now and tried to explain himself by letting him down easy, “Well.. I have my mom’s birthday today. It’s not anything against you, you’re cute but.. I really can’t today..” He blushed, telling Taemin he was cute felt awkward but like the right thing to say.

Taemin laughed, “I didn’t mean today! I just mean at some point.. Maybe next weekend? I don’t know. I just think meeting again would be nice.” Minho almost thought he saw a hungry look in Taemin’s eyes when he said that, but he couldn’t tell for sure with his oddly hazy mind.

“Yeah sure, that sounds fun,” He gave Taemin a warm smile, “Now if you don’t mind, I need to get home..”

“Of course,” Taemin said, handing Minho back his card. He thanked Minho for coming and for his business before sending him off.

On the train ride home, Minho felt himself drifting in and out of sleep, he knew he had woken up too early to get this cake and regretted it in this moment… hopefully, he didn’t miss his stop as he napped dozed off with the cake in his lap in the empty train car.

Later, during the party, his brother was talking with him briefly about what he had been up to at work. The conversation was casual and comfortable. Luckily at a party like this, his mom was preoccupied with guests to ask too many questions like “when will you get a girlfriend? have you gotten a raise yet?” the questions that made most uncomfortable but almost felt expected from a worried mother.

As they talked, his brother wouldn’t stop staring at his neck for some reason. The eyes made Minho uncomfortable and he started to rub at the skin. “What are you looking at?” He asked, curious, trying to find the spot his brother had his eyes on.

“Min, your neck.. Did you get bit by a spider or something?” His brother asked, reaching out to touch two small red dots on his otherwise untouched neck.

Minho hesitated, “Not that I remember..” He walked over to the front door and looked at the mirror on the wall next to it. On his neck, he could see the dots and shrugged, “Weird.. I don’t remember at all.. It must have happened when I was sleeping..” He wondered why they had appeared so late in the day, but didn’t think twice about it. Why would he?

A/N: a little explanation for the beginning because @petalsofdesire was curious ^^ Taemin is an old vampire.. like really really old, and experienced.. but he sucks at eating out of blood bags.. and when Minho entered he was having dinner and honestly wasn’t expecting anyone to come in.. but then Minho was there -_- and he had made a mess and didn’t realize it was still on his hands.. so yes, that’s how that happened :p

[dioskourixx]

In The Blood Ch.9

“So...how was you guys’ Spring Break?” I asked. Raven, Sophie, and I had met up for lunch in between classes the first day back. Himchan and Yongguk were kind of AWOL, so it was as good as time as any to talk with just us girls. Sophie was the first one to respond, speaking in between small bites of her pepperoni Hawaiian pizza.

“Mine was great actually. I had so much fun in Tennessee. Oooh! You guys should definitely come with me next time! My uncle wouldn’t mind at all. And the animals are just so darn cute! The horses are so big now since last time I saw them. Oh! And I got to see a couple of the ducklings hatch. It was so cool!” Rae and I laughed softly at our bubbly friend.

“Well then,” Rae started as she picked around her spaghetti. “Sounds like you had a rather busy and adventurous break. I’m glad you had fun. I just mostly shopped around Washington and slept in. You know, catching up on my beauty rest and what not.” She chuckled as I rolled my eyes at her last comment.

“Wait a minute. I thought you and your parents were going to go to New York. What happened?” I asked, remembering how excited she seemed for the shopping trips she was bound to have in the big city. I heard her groan.

“You know that my dad is a history geek right? Always spouting off random facts and whatnot. Well, for some reason, he felt like New York was just a place for people to become mindless zombies of sales, and figured Washington would be more enlightening and beneficial. I, of course was not happy. Mom was kind of neutral.” This time Sophie spoke up.

“Well if it’s history he was seeking, you could've tried to persuade him by mentioning the Harlem Renaissance. Lots of history and art with that argument.” Sophie sipped her drink in a matter of fact manner as Raven groaned into her hands, muttering to herself that it would’ve been genius.

“Ugh! Enough about me,” Rae declared as she stopped wallowing in self pity. “How was your Spring Break Haze?”

“Not much, actually. I mostly just sketched and read.” I could already see the disappointed looks they were giving me.

“Don’t you do that on a regular basis, Haze? Is that all you did?” Sophie was the first to speak. I took another bite of my food before I told them that I also went to see a movie.

“The one you and Yongguk were supposed to go see?” Raven asked. “How’d that go by the way?” I looked down at my plate.

“I didn’t go with him.”

“Oh really?” It was Sophie’s turn. “So, you went by yourself?” I bit my bottom lip.

“I went with Ethan actually.” Immediately there was eyebrow wagging and “ooohs” from both of them. Raven spoke up after having her fun.

“How’d that happen? How did it go??” So, I ended up recounting the whole thing. Starting with meeting him coincidentally at the sandwich shop and him tagging along with me to the sci-fi movie.

“....then he walked me back to my dorm and he kind of...kissed me.” A confused Raven looked back at me.

“So? What’s the big deal? He’s kissed you before hasn’t he? On the first date? Unless this kiss was more on the hot and heavy side. If that’s the case then I need details miss.” I scoffed at her.

“What? Of course not. It wasn’t like that. It was on the forehead.” This time Sophie spoke up.

“Then, what’s so special about this kiss Haze? I’m confused.”

“I’m not sure Sophe. It just felt different. His demeanor was different. Instead of being shy like how he was the whole night, he seemed more...confident. More bold. I’m honestly confused myself. I can’t really pinpoint him just yet.”

“Well aside from all of that, it seems like you two are getting along well.” Sophe said in between small sips of her coke.

“Yeah...it seems so.” I caught a small smile play on Raven’s lips at this revelation as she took another forkful of pasta.

I saw Yongguk the following day in class. As we prepared to start taking notes on the lecture, my phone let out a soft buzz from my back pocket. Fishing it out, I saw that I had received a text message from Ethan.

“Good morning Beautiful :)” I felt the familiar smile I seemed to get lately find its way on my lips. I quickly typed out a “good morning” back, turned my phone on mute, and set it down on my desk. The teacher had just started talking about the midterms we had taken before Spring break. Apparently she wasn’t finished with the grading, but promised to finish soon and have the grades posted by the end of this week. My phone’s screen lit up briefly, before it faded to black once more. Another text message.

“How’d you sleep?” I responded with a simple “fine,” and asked him the same. The teacher began lecturing as I placed my phone back on my desk. Yongguk proceeded to get his pen out, ready to take notes and I followed suit, taking a sip of my morning coffee I bought before class. The teacher’s voice droned on as I tried to pick out the key concepts of the lecture. About ten minutes passed by before my phone lit up again. Ethan.

“I slept fine.” Before I could type out a response, another message popped up on my screen.

“So...I sort of have a problem. Maybe you can help me.” Now this definitely piqued my interest. My fingers started dancing across my keyboard before I had time to stop myself. I mean, I was in class after all.

“What kind of problem?” I placed my phone down on my desk, once more, only this time it was face down. Hopefully, by me not seeing my phone brighten whenever I get a text, I’ll be less inclined to respond immediately. I will say, that I managed to go a good twenty minutes before I couldn’t help but to snatch my phone up and read Ethan’s next message. I managed to jot down a few notes before then though. One glance at Yongguk’s paper though, told me that I missed a good bit of key points. Bright Screen.

“So there’s this really pretty girl that I want to invite for dinner this week, but I’m a little nervous. :/” A small burst of giggles left my lips as I read the message. Is he being serious?

“Well, why are you nervous?” I typed back. I went back to try to take more notes. God knows that I missed a huge portion of the lecture. The screen lights up again.. Only this time, I ignore it. The information seems really important, and I already don’t have sufficient notes as it is. No. I need to focus. That message will be there at the end of class, but for now, I need to take notes.

I’m not exactly sure, how many minutes ticked by, as I struggled not to let my curiosity of what Ethan sent back, win. Concentrate Haze. Stop looking at the damn phone! It was only a minute after chastising myself, that I rolled my eyes in annoyance towards myself and simultaneously picked up my phone to read Ethan’s reply.

“Well, it’s because I want to cook for her, and I don’t want to mess it up. Plus, I’ve never cooked for a girl before. What if she doesn’t like it?” Why was he being so...adorable right now?

“Lol. I’m sure she will be happy with the fact that you’re even trying to cook for her. Girls tend to appreciate the effort given. As for what to cook...what does she like to eat?” I exchanged the phone in my hand for my pencil as I was about to take notes...again. That is, before I saw what time it was. There was only seven minutes left. There was absolutely no point in trying to jot down the remainder of the lecture. I just hope Yongguk pulled through this time around. Bright screen.

“I’m not sure. :/. Let’s say that you were the girl I was planning on cooking for...hypothetically speaking, of course, what would you want to eat?” I didn’t have to ponder for long.

“Pasta and salad. It’s simple, easy, and hard to mess up.” As I sent my last message, everyone around me was packing up their belongings and headed for the exit. I followed suit, placing my notebook with my half assed notes and barely used pencil inside of my backpack. Once Yongguk and I were on the outside, safe from the herd of students, I turned to Yongguk wearing what I imagine looked like a sheepish expression.

“Soooo….Any ch-” Yongguk began shaking his head in amusement and laughed at me.

“I already know what you’re about to ask me and the answer is yes. I do have good notes this time, and yes you can copy them down.” I let out a relieved breath.

“Thanks Yongguk. I was somewhat distracted today.” A wide smile found its way on his lips as he nudged me in the arm.

“Yeah, I noticed. Was it this Ethan guy? You know, I’m not sure if I can approve of him, if he’s already hindering your school work young lady.” I playfully rolled my eyes at him.

“Come on. I’ll treat you to breakfast while I copy your notes.”

“Deal. But I’m buying.” he proclaimed. I shrugged at his offer.

“Fine by me. Let’s go ‘Dad.’” I said with as much sarcasm I could muster up.

A few moments later, I was nibbling on a piece of French toast while copying the final page of  Yongguk’s notes. Yongguk sat across from me, grumbling about the amount of people that asked for his tutoring help. After a while, I guess he figured out that I wasn’t wholeheartedly paying attention to him. It wasn’t until he brought up the movie he had missed, as I finished writing the last bit of notes, that I finally looked up at him.

“I’m sorry I had to miss it,” he said, but I just waved him off. It wasn’t really a big deal after all.

“It’s fine Gukkie. I ended up going with someone else, so we’re good.”

“Oh, so what you mean is that you replaced me with some second rate being. Alright, who was it?” I shook my head at his silliness.

“I went with Ethan, actually.” I looked down at my plate of French toast, as I waited for Yongguk to say something.

“Oh really? Wait, I thought you said he was going to be out of town until the end of the break. How’d that happen?”

“I’m not sure, actually. I was just as surprised as you are. We met as I was getting food before the show. It was pleasant coincidence.”

“Hmmm...Pleasant huh? Sounds like I’m already getting kicked to the curb.” I couldn’t help but laugh as he started to pout.

“Oh shush you big baby. No one is kicking you to the curb as you like to put it. Like I said, it was a coincidence.”

We continued to talk as we moved on from the subject of Ethan. I was in the middle of laughing at some corny joke Yongguk had told, when I noticed him stiffen in his chair. My giggles died off my lips as I regained my composure. I started to ask what was wrong, until I heard a familiar voice behind, saying my name. I turned back to see Ethan standing behind me, looking casual in his plain jeans, but still handsome.

“Ethan. Hi. You remember Yongguk don’t you?”

“Of course. Nice to run into you again.” he said smoothly. Yongguk gave a quick nod.

“Yeah...you too.” Yongguk started packing his belongings and stood up from the table. Before I could ask where he was headed too, Yongguk spoke first.

“Haze, I’ll see you later, okay? I gotta get this tutoring schedule in order and stuff. I’ll text you alright?” But before I could respond, he had already started walking towards the doors that lead to courtyard outside.

“So,” Ethan began. “When’s your next class?” I looked at my phone for the time and realized that time had gone by quickly and that my next class started in half an hour.

“Then can I walk you to class? I’m not busy with anything.” He looked at me expectantly.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

With ease he picked up my bag after I had packed it and carried it while we walked.

“So, how was your break?” I asked after walking for a couple of minutes.

“It was alright,” he stated. “A little weird though. It felt like I was being watched most of the time.”

“Watched?” I asked, clearly puzzled. He laughed at my worried face.

“My dad was in the military and sometimes his PTSD and paranoia consumes him. He was very...watchful during the break. Another reason why I left earlier. But enough about that...How about dinner? At my place? I’ll cook.”

I pretended that our little text conversation hadn’t happened earlier and feigned surprise. I let out a small gasp.

“You cook?” Ethan gave me a sideways smirk before he answered.

“Sweetie, I’m full of surprises. Stick around long enough, and you might get to see them all.” Okay. To say that I was unnerved...again, would be an understatement. I don’t understand how he can go from cute, shy, and  dorky to...well, this. I found myself flustered before I was able to respond.

“Oh really? I might just have to take you up on that offer.” Ethan flashed his white teeth in his signature smile.

“Good. You won’t be disappointed. Now, come on. We gotta get you to class,” he says while slightly picking up the pace.

[crystallinekingdom]

"Are you scared? ... Then why won't you look at the screen?" (Prompt)

hey this got a little long… also im sorry it took 2 days

Movie Night

Taako’s sprawled out on the couch in their suite, painting his nails a shimmering blue and watching the world below through the now-exposed porthole that makes up most of the living room’s floor, when his Stone of Farspeech starts ringing where he left it on the coffee table.

He had expected this to be a quiet day. Apparently, in the aftermath of saving the world, nobody cares if you take a few extra days off work - Merle was planetside visiting his kids, while Magnus had gone to spar with Killian and Carey.

Whilst attempting to grasp for his Stone with semi-wet paint all over his nails, Taako drops the bottle of polish onto the counter, and the device is suddenly covered in tacky blue sparkles. He curses three different gods as he brings it up to his ear, inwardly praying that the person at the other end isn’t Brad ready to lecture him for thirty minutes about his use of expletives and how it isn’t beneficial to a teamwork environment.

It’s not. His sister’s voice crackles through the speaker, muffled by bad reception but still audible, and a grin spreads across his face.

“How’s it hanging, dork?” Lup asks. Taako can hear gravel crunching under her feet as she walks.

“Just chilling up here. What are you and the nerd up to, do-gooding in some random village again?” Lup and Barry had not been as blasé about the aftermath of the apocalypse as him and the boys - every day they were assisting a cleanup effort somewhere, trying to get areas that had been hit hard by the Hunger back in working order.

“Not today, actually, and that’s why I called. We aren’t scheduled to be in Goldcliff till Wednesday morning, which gives us, like, a day and a half free. Figured we’d drop by the moonbase and say hi. Want to hang out, or do you have better things to do?”

“No can do, sis, I’m busy curing cancer and making shoes for orphans - of course I’m down to hang out, who do you think I am? What time are you gonna be up here?”

“I just summoned a sphere, so.” The audio crackles a bit as she pauses, presumably to check her watch. “Around six, give or take?”

“Hell yeah. I’ll be in the suite. See ya then, goofus.” Taako puts the stone in his pocket, taking care to cap the bottle of blue polish on the table before hefting himself off the sofa.

The glass face of the clock on the wall has a large crack down its middle, but he can still make out a time that’s somewhere around 4:50 p.m. Enough time to whip something quick up, he thinks as he makes his way over to the kitchen.

Taako is halfway through mixing a bowl of dough for a yet-unfinished batch of glazed lemon cookies before he hears a light knock at the door. It’s much earlier than the ETA Lup had given him, but he trudges over, leans against the wall with one batter-sticky hand, and looks through the peephole.

In the hallway is Angus, newsboy cap slightly askew and clutching his wand to his chest. Taako is momentarily taken aback until he remembers what day of the week it is. Oh, shit. Monday is magic day.

He unlocks the deadbolt and pushes the door open with a flourish, feigning ignorance as to why the kid is here. “Hey, Django. What brings you to our neck of the woods?”

“Hello, sir!” Angus shifts from one foot to the other. “Uh, I’m sorry to trouble you, but I was just wondering if our magic lessons are, um, still a thing that’s happening? I mean, I totally understand if you’re busy, or if you’re finished training me now that I’m done being a Seeker and not really useful to you guys anymore, or-”

Taako cuts him off with a wave of his hand. “Sorry, kiddo. Don’t think we’re going to be able to do a lesson today.” Angus’s face falls and he opens his mouth to say something, but Taako continues, “Lulu and Barold are coming up for the day. Want to stick around and ask them all those nerd science questions you’ve been asking me? Might even be some baked goods in it for ya.”

He leaves the door open and turns around to retreat back into the kitchen, catching Angus’s “Th-thank you so much!” and the sound of the door shutting, then small footsteps following him inside.

“Now that you’re here, bubbeleh, I’m gonna have to put you to work. Child labor isn’t illegal if it’s on the moon,” Taako says, lightly clapping Angus on the back. “Want to go grab me a half tablespoon of vanilla extract so I can add it to this sick batter?”

Lup and Barry open the door an hour later to the sight of cookies left to cool on the stovetop and Taako sitting on the couch with Angus, teaching him some particularly nasty Fantasy Yiddish curses.

After a bout of small talk (considering the twins have fallen back into their old habit of constantly keeping tabs on each other for blackmail material, there isn’t much catching up to do) and a brief trip back to Lup and Barry’s makeshift moonbase quarters, Barry lays out a stack of old DVD cases on the kitchen table in front of Angus.

“It’s my movie collection from back on the Starblaster”, he explains. “First thing I salvaged once we got the ship back up here. We haven’t seen any of these in at least a decade, so take your pick, kiddo.”

Angus takes his time opening each plastic case and reading the blurb on the back. By the time he’s done, the other three are in an angry debate over the Fantasy Star Wars prequels (“They give context for episodes four through six, you uncultured swines!”), and Angus has to throw the case he’s chosen at Taako’s head to get their attention.

Taako looks at the case - Fantasy Alien. He briefly questions whether the whole chestburster thing is too frightening for an eleven year old boy, until he realizes that said eleven year old boy has fought eldritch abominations and been thrown off the back of a moving train. So much for childhood innocence.

“Good choice, Agnes,” he says, twirling the case in his hand.

Twenty minutes later, the lights are off and they’re all piled onto the couch under a knit throw covered in yellow embroidered ducks. Barry’s got an arm around his girlfriend and is staring at the screen with an expression of childlike wonder, Lup is whispering suggestive comments into Taako’s ear between mouthfuls of cookie, and Angus…

As the characters onscreen argue about what to do with the young halfling lying on the operating table with a squid-alien-thing on his face, Angus’s eyes are anywhere but on the action. The blanket is wrapped tightly around him up to his chest, and he’s staring directly into it.

Taako wrestles his right arm free from where Angus had pinned it while leaning on him and uses it to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Are you scared?” he asks softly. Maybe Angus is more squeamish than he’d thought.

“Oh, no, sir! If this were a real mission, they would have listened to containment protocol and prevented all this from happening. This whole situation could have been avoided if not for the sake of dramatic irony!” Angus responds, without looking up from his blanket cocoon.

“Then why won’t you look at the screen?” Taako lightly noogies him, then tugs on Angus’s piece of the blanket.

Out falls a small spiral-bound notebook with blue and silver trim, hitting the floor face-up with a small thump. Honestly, Taako doesn’t know what else he expected - he reaches down to pick it up, and surveys the page it opened up onto.

Below some indecent Fantasy Yiddish phrases (he’s both proud of the kid and terrified Lucretia will come after him once she hears Angus using said phrases in conversation) is a detailed sketch of a spacecraft. It’s surrounded by liner notes, detailing the workings of each part of the craft, its name - SS Nostromo - and physics equations describing what looks to be its capability for interstellar travel.

“Woah, is this the ship from the movie?” Taako asks.

“Yes, um. I’m sorry for not paying attention, I just thought it was a really interesting concept and-”

“Angus. It’s really dang good. Consider me thoroughly impressed.”

“Thank you!” Angus grins. “I’m just wondering, I know the Starblaster was made for hopping between dimensions, but did it have the raw power required for regular-old third dimensional travel on a larger scale like in this movie? Like, interstellar spaceflight?”

Lup, who has apparently been paying more attention to this whisper-conversation than Taako would have thought, turns towards Angus and wipes a few stray crumbs off her face. “See, the thing with bond energy is that because it’s freakin’ everywhere, it only takes a small core to process a huge amount of it. That’s how we could use such a small exploratory vessel. Of course, traveling in five dimensions takes a lot more power than in three, but if you factor in gravity and antimatter-”

Taako cranks up the volume on the television just as Barry shifts to face them, presumably to point out some obscure law of astrophysics. Adorable. They should set up their own little think tank. Taako smiles fondly at them as they continue their conversation, his face lit by the dim glow of the screen, then turns back around just as the alien bursts out of the halfling’s chest.

By the time the credits roll, both Angus and Barry are out cold - Angus holding his notebook and curled up against Taako’s chest, Barry clutching a throw pillow with a picture of a corgi on it. Lup has extricated herself from the cuddle pile and is raiding his pantry, and Taako is trying to figure out the best way to reach for the remote without waking up the two nerds asleep on his couch.

“You know,” Lup calls out from the kitchen, “I still feel kinda bad about blowing up his macaroons. He’s a good kid. You think it’d be cool if I made it up to him by baking him some more?”

Taako looks down at Angus, takes off his glasses, and places them on the coffee table. “I think he’d like that a lot.”

[lydiastormborn]

title: a blast from the past

ship: jaykyle

summary: jason gets kyle's friends to talk about his early days as a green lantern. It ends up being really embarrassing. kyle retaliates by roping jason's siblings into calling out his past costume choices.

as they say, all is fair in love and dragging your significant other down.

a/n: @ anon who encouraged me to write this: thanks have fun with this meta shitpost callout fic

[on ao3]

After all this time, Kyle should know Jason better than that. He should have expected something like this.

His first indication is the fact the apartment isn’t quiet when he gets back; by all means, Jason should be already out on a patrol. Then Kyle notices an impressive collection of shoes and jackets in the hallway, which are definitely not his or Jason’s, and he slowly creeps into the brightly lit living room.

Guy is the first one to take note of him. “Hey, talk of the devil! Look who finally came.”

Kyle squints at the faces that turn into his direction, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. Guy and John look way too comfortable sitting in a couple of armchairs Kyle is pretty sure Jason got from a garage sale; Jason himself is seated on a couch between Connor and Donna, on whose left there’s Roy.

Kyle doesn’t have a good feeling about this, but he tries to play along anyway. He quirks an eyebrow.

“Is it my birthday today or something?” he jokes, glancing at a table full of various snacks and beverages. Jason can be a surprisingly good host if he wants to.

Jason gives him a toothy grin that worries Kyle. “You wish,” he says. “It’s just, you know how you always tell me I should try to make nice with your friends?”

“Actually, I mentioned that maybe once --”

“So this is me. Making nice. Having a little chat,” Jason explains, stretching his legs under the table.

“Really,” Kyle says flatly, not buying it. “Strange how you failed to mention it’s happening tonight. Also, you’ve literally known Donna and Roy longer than I have.” When Jason just shrugs, completely unbothered, Kyle sighs and makes himself a puffy, comfortable armchair; their apartment is rather sparse when it comes to furniture. They rarely have so many guests at once.

“I suppose Wally isn’t coming?” Connor asks then and Kyle almost falls off his seat.

Jason cocks his head. “Oh, West? I called, but he’s pretty busy tonight. Said maybe he’ll drop by, but it’s unlikely.”

Roy laughs. “You should be happy. All this food would be already gone.”

“Yeah, probably.” Jason looks back to Kyle and he’s smirking again. It’s starting to become unnerving. “He told me some interesting things, though.”

“So, what are you guys talking about, again?” Kyle tries, feeling awfully out of loop.

“Jason wanted to hear some stories from your early days as GL,” John tells him mildly.

This is… not really what Kyle expected. He’s confused.

“Specifically, he asked for embarrassing stories,” Guy clarifies with a shit-eating grin.

“Like, I knew you were a loser from the moment I met you, but the things I’ve heard today, wow.” Jason shakes his head. “There’s so much I didn’t know.”

Oh. Okay, this isn’t looking stellar, Kyle supposes.

“Yeah, before you came I was talking about what an irresponsible greenhorn you were during your short tenure with Titans,” Roy says and snorts. “Coming on time? Taking training seriously? These were strange concepts to you.”

“Well, and you had a dumb costume back then,” Kyle says before he can think better of it.

Roy crosses his arms over his chest. “Oh, getting cheeky, Rayner? This much haven’t really changed.”

“He did have some problems with authority and keeping quiet when he should, didn’t he?” Jason asks, turning to Connor.

“Well, that’s true,” Connor says because he’s honest like that. “Kyle was… rather a hothead. So much that he re-defined who’s the impulsive one in Green Arrow and Green Lantern’s team ups.”

“Come on, I wasn’t that bad,” Kyle protests on a principle.

Connor looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “And that time we went looking for you father? That was a fiasco on many fronts, if not all.”

Kyle winces at the mention of that; it kind of really was.

“Including when you tried to show me how to flirt, I’d say. It almost got us arrested.”

Oh, no. He remembers that, too.

Jason looks intrigued. “Care to tell that story?”

“There was this waitress. Christie, I think,” Connor starts, easily ignoring Kyle’s throat slash gesture. “When she brought our orders, Kyle took his shake from her and held her hands in his to warm them up.” Guy snorts into his cup. “He said something about never listening much to what other people have to say, but that he’d be willing to give her a chance to… convince him.” Roy is outright giggling now. “They were interrupted by her father who was from the police, though. That’s how we ended up getting into a fight with police officers.” Connor tilts his head to the side and sighs. “I admit, I had no romantic experience back then, but I found this display somewhat strange and uncomfortable to watch.”

“Someone’s flirting skills just got dragged,” Roy comments over the laughs and Kyle knows his face is red.

“For the most part, whenever Kyle, Wally and I would go out somewhere, and there would be women, it usually ended up backfiring at us somehow,” Connor adds.

“Oh, come on, you literally didn’t have to do anything and they were all over you, anyway!” Kyle exclaims.

Donna’s eyebrows raise. “That’s petty, Kyle. Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

“Honestly, though, can you blame him for thinking with his dick sometimes?” Guy asks blatantly.

“You’re so not helping my case right now,” Kyle tells him, pinching the bridge of his nose. He turns to John who remained quiet through the antics. “John, back me up. I wasn’t that bad, right?”

John, looking slightly amused, says, “You know I have nothing bad to say about the work you did as Green Lantern then, Kyle.” And as Kyle lets himself feel a twinge of hope, John continues, “I do remember the first time we met out of costumes, though.”

Right. Kyle can’t have nice things.

“Ah, I remember that as well,” Donna says with an acute grin. Kyle turns to her with a pleading expression; at one hand, he’s glad they’re past their, well, past and can bring up things from that time, but he’d prefer if she didn’t do it right now. “Your neighbor Allison seemed quite keen on posing for you in nude, didn’t she?”

Guy dramatically gasps and Roy chokes on his drink. Jason looks affronted. “Seriously, Kyle?” he asks, disbelief clear in his voice. “Doing something like that while you were in a relationship? With Donna, out of all people?”

“It was just an artistic exercise!” Kyle stresses even though this excuse sounds as weak as it had back then, if not weaker.

“And then you said something like, ‘Well, I’d feel better about finding you with some attractive naked guy if you had a sketch pad in your hands’,” Donna adds, doing quite a good impression of Kyle’s voice.

He sometimes regrets his friends have such good memory just as much as he regrets the things that came out of his mouth.

“Okay, this happened, I can’t deny,” he says eventually, running a hand through his hair. “And thinking back to it, I realize it looked bad…”

“Just like that time I came to find Jade hanging off of you as your new flatmate?” Donna asks, not pulling her punches.

Kyle doesn’t even know how to counter that. It’s good Donna missed that part where he found Jenny under his shower and later had a fight with her brother over a misunderstanding concerning her underwear.

He winces internally. These things really make him look bad, now that he looks back to them.

“Wow,” Jason says, tapping fingers against his thigh. “I really would have felt an urge to kick your fuckboy ass if I knew you back then, wouldn’t I?”

Roy laughs. “Yeah, I have a feeling you two wouldn’t like each other very much.”

“Luckily for us, Kyle grew up since then,” Donna says with a small smile. Kyle takes it for what it is; if Donna wanted to, she could have brought up more things from the time they dated.

“We all make mistakes,” Connor adds.

“Green Lanterns more than most of us, apparently” Jason comments dryly. To John and Guy, he says, “No offense.”

Both sullen and embarrassed, Kyle watches as their guests start leaving, pointedly ignoring their jabs and goodbyes. Jason gets to cleaning up the table; it seems like he’s in far too good spirits as for someone who just found out about a lot of cringeworthy shit his boyfriend used to do. It annoys Kyle.

“Are you going to sit in your fake armchair and sulk all night?” Jason asks finally, standing in front of Kyle with his hands on his hips.

“You did this because I forgot to clean the bathroom this week, right?” Kyle asks instead, after turning it over in his head.

If anything, Jason looks even more amused. “Try again,” he tells him.

“Was it because I crashed your patrol with Robin and Lark the other night? I swear I didn’t actually mean it this time.” Jason shakes his head. “Okay, so… because I painted memes on your back when you were drunk last week and then shared it on snapchat?” Kyle risks asking.

Jason blinks. “You did that?” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Well, I guess it explains the texts I got the next day.”

“Come on, I’m running out of ideas here,” Kyle says. “Like, it can’t be because I accidentally mentioned to Alfred I found your secret cigarette stash?” Kyle narrows his eyes when Jason remains quiet. “Oh my God, it’s that?”

“Ding-ding, someone hit a jackpot,” Jason announces in a deadpan voice.

Kyle throws his hands up. “It was over a month ago!”

“Didn’t you know? I can hold a grudge. Ask Bruce. And besides,” Jason adds, jabbing a finger at him, “since I don’t smoke anymore, it’s not a secret stash, it’s an emergency stash and you outed me like that, to Alfred, no less. Geez, Kyle, thanks for nothing.”

“I literally can’t believe you,” Kyle tells Jason as he starts walking towards the bedroom.

“Right back at you, mister ‘there are guys who make embarrassed to have a Y-chromosome, but I’m not like those jerks’,” Jason calls back without even turning around.

It takes Kyle a moment to place this particular blast from the past. Once he does, he facepalms. “Damn, Donna,” he mutters under his breath.

And because he’s a responsible adult, Kyle, still sitting in his comfy, not-real armchair, starts plotting his revenge.

…

When Jason steps into the living room at the Manor, he does a double take and feels a strong urge to leave immediately.

The long table from the dining room was moved in at some point, so Kyle, Tim, Dick and Damian, sitting behind it now, look more like a jury than anything else. On one of the sofas, propped up on some cushions, there’s Cassandra, reclining like a cat, and she waves at Jason with a grin upon spotting him. He narrows his eyes at her and turns his attention back to the table.

“Well, this looks like a staged intervention,” he comments dryly, leaning on the doorframe. “I have no idea for what reason, though.”

“Close, but that’s not it,” Dick answers airly. “It’s a bit late for an intervention, in all honesty.”

“But it’s not too late for a… discussion,” Kyle adds and Jason has a hunch what “discussion” means in this case. “About some of your rather misguided costume choices.”

Jason blinks at them once, twice, then starts laughing. “Hey, seriously? This is how you want to get back at me? Couldn’t you come up with something better? I mean, you realize who you’re sitting with, right?” Jason gestures to Dick who, to his credit, doesn’t even move, except for a tiny twitch of a muscle in his jaw. “I’d say this merry company will make this whole show lose some of its credibility.”

“Stop using Grayson’s dark fashion past as means of distraction, Todd,” Damian says, straightening in his seat. He still looks relatively small compared to the others. “We’re here to discuss yours.”

“Okay, well then, squirt. Hit me up with what you’ve got,” Jason states cheerfully, walking into the room and taking a seat in one of the vacant chairs. “I mean, it’s not like you’re gonna drag me for the Robin suit, are you? Not my fault Tim was the first one to actually show some, you know, common sense and campaign for actual pants.”

“Yeah, that was wise,” Tim agrees thoughtfully. “But that wouldn’t be fair indeed. The costumes that came after, though, they were all up to you, weren’t they?”

“I guess,” Jason answers, careful now.

“Great,” Dick agrees and opens -- is that a folder? “Remember when you came back to Gotham to become a crime lord? Dressed like that, no less.” He flashes a picture.

Jason smiles a little, almost nostalgic. “Ah, right. Those were the times.” Then, he glowers at them. “Hey, but I will have you guys know this was a look, okay? Minimalistic, sure, with a black leather jacket, but still.”

“Ignoring the fact it doesn’t look like it did much as a protection factor,” Damian comments, glancing at the photo, “I suppose this… outfit was the least heinous out of the ones you wore back in time.” The others nod.

“Hey, what’s that supposed --” Jason starts, but Tim cuts him off.

“Anyway, are we going to talk about that time when Jason was posing as Nightwing in New York? We don’t have pictures, but --”

“No,” Jason and Dick say in unison. Kyle’s eyebrows climb high on his forehead. Tim and Damian stare, visibly confused.

Jason makes an eye contact with Dick and is briefly thankful this is something they both agree on.

Dick clears his throat. “It would do no good to bring that up,” he says, his expression somewhat pained. “Let’s just say that Jay looked okay… till a point, I guess,” he finishes lamely. Jason grits his teeth quietly.

“Okay, that was weird, but maybe I don’t want to know the details,” Tim states after a moment of prolonged silence and shuffles through some pictures. He pulls one. “Hey, remember your murder Batman outfit?”

Jason groans. “Well, now I do, unfortunately.”

“What kind of a cowl was that supposed to be?” Damian sneers. “Like a close helm. You did take the knight part to the heart, didn’t you?”

“Glowing eyes were such an overkill,” Dick muses.

“Well, okay, I can admit it was kind of bad.” Jason throws his hands up in the air. “But I didn’t trouble myself with fancy designs then, alright?”

“But you sometimes take time with your costumes,” Tim says, almost nonchalantly. “I mean, that time you came to Titans Tower to kick my ass?”

Jason feels his eyes go comically wide when he realizes what Tim is referring to. He leans out of his chair. “No, hang on, that didn’t happen like that --”

“Oh, but it did,” Tim interrupts and, sure enough, flashes another photo.

“Now, this is a photoshop or something --”

“No, it’s not, Donna confirmed that,” Dick says without missing a beat.

“Traitor,” Jason whispers and glares when Tim speaks up again.

“You know, I’ve always wondered, did you sew the costume yourself? Like, I know they sell adult-sized Robin uniforms...”

(“They do?” Damian perks up. “What for? Shouldn’t we charge money for that?”

Kyle coughs. “You’re probably too young to know.”)

“...but it didn’t really look like one of the manufactured ones.”

Jason closes his eyes for a moment and sighs internally. So this is how it feels like when your past comes back to haunt you. He’s almost sorry for doing that to Kyle the other day.

“If you must know,” he says finally, “I did sew it myself. The ones they sell are usually of such a shitty quality, it’d probably tear at a stitch before I even threw one punch.”

“I knew it,” Tim mutters triumphantly and isn’t that kid just plain weird.

“Well, that was kind of extra,” Dick states, scratching his chin. “Then again, it’s Jason we’re talking about, so…”

“Dickie, you wanna go?” Jason offers lightly.

Kyle snaps his fingers. “Well, I wasn’t around for most of these, but here’s a thing that tagged along from our multiverse trip.” He points at something which Jason thinks is a sketch.

Tim makes a displeased noise in the back of his throat. “I thought we agreed we’re not bringing in Red Robin,” he says, irritated. “I am wearing it now.”

“Yeah, but it kind of suits you, I guess?” Kyle tilts his head to the side. “I mean, except for the fact it looks like a rip-off of Dr. Mid-Nite.”

Jason snickers. “Still better than comparing the cowl to a dil--”

“Jason,” Dick says, a warning in his voice.

Tim’s expression is pinched. “Is that what you guys think of it? Really?”

“Well, then again, you can’t be exactly blamed for that,” Jason says, shrugging. “It’s another mantle you picked up after me. Like, haven’t you had an original idea in your life, kid?”

“To be fair, you weren’t the one who came up with it, either,” Kyle butts in before Tim has a chance to snap.

Dick looks pensive. “Actually, you’re the one who kept claiming already used identities, Jay. I mean, Robin, Nightwing, Red Robin, Batman? Even the Red Hood.”

Jason opens his mouth to argue, then closes it, and opens it again. Eventually, he grumbles, “Are you done having fun at my expense?”

“Never,” Damian replies with a smirk. In a dramatic move that probably runs in his blood, he selects another photo and throws it across the table. “We have this atrocity left.”

“Oh, yeah,” Dick agrees. “That was bad. Like, real bad.”

“As the Internet would say, cursed outfit,” Tim adds.

“You’re talking about the one I had when Dickie was running around as Batman?” Jason asks, running a mental check in his head. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Kyle stares at him. “I mean, disrespecting white-red-black color scheme like that, Jason? It hurts my eyes to even look at the pictures.”

“That skull at the front… Was it supposed to give off, like, metal vibe or something? It kind of made you look emo,” Tim continues flatly.

“And the cape going with it was just tasteless,” Damian states. “Shouldn’t be there in the first place.”

“Plus, red guns, they were really tacky. And the worst of all, the helmet.” Dick massages his temple. “How the hell could you think it was a good idea? You criticize Tim’s cowl, but do you know how bad this looked like? It was hard to take you seriously, I swear.”

“Later I changed the helmets and ditched the cape,” Jason tries to defend himself.

“Well, yeah, thanks to that you went from absolutely terrible to still terrible.”

“Like, seriously, Jason, this is a whole lot of bad costume choices,” Tim says, gesturing to the pile of pictures all over the table. “What even did you do with these things?”

Jason shrugs. “Most of them I keep in a storage I have in East End --”

“That’s what you keep there?” Kyle asks, shock audible in his voice.

“Among stuff like weapons, yeah.” Jason looks at him, frowning. “And what did you think I keep there?”

“I don’t know, another library of books? Old motorbikes? Not monstrosities like these.”

At that, Cassandra laughs. Truth be told, Jason forgot she was even in the room with them, with how quiet she kept through this… ordeal. He looks in her direction and freezes.

“Cass,” he says calmly, evenly. “Is that a camera?”

“Yes.” She pats the device propped up on one of the cushions. “Recorded for Stephanie and Barbara.”

Jason gets up from the chair. “Cass, give me that camera,” he says, still eerily calm. She grabs it, jumping over the backrest, one eyebrow raised in a challange. Jason adds, “Please.”

“Sorry, little brother, but no,” Cassandra answers and a moment later, she’s already across the room. Jason is fast, but not as fast as her; in the doorframe, he almost collides with Alfred.

“Master Jason,” the butler says, a hint of disapproval in his voice.

“Sorry, Alfie, but this is a matter of my dignity,” Jason explains hurriedly, trying to pass him. Alfred only arches an eyebrow just like Cass had moments ago. There’s a slam of the door somewhere down the hallway.

“Not that I do not find this matter important, of course, but I believe, sooner or later, we must face consequences of our actions. Besides,” he adds, over the roaring of an engine coming from the outside, “I believe this is a sound Miss Cassandra driving away with Master Duke.”

Jason swears loudly and turns back to his boyfriend and brothers who are laughing shamelessly (even Damian, that little demon, can’t hold back a grin). He honestly hopes they all end up falling off their chairs on their sore asses.

“You better hope you get a call up to space, Rayner,” Jason says sweetly. “In case you forgot, we’re scheduled for our monthly sparring session day after tomorrow and you’re gonna get your ass handed to you six ways to Sunday. And you won’t like it, I assure you.”

…

(bonus.)

A few days later, battle dust has mostly settled and the morning finds Kyle in the kitchen, making pancakes. He’s humming a song and it takes him a moment to realize someone is standing behind him. He turns around, ring ready.

“Shit!” he exclaims, almost dropping the spatula. “Artemis? What are you doing here? How did you even get inside?”

“Magic, of course,” the Amazon says, like it’s obvious. Well, Kyle supposes it is. “Is the Little One here?” she asks with a strange, almost pained expression on her face.

“Yeah, in the shower.” Kyle frowns. “Did something happen? Should I get him?”

“No, by all means,” she replies immediately. He is confused until Artemis asks, “Do you know the location of his storage?”

Kyle stares at her for a moment and snorts. “I take it you’ve seen the video.”

“Pictures as well.” She clenches her jaw. “Some of these things need to be disposed of immediately. Bizarro and I will see to it.”

“But you won’t destroy like, everything, right?” Kyle asks, just to make sure; he’s already sold on the idea.

Artemis gives him a flat look, one that reminds Kyle that as much as he may like Jason’s teammates, he keeps his distance for a reason. He rattles off the address.

“Thank you. Your cooperation is appreciated,” Artemis says.

“This conversation never took place and I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kyle responds easily and turns around to flip a pancake. He thinks he hears Artemis chuckle before she’s gone again.

Jason is gonna kill him for this, sure, but at least Kyle will go out doing the world a favor.