#THANK YOU AVS PHOTOGRAPHER

[pensherosjourney]

the epic romance of scoring a shg 💞 avs @ wild, 9 january 2025

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Nik flies. Ghost pines. Price... considers.

cw: hints of a future polyamorous relationship.

“Whit's he daein'?” Soap asked, folding his arms and legs as he watched Nik in the near distance.

Price looked up from the report in his lap, roll up twitching between his lips. Nik was pacing back and forth, fists, hands and arms moving in rhythmic, practised motions in front of his chest, by his hips, occasionally twisting behind him. But there was no opponent, only the imaginary one in Nik's head in the shape of the jet he was about to fly. “Shadowboxin.”

“Aye, ah c’n see tha’, sir. How come?”

Simon shifted on Price's right. He had been watching Nik with a palpable hunger. Even with his mask, the intensity of his gaze was hard to miss. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost husky. Like he was wading out of deeper, warmer thoughts. “Trainin’ exercise to practice his spatial awareness, coordination, and muscle memory before gettin’ in the cockpit. That thing ain’t his Black Hawk. Whole different animal. Second fastest jet in service.”

“That thing? S’massive. Na wey it kin shift. He'd ‘ave more fun in an F-15.”

The Foxbat was the size of a World War II heavy bomber — nine feet longer than an Avro Lancaster, two and a half feet taller than a B-24 and with a gross weight almost twenty-seven thousand pounds heavier than a Boeing B-17. Price had seen old black and white photographs on Nik's phone of Soviet technicians servicing the damn thing; they’d looked like toy soldiers scurrying around in its shadow.

The ride in the MiG-25 was a gift from Laswell as a thank you for Nik's help on a black op. Not even Price knew much about it, but it had to have been gnarly for her to pull this many strings. The Foxbat was fully fuelled and Nik's flight plan had been filed. Nik was going to throw that tank of an aircraft around the skies like he was twenty-two again, and he'd been vibrating with excitement during the walk out.

“Big man, big plane,” Simon murmured, “and he's got’a special attachment to it, even though it's a bit shite.”

Price plucked his cigarette from his mouth and tapped the ash onto the concrete by his thigh, considering Simon closely. There had been a change in him recently, especially around Nik. He spent a lot of time watching Nik - all out staring, as Simon was prone to do - standing close to him during briefings, finding reasons to talk to him in down time. He was flirting without realising it. Price knew why. Nik had told him about the hair incident, and asked whether there was any possibility of enticing Simon into a little more.

Honestly? Price had laughed at the time. ‘Better chance of gettin’ a gobby off of Makarov’ had been his exact words. But now that he had watched Simon around Nik for a month, he wasn't so sure his initial assessment was accurate. Even now, his body was enticed towards Nik. His arms were folded but his posture was open, upper back against the wall but hips in Nik's direction, his feet spread, shifting and twitching like there was something bubbling beneath his skin.

“Oh aye? Why's he so keen on it then?” Soap asked, giving Simon the side eye. The sergeant wasn't thick; he'd seen it too.

“Foxbat scared the Americans shitless during the Cold War. They got these spy satellite photos showin’ that beast, engine intakes the size of small cars. Big wings, potential for more maneuverability ‘an the F-4 Phantom II. But a pilot called Viktor Belenko defected and showed her to be a dud. Wife divorcin’ him, disaffected with communist society. In 1976, he left his sortie and went to Japan. Landed at Hakodate, overran the runway, shut down with only thirty seconds of fuel remainin’. Handed ‘em a brand new Foxbat and a fockin’ trainin’ manual to dissect.”

Simon rattled it all off without pause, and Price had to fight his grin to keep his expression passive. Well, that bloody well confirmed it. Simon had hyperfixated on the plane that Nik treasured. There were probably several more encyclopedias worth of knowledge on the damn thing in his head, ready to use with Nik later. That was how Simon tried to connect with people; shitty jokes and learning about them through what they loved.

“‘Ow the fuck d’ye know all that?” Soap asked, smirking. He'd sussed it too.

“I read,” Simon said dryly. “Try it some time.”

“Och, baltic, sir.” Soap sniffed, head tilting the other way. “So, he feels some kinda kindred spirit with Belenko.”

Simon shrugged. “Maybe. Or he's a fockin’ plane nerd and flyin’ that thing would be like the old man wankin’ over those Nortons at Bletchley Park.”

“Yeah, wondered when it'd be my turn,” Price growled, rolling his eyes.

“At least it dunnae need a drip tray and a prayer to stay together, eh?”

“Ya tolkin’ about Price or the bikes?” Simon's head lolled to the side as he spoke, tone rife with wry amusement.

Soap cackled, and Price slapped the folder closed in his lap. “Olrigh’, can it, ya muppets.”

“Aye, sir. Ah, look, mus’ be his slot.”

They watched the Foxbat taxi down the runway under the direction of the flight crew, their exaggerated hand gestures and bouncing completely alien to the three soldiers sitting by the hanger but clearly recognisable to Nik, who made a hand gesture in return before he looked forward.

Price returned his cigarette to his mouth, leaning back to watch Nik climb the jet as the flight crew assembled. Time to take off. Nik bounced a little on his toes before he hauled himself up to the cockpit, shoving the headset and helmet on, aviators still in place because Nik was absolutely permitted his cornier foibles. This was a dream come true for him. Laswell had outdone herself.

Price grabbed the ear defenders nearby and chucked another set across to Soap; Simon was already prepared. The engines roared into life, making the air shimmer with heat and power, and the big jet accelerated down the runway, leaving the tarmac in one of the smoothest take offs Price had ever seen. Well, of course it was; it was Nik after all.

The Foxbat disappeared above the clouds quickly and Price glanced over at Simon. He didn't move until the grey smudge reappeared against the open skies further to the east. The jet rolled and banked, ascending almost vertical for a stall turn that made even Price's belly do a little flip. It shot back past the hanger, the sound of its engines lagging behind its visible position as Nik pushed it hard. Price wished he could hear Nik whooping and rambling in Russian; air traffic control were probably feeling a little uneasy.

Simon never dropped his chin. He remained stoic, his arms folded, but his mind was up in the clouds with Nik. They both were. The difference was that Price knew he would be unzipping that flight suit later and enjoying everything underneath, whereas Simon would deprive himself for fear of being hurt, no matter how much he wanted it. Price hummed, stubbing out his cigarette. Perhaps it was time to indulge Nik’s curiosity, and his own carefully managed and suppressed feelings. Simon wasn't the only one who had denied the obvious for self preservation.

Eventually, the flight had to come to an end. Nik brought the Foxbat down gently, the landing gear screeching against the tarmac briefly as Nik negotiated the short runway. He taxied back round to park her almost exactly where he had pulled away from, and Price smirked as the cockpit popped open and a jubilant Russian bounced up with a roar of triumph, big arms in the air.

Ghost stooped down to his bag and Price heard the tinkle of glass as he removed his ear defenders. Simon clutched four empty glasses in his big hands and jutted his chin at the Foxbat as he glanced down at Price. “Comin’?”

“Lead the way,” Price said, grunting as he rolled to his feet.

“Ey, where's the liquor?” Soap asked as he followed.

“Mechanics used t’ call this thing the Flyin’ Restaurant,” Price said. “The air-conditioning relies on evaporation of distilled water an’ about two hundred and forty litres of pure grain alcohol. She's still got some’uv the brew in her tank."

Soap’s nose wrinkled. “Ye hae tae be jokin’. Yer gonnae drink outta the feckin’ jet?”

“Abso-fockin’-lutely,” Simon said.

Nik greeted them with all the energy of an excited puppy, gesturing at the jet and spilling in and out of Russian and English like his brain was struggling to come down from the sky. His face lit up further when he spotted the glasses in Simon's hands, slapping the lieutenant on the shoulder with a surprised, booming laugh.

The air crew left them to it and Nik did the honours. It helped that the small bowsers used to refill the air-conditioning system had conveniently placed spigots to tap the Foxbat-shaped keg.

“Poyekhali!” Nik said before he knocked back his mouthful of Foxbat bloody moonshine. Soap choked and coughed on his, and Simon grunted in discomfort.

Price grinned, toasting his own. “Za zdorovye, comrade.” He took a deep breath before downing the lot. Oh it bloody burned.

[jackhues]

LET'S GO PENS - (b's version)

i'm trying something new, maybe at the end of some games i'll do some fun ig edits. lmk what you guys think of this so far!! also, bee's ig is private, and sid knows about it now. and basically everyone in the nhl follows her bcz it's buttercup crosby. THIS IS FROM THE PENS VS AVS GAME -- OCT 26/23

--

buttercupsworld:

liked by mackinnon29, calemakar_, marner_93 & others

buttercupsworld: a pen's shutout and a pretzel. that's the life

mackinnon29: thank you for not posting any ugly pics of me -> buttercupsworld: they're coming dude, i just needed a quick aesthetic dump

calemakar_: honestly, i could go for a pretzel now -> buttercupsworld: give me ten minutes omw

e.malkin71geno: where is my face? -> buttercupsworld: bruh you told me you don't wanna be in the posts

buttercupsfriend: LET'S GO PENS -> buttercupsworld: THAT'S THE ENERGY -> marner_93: i think you girls mean GO LEAFS GO -> buttercupsworld: @/marner_93: don't make me block you again -> austonmatthews: @/buttercupsworld: again??!

penguins: admin approves this post 👍

taylorcrosby: phew nice pics -> buttercupsworld: there's a reason i'm the designated photographer

-----

buttercupsworld:

liked by calemakar_, penguins, austonmatthews & others

buttercupsworld: i should probably get a spam to post stuff like this, but.... LET'S GO PENS !!!!!

mackinnon29: WHY DO YOU STILL HAVE THAT PICTURE?? -> buttercupsworld: blackmail purposes

mackinnon29: pls take that picture away -> buttercupsworld: no

penguins: admin approves of this post. the captain though .... -> buttercupsworld: 😝

buttercupsfriend: the duality of a woman, those last two posts rlly cover it all

marner_93: where do you get all these pics from? -> buttercupsworld: i'm in ur walls -> marner_93: @/buttercupsworld: ... i'm actually shaking why are you like this -> buttercupsworld: @/marner_93: wait until the pens vs leafs game...

calemakar_: thanks for the pretzel -> buttercupsworld: you're welcome!!

_connorbedard has requested to follow buttercupsworld _connorbedard is now following buttercupsworld

buttercupsworld is now following _connorbedard

-

tags : @woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme ,  @svechnikovvv ,  @hockeyboysarehot , @emptyflowerpots ,  @mysticaldonkey , @lam-ila ,  @babydollmarauders , @starjoyyy  ,  @kjohnson-91 , @gavinbrindley, @hischierdevils , @jackhughesily  , @panarin10 ,  @equallyshaw ,   @power2myheart  ,  @lynnismypseudonym , @beccaiscold , @akengii , @nowandkei , @cinnamonpancakes , @mitchymainer , @lifeofpriya ,  @marshmallow-babe, @hughesx3 ,  @emsully2002  ,  @starsandhughes , @huggy-hischier73 ,  @doglady5678 , @thatoneblog , @exonct07 @hughesmedicine , @qwanelledingele , @mindless-rock , @ireadthensuetheauthors , @huggy-hischier94, @slaythehousedownboots , @diary-of-jj

join my main taglist!

[jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka]

Danny Does Dallas

Pairings: porn star au Danny X Sam ***SLASH PAIRING if that’s not your thing please scroll on

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!, strong sexual content, fingering (m receiving), mm sex, lots of swearing, obviously Danny being a porn star, this has nothing to do with the actual av I just thought the name was clever, very little editing

Word count: 5k

Keep it together Danny he thought to himself as he closed his eyes and tried to focus on the task at hand. This was his job, what paid the bills, and if he wasn’t able to perform without distraction then maybe he wasn’t the professional he always thought himself to be.

*click*

Fuck the sound was even louder with his eyes closed.

*click click*

Danny’s eyes flickered back open as his grip tightened and he finished his duty just as the part called for.

The sound stopped and he felt himself relax.

Damn camera man always getting so close…

Now that the set was finished he got cleaned up and wrapped himself in his personalized robe. The back donned with his name in script with shimmery gold embroidery Danny. Like everyone here didn’t already know who he was.

Having worked up an appetite he made his way to the snack table always situated in the back right corner of the studio next to the hallway for the dressing rooms.

Unexpectedly though when he arrived at the table he found a familiar scruffily face, shoulders donned with a thick black camera strap holding what looked like a heavy piece of equipment around his neck also sampling a few of the day's variety of refreshments.

“Umm hey, Samuel right?” Danny worked up the courage to greet the other boy as he reached towards the same plate of fruit as he was currently snacking on.

“Just Sam is ok” he replied, surprised that he was being spoken to.

“Alright, Sam” Danny repeated, sorry that he was having to part with any syllable of the boy's full given name.

A brief moment of silence fell between the two as the rest of the crew seemed to be busy prepping the studio for the next scene. Surely there was something the two could be doing to prepare as well, but now that the ice had been broken, neither were ready to walk away.

Danny plucked a rather large strawberry off the shared tray, bringing the plump heart shaped fruit to his lips and sinking his teeth into the flesh, it was a juicy one. A little pink dribble rolled down his chin, threatening to drip onto his fluffy white robe.

“Oh, here” Sam quickly reached over and rubbed his thumb over the spill, collecting the juice off Danny’s chin.

Sam froze when he felt his touch on Danny’s skin for the first time. Embarrassed that he’d reached over without thinking first. He tried to retract his hand quickly, but his wrist was caught by Danny bringing his thumb into his mouth to lick off the rest of the taste of strawberry.

“Thanks” Danny licked his lips as he let go of Sam’s arm.

“Ah, no problem, anytime!” Sam nervously replied.

What the fuck Sam? ‘Anytime’? This guy is going to think you’re a weirdo!

Danny chuckled as he watched Sam realize what he’d just said, his embarrassment revealing itself on his face.

When Sam first replaced their old photographer Danny was unsure of the boy. He always came to work dressed in old patterned button up shirts mismatched with either a pair of sweatpants or if it was particularly hot outside shorts. With it being a very hot summer in Texas this year, shorts were worn more often than not these days.

Sam didn’t look like the usual photographer he was used to working with. Instead of older and out of shape, some of them even gave off a creepy vibe, Sam was young. Just about Danny’s age if he had to guess. He was tall, not quite as tall as Danny though, and very dainty from the way his shirts hung loosely around his shoulders to the barely there curve of his waist. It didn’t take long working together in very close quarters to start to develop an interest in him.

“You did really well today, think I got some good shots for your promo” Sam placed his hand on top of his camera, bringing the conversation to a professional tone, but Danny’s mind was anywhere but being professional when around Sam.

“Hmm, I think I’d much rather see you up there one of these days. You’d look just as good as I do behind the camera”.

Holy shit Danny, you can’t just insinuate someone would look good doing porn.

“Ah, you’re joking!” Sam tried to shrug off the compliment although his face was turning red again.

Is THE Daniel Wagner flirting with me right now? Is that what’s happening?

“Am not” Danny replied, taking one hesitant step forward to keep the conversation personal as a few people started passing by to get to the dressing rooms.

“Wait” Sam spoke, stopping Danny in his tracks. “Is that a Michigan accent?”

Danny smiled, unaware that he’d even let his accent slip, caught up in the moment. “Yes, how’d you guess?”

“I’m from Michigan too!” Sam beamed excitedly. It had been the first time he’d ever met another native Michigander in Texas before, and it was Danny of all people. “I can’t believe I never noticed that before”.

“I don’t believe we’ve ever talked much before” Danny mentioned, hoping that would change after today.

“You’re right. I don’t think I’ve heard you say anything other than ‘fuck’ or ‘right there baby’ before”. It was Sam’s turn to make Danny blush as he jokingly tried to copycat Danny at work.

“How did you end up in Dallas?” Sam questioned after another awkward silence fell. Trying to revive the conversation so he didn’t have to walk away awkwardly.

Danny opened his mouth to speak but another approached him from behind. “Danny, you ready for the next scene?”

Danny looked over his shoulder to see the entire set had already been changed while he was caught in his head talking to Sam. He asked the crew member for just a few more minutes and turned back to Sam. There was one more thing he wanted to say. The reason why he’d approached him in the first place.

“How about I tell you about it tonight over drinks? If you’re free?” Danny invited hoping that Sam would immediately say yes.

“Oh, I don’t know. Depends on where you want to take me. I don’t do disco clubs” Sam smiled and Danny’s heart nearly blew out of his chest thinking about Sam dressed to the dime standing in the colorful flashing lights under a mirrored disco ball.

“Oh, then we can go wherever you’d like?” Danny would agree to anything at this point, he just wanted to see Sam anywhere but here. Somewhere they could talk, get to know each other, see where the night took them.

“Alright. I’ll see you after work then” Sam plopped one more piece of fruit into his mouth and walked back towards the set, fiddling with his camera on the way.

Work… right! Danny gathered his composure before leaving for his dressing room to get touched up. He’d been so out of it today he hardly remembered what the next scene was until he was walking back out onto set in nothing but a pair of black boots, a black cowboy hat, and his small gold necklace that laid out across his collarbone.

Danny kept his eyes fixated on the girl performing reverse cowgirl on him but the sound of camera lenses shuttering in his ear made it impossibly hard to keep his mind where it needed to be.

“Hair! His hair is in his face, someone move it!” The director called out. Danny’s hands were occupied in a close up of him gripping the girl's ass so instead the person nearest to him reached over and brushed the ringlet curls back for him, readjusting the cowboy hat that had been threatening to fall off for the last 10 minutes.

Danny made eye contact with Sam for the first time since the scene began, wishing badly that it was Sam’s ass he had a grip on at the moment.

Sam fixed him up nicely and took a few steps back, snapping one last shot before it was all over.

Why did he look at me like that? His heart thumped while he stared at the other man through the lens of his camera. He’d noticed Danny giving him looks here and there since he started, but never once thought he’d actually be interested in him.

Satisfied with all the shots he got today Sam decided to leave the studio first while they wrapped up. Gently taking his camera apart and storing it in its case until its next use.

Danny panicked a little when he didn’t see Sam later. He wondered if maybe he’d come on too strong and either made Sam feel uncomfortable or he was having second thoughts about going out with essentially a coworker. Danny’s mind was put at ease though when he returned to his dressing room and saw a single piece of paper folded over his chair containing a time and an address for them to meet up tonight with a simple message at the bottom:

Bring the cowboy hat

After a trip home for a shower and a change of clothes Danny was finding his way through the rough alleys of downtown Dallas. Looking up from the piece of paper with the scribbled out numbered address he saw a street lined with muscle cars and bikes. A crowd of young men and women dressed in distressed denim and leather crowded around the door to the venue. He was feeling a little bit self conscious about agreeing to wear the hat out in public now, but who was he to have denied a request made by Sam?

Once inside he scanned the crowded bar filled with billiards tables and an empty yet fully prepared stage in the back for a familiar face. Finally between the stage and the bar was Sam dressed finer than he’d ever seen him before in black slacks, a matching black blazer, and an impossibly tight red ribbed shirt.

“Fancy seeing you here” Sam casually commented when Danny approached to take a seat at the bar next to him.

“This is not what I expected when I suggested you pick the place” Danny admit, still glancing around and taking in the smoke filled atmosphere. “How do you know about this place?”

“My band plays here sometimes” Sam revealed to Danny’s surprise.

“You’re in a band?”

“Yeah, I play bass and keys. I’m off the hook tonight, still get lucky with cheap drinks here though”. He lifted his glass he had in the same hand as a cigarette tucked between his middle and pointer finger up to his lips and tossed what was left back before calling the bartender over to order more.

“So, what took you so long to ask me out?” Sam questioned when they both had another glass to accompany the conversation.

His eyes went wide, had Sam noticed Danny checking him out?

“It’s just we’re the same age, and we seem to have a lot in common. Just wish we would have done this sooner” Sam continued. He seemed to have a lot more confidence in talking to Danny outside of work, but not seeing him naked was helping a lot in keeping his cool.

“No, you’re right, I’ve wanted to get to know you more for quite some time now”. Danny took a large swig of his glass, trying to find his game as he used the excuse of grabbing a napkin that was placed in a pile right in front of Sam to inch his barstool closer to him. “Why haven’t you asked me out?”

Danny was so close now he could hear Sam sucking in a breath of air before his response.

“I didn’t realize you were… into me?” Sam phrased his reply like another question at the end, still not sure what exactly it was they were doing right now even with the heavy flirting that was going on.

Danny chuckled, sliding his hand across the bar top to where Sam’s was still resting on his glass, barely brushing his fingertips against his. “Why would I not be into you? You’re gorgeous. Especially dressed like this. Did you do that on purpose? Dress up for me so I’d go wild for you?” The words were rolling off Danny’s tongue straight into Sam’s ear causing Sam’s thoughts to run rampantly in circles.

“No, I alway dress like this when I go out” he denied even if the thought had crossed his mind when he was getting ready.

“Why don’t you dress like this at the studio then?”

“Don’t want to call any attention to myself. Seems that didn’t go over very well now did it?” He removed his hand from his glass which was also pulling away from Danny’s touch and took a long drag of his cigarette before running his fingers through his hair as he exhaled.

Danny wanted to lean forward even further, he wanted it to be his fingers tugging through the strands of Sam’s silky chestnut waves, but instead he sat back and watched, pulling his hand back into his lap and squeezing.

“No, it didn’t. I lose focus every time you’re around me. Even today when you brushed my hair out of my face for me. I wanted to thank you for that”.

Sam nervously laughed, trying not to vividly picture Danny’s pleasured expression he’d grown to be very fond of. “I was just doing my job”.

“Even then, thank you”. Now that Danny was pulled out of Sam’s bubble, his senses no longer completely enveloped in the boy's form next to him, he heard the songs playing in the background through the speakers and caught a glimpse of something interesting. “Hey, do you want to…”

Sam’s eyes flickered to the door, his clouded mind already assuming what the question was.

“Go pick a song with me?” Danny finished his sentence making Sam release the breath of air he’d been holding in. A sigh mixed with a semi relieved, semi disappointed laugh following.

“Sure” Sam stood from the bar first but waited for Danny to lead the way across the floor to the very large jukebox full of the hottest bands most recent hits.

Danny pulled out a few quarters from his pocket and slotted them into the machine as Sam leaned against it and flipped through the options.

He would have sat there for the rest of the night and listened to Sam talk about the music he liked, which was a lot, but eventually he settled and his choice came spilling out into the bar for everyone else to hear as well.

A slight pang of jealousy raised through Danny’s thoughts as he saw a few fellow patrons excited about the new music. He didn’t want to share Sam’s favorite song with them, he wanted to take him home and have Sam pick through his very own record collection and listen to all of his and Sam’s collective favorites alone together. Instead they returned to their spot at the bar and ordered more drinks.

The night was moving along, drink after drink was being poured as Sam and Danny talked about their lives leading up to landing in the same studio in Dallas.

They had all but forgotten they weren’t alone in the bar together, stealing glances of exposed skin around Sam’s mid-drift and Danny’s tight shirt sleeves, and fleeting touches of their hands against each other on the bar top.

“Hey! You look familiar” a random guy passing by the bar on his way back from the bathroom stopped and pointed his finger directly at Danny causing the two of them to jump out of their own little world and back into the real time setting.

“Sorry man, don’t know you” Danny tried to brush him off and turn away, hoping he’d get a hint, but the man persisted.

“No, aren’t you that guy that does adult films? Yeah that’s you! Hold on, let me go get my buddies. They'd love to meet you. I bet you got some crazy stories!” The guy was stumbling, he’d clearly had more than enough to drink for the night, acting loud and obnoxious as he hollered across to a group of guys at the opposite end of the bar.

Danny was already visibly getting irritated at the man’s behavior. He didn’t mind being recognized in public, but he didn’t get along with drunken assholes causing scenes in bars. “Look, I’m glad you're a fan and all. You want one picture or something that’s fine, but then we’d like a little privacy”. Despite his annoyance Danny was at the moment remaining very calm even as a few of the guy’s also drunk friends walked over at his call.

“No we don’t need a picture. I’ll tell you what you can do for us. I bet you have the phone numbers of some of those babes in your films? Call them up! Invite them out! Better yet, give us their numbers!”

The guys all chimed in when they realized what was unfolding, the commotion starting to draw attention to the area.

“The girls I work with are professionals and I can guarantee you they would not go out with guys like you even if you weren’t being complete assholes right now” Danny finally snapped, insulting them and honoring his colleagues all in one breath.

“No need to get an attitude pretty boy” they were starting to get pissed off in return. Not realizing how their drunkenness and crude remarks were not invited to their side of the bar.

“Look he said no, now leave us alone” Sam quipped having been mostly silent until now but no longer being able to just sit and watch as Danny got harassed.

“Oh who do we have here? I see you fuck girls on camera and girly boys off camera” the first man to interrupt them spoke again followed up with a few laughs from his friends.

Danny jumped out of his seat immediately and put his tall frame between Sam and the man as he began to reach over and try to grab a handful of his hair. The hair Danny wanted to touch and Danny only.

“So he is your boyfriend!” The man and his friends laughed even harder. “We should have known looking at the way you’re dressed” he flicked his fingers against the rim of Danny’s cowboy hat, nearly knocking it off of his head with the force.

“That’s funny coming from you considering I’m about to shove one of your friends so far up your ass that-” Danny’s threat was cut short by Sam grabbing his arm and running with him out the door before any of the guys could rear up and swing the first hit. Getting in a bar fight was not on his agenda for the night and if Danny got punched in the face there would be hell to pay at work.

“Hey you little shits get back here and try to say that again!” Danny heard the man yelling after them as they made it out the door, down the street, and around the corner before they slowed to a stop to catch their breaths.

“I’m so sorry those jackasses ruined our night” Danny tried to apologize with his hand over his quickly rising and falling chest.

Sam took one sideways look at Danny from his crouched stance against the concrete wall and burst out laughing. Danny raised an eyebrow in confusion but couldn’t help a giggle start to bubble out as well at the childness of it all.

“I just want to know which one of them you were about to ‘shove up his ass’” Sam wiped a rogue tear from the corner of his eye before standing up and walking over to Danny. “Besides, the night isn’t ruined. We can still go somewhere else”.

“You still want to?” Danny replied while quickly slipping back into the dreamlike state he’d been in previously watching Sam in front of him.

“The night is young. I’ll even let you pick this time” Sam was standing impossibly close to Danny now. He’d been impressed by the way Danny handled the whole ordeal. Up until he nearly started a brawl and had to be whisked away.

A curl had fallen loose from underneath Danny’s hat after having to run. Just like earlier today Sam reached over to move it out of his face, but instead of fixing his hat again he gently lifted it from Danny's head and held it beside their faces to briefly conceal him placing his lips on the others. “Your place or mine?” Sam smirked when he pulled back from the kiss all too soon for Danny’s liking.

“Whichever’s closer” Danny groaned while wrapping a hand around Sam’s waist and pulling his lower half firmly against his to steal one more kiss.

Decidedly Danny’s condo was actually closer than Sam’s apartment so they caught a taxi back towards the less scruffy part of downtown Dallas.

Sam fidgeted with the hem of his blazer as they rode the elevator up to the floor Danny’s condo was on in silence. It wasn’t awkward, both boys knew what they wanted but neither were going to expect anything from the other.

Once they arrived Danny set his key in a small plate on a console situated right next to the front door. “Drinks?” He offered and split from Sam, him going left into the kitchen and Sam right into the sunken living room.

“Whatever you have is fine” Sam called over as he removed his blazer and took a seat on the couch that nearly stretched the entire expanse of the area.

“You can get a fire started if you want. The fireplace is electric, you just flip the switch on the mantle” Danny mentioned as he gathered a few ingredients for the only cocktail he was confident he could make.

“You are from Michigan if you’re wanting a fire started in the middle of August” Sam chuckled but got up and moved to the mantle anyways. Danny kept his condo cold because he liked wearing sweaters and he’d much rather actually use his fireplace than the central heating.

Returning to Sam with two glasses in hand, he gave one to him and placed the other on the glass table at their feet.

“So I’d say let’s pick up where we left off, but I’m ashamed to say I honestly don’t remember what the last thing we were talking about was”. The only picking up he honestly wanted to do was Sam, over his shoulder and carried off into his bedroom, but it had been a while since Danny had actually been with anybody outside of his work and he didn’t recall how hard it was to initiate things without coming on too strong.

“You really want to just talk?” Sam eyed him up and down as he took a sip of his drink. Damn, did he make these strong on purpose?

“I mean, that’s okay with me” again, he didn’t want to assume what Sam was and wasn’t down for on a first date, if they could even call it a date. “Unless you had something else in mind?”

Sam braced himself for one more gulp of the very alcoholic drink and set it down onto the table next to the other. Once more he reached over and plucked the cowboy hat Danny was still wearing off his head, swapping it over to his as he boldly swung his leg over Danny’s lap and straddled him on the couch.

“I want you to fuck me like you do those girls on set” Sam’s voice came out like an angelic song dripping with passion.

With Sam’s hands massaging into his shoulders Danny quickly grabbed the other boy’s waist, feeling the texture of his shirt against his fingertips as he ran his hands up and down his sides. “No no angel, I’ll fuck you even better than those girls”. He latched his mouth onto a particularly tasty looking expanse of Sam’s neck causing him to whimper and grind his hips down.

“Yes baby, right there” Sam mocked the girl Danny had this afternoon making Danny pull back and look at him with a disappointed expression.

“You don’t think I’ll be better for you? Make you cry out my name for real?”

“I’ve seen all your moves” Sam started to rock his hips back and forth, mistakenly thinking he would be the one in control.

Danny buried his nose into Sam’s hair, nibbling on the shell of his ear before he spoke “yes, but have you felt me? Deep inside you until I’ve found that spot that will make you go crazy for me”. He felt Sam’s body shiver underneath his hands, grinning at the reaction only his words caused. “That’s what I thought. Now I’m going to go into my bedroom to get the lube. Do you want to follow me or wait here?”

“Take me to bed Daniel” Sam moaned, running his hands up the others neck and lacing his fingers through his hair.

Danny grabbed Sam and stood with him still in his arms, having him wrap his legs around his waist while they locked lips and he carried him back up the steps down the hallway and into his room.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had someone else in his bed, but after seeing Sam laid with his beautiful brown hair sprawled out above his head like a halo he knew he wouldn’t ever want anyone else.

In a quick fight of limbs against clothes Danny had them both undressed, his hat having long ago fallen off Sam’s head in his living room.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you” Danny asked as he pressed his lubed up fingers to Sam’s entrance, prepared to stretch him nice and easy until he was ready for him.

“No, I like it” Sam panted, a slight whimper leaving his parted lips when the first finger was pushed inside.

“Fucking Christ Sam. You already feel so good” he could feel Sam’s walls fluttering around him.

Danny wasn’t afraid that Sam wasn’t going to like what he was going to do, but that he’d get carried away and do too much too soon.

“Another Daniel” Sam rolled his hips onto Danny’s fingers as he placed the second next and pushed it inside as well, making sure he was getting all the way up to the last knuckle and curling up. Sam arched his back off the bed, reaching around to his front and grabbing onto his base with a tight grip trying to keep himself from finishing so soon.

“I think you’re already ready for another one. Do you want another?”

Sam lifted his head off the pillows to get a good look at Danny hovered below his waist. “You’re the professional, I trust you”.

Danny wanted to rip his fingers out and have him right then and there, but he knew better. He was the professional even if the image of Sam, cock in hand looking over the expanse of his body down at Danny with a pleading expression was enough to make him cum on his bedsheets if he moved himself too quickly trying to find a bit of his own relief.

He made his final preparation, adding a third finger until Sam was surly nice and relaxed then slowly pulled them all back out.

Sam groaned at the empty feeling, going ahead and getting a few good strokes in before Danny sat up, bringing one of Sam’s legs up with him and propping his ankle up on his shoulder.

Once he was lined up perfectly, he slid in inch by inch, watching as Sam’s face went from brows tightly knit, to softened as he adjusted to his size, and then totally blissed out when he started to move.

Sam ran his hands up Danny’s abdomen, trying desperately to grab onto anything since he knew touching himself was off the table until he was ready to end it. He saw Danny’s eyes shift from his down to where they were connected, watching himself disappear inside him over and over again. He had one hand on Sam’s propped up leg, and the other on his hip, holding Sam down onto the mattress as he snapped his hips with calculated precision.

“Do you want to cum first? I want to be inside you when you do” Danny looked back at Sam as he took the initiative to start stroking him instead, residual lube still clinging to his fingers.

Sam shook his head back and forth on the bed, but he couldn’t bring himself to say no or try to stop him because it felt so good and he did want to cum at the hands of Danny.

He just didn’t expect to be this undone, this helpless underneath the man he’d fantasized about for so many weeks now. With Danny hitting that spot deep inside him though, and a masterful flick of his wrist, Sam was teetering on the edge.

“Let go, I’m right behind you” Danny encouraged, picking up his pace with both his hips and his hand, sending Sam over the edge.

He had to keep himself from wanting to squeeze his eyes closed as he spilled out into Danny’s hand. Wanting more to see the look on Danny’s face when he finished almost immediately after.

The muscles in Sam’s leg were twitching from strain as Danny lowered it back down, slipping out in the same motion with a groan and a sigh.

“Do me a favor?” Danny kindly asked as he collapsed onto Sam, not even caring about the mess that was made between them.

“Hmm?” Sam hummed in content response as he mindlessly played with the tips of Danny’s hair that now tickled his chest.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone at work I finished so quickly. I’ll lose my reputation”.

Sam giggled and Danny loved the way it sounded with his ear pressed against Sam’s chest. Sam didn’t have any intention of sharing this perfect moment with anyone, and in his mind Danny had only proved his reputation tonight.

“Only if you promise to ask me out again tomorrow”.

[arthurflecksgirl]

"Knock knock"

A little girls voice came from the other side of the door. First Arthur thought he was hallucinating but then he noticed that you heard the sweet voice in the hallways too. "I think there is someone at your door, darling?" Arthur walked up the door in his pajamas. Who could it possibly be? A bright, adorable smile welcomed him as he opened it.

"Knock knock"

"Who's there?

"Radio"

"Radio who?"

"Radio not. Here I come!"

The little girl with the pigtails stormed into Arthur's apartment as you ran towards her to take her into your arms.

"Gigi! Oh my god, what a great surprise! Where is your mum?"

Little Gigi pointed at the door. Sophie waved at you as she nicely pattet Arthurs shoulder "Hiiii" "Hi Sophie. How are you?"

Sophie seemed to be in a hurry as she searched for something in her purse "I'm sorry. I wanted to ask you if you could take care of Gigi until I get back home? I couldn't find a babysitter and Gigi had been asking if she could visit Arthur". Arthur turned around to look at the kid "R-Really? She asked for me?" Sophie smiled "Yeah. She did. She actually asked if you would go outside built a snowman with her but I guess that's a little too much to ask for..." Arthur started biting his nails " Oh... It's.... Absolutely not. I would love to do that!" "Yeah?" Sophies face lighted up as she checked her watch "That would be so sweet of you".

Gigi ran up to Arthur and hugged his skinny legs "Yaaaayyy.... I knew you would, Mr. Clown! I told mommy you would!"

Arthur kneed down to the girl and squeezed her "Of course. I only need to get dressed. Okay? You don't want me to go outside like that, don't you?"

Gigi covered her mouth and giggled at the sight of Arthurs smiley pattern pajamas as he disappeared in the bedroom to change.

"Thank you for doing this" Sophie seemed genuinely thankful. "Not for that. It's our pleasure. Your daughter is adorable." "Thank you. I'm sorry but I really gotta go now. Have a good time!" "We will! See ya!" Gigi kissed her mother goodbye and danced around the living room.

"If you're happy and you know it clap your hands..." she sang "Do you know who teached me that song?".

"Hmmm.... I have a suspicion.... Was it..."

Gigi bursted out in laughter, nodding "Yeah..... Arthur did! We once got stuck in the elevator for at least 15 minutes and I got scared and he told me it will be okay and then he started singing this song. And then I wasn't afraid anymore." "That's a good story, Gigi. And you still remember the words to the song?" Gigi nodded and continued singing the song, clapping. A minute later Arthur joined her, all dressed up and ready to go.

"Aaarthuuuur" she squirked as he gave her another heartfelt hug. "Ready?" "Yes!" Your husband kissed your cheek as he helped you into your coat "You're joining us, right?" "Of course. There is no way I would miss out on that".

3 Minutes later you found yourself outside with Arthur and a very happy little girl. Anderson Ave was covered in a thick blanket of snow. Just perfect to built a snowman together. First you wanted to help them building it but then you got caught up in the magic of watching them and observing the happiness. Arthur was having the time of his life showing Gigi how to make the snowball as big as possible in a short amount of time. But not without a song on his lips.

Watching Arthur fooling around with Gigi made you feel so warm inside, you could barely feel the icy wind on your face anymore.

"C'mon" Arthur yelled from a bit of a distance "Join us! This is so much fun".

But you didn't wanted to move. You wanted to take this moment in. To take a mental polaroid photograph of it. To freeze it in your memory. Little Gigi asking for Arthur to built a snowman with her and them having fun in the snow. When Arthur was with kids, he seemed to be one of them. He never treated them as a adult would but like a friend. And that's what they saw in him. What Gigi saw in him. Her funny, sweet clown friend who was a little bit taller than her but just as silly and playful. Just as capable of getting lost in a make belive game.

You watched them placing the head on top of the other two huge snowballs. The snowman now was as tall as Gigi herself.

Arthur took some branches that were lying around to give him arms.

"Look, Arthur. I found the perfect eyes!"

Gigi handed Arthur two big, shiney stones.

"Perfect. Now he can see us!"

Gigi stared at the snowmans face for a while before she started looking for a nose.

"Hey Gigi. I think I know where the perfect nose is!"

He reached behind the girls ear and magically made a big, red clown nose appear!

Gigi laughed "Ohh wooow. How did you do that?"

Arthur blinked "I'm a magician. You know?"

"Yes my mum told me! Now give him the nose!"

Arthur put the clown nose onto the snowmans face.

"Now he is a clown like you!" the little girl giggled.

"Oh my god. Did you see that? He just started dancing when we were about to turn around!" he yelled.

Gigi jumped up and down with excitement "Really?"

"Yeah. I think he is alive."

"I told you, Arthur . I told you!"

Time passed as you watched them playing make belive in the snow. After an hour you walked towards them.

"Hey honey. Is everything fine? You didn't join us?"

"I'm fine, darling. I just had to take some mental pictures for my memory"

Arthur kissed you on the cheek as Gigi grabbed his hand and you walked back home with a song on your lips.

"There must have been some magic

In that old silk hat they found

For when they placed it on his head

He began to dance around

Oh Frosty, the snowman was as live as he could be

And the children say he could laugh and play

Just the same as you and me"

[avvattev]

@avvatev SS25 “Loud” Campaign 

Creative Direction @mctripier @22mc.world

Photographer @matthewtammaro

Photography Assistant @jacksnell 

Styling and Consulting @nicola.neri

Set Design @afrazamara 

Set Design Assistant @d2chm

Hair @mayukonakae__

Make Up @laurenfreynolds

Movement Direction @k____ku_ 

Casting @goodcatch_

Production Company @lgstudio_ 

Producer @camillamlewis

PR @a.i.pr @martyw_

av Team @hyeincho_ @cipak_tupak @katie.e.edwards 

@floja__cat @ortoprintstudio

Thank you always @sarabandefoundation 

[iromyshop]

once had a family and if I remember correctly two kids and their parents I was in Wynwood 2nd Ave... the dad says "let me take a video I will make you famous I have a huge following" - my reply "I already am famous every store I go into they know me for giving roses, no videos and photos please this is an 'in the moment' live art experience'"

and in the photo a natural sunlight photograph of one of my most recent pieces. Handmade leaf roses, arcylic paint maybe a little oil paint and art resin. This will go hundreds of years I once saw in downtown Charleston SC a piece of the same leaf used for the roses nearly 100 years old still going strong. Meaning if the roses without paint and resin can go a hundred years... well it's 'blue chip' artwork folks... enjoy! Thanks for being here! -Joey

[styles-harriet]

Will be available on ao3 soon

Uptight fashion photographer Aven Roberts prides herself on staying professional.

Until she meets model Jin Nakamura for a shoot.

His smoldering looks and endless charm instantly get under her skin in ways she can't shake.

Unexpectedly pulled into his world of reckless indulgence, the blazing chemistry between them combusts.

But was this just a random attraction ? Or the spark of something dangerously addictive?

Part 1

"Snap out of it, Aven. This is just another shoot, just another model," I muttered to myself as I arranged the camera equipment. But even as I said the words, I knew this particular booking was going to test my professionalism.

Jin Nakamura was the latest internet sensation in the fashion world. The Japanese-British model had been explosively signed after some candid beach shots of his ripped physique made the rounds online and his appearance on Love Island dating show had made quite the impact. People shipped him hard with the girl he was dating on the show but when their breakups were announced and he was on the market, it somehow raised the demand for him.Now every apparel brand wanted a piece of him on their campaigns and mainstream success seemed inevitable.

I took a steadying breath as I saw him enter the studio, trying not to gawk like a fangirl. The photos and videos didn't lie - Jin was a true specimen in the flesh. His warm brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he flashed a bright, welcoming smile. Tousled dark locks fell across his forehead in that perfectly imperfect way. The tight vintage rock t-shirt he wore struggled to contain his broad, muscular chest and shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist and slim hips.

"Aven Roberts?The photographer?" he asked as he approached, extending his hand. I nodded dumbly for a moment before finding my words.

"Y-Yes, that's me. It's a pleasure to meet you, Jin. I'm a big..." I cringed internally at what I'd almost blurted out. "That is, I've admired your work."

He let out a rich chuckle that danced delightfully across my nerves. "The pleasure is all mine, trust me. I requested you personally for this shoot after seeing your previous work. Your photographs have such an effortless cool vibe to them."

I felt my cheeks flush slightly at the compliment. Get it together, Av. "Well, thank you. That means a lot, coming from you. I'll do my best to capture your...essence today."

"I have no doubt," he replied easily with a wink.

Just then, Dana from the modeling agency arrived to go over the plan for the day's swimwear shoot. As the lead producer, she outlined the different looks and settings we'd be doing - from few formal suits to casual beachwear looks to athletic action shots and even some figure studies and portraits mixed in. Jin would be the solo talent but the agency hoped to highlight his versatility across different active scenarios and environments.

"Sounds like my kind of workout," Jin quipped with a roguish grin. "Bringing the heat in every sense of the word."

I rolled my eyes in what I hoped was a premature rebuff to any inappropriate thoughts. "Just make sure to hydrate well, Mr. Nakamura. It's going to be a grueling day."

The shoot began with Jin doing some simple warmup moves while I grabbed some candids during the initial stretching and prep. My camera clicked away as I tried to remain focused despite his physique being even more impressively cut than I'd imagined. Toned pectorals shaped by deep grooves, cobblestone abdominals that could have been used as a washboard, and sinewy limbs covered in a paper-thin sheen of perspiration - this man's body was undeniably built for ogling.

But I was a professional, damn it. I'd worked with ripped fitness models before, plenty of times over my decade-plus career. There was nothing new here that should be phasing me, no matter how...cut...this particular specimen happened to be.

"How're those pipes treating you, Aven?" Dana's voice broke into my thoughts. "Getting some killer frames?"

I realized I'd been a bit too zoned out and quickly checked my camera's display, hoping she couldn't read the look on my face.

"Uhh, yep, all good here," I replied, a little flustered. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Jin's knowing smirk and fought the urge to visibly squirm. Get. It. Together.

We started with a couple of formal shoots, his tanned complexion contrasting with the dark teal blazer and black T shirt and black trousers, or was it a turquoise blazer ? I don’t know, all I could focus on was how good he looked. The fit suit him, formal with a dash of casual, just like him, professional but also a bit cheeky and humorous.

From there, we transitioned into the main set where the swimwear looks would be captured. The studio had been artfully dressed to mimic a high-end beach club scene - stylized wicker furniture, plush cabana lounge setups, sunken fire pits, and even a small tiled pool for setting effects.

Jin emerged for his first look decked out in a pair of classic navy swim trunks that contrasted strikingly against his lightly tanned skin. The cut was minimal but still leaving just enough to the imagination. Paired with the casual unbuttoned shirt left open to reveal his chiseled torso, it made for an ensemble that was both clean and coverable yet still utterly smoldering.

"Lookin' good, Nakamura," Dana nodded in approval. "Giving off major Bali resort vibes with that whole laid-back but luxury feel."

Jin responded with an easy laugh and casual shrug of his broad shoulders. "What can I say? It's an inherent talent to look this criminally vacationy at all times."

I cleared my throat to prevent myself from visibly reacting to his playful banter. Focus, Aven, .You're the consummate professional here.

As Jin got situated on the wicker framed daybed, I began walking through potential angles and poses for the setup. "For these first ones, I want you to almost look like you've just woken up at the cabana. Relaxed, a bit disheveled but still smoldering, if you catch my drift?"

He gave me a roguish wink. "Oh, I've got smoldering bedhead down to an art form, just you wait."

I felt my cheeks warm slightly at his teasing tone but pressed on. "Maybe have one knee cocked up, an arm behind your head, really make those ab lines pop..."

Without missing a beat, Jin arranged himself into the pose, drawing one knee up and letting the other leg extend out long. He propped an elbow up on the plush cushion and ran his free hand through his perfectly tousled hair in an exaggerated motion.

"How's this, Aven? Giving you pangs of thirst already?"

I could sense Dana stifling a laugh nearby at Jin's brazen flirtation, but I wasn't going to take the bait that easily. Two could play at this game.

"Hmm, not quite," I replied, keeping my tone even and unaffected. I stepped up close to adjust the angle of his arm slightly, letting my arm graze against the warm skin of his bicep and shoulder as I did so. "Maybe lose the smart-ass pout and give me something a little more...hungry?"

Jin's eyes widened somewhat at my return barb but he didn't break character, merely letting his lips part slightly and dragging his gaze slowly up and down my body for a heated moment before turning his face back towards the camera with a sultry look that made my mouth go dry.

Yeah...that's the stuff, I admitted inwardly. Suddenly feeling almost dizzy, I retreated a few steps and ducked behind my viewfinder to prevent him from seeing any hint of a blush creeping into my cheeks.

"Okay awesome, let's get a few like that," I managed in a level tone. "Then we'll reset for the next vignette."

For the next couple of hours, Jin and I danced back and forth in our roles, him amping up the smolder and seductive attitude while I struggled to maintained a professional detachment that was growing more difficult by the moment. We captured him lounging by the poolside, faux-sipping margaritas and mimicking playful splashes. We moved into an athlete's workout room set where he donned skintight compression shorts and a sweat-soaked tank top for action poses and physique figure studies that left little to the imagination. At one point, he even shed his shirt and flexed shirtless, per my direction, before the fan blowing on him to create movement and make those defined abdominals absolutely pop off the camera sensor.

To his credit, Jin stayed locked in and brought an impressive level of focus to each setup and change of wardrobe. But the longer we worked together, the more he seemed to consciously push me with his little teasing quips and heated looks that made me feel like I was melting behind the safety of my lens. By the time we got to the athletic action poses that had him dripping with simulated sweat and moisture, I was struggling to formulate coherent thoughts.

"You're looking pretty flushed there, Av," Dana observed with a bemused expression. "Need to take a quick break and... cool off?"

I shot her a warning glare, knowing she was reveling in watching me get so frazzled. Taking a beat, I composed myself before looking back towards Jin.

"Five minutes, big guy? Get a drink, dry off, then we'll power through that athletic series."

Jin dragged a towel slowly across his forehead and snaked it down over the ridges of his neck and shoulders, leaving his tanned skin glistening. "Anything for you, Aven. Though I have to admit, the heat is rather...intense," Jin remarked, dragging the towel tantalizingly down his sculpted abdomen.

I felt my breath catch in my throat at his blatantly suggestive words and movements. Clearly he knew exactly what he was doing to push my buttons at this point. Taking a steadying breath, I raised an eyebrow in an attempt to maintain my unflustered exterior.

"I'm sure you're more than capable of handling yourself, Mr. Nakamura," I replied evenly. "But if not, I can arrange for a bucket of ice water to be dumped over you."

The smug look on his face morphed into one of surprised respect at my retort. Rather than firing back, he merely gave an acknowledging dip of his chin before turning away to grab his water bottle, the muscles of his back rippling enticingly.

Get a grip, Av, I chided myself. You're acting like a schoolgirl with a crush, not a professional. This kind of charged back-and-forth was all part of Jin's game, and I couldn't let myself get so easily flustered.

When he rejoined me a few minutes later, I was determined to reassert control over the situation and dynamic. Directing him into a staggered series of high-intensity athletic poses - lunging, air kicks and punches, dynamic abdominal twists - I pushed Jin hard to capture the raw power and aggression beneath that skillfully toned exterior.

"Give me more intensity! I want to see that fire!" I called out, circling him to capture every angle. "You're a warrior out here, an unstoppable force of nature! Don't hold anything back!"

Jin's eyes narrowed to laser-like focus, sweat already beading across his brow and shoulders as he executed each movement with rigid precision and coiled strength. The muscles of his arms, chest and abs clenched and flexed like a panther ready to strike as he heated up into the routine.

Growling out ragged breaths with each successive lunge and strike, Jin fully embodied the ferocious energy of a primal hunter that I demanded of him in that moment. And I was devouring every explosive second of it through my viewfinder, feeling my own body temperature spiking higher.

"Yes! That's it!" I heard myself cry out uncharacteristically amid a series of shutter bursts. "Gimme that raw, savage power! Show me your true animal!"

Jin's nostrils flared as he met my commanding words with a fiery look of determined intensity. Pushing himself into a handstand, he launched into a series of staggeringly chiseled one-armed push-ups, the corded tension of his biceps, shoulders, and abdomen pulling taut like an uncoiled panther.

I felt an involuntary whimper escape my lips at the sheer virile display, scarcely able to tear my eyes away from the camera lens that strained to capture every explosive muscle convulsion, every bulging sinew under glistening skin.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I had circled around to where Jin was still furiously working through the push-up set. Saying nothing, I extended one foot and pressed it against his sculpted abs, testing their rigid tensile strength as he powered up and down with each rep.

Jin's eyes snapped up towards the sudden pressure, scorching me with a look of searing intensity. Rather than falter at the intimate contact, he merely held my gaze with that burning look and redoubled his exertion with a guttural growl that seemed to reverberate through his entire body.

I bit my lower lip hard, practically panting now at the exhilarating sight and feeling of his unleashed masculinity, all that coiled power and pent-up ferocity roiling so viscerally against my sole. Sweat stung my eyes as I drank in every heaving muscle contraction.

"Aven! Hey Av!" Dana's distant-sounding voice finally cut through the trance-like haze that had fallen over me.

Blinking hard, I turned to see her and the rest of the crew staring at me with bemused expressions. Blood rushed to my face as the realization hit me at what I'd been doing - actually restraining and challenging Jin with my foot against his body during that athletic flurry.

I practically leapt back as if burned, sputtering for words amidst the crimson flush of embarrassment now encompassing me down to my chest. "Oh my god...I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me!" I stammered out.

Jin, breathing hard but a self-satisfied grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, merely flexed his glistening abdominals once more before pushing himself up to stand. He took a long, deliberate swig of water, letting his eyes roam over me boldly.

"No need to apologize,"

The next couple of setups were even more strenuous tests of my rapidly fraying composure. We transitioned to a faux marine environment, where Jin wore a pair of obscenely tiny, clinging swim briefs as he splashed around shirtless in the waist-deep water tank. Capturing his taut physique glistening with rivulets of water as he whipped his hair back was like crafting living sculptures of heroic masculine beauty.

At one point he locked eyes with me, skimming his hands up over his drenched torso and giving an exaggerated stretch that made his abdominal muscles ripple and contort. The smirk he wore made it clear he knew exactly how he was affecting me behind the camera lens.

"You sure you've got enough... material here, Aven?" he asked, voice dripping with faux innocence. "Maybe take a few steps closer for some tighter framing?"

Struggling to keep my countenance, I simply raised an eyebrow at his transparent attempt to fluster me yet again. Two could play at that game.

"Oh, I'm quite satisfied with my angles, Jin," I replied calmly. "Though if you need motivation to give me some bigger... movements and extensions, I could have the crew hose you down more thoroughly?"

His mouth curved into an impressed grin at my brazen pushback before giving a small shake of his head. Spinning around, he launched into an explosive series of high-kicking actions that made his powerful legs slice through the water in slow-motion cuts and arcs.

The final looks of the day involved Jin modeling the latest line of athletic boxer-briefs that strained against his powerful musculature. Clinging sheaths of Performance fabric sculpting every crevice and ridge of his body, leaving little to the imagination. At one point he was directed to mime a series of calisthenic movements - crunches, leg raises, etc - his member straining against the confines of the fabric with each contraction.

To my credit, I managed to maintain filmmaking focus and direct Jin through each movement without turning into a total flustered mess. Though by the time we wrapped for the day, I was undoubtedly flushed and likely in need of a long, cold beverage.

"And that's a wrap folks, incredible work today!" Dana called out to the team. "Jin, you were simply stupendous as always.Aven, I think you broke a new record for most ... artistic devotion I've ever seen from you!"

I shot her a withering look, making a mental note to stop sharing any personal details or gossip with my longtime friend and producer. If I was being honest with myself, I knew full well she was taking immense pleasure in watching me get so delightfully riled up and flustered during this particular shoot

As the crew began striking the set and packing up gear, I busied myself with downloading and backing up my footage cards while trying to steady my thoughts. Despite my arguably distracted demeanor, I knew I'd gotten a incredibly strong batch of images and video to work with. Jin's modeling prowess was even more impressive and captivating in person.

"Need a hand, Aven?"

The rich timbre of that distinctive voice made me jump slightly. I turned to see Jin standing beside my workstation, clad in a simple white tank and athletic shorts with a towel draped around his neck. His tousled hair was still slightly damp and the fabric of his shirt did little to hide the contours of his physique.

"Oh, um, no thanks," I replied quickly, trying not to stare. "I'm just about wrapped up on my end. Incredible work today, by the way. You have an amazing...presence in front of the camera."

He flashed me that sparkling smile that no doubt melted hearts across the globe. "Well, I had an amazing photographer helping me tap into those...primal instincts we wanted to capture."

I felt heat rushing to my cheeks at his words, instantly replaying the memory of pressing my foot against his tensed abdominals during that intensely physical photoshoot sequence. Of all the stupid, unprofessional things I could have done...

"Also, I wanted to see if you'd maybe like to grab a drink?" Jin continued in an almost casual tone. "I could use someone to rundown the Lightroom processing tips for these shots. You know, eke out every last...contour and detail possible." He punctuated the statement with a weighted pause and meaningful look.

I felt my cheeks flush even hotter at his blatantly suggestive double meaning. He really wasn't being subtle at all with his intentions now. Part of me wanted to fire back some sort of quick, dismissive remark to deflect his forwardness. But another part, one I was fighting harder and harder to suppress, felt an undeniable spark of thrilled excitement at his probing flirtations.

Regaining my composure, I let out a small laugh and shook my head. "While I appreciate you wanting to...extract every ounce of potential from this shoot, I think I'll be able to achieve that just fine on my own, Jin."

He gave an impressed dip of his chin, not even attempting to hide the admiring look he was giving me. "You're one tough nut to crack, Aven Roberts.”

"Well, I do pride myself on being a consummate professional," I replied evenly, holding his gaze. "But I also know how to loosen up and have fun when the job is done."

One corner of his mouth quirked up knowingly. "Is that so? Do tell..."

I opened my mouth to respond but was interrupted by Dana calling out from across the studio. "Av, You need any help finished breaking things down?"

Grateful for the interruption, I waved her off. "No, I'm just about wrapped up over here. Go ahead and take off!

Looking back at Jin, I gave an exaggerated stretch and groaned loudly, letting my arms extend up over my head which inadvertently made my snug t-shirt ride up and expose a tight strip of toned midriff.

"You know, all this studio work has me feeling pretty cooped up," I remarked, feigning nonchalance. "I could actually go for some fresh air and a walk around the neighborhood when I'm done."

Jin visibly perked up at this, running an appreciative look over the newly exposed sliver of my abdomen before meeting my gaze again. "Well, I'd be more than happy to provide a...personal escort and guided tour if you'd like? Make sure you burn off all those excessive energies properly?"

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning at his laughably unsubtle attempt to prolong our time together. Though I had to admit, the thought of spending more casual, unstructured time with this devilishly charming model was an undeniably tantalizing prospect.

"You know what?" I said, unable to keep a faint smile from playing across my lips now. "I think I'll take you up on that offer, Jin. It would be rude of me to reject such a gracious tour guide, wouldn't it?"

The brilliant smile he flashed made it clear I'd given him exactly the response he'd been angling for. "It would be my absolute pleasure, Aven, I'll go grab us a couple of waters for the journey."

As he turned and headed off to locate some bottled waters, I felt my gaze linger perhaps a bit too longingly on the backside view of his snug athletic shorts stretched tightly over his toned glutes. Giving an inward shake of my head, I quickly refocused on packing up the last of my equipment.

What was I getting myself into here? This was so unlike my typical boundaries of professionalism. But there was just something effortlessly magnetic about Jin's presence, that captivating blend of exotic good looks, easy charm and confidence. Getting flustered on set was one thing, but actually agreeing to spend extra one-on-one time with him felt like wading into dangerous territory.

Then again, when was the last time I'd allowed myself to truly let loose and have fun with shameless flirtation? It had been far too long since I'd experienced that giddy thrill of potential chemistry and seeing where it could lead.

By the time Jin returned with the waters, my gear was securely packed away. He gave a small whistle as he extended one of the bottles towards me.

"Well don't you look ready to hit the town? All recharged and replenished I'd say..."

I laughed and shook my head as I accepted the bottle from his grasp, riding a small tingle at the light brushing of his fingertips. "Hardly. Just awaiting my guided neighborhood tour as promised."

"Then let's be on our way," Jin replied with a roguish grin, gesturing towards the studio's exit. "The evening is young and there's so much of the city I want to show you, Aven."

Fighting a fresh blush at his suggestive choice of words, I gave him a playful nudge with my elbow and strode ahead, forcing him to follow my lead. Something told me that with Jin, I'd be needing to stay one step ahead whenever possible...

———— Short part 1 just to set the plot but part 2 which is MUCH longer and will have the actual date scene will be released tomorrow! It’s a two shot fanfic ———-

A/N - AHHHH my first ever Litg fanfic one shot is finally here !!! I had this plot on the drafts for so long but I wanted to finish the art for cover page and then post it!!

Ngl, my mind is being taken up by that LITG pride month fanfic challenge, I immediately knew who i want as my lovers, i have the plot in mind. It might exceed a three shot, it's definitely exceeding the word limit tbh.

Two hints. Bradford meets Bath

[weekend-conspiracy-theorist]

in which damian has an agenda, cass has been keeping secrets, and gotham has just the worst infrastructure in existence. (an entry in the tim&steph role swap au)

Unlike Tim's non-flashy but solidly respectable apartment, which had been purchased with the intent of fooling his case worker into believing the lie of his beloved and financially stable Uncle Eddie Drake, the offices of Red Bird Investigations were kind of a shithole. The office space itself was clean, recently painted, and well-repaired, thanks to the elbow grease Tim (assisted by his begrudging blonde minions, plus an utterly unhelpful Cassandra, who had never held a paintbrush or screwdriver in her life) had put into it when he first signed the lease, but it was nonetheless housed in a crumbling brick building in one of Gotham's many questionable neighborhoods--

And 4032 Dixon Ave was exactly what you'd expect of a crumbling building in one of Gotham's many questionable neighborhoods. In theory, a person had to have a key or get buzzed in to access the building, but really you could force the lock if you jiggled it just right and pushed down on the knob, and the super kept the side door propped open so he could chainsmoke in the alley.

Half the offices were empty, and the rest were primarily a combination of loan sharks, con artists, and realtors. Roaches were a fact of life, the elevator had been out of order for upwards of a decade according to the manager of the phone line on the second floor, and the air conditioning was reliably unreliable during the hottest months of the summer. There was one gargoyle statue on the corner of the roof, which was neither attached nor an original aspect of the structure, but had been added (and gaudily painted) by someone with an impeccable sense of humor sometime in the semi-recent past.

Tim, who periodically spent an hour wistfully scrolling rental listings for the boathouses on the marina before reminding himself it'd be stupid even for a millionaire to move out of his apartment when it was fully paid off, couldn't have been happier with this particular life choice. He liked places with history, even when said history was as mundane as being an office building from the 70s which had survived the Quake by dint of thick walls and being far enough off the harbor to actually have been built on decent soil. He liked fixing things, sinking his time and his sweat into routine maintenance and non-lease-breaking improvements.

And more than anything, what Tim really liked were the people. Messy, vibrant, petty, compassionate people. There was character, there was life to the parts of the city which weren't directly under the heel of Gotham's glamorous rich, and Tim thrived there.

In rare form, Stephanie didn't even usually give him a hard time about his office space, because she got it. She liked them too.

Damian Wayne was less impressed.

"I was under the impression you ran a respectable business," the kid said, as he stood in the center of the main room. His shoes alone probably cost as much as every piece of furniture in the office combined, and his expression was deeply dubious.

He looked painfully young, in the washed out gray light seeping in through the big windows on the back wall, sandwiched in between the doors of Tim's office--a shoebox full of filing cabinets and the best computer equipment he could cram into it--and that of "Alvin Draper," which was bigger, nicer, and only occupied once a week, when the actor he'd hired to play his boss made a perfunctory appearance. The main room had a few of his better Gotham-by-night photographs framed on the wall, a kitchenette with a sink and a minifridge and a miniscule sum of counterspace mostly taken up by the drying rack for the two plates and two forks which Tim kept on hand for his lunches, as well as a nice couch and a coffee table at which Tim usually interviewed his clients.

He had spread the details of his latest case out on said couch and coffee table, not having anticipated any visitors after 4 PM on a Friday afternoon. "Uh," he said, intelligently. His hair was a mess, between the sweat and the running his fingers through it while he thought, and he'd stripped to his undershirt an hour ago. He debated, briefly, grabbing his dress shirt off of the arm of the couch and putting it back on, but 1) it was too damn hot, and 2) it was a sign of weakness. "'Respectable' is as good a word as any, I guess."

"Tt." Damian clicked his tongue, that sharp green gaze of his sweeping across the room and across Tim. "This building is incredibly insecure."

"It is," Tim agreed. His computer network was quite sound--and only got increasingly so, as he continued hanging out with Stephanie at the Clocktower and picking up advice from Oracle--but the information he kept in his filing cabinets was a careful mix of useless and non-confidential. Most of the physical files he built throughout the course of a case ended up digitized and shredded before he sent the final invoice. "But for the kinds of clients I prefer to work with, it's familiar. For the ones I tolerate for the sake of my bills, they're just excited that I'm cheap."

"The air conditioning is... insufficient."

Tim, who had been glistening with a light sheen of sweat since he walked in the door at 7 AM, really hadn't needed Damian's help to figure that out. "Oh, is that why my paperwork keeps sticking to my arm," he drawled, snide, and leaned back against the couch as he tossed down his pen.

This was already the longest one-on-one conversation they'd ever had, with the exception of the union mediation Tim had arbitrated, which didn't really count. Well, and the time Robin had cornered him during a stakeout to give him a shovel talk regarding Steph, which had been hilariously out-of-date. Point was: he and Damian didn't just talk. They talked so little, in fact, that Tim hadn't even found an opportunity to launch the "actually we're cousins, didn't you know?" prank for which Cassandra had dutifully planted evidence in the Wayne Manor library.

They sat in silence for a moment; Tim studying Damian and Damian studying the weird water stain in the middle of the ceiling. (There were two floors between this one and the roof, making rain damage unlikely, but there were also no utility pipes running through the ceiling above that spot; Tim had checked the as-builts. He'd left the mystery alone from there, because he was certain he didn't want to know where it had come from.)

Tim was good at reading people, and good at reading Robins in particular. The wrinkle between Damian's eyebrows and the poutiness of his frown said there was something on his mind; the fact that he'd showed up at Tim's office said... honestly, Tim didn't know what it said. He had a hard time believing that he'd done something to offend the kid and an even harder time believing that Damian would seek him out regarding something someone else did to offend him, considering they never talked.

Speculating about it wasn't going to get him anywhere. Leadingly, Tim asked, "Are you here for, like... a reason?"

Damian thinned his lips and narrowed his eyes, briefly transforming into the spitting image of his mother on the one time Tim had seen her, a brief glimpse caught from opposite ends of a League compound, as Z whisked Tim away by the scruff like a recalcitrant cat and Cass and Pru gleefully tore the place apart. With careful deliberance, Damian said, "Stephanie tells me she sought your counsel often during her tenure as Robin."

Tim was still Stephanie's favorite sounding board, and vice versa. Damian definitely knew that; the two of them weren't shy about it. Which meant it was purposeful--and significant--that the kid had specified her Robin days.

Tim looked at the papers spread across his coffee table. This particular case wasn't going to fall apart any time in the next two hours.

Standing and stretching, he draped his dress shirt over his arm and jerked his chin towards the door, ushering Damian out ahead of himself. He flipped the sign on the door--THE INVESTIGATOR IS OUT. IN CASE OF EMERGENCY, PLEASE CALL: (862)-555-9321--and locked up, for habit's sake more than any belief that it would actually keep someone out of his office who wanted to break in. "This sounds like a taco tax situation. Steph ever explained to you how that works?"

"The purchase of tacos can be traded for assistance or advice," Damian recited dutifully. "I need neither," he added, even as he quickened his steps slightly to catch up to Tim's longer stride.

"Sure you don't," Tim said dryly. "You just showed up at my office all hangdog for no reason."

"What is 'hangdog?'"

Tim really wanted to say, "Nothing much; what's hanging with you?" but he knew that--despite Stephanie, Cassandra, and Dick's best efforts--there was no chance Damian would get the joke. "It means you look like a kicked puppy," he said instead, hands in his pockets as he turned the corner for the stairs.

"I am in no distress," Damian said, with stubborn insistence.

"Sure you aren't."

Damian bristled, coming to a stop abruptly, and Tim turned to look up at him from several stairs lower down. "This was a mistake," he said flatly. The line of his shoulders was tight and hostile. "I do not know why--I will be taking my leave. Apologies for the interrup--"

"Screw off," Tim said, exasperated. "You came to me, you don't get to get pissy when I try to actually talk to you, even if I'm being a dick about it. Look, whatever, fine; you don't need my help." He threw up his hands, turning back to the stairs. "I guess we're just hanging out, like normal people do with a friend of a mutual friend." That was a reductive description of what Stephanie was to either of them, but--whatever. He took two more steps and then hit upon an idea. "Cass has been teaching you to skateboard, right?"

"She has," Damian said, suspicion coloring his voice.

"Cool. We'll swing by my place, grab a couple boards, hit the park."

"You skateboard." Damian's voice remained flat.

"Kid," Tim said, exasperated, "I'm the one who taught Cass. Which took, like, four hours and now she's better at it than I am, because she's Cassandra fucking Wayne, but still."

***

They didn't go to a skate park.

On the way to Tim's apartment, he'd grilled Damian thoroughly regarding what Cassandra had taught him so far, and decided that there was a better (stupider) use of their time. Damian, for his part, was intrigued.

"It sounds like an engaging test of skill," he'd said, eyes glinting, and Tim had grinned.

"It's also illegal," he'd said cheerfully. "Of course, trespassing and illegal entry are probably less of a thrill for you than for the average skate punk." They shouldn't have been a thrill for Tim at this point, either, but sue him. There was a reason he'd ended up in the Girl Wonder's rolodex, and it wasn't for not being an antiauthoritarian adrenaline junkie.

What they were about to do was a classic rite of passage within Gotham skate culture. The first time Tim had heard about it, he'd been thirteen, and therefore not nearly cool enough for the fifteen-to-seventeen-year-olds that hung out at his favorite skate park to acknowledge his existence. The older kids, the eighteen-to-twenty-year-olds, were much more chill about being willing to teach new faces; but those kids in their mid-teens had something to prove. To themselves, their teachers, their parents, the older kids. They didn't let kids like Tim in on their secrets willingly.

But Tim had been, as Tim continued to be, both unconscionably nosy and very good at flying under the radar.

A kid Tim had only ever known as "Scoop" had showed up one day with his arm in a cast and half his face scraped up, looking nonetheless pleased with himself as he claimed the center of attention amongst that mid-teen crowd. There'd been a lot of whispering, a lot of back slapping, and just enough details dropped for Tim to figure out what had happened, and why it mattered.

Gotham City's infrastructure was, to a brick, old and confusing and unnecessarily complicated, and its storm sewer system was no exception. There were culverts under the city large enough to float a mobile home down the river with room to spare, entire streams which had been turned into trapezoidal concrete flumes, and detention ponds that never drained the way they were supposed to. And then there was this:

The Gotham Aqueduct.

It was one of the few above-ground portions of the storm sewer system, and despite being a triumph of masonry techniques, it made no sense. A lot of old school civil engineering had been pretty myopic, focused on one particular result with no understanding of the subsequent consequences (see: turning urban streambeds into concrete flumes in order to prevent stream migration, thereby also preventing soil infiltration while simultaneously increasing the velocity of the water, resulting in rampant downstream flooding), but even for the time period, the Gotham Aqueduct was bizarre.

The main section--the one Tim and Damian had scaled a chainlink fence to access--was approximately a half mile of semi-circular brick switchbacks that ended abruptly in a twenty foot drop into the reservoir. The slope along the centerline of the tunnel was so steep that the aqueduct almost never actually had any water in it, because of the speed at which the water flowed through it in the aftermath of a storm.

(Presumably, the switchbacks had been intended to slow said velocity. Functionally, the first couple switches tended to overtop and flood nearby streets because water didn't really love to navigate 90° angles. Tim was begging the people who'd designed the damn thing to think about K-values.)

Naturally, Gotham skaters had been treating the thing as a half-pipe since the day skateboards had been invented. The bricks made it unpredictable; the slope made it fast; and the fence along the top edges meant there was exactly one safe opportunity to bail once you got moving, about three yards before the drop off into the reservoir, where there was about five linear feet of fence set back from the edge in order to accomodate a gate.

Eight years ago, Scoop had missed his chance to get off and been forced to ditch his board, breaking his wrist and scraping himself up in the process. Of course, it had been impressive that he'd even made it that far; most everyone wiped out long before the reservoir, and ended up crawling up the sides to make a painful and embarassing trip back over the fence.

A Gotham skate culture rite of passage.

Tim laced his fingers and pushed his hands upwards in a stretch, blowing out a breath. "Let's get our story straight before we do this," he said sternly. "If you get seriously injured, we're telling people that Jason pushed you off a roof."

Damian rolled his eyes. "I will not get injured," he said confidently. He was still in the same very nice clothes as he'd showed up to Tim's office wearing, but Tim had put his foot down about trying to skate in dress shoes, so he'd borrowed a pair of Tim's Vans. That he was three inches shorter than Tim and still wore the same shoe size was depressing evidence that he wasn't going to stay short for long.

Tim, though, had taken the opportunity to change; switched his work boots and khakis for sweats and Converse, and he'd opted for a long sleeve tshirt despite the heat, in the vague hope it might cut down on the inevitable road rash in his future. Last time he'd skated the aqueduct, he'd been fifteen and a much better skater (more consistent practice) than he was now. He'd still missed the chance to bail and opted to take a dive into the reservoir rather than try to stop. Stephanie had had to use a grapple line to fish him out.

Choosing a swim over a crash wouldn't be an option today: the water level was too low after the fire department was forced to overtax the system while fighting the efforts of an arsonist collective.

Tim shook his head. He didn't really think Damian was going to get hurt; the kid had a lot of advantages compared to the average fourteen-year-old moron on a skateboard--better balance, better reflexes, better understanding of how to fall safely, not to mention he was best friends with Superman--but it was a terrible idea to get cocky about it. "I'm serious, Dames. This thing is going to be a wild ride. Stay low, stay alert, and get ready to bail if you have to."

"Yes, yes. Your concern is touching. I agree to sell out my brother to protect a near stranger should we get into trouble." Damian gestured toward the aqueduct. "Are we going to do this?"

Tim tipped his head back, laughing, and held up three fingers. "On my count. Three, two--

"One." In unison, they shifted their weight and dropped into the aqueduct.

Tim let out a whoop of excitement, and even Damian let out a small gasp, but both were rapidly snatched away by the vibration of the bricks and the roar of the wind. The first switchback came up fast, and Tim dropped his center of gravity as low as he could, fingers nearly brushing the ground as he leaned hard into the turn. The trucks on their boards were practically screaming already. Damian's smile didn't drop, not exactly, but it did turn downright feral, his green eyes sharpening as he realized Tim hadn't been fucking kidding.

Tim's teeth nearly rattled out of his head as the bricks whizzed past, and his eyes were watering from the wind as they continued to accelerate, faster and faster. There was no time to think; only to react. Every slightest shift of weight held the potential for catastrophic failure--and it was exhilarating.

On turn four, Damian came in at the wrong angle and nearly threw himself off balance when he overcorrected; Tim yelled at him to stay fucking low, and Damian snarled in response. On turn seven, Tim nearly wiped out. Damian managed to grab his sleeve and yank him upright while still somehow making the turn himself.

Turn eleven--the last turn--was where it all went to shit.

Tim came out of it a little ahead of Damian, and he purposefully swung high up the wall to give himself a better angle on the gate access before stepping on the back of his board and braking as hard as he dared. It wouldn't do to wipe out right here, and he still needed enough speed to make it back up the other wall--it was heartstopping, heartwrenching, but he let out a triumphant yell as he hit the gap just right.

He made the top of the aqueduct, grinding the edge with a mildly terrifying crunching noise before the fence pole caught his hip and slammed him to a stop. He spun on his board, bracing himself to catch a high school freshman to the midsection--

Just in time to see the moment that Damian's wheel caught a loose brick and yanked his board off course.

There was no time to think: only to react. Tim was throwing himself and his board forward again before he understood what his own plan was. Luckily the brick had stolen enough of Damian's speed for Tim to catch him on a cross-angle. One arm snagged Damian around the middle; his other hand shot outwards, catching at the final fence pole and only barely managing to get the first two joints of his fingers around it.

It wasn't enough to stop them. Tim had the insane grip strength of an urban climber who spent a lot of time scaling brick walls and pulling himself up onto rooftops by his fingertips, but between their combined body weight and their momentum, there were hundreds of pounds of force he was fighting against. He could only slow their flight by a fraction of a second--

Which was enough for Damian's Robin reflexes to kick in.

The two of them spun around the fence pole, grounded by Damian's own iron grip, and then tumbled across the concrete on the other side when he let go. Through the ringing in his ears and his own panting breaths, Tim heard the splash of two skateboards dropping into the reservoir.

He slowly pushed himself over onto his back, wincing as his shoulder protested loudly, and stared upwards at Gotham's moody gray sky. "Well," he rasped. "What'd you think?"

Damian moved in Tim's periphery, and Tim looked over to find him inspecting his palm, shiny and raw from where it scraped against the fence pole. His clothes were ruined, and there was the start of a beautiful bruise on his cheekbone. "A qualified success," he said, with satisfaction.

Tim stared at him for a second. Then he burst out laughing, draping his arm over his eyes, and after a moment, Damian started laughing too.

"We're never telling Batman about this," Tim ordered, when he'd managed to calm himself down slightly. He rubbed at his shoulder--it had taken the brunt of their impact against the ground, he was pretty sure--and sat upright, brushing his hair out of his face. He could see the skateboards from here, half-submerged where they'd caught onto a floating raft of trash fifty feet out into the reservoir. "Damn," he sighed.

Damian followed his gaze, and a frown ticked at the corners of his lips. "I find it unlikely we would be able to retrieve them."

"Yeah, no. Not even with a grapple." Tim huffed another laugh, shaking his head. "Good thing I'm a millionaire and can afford to replace them," he added dryly. "C'mon, up. We've managed to crashland by the corner of the treatment plant. We gotta get out of here before the cops make an appearance."

Green eyes narrowed, though Damian did find his way to his feet and fall into step next to Tim. "But you aren't," he said.

"Aren't what?" Tim asked distractedly. His vision nearly whited out when he tried to stretch out his shoulder, and he caught Damian's arm in a death grip to keep himself upright and moving.

"A millionaire." Damian brushed his hand off (not unkindly) and circled around to Tim's other side, inspecting his shoulder with brusque, professional movements.

Tim chose not to be offended that Damian had been investigating his finances. He was kidding himself if he thought any of the Bats hadn't. "First aid can wait," he said gently, ushering Damian onwards. "And, yes, I am. Officially, on paper, I have a net worth of a hundred and something blah blah blah. I just can't actually touch most of it, by design; almost everything liquid immediately gets funneled into various charities. Help me over?"

With enviable grace, Damian found his way to the top of the chainlink fence, straddling it as he leaned down to clasp Tim's good arm and pull him upwards.

"It's a lot like what Bruce does," Tim added. He hooked the toe of one shoe into the other side of the fence, holding tightly onto the top bar (Damian's hands hovered nearby in case he lost his grip), and carefully swung his other leg around. "Except it's chump change comparatively, and it's not my own foundation I'm putting money into. I'm also not trying to fund the Justice League and probably a hundred other vigilantes while maintaining a frivolous playboy persona, so percentage-wise I hold onto a lot less of it." Tim stretched down from the top of the fence and then dropped lightly to the ground.

Well--he meant to drop lightly to the ground. He actually tripped over his own feet slightly and stumbled. Damian snorted, and Tim flipped him off. "Fuck off. Anyway. I'd keep back even less--my bills are practically nonexistent; I bought my apartment as a cash sale, I don't have student loans, I don't even own a car--but I try to keep a discretionary fund around in case Red Bird doesn't make enough money to pay rent one month or I have to bail Steph out of jail again or something."

"Again," Damian repeated.

"Again," Tim confirmed, smirking, as he gazed up at Damian where he still sat atop the fence. "Seriously, Bruce has no idea what we got up to while he wasn't looking." He gestured between the two of them, raising his eyebrows, and then at the general predicament they currently found themselves in. "We've been hanging out for like two hours, Dames. Steph and I have been hanging out for seven years."

With a tilt of his head to acknowledge the point, Damian leapt down from the from the top of the fence, landing with a panther's grace and a fourteen-year-old's smug pride.

"Yeah, yeah," Tim huffed, reaching out to ruffle the kid's hair. "You're so much cooler than me. Whatever. What d'you want for--ah, shit." The hour hand on his watch was way closer to eight than Tim had realized. "No time to eat unless we do it on the move. I've gotta get you back to Bristol for patrol."

"You should come to the cave as well to get your shoulder checked out," Damian told him sternly. He paused, tilting his chin slightly, and Tim was coming to recognize that glint in his eye as a herald of Damian's patently mean and deeply hilarious sense of humor. "We'll tell everyone that Jason pushed you off a roof."

Tim was still laughing as they pulled Damian's bike up to Wayne Manor.

***

Whyever Damian had showed up to Tim's office that afternoon, he never let it slip. But it did... turn into a thing, after that. Damian showed up; Tim found something for them to do for a couple hours; Damian asked a probing question about Tim's life and/or his methods; Tim set aside the sarcasm and did his best to answer it.

(Robin was just bored, Tim had decided, as he was falling asleep on Friday night. The Black Bat was off spreading the fear of the bat across international waters, Batgirl was in space getting up to shenanigans with Young Justice, Nightwing was too busy with a gang war in Blüdhaven to be spending time in Gotham, and Tim was a mildly interesting puzzle hanging out at the edges of Damian's family. A puzzle that had even accidentally conditioned itself years ago to asking, "How high?" whenever Robin said, "Jump.")

Saturday, Tim woke up to find Damian climbing in through his bedroom window. He had already thrown a pillow by the time he realized who it was (force of habit of hearing the bell ding at an hour that Stephanie knew he would be asleep if she came by), and it bounced off Damian's scowling face. "I'd apologize, but I'm not actually sorry. Come back at noon," Tim mumbled, rolling over and pulling the blankets over his head. Next to him, Bernard snored loudly, blissfully unaware of the teenager skulking his way back out onto the fire escape.

Tim had samosas and paneer tikka masala waiting on the coffee table when Damian returned, at 12:00 exactly, and this time it was a Switch controller that Tim threw at his head. Damian caught it and proceeded to kick Tim's ass at Mario Kart for an hour.

"How are you so good at this," Tim groaned, slouched low into his couch with his feet kicked up onto the coffee table amongst the empty tupperware containers and dirty plates.

"I play against a speedster on a weekly basis," Damian said dryly.

Tim snorted. "Right. I mean, Steph plays against Bart all the time, and she still fucking sucks at this game, but I'll accept the premise. Tell me, though--is 'Thunderheart' regretting the superhero name she chose for herself when she was nine yet, or...?"

"I was actually talking about Kid Flash, but you tell me, Drake: does it matter how ridiculous the moniker she uses is when she's one of the single most powerful metahumans on Earth?" Damian countered.

"Point." Tim backed out of the race selection and scrolled through the wheels available for his bike, ignoring the snort that very clearly said that Damian didn't think any changes to the stats on his set up were going to help him win.

"You know her true identity as well, don't you?" Damian asked abruptly, just before the starting whistle on their next set of races.

"The second Iris West," Tim confirmed. "One of Wally and Linda Park-West's adorable little muppet children."

"How many civilian identities do you know? How did you deduce them?"

"Well, for the Flash family specifically, I didn't actually deduce anything; Bart just told me. Or he told me enough, at least." Tim groaned as his bike took a dive off of the course after being hit by a red shell. "There's a lot of that for what I know with regards to the greater superhero community--I was never a member of Young Justice, obviously, given that I'm not a superhero, but Steph dragged me around to a lot of their bonding exercises, so I was sort of honorary. Knowing the sidekicks tends to make it easy to figure out the Justice League."

"But you figured out the identities of the Gotham-based heroes on your own."

"Mostly. The others in Gotham--Huntress, Black Canary, etc--aren't as paranoid about covering their tracks as your whole brood is, and most of you are pretty easy when you walk in knowing Bruce Wayne is Batman. Steph generally kept mum on secret IDs unless I'd already figured it out myself, but I probably wouldn't have known Cass's Batgirl or Oracle even existed if I hadn't been friends with her." Tim gave up on trying to beat Damian the normal way and just shoved a hand into his face to keep him from being able to dodge the banana he was throwing.

(The conversation devolved at that point.)

Sunday night, Tim was shooting pool at a dive bar in one of his more lowkey aliases when Damian appeared out of nowhere to loudly judge his shots. The kid refused to answer how he'd gotten in (though at least he was dressed like a normal person and not like Bruce Wayne's son), but Tim decided after a brief argument that it was in no way his problem. If Batman didn't want his fourteen-year-old to have a good enough fake ID to somehow convince people he was seven years older than he was, then he shouldn't have given him the tools to make one. They played a few rounds, and despite the shit talking, Tim won most of them.

They were walking down the street afterwards, Tim with a chili dog in each hand and Damian eating the fries, when Damian said, out of the blue, "There is a firearm registered to your name."

Tim chewed his next bite a little longer than he usually would have, trying to discern if that was judgement or curiosity hiding behind the casual tone. "There is," he confirmed. It was a simple six-shot .38 revolver; Tim had no intentions of ever being in a fire fight that would require him to get off more than one or two shots, much less six, and revolvers were way less likely to jam than semiautomatics. "I also have a concealed carry permit."

"But you don't actually carry it."

"I do sometimes." Tim licked chili off of his wrist, pretending he didn't feel Damian's surprised gaze boring into the side of his head. "Look, I may not have the obscene level of trauma surrounding them that your dad does, but I don't like guns. I don't believe in capital punishment--I don't even believe in the prison industry and its focus on retribution over rehabilitation. People can change; in fact, people do change, all the time. But."

He took a deep breath. "I am not a superhero. What you and the rest of your family do, Dames, is not something that anyone can do just because they want to do it. You are brilliant detectives and above Olympic level athletes, trained not only in a wide variety of martial arts but also in deescalation and hostage negotiation techniques. There's a genetic component to that. There's also a truly insane physical and mental training regimen.

"The simple fact of the matter is that even if I wanted to become what you already are, which I don't, I literally can't. I've come at it too late to ever be as good as one of you. And that's fine, because for the most part, the stuff that I do doesn't involve bashing heads together or making daring rescues. But every once in a while, I find myself in a situation where my life or somebody else's life is being threatened, and you and I are both aware of how much more difficult it is to stop someone from hurting someone else without hurting them in turn. In the moment, when it comes down to an innocent person's life versus the life of the person who is actively attempting to maim or injure them, I'm not willing to discard any of the potential tools at my disposal just because I find them distasteful."

Damian was quiet for a couple of blocks after that. Tim was wandering them loosely towards the bus stop that would get the kid back to Bristol--ah, nostalgia; he and Steph used to ride this line two or three times a week--but hadn't yet made it obvious that he was pointing them in any particular direction.

"It is an interesting perspective," Damian said, finally. "I hadn't expected such nuance, given your vocal distaste for the Red Hood."

"The Red Hood is a hypocrite," Tim said flatly. "I've got more respect for Deadshot's moral code than I do Hood's. At least 'I'll kill anyone you pay me to' is fucking consistent. Don't--don't fucking get me started on the number of bullet holes he's put in random enforcers and runners. Some of them undoubtedly were absolute scum whose lists of crimes would turn even Hood's stomach, but just as many of them are people trying to get through the fucking day. People who could get out if you just gave them a fucking stepstool, which is purportedly something Hood cares about."

Tim slammed the remains of his second chili dog into the nearest trashcan, his appetite suddenly gone. "'I'm just doing what Batman can't,' what a load of schlock. Dames, listen to me: I know I don't really know you and it's none of my business to say this, but I'm so fucking proud of you for the steps you've made to break away from the League conditioning and follow your dad's code instead. Whenever you grow up and start to figure out what's actually true to you, though, just promise me you're going to be smarter about it than Hood has been."

Damian was staring at him again. Tim supposed he probably wasn't used to hearing it stated, blatantly, that people were proud of him, or that they would keep being proud of him even if he decided one day that he did actually think killing people was okay under certain circumstances.

Tim fidgeted. "Just my two cents," he offered. The silence continued to stretch on. Akwardly.

"Shouldn't you have been in Bristol getting ready for patrol like two hours ago?" he finally asked, bluntly, because he was feeling a little like a bug under a microscope, and Robin was still staring at him, and he still didn't really understand why the kid was even here.

Damian shook off whatever had been going through his head. "It is my night off," he said, ducking his head back towards his fries and leading the way towards the bus stop. (Figured he'd already known where they were going.)

Tim wanted to ask why he wasn't in Kansas or Metropolis, hanging out with the younger Superman, or why he wasn't in San Francisco with the Titans, but he didn't. The kid was bored, and Tim was there, and Damian wanted to know why Stephanie liked him so much. Probably.

(Tim was beginning to doubt that theory, but he had no idea what to replace it with.)

Monday afternoon, Damian found Tim at the Department of Finance, pursuing a records request for one of his cases.

"You could obtain this information much more easily and quickly through other means," Damian murmured, hands in his pockets as they waited in the lobby. He'd sidled up sideways to Tim's conversation with the office manager, and Tim had done his level best to ignore him until Maureen had become too clearly distracted by his presence, at which point he'd been forced to tell her that Damian was his assistant. This had earned him an eyeroll, but Damian must have finally taken Stephanie's lessons on how to "yes, and" to heart and hadn't argued. "I have not had cause to assess your hacking capabilities myself, but Gordon considers you moderately competent."

Tim raised an eyebrow. He kept his voice similarly low, and turned his head partially away from the camera in the corner of the room to make it difficult to read his lips, same as Damian had. "High praise. But there's a difference between what I do, and what you do. Namely, legality, and therefore paper trails. Besides--you'd be shocked how useful it can be to build rapport with the office staff who do all the paperwork and greet all the visitors. I know CPAs who explicitly start their tax audits not by investigating the spreadsheets, but by talking to the secretaries. Support staff, janitors, waitresses, bartenders--these are all people who hear and see a lot of things because people who think they're better than them pay no attention to them. Relatedly: there's a reason your dad pays his PA as well as he does. It's a good habit. Make sure you continue it when you take on a role at WE."

"Noted," Damian said, looking like he actually was making a mental note of that, and Tim didn't bother to resist the urge to reach out and ruffle his hair. He'd gotten away with it after the aqueduct adventure, when his shoulder (which was still sore, but workable) was fucked up, but it got his hand slapped this time.

Offended or not, Damian still shadowed him all the way back to 4032 Dixon Ave, at which point Tim paused on the sidewalk next to the propped open side door, resigned to the idea that this was happening whether he liked it or not. "Okay, look. It's Monday," he said.

"Yes?" Damian was looking at him like he was reevaluating his opinion of Tim's intelligence.

Tim sighed, shifting his files higher up into the crook of his elbow and bracing his other hand on the doorframe. "Monday means my boss is here."

Damian's opinion of him plummeted even lower. "Your boss doesn't exi--"

Tim slapped a hand over Damian's mouth. "My boss, Mr. Draper, is here today," he said firmly. "He doesn't know anything about anything, including who it ultimately is who's paying his salary. As far as he knows, I know nothing about anything either. Do you understand me?" He lifted his hand and placed it back on the doorframe, barring Damian's way in.

"First of all, had I been anyone else in our immediate acquaintance, I would have bitten your hand for that; consider yourself lucky I am above such base instincts. Second of all, I absolutely do not understand you," Damian said flatly. "You mean to tell me, Drake, that you have hired a real person to be your fake boss--"

"There has to be someone until I'm old enough to get my own license," Tim said tiredly. He and Stephanie had already had this argument a dozen times. "And if I had to spend a couple years answering phone calls and making coffee runs before I was allowed to actually do any investigating, I'd have gone full supervillain."

"Remind me what you were just saying earlier about legality and paper trails--"

"Screw off. Are you gonna behave or not? I'm sending you home if you won't pretend to be having a client meeting with me or something."

They glared at each other for a long moment. Tim had the upper hand, literally and metaphorically, but Damian was the biological synthesis of two of the bitchiest people on the planet Earth, so it was still a pretty even match. Finally, with a roll of his eyes, he ducked beneath Tim's arm and pushed through the door into the building.

"What reason could I possibly have to hire a private investigator?"

"You've got four flights of stairs to figure it out," Tim told him, and waved a hand at the super as they passed him, headed out to smoke with an unlit cigarette already dangling out of the side of his mouth. "Maybe you want me to look into whether or not Bruce has another biological kid floating around out there."

The elbow to the diaphragm that earned him had him wheezing all the way up to the office.

Damian didn't come up with a fake mystery for Tim to be solving, but he did stick his nose in the air and tell Mike Haskins (the actor Tim had hired to play Alvin Draper), haughtily, that his case was confidential and he was only interested in working with Tim, and that was good enough. They passed a quiet couple of hours in Tim's office--Damian ended up on top of his filing cabinets after picking the locks and rifling through them, because there was nowhere else for him to sit--as Tim sifted through the copies of the records he'd gotten from the Department of Finance and Damian took what had to have been the world's most uncomfortable nap.

Tim was starting to wonder if the kid was grounded or something. It would explain the lack of patrol, the fact that he wasn't seeking out Dick or Jason instead--Dick was too busy with the gang war to indulge him and would have pressured him to return to Gotham, and it was fifty-fifty on whether Jason would have held him hostage, to infuriate Bruce, or ratted him out to Alfred, to infuriate Damian.

Running off to the Titans would be guaranteed to result in Batman hunting him down and dragging him back by the cape, and any time spent with Jon Kent would probably also mean time spent with Clark Kent, which would mean Batman wouldn't even have to hunt Robin down; he'd just get a politely concerned phone call from his best friend.

Tim texted Stephanie that Damian was being weird, although he didn't expect a response until she was done being crowned the Queen of Mars or whatever she had going on with Young Justice, and then he texted Cassandra to tell her that he missed her. If Cass were home, Damian definitely wouldn't be having whatever crisis he was having all over Tim's office.

Tuesday night, Tim finally found out what was going on. And he was right: if the Black Bat had been home, Damian wouldn't have been spending so much time hovering over Tim's shoulder.

She was, after all, the one who'd asked him to keep an eye on Tim while she dealt another blow to the League of Assassins.

***

Tim woke up in the Batcave.

He only recognized it so immediately because he'd just been in its Medbay a few days earlier, letting Alfred determine whether or not he'd managed to tear his rotator cuff during the "unexplained incident" he and Damian had been involved in. It was easy to figure out why he was here now, given the pounding pain ripping through his midsection.

Tim woke up in the Batcave with a stab wound.

Which was, to be fair, better circumstances than the last time Tim had woken up from a stab wound related to the League of Assassins. Yeah--it was coming back to him. He closed his eyes against the brightness of the lights, breathing out through his nose.

Tim had been on the roof of some random apartment building in the Diamond District, which was never his favorite place in Gotham in which to be on a random rooftop. The buildings were too high and too far apart on the whole for him to easily maneuver without a grappling hook, which he staunchly continued to refuse whenever Stephanie offered him one. It seemed like a really good way to get himself in all sorts of trouble with both the police and Gotham's underworld if anyone ever discovered him carrying it.

But alas: Laney Franklin's wife was cheating on her with a beautiful lesbian couple with high class taste, so he wasn't exactly going to catch evidence of the affair at one of Gotham's many seedy motels. Skyscrapers and champagne and long walks up ugly stairwells it was.

He hadn't really been surprised to hear the purposeful thud of boots hitting the roof behind him; after all, it had been over twenty-four hours since he'd last seen Damian, which broke the trend of the past five days. "Rob," he'd greeted, without looking up from his camera.

"Timothy," Damian had returned (thankfully; it would have been embarassing if Tim had missed that called shot) as he took a seat next to Tim, and Tim's hands had briefly frozen while adjusting the focus on his shot.

Sure, he'd been purposefully needling the kid by using nicknames without having had permission offered to him like Stephanie (eventually) had, but he'd expected to be "Drake" always and forever for the rest of his life. Were they actually friends now? He didn't have a problem with that, but it was certainly a surprise.

He finished taking his shot and took a guess as to what had brought Batman and Robin to this corner of the city in the first place. "Catwoman busy tonight?"

"Unfortunately," Damian had said, so sourly that Tim had choked on a laugh.

"I take it Batman has things... covered."

Damian had made a disgusted noise, and Tim had laughed again. Then he'd heard the faintest whisper of a blade being unsheathed, and things had gotten--

Hectic, after that.

Tim reopened his eyes, biting back a groan as he levered himself up to sitting, and carefully removed the IV line from his arm and the electrodes from his chest. There was a murmur of voices out in the main chamber of the cave, and he was, as he always had been, unconscionably nosy.

He was still wearing his jeans but he raided the lockers for a shirt on his way out, relieved to find his own "Everything's Bat-ter in Gotham" tanktop stashed away inside Cassandra's, and then he hovered, not quite out of sight to the canny observer (Alfred, Bruce, and Damian alike were usually canny observers, but they were distracted by their conversation) and comfortably within earshot.

"--is not why my grandfather would be interested in Timothy," Damian was saying, his voice high and fast with impatience in a way that said he was annoyed with the conversation. "He is a reasonably gifted detective with a temptingly flexible moral code and unusual familiarity with both our inner workings and those of the superhero community at large. The question, Father, is how and why Ra's is even aware of his existence."

Wait. Tim set his hand over the stab wound in his side, frowning heavily. The ninjas had been after him? Not Damian?

"Black Bat gave no indication of what was going on when she asked you to keep an eye on him?"

"Ah," Tim said, reflexively, and then remembered he wasn't actually part of this conversation. Three heads snapped towards him, and he ruefully moved forward fully into the light.

"Master Drake, please--"

"Tim, please." He waved away the concern as Alfred and Damian both took steps forward to help him walk. "I'm fine; not the first time I've been stabbed in the spleen, and knowing my luck it won't be the last. Were you able to get hold of Cass?"

"Went to voicemail," Bruce said, gruffly. His blue eyes were sharp as he watched Tim lower himself carefully into one of the chairs at the table near the Batcomputer, on which grainy night footage of the rooftop fight was playing out silently.

"I appreciate the compliment, by the way," Tim told Damian, "but your grandfather isn't interested in me. At least, not as anything but leverage against Cass. Pretty sure the only time he's ever referred to me in conversation has been as her lapdog." He pulled his phone out of his pocket, grimacing at the traces of blood still present, and scrolled through his contacts. "Here we go," he said, with satisfaction, and set it on the table as he turned it onto speakerphone.

It rang twice, and then--

"Go for Prudence," she drawled, so very English and so very sarcastic. There was gunfire in the background, and it was staticky like there was wind blowing across the microphone.

"High, darling," Tim drawled back. "Hand the phone to the Bat on your right, would you?"

"Ah, tictac! No can do, she's very busy." Another gunshot. This one much closer. "Pru had probably been the one holding the gun" kind of close.

"I know she's busy, Pru. Her being busy is why I'm calling. Her being busy is why I have a brand new stab wound to add to my collection."

A pause. The phone audibly flipped to speaker, and Pru called, "Batsy, I thought you said they were just trying to kidnap Tim."

"They are," Cassandra her, more distant and barely audible over the spotty connection. A thud; a groan, and she added, "Stay down this time," in her scariest voice.

Prudence asked, "Then how come he's saying he got stabbed?"

There was a jumble of audio feedback as the phone changed hands. "How did you get stabbed? What happened to Robin?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "Well, C, when you don't tell me that there's a kidnapping threat against me and you just send Ra's al Ghul's grandson to hang out with me all day, there ends up being some miscommunication about which of us the ninjas are focused on, and I end up shoving the kid out of the way of a knife."

"Ridiculous," Damian added icily, his arms crossed over his chest. "I was wearing body armor. You were not."

"I could have been," Tim countered, "if someone had told either of us what was going on."

Cass huffed, managing to sound annoyed with the both of them even while in the middle of raiding a League base or whatever the hell it was she was up to. "I thought it'd be obvious."

"Can I ask," Bruce said slowly, "why Tim is even involved in this in the first place?"

"He drove me here," Cassandra said lightly. "The first time."

Tim bolted upright, then immediately regretted it and set a hand over his stab wound with a hiss. "C, you're in Nanda Parbat?"

"You've been to Nanda Parbat?" Damian asked Tim incredulously. He looked at the phone. "You're currently in Nanda Parbat?"

"What do you mean he drove you there," Bruce repeated flatly.

"When you were supposed to be dead and I realized you actually weren't," Cassandra began.

"When Cass was having her mental breakdown road trip of grief and self-discovery," Tim began.

"Rude," she huffed.

"Tell me I'm wrong." He waved a hand. "Never mind, point is: she recruited me as team mascot and secondary moral compass for the semi-feral, only-recently-ex assassins she was teaming up with."

"Rude!" Prudence yelled in the background.

"And then he drove me here," Cassandra repeated.

"Don't sell yourself short, TJ," Prudence added. "You were a little more than just a mascot; blowing up the bases was your idea."

"Yes," Tim said, feeling his face heat up. "Well. It just seemed... prudent."

Cassandra booed. Prudence booed. Damian looked like he wanted to boo. Bruce just looked constipated, which probably meant he also wanted to boo.

"Sorry. Look, I'm locked down in the Batcave now; Ra's tried and failed to gain leverage to counter whatever it is you're doing right now." Tim grimaced. "Do we want to know what you're doing right now?"

"Ra's started it," was all Cassandra offered in response to that.

Tim rested his forehead in the palm of his hand, closing his eyes. "Right," he said. "Ra's started it. Look, whatever. If you see Damian's mom, could you give her my business card again? I'm serious that Drake Industries could use her. Anyone ballsy enough to take Luthor on from inside his own company has exactly the kind of forward thinking we need."

"I've given it to her like three times now," Cassandra told him gently. "I don't think she's interested."

"I can and would fire our current CEO."

"I know, Tim."

"I've been dragging the company kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century; really pushing for an eco-friendly and worker-forward approach, but it's like pulling teeth when it comes to the board, and god knows I want to kill myself every time I have to spend more than three or four hours at a time pretending to be a respectable businessman. I could really use someone with a vision who's willing to push forward their own agenda without needing me to hold their hand."

"Tim, I promise you. I gave her your elevator pitch word for word last time."

He sighed. "I can still dream."

"Yes, you can," Cassandra told him, sounding amused. "And Pru wants to know if you'll also be dreaming about paying her phone bill for the month since you're wasting all her international minutes right now."

"She's a globetrotting antihero and she doesn't spring for an unlimited international plan?" Tim asked scathingly. "Tell her I'm disappointed in her. Then flip her off when she flips you off."

A pause.

"Done," Cassandra reported. "Do you need anything else?"

"Keep yourself safe, please? One stab wound between us is already too many. My poor spleen can't take much more of this."

"Why is it always the spleen when you get attacked by ninjas?"

"This is all I wanna know." Tim sighed again. "Since Steph's off world, you have a brief reprieve before Bruce and Damian explain to her that you've put me on Ra's al Ghul's radar and gotten me stabbed twice. Might wanna figure out how to defend yourself, because she's going to tear you a new one."

"Easy," Cass said confidently. "Batman and Robin needed Batgirl; Bruce needed the Black Bat; Cass needed Tim."

Tim blinked. He blinked again, harder. "Love you, too, Cassie," he rasped.

"I need to go. Tell Bruce I'll be back in a few days."

"You got it." He hung up, groaning, and leaned back in the chair. "Your daughter is simultaneously one of my favorite people in the entire world, and also someone I would frequently like to strangle," he informed Bruce. "'I thought it'd be obvious.' I know she operates on a literal different wavelength than the rest of us, but c'mon."

Bruce had his eyes closed; one hand on his hip and the other pinching the bridge of his nose. "When I asked her what happened while I was gone," he said, slowly, "she told me, and I quote, 'Oh, you know. The usual.'"

"To be fair," Tim said magnanimously, "for Cass, fighting assassins, struggling with her mental health, and taking down worldwide conspiracies with the force of her convictions is the usual."

***

Alfred did manage to bully Tim back into a hospital bed after that. Not that it took much, because the painkillers were wearing off and Tim was starting to deeply regret the decision to be upright.

He wasn't surprised when Damian flopped into a chair next to his bed. He wasn't even surprised when he pulled over the bedside tray on its swinging arm and started shuffling a deck of cards.

"So Cass asked you to keep an eye on me, huh?" Tim asked dryly, as he watched Damian deal. "And you decided that you might as well take the opportunity to figure out what makes me tick."

Damian tapped the remaining cards sharply on the tray, straightening them up, and set them in the middle. "I had assumed she believed you to be in over your head regarding one of your cases. Not that she expected my grandfather to send a team of ninja to kidnap you."

"Without the context of either how I'm involved in her vendetta against the League or that her current trip is in pursuit of that vendetta, it's not an 'obvious' assumption," Tim agreed. "What are we playing?"

"Go Fish."

Tim snorted.

"Fuck off. We are both capable and inclined to count cards; I don't see a point in pursuing a more sophisticated game. And I could always leave you here alone to be bored out of your mind, if you'd prefer."

"Nope, it's fine." Tim reorganized his cards, humming. "Got any 2's?"

Damian eyed him suspiciously for a moment, and then handed him a card.

"What I want to know," Tim said, a couple turns later, "is how come you were only coming around for a few hours a day if you were supposed to be on protection detail."

With a snort, Damian said, "You don't honestly think I was only there for a couple of hours a day."

Tim paused in the middle of drawing a card. "No."

"Yes."

"No."

"You should work on your situational awareness."

"Oh my god."

"You didn't do anything especially embarassing during my surveillance. I am, however, concerned about the amount of take out you consume."

"You're a menace," Tim said despairingly. He set down his cards and flopped back into the pillows of his hospital bed, running his hands down his face. "Fucking shit, Dames."

"I enjoyed our acquaintance far more than I anticipated," Damian added, with the same blunt abruptness with which he'd been interrogating Tim for the last week. He was looking firmly at his cards, and there was a pink tinge to the tips of his ears. "I suspect Cassandra had the ulterior motive of attempting to get us to bond."

Maybe. The Black Bat was sneaky, but she wasn't usually that kind of schemer.

"I just think it was inevitable," Tim told the bright, obnoxious lights on the ceiling. "We should count ourselves lucky we struck up a friendship before Steph decided to duct tape us together or something."

[duckduckquackity]

Hello, my friends! This is a canon divergent QSMP roleplay blog. This blog is a member of the Yaoiverse roleplay.

This account is ran by @howdytheresam.

Information about Y!Quackity:

Former member of the Federation.

Y!ElQuackity has a seperate blog from Y!Quackity. It is not active yet.

Y!Quackity is bilingual! He switches between speaking English and Spanish.

Y!Quackity is partially a duck hybrid. His wings much like other bird hybrids are clipped.

Important to keep in mind is the admin of this blog does not speak fluent Spanish and only knows small conversation and will be relying on translators. Please feel free to correct any post that has incorrect spelling. Thank you. :]

¡Hola, amigos! Este es un blog de roleplay QSMP divergente canon. Este blog es un miembro del juego de rol Yaoiverse.

Esta cuenta es gestionada por @howdytheresam.

Información sobre Y!Quackity:

Ex miembro de la Federación.

Y!ElQuackity tiene un blog separado de Y!Quackity. Aún no está activo.

¡Y!Quackity es bilingüe! Alterna el inglés y el español.

Y!Quackity es en parte un híbrido de pato. Sus alas, como las de otros híbridos de aves, están recortadas.

Es importante señalar que el administrador de este blog no domina el español y s��lo sabe un poco de conversación, por lo que recurrirá a traductores. Por favor, siéntase libre de corregir cualquier mensaje que tenga errores ortográficos. Gracias :]

Tags:

#incoherent yelling - in character posts and comments.

#suspicious photograph - In character reblogs.

#partner applications - asks.

#who the duck is this?! - out of character.

#yaoiverse - general tag for the rpverse.

#straightverse - angsty and heavy lore tag.

#That’s all folks! :] - Thread tag end.

#you copied me! 🇺🇸 - Primarily english.

#¡me copiaste! 🇲🇽 - Principalmente español.

The other Yaoiverse members:

Mis Amigos:

@daddestboyhalo (Bad)- #'mingling'

@cringefailskeledad (Missa) - #mi artístico amigo

@crows-father (Philza) - #child thief

@elwifeguy (Mariana) - #misclicker #1

@the-bird-behind-the-slaughter (Jaiden) #kid caretaker and taker

@builderfreak (Foolish) - #way too expensive

@constructor777 (Vegetta) - #TRICKED ME!!!

@catboyarg (Cellbit) - #LITERALLY BRAINWASHED

@maximum-father (Maximus) - #Mr. Catalina

@packedtazer (Pac) - #pac-my-man

@tazeredmike (Mike) - #pacs side piece

@theducklady (Baghera) - #what the duck

@chirpingfangz (Wren) - #🔥 WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE 🔥

@spawnradio (Fit) - #bald and wise

@psicologoier (Roier) - #the therapist

@felpsederation (Felps) - #the first of us

MI ESPOSO:

@tilinsfather (Luzu) - #Adoro estar junto a ti pero a veces me cansás

Los Niños:

@witheredlilacs (Tilin) - #misclicked #2 :[

@bulletflips (Juanaflippa) - #misclicked #1

@goo-amalgamation amalgamation (Gegg) - #mi estrellita #WHAT IS THIS?!

@explorar-curiosity-e-opportunity (Richarlyson) - #my kid too no take backs

@music-among-the-amapolas -among-the-amapolas (Tallulah) - #ur named hot sauce #number one author

@cha-cha-cha-chayanne (Chayanne) - #murderous child

@autismbeamsyou (Dapper) - #spoiled niece/nephew #SPOILED CHILD

@bobby-el-mas-chingon (Bobby) - #MEAN KID

@minibuilder777 (Leonarda) - #child labor kid

@inventorswag (Ramón) - #future mafia leader

@carmalized-apples (Pomme) - #manzana francesa

@yaaay-propellerhat (Trump) - #explode-y kid

Lo inexplicable:

@blackbearbureau (Baribal) - #The thing that hunts me: The thing that haunts me

La Federación:

@thecensusbureau (Cucurucho) - #stupid bear

@quesadillaislandofficial (Pato) - #this island is okay #I hate this island

¿Religión?

@theyaoidevil (Devil Rubius) - #the fucking devil

@jesusyaoi (Lil J) - #jesus fucking christ???

[sparrowandbee]

The Sparrow, Chapter 17

Synopsis: Despite all odds, Haymitch and Marian return to District 12 and try to make a home from the pieces they are left with.

797 Words

Content Warning for sexual exploitation and allusion to SA.

Masterlist

-

It was late when we got off the train in District 12. There were no crowds, no yelling, no photographers. Just Haymitch and I. It was a sight I never thought I’d see again- the dull and dusty landscape of home. 

We stopped by my room in the Seam, having to wake up the landlady because I didn’t have my keys. She barely bat an eye. I took a box with everything I cared to keep: 3 trousers, 2 blouses, 2 shirts, the purple butterfly dress that was mysteriously folded and returned, my sewing tin, and a book I bought from a smuggler at the Hobb- an old poetry book with a beautiful floral blue cover.

I carried the book and Haymitch took the box. With my arm around his and a new shiny silver key in my pocket we walked the few miles towards Victor’s Village.

Being back was so bizarre. I had never really noticed the smell: ash and garbage. It never bothered me. Or the lack of color, only browns and greys against the burgeoning sunlight. I never thought of it as ugly, either. In my eyes, beauty didn’t exist outside of the flowers and the birds and the running creek. I wasn’t aware that man could create beauty. But now I knew it was possible, it had all just been kept from us.

We picked up the pace, just as the District had began waking up. I didn’t want to see anyone, not because I would recognize them but because they would recognize me. The invisible girl no longer.

I held on to Haymitch and we crossed the gate past the imposing brick wall and into Victor’s Village, our faces scanned by the system.

The cul-de-sac boasted 8 huge two-story houses, each yard perfectly kept, despite the desolation. They were pretty, with while shingles and blue shutters and front porches. A complete opposite to the world outside.

The house looked so empty, despite the furnishings and Capitol decorations. It was just so big and daunting that I couldn’t even begin to imagine filling it all by myself, but in that moment, I really just wanted to rest. My body relaxed at being in a semi-familiar space, and all the exhaustion caught up to me, I needed to sleep away from the eyes of the Capitol. Haymitch led me upstairs and into the main bedroom, one of three. 

The room, as the rest of the house, was spacious and luxurious. The bed was already made, with a tempting fluffy white duvet piled atop it. He dropped the box off in the adjacent sitting area, while I investigated the walk-in closet. In it, I found some cotton, wool, and silk pieces. Fine stuff straight from the Capitol, but more paired down. Along with the shoes was a large red velvet box, with a note. 

Thank you for the evening. I hope to be seeing more of you soon. - Ave Philleus

I hesitated retreating away from the closet space. Haymitch nearly sprinted into the closet, looking back at me once he had seen the trigger.

“Take it away,” I told him, unable to stop the shakiness which slowly overtook my body again. “Please take it away.”

I was terrified. Wasn’t this supposed to be safety?

“I will, Marian. I will,” He ripped up the note and carried the box haphazardly under his arm. “Don’t worry, okay? He’s not here. Never was. This box probably travelled back on the train with us.”

He’s right. Of course. It eased me.

“Are you sure you want to be alone?”

I nodded. For some reason, as much as I loved and needed his presence, I also craved solitude. I had seen and spoken to more people in those few days than I had in my whole life and in a strange way, I missed my own company. I needed to enjoy myself again- my thoughts, by myself.

“Yes, don’t worry. You go home, get some rest.”

He nodded a few times, looking around the room, making sure everything was as it should be. “Um, should I get you some water? Or food? There should be some stuff in the pantry downstairs and they’ll probably arrange some sort of event later today or tomorrow so you should be aware-”

There was one other thing I craved. Looking at him, a little frantic with care, his hair tousled and eyes rimmed with bags from tireless days- he was beautiful. I took my hand to his face and leaned my lips against his, a tiny tender peck which he hesitantly returned.

I stepped back just as a yawn escaped me.

“Thank you, for everything, H. I’ll see you soon.”

“Thank you, M. Thank you.”

He turned around and left. I soon fell asleep.

-

Next Chapter

[cybermoonmoon]

I didn't expect so many to respond to my trip...accidental to the Loonie-Bin.

Thank you all I loves ya even more now. My sister and I had a conversation in that thread.

Thought it would be interesting to put it in a post.

Sylvia: I had a similar experience with meds, and I felt like I was going crazy! But then I started doing some research and found some natural alternatives that really helped. Have you considered trying anything like that?

Uncle: I have...mixed results. Depression meds work and don't. I tried changing my habits of isolation and grey thinking. Life is but a dream.

Sylvia: Get off those meds. You never needed them. Keep walking around our great Emerald City and photographing sights of interest. (...see above Atlantic Ave. Brooklyn.)

Walking among NYC people, plants, & animals is your best therapy. I sat with you in a group therapy session after the looney bin. Do you recall the shrink asked you to do a lecture!

Uncle: Yes, he did. He and his students told me it was rare for a patient to be articulate and humorous. Really? This surprised me given the thoughtful creativity of different thinking folks. They'd have to be to survive there.

As for my reactions to this mental health theater. Partly it was I didn't realize what could be done to me. Partly it was the experience of just being there...I was fascinated and curious. They told me many were "hostile and evasive". I certainly understand why in hindsight.

In my "Lecture" I said the problem with mental patients and healers was bandwidth. The patients were speaking in 'shortwave' the doctors' interns used 'digital bursts'. Both have stories but the data passes each other in the either.

(Re-post from my FB page.)

[doerot]

[ID: Slightly grainy photographs of text that read:

"Dear Mr. Grell,

Thank you.

I'm gay. I've been reading comics for

nearly 25 years and have watched "The Big Two" (meaning DC and those Other," less-Marvelous folk)pussyfoot and side-step the issue of gay people and the fact that they exist.

Then came 1988. The head of Special Weapons and Tactics in Metropolis is a lesbian, and Green Arrow goes after a herd (gaggle?) of gay-bashers ... wow. I'm openly gay and have been involved in the gay rights movement for a few years. I hear so much pure, unadulterated bullcrap about gay people day after day, month after month, that the words of acceptance have become food of the gods where I am concerned. I read those words in GREEN ARROW 5. I wept.

Thank you for addressing the growing problem of gay-bashing. Thank you for writing a wonderfully intelligent and riveting comic (with a little help from your friends, Messrs. Hannigan and Giordano). But most of all, thank you for helping to brush away some of the ignorance that clouds people's minds when they see anything that is "different'' or "abnormal." I only wish you were writing GREEN ARROW when I was 14. This issue would have prevented a lot of mind- games for me.l hope it does just that for the young gay people who read GREEN ARROW now. They have so little positive reinforcement ... hey ... maybe ... why couldn't the survivor of the attack decide to devote his life to fighting injustice? The first openly gay super hero?!

Just a thought.

Do your bosses know how many gay comics readers there are? A lot. Trust me.

... And again, my heartfelt thanks.

Grant Thornley

5520 W. Montrose Ave

Chicago, IL,"

End ID.]

I think everyone who complains about the existence of queer people in comics should read this letter to the editor in a Green Arrow 1988 comic and shut the fuck up

[puremagicevent]

HOW TO ORGANIZE THE BEST AWARD CEREMONY OF DUBAI?

Dubai, the City of Gold, is synonymous with luxury, innovation, and a flair for the extraordinary. It's the perfect setting to host an award ceremony that transcends the ordinary and becomes a truly unforgettable experience. Whether you're recognizing industry titans, celebrating local heroes, or marking a milestone within your organization, a well-orchestrated ceremony reflects your prestige and leaves a lasting impression.

This blog post unveils the secrets to organizing the best award ceremony in Dubai, from crafting a compelling vision to executing a flawless event.

Why Host an Award Ceremony in Dubai?

Dubai offers a unique blend of factors that elevate your award ceremony:

Global Appeal: Dubai's position as a global hub attracts attendees from around the world, adding prestige and international recognition to your event.

Unmatched Venues: From opulent ballrooms and iconic landmarks to stunning desert locations, Dubai boasts a diverse selection of venues that cater to any theme or vision.

Luxury Hospitality: Renowned for its impeccable service and world-class hotels, Dubai ensures a seamless and luxurious experience for your guests.

Award-Winning Event Management: Dubai is home to a flourishing event management industry with seasoned professionals who excel in crafting unforgettable experiences like Pure Magic Events.

Planning Your Dubai Award Ceremony: 10 Golden Steps

Now, let's delve into the steps involved in planning a showstopping award ceremony in Dubai:

1. Define Your Goals & Objectives:

What are you celebrating? Business excellence, community achievements, or a specific industry milestone?

What do you hope to achieve with the ceremony? Amplify industry recognition, boost employee morale, or generate media buzz?

2. Craft a Captivating Theme:

A theme can set the tone for the entire event, reflecting your organization's values or the purpose of the awards. Consider Dubai's unique cultural heritage, cutting-edge technology, or its role as a global hub for inspiration.

3. Set a Realistic Budget:

Determine the total amount you're willing to allocate for the ceremony. Factor in venue rental, catering, entertainment, awards themselves, marketing, and technology.

4. Secure the Perfect Venue:

Dubai offers a plethora of options. Consider opulent ballrooms in luxury hotels, iconic landmarks like Burj Khalifa, or unique settings like desert camps. The venue should reflect your theme, budget, and guest list size.

5. Assemble Your Dream Team:

Partner with a reputable Dubai-based event management company specializing in award ceremonies. They'll navigate logistics, secure vendors, and ensure a flawless execution.

Consider hiring a professional caterer, audio-visual (AV) specialist, stage manager, and photographer/videographer to capture the event's essence.

6. Design a Memorable Award Ceremony Program:

Develop a program that clearly outlines the order of events, including introductions, award presentations, entertainment segments, and guest speaker addresses. Maintain a healthy balance between recognition and entertainment to keep your audience engaged.

7. Create Enthralling Entertainment:

Live music performances by renowned artists, captivating dancers, or awe-inspiring visual effects can elevate the ceremony's atmosphere and keep guests entertained.

8. Craft Breathtaking Awards & Presentation:

Invest in custom-designed awards that reflect your theme and brand identity. Practice impactful award descriptions and presentations that celebrate each recipient's achievements.

9. Promote Your Event:

Utilize social media platforms, press releases, and industry publications to generate buzz and amplify the reach of your event.

10. Post-Event Follow-Up:

Send thank-you notes to attendees, award recipients, sponsors, and speakers.

Share event highlights on social media and your website, creating lasting memories and extending the event's impact.

Beyond the Basics: Award Ceremony Enhancements for Dubai

Embrace Dubai's Technological Prowess:

Integrate cutting-edge technology to elevate the event experience. Interactive elements like live audience polling via mobile apps, immersive 3D projections, or holographic presenters.

Consider live streaming the ceremony to expand your audience reach and allow remote participation.

Incorporate Local Flair:

Infuse your ceremony with a touch of Emirati culture to showcase Dubai's unique heritage. This could involve incorporating traditional music into the entertainment, offering Arabic calligraphy workshops for guests, or featuring regional delicacies in the catering menu.

Partner with local artists or performers to add an authentic touch to the event.

Sustainability Considerations:

Dubai is a leader in sustainable practices. Explore eco-friendly options like using recycled materials for décor, opting for locally sourced catering ingredients, and minimizing paper waste by utilizing digital invitations and programs.

Embrace the Unexpected:

Dubai thrives on innovation and pushing boundaries. Consider incorporating a unique element to surprise and delight your guests. This could be a hot air balloon arrival for award recipients, private fireworks display over the city skyline, or an interactive photo booth with augmented reality features.

A Touch of Luxury:

Dubai is synonymous with luxury experiences. Elevate your ceremony by offering VIP experiences, exclusive lounges for sponsors, or personalized welcome gifts for attendees. Consider hiring luxury transportation options like Rolls Royce or chauffeured limousines to enhance the overall experience.

Ready to Host Your Dazzling Dubai Award Ceremony?

We hope this blog post has equipped you with the knowledge and inspiration to plan a truly unforgettable award ceremony in Dubai. Remember, the key is to celebrate achievements with style, showcase Dubai's vibrancy, and create a lasting memory for everyone involved.

[edmturnmeon]

Samyang 12mm f2 X-Mount AF Lens Review

IvanYolo Having had the privilege to loan the Samyang 12mm lens for Fuji X-mount, thanks to Dominic from Futuromic Photo AV. I embarked on a photographic exploration through the vibrant urban landscapes of Kuala Lumpur and the scenic elevations of Genting Highlands. This lens proved to be a versatile companion, effortlessly capturing the essence of various photography genres, including street photography, landscape shots, architectural geometry, and compositions with compelling leading lines.The 12mm f2 Samyang fuji lens, with its focal length and wide aperture, showcased its capabilities across diverse scenarios. From the bustling streets of Kuala Lumpur, where it adeptly framed candid moments in street photography, to the sweeping vistas of Genting Highlands, where its wide-angle perspective brought out the grandeur of the mountainous terrain, the lens excelled in delivering impressive results.Whether I aimed to encapsulate the intricate details of urban architecture, and the sprawling landscapes of Genting Highlands or sought to emphasize the visual impact of geometric patterns, the Samyang 12mm lens matched with the Fujifilm X-T4 consistently demonstrated its ability to meet the demands of different photographic styles. Its performance in capturing leading lines, an essential element in composition, further solidified its reputation as a reliable and effective tool for creative expression.In this journey through two distinctive locations, the Samyang 12mm lens emerged as more than just a piece of gear; it became a conduit for visual storytelling, offering a seamless blend of optical excellence and creative flexibility. The following exploration delves deeper into the lens's specific attributes, its application in astrophotography, the art of mastering manual focus, and a comparative analysis with other wide-angle lenses for Fuji X-mount—a comprehensive guide for those seeking to harness the full potential of the Samyang 12mm lens.

The Wide-Angle Samyang 12mm f2 Lens

The Samyang 12mm f/2 lens for Fuji X-mount cameras is popular among photographers seeking a wide-angle perspective and a large aperture. With a focal length of 12mm and a maximum aperture of f/2, this lens is well-suited for various photographic applications.One notable characteristic of Samyang lenses, including the 12mm f/2, is their manual focus design. Users need to adjust the focus manually, which can benefit those who prefer precise control over their focus settings. The lens typically incorporates multiple elements arranged in various groups, contributing to its ability to deliver sharp and distortion-free images.In terms of build quality, Samyang lenses are known for their robust construction, often featuring a durable metal build. This sturdiness contributes to the overall reliability of the lens, making it suitable for outdoor and challenging shooting conditions. The Samyang 12mm lens has a 62mm filter thread size. If you want to use filters, make sure to get ones of this size, or use a special size adapter called a step-up ring.The Samyang 12mm f/2 is designed for Fuji X-mount cameras, ensuring compatibility with Fuji's X-series mirrorless cameras. This lens is particularly favored by photographers engaged in landscape photography, architectural photography, and astrophotography due to its wide-angle perspective and the f/2 aperture, which excels in capturing low-light scenes. Pros Compact & Lightweight: The Samyang 12mm for X-Mount is a fantastic lens that boasts a wide range of features which make it a top choice for photographers. One of the key advantages of the lens is its excellent autofocus, which ensures that shots are always in focus. Additionally, the lens is lightweight and compact, making it easy to carry around and use for extended periods of time.Sharp Images: Whether you're hiking to get the perfect shot, or just out for a casual day of photography, this lens won't weigh you down. Finally, the resulting images are incredibly sharp, with stunning detail that will impress even the pickiest of viewers.Weather-sealed: This outstanding lens has been crafted to withstand tough weather conditions, ensuring you can capture remarkable photographs in even the most challenging environments. The 12mm F2 lens boasts a remarkable angle-of-view range that is on par with the capabilities of an 18mm optic in a 35mm full-frame system, providing you with unmatched flexibility in your photography endeavors.You can now effortlessly explore the most beautiful sceneries, even in the most cramped spaces, thanks to this lens's unique constructions.

Embracing the Grandeur of Landscapes at Chin Swee Temple

Fujifilm X-T4 // Samyang 12mm f2 I was back in Chin Swee Temple to test out this wide-angle Samyang lens with the upcoming 4-in-1 YOLO film recipe. Nestled amidst the hills of Genting Highlands, Chin Swee Temple emerges as a serene architectural marvel. The Samyang 12mm lens allows me to capture the temple's intricate details while embracing the surrounding landscape. By framing the temple against the vastness of the hills, photographers can emphasize the harmonious coexistence of spiritual and natural elements. The wide-angle perspective ensures that every architectural nuance, from the ornate decorations to the temple's silhouette against the sky, is impeccably captured.The scenic expanse of Genting Highlands, with its lush greenery and rolling hills, presents an idyllic canvas for landscape photographers wielding the Samyang 12mm lens. As the lens captures the essence of this high-altitude retreat, photographers can stand amidst the serenity of the elevated terrain, using the 12mm focal length to unfold panoramic vistas with unparalleled clarity and detail. This lens becomes an extension of the photographer's vision, translating the tranquility of the Genting Highlands into images that evoke a sense of peaceful escape.

Unveiling Urban Symmetry in the Pudu Area

Fujifilm X-T4 // Samyang 12mm f2 In the realm of architectural photography, where a keen eye for composition is paramount, the Samyang 12mm lens emerges as an indispensable ally for photographers seeking to reveal the captivating intricacies of urban landscapes. This lens excels in accentuating the bold lines, patterns, and symmetries inherent in modern structures, historical landmarks, and bustling cityscapes, providing a canvas for photographers to craft visually compelling and harmonious images.Pudu, an area brimming with urban vibrancy in Kuala Lumpur, becomes an intriguing canvas for architectural exploration with the Samyang 12mm lens, using Teal Obscure recipe for indoor shots. From the bustling streets to the towering structures, this lens captures the essence of urban symmetry with unparalleled precision. I can utilize the lens to frame the converging lines of bustling streets, creating dynamic compositions that showcase the rhythm and flow of city life.Pudu Plaza, a prominent landmark in Kuala Lumpur, stands as an ideal backdrop for experimenting with leading lines using the Samyang 12mm lens. This lens allows me to skillfully capture the linear elements of the plaza's architecture, such as the clean lines of its facade, staircases, or walkways. By strategically composing shots to emphasize these leading lines, I can infuse a sense of depth and perspective into the images, creating a visually engaging narrative.

Sample Photos

Fujifilm X-T4 // Samyang 12mm f2

Fujifilm X-T4 // Samyang 12mm f2

Fujifilm X-T4 // Samyang 12mm f2

Fujifilm X-T4 // Samyang 12mm f2

Fujifilm X-T4 // Samyang 12mm f2

Fujifilm X-T4 // Samyang 12mm f2

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Styling and Consulting @nicola.neri

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