#and then the other base has no chance at catching the flyers other foot

[seawitchkaraoke]

Loving going to the gym, it's a great supplement for the other sport I do, both to further train the muscles I need to yeet ppl higher for cheerleading and to train the muscles that don't get trained enough from the other stuff I do but.

The gym alone could never be enough for me bc I am fundamentally a lazy person. I'm not gonna really ever push myself as far on my own as I will when we're soo close to hitting this stunt, let's do it one more time, come on

Anyway we did double base for almost the full 90 minutes yesterday (one flyer on just two bases), most of the speed upwards has to come from me, I am so sore but yes we did hit it

[mailboxesetcuk]

How to make the most of Black Friday

How can retailers make the most of the opportunities that Black Friday brings?

Black Friday is one of the most highly anticipated shopping events of the year, when consumers can enjoy discounts on a huge array of products. But how can retailers make the most of this opportunity to boost sales, raise brand awareness and move stock to make way for new items?

Whatever the size of your business or customer base, you can still use Black Friday as a springboard to greater brand awareness, increased loyalty and sales growth. At this time of year, consumers are expecting brands to promote their offers and are much better disposed to receiving – and acting upon – sales messages. That’s why it’s worth applying discounts and making a big splash across all your channels, from social media to e-shots and physical collateral like flyers and posters. With consumers more likely to be ‘warm’ to your sales messages, it would be a shame to miss out.

Black Friday deals are often applied to the key consumer goods categories: electronics and IT, fashion, cosmetics, household appliances, sports equipment, toys and games. But whatever you’re selling, you can still catch the consumer’s eye with the right messaging.

If yours is a start-up or you’re still building your audience, think of Black Friday as a boost to your marketing efforts, a foot in the door. Even long-established brands that pride themselves on customer loyalty can still leverage consumers’ curiosity and perhaps gain themselves some new fans.

It’s not all about discounts

Black Friday is also a chance to look at your product range and move inventory to make way for new stock. If your summer sale has resulted in leftover stock that you need to shift, consider a ‘30% off all sale items’ promotion for Black Friday or even throughout November.

On the other hand, if you want to grow your reputation as the go-to retailer for the best deals on cutting-edge tech, make sure you’ve got your offers lined up (and your warehouse well stocked) before October’s out. Once consumers decide they want to buy, if you’ve run out of what they want they will go elsewhere – even if it means paying a bit more. You don’t want to miss out on their custom.

It's not necessary to discount your products to tap into Black Friday energy, either. Consider instead giving away samples with every item purchased, or starting a loyalty club and offering every new customer a certain number of free points with every purchase during November. This is a great strategy for smaller or new businesses who want to reach a wider audience without direct impact on their profits.

Say it loud

The benefits your brand gains from its Black Friday promotions go beyond additional sales. This is an opportunity to enhance your reputation and promote your values. With the potential for greater audience reach, your marketing activity should amplify your brand, both visually and in terms of key messages.

This is also a chance to showcase your customer service, as well as the quality of your products. In short, think of Black Friday as a platform for broadcasting your brand’s personality. Ensuring a smooth online purchasing journey for your customer is also essential at this busy time, as well as a seamless returns process.

There’s a quid pro quo element to this, too. Because you can ask your customers to do something for you in return for your generosity in discounting your products or offering added value at this time of year. There’s no denying power of positive reviews on Google, Feefo, Trustpilot and similar sites: recent research shows that more people are likely to trust product reviews from other customers than from industry experts, professional reviewers and companies or brands. And if up to 95% of consumers read online reviews before buying, your brand should be looking to gain as many positive recommendations as possible. That’s why offering an incentive for customers to leave a review is a good idea, particularly during Black Friday.

We can help

If your business needs help with order and inventory management, packing, shipping and automating the management of orders and returns, talk to the experts at MBE. We’re also here for your design and print, specialising in digital and physical marketing materials that boost your brand and ensure your messaging is received loud and clear.

Find out more here.

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Mythology AU post no one asked for!

In this AU, all of the animatronics are creatures based on folklore and mythology and are a mix of things that are obvious choices and not so obvious. The characters all live in a forested mountain that humans have yet to learn how to scale and any attempts to do so are typically thwarted by those that live there if not by their inability to climb it in the first place.

So what is everybody?

Freddy is an escaped circus bear. I couldn’t find any interesting mythological bears so he gets more of a backstory to him than the others do. He’s a regular bear that escaped from the Fazbear Circus that was held at the foot of the mountain, possibly unintentionally freed by a certain pair of reckless flyers we’ll get to in a minute. He saw his chance and ran for the hills, still wearing his circus neck ruffles and what not. He just happened to scale a bit of the mountain and make some magic friends that just kinda picked him up and decided he’s their friend now. He is very happy about this arrangement because honestly fuck the Fazbear Circus.

Bonnie is a Wolpertinger (or a Jackalope. I’ve been alternating on this lately) and that means he is a rabbit/hare, with antlers and wings. He was born and raised on these mountains or the mountain adjacent maybe and lives in a really big warren. Also possibly has fangs? I will leave that to interpretation.

Chica is a gryphon, a mix of big cat and big bird. She’s a mix of leopard and kinda chicken I guess and is one of the reckless flyers that may have freed Freddy from the circus. She’s very close with everyone and can make a fun collection of both bird and leopard noises.

Foxy was supposed to not be a kitsune but the best I could find for him was a Chinese Fox Spirit so that is what he is. Got a bunch of tails and does cool paranormal stuff. His tricks only escalate in this AU he can do so much more stuff now. Still has a fun accent though because I said so and its fun

Monty is a Western dragon so not the serpent kind. Can breathe fire and is a very strong flyer. He’s from a different mountain and is a bit of a wanderer in the Gatorbun fic. He’s got horns and his scales aren’t as protective as they probably should be. Also has a big fluffy red mane and deep green and yellow scales with an extra tuft of fluff at the end of his tail.

Roxy is an Aralez, which is an unspecified dog with wings, said to be able to revive people left on the mountains by licking their wounds to heal them. The most obvious option would have been a hellhound but I found this and thought it would be much more interesting and handy in plots. She’s the other reckless flyer that possibly freed Freddy from the circus and like Chica, is always getting caught up in human traps here there and everywhere. She’s either a winged wolf or a winged husky or something it doesn’t particularly matter she’s still Roxy whether she be a domestic dog or a wild one.

Sunny and Moon are both Cat-sìth's. One blesses those that are nice to them and the other causes problems on purpose. Sometimes they switch for fun. They’re basically just extra fun cats that can do cool things like Foxy can.

DJ Music Man is the equivalent of the Loch Ness Monster. He’s this big ass water monster that lives in the lake on this mountain and the minis are his little sea serpent buddies. He made friends with Freddy, Chica or Roxy who fell in the lake maybe and now the group hang out more at the lake and sing together. DJ doesn’t speak so they nickname him Melody because he loves playing melodies on big conch shells and stuff. All the little serpents have similar nicknames too.

Vanessa is a cabbit which is apparently a mix between a rabbit and a cat. I chose this mostly because I didn’t know it was a thing and it sounded fun. I also wanted to include her so here she is! A cabbit!

Humans - particularly the Fazbear Circus - are always trying to catch an actual rare creature and not just a big ol’ bear so they set up a lot of traps to catch them much closer to the foot of the mountain. Which is why the number one rule is not to go down the mountain. This is often ignored by many of the flying creatures.

This is just a fun lil AU I’ll dabble in every so often because its fun so I thought I’d make a little post about it. Enjoy!

[writing-the-end]

Feral Friendship- Part 3

Previous Post

Masterpost

Haha I really love putting these right when the angst is at it’s peak- makes us all have to wait a little longer to see the resolution, and a break from all the sadness. I really do love Feral Friendship, and this is one of my favorite parts. 

Ecto belongs to @cooler-cactus-block

Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland​

The remaining infiltrators scuffle their heels against the jungle wood in Cub’s base. False holds the red banner out, but it feels like a hollow victory. Not even a victory- they just evened out the score. Cub looks at the bruised and rattled hermits before him. They’re covered in sand and leaves, looking like they’ve been camping for weeks. The sun is just starting to set on the first day of the game. “Where’s TFC’s entire team? And Scar?” 

Xisuma shrugs. “We just know they haven’t returned.” 

“Who knows? Maybe they have the second flag and are just being cautious, Sheshwammy.” Keralis offers, but the others seem less optimistic. 

“And Scar?” Cub raises an eyebrow, taking the banner that False holds out. The wool fabric feels so good on his fingers. Such a hard fought item, finally in the hermits’ hands. He hands it off for Cleo to hang for scoring above the base. 

“Unfortunately, reports indicate that he was captured after hiding that flag. Etho saw Avon flying back to their side with him. Though he didn’t seem that concerned.” Doc reports, scratching his chin with his reattached arm. 

“As aggressive as they have been in their tactics, they’re still our friends. I don’t think they’ll harm Scar.” Joe adds. 

“We aren’t going to let Scar’s sacrifice go to waste. We need to strike while the iron’s hot. I want everyone to rush for Ecto’s flag.” Cub clenches his fist as he swipes up the red scrap that symbolized Avon’s flag on the map. “Everyone that isn’t Cleo, Joe, or me should go in and fight through the minefield. If we just throw all we have at them, they can’t stop all of us.” 

“Ah, the good old french revolution tactic.” Cleo hums.

Joe shrugs. “I mean, it worked in that case. At least our bastille doesn’t have muskets. Just cacti.” 

Cub hushes them, and points towards the door. “You guys go, get to the border and storm for the flag. Us three will stay behind and keep watch for Avon.”

Stress flags down the patrols behind the headquarters, waving for the three pairs to follow the remaining infiltration teams. Together, they march to the border between lands. The defense team seems surprised by the new order, though all just as excited about getting to charge into the mysterious land beyond the cactus wall. Night has fallen over the land, and monsters creep and crawl in the desert. They can outrun the husks and spiders, and most are well armored against the creepers and skeletons. It’s the other team that they have to worry about. 

It’s been a long time since Grian has seen a united hermit front, almost everyone here to tackle the wanderers. He admits it feels badass, like some superhero movie to have the crew lined up. Some of them have wings to fly over, others will run through and tackle what is on the ground. “For Scar! For the Dig team!” 

The hermits charge into unknown territory, breaking down more of Ecto’s cactus wall and running across the desert like calvary on horses. In fact, some of them are on horses. Jevin and Beef speed ahead, weapons drawn and cutting a path through the monsters ahead of them. 

But a horse can only take them so far. Jevin’s horse rears as he snaps the reins back, nearly falling into a sandpit that has opened up beneath them. The sand cascades into the cavern, followed by a single arrow shuttling after the blocks it disturbed. Ren spots Ecto, standing upright on a cactus tower about at the height he’s flying. She has a bow and a quiver full of arrows, snickering as the hermits on foot are forced into her minefield. They’re trapped in her land, of shifting sands and sharp spines. 

Ren charges to knock her off, but the air is empty by the time he reaches her. Ecto has jumped, falling to the ground below in an elegant flip. And as her rotation turns her upward, a coy grin appears on her face towards Ren, and she salutes to her hermit friend. Ecto tucks up a moment later, rolling across the sand and taking off after the other hermits.  

Ren’s about to dive after her, but it pulled back into the sky by Grian. He hadn’t seen Grian since they crossed into the desert, and his friend looks like he’s been running a marathon. Or at least flying one. “Avon’s over the border. She’s going after our flag.” 

Ren turns to look back at the jungle, then to his fellow hermits below. “Go after her. You’re the best flyer on this whole server. If anyone has a chance to beat Avon in an air, it’s you my dude.” 

“What about the others?” Grian looks at the desert, watching Mumbo squeeze through the cacti that Ecto has grown everywhere. Only to fall into a pit of sand. Ecto must’ve somehow built all those, but how is completely beyond Grian. 

“I’ll round them up and tell them to get back and try to stop her.” Ren let’s go of his aloft ally, and the two part. While Ren relays the news to the others, Grian returns to chase after Avon. Cub had seen her flying in, and tried to take a few shots to keep her at bay, but none of the strategists are equipped for fighting. They shouldn’t have left their base so defenseless. Lucky for Grian, he can see Avon circling the canopy as he nears. It doesn’t look like she’s found any of the other flags.

Until she does. Like a phantom diving towards it’s weary prey, it’s an elegant dive. At least it is before she hits the tree while landing. A branch smacks her right in the face, knocking the angelic descent into a demonic crash. Even Grian winces at the hit, spiraling down to see the damage. 

Avon’s on her feet before Grian lands, shaking the dizziness from her mind and sprinting towards the blue flag fluttering. It’s tucked in the leaves of an oak tree, where even the wind struggles to find it. By the time Grian has landed, she’s ripped it from it’s stake. “We’re playing this again, huh? Let’s see how good a flyer you really are.” 

Grian sighs as Avon launches back into the air, daring for him to follow her. He’s not going to let her score again. This time, he plans to fight her midair as well. While she’s still rising above the treetops vertically, Grian takes off at an angle into the sky. Trying to intercept her midair, he pulls out his sword and spins it. The sign of a fight catches Avon’s attention. She pauses, wings opening wide to halt her ascent. For just a moment, She’s floating in the air, wings fully extended. She’s shadowed from behind by the full moon in the night, but Grian can clearly see purple irises sparkle with challenge, and a crooked grin like the chesire cat. “You aren’t going anywhere with that flag.” 

Avon watches the moonlight glint off Grian’s diamond enchanted sword. It’s freeing to have her flag already captured, allowing her to focus on nabbing theirs. Toying with them. Ecto and Avon have been having a blast watching the hermits struggle against surviving in the wild. Surviving in their natural habitat. And they still haven’t seen the worst. She ties the banner to her belt and retrieves her trident. 

And she dives. Closing her wings to drop beneath Grian, she opens again when she’s under him. Turning on her back, Avon throws her trident. Grian rockets away before it can hit him, and goes into chase after Avon and the flag. She flies low, weaving through the tallest trees of the jungle. He needs to gain on her, slow her down. She’s faster, more agile. But he’s clever. 

Avon turns sharp around a tree, but Grian stays straight, shooting through a tiny gap between neighboring trees. Catching up with her. He lights off rockets, the wind whipping his blonde hair against his face. Grian gets close enough to strike, and doesn’t waste a moment. 

The trident and the sword clash, a midair dogfight between the two commencing. It’s one thing to have a battle on land, but the sky is a whole different world. Head to head, metal clangs against crystal, sparks flaring in the night sky. Stars in their own right, pinpricks of light alive for an infinitesimal second before fading away.

Avon takes a pass at Grian, getting around him and gunning for the border. He grabs her foot before she can get away. She kicks her feet up, sending Grian flying into the air. He closes his elytra wings, and lets gravity drop him back down. Straight down towards Avon. Towards the flag tied to her waist. On his way down, his fingers wind into the blue banner and tears it free of her belt. Avon’s stunned as he reopens his wings and takes off back to the jungle. He only grins, sticking his tongue out and winking. “Pesky bird.”

Grian straps the flag to the halter of his elytra, freeing his hands for the attack he knows is coming. Avon won’t give up that easy. He’s seen her pass out before giving up. He was right, because when he looks over his shoulder she’s hot on his rockets. He lights off more, but it only takes a couple more strokes of Avon’s wings to catch up to him. Grian turns over, blocking her reach with his sword. 

Avon just pushes the flat of his blade, vaulting herself over him. Suddenly he’s chasing her again, seemingly for no reason. Except that the jungle is this direction. “What are you even doing?” 

“A surprise.” Avon chuckles, before vaulting into the sky. She stalls at the peak of her backflip, beginning to fall as he flies beneath her. Feet to the sky and arms reaching for him. 

And retrieving the flag from his back. She snatches it mid backflip, creasing off and back to her teams side. Grian can’t even turn around fast enough to catch her. She’s beyond his vision before they reach the border. “Oh, Cub is not going to be happy about that.” 

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

Cleo glances over at Joe at her side, then back to Cub. He’s shifting around the iron nuggets at a feverish pace, mumbling to himself. Is this the loss of Scar, his fellow convex, finally taking a toll on him? Or is it because they’re losing again. “Cub, love, are you doing okay?”

“I don’t understand their tactics. It’s almost like they have none. But they’re winning.” Cub grips at what is left of his hair, moving the three golden nuggets around. Avon scored their second flag. He has two patrols watching the last flag. If it so much as moves, he wants to know. Ren and Grian are patrolling the skies, and the defense is back watching for Ecto or Avon. This entire time, it’s just been those two. Red must be their strategist. But that makes no sense. Red is a lot of things, but she definitely isn’t a strategist. She hardly thinks about her next move before doing it.

Cleo is tired of standing here, trapped in this dark room pouring over her maps and listening to mistakes. She needs to take matters into her own hands, and she knows exactly who else is itching to get into the fight again. Cleo grabs her rapier, busting through the door of the headquarters. Joe can at least calm Cub. Maybe a good poem will keep Cub from having a meltdown. 

Meanwhile, Cleo saunters through the forest to find the other girls. Stress and False are patching up their wounds from the rush for the desert flag. Brush burns, bruises, and bandages all over them. “I think we all know what needs to be done.” 

False grins as she sees Cleo rest her sword on her shoulder, green sutured skin chill against the metal blade. “Finally, we’re doing things the right way.” 

“These guys have no clue what they’re messin’ with.” Stress hums, tugging on her bowstring to test it’s load. 

“They see a loss. I see a challenge.” Cleo adds. “We’re going to get that flag, bring it back and even the odds for us. It’ll really raise spirits as well.” 

“We know you’ve got a plan, so what is it?” False stands, stretching her arms with a relaxed smile. A bandage crinkles at her cheek, but she’s hardly bothered. 

“We’re going to take TFC’s tunnel. They got the closest, even though it’s obvious now they’ve been trapped. If we continue to use it we can get right under Ecto’s flag. Us three have faster reflexes than them. We just need to be cautious.” Cleo starts off through the forest, tapping her blade against the trees as the other two girls follow. The moon is beginning to set, but there’s still more night ahead of them. Won’t matter much when they’re underground. 

“If Stress stays back while we continue to dig, she can fish us out of any sand traps.” Stress picks through the potions that she’s been brewing while they waiting for the next attack. This is much more manageable than rushing the other side. She feels she can do so much more with just False and Cleo. Less ducks to keep in a row. 

The three descend down the ladder, deep into the mines that the dig team left behind. False picks a torch off the wall, holding it up to see further. Firelight glistens off her goggles and cascades down her blonde hair. The three follow the straight mine. “This is definitely a lot more fun than I thought it was going to be.” 

“I was sure we were gonna finish before noon, in all honesty. Those wanderers really can hold their own.” Stress chuckles. 

Cleo giggles alongside her friends, before thoughts infiltrate. Back to the battle. “We’ve seen Avon and Ecto...has anyone mentioned Red?” 

The other two both shake their heads. “No one’s seen him since the game started.” 

“Let’s think about this.” Cleo states, continuing to walk through the tunnel. “We found Avon’s flag in the sky, and Ecto’s flag among the desert. So let’s put on our critical thinking caps on and deduce where Red likely is.” 

“The ocean.” Stress whispers. It makes sense now. They were playing to their advantages. Using what they knew best. 

“How will we get to the ocean when we can hardly even get across this desert?” False questions. It’s not even a big desert, more just a glorified beach with cacti. 

“None of us are right fit for the sea either. Not like Red is, that’s for sure.” Stress looks through the potions she has. She may need to go fishing with this new information. 

“It can’t be that bad. Red isn’t a fighter like Avon and Ecto. They probably put her at the back so we’d have to go through them first.” False points out.

“I don’t know...you see the way she got at the meeting? Even I was a little scared.” Doc must really have no fear, or didn’t notice the way Red’s entire body language shifted. If anything, the lack of sightings with Red is more terrifying. Like knowing a phantom is hovering over you, but not being able to see where it’s coming from. 

False holds her arm out, stopping the other two before any can fall into the chasm. It’s not deep, and is mostly filled with sand that fell from above. A pit trap, just like what they saw in their invasion. Ecto’s signature, apart from cacti. “Not even BDubs would be stupid enough to get stuck in this.” 

“But maybe they would get stuck in that.” Stress points over False’s shoulder, across the stone bridge and a bit deeper in the mine. Another hole. The girls creep across, holding their breath at the precarious sand stacked around them. “Iskall?” 

“Stress? Is that you? Oh thank goodness someone finally found us.” Iskall jumps to try and see out of the cactus hole he’s trapped in. Even if he could climb out, there was nowhere for any of them to run, except into more cacti. 

“Is this where you idiots have been?” Cleo snorts. 

“Hey, hey, hey! We were trapped! Duped! Deceived!” BDubs clambers up a cacti, just enough to see the new team before releasing. And back to pulling needles from his arm. 

“Why didn’t you guys dig out?” False tilts her head.

“No can do. It’s empty beneath this layer of sand. If any one of us dug through, we’d all go fallin’ even further.” TFC kicks sand in his little corner, watching it drizzle down the cacti roots like an hourglass. “We’ve been right trapped.” 

“Are you guys here to save us?” BDubs croons. Stress bites her lip, looking at the supplies she brought. Definitely no rescue supplies. 

“After we get the flag, we’ll come back to help. I promise boys. We’re losin’ something fierce, we really need to get this flag.” Stress looks to Cleo, who begins to build a path across the cactus pitfall. 

“We’re actually losing? How?” Iskall questions, but none of the free hermits answer. They build past them, resuming the mining that they left. “You guys should be right under it soon. Be careful of cacti.”

Stress takes a step back, allowing False to dig a narrow staircase up. Cleo’s face lights up as a scrap of red becomes visible over the other hermit’s shoulder. They’ve done it.

[relaxedreptile]

It’s On Me

Pairing: Bang Chan X Reader

A/N: This was loosely based on a request. I’m sorry for the large gaps between posts, I’m trying to get used to my new classes and new schedules. My schedule will semi-permanently clear up after this weekend as an ongoing project will be finished up. Please be patient!

Happy Valentine’s Day.

For the first time in two years, your alarm clock fails to wake you up.

It actually woke your roommate up instead and they, bless their soul, shook your shoulder while you were lost in your imagination, dreaming about passing grades.

You were only five minutes late to start but that screwed up the entire floor’s shower schedule and some asshole from down the hall decided to steal the last stall, leaving you to watch as the mirrors fogged up due to the shower you were not taking yourself.

That knocked you another ten minutes behind schedule.

You threw on the first set of clothes you found on the floor that you deemed clean enough, grabbed your keys and ducked out the door.

You hated yourself for it, but knew you wouldn’t regret it as you walked into the coffee shop on campus.

No matter how late you were going to be (and how embarrassing it would be to stroll into class late, coffee in hand), you knew future-you would appreciate some caffeine.

You tapped your foot in line, trying to decide what to order. You settled on a plain latte, knowing it would take less time to make than the other things on the menu.

You reached for your wallet to pull out the five dollars you would need to pay, your stomach dropping when you realized you had left it back in your dorm. 

Trying to gain the courage to walk out without ordering anything (and after sitting in line probably looking like an impatient bitch), you looked around to see if anyone was watching you.

“Good morning!”

Just your luck! You were next in line.

You stepped in front of the counter, fiddling with your fingers as you tried to make the most apologetic face you could muster. You felt extremely awkward in this situation and knew you had to make this quick to make sure you didn’t hold up the line any further. It didn’t help that the barista taking your order was extremely cute and had the most endearing dimple.

“Uh, good morning. Sorry, I must’ve left my wallet back at my dorm… I’m sorry for holding you up.”

“Don’t worry about it, that happens to everyone at least once. What can I get for you?”

You stared at the boy in front of you. Did he understand what you were saying?

“I don’t-”

“Have any money,” he finished, “I know, but that’s alright! I could never deny anyone their daily dose of caffeine.”

“Are you sure?” Accepting this offer would go against every manner in the book but your eyes were already starting to droop from drowsiness.

The barista named Chris, according to his name tag, flashed you his dimple one more time.

“It’s on me.”

With a little bit of extra leg power, you made it to class on time. Your teacher was five minutes late anyways, but that just gave you a little bit of time to enjoy your latte, your name written in neat, curvy letters on the side of the cup.

You had never really understood the hype around coffee, especially when it just meant waking up even earlier to get it. You still didn’t understand why people went out of their way to get their hands on this stuff, when seeing a barista smile was all you needed to instantly forget about your rough morning.

“You’ve never seen him around?” You asked your roommate.

“The only Chris I know on campus is blond and has no dimples in sight, maybe he uses a nickname?”

“But wouldn’t Chris be a nickname?”

Your roommate shrugged and handed you a couple of your shirts that had gotten mixed up in their clothing.

“No matter what his name is, he has to be a student here if he was working at the shop. Just keep an eye out, you’re always holed up in bed anyways.”

You scoffed but didn’t say anything, knowing they had a point.

“I saw a flyer outside of the bathrooms, some music group is performing at the coffee shop tomorrow night. It’s not a party! So you can’t give me the same excuse as always and who knows, maybe this is your chance to find your mystery boy.”

“What are the chances he’s going to have the same open mindset as you and want to check out this random group?”

“Believe it or not, Y/N, most people like trying new things in college.”

“Are you sure I look alright?”

You stared at yourself in the mirror hanging on the back of the door (technically your roommate’s), scrutinizing your outfit and pulling at the accessories you had added on to the outfit.

“You’re never this insecure about the way you look,” your roommate noticed. “Is it because you’re going to be reunited with your mystery man?” They teased.

You laughed along with them, brushing the statement off. Right now, you were just excited to spend the night with a friend. They were right about you not going out too often but you wanted to make sure you made a good first impression on your campus’ night life, especially if everyone was going to be the kind of person who listened to an amateur music group.

“What did you say the name of the group was?”

“3RACHA, I found some of their music on SoundCloud and they’re not too bad but I’m not a big fan of rap.”

“You’re telling me we’re going out to a cafe to listen to a bunch of college kids rap?”

“Technically the youngest one is still in high school.”

“You’ve really done your research,” you teased.

You dashed out of your dorm room before your roommate could throw anything at you.

The two of you had made it just in time for the lights to be lowered for dramatic effect, grabbing one of the last open tables and settling in quickly so as not to disturb the surrounding silence.

“I didn’t know they had so many fans,” said your roommate, referring to the large number of people who had come to listen.

Before you could agree, the two of you were shushed by a nearby table. 

Two short guys walked onto the makeshift stage in the back corner of the cafe, catching everyone’s attention desire their small statures. 

The shortest one had a cap pulled down so low you couldn’t even see his eyes and instead had to focus on the sharp jawline that was framed by jet black hair and shaved sides. The boy following behind him had a jawline to match, but chubby cheeks to go with it. While his looks may have contradicted it, he had a confident air about him. He shot a smirk into the crowd before he started talking and you swore you could hear someone gasp at the gesture.

“Uh… thank you all for coming out tonight! We’re 3RACHA as you can tell by all the posters,” he scratched the back of his head, “my name’s Ji-J.One and this is-”

“SpearB,” the shortest boy growled, clearly agitated by the fact that he almost didn’t get to introduce himself.

“We’ve got three new songs to show you guys and if you like them enough you can listen to them on Soundcloud! Our first song is called ‘Runner’s High’ and was produced by the one and only-”

“CB97.”

Everyone in the crowd turned their heads to watch the last boy run up onto stage, microphone in hand and dimple in full view.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, trying to get your roommate’s attention before you were shushed yet again and the music started.

The song wasn’t bad at all, kind of impressive actually considering it was made by a couple of college boys with the help of one still in high school. If you weren’t in the back of a dark cafe surrounded by what seemed to be kind of die-hard fans, you’d go on your phone right now and find a way to download it.

You didn’t catch the title of the next song but your friend next to you visibly perked up when mystery-cafe-boy shouted out some of their favorite JYP artists. You knew this detail would win their approval of “CB97”, if you ever got the balls to go up to him after this.

Thank god (and your roommate) for picking today to give you the confidence boost you needed to go out.

“Are you gonna go up and talk to him?” 

The two of you were awkwardly sitting at your table, watching as the cafe started to close up and the trio started putting away their laptop and speakers.

Your friend had to stifle a laugh when you told them how CB97 was oddly familiar and made sure to mention that you should thank them by paying for dinner tomorrow night. 

“It’s not like I know him! What do you expect me to say, ‘hey, I’m the one who you gave a coffee to for free the other day because I was dumb enough to forget my wallet’?”

Your roommate shrugged and looked over to the three boys who were obviously ready the leave. 

One second they were there sitting next to you and the next they were up on their feet heading directly for “J.One”. 

You had no time to react or ask them what the fuck they were doing and they were too far away for you to eavesdrop on as you watched them out of your peripheral vision, looking away slightly to not seem so obvious. 

You watched as the two other rappers walked over to your roommate and joined the conversation and you chose that exact moment to look directly at “SpearB” to try and read his lips, making eye contact with him. 

He smiled at you asked your roommate a question right after, causing the whole group to turn and look at you. 

You were already on your feet before your friend had a chance to wave you over. 

You were extra mindful of anything discarded on the floor that you could potentially trip on and end up making a fool of yourself. 

After introducing yourself (your eyes only flicking to Chris’ for a second) your roommate took over. 

“This one was raving at the table about your guys’ music.” 

Only internally.

“What was your favorite song?” Chris asked you. 

While your heart fluttered, your mind was clear and when you told him it was “Runner’s High” he seemed pleased with himself. 

“This was our first time performing it live, we’ve been working on it for weeks trying to perfect it,” SpearB admitted. 

“I’m glad I came out to hear the finished product.”

“This one here never gets out of the dorm, always studying or doing homework.”

“He’s the same way,” SpearB revealed, gesturing towards Chris. 

The barista-by-day, music producer-by-night looked sheepish, scratching the back of his neck. 

“If he’s not working on his own song, he’s helping us with one of our own. We probably get really annoying, actually.”

“Not at all, I like working! Music is what I love.”

“How long have you guys been doing this?” You asked. 

J.One told you it’s only been a few months since they started posting their music but that they’ve been working on it basically all their lives, even if it wasn’t necessarily together. When SpearB and Chris were placed in a dorm room together randomly and both of them needed help moving in their equipment, it was basically love at first sight. 

“We found Jisung at an open mic event one night or another and invited him into what we were trying to start up.”

“Jisung?” Your roommate was staring holes into the boy in front of them.

“At your service,” Jisung replied with his cheeks flushed pink.

“I’m Changbin and this is-”

“Chan,” he waved to your roommate before turning to you. “But we’ve already met.”

“You actually went out for once?” Jisung teased the boy. 

“Not quite, I made her a latte a few days ago.”

“Not only that, but he refused to let me pay.”

“If I remember correctly, you had forgotten your wallet.”

“This is the one?” Changbin smirked. 

“You told them about the most embarrassing moment of my life?” You played up the dramatics. 

“He practically wouldn’t shut up about how cute you were, I’m surprised he didn’t write a-”

“Jisung! Changbin! How about I help you two bring your stuff back to your dorm?”

“It’s only a couple-”

“Nonsense, see it as payment for your performance. You can tell me all about the next project you’re working on!”

Leaving you and Chris...Chan...CB97 alone in the middle of the cafe save for the lone employee screwing around in the back, your roommate took both of the other boys by the arm and dragged them outside with their things. 

“So,” you broke the silence, “how many fake names do you actually have?”

The boy in front of you laughed, a high-pitched chuckle finding itself out in the air. 

“Chris is like, my English name, it’s on my documents as a first name while Chan is written as like, a middle.”

“An English name?”

“I’m from Australia. Chan is my Korean name but I basically use them interchangeably, hence the name tag.”

You couldn’t think of anything to say after that, not wanting to make a joke about having multiple names and somehow insult him with any possible ignorance. 

“You came out of your dorm for this?”

You smiled, laughing a little to yourself at the fact that a part of you was hoping you might see your mystery boy again if you came. 

“My roommate saw a flyer and looked you guys up,” Chan grimaced. “They only had good things to say, I swear! But I wanted to see what all the fuss was about and came out too.”

Chan’s gaze fell to the floor as he fiddled with his thumbs. 

“Do you plan on going out again any time soon?”

You cocked your head to the side, kind of confused by his question. 

“Maybe, if you are, I could come along?”

You giggled at the implication, nodding and laughing again when Chan looked visibly relieved at your answer. 

“I can give you my number and we’ll find a time where we’re both free and actually willing to leave our work behind.”

“I’ll make sure to take a couple of long breaks.”

Wanna meet me after my shift and we can go out somewhere?

As long as there’s a latte ready when I get there.

Consider it done. Don’t worry about paying for this one, it’s on me.

[vegetacide]

Whump prompt#4 - part III

Veg-notables - I noticed in some of my older stuff that I tend to write a lot of internal dialogue and thoughts so I decided to push myself to write more about the surroundings and such..for this part I actually looked up the picture of an old, wood mill and I attempted to draw a picture of it with words.. Not sure if I was successful but I think it was good practice..  Let me know what you think.

Thank you to @gumnut-logic for hashing out plot points with me.  

Proofed by me..mistakes.. Blah blah blah .. be nice.

Likes, shares and comments are my motivational fuel and all that jazz

Rating:  M for suggestions of torture.

Characters: Kayo, Scott and John is floating about

Prompt snippet -  no title yet ‘cause I am still lazy and haven’t thought of one

Part I can be found HERE and Part II HERE

Enjoy…. 

oOo

Part III

Kayo approached the ramshackled grouping of buildings on silent feet.  The red rust of the corrugated siding staining its rocky footing as if the dilapidated structure had met its end by exsanguination.  Chunks of decaying metal sat like the curled husk of a dreadful creature across the marred vacant yard that was nestled between the forsaken mill and her bricked siblings. The  bracket space between, a parody of some sick graveyard that lay ragged and open to the sky littered with the fossils of rotten wooden pallets and tipped over oil drums.  

Pressing her back to an ash coloured brickwork of the stubbier of the two outbuildings, Kayo held her breath and listened.  Her eyes ever moving over the landscape of disuse before her, scanning the skeletal remains for any sign of life.  The gaping holes in the main structure absorbing the dying light of the summer sun and obscuring her gaze from seeing anything more than pitted cross beams and the ragged teeth the massive head rig.  

Hearing nothing but the sound of wind through the four and a half story mill and the distant sound of the GDF patrol flyers that had been called in,  Kayo allowed her lungs to once again expand. Alighting along the building’s perimeter she kept the scarred brickwork close to her back, her fingers dragging along its craggy surface as she continued her reconnaissance of the abandoned facility. 

Coming to a wide opening,  she halted her forward motion.  Shuffling along to the very edge of it, she carefully peered around the broken framework of what was once a large, framed window. The mullions broken or missing in the absence of what would have been a rather hefty sheet of glass, the remains of which crunched under foot and glinted dully in the tapering light of day.

The dimly lit mottled interior was in utter ruin, particles of dust dancing about in the shafts of sunlight that filtered in from the ceiling, parts of which had caved in decades ago.  Bits of old roofing tiles lay scattered across the moss covered floor along with support beams and metal fittings. 

Across the large space of what she could only perceive was the main room,  hung two heavy insulated doors. The once pristine polish of their surface now scuffed and tarnished. One sat open, its maw revealing nothing by darkness beyond. If she could guess this was a kiln house. A building that housed the large industrial ovens used to dry out and season newly milled wood.

Stepping out from behind the safety of her cover, Kayo gripped the edge of the decaying sill and made quick work hoisting herself in.  The fact that the large machinery that made up the kiln hadn’t yet fallen through the floor, telling her that the structural integrity was most likely sound enough to support her weight.  

Once within the confines of what was surprising a very large space,  she tapped her comms twice, signalling to John that she was on site and triggered her camera.  Recording everything she saw in case reference was needed later to correctly recall a poignant detail. 

Stepping gingerly around the detritus of wood shavings,  mouse escarpment and bird dropping Kayo began her search.  The tracks she found at the further part of the mining camp some five clicks away had pointed her in this direction. They’d been hastily and haphazardly concealed and she’d picked up the trail easily after going another 30 feet or so into the underbrush.  The snapped saplings and disturbed soil standing out is stark contrast to her well practiced eye. 

After a quick call up to 5, John had provided her with an overview scan  of the surrounding area and it hadn’t taken her long to stumble upon the old mill even though the likelihood of this actually leading anywhere was slim but she had to check.  Only an idiot would use something so obvious as a… 

A glint of something out of place brought Kayo up short and she stilled, eyes tracking back and forth along the floor boards. Something had caught the light as she’d been panning her vision around the space in her inspection.Tilting her head, she crouched as the change in angle caused something to catch the light again and her slender browns dipped downwards in concentration. 

Four inches from the floor a fine, silver filament stretched across the expanse of a large archway at the head of a back hallway that appeared to run the length of the building. A tripwire.  It was old tech but given the environment very practical and very skillfully applied.

Stretching her body out carefully alongside it, her eyes traced it length to it terminus, looking for any sort of trigger or devise hidden under the stacks of broken factory paraphernalia pushed off with little care at the base of the archways wooden support pillars.  

Hidden just out of sight and strapped to what appeared to be a heavy old canister of some sort was a small, blinking red light.  Definitely a trigger, though whether it was for a security system or an explosive she couldn’t tell and she couldn’t risk disturbing it to figure it out. Someone was definitely here if the trip was live.. 

Tapping her insignia, Kay opened an audio only channel to 5.  As per protocol for Kayo, John would only be able to communicate with her verbally over the line, no visual holo-cast.  He kept it short and professional, falling back on old CB radio codes on the small chance someone was piggy backing their secure line and eavesdropping. “10-2,”  a short pause followed by “10-18?”  

It was old school but it worked and kept chatter on the line to a minimal. With two short transmissions, John had verified that her channel was securely receiving her communication and had asked if she had anything to report.  That last part she knew John would usually leave out as she wouldn’t have made contact otherwise so that meant that Scott was on the line too and chomping at the bit for anything he could get on his missing brother.

“Possible contact, have the GDF stand by”

“Message received. Alerting GDF to hold at perimeter.”   

“10-4”   Kayo heard a click over the comms as John change over to the GDF frequency but the quiet was short lived as he once again patched back over to her.  Shaking her head as she lightly got back up to her feet and stepped over the tripwire, she should have known with the Defense Force so close they couldn’t sit still.  

She had enough experience with Rigby to know there was good reason for the Colonel to call on her expertise for the more delicate operations. The man was good at his job in the guns blazing, hit them first sort of way that marked his and a lot of the other GDF personnel main character traits. 

“GDF strongly advising use of backup before proceeding.”

“Negative.” Came her blunt, clipped reply.  The GDF were not known for the ability to be stealthy and in this situation that was exactly what was needed.   There was no telling what else she was going to find around here and the last thing she needed was their big boots stomping about the place tripping god knows what.  Virgil’s life could very well be in the balance and that was a risk she just would not take. 

The line went silent again after that and Kayo let out a breath.  John would pass the information on and he wouldn’t bug her about it again.  The GDF would be either mollified by that or not, she didn’t really care at the moment.

Scott on was another matter altogether though, she would prefer to handle this on her own but she knew that despite her hard no on the GDF joining that it wouldn’t forestall the commander of iR from racing over from where he was reconning.  She just hoped she could clear the scene before he got there.

Pausing a moment to mark the hazard on the digital layout her wrist comm was compiling so Scott wouldn’t trip the thing when he inevitable got there, Kayo pulled a small pen light from her pocket and flashed it up the dark hallway.  Light back here was poor with only a small 12 by 8 window every 10 feet or so making the long length a veritable minefield of hazards. A sprained ankle was the last thing she needed or worse if she happened to come across another surprise like the one she’d just found. 

Picking her way cautiously down the hall, eyes alert and ears straining for any sound out of the ordinary she continued on.    

Coming to a blind corner, Kayo glanced back up the hallway and assessed what she’d already seen and heard.  With the skill needed to trick John with a false call,  getting the upper hand on Virgil, left barely a trace and the set up with the trip wire, she knew that whoever was responsible was skilled,  very skilled. She suspicions made her think that whoever it behind it was a pro 

Hearing the tell tale sound of a jet pack, Kayo did her best to keep her internal mental tirade of courses just where they were and double tapped her  comm. 

“Sorry Kayo, Scott is en route.”  

No shit, she thought to herself.  “Be advised,  area is not secure.  Hold position until further notice.” If she could have, she would have added  I will beat Scott’s ass if he doesn’t listen but she left it unvoiced.  She hoped that her tone would be sufficient enough to pass that little ditty along. 

“Understood,  message has been relayed.” Guess it had.

Grumbling at the delay, she carried on until she came to a section of wall that looked like it had been removed with a sledge hammer, the jagged edges of which appeared fairly new and revealed a wooden stairway that descended into the earth.  

Hugging the wall, Kayo took them with care, mindful to place her foot as close to the stringer as possible.  Settling her feet on the first tread she gave a sigh of relief  when the stairs didn’t just outright collapse under her weight. They looked study enough but looks could be deceiving. 

Shifting back and forth she tested the next one down and so on and so forth until she reached the landing and the stairs made a 90 degree turn.  Taking it as a sign when there was no creaking of loose boards or anything else that might result in her broken bones she alighted down the final flight with a bit more haste.  

The tunnel that she found at the bottom was not what she expected.  It was roughly constructed and lined with concrete, the ceiling being held in place by rough cut wood beams intersected by a newer spattering of electrical cords that ran off and disappeared behind a sealed door at the far end Pocked marked between the beams was an errant placement of naked light fixtures, the bulbs of which flickered and swayed.  

It was damp and water had accumulated in several spots along the uneven rocky flooring. The dampness not only felt with a chill up her spine but smelt. It was earthy and metallic and clung to the inside of her sinuses.  

Listening, she could hear the muted pitch of a motor. The faint scent of fuel and exhaust carried along with the wet soil that permeated the air had her picturing a generator, something easy to procure and set up. Her suspicions peaked again that this was anything but a random attack on her family. They were too well prepared for this to have been a spur of the moment, which meant organized and more proof that the perpetrator was not just some run of the mill kidnapper. 

The click of her comm activating, had her cursing under her breath.  Now was not the time.  She quickly shut it off again.  Scott could damn well stay upstairs and wait where she knew he would be safe. She couldn’t worry about him on top of all this.

Ducking into a shadowed alcove, Kayo parked behind a large crate, ears keenly tuned to pick up on any sounds that indicated her infiltration was a bust  Back pressed to the tunnel wall she could just make out the first door.   It was unlatched and moving slightly, caught up in a mild breeze that seemed to originate further down the tunnel.  

The gap was just wide enough that Kayo could catch a glimpse of what lay beyond.  There was a flickering light but by its random movements she guess a gas lamp of some sort was burning.  Crates seemed to line a wall..  They appeared new and from the markings on the side possibly army surplus supplies. So who ever this one, they had been here a while. 

Holding her breath as she waited a beat for some sort of reaction from the other side. A voice, a shifting of shoes, anything to forewarn her that she had been discovered. The small hairs on the back of her neck prickling with sensation as her adrenaline spiked a notch.    

When nothing changed or came charging out, she plucked a small device from her the pouch at her waist and dropped it. Automatically a duel set of miniature rotors unfolded from it and it began to hover in the air. A little something that Brains had supplied her for just this situation.  

The small device carried a micro camera and was easily controlled from her wrist comm.  The magnetic rotors were virtually silent and their independent movement allowed the tiny bot the agility to move about basically anywhere that Kayo required.  

There were some downsides to the tech, like heat sensitive and its range capabilities  and battery life were limited due to its size but overall it was perfect for Kayo’s uses. It had a few other handy add-ons though that more than made of its for what it was lacking. 

With a flick of her daft fingers, her wrist unit sparked to life and an image of herself from the little flyer sprang up on the screen.  With easy, she maneuvered the craft out and around her hiding place. It hugged the ceiling, its onboard sensory preventing it from crashing into any obstructions and zipped easily over to the open door way.   With a quick title on its axis, it breached the gap and entered the room beyond.

Automatically,  data and floor blueprints popped up on Kayo’s display. Geological information followed,  GPS locations and the general makeup of the room, ambient temperature.  Everything that one could possibly need to know about a 10 x 12 space. It was as she had guessed,  a storage room of some sort and from the tiny screen, she could make out an empty rustic seating area, remnants of food containers and even a small cooker.  No bio reading or heat signatures indicative of a person though and a quick glance at the composition of the wall told her she would have to go room by room.

The little flyer made quick work of the tunnel and in a matter of minutes Kay had a good read of the layout of the place.   Four rooms total,  and no trace of any occupants.  The place had been deserted and deserted in a rush by the looks of things. 

Leaving the alcove, Kay stepped out into the middle of the tunnel and hit her comms.  “Scott,  you can stop your pacing. John,  let the GDF know the place is a ghost town and that they can send in their team now.. Give em a heads up about the trip on the first floor and they should watch out for more.”  

“Roger that”

Within seconds, the tall brunette leader of iR was striding down the stairs towards her. The scowl in place not impressed at being caged upstairs while she did her initial scans. 

“Report?”  His voice was blunt with barely contained anger. 

“Nothing so far,  but the place has been cleared out.  No trace of any electronic signatures that could signal additional defenses but watch your step and stay behind me. If I had a choice you would be back at the island..”

“Tough shit.” 

The made their way through each room.  The storage room was first and proved Kayo’s theory that the facility had been set up for the long run.  The next room was a bunkie with a couple of pallets for sleeping and little else.  There was a generator room, that had makeshift ventilation system that vented exhausted into the mill above, it was heavily padded to reduce noise and the door was actually steel reinforced.

That left door number four.   Pausing outside it,  Kayo looked to Scott and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.  The little flyer hadn’t picked up on anything living down here but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t find something else.  

When his blue gaze met hers,  he gave a single nod and Kayo put her shoulder into the door.  

The room was dark and barren.   The only light source the signal bar bulb at her back which swayed lightly, illuminating briefly first one side of the room and then the other as its light cast about in the breeze.   

Like the rest of the tunnel system the flooring was dirt covered but the walls appeared damp with water run off from some unknown source.  It was colder in this room compared to the others as well and the creepy feeling she’d experienced out in the alcove returned, sending shuddered up Kayo’s spine.  

Pulling her penlight out once more she flashed it around the room.   There was a metal chair to one side of the room and discarded lashings strewn about the floor at its base.   Walking over to it,  Kayo did a cursory scan of the floor and didn't like what she found.  

“The chair is fastened to the ground.”  She pointed out, crouching to examine the bolts holding it down.  Picking up one of the lengths of rope she tried her best to push down the fear at the sight of blood that darkened the strong twine, her light once more sweeping over the room.

She could trust Scott to stay out of the way, he knew how she worked and he kept himself over by the door so she could do her job.  “What’s that over there?”  He nodded, squinting his eyes as he tried to make out what it was from across the room. 

Glancing back over her shoulder, she pushed up to her feet aiming her light at what Scott had indicated.  “Not sure..”  Walking over to it, she bent down to take a look and stilled. 

“Kayo?” 

Proof. “They had him here.”  Turning back to Scott as he finally stepped further into the room she held the torn remains of a soft, grey shirt, one she knew that Virgil had put on some sixteen hours earlier. 

In the early hours of the morning she’d been lazing in a tangled mess of bed sheets, languid and completely sated. Happy for the first time in ...she had no idea how long and oh so relaxed. She’d raked her gaze over his fine physique and with a smile watched him pull the soft cotton down over his finger tousled hair before he’d turned and cupped her cheek for a good morning kiss that had once again led to other things..

Clenching her eyes shut she pushed the image from her mind. The shirt in her hand that smelt of his aftershave (the one she’d bought him last Christmas), the irony tang of blood and fear sweat, held tight as she tried to make sense of all of this and couldn’t.  

Drawing in her breath, she gathered her bearing and returned to the task at hand.   Peridot eyes swept around the earthen room that for  lack of a better word it was what amounted to a cell.  Archaic as it was, the place looked like something out of one of the many old war movies she had seen and it was hard to believe that in this day in age people still resorted to them. 

 Eyes narrowing as something caught her attention across the room behind Scott,  she canted her head slightly trying to make out what it was. “Scott,  behind you on the table.” She directed with a head nod towards the far corner. 

Sitting on a small utility table amidst various discoloured rags and  a roll of duct tape rested a folded note address to Scott and a holo-recorder.   “What is it?”

“I’m not sure.” Picking up the note, Scott examined both sides of it. His name graced one side of it with thick block letters but other than that it was blank.  Furrowing his brows he turned his attention to the recorder and powered it up, the small piece of tech casting odd shadows about the cell walls as it started to play some pre-recorded video. 

Within seconds Scott’s face went from confusion to a look of abject terror that found Kayo instantly at his side having no idea she’d even made a conscious decision to move.  The look in his eyes had her heart stuttering and relocating somewhere North of her chest.

“Scott…?”

Instantly everything else in the room suddenly dissolved, like someone had hit the dimmer switch on the rest of the world.  Sound took on a tinny quality and faded into nothingness.  Her panic breath and what she was looking at now the only things that seemed to registered in the vacuum. 

There on the screen was an image of Virgil,  bound to a chair and bereft of his uniform.  He was blindfolded, the dark material obscuring part of his face but she knew it was him. She knew intimately that slumped form and the filthy cloth did little to mask the angry bruises and sluggishly oozing blood. 

Off screen a modulated voice spoke and Kayo heard it as if it was distorted by some great distance. Movement in the back of the recording drew her eyes as a darkly dressed form came into frame behind the battered pilot. The camera at such an angle that the body of the person was cut off above the shoulders masking their identity.   

Virgil’s limp head was yanked painfully back by his matted hair, putting his face in the camera lens as a glint of finely honed steel pressed into the soft skin at his throat.  A small nick with the blade let forth a small trickle of blood but by the lack of response and the lax, bloody mouth it was obvious he was unconscious.

Biting back a growl at the mistreatment Kayo didn’t dare blink or look away as she prayed for Virgil  to show some sign of life. Anything to set the world in motion again.  The poor quality of the holo hampering the search but than the faintest of movements caught her eye and made her breath hitch and her heart gave a mighty kick in her chest.

There, under the ruddy skin along his stubbled jaw, straining awkwardly due to the thrust of his head was a laggy pulse of life at his jugular  

“He’s alive.”  She thought she heard herself say, not realizing as she began to shiver just how worried she’d been that she would have found something else down here. 

The brother beside her cursed and sagged back against her. “Oh god…”

And just like that everything came into sharp focus again and sound returned. Along with it like the rush of a burst dam a surge of anger coursed through her and immediately she registered what the digitally obscured voice was saying.  

The robotic cadence crackled through the little speaker of the recorder.  “Tracy, meet my demands and your Brother will live. No security, no GDF..if not...” The voice trailed off as another unidentifiable figure came into frame and with a rough hand bared down on Virgil’s shoulder. The scream that the action ripped from Virgil’s split, bloody lips and his body’s shuttered contortion of pain had Kayo nails biting into her palm in anger.

The warped laugh that followed the torturous sound was sinister and laced with an edge of madness, “We’ll be in contact.” A chuckle and the screen went dark.   

TBC

[artificialqueens]

Fall in Time, Ch3 (Branjie) - Somesilverreply

A/N:  Thanks again for your support! <3

Note: I’m basing the auditions Brooke attends off of the annual Unified auditions that aspiring BFA musical theatre/acting students go through which I’m very familiar with, but I’m not certain the recruitment for BFA dance programs are the same.

Read on AO3 here.

When Brooke Lynn Hytes was 17 years, 11 months, 3 days, and 1 minute old, she met her best friends.

But she didn’t know that, yet.

She had grown up in Canada, a small suburb outside Toronto with her mom. Her father hadn’t been around much, so she and her mother lived a quiet, conservative life that consisted of pancakes every morning (except Sundays) and dance recitals.

Brooke had known, from the time she was a little girl that the States was where she needed to be if she was going to be a ballerina. Canada had beautiful professional ballet, of course. Much to her mother’s dismay, however, she had her sights narrowed in on exactly what she wanted for herself and her life.

After some convincing and a little extra work around the house, she and her mother embarked on what Brooke remembers as The Great Audition Tour of 2003. She remembers riding in a plane for the first time, seeing New York City for the first time, and the way it all made her feel so small in a five-foot-eleven frame.

It’s day three, or four, she’s so blindingly exhausted from her anxious stomach keeping her up all night every night to the physical trauma of college dance auditions. She was practiced, she was trained, of course, and her mother made sure her shoulders never fell even for a second as they felt the illustrious buzz of New York when they walked through the city.

“Sit up, Brooke Lynn, you never know who could be watching,” her mother repeated like a mantra as they sat for breakfast each morning. She was always on.

But in the third hour of her fourth (she’s pretty sure) day of auditions, Brooke let out a laugh as she heard the murmurings of the girls beside her.

“I swear to God, I was holding relevé, and it was so fucking loud,” she heard one girl say, blonde and petite, looking almost like she belonged in a beauty pageant against to the stripped away anonymity of the black leotard, pink tights combination that painted the room.

“You farted?!” the other girl, as tall as Brooke but enviably slender with uniquely beautiful features, laughed incredulously, earning a small hit to the leg as the pair leaned over into a side stretch like a seasoned pair of synchronized swimmers.

The other blonde looked around, checking for any onlookers when she locked eyes with Brooke, giving a minuscule smile she tried to hide in the crook of her elbow mid stretch.

The girl looked embarrassed immediately, Brooke instantly correcting her expression.

“I’m so sorry you had to hear that, sis,” the blonde said with a chuckle, the girl beside her still stifling a laugh.

“It happens to the best of us,” Brooke shrugged, unsure whether or not she was safe to join in on the fun. She pressed her luck, happy to feel some of the pressure release from her shoulders for the first time in weeks.

“At least it wasn’t a silent but deadly,” she tried, immediately sending the other two girls into a fit of giggles, careful not to draw extra attention from the fellow auditionees (but failing, somewhat).

“I’m Alyssa, this is Yvie,” the blonde told her.

“Oh, I’m Brooke, are you guys friends?” she smiled, placing a careful strand of her bun that had fallen into her face behind her ear.

“She’s stalking me,” Yvie told her, completely deadpan.

“I am not, I’m not a stalker,” she turned to Brooke, “We met in our hotel night one, and we’ve just kind of hit it off this weekend. You been here all four days?”

Brooke nodded sheepishly before adding with a cautious drop in tone, “Unfortunately.”

“Tell me about it. I literally feel like I could stick my leg in a subway door and it would snap in half,” Yvie added, moving into a middle split with little to know extra effort required, her voice unwavering.

“Well, we got you, you’re one of us now,” Alyssa grabbed her hand with a smile, sharing a knowing glance with Brooke before they heard the boom of the microphone over the loudspeaker, instructing the hundred-plus girls in the room to rise.

That night, after the penultimate day of auditions was completed, Brooke nervously told her mother she had other dinner plans for the evening, that she had made friends. She looked at her mother carefully, expecting the reprimand or warning she’d grown accustomed to. Instead, she was greeted with a half smile, a light touch on the back, and a simple, “Be careful.”

Brooke had spent every night of that trip bee-lining for the hotel by 9:00pm, showered, practiced, and ready for the early AM wake up call. She had barely seen the city, and by the second or third day had begun to forget she was in any place that wasn’t the blinding white walls of a dance studio.

But that night, as she felt the soft red glow of Times Square, authentically American street hot dog in hand with her new American friends, she felt the most prepared she ever had all week. They spent all night running around the city, dancing in subway cars and calling Brooke “Canada” whenever she pointed out something that made the girls giggle. She had friends back home, of course. But not like this. Not so unabashedly carefree and naive.

So when they all tentatively sent each other MySpace messages as they opened their acceptance letters and found that all three of them were accepted to their number one choice school, it felt like pure magic radiated through the computer screens in all three ends of North America.

Alyssa and Yvie were her closest confidants, her mirrors, and her worst critics all at the same time. They were there for her through the trauma of her injury and did their best to remind her of who she was whenever they got the chance, even though Brooke hadn’t done so much as a twirl since it happened. Alyssa had worked with her on and off for years at Ballet D’Amerique, and now was working as a dance instructor in New York, while Yvie had been successfully working in Vegas shows for years, creating the perfect excuse for a girl’s trip weekend there every year.

They’d all changed, naturally. Brooke’s gentle, cold exterior she adorned now was different from the softness of her bright-eyed college days, but leave it to Alyssa and Yvie to bring out the parts of her she needed constant reminding were there.

So when Brooke Lynn Hytes was 33 years, 3 months, 19 days, 7 hours, and 7 minutes old, sitting on her red line train, the familiar whirl of the Chicago transit easing as the train car rose above ground, she pulled out her phone once again.

She’d contemplated calling them in her office earlier that morning, but that desire dissipated the second she’d shoved the flyer into the depths of her purse, as if it had some Mary Poppins transfigurative ability to make it cease to exist. But as she sat now, foot incessantly shaking as she sat cross-legged, uncomfortable and cramped in her seat, the air full of post-work bliss on a Friday evening, her heart never stopping to catch up to her breath in their ongoing footrace, she texted them.

To: Yves and Lyss

B: I have a problem.  

Y: ugh i’m about to go on :((

A: Hi how are ya to you too, Canada!! B: Sorry I know it’s been a while.

Y: i miss you bitches.

Y: got some mad D last night. forgot to text, sorry bout that

Y: he reminded me of greg from freshman year. but like.. not as high

B: Ew.

Y: sorry brooke catch me up later, dollface, i love you

A: Weed Greg!! haha

A: Brooke, call me bitch!!

Brooke cracked a smile and let it melt into the phone, calming the repetitive movement of her leg. With a sigh she reached into her purse the best way she could, shocking her body when her finger caught the edge of the flyer like it was begging for her attention. She grabbed her headphones, gingerly popping them into her ears as she moved to FaceTime her friend, forever thankful for the excuse to hear her friend’s voice.

“Okay, what’s the tea bitch?” Brooke heard suddenly, acutely aware of the burning glances in her direction.

“Shit, hold on,” she fumbled with the bluetooth, mouthing a few “sorry’s” around her as if anyone had given any real mind. It was the Chicago transit, she was hardly what anyone was looking at, and although Brooke was hardly one of the warm and gentle souls her home country had been known to produce, apologizing was a knee-jerk reaction she couldn’t shed.

“I don’t even feel bad for you, Miss Airpods,” Alyssa scuffed, before smiling at her brightly, simultaneously distracted but fully attentive to Brooke at the same time.

“What’re you up to?” Brooke asks, before paying closer attention to the shadows in the mirror evidently behind her. “Wait, Lyss, are you teaching right now?”

“Yeah, they’re taking a little juice break, it’s fine, what’s up? No time for the how was your day blah blah bullshit let’s go!”

Brooke shook her head gently with a heavy side of you’re nuts , and I love you , before breathing out a sigh that’d been trapped in her for hours.

“So I turned away another dancer today, and I don’t even know why, she just… made me feel… I don’t know.”

“ - Horny?” Alyssa finished, Brooke laughed, looking around her on the off chance of another headphone malfunction.

“No, I don’t know, just… weird. Like I suddenly wasn’t me, anymore. And not in a bad way, which is worse. And then she invited me to see her show tonight, to watch her dance, and it’s like part of me knows I should stand my ground because we’ve already gotten so many new dancers this month from other agents in the office and I already said no and what kind of talk will there be if Ice Queen Brooke Hytes is seeing little dance shows around the city like she has nothing else to do with her Friday night, which by the way, she doesn’t because she hasn’t gotten laid in like, 3 years, and lives alone with her fucking cats but no one can know that or else no one in the industry will take me seriously because I’m not even a dancer anymore so what do I even know and what the fuck do I do,” Brooke realizes she’s not even looking in Alyssa’s direction when she finishes with a huff, feeling the unfamiliar slump of her shoulders.

“Okay, Canada, breathe for me baby,” she looks at her through the glow of the screen, her eyes piercing her from miles away. She waits till she has Brooke’s eyes before telling her sternly, “you are a dancer. And a beautiful one at that. So don’t you think for a minute that part of you has gone away. And secondly, bitch, you need to get laid. Go fuck this girl, please, for my sake,” she gives her a knowing glance.

Brooke takes a breath, doing her best to muster a smile. “I don’t know her. And I certainly can’t do that. Can your kids hear you saying all this?”

“Their moms are still paying me, so it really doesn’t seem to matter all that much, do it?” she laughs. “Listen sweetie. It’s gonna be fine. Just sneak in the back, pull out one of your Gi-von-bur-berry-froo-froo sunglasses I know you have all incognito like. That way she doesn’t gotta see you there. And please report back, okay?” Alyssa turns her head to face to the side of the camera, looking out at her class and raising her voice. “Brooke should go, right girls?”

Brooke couldn’t help but roll her eyes with a laugh as she heard the thundering chorus of “yeah!” in only a way six-year-olds can.

“See bitch? I gotta go, but I love you honey,” Alyssa blows her a kiss, winking as she ends the call, Brooke feeling the lingering click of her tongue as she stares at the homepage on her phone, once carrying her best friend inside of it. She looks up, taking the headphones out, and feels the screeching halt as the red line stops at Fullerton, a few blocks from Brooke’s high-rise apartment. She can feel the soft carpet of her bedroom phantom-brush against her feet as she wills herself to stand, but locks her knees as they’re set into place, the train going as soon as it stops past the comfort of her little corner of Chicago.

Her legs were moving before her mind was, like her body knew what it needed before she did (it always had), and she found herself clutching the flyer as she stood in front of the advertised address.

The building was hardly anything to look at, in fact Brooke had done several double takes before finally deciding that yes, this was the place, but it was in high contrast to the modest theatre she had been expecting. It almost gave off a thick air of mystery and palpable intrigue, and Brooke braced herself as she slipped on the sunglasses and walked in.

She walked down a narrow hallway lit only by a small red exit sign, the only noise coming from the reverberated click of her heels and the muffled pre-show music and murmuring in the background.

After turning a corner she guessed was where she needed to be, entering a maze she was far too lost in to begin with, she barely registers a girl in a less than decorous bodysuit collecting donations, her eyes growing wide as Brooke drops in two one hundred dollar bills like they’re pennies in a fountain, her eyes locked ahead of her as she enters in the performance space. It’s a typical Chicago, rent-by-the-hour black box space, modestly filled with decoration and filled with rows of seats. Brooke’s thankful for the crowd that’s generated already, carefully slipping into an inconveniently placed (but conveniently for Brooke) stage left corner seat that slips out of the glow of the followspot on stage. She curses her deep-seated punctuality as the time of 8:48pm glows on her phone screen, and slips off her sunglasses, looking around casually. As she takes a breath, she’s finally aware of her surroundings, and namely who she’s surrounded by. She’s known growing up in the entertainment world that oftentimes small-venue performances such as these generally are only put on for resume building and so that people like Brooke can attend. On any given night you could have three people to a full house and it’s all considered normal. But as Brooke looks around to the people that surround her, she’s overcome by the unlikely undercurrent of excitement in the air.

There’s a fog machine intermittantly blowing the thick clouds into the already-stuffed room, and Brooke’s thankful for the particular blanket to her lungs giving her something to drown in.

Of course it’s popular, she thinks, I’d want to see Vanessa too .

She sees people of all walks of life, but a dedicated concert-like mosh pit of men surround the stage itself, and Brooke has to bite her tongue at the lack of etiquette. She knew this wasn’t a ballet performance, but it sure as hell wasn’t a display at the Chicago Zoo.

Her phone buzzes in her lap, giving her the reminded to silence it, the timing glowing 8:59pm as she takes one more glance at her notifications, quickly opening one from Alyssa to ground her.

From: Lyss

A: Bitch you’re motha fuckin Brooke Lynn Hytes, just like your momma say (maybe not the motha fuckin part) but you got this!! You’re gonna be just fine. That bitch is lucky she gets to be eye-fucked by you. ;)

Brooke smiles, slipping it into her void purse but this time so she can save it for later.

The lights begin to dim, and her stomach flips like it did before a dance recital, as if she were one of Pavlov’s dogs salivating at the ding of a bell.

With another gratuitous gust of fog, three girls come out in the dim, low lighting as the soft bump of a familiar jazz tune begins to play. There’s a few faint whistles of recognition from the audience, but nothing matching the energy of the pre-show volume they’d been living in before. Brooke recognized the song from one of her freshman dance classes, feeling the shadow pain of her teenage pointe shoes as she sees the figures enter the stage, each of the girl’s faces concealed by a Bob Fosse inspired black-brimmed hat. They’re snapping along to the rhythm, clad in full trench coats with the peak of a fishnet tight peeping out below the hem as they straddle individual bar stools. While it was a departure from her traditional eye, it wasn’t anything groundbreaking. They were in Chicago, after all, and Roxie Hart’s name had been spilled far too often for Brooke’s, and just about every talent agent’s in the city’s liking.

She cranes her neck, still not completely able to make out which one was Vanessa, the black of the coats swallowing the figure of the dancers. They’re all talented, clearly limber albeit a little traditionally stiff in style. As she watches them move from jazz kicks to jazz squares she’s hit with the sudden pang of realization that there’s no way she’ll be able to sign this girl, and she’s even thinking about leaving at intermission because the thought of lying to the poor girl when she gets that follow up email a week later is simply too hard to stomach and oh -

Oh.

First she hears it, then she sees it: the deafening beat of the bass, the inharmonious uproar of cheers and applause, the soft thud of the trench coats hitting the ground.

Any doubt she had finding Vanessa was relieved in an instant as she stepped out to take center stage, a mass of hands clawing at her feet, revealing her glowing skin in the flashing club-like trance of lights, wearing nothing but a small red bodysuit, dangerously sheer and lacy along her mid section. The girls behind her were wearing similar ensembles, coated in black and white, but Vanessa stood front and center, moving her hips impossibly slow and tantalizing to the beat. Brooke doesn’t know the song, and it doesn’t matter. The music radiating from the delicate trace of Vanessa’s inner thighs as she moves into the splits, and effortlessly steps out of them and into her next move and her next move and her next move could move mountains. The men in the front now suddenly became Brooke’s kindred spirits as she watched them wave one’s at her, swallowing back a bitter taste in her mouth as she watched in slow motion: Vanessa grabbed one of the men’s hands, sensually pulling him on stage, her finger light touches making it evident he was doing all the work to hoist himself up.

Vanessa looks powerful, endearing and dominating at the same time as she pushes him down into the stool, his eyes locked on her like he suddenly didn’t know how to use words anymore.

Brooke wasn’t sure she did either.

She works her magic on him like its a practiced spell, bending, arching her back, all while flawlessly executing technique Brooke’s Ballet D’Amerique troupe couldn’t dream of doing. Brooke swears she feels her breath leave her body as she leaves him high and dry after moving to kiss him on the lips, lingering enough to make the whole room want her more than they already did (if that was even possible) before moving away with a snap, wiping her bottom lip with her thumb as she walked away, finishing her number.

The millisecond between the end of the song and the audience reaction is tangible - Brooke swears she can feel everyone’s heartbeat in tandem before it’s simply too overwhelming to handle. She doesn’t even notice when she’s on her feet, slipping into the group-think of the crowd and losing herself in the moment.

Vanessa looks out at the crowd, smiling, blowing kisses, absolutely eating up every drop of praise the audience has to give her. Brooke, in any other given moment would be shaking her head, feeling herself collapse, feel terribly inadequate, or any delectable entree featuring all three.

But she was mesmerized. Vanessa’s eyes were sparkling under the harsh lights, the red of her costume so commanding it’s like she was daring the crowd to stop.

Her eyes scanning. Her eyes.

Fuck.

It’s brief, but it’s enough. Their eyes meet, and Brooke’s body once again has her moving, anywhere, far, far away, thanking her photo-oriented memory as she once again navigates the delicate maze of the building that’s now become her sacred alter.

She doesn’t stop until she feels the rush of cold air, the whirling of the red line train, and the soft carpet of her bedroom.

Brooke clicks off her phone by her bed, the familiar glow softening for the night.

But no sooner than she sets it down is she ripping it from its resting spot, eyes glazing over the email she hadn’t dared believe would come so soon.

From: vanessamateo@hotmail.com

To: brookehytes@matthewsagency.com

Ms. Hytes,

I’ll see you Monday?

Xo,

Vanessa

[aranciafiamma]

The Demon Wears Neon

My Holiday Gift for @teatimeunicorpia​ for @mp100ficrec gift exchange!

Prompt:  High Fashion AU starring designer Teru

Ship: None, Kageyama Mob & Hanazawa Teruki

Summary:  Mob has been set a challenge by his parents. He needs to learn how to live on his own. Which means find a place, find a job, and then keep the job. That sounds easy enough. (No Powers AU) -Inspired by the Devil Wears Prada and Princess Jellyfish

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - MORNING

Stylish. Chic. Desperately trying to be bougie. Looks like the backstage of a runway, with employees that just stepped away from a photoshoot.

SHIGEO KAGEYAMA, 22, stradles the line between homely and homeless. He appears so unremarkable that he goes by a second name, MOB.

Mob loiters in front of the entrance. He looks up at the big, lit up sign and then at the job opening flyer posted on the door. He peers inside for the nth time.

The contrast between the sharply-heeled, precise-cut outfitted clerks and himself is apparent. Comparable to the way a multi-million, downtown condo contrasts an abandoned cottage in the woods. He sighs.

MOB There's no way...

He shifts his gaze down.

A shot of his scuffed-up sneakers on the concrete sidewalk.

INT. KAGEYAMA HOUSE - EVENING

Two weeks ago.

A shot of the same scuffed-up sneakers but on the laminated floor of a genkan. Shot pans up.

MRS. KAGEYAMA, middle-aged with a no nonsense look that can only be cultivated by raising two boys. She stands in front of Mob, hands on her hips.

Mob just got home, looking like he went out for a run. He's in a pair of sweatpants with a white T-shirt damp from sweat.

MOB Oh. I'm ho-

MRS. KAGEYAMA Are you doing anything tomorrow?

MOB No? I don't-

MRS. KAGEYAMA What about the next week? Or the next month? Or the next year? Do you have any plans at all?

MOB Um...

Mrs. Kageyama drags a hand down her face.

MRS. KAGEYAMA Shige. You're a grown man now. It's time you learned how to live on your own. Just look at Ritsu! Gone off to college!

MOB But you agreed college wasn't for me.

MRS. KAGEYAMA I did. That doesn't mean I wanted you to just hang around the house. You're not even working! You know, your father and I won't be here forever. We can't keep waiting for you to get moving.

MOB What does that mean?

MRS. KAGEYAMA We agreed to provide you with one month's rent. Just to get you started. Find yourself a place. Find yourself a job. It doesn't have to be anything fancy. You could work at a 7/11. I just -

Mrs. Kageyama sighs. Every year of her age seems to catch up in a single second. She looks tired and worn out, like a beloved blanket washed too many times.

MRS. KAGEYAMA We just need to know that you're going to be okay...

Mob looks down at his feet. Silence for an extended pause.

MOB That's one month?

MRS. KAGEYAMA Yes. Plenty of time, don't you think?

A front shot of Mob's face, focus on his eyes - a flat, dead-fish looking stare.

MOB Yeah... Yeah, okay.

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - MORNING

Same shot of Mob's eyes.

MOB This is a bad idea.

TERU Blocking the door tends to be.

A full shot. Mob jumps and whips around to see TERUKI HANAZAWA, 23, the human personification of LMFAO's "Sexy and I Know It". His personal style is disco night meets black light parties - a lot of sequins, a lot of neon. 

He peers over his bedazzled, heart-shaped sunglasses, giving Mob a once over. He is not impressed with what he sees.

TERU Well?

Mob blinks at him.

TERU (clicks tongue) Get out of the way.

Mob scrambles off to the side. Teru flounces in, his many shopping bags hit Mob on the way. Stunned, Mob dazedly follows him inside.

There's an uproar as all the store clerks swarm Teru. They take his bags, asking rapid fire questions, presenting him with products. Mob watches, swept off to the side.

ARATAKA REIGEN, 36, like a car salesman but fashionable. He strides through the crowd, holding up two belts.

REIGEN There you are, Teruki. I'm planning to change the window display. Help me pick a belt.

Both belts are teal, wide, and flat but with different buckles and base materials. To the casual onlooker, the belts appear identical.

MOB Aren't those the same belts?

A pause. All the store clerks and Reigen look at him. Mob becomes a living statue - maybe not even living - a soon to expire statue.

Slowly, dramatically, Teru turns to face Mob.

TERU Oh. The boy masquerading as a door mat.

Mob draws up his shoulders, a turtle ducking into his shell.

MOB I... There was...

He points at the job opportunity flyer. Teru frowns.

TERU I knew that flyer was a bd idea. It invites all kinds of riff raff.

MOB Puh- Please. Two weeks. Rent due. I need - That is, I can... Please.

Reigen sighs and lightly nudges Teru.

REIGEN Listen kid. We need more help. I'm sure with the right training-

Teru glances at Reigen, glances back at Mob, then gives Reigen a look that could dry up the seas in second.

TERU We aren't running a charity here. Our job candidates should at least start from rock bottom, not the inner depths of the Earth's crust.

MOB I can work very hard! An - And I can follow orders! I'll do my best to learn!

REIGEN Oh give him a chance. He can work in the back, doing inventory. No one has to see him. We really need the extra help.

TERU I heard you the first time.

REIGEN Did you.

Reigen and Teru lock eyes. A tense moment.

TERU Alright! Fine. We can take him on. Temporarily. If he messes up my shop, it's on your head.

MOB ... Wait. This is your shop?

Teru and Reigen stare blankly at him. A beat. Teru turns to Reigen with a grin that could put a laughing Buddha to shame.

TERU Good luck, Arataka. You are going to need it.

Teru walks away with a dramatic spin on his heel. His staff follow after him like particularly noisy chickadees - chirping out new questions and suggestions.

Reigen and Mob both watch them go. A pause. Reigen looks over to find Mob preoccupied with a nearby sweater. His fingers run over the smooth cashmere in a repetitive rhythm.

REIGEN (clears throat) Alright, kid. I just stuck my neck out for you. Don't let me down.

Mob blinks. His eyes got that thousand yard stare. Reigen's brow twitches.

REIGEN Geez. You really make a guy feel confident about his choices. What's your name?

MOB Shigeo Kageyama. My friends call me Mob.

REIGEN Like a mob boss?

MOB Like a mob character.

REIGEN .... Right. I'm Arataka Reigen.

Mob nods. A long, stretched out pause. They stare at each other.

MOB Oh. Thank you. And please excuse me but, why did you do that?

REIGEN What? Help you out? Listen, a new stock of our famous Jellyfish couture just came in. It's a massive order. I could either go crazy doing it by myself OR we could hire you to give me a hand. Now come on.

Reigen walks away, beckons Mob to follow. Mob stays put.

MOB We're starting now?

Reigen doesn't even pause or glance back.

REIGEN Why? You got other stuff to do?

Mob stumbles after him, trying to catch up.

INT. CRYPTID APARTMENT - EVENING

Messy, cluttered, obviously occupied by more than one twenty something. Anime merch scattered on every surface. Sci-fi posters plastered on the walls. A roach sets out from the Take Out Box street and visits its cousin in Candy Wrapper lane.

TOME KURATA, 24, self-identifies as a cryptid but actually she's just a NEET. She's camped out on the living room floor, playing a console game.

Mob enters. He looks like the patient of a medieval doctor - as in someone stuck a bunch of leeches on him and now he's nothing more than a husk of a human being.

TOME Ossu! How'd the job hunting go?

MOB ... I got one.

Tome pauses her game and faces him.

TOME Nice! Did you - Woah! What happened to you?

Mob doesn't answer. He shuffles over to the couch and faceplants on it. He is dead now.

Fade to black.

TOME Mob? Oi, Mob! Mobbu-kun!

INT. CRYPTID APARTMENT - AFTERNOON

Two weeks ago.

Blackout.

TOME Mob?

Fade in. An unimpressed Tome stands with her arms crossed. She looks Mob up and down.

TOME What kind of name is that?

Full shot. MAMETA INUKAWA, 22, vaguely resembles a Shiba Inu. He's standing next to Mob, a hand clapped on his shoulder. They're both facing Tome.

INUKAWA Oh it's just something we liked to call him.

MOB My name is Shigeo Kageyama. It's pleasure to meet you.

TOME Huh. I'm Tome Kurata.

MOB Oh. That's my grandmother's name.

TOME Neat. So. Our last roommate fucked off without paying in advance. We're really in a bind here. I'm not even asking for the full payment just half.

MOB Yes. I can pay. But I need a room.

TOME Pfft! If you keep paying, you keep staying. Just don't murder us all in our sleep. And for the love of all things holy, wash your fucking dishes after you eat. That's all.

MOB I can manage that.

TOME Excellent. Welcome to the Cryptid Den, Mob-kun.

MOB Uh... Cryptid?

INUKAWA Because we're all hopeless shut-ins who barely scrape by on night-shift part-time work. So, seeing us is like sighting a cryptid - you know, Big Foot, Nessie...

TOME BZT! Wrong! We're cryptids because we all have a mysterious allure!

INUKAWA Oh. I thought that was just the smell from your unwashed bras.

Tome shrieks wordlessly and flails at him.

A torso shot of Mob, standing in front of the door.

INT. CRYPTID APARTMENT - EVENING

The same shot of Mob, sitting at the dining table. The rest of his roommates have trudged out of their self-imposed isolation. They're eating take-out sushi.

SARUTA SHIRIHIKO, 22, big, broad, and butt-chinned. He casually steals sushi from Inukawa's plate. HARUTO KIJIBAYASHI, 24, always looks stressed out but it's just his resting face. He laughs as Inukawa thumps Shirihiko.

Mob focuses on carefully dipping a roll into soy sauce.

Tome walks in, carrying a pack of beer. She thumps it on the table before taking a seat.

TOME Right, boys. I don't have to remind you. But I'm still gonna so don't you give me any excuses later. Rent is due in two weeks. That is 14 days. Got it? Mob, you listening?

Mob lifts his head. His roll slips from his chopsticks and splashes soy sauce on him. He flinches and reaches for a napkin. He pats himself down.

A pause. Everyone is waiting for him to respond. Distantly, the front door can be heard opening.

RITSU KAGEYAMA, 21, a Hot Mess pretending to be the Cool Guy. He walks in.

Tome clears her throat. Mob returns his attention to her.

MOB Ah. Yes. I heard. I can pay on time. I have a job now.

RITSU Really, Nii-san? Congratulations!

Ritsu grabs a beer and takes a seat next to Mob. Tome eyes him.

TOME Oi, Kageyama. If you keep coming around here, and I'll start charging you for rent.

RITSU Please, Kurata-san. I am a poor college student. I don't have a penny to my name.

INUKAWA What's the job? Where at?

MOB So far it's been managing inventory. At some place called Teru.

KIJIBAYASHI Whoa. Wait. Teru?

RITSU Do you like it?

MOB Mmmm... I have a lot to learn. It's very tiring.

TOME Yeah. You looked half-dead when you got in today.

Ritsu frowns, gripping his beer can hard enough to dent.

RITSU Well. Don't work too hard.

MOB I'll be fine. You don't need to worry about me.

RITSU Just promise me if you get too stressed out-

KIJIBAYASHI I can't believe you're working at Teru!

INUKAWA Why is that such a big deal?

KIJIBAYASHI It's like super popular! The store owner is supposedly some kinda fashion prodigy.

SHIRIHIKO And how do you know this?

KIJIBAYASHI My girlfriend. She's all about this kinda stuff.

TOME Hold up! When the hell did you get a girlfriend?

The rest give Kijibayashi hell. Ritsu turns his attention to Mob.

RITSU If it gets too much, you can always quit.

MOB I know. But I really do need money.

RITSU I can talk to Mom. I can convince her to let you come home. You don't need to put yourself through this.

MOB Mom's busy taking care of Dad. He's still on medical leave, you know?

RITSU Still?

MOB ... I want to do my best.

Ritsu scowls and takes an angry sip of his beer.

Tome has moved to throwing pizza crusts at Kijibayashi and Shirihiko. Inukawa is in tears from laughing.

RITSU If you need anything-

MOB Ritsu. It's fine. (beat) And you need to stop checking up on me. I know you're busy with college.

RITSU (sighs) Okay, Nii-san. Okay.

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - MORNING

Mob enters. The boutique is in a frenzy. Store clerks run about blindly. Teru is at the center of all the mayhem. He's fixing up a mannequin, paying little attention to the panic.

TSUYOSHI EDANO, 24, stuck in his "high school punk" phase but now in a suit. He stands next to Teru, taking notes.

TERU Details of your incompetence do not interest me. Tell Simone I'm not going to approve that girl she sent me. I asked for clean, athletic, smiling. She sent me dirty, tired, and paunchy.

Reigen appears next to Mob. He grabs his arm. Mob jumps.

REIGEN You're late!

MOB I... But... You told me to come at 8am. It's 8am.

REIGEN Clearly I meant to come 15 minutes earlier. That's how it works around here.

Reigen pulls Mob through the store. Mob watches the store clerks rush around.

MOB Is it always like this?

REIGEN Just the Teru effect. But he's in fine form today. The shop isn't even open yet and he's already sent someone crying.

Mob blinks, slightly frowning.

REIGEN I wouldn't worry about it. Your job is out of his way. Unlike mines.

MOB If you don't mind me asking, what is your job?

REIGEN Mostly I handle the daily operations of the shop. But I'm also the event planner. Teruki puts on fashion shows, you see. It's what all those fancy brands - Gucci, Prada, Versace - they all do it. And that kid, well he believes himself on par with them. So of course whatever they do, he will too. Never mind that they've got more resources and reach. So he's just stressing himself out for not much pay off. And of course, us underlings get the brunt of his freak outs - I'm ranting, aren't I? Don't mind me, kid.

MOB I wasn't. I didn't get... any of that.

They enter the backroom. It looks like the kind of place where simple joys die slow, drawn out deaths. No windows. Buzzing, overhead lights. A small mountain of unopened boxes next to a second door. Rows and rows of shelves and racks, most empty. Not a lot of breathing room.

Reigen glances over at Mob.

REIGEN Mob, right? Just do as I say and we should get along fine.

Mob stares at Reigen.

REIGEN Think you can do that?

MOB Oh. Yes.

REIGEN Good. Now, where did I leave off yesterday...

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - MONTAGE

Mob hard at work. He's carrying a huge box. He can't see where he's going. He bumps into a store clerk who stumbles back, knocking over a set of mannequins. There's a deafening crash. Reigen comes running over.

REIGEN Mob!

Reigen carefully jotting down the inventory. He double checks to make sure they received everything. Behind him, Mob unpacks a few boxes. He pauses for a moment, wiping his brow. He notices an electric fan in the corner - it's huge, industrial sized. He switches it open. The sudden breeze sends all of Reigen's files flying.

REIGEN Mob!!

Mob walks in, carrying a tray of tea. He trips over his feet and sends the drinks flying, headed right for the unwrapped stock of very expensive cashmere skirts. Reigen yells and makes a mad dash. In slow motion - like watching a hardened soldier take a bullet for a fallen comrade - Reigen steps in and shields the skirts from the tea splash.

MOB ... Oops.

Reigen now dripping wet.

REIGEN MOB!!!

EXT. BACK ALLEY - AFTERNOON

A cramped area behind the boutique. Largely bare. Only a recycling bin full of flattened boxes, a mostly empty trash bin, and Mob.

He squats next to the door. He picks at a store-bought bento.

MOB (sighs) Man. I suck at this.

Door swings violently open. It knocks into Mob, upturning his bento and spilling the food all over him.

Teru enters.

MOB ... Ow.

Teru glances over and sees him.

TERU You know, if I had wanted a doormat, I could have bought a perfectly serviceable one at a department store. It would have been better looking too.

Mob focuses on brushing the food off him.

TERU Hello? I'm talking to you.

Mob slowly lifts his head and turns to Teru.

TERU Are you deaf?

MOB No.

TERU Then why didn't you say anything?

MOB Was I supposed to?

TERU Sorry would be a good start.

MOB But... You're the one that hit me... With the door...

Teru turns away from him. He pulls out his phone and a cigarette. He starts a call, puffing out smoke.

Mob gets up, throws away his bento, and enters the boutique.

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - AFTERNOON

Mob walks into the backroom. Reigen is using a box for a desk, scribbling fast. He sees Mob and turns to him.

REIGEN Whoa. Did you eat lunch or did lunch eat you?

MOB I-

REIGEN Yeah, yeah. Listen. Kid. This isn't gonna work.

MOB What won't?

REIGEN You are just constantly in the way. I can't believe you've stayed on. You're clearly not cut out for this. You should quit.

A pause. Mob shakes his head slowly. He scratches at his arm.

MOB ... No.

Another pause, drawn out. Reigen studies him.

REIGEN This is a fashion boutique. Employees should have an interest in fashion. Which you don't.

MOB I can learn.

REIGEN Who's going to teach you? Because I just don't have the time.

Mob scratches his arm faster.

MOB Give me - Give me one more chance. I need to work. I can't - Mom and Dad - tired of disappointing.

A pause.

Teru enters with his usual dramatic flair.

TERU Reigen, I need coffee.

REIGEN I'm busy, brat.

TERU Then get your little errand boy to do it. Isn't that why we hired him?

Mob stops scratching his arm. He balls his hands into fists.

MOB I can do it!

TERU You don't have a choice. I want a triple grande caramel macchiato in a venti cup, 1/2 whole milk, 1/2 almond milk, a splash of soy, double the amount of vanilla syrup, caramel wall in the cup, extra whip. Understood?

Mob did not understand.

MOB Y-Yes.

TERU Then what are you standing around for? Go!

INT. STARBUCKS - AFTERNOON

No place special. Just somewhere to get the usual caffeine fix.

Mob stands at the counter. A hand furiously scratches at his arm. He stares at the menu. Seen from his point of view, the menu starts to blur into an unreadable mess.

ICHI MEZATO, 22, the love child of Sherlock Holmes and Lois Lane. She mans the register, eyeing Mob. A line is forming behind him.

MEZATO Hey! I know you! Don't you work at Teru?

Mob jumps. He stops scratching.

MOB Ho-How did you know?

MEZATO I stopped by this morning and saw you knock a store clerk into those mannequins. Man, that was funny. Lemme guess. You're here for the bossman.

Mob nods.

MEZATO I gotchu. He always gets the same thing. I've memorized the order by now.

MOB That's... convenient.

MEZATO Hey, don't question your luck. It seems like a stressful place to work at. You're gonna need all the help.

MOB Thank you...

Mob squints at her name tag.

MOB Mezato-san?

MEZATO That will be 400 yen.

Mob freezes.

MEZATO ... He didn't give you money, did he?

Mob mournfully pulls out his wallet, sighing.

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - EVENING

Mob enters. Teru dashes over. Reigen stays standing at the register. He watches them.

TERU Finally! What took you so long? I thought you died or something!

MOB Please excuse me.

Mob hands the coffee to Teru. He eyes the cup suspiciously before taking a sip.

TERU Hmph. I suppose that will do.

Teru turns around and flounces away. Reigen walks up to Mob.

REIGEN That brat always orders the most elaborate stuff. I'm surprised you managed it. So you can follow instructions, huh?

MOB Yes.

REIGEN Alright. I can give you one more shot at this. But if you mess up, that's it.

INT. CRYPTID APARTMENT - EVENING

Mob and Ritsu sit on the couch. Tome and Inukawa play some sort of dancing game. They are both obviously out of shape.

RITSU How's work?

MOB It's going okay.

RITSU Not too stressful?

A pause. Mob keeps his eyes on the game. Ritsu watches him.

MOB I'm handling it.

Ritsu says nothing.

A beat. Mob yawns. He stretches and the sleeves slip down. His arms have raw-red scratch marks. Ritsu grabs Mob.

RITSU What is this?

MOB Don't worry about it.

RITSU Nii-san! This job is obviously awful. Please quit. I can loan you some money. You don't need -

MOB I need to be treated like a grown up. I'm the older brother. I should be taking care of you not...

RITSU I don't need to be taken care of.

MOB Then at least let me take care of myself. I'm not quitting.

RITSU But-

MOB Drop it, Ritsu.

Tome and Inukawa finally collapse from overexertion.

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - MORNING

A week later.

Mob and Reigen are in one of the dressing rooms. Reigen is carefully outfitting Mob with some of the store's best-sellers.

MOB Um... Reigen-san.

Reigen buttons up a smart-looking vest. It's very tight. Mob scratches at the seams. His posture has gotten very tense.

REIGEN What, Mob?

MOB Do you really think I'm ready to work at the front?

REIGEN Nope. But if you stay working in the back with me, I might just go completely insane.

Mob deflates.

REIGEN I'm just kidding. You've really gotten better.

Reigen winds a tie around his neck. Mob squirms, trying to loosen it. Reigen knocks his hand away.

REIGEN Stop that.

MOB Is all this stuff really necessary?

REIGEN Unfortunately. Teruki doesn't let anyone on the floor unless they're looking runway ready. It's part of the hashtag-aesthetic.

MOB I don't know what that means.

REIGEN Same, kid.

Reigen claps Mob on the shoulders. He spins him around to face the mirror.

A full shot of his reflection. It's still Mob, with his bland-looking face and his severe-looking haircut. But his clothes are well-fitted and the dark colors complement his skin tone. He looks... well, pretty nice actually. Mob puffs up, smiling a bit

REIGEN There, now. All you gotta do is keep the racks stocked and the shelves organized. We're not throwing you behind the register or anything. So don't worry. But you should be familiar with what we carry. Right?

MOB Um...

REIGEN Say yes.

MOB Yes.

REIGEN Good. Now get out there.

Reigen shoves Mob out of the dressing room. There's a cart full of stock waiting for him. He blinks and stares at it.

REIGEN Take that to the front. You can figure out where to put it all.

Mob jumps and jerks into action. His movements are stiff, almost robotic. He wheels the cart into the crowded sales floor. Store clerks are buzzing about, flitting from customer to customer.

Mob watches them all and idly tugs at his tie, scratching his neck. He nearly crashes into a customer.

CUSTOMER Hey! Watch it!

MOB Sorry - Excuse me!

Mob hastily drags the cart over to a corner, breathing fast and hard. Both hands reach up to his neck, digging his nails in and scratching hard - leaving the skin an angry red.

A pause. Mob inhales deeply and faces the sales floor again. He looks at the cart then at the racks and starts heading out.

The chatter of the customers and clerks steadily grow louder. Mob scratches at the seams of his vest. He rocks on his heels as he hangs up some of the stock.

A store clerk passes by, casually re-applying perfume. Mob doubles over, clapping a hand over his nose and mouth.

A pulse can be heard - it's Mob. At first, just a steady beat hidden under all the noise. But slowly deafens everything else. Close up on the customers lips - smiling and talking away. Close up on the display lights, blindingly bright and everywhere. Close up on the vest's material, the starchy woven fabric embroidered with gold thread.

A full shot of Mob. He appears completely frozen. The cart is off to the side, abandoned.

A customer approaches.

CUSTOMER Hey, excuse me. But I'm looking for a cashmere skirt. It's part of your fall line, I think. Could you help me?

A hand reaches out and gently nudges Mob's shoulder. Mob flinches away - as if electrocuted. He slaps away the hand and snarls at the customer. He looks ready to go apeshit.

A beat.

CUSTOMER Um. What the he-

Mob dashes away. He tugs off the tie, flinging it away. It hits Reigen, dealing with a customer nearby. He turns.

REIGEN Ow! Hey, who threw tha - Mob?

Mob exits the sales floor.

INT. EMERGENCY ROOM - NIGHT

Five weeks ago.

Whitewashed walls, sterile-tiled floors. Buzzing flourescent lights. A crossbreed between a lab and a holding cell.

Mob is curled up on a chair. He scratches his ears. Mrs. Kageyama paces, wringing her hands. Ritsu enters, dashing in.

RITSU How is he?

Mrs. Kageyama stops pacing.

MRS. KAGEYAMA Oh, Ritsu! You didn't need to come all this way!

RITSU Didn't?! Dad just had a stroke! How can you -

A pause. Ritsu breathes in deeply. He looks over at Mob. He approaches cautiously.

RITSU Hey, Nii-san. You okay?

Mob doesn't answer. He doesn't even glance at Ritsu.

MRS. KAGEYAMA Oh don't bother him. When your father collapsed, I thought to faint myself. Must've seemed worse for Shige.

RITSU And is Dad...?

A pause. Mrs. Kageyama slowly shakes her head. A sob bursts out. Ritsu rushes over and drapes an arm around her.

Close up on Mob. Mrs. Kageyama can be heard crying in the background. He squeezes his eyes shut, gripping his knees hard.

INT. KAGEYAMA HOUSE - EVENING

Three weeks ago.

Mob stands at the entry way. He's dressed in a pair of sweats and a white T-shirt.

MR. KAGEYAMA, middle aged, stooped over from years of hard work and a very recent hospitalization. He is escorted in by Ritsu. They pass by Mob.

MR. KAGEYAMA I can walk just fine. You're making me feel old, son.

RITSU You are old, Dad.

MR. KAGEYAMA Yes. But you shouldn't say it.

Mob watches them disappear into the kitchen. Mrs. Kageyama enters, stuffing her wallet into her purse.

MRS. KAGEYAMA Shige, if you've got time to be gawking, then you should be setting out the plates for dinner. You did order the take-out like I asked, did-

Mob pushes past her, kicking off his slippers and shoving on his sneakers.

MRS. KAGEYAMA Shige? What - You're going out? Now?

Mob remains silent. His expression is the most serious seen. He dashes out the door.

MRS. KAGEYAMA Shige!

EXT. STREET - CONTINUOUS

Empty. Rows of unlit houses cage in the lane. The sky is a heartbreaking purple.

Mob runs. He runs and he runs and he runs. His face is a rictus of pain as he draws sharp, short breaths. He stumbles a little but quickly regains his footing. He keeps running.

A shot of a streetlight, flickering on.

EXT. BACK ALLEY - EVENING

Close up on a streetlight.

Pan out. Mob leans against the wall.

He's pulling off the vest, rocking on his heels. His breathing is fast and short. He frantically scratches everywhere.

Reigen enters. He's got the tie hooked around a finger. He watches Mob.

REIGEN I'm guessing you didn't like the fit?

Mob doesn't answer. He's crumpled up the vest in his hands, squeezing tightly. Reigen winces.

A long drawn out pause.

REIGEN So. How long are you gonna stay out here?

Mob stops scratching.

REIGEN Just ran out the door. Honestly. You scared a customer.

Mob slowly turns to Reigen.

REIGEN You're really bad at this. Dunno why you stick around. It's not a good fit for you.

Mob blinks.

REIGEN ... Just finish out the rest of this week. Then, you can get paid and go.

Mob shakes his head. He turns to face the wall, inhales deeply. A beat.

MOB I want to work. I can. I have to. I'm - I want to stop running.

REIGEN Okay... Why...?

MOB Be-Because I need to prove I can.

REIGEN To who?

MOB To myself. That I can grow. And I'm going to be fine. And if I - if I just work hard enough...

A pause. Reigen hisses out a breath.

REIGEN Right. Well you don't need to kill yourself in the process. Look, you've scratched your neck into bleeding.

MOB Happens. Been trying not to scratch so much.

REIGEN Okay. So how about this. Let's go back to managing the inventory for a bit. And then... Well, if you still really want to, we can ease you into the front.

MOB But wasn't this the easy job?

REIGEN Then I guess we'll have to make it easier.

A pause. Reigen studies Mob.

REIGEN Are you absolutely sure? You don't have to. You can get a job that isn't retail.

Mob doesn't answer. Again he faces the wall and holds his hands, trying not to scratch.

MOB My parents. They never... When they first found out I had autism, they never treated it like a big deal. They just went - "Ah, okay." They never stopped me from doing what I wanted to do. (beat) They honestly believe in me. That I can take care of myself. I want to - I want to believe it too.

Then Mob glances at Reigen and smiles.

MOB And. You know. Not a lot of options for part-timers with no work experience. I can do this.

Reigen barks out a laugh, shaking his head. He spins the tie around his finger.

REIGEN Then let's get started.

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - EVENING

Two days later.

The boutique is closed. The store clerks have fled. Reigen and Teru argue loudly. They stand by the registers. A cup of coffee on the counter.

Mob enters, carrying several shopping bags.

TERU I don't understand why it's so difficult to confirm an appointment!

REIGEN But I did confirm last night!

Teru notices Mob at the door.

TERU Who are you? The store is closed! Can't you see the sign?

MOB Oh but -

REIGEN He works with me, remember? Helps out in the stock room? I just sent him to pick up some scarves for your little fashion show.

TERU And it took him this long to come back? What happened? Did he get into an accident?

MOB I got lost.

TERU You got lost. He got lost. Okay you know what. Get out. I already sent everyone home but you - you won't be returning.

MOB ... What does that -

REIGEN Hey, don't pick on him! He's trying his best!

TERU His best clearly isn't good enough. I expect nothing short excellence.

Teru gifts Reigen with a sneer that threatened to melt the flesh from his face.

TERU And there's seems to be a shortage of that around here!

A pause. Reigen shakes his head.

REIGEN That's it. I'm done. Come find me when you're finished throwing your tantrum.

TERU Find you? I'm firing you!

REIGEN Is that right?

TERU I'm the boss around here! Seems like you forgot!

REIGEN Just never figured you to be an idiot. Stupid sometimes sure. But not an idiot. Have fun trying to figure everything without me!

TERU Fine!

REIGEN Fine!

Reigen storms out, exiting through the backroom.

A pause. Teru sees Mob watching.

TERU And what are you looking at? Huh? Yet another mistake of his. Didn't I tell you to leave? You're fired too.

MOB That was mean. He was only trying to help.

TERU Didn't you hear me? You're fired.

MOB I heard you. And... And I don't care. All Reigen-san has ever done is help you. He works overtime trying to put together your fashion show. But you just keep yelling at him. That's not right.

TERU Who are you to lecture me? Get out!

MOB You go around yelling at people and for what? Why do that? It doesn't actually help anything except maybe make you feel better. That's not - You can't just lash out.

TERU Watch me.

Teru picks up the coffee and flings it at Mob. He ducks. The coffee splashes across the front doors.

MOB Hey! That's dangerous! You'll ruin the clothes!

TERU Those are my clothes! And I'll ruin all of it if I please!

Teru pulls out a pair of scissors from the counter. He picks up a skirt and proceeds to cut it into pieces.

TERU You think you're better than me. Is that it? Is that why you keep lecturing me? As if I'm some poor, retarded child.

Mob balls his hands into fists.

MOB That's enough.

Teru picks up shirt and slices it into ribbons.

TERU When really, between the two of us, whose the real retard here? Hmm?

MOB Shut up.

TERU You think I didn't know? Please. I know everything that goes on inside my little shop. You almost lost me a customer.

MOB I said shut up.

TERU If I wasn't so busy, I would have fired you earlier.

Mob screams. He throws the shopping bags at Teru. Some fall halfway. Some miss. But one hits Teru right in the face.

A pause. Teru turns to Mob, a truly ugly grimace on his face.

TERU You!

Teru grips the scissors like a knife and lunges at Mob. He jerks back, hands catching Teru's. There's a struggle for dominance. Snip.

Snip?

Both freeze. They eye as a huge chunk of Teru's hair falls between them.

A long pause.

Teru lets out a heart-wrenching wail. He drops the scissors. Hands reach up, clutching at his now very uneven hair do.

MOB ... I'm sorry...

Teru falls to the floor. He curls up into a ball, shivering.

TERU It's over. I'm ruined. I'm done. Finished. A washed-up has-been.

MOB You can still fix it. Just even it out. Maybe.

Teru finally lifts his head. Tears and snot stream down his blotchy-red face.

TERU You don't get it! How could you? Living your dull, ugly life.

MOB You're not much better looking.

A pause. Teru blinks at him.

TERU Excuse me?

MOB You look the same as everyone else. To me, at least. It's good that you wear all those neon clothes. Or else I wouldn't know it was you.

A beat. Teru starts laughing. He laughs long and hard. The laughter turns into soft sobbing. Mob watches, unsure what to do.

TERU You're face blind? Of course you are. What is a god to a nonbeliever?

MOB ... Should I call an ambulance? Are you... okay?

TERU No, I am not. I've been arranging this stupid fashion show, when I don't have anything to show. I try and I try to design. But nothing comes. Hey, what do you think I'm doing wrong?

A pause.

TERU Look at me. Asking help from a -

MOB I can't wear any of your clothes. And I always thought it was a bit unfair... If only certain people can wear your clothes and others can't.

TERU That's just how the world works. It caters only to the special ones - those gifted with beauty and talent. Like moi.

MOB I don't know who moi is, but they can't be very special. And if you're just following what the world does... Then aren't you just like everyone else?

Another pause. Longer this time, softer. Teru looks at Mob, really looks at him.

TERU ... I'm sorry I called you... Well, you know what I called you.

MOB Yes. I'm still angry about that.

TERU Right. As you should be. I would like to... I don't mean to sound presumptive, but I'd like to earn your forgiveness - if I may!

MOB ... How?

TERU Well, first. You're definitely not fired.

MOB And Reigen-san?

TERU He isn't either. In fact, I'm giving you two some very important jobs.

Mob eyes Teru warily.

INT. CAFE - AFTERNOON

A popular hangout for college kids. Mismatched decor, worn out furniture, posters for open mic night. Currently crowded.

Teru and Ritsu sit together.

TERU Model for me, mon chéri.

RITSU I’m sorry. You want my brother to... what?

TERU Really. It's that simple.

RITSU ... And we are talking about my brother, right? Kageyama Shigeo?

TERU Do you have any more brothers?

RITSU Look... I... Can you just explain? Why him?

TERU Why is this so unbelievable? Do you not think he can be a model?

Ritsu flinches as if struck.

RITSU That’s-

TERU Well, if you really don’t understand.

RITSU Okay, you know what-

TERU I've worked with many top-class models. As I'm sure you know.

RITSU I didn't, actu-

TERU I'm used to certain standards of beauty. And your brother... failed to meet any.

RITSU So why -

TERU And I admit, upon first glance, I practically dozed off with how utterly dull he looks.

RITSU Hey now -

TERU But then! Oh but then! My eyes were opened! I was enlightened! Your brother has a certain... Mmmm... Je ne sais quoi...

Ritsu thumps his fist on the table.

RITSU Enough with the French! I get it! You're very cultured!

TERU Oh grazie.

Ritsu gifts him with a stare that could peel paint. Teru replies with a smile that could withstand a nuclear meltdown.

RITSU Alright, listen Hanazawa. I watch my brother very carefully. And ever since he started working with you, he's been more stressed out than ever. He's scratched himself hard enough to scar.

TERU I've been told that he's gotten better at that.

RITSU He shouldn't be working at your place. You need to fire him.

Teru studies Ritsu.

TERU ... You approached me to say this? Shouldn't you be convincing your brother to quit? Wouldn't that be easier?

RITSU Don't you think I've tried? He won't budge.

TERU Then why should I fire him? He's willing.

RITSU But he's not able! Surely you've noticed by now. My brother has... special needs.

A pause.

TERU I think your brother is perfectly capable of assessing his own limits.

RITSU And I think you just want to use him for your little scheme.

Teru's smile widens. He gets to his feet.

TERU Oh please, mon frére. None of my schemes have ever been little.

Teru exits.

Ritsu grits his teeth. Close up on his pained expression.

EXT. STREET - AFTERNOON

12 years ago.

Same shot of Ritsu's pained expression, now a 9 year old kid. He's got a cut on his head. It's bleeding profusely. He's watching a 10 year old Mob, currently in the middle of a meltdown.

RITSU Nii-san... Stop...

Mob is throwing rocks and beer bottles and whatever else he can get his hands on. He is screaming furiously and helplessly.

RITSU Please stop.

A bunch of older middle-school boys flee from him.

RITSU Stop!

Mob drags his hands down his arms. Scratching heavily. He curls into a ball.

A shot of Ritsu, squeezing his eyes shut.

INT. CAFE - AFTERNOON

Close up on Ritsu, eyes squeezed shut. He runs a hand down his face. He breathes out.

A pause.

He looks out the cafe window. He blinks. He sits up.

Pan over. Seen from Ritsu's point of view, Teru exits the cafe and dashes over to Mob, waiting across the street. They walk away together. Mob has his usual blank expression but he nods occassionally.

RITSU Nii-san... What are you up to?

INT. TERU'S WORKSHOP - MONTAGE

Mob and Teru bent over the drafting table. Teru presents some fabric swatches. Mob feels each one, giving feedback. Teru listens very carefully.

A dressform. A shirt mockup pinned to it. Mob attaches a sleeve. He looks back at Teru and gets a thumbs up.

Mob runs his fingers over a swatch of fabric. He takes in the dressform with its mostly assembled outfit. Teru approaches from behind, carrying two cups of tea. Mob accepts his. They both turn to look at the dressform.

Close up on the outfit. It's an elegant piece, made of soft material with no visible seams. It has a low-hemline, with long sleeves and a loose turtleneck collar. A blazer is draped on top and pair of loose, square cut pants. It looks appropriate for the office or a night out.

TERU I think we did a pretty good job.

Mob nods. A pleased smile.

INT. BACKSTAGE - EVENING

Chaos. Well-ordered chaos. Models are putting on their clothes, getting their make up done, being fussed over by Reigen. They all start lining up, ready for the runway.

Behind a dressing screen. Only Teru's and Mob's shadows can be seen. Teru is helping Mob put on the outfit they made.

TERU You can back out right now. I don't mind. I've treated you badly and I'd deserve it if you -

MOB I don't care about that. Not right now, at least.

TERU You're right. You're absolutely right. This is all about you. Mob, what do you want?

MOB I want to do this. I can.

TERU You can. You practiced. We did that dress rehearsal. This is your style. Own it.

A pause. Mob's shadow looks at Teru's.

MOB No more running.

TERU No more running. Now we strut.

Reigen rushes over. He's tapping at his watch.

REIGEN Teruki! Showtime!

INT. STAGE - EVENING

It's a packed room. People are seated on 3 sides of the catwalk. Bright lights render them all faceless. Lots of indistinct chatter.

Close up on the Cryptids. They're all seated together. Pan over to Mezato, seated off to the side.

Close up on Mr. and Mrs. Kageyama seated with Ritsu. They have a front row view. Mrs. Kageyama holds onto both her husband's and son's hands.

Teru walks on. Everyone hushes.

TERU Hello, everyone. Thank you for coming tonight. This collection gave me the hardest time. I had an artistic block. And then someone wise - much wiser than me - gave me a push in the right direction. I'd like to say this is my night. But it's not. My collaborator is the true heart and soul of this show. He focused on clothing for those with sensory issues. He forced me to think outside of my usual parameters. And if I am very lucky, I hope to continue working with him for a long, long time. (beat) Now you didn't come here for me to monologue at you. Let's start the show.

Teru steps off the stage. The models start walking out. The music is lively. The clothes are beautiful. Everyone murmurs appreciatively with each new piece. The music changes. The lights dim.

INT. BACKSTAGE - EVENING

REIGEN Alright, Mobbu. It's your turn.

Reigen turns around. Mob is out of the shot. But Reigen clearly likes what he sees.

REIGEN Go get 'em, kiddo.

INT. STAGE - EVENING

Mob walks on. He's wearing that elegant outfit. He looks confident. His shoulders are squared. His chin is lifted. He steps with grace and care and just that touch of attitude. At the catwalk's end, he strikes a simple pose - hands loose and free at his sides. His usual neutral expression shifts to allow a small smirk. Then he spins around and walks back down.

The Cryptids cheer wildly. The Kageyamas cheer wildly. The rest of the crowd follow their example. There's roaring applause.

The music quiets. The crowd slowly stops clapping. Teru retakes the stage.

TERU Please give it up for my excellent collaborator! Shigeo Kageyama!

A beat. The crowd claps. No one comes out. Teru glances over his shoulder.

Mob gets visibly pushed back on stage. He almost stumbles but manages to hide it by taking a wide step. He repeats his walk down to Teru, no less confident. A wide grin now obvious on his face.

The two face the crowd. They bow. Cheers fill the room.

THE END.

[maple-leafing]

The Aftermath (Sidney Crosby x Reader)

Request: I don’t know if you’re taking requests or not but can you please write a Sidney Crosby imagine that’s sort of a spin off to the blurb you just published about him?? Like maybe it’s set months later and they run into each other?

Player: Sidney Crosby

Team: Pittsburgh Penguins

Word Count: 1926 (Hopefully long enough to make up for inactivity)

Disclaimer: I mean no disrespect to the players that I am writing for and everything is purely fictional. None of the gifs I use are my own.

A/n: Sorry it’s been so long, but I posted, as promised!! Also I apologize for any mistakes, I’m super tired and currently half asleep.  Let me know if you want a part two. I think there’s some unfinished business that needs to be sorted! ❤️

***Based off of this blurb***

It’d been a year since Sidney Crosby had broken up with you in March 2017. Now he was a three time Stanley cup champion heading on his way to a possible fourth. A possible three peat.

You’d gotten a job down in Philadelphia working for the flyers as one of the head physiotherapists. If Sid knew, he probably would have freaked. When they offered you the job a couple weeks before your break up, you weren’t going to take it. But with Sid out of your life, you had nobody holding you back. You were prepared to give up your dream job for him, but he wasn’t prepared to commit to you.

“I loved you.” He said. “Past tense.”

You couldn’t believe his words. “So we’re over then?”

“Yeah.” He spoke. “We’re over.”

You ran that scene through your mind a multitude of times. Whenever you missed him you thought about how he’d fallen out of love with you. Maybe it was better that he broke things off. Yes, you loved him with all of your being. You were in love with him and maybe you still might be, but it might have been better that he told you, sooner, rather than later.

The Flyers and the Penguins were meeting up once again in the playoffs, the series being led by your ex’s team 2-1. So far you’d managed not to run into him, dodging him any chance you got. You’d seen him around the PPG Paints arena a couple of times, but completely avoided him when the boys came home for game 3.

You remembered game 3 of the 2015-16 playoffs first round when Sidney had won his second cup and the first of his back to back victories. You were happy then, the happiest you’d ever been. The win after game 3 against the rangers in New York had been a particularly good night. It was the first time Sidney had told you that he loved you.

He didn’t know if it was the elation from winning, or the New York atmosphere, but he couldn’t help but scream how much he loved you. As you stood on the balcony of the hotel room you’d been staying at, Sidney right next to you, he surprised you by letting out a yell of your name.

“I love you.” He took a breath to yell even louder. “I love you (Y/n) (L/n).”

Shocked, you let out a breath of happiness and relief. “You love me huh?”

“And I want the whole damn world to know it.”

Just knowing he was so close brought memories back that you had hidden away for the past year, memories you didn’t want to remember. Sid was the love of your life and you didn’t think you’d ever find anyone that could compare to the way your heart lit on fire when you were around him. The world stopped and your senses reached a new high, everything feeling like you were experiencing it for the first time. His love was like magic, and yet, you didn’t want to remember.

You heard a knock on your office door that snapped you out of the trance you’d been in. You hadn’t realized how close you’d actually been to crying. “Hey doc, you alright?” Doc, you smiled slightly at the use of the nickname the young kids on the team had given you.

Looking up, you saw Nolan staring straight at you. “Mmm, I’m fine Nolan. Is there something you need me to check out before game 4?” You asked quietly, trying to change the subject.

“Not really, I just wanted to see how you were doing. You weren’t at practice this morning.” You swallowed nervously dropping your eye contact with the young flyer. You’d avoided going because of the shared ice time with the players on the Penguins, due to the time slot being ‘optional.’ It didn’t matter whether it was optional or not, you knew Sidney would have been there, taking the time to improve his game and catch up with some of the guys he didn’t get to see as often due to them being in Philly, and you just weren’t ready for that.

“I was, uh, I was just feeling a little under the weather.” You replied, putting a smile onto your face. “Everything is fine now Nolan. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Oh I know I don’t have to worry,” he smiled cheekily, “but as one of my favourite people on this planet, it is my job to worry about you.” He’d had a point. Since the beginning of the season, what with both of you being new to the organization, he’d become like the little brother you never knew you needed.

“Does this have anything to do with seeing Crosby again?” You watched as his blue eyes twinkled in amusement, the smirk on his face growing more cheeky by the second.

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m over him.” You lied. “I may be about the only person on the planet who doesn’t want to talk to the all and powerful Sidney Crosby, but honestly, seeing him is about the last thing I want to do right now.”

“You are so not over him.” Nolan teased. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re still in love with him.” You knew he was only teasing, but his words resonated with you. All of them were true: you were still deeply and madly in love with Sidney Crosby.

Your conversation with Nolan ended on that note as duty called. The game was less than 2 hours away and he needed to be ready. This left you without work for the next chunk of time so you began to meander through the restricted halls of the Wells Fargo Centre. Your mind kept going back to all the times you spent with Sid. It was like him being so close to you was forcing you to try and remember all that you were missing. It was if your mind was forcing you to suffer through the pain you avoided confronting for the past year, as if you were subconsciously preparing yourself for seeing him again. You had no clue what that would do to you. Would you break down? Would you stand bravely and act as if nothing had happened, as if you were okay? Would you be able to control yourself?

As these questions whirrled around in your head, you hadn’t quite realized where you’d wandered off to. Your head was down, eyes peeled on the floor where your shoes could be seen. You paused, dazed and looked up only for a spilt second. Bumping into someone, you suddenly found yourself on the ground, apologizing profusely for coming into contact with the mystery person.

“I’m so sorry.” The man spoke in a rushed tone as he reached his hand towards yours to lift you up.

“No no, it’s alright.” You said as you regained your balance on your feet. “I wasn’t really paying attention to where I was going. My mind was else where.” You smiled still not having recognized the broad shouldered stranger.

“I know what you mean,” he laughed, “happens to me all the time when I prepare for games. Have to get in my own head space you know?” That laugh was what set off the ticking time bomb in your mind. Phil Kessel. Now that you got a good look at him, under the lighting of the poorly lit hallway, you knew it was him.

Of course Phil knew who you were, having been around him almost everyday for over a year. You’d been with Sid longer than Phil had been in Pittsburgh but that didn’t seem to matter at the moment. You’d also known Phil from his days playing in Toronto, bumping into him when you were home visiting family. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t recognize you.

“(Y/n)?” His eyes widened as you ducked your head down. You gave him a sheepish smile confirming his suspicions.

“Hi Phil.” You waved, your tone small and quiet. Phil could tell you were uncomfortable based on the body language you were giving him.

“What are you doing here?” He asked giving you a reassuring smile. “It’s been a long time. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I just want to talk a bit, that’s all.”

“Um, actually, I work here. I have been for the past year.” You watched as his brows raised in surprise.

“Does Sid know about this?” He asked, his voice barley above a whisper.

“No.” You spoke back, “and I’d really like to keep it that way. He’d try to tell me that I couldn’t work here just because I used to date him, that’d it’d hurt his reputation in some way. I’m sorry,” you paused, “but he broke up with me and I’m not just about to give up my dream job because he wants to throw a temper tantrum.”

Phil smiled happily, his grin widening on his jolly face. “I wasn’t going to say a word.” His eyes crinkled slightly as he talked. “You know, I’ve really missed having you around, the whole team has, especially him. I know he really regrets ever letting you go.”

“Then why’d he do it?” You questioned, suddenly piqued by his comment.

“Because he didn’t want you waiting on him hand and foot, living a life where it seems that hockey would always come first.” Phil’s lips met in a straight line. “I just think he didn’t want you giving up your life waiting for him so that you could start a life together. You were always more important to him than hockey, and that’s part of the reason why he couldn’t let you stay.”

You turned as you heard a voice call out Phil’s name. “Anyway, I gotta go (Y/n/n). Can we maybe talk later?”

You nodded as he turned to walk away from you. “Hey Kessel,” you called, “I missed you too.”

“That’s cheating!” Phil whined as you scored against him for the eighth time. “No one is allowed to beat me at air hockey.”

“Sorry Kes. Guess I must just have your number tonight.” You gave him a smirk and your famous puppy dog eyes. “Besides, how could you resist giving me what I want?”

“I know I couldn’t.” You giggled as your boyfriend wrapped his arms around your waist and placed his lips on your neck, nudging his head into your hair.

“Oh stop being so disgusting and go get a damn room Crosby.” Phil pouted mockingly as Sidney continued to give what felt like an endless amount of PDA.

Standing back in your office, your mind was snapped back to attention by the sudden ring of your cellphone. Pulling it out, a number and I name you hadn’t called in over a year appeared on your screen. You contemplated not answering it. Pressing the button that says, ‘remind me later,’ you lowered your phone down, your hands shaking slightly.

Your phone went off again, the rings only sounding louder and louder, the name Sidney Crosby making the screen look even brighter than you knew possible. You didn’t answer it for a second time.

By the fourth call, you finally had it in you to swipe the screen to answer the call. You didn’t speak, waiting for the man on the other line to say something first. “Hey.” His voice sent chills down your spine. Did Phil tell him? Did he know that you were here? The next words that came out of his mouth, confirmed at least one of the two questions that ran through your jumbled mind.

“We need to talk.”

[michaelandy101-blog]

15 Artistic Examples of Branded Pop-Up Outlets

New Post has been published on http://tiptopreview.com/15-creative-examples-of-branded-pop-up-shops/

15 Artistic Examples of Branded Pop-Up Outlets

Shoppers love the lure of exclusivity, and types love the unrivaled alternative for experimentation.

Pop-Up Store Concepts

Your targets will dictate the kind of pop-up expertise you need to create and the way you will implement it.

1. Short-term Retail Area

If you happen to’re transitioning your online business from online to brick-and-mortar, a pop-up store is a solution to simulate the retail expertise and acquire invaluable insights into concerns similar to operations and demand… with out the danger of dedication and overhead.

2. One-Time Occasion

Even should you’re not testing the native retail market, an event-style pop-up the place the press and public can attend can generate a ton of buzz in your model. By leveraging the exclusivity of the event, you should utilize the occasion to pique curiosity. Make it a celebration!

three. Immersive Expertise

A bodily house provides you the chance for patrons to see, really feel, and expertise your model. With that in thoughts, you should utilize your pop-up store to offer a singular, immersive surroundings. That may imply interactive shows or different sudden bodily components that add a wow issue.

Learn how to Do a Pop-Up Store

It is an enterprise to drag off a profitable pop-up, requiring a variety of planning, scouting, and marketing main as much as a launch. Listed below are the primary steps you will need to take into account as you arrange:

1. Consider your targets and choose a theme.

Are you testing the marketplace for a extra everlasting location? Or are you producing buzz? Figuring out your targets will make it easier to decide what sort of house to search for, what sort of pop-up store to run (see above), what provides to buy, and tips on how to market and function it.

2. Scout for a location.

As a result of your pop-up is non permanent (to begin, anyway), you do not get pleasure from word-of-mouth or model/location recognition. Which means you will want to decide on a location with loads of foot site visitors to maximise your impression. This consideration, in fact, must be balanced with the price of renting the house and the provision of a short-term lease.

Good locations to contemplate embrace:

Out of doors stands or kiosks

Empty storefronts

Artwork or gallery areas

Market or tradeshow cubicles

It’s also possible to use providers similar to Peerspace or We Are Pop Up to scout areas.

three. Store for fixtures and provides.

As soon as the place you are organising store and the way lengthy you will be there, you possibly can plan your house. This consists of buying fixtures similar to shelving in addition to any provides/decor to drag off your theme.

four. Plan the launch and opening.

As a result of your pop-up is a fleeting expertise, you do not get the good thing about long-term clientele constructing. Its success hinges on the marketing main as much as the launch (extra on that later) in addition to the momentum earned on that day. For that reason, you will need to give your self sufficient lead time earlier than the opening to generate curiosity and in addition create an expertise that can get folks speaking.

four. Launch and luxuriate in.

Keep in mind, the aim of a pop-up store is connecting along with your prospects. Positive, it is all about your model, however your model is for them. Your intricate planning units the stage for an unimaginable expertise, however so does your interactions with them. Be ready to offer a stage of service that has your prospects spreading the phrase, coming again, and remembering your model as soon as you’ve got gone.

5. Analyze and decide what went properly.

Check out the foot site visitors you bought, the gross sales you made, the income you generated, and the social media engagement you obtained.

What labored, and what did not? What was your ROI? Is it value opening a everlasting store or repeating the expertise elsewhere? What would you do in another way?

Pop-Up Advertising

1. Do not be afraid to do PR.

The media will be your friend in getting the word out. Reach out to local publications to see if you can earn a feature and draft a press release to see if you can earn coverage. It may even be worthwhile to send exclusive invites to a few journalists for the date of your launch.

2. Reach out to local influencers and bloggers.

Influencers and bloggers might have smaller attain than conventional media retailers, however their followings will seemingly be extremely focused and engaged. Learn the way a lot promotion could be, and do not be afraid to supply perks!

three. Create an occasion on Fb.

Promote to your present Fb followers by making a Fb occasion and alluring them. This may unfold consciousness to your present followers and enhance the attain of your pop-up marketing efforts.

four. Promote on Fb.

Fb has superior concentrating on choices for viewers sort and geographical space, making it a super channel to unfold the phrase to prospects who do not know you but. Learn extra about tips on how to create a Fb advert.

5. E mail your database.

Faucet into your present buyer base and allow them to find out about your pop-up with e mail marketing. Your marketing campaign might be much more profitable should you can section your database and goal your prospects within the space.

6. Leverage unsolicited mail.

Probably the greatest methods to advertise an area occasion is thru unsolicited mail campaigns to residents within the nearest zip codes. Mailers operate as invitations to most of the people. You may additionally be capable to push the promotions you are operating.

7. Generate buzz and FOMO with promotions.

FOMO (worry of lacking out) can inspire patrons to point out up and interact. You’ll be able to faucet into this with thrilling promotional methods similar to contests, freebies, reductions, and door-buster offers.

eight. Put out signage.

Signage will make it easier to get the eye of close by foot site visitors, so spend money on flyers, banners, and window clings which might be engaging and catch the eyes of passers-by.

To encourage your subsequent branded expertise, we have curated a listing of those modern and visually gorgeous pop-up occasions.

15 Examples of Subsequent-Degree Pop-Up Occasions

1. COS Los Angeles

Experimental structure agency Snarkitecture was impressed by mirrored surfaces and easy silhouettes when designing this non permanent retail house for LA-based trend label COS. The oldsters at Snarkitecture reworked an empty industrial house into two equivalent, monochromatic rooms — one white and one pale pink — leaving the concentrate on two racks of minimal clothes. The mirrored house “creates an unexpected and altered world for visitors to experience and share.“

Picture Credit score: Snarkitecture

2. BarkShop Reside

Should not your canine be capable to store for his personal toys? Bark & Co, the ecommerce firm behind BarkBox, definitely thinks so. For one week in June 2016, the dog-centric retailer set up shop in Manhattan, inviting canines and their house owners to check out their squeaky, bouncy, and chewy choices in-person. The fortunate pups in attendance have been fitted with RFID-enabled vests, which tracked the toys they performed with probably the most. Homeowners have been then capable of view and buy their canines’ favourite playthings immediately from the occasion’s customized cellular app.

Video from Digiday

three. Glossier Summer time Fridays Showroom

In Summer time 2015, online make-up and skincare model Glossier styled a flooring of its Manhattan headquarters as a short lived retail showroom — the closest factor to moving into its superbly curated Instagram feed. The house provided Glossier merchandise on the market, however as founder Emily Weiss defined, promoting tubes of moisturizer and lip balm wasn’t essentially the pop-up’s prime precedence. “It’s not really just a store,” Weiss stated in an interview with Racked. “It’s almost like this is a giant mood board for the company we’re hoping to build.”

Created beneath the route of set designer Marguerite Wade, the penthouse featured customized floral preparations by Meta Flora and an set up by multi-media artist Grace Villamil.

Picture Credit score: Glossier

four. Quick Meals Help

Artistic administrators Ikkyu and Junya Sato of Kaibutsu design studio seen that younger adults in Harajuku had a severe quick meals downside — they usually determined to do one thing about it. To advertise natural meals chain Dohtonbori, they launched Quick Meals Help, a pharmacy-inspired vitamin pop-up that provides a collection of well being dietary supplements geared toward junk meals lovers. And all it would price you is a receipt from a quick meals place.

After a responsible indulgence, alternate your receipt for a custom-made bottle of dietary supplements that can replenish the vitamins missed at your final meal. Every canister is geared toward a specific junk meals — ramen, pizza, hamburger, and many others., — to ensure your system will get what it wants.

Though Dohtonbori is not truly promoting something for revenue on the store, its been capable of educate guests about well being and wellness, hopefully driving them to go for more healthy meals choices sooner or later — like Dohtonbori’s personal restaurant.

Picture Credit score: Quick Meals Help

5. Pantone Café

What does colour style like? If anybody is aware of the reply to that query, it is Pantone. The world’s most well-known colour firm has been operating a pop-up café in Monaco for the previous two summers, promoting a minimal menu of pastries, lunch choices, coffees, and recent juices — all branded with Pantone’s signature colour swatches.

So does this imply Pantone is completely branching out into delicacies? Not fairly. The seasonal eatery is ideal Instagram-bait, and it has efficiently generated a ton of buzz within the press. It is an ideal instance of a pop-up occasion enabling an organization to take inventive dangers with its model by stepping outdoors of its typical enterprise mannequin.

Picture Credit score: Pantone Café

6. Actual Life At Work

To supply passersby a glimpse into its world, London-based advert company Wieden+Kennedy invited graphic artist Emily Forgot to rework the entrance window of its workplace into an imaginative, cartoon-inspired pop-up workspace. Utilizing exaggerated monochrome imagery, Forgot crafted a whimsical workplace scene from paper, full with a typewriter and a clock that ran backward.

For a number of weeks, actual company staff took turns “working” within the window. The entire thing was then broadcast dwell by way of webcam on the company’s web site for anybody who was curious sufficient to look at. The pop-up was a singular method for W+Ok to shrug off the stereotype of the advert company that takes itself too severely — plus it was a inventive likelihood for the staff to interact with the group.

Picture Credit score: Wieden + Kennedy London

7. Früt

How do you make cheap, packaged underwear enchantment to high-end shoppers? Simply create a “luxury” lingerie pop-up with a pretend, fancy-sounding title. CP+B Boulder helped shopper Fruit of the Loom open up an deliberately pretentious and ludicrously over-priced boutique for its underwear, full with colourful intimates hanging from over-the-top tree shows. Früt offered solely Fruit of the Loom undergarments, however consumers who often would not deign to purchase the model have been lured in by the high-end guise.

Picture Credit score: Wieden+Kennedy London

eight. Natural Valley Espresso Store

In a intelligent shot aimed on the artisanal espresso motion, inventive branding company Humanaut opened up a pop-up cafe to advertise its shopper Organic Valley’s new espresso creamer. The non permanent Manhattan storefront adhered to the entire typical hipster tropes — a minimal brand that includes arrows and X’s, fashionable glass mugs, and stylish sizes — Lil Bit, Double, and Lotta. They usually forged an actual Natural Valley farmer because the store’s folksy proprietor.

There was one catch: The store solely offered measured parts of half-and-half. You ordered your creamer on the counter from a barista and added your espresso individually. The spoof was a significant success. Unperturbed by the irony, New Yorkers lined as much as order pictures of plain cream for $2 a pop. “No one had a problem paying $2 for a pour of organic half-and-half,” said Humanaut’s inventive chief David Littlejohn. “In the end, the idea wasn’t as crazy as we thought it was.”

Video Credit score: Organic Valley

9. 5-Minute Internship

Solve, a Minneapolis-based inventive company, needed to re-vamp its summer season intern hiring course of to draw recruits who can actually suppose on their toes. So naturally, they created a conveyable, small-scale duplicate of their workplace — full with a receptionist-staffed micro foyer — and set off on an epic college-campus street journey.

College students at collaborating campuses got a 5-minute problem based mostly on their space of curiosity — and people who carried out one of the best have been invited to interview on the spot. The pop-up occasion tripled the amount of applications the agency received to its internship position.

Picture Credit score: Adweek

10. The Image Home

Capitalizing on the Instagram meals images craze, Birdseye opened up a short lived restaurant in London the place diners might settle their invoice with an Instagram put up — all they needed to do was take a snap of their meal and add the hashtag #BirdsEyeInspirations. The occasion was a inventive social media experiment that helped generate free publicity for the frozen meals firm’s Inspirations line of merchandise. Branding company Slice was behind the world’s first pay-by-picture pop up.

Picture Credit score: Slice

11. The Interval Store

For one weekend, Kotex launched a pop-up in New York geared toward assuaging negativity and spreading love for girls throughout their durations. The shop, which was developed by advert company Organic, featured ice cream, manicures, chocolate, comfortable clothes, and Kotex U merchandise on the market. Girls have been invited to browse the brightly coloured choices and share their experiences. And it was all for a superb trigger, too. Proceeds have been donated to a girls’s homeless shelter.

Picture Credit score: Adweek

12. Birchbox’s Tour

Pop-ups give online retailers the possibility to point out off their items in particular person, work together immediately with their followers, and take their model to the following stage. Birchbox — which sells subscription bins of curated magnificence merchandise — went on a national tour in 2015, opening up non permanent brick-and-mortar shops in a number of cities. Along with promoting magnificence merchandise, they provided manicures and astrology readings to entice beauty-lovers inside.

Picture Credit score: Racked LA

13. Fendi Spring/Summer time 2016 Flower Store

The cellular flower store that botanical designer Azuma Makoto created for Fendi is proof that not all pop-ups should be giant scale productions. The artist adorned a three-wheeled Italian automobile with an intricate floral show and outfitted the facet of the truck as an open storefront. The seller/driver offered restricted version Fendi baggage and vases of Makoto’s floral preparations to advertise the style label’s 2016 Spring/Summer time assortment.

Picture Credit score: My Modern Met

14. Arnsdorf

What’s a designer to do after they’re going through a decent price range? Experiment with inventive supplies. This pop-up retail house for Australian clothier Arnsdorf was created through the use of 154 pairs of neutral-colored pantyhose, and the impact is otherworldly.

Picture Credit score: Fast Company

15. The Poundshop

This design collective is a recurring pop-up platform for artists to supply their items for reasonably priced costs. “The aim of The Poundshop is to spread design to a wider audience by making it accessible through price and engagement,” the website explains.

The pop-up retailers are simply as visually attention-grabbing because the artwork they promote.

Picture Credit score: The Poundshop

With a bit planning and a variety of preparation, you may make a splash with a pop-up that delights your prospects and spreads curiosity in your model. 

Editor’s observe: This put up was initially revealed in July 2018 and has been up to date for comprehensiveness.

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[axemetaphor]

Some Writing

I have little idea if this readmore will work because i'm on mobile but!!! I'm trying.

I wrote a bit of a something for my new fan character Unknown the Raccoon/Hedgehog [usually just called Unknown]; it starts right after they lost their memories and ends with them meeting Sonic. Kinda based on Forces (since that's what motivated me to even make Unknown!) but since ive been avoiding all spoilers it's probably not accurate lolol

Anyways—

Rating E10+

Contains mild injury, violence, and light swearing.

A hazy greenish-blue sky slowly comes into focus, partially obscured by the walls of tall buildings that rise far above their head, stretching up into the sky to brush against the clouds; the sun shines down brightly, harshly, and their whole body feels hot. 'How long have I been out here?' They wonder. They try to lift their arm, but it feels heavy, their movements sluggish. Their head aches, a dull ringing echoing in their ears, and the moment they try to twist their neck agony spears through their skull.

"Ow!" They yelp involuntarily, wincing and squeezing their eyes shut. "Oh, jeez, that hurts..." Slowly, they try to sit up, using their arms to both lift and support them. They're lying on something soft, squishy in places, covered in plastic. It feels like a lot of stuff with varying degrees of softness all wrapped in one very sturdy plastic wrap. It crinkles a bit when they move, a gentler sound than cellophane, but unpleasant nonetheless. Their eyes ease open again, and the sunlight seems slightly less harsh now. For a moment, they sit, blinking and looking around with wide green eyes. They're sat in an alleyway, in an open Dumpster practically overflowing with black trash bags. The alley itself is devoid of life, and the streets beyond it seem similarly abandoned. 'What's going on? Why am I the only one here?' Turning this way and that, they search for a clue. Finding none, they sigh, hopping down from the Dumpster, and their boots thud loudly against the concrete upon contact. Straightening up, they brush themselves off, feeling a little grimy. The walls ahead of them look equally dingy, rather run-down. 'Which way do I go?' They frown, squinting first one way, then the other. "Six of one, half-dozen of the other," they mumble, but then something catches their eye. There's a couple flyers tacked onto the walls to their left; curious, they turn that way and cautiously approach them. The city has the air of a place that really should be more busy than this—the silence is so obviously unnatural. Their boots thump with each step, the only sound heard at all. No birds, no insects dare make any noise, but why? They pause, reading the flyers, which they now realize are tacked on to the windows of what was—is?—a store, presumably. Distracting themselves for a minute, they peer into the store. Racks of clothes sit in a relatively orderly arrangement, but the shop itself is devoid of life. Their eyes slowly focus on their reflection rather than the contents of the store, and their ears prick in surprise. Leaning forward, they gently place a hand on their cheek, as if to make certain that that's their reflection.

Fluffy blueish-grey fur covers their entire body, with paler whitish fur outlining their eyes and the inside of their ears—which bear three piercings: two rings towards the tip of their ears, and one gauge piercing at the base—and covering their muzzle. Deep blue—almost black!—fur rings their eyes, with one little patch on their forehead and two stripes down their cheeks. Just beneath their chin, a plume of thick, fluffy, bright pale green fur covers their chest and neck. There's a rather tattered black rain jacket hanging from their shoulders, one sleeve half-ripped-off and the other completely absent. Form-fitting black jeans cover their legs, and are in a similar level of dishevelment. The only thing that remained intact was the studded belt wrapped around their waist, which bears two chains dangling off of it. Their gaze drifts back up to their face again, and they notice dried blood practically caked to their upper lip and around their nose; there's a dried smear of blood on one of their ears, too, right beneath one of the ring piercings. The thought 'oh, that must be the newest one' drifts through their head unbidden as they stare in mild confusion at their face. Somehow, everything about this is so unfamiliar... but how? This is their face, isn't it? So why doesn't it feel right? And how come they don't remember their name?

They close their eyes and shake their head, letting their hand drop back down to their side. "What the hell happened to me?" They think aloud, looking back at their reflection. Taking a step back, they tilt their head from side to side, checking out their spines. All are brushed to curve towards one side—their left—and the two on their right have a bit more curl in them than the ones on the left. Their gaze drifts down again, admiring their black combat boots. Flexing their foot, they realize the shoe has a steel toe, stained with blood. "Whatever it was, I guess I went down fighting." They laugh shortly, smirking, and look back up. Something else catches their attention now, a paper flapping in the wind, trying vainly to escape and flutter down the street. They reach up, gently smoothing it down with a hand, and examine it more closely. The top of the paper has the word "wanted" printed in all-caps, boldface, large font. Their eyes skim the page, automatically focusing on the chunk of text nearer to the bottom—several bullet points read "Name: Unknown. Age: Estimated 18 or 19. Height: 3'6" Reward: 100,000,000 rings," then several phone numbers. Their gaze drifts back up, and their eyes widen when they see the image accompanying this Wanted poster. Their eyes snap from the image, to their reflection, back to the image, back to the reflection. There's no mistaking it. The face in the photo, grinning smugly at the viewer, is none other than their own!

Instinctively they tear the paper down and rush to shove it in their pocket, frantically glancing about even though the street is deserted. Turning all about, they look for copies of the poster; finding none, they relax slightly, and run a hand through their hair, jamming the other in their pocket. "'Unknown,' huh..." they mumble. "Doesn't clear much up, but I guess it works...for now." Looking up, they frown. "Bigger problem—where are all the people? ...And why do I keep talking to myself?"

--•~

After an awful lot of hard work, Unknown finally made it to the top of the tallest building they could find, and they sat on the edge of its roof, wheezing slightly as they looked out at the city sprawling beneath them. The sky is still a cheery light blue above them, but they can see that, far ahead of them, a dark reddish-black cloud hangs over part of the city. A large part, too, and it's spreading. Some parts of the city are on fire, the smoke already darkening the sky, and something in Unknown's gut twists. No wonder the city is silent—it must have been evacuated. 'Guess nobody was checking the Dumpsters, though… or they thought I was dead.' Swinging their legs slightly, Unknown looks up, thinking carefully. The sky above is deceptively calm, unnervingly so—not even a bird dares disturb it. Looking back down at the dark part of the city, Unknown narrows their eyes, focusing intently. They can see, amongst the smog, some weird, slow-moving shapes that tower over the buildings. 'What on earth is going on over there?' Standing up, they swish their tail back and forth, mulling over their options. Either they run away from all the dark fiery stuff, and hope they can find where the city evacuated to, or they take their chances and head for all the chaos, because, well, why not? What even are the chances that they'd find the evacuees?

A strange curiosity consumes them, and they find their eyes drifting back to the hulking shapes almost crawling through the buildings. "I have to know what's going on over there," they think aloud, standing up. Turning around, they head for the opposite edge of the roof, then turn back around. Their eyes catch sight of a power line running from a building to the left of the one they're currently down into the sea of rooftops beneath them. Crouching down a bit, they brace themselves, take a deep breath, then sprint for the corner of the roof. Springing off it, they spin their arms a bit like a windmill, slowing them down slightly; reaching out, they grab hold of the power line, feeling it bend beneath their weight. Wrapping both hands around it, they twist their body to face the same direction as the wire leads, putting their feet in front of them. The wind roars through their ears as they slide down, squinting against the force of the air. After a short bit, they feel their grips start to weaken, arms shaking from the force of holding them still, and they crane their neck, looking for a good place to land. Right as the wire passes over a rooftop below, they let go, flailing a little; right before they hit the ground, they tuck into a roll, and somersault right up to the edge of the roof.

Without missing a beat, they spring to their feet, launching themselves off the roof to collide with the wall of a building adjacent to it. Scrabbling for a handhold, they fall a few inches before their fingers wrap around a windowsill. Hauling themselves up halfway, Unknown looks around for another place to go; spotting a decorative grate on a skyscraper across the street, they grin, then fling themselves from the windowsill. The wind screams in their ears again as they sail through the air, plummeting at an alarming rate until they collide with the grate several meters below where they were on the windowsill. The raccoon-hedgehog takes a moment to steady themselves, panting slightly, before beginning to claw their way up the grating towards the top of the building. After maybe five minutes, they can feel their arms start to burn and ache; pausing, they twist and turn, looking for a new place to go. To their left, a bit below them, is a balcony jutting out from a floor of the building. It has some potted trees and bushes almost directly beneath them, and after a moment's consideration, they casually let go of the grate, falling right into a bush. Rolling straight out of it, they brush themselves off, then dash for the opposite edge, hopping up onto the banister then springing off again; their feet collide with a roof below, and they fall into the landing, crouching down with their palms flat on the floor.

Unknown looks up, eyes searching the horizon as they get to their feet, blinking a few times. The red darkness is still pretty far away, but they can faintly smell its smoke now. Flicking an ear, they stretch briefly, trotting forward. 'Now what?' They ask themselves, looking around. To their left is a taller building with many, many windows and a rail branching off its roof, arcing down further into the city, maybe even directly to where they want to go; directly ahead, there's a shorter donut shop with a massive sculpted donut on top of it; on the right sits an apartment complex with a lot of balconies. The weirdly placed rail draws Unknown's attention, and they casually look down at their boots. "They're no SOAP shoes, but maybe they'll work..." The raccoon-hog muses aloud, heading towards their left. After a step or two, they break into a jog, then a sprint, dashing as fast as they can before vaulting up onto the lip of the roof and springing right off it. As they sail towards the building, their blurry reflection comes into focus in the windows, a grinning face with feet outstretched to take the brunt of the impact. The glass shatters so easily, thin sheets not meant for the force of a body or bullets, and they drop into a shoulder roll across the razor-sharp shards. Luckily their fur is so thick; they spring up, shake their fur out, and dash forward, hardly paying attention to their surroundings. This is an office building, with tons of cubicles all in the way, so Unknown hops up onto one of the desks then up onto the thin dividers and starts lunging from one to the other, headed for a set of elevators. Leaping off the last divider, they slam the "Up" button, then take a step back, breathing hard. The elevator whirrs softly, slowly growing louder as it approaches, until it lets out a gentle "ding!" and the doors open.

"Roof access...?" Unknown asks hopefully, ears perked, as they lean in and peer first one way, then the other, looking for the panel of buttons. Finding it, they step further into the elevator, wiggling the fingers of their right hand as they visually scan the controls, a grin lighting up their face as they spot one marked "R." Strutting all the way into the elevator, they press and hold the button, then step back and lean against the wall. The doors creak closed, and after a brief moment of stillness the elevator starts to ascend. Unknown leans back, crossing first their legs then their arms, looking at the ceiling. Their breathing relaxes to a normal pace, the pounding of their heart easing into a calm rhythm, just in time for the elevator to stop and let out another cheery "ding!" with the doors grinding open mere moments later. Immediately Unknown bounds forward, streaking towards the rail; hopping over a ventilation duct, they skid a slight bit before vaulting up onto the rail. Their boots collide with the rail, screeching loudly as the steel scrapes up against whatever metal the rail is made of. Wind rushes through their hair and that familiar feeling of weightlessness, like their stomach is lifting up into their ribcage. They pick up speed, and soon the city skyscrapers are a blur rushing past them, quickly darkening the further along they go. Looking up, Unknown realizes they're most definitely not under blue skies anymore; glancing back down, they spring off the railing a mere few yards before it ends, falling into another shoulder roll. Getting to their feet, the raccoon-hog pauses, looking first left then right.

Many of the buildings nearby are broken, crumbling and some are on fire. The sounds of chaos and destruction are much louder now, along with some very weird mechanical sounds. 'Is that coming from the huge robots I saw earlier?' Unknown wonders, looking up. A couple roofs over, they notice some smaller robots wandering around, almost like they're patrolling the area. Squinting, they try to make out just what's going on, too distracted to notice the robot creeping up behind them until—

"Look out!" Someone shouts, and a weight slams into Unknown. They yelp, tumbling head-over-heels with a stranger's arms wrapped around their shoulders. A gunshot is heard, then the sound of smashing metal, and the arms are lifted from them; scrabbling along the rooftop, Unknown scrambles to their feet, ending up in a slightly unsteady crouch with one hand pressed to the ground. Looking up, they see a somewhat-bruised blue hedgehog getting up a bit ahead of them. Without even missing a beat, he leaps up into the air, curling into a ball to smash through an air born robot. Before they can properly react, Unknown's head instinctively snaps around to see a different machine charging right for them. Letting out another yelp, they run off to their right, trying to escape it, but the machine isn't going to give up anytime soon. More are descending from the sky like metallic locusts, one thudding to the ground right in front of the sprinting raccoon-hog, who immediately drops into a sliding kick.

Surprisingly, they knock the robot right off its feet, and it detonates as the robot following Unknown mows right over it. Glancing over their shoulder, Unknown grins, an idea forming in their head; they begin to slow their pace, waiting for the robot to catch up a bit, before making a beeline right for a wall sticking up from the roof. Leaping up onto it, they take two steps upward before backflipping off of it to land behind their pursuer; their left leg lashes out, colliding with the robot and slamming it harshly into the wall. It collapses, and they land with a thump, turning immediately to see a different robot taking aim at them. 'Jesus, they never stop, do they?' Sprinting, they duck behind a ventilation duct, hearing bullets ping off of it, before they abruptly stop with a crash. Scrambling to stand, Unknown looks to see a bright pink hedgehog absolutely whaling on their former assailant. Paying little mind to that, they vault up over the ventilation duct, choosing to sprint towards their right. They see a red echidna punching straight through machine after machine, all surrounding him, and they tackle the nearest robot, surprising and distracting it. Unknown scrambles quickly to the top of its head, then springs off it just as two different machines shoot right at the raccoon-hog. They miss spectacularly; with an explosion the robot's head is gone, and Unknown lands neatly on top another robot to repeat the process. In no time, the robot's numbers dwindle drastically; Unknown leaps off the last robot's head just as the red echidna's fist collides with it, throwing it almost off the building. The raccoon-hog hits the ground a meter or so away from the red echidna, pulling themselves to their feet as the blue hedgehog and his friends all start to walk across the roof, headed for the center where Unknown and the echidna are.

Panting, Unknown pulls off their tattered jacket, slinging it over their shoulder. They've no clue why they didn't ditch it earlier, since it isn't useful at all, but at least they had a thin layer of protection, they suppose. Running a hand through their hair, they look over when the blue hedgehog calls out, "Not bad!" He grins broadly, stepping forward. The pink hedgehog and an orange fox follow him; the red echidna meanders off across the roof, looking like he's trying to find something.

"Who are you?" Intrigued, Unknown steps forward to meet the three halfway, and stares into the dark green eyes of their new friend. 'How is he not winded at all?' They wonder.

A mixture of surprise and confusion flashes across his face briefly before he smiles in a friendly manner and answers, "I'm Sonic! Sonic the Hedgehog." He extends a hand, and Unknown cautiously shakes it, a bit puzzled. "These are all of my friends," Letting go of Unknown's hand, the hedgehog takes a step back and gestures towards his company, pointing first at an orange fox. "That's Tails," The fox smiles and waves cheerfully. "That's Amy," a pink hedgehog holding an absolutely massive hammer steps forward with a smile.

"Pleased to meet you!" She interrupts Sonic to extend a hand to Unknown as well. They take it with a polite smile, still a little uncertain.

"That's Knuckles," Sonic continues, gesturing towards the red echidna, who turns at the mention of his name to wave casually. "And who are you?" Turning his focus back to Unknown, Sonic raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, uh—" they frantically think back to the flyer they found, "U-Unknown."

"Unknown?" Amy echoes, tipping her head to one side and looking perplexed.

"Yep," the raccoon-hog straightens up, feigning confidence and quickly changing the subject. "Hey, what's going on? What's up with all the robots and fire?"

"Oh, y'know, same ol' Robotnik stuff." To Unknown's surprise, Sonic shrugs it off. "We're gonna take care of it, don't worry."

"Uh—I—Can I help?" For a moment, they're caught off-guard by the nonchalance this colorful crew is displaying, but they've recovered as quickly as they can.

Sonic seems surprised for a moment, then grins broadly, looking around his group of friends. They all nod, smiling themselves, and the blue hedgehog turns back to Unknown. "Sure! Why not?"

[ntrending]

No jetpacks. Zero flying cars. Where is the future we were promised?

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/no-jetpacks-zero-flying-cars-where-is-the-future-we-were-promised/

No jetpacks. Zero flying cars. Where is the future we were promised?

Jetpacks and flying cars might seem more at home parked in the pages of sci-fi novels (and, uh, some magazines) than in your garage. In 1924, PopSci ­predicted that airborne autos were just 20 years away, but that wide-eyed optimism wasn’t without reason: Inventors have been tinkering their way toward revolutionary transit for more than a century. The Hyperloop’s ancestry starts in the 1870s. Cruise control debuted in the 1950s. The first air-car prototypes took flight in the same decade. And, in the ’60s, Bell Labs prototyped jet-­powered backpacks. These modes of future commuting are still navigating mass-market expectations: Is it safe? Reliable? Cheap? Here’s a realistic assessment of our people-moving dreams.

Flying cars

What’s the holdup?

The point of flying cars is convenience: to go up and over traffic instead of sitting in it. That means the craft’s propulsion technology must be powerful enough to soar, but also safe, quiet, and nimble enough to land in a suburban driveway.

While startups have developed clever flight schemes, none has found the happy medium between auto and airplane. Silicon Valley company Opener has a single-seater that takes off vertically using eight rotors, but the contraption has no wheels, which means it is more like a personal helicopter than a road-ready rover. Boston-area startup Terrafugia makes the Transition, a two-seat vehicle with folding wings. With its fins deployed, it can fly up to 400 miles at altitudes of 9,000 feet. But there’s a catch: In order to take off, you need a runway.

RELATED: The most exciting aerospace innovations of 2018

Even when the tech comes together, red tape could keep cars grounded. The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration and the Federal Aviation Administration have to clear flying autos. Michael Hirschberg, of the Vertical Flight Society engineering consortium, says approval is at least a decade away. Terrafugia is the closest to finishing its paperwork, and Opener has clearance in Canada only.

Concepts & prototypes

We may not have mass-market flying cars yet, but we’ve been working out the kinks for decades.

1949: Although the precursor to the FAA​­ certified Moulton Taylor’s Aerocar as safe to fly, it never entered production. Makes sense: The driver had to affix a propeller and 15-foot wings before taking flight.

2000: Paul Moller’s M400 Skycar figured prominently in our March 2000 magazine. The single-seat machine flew on the strength of four fans and could “take off from your backyard.” It still hasn’t landed.

2018: The Uber Air multi-rotor flyer vertically takes off and lands. The company aims to deploy fleets of air taxies in L.A. and Dallas in 2020, but the vehicles will be restricted to specific launch zones in the cities.

Promising technologies

1. Better batteries Flying cars need to run on electricity, lest their engine noise rattle suburbanites. But today’s best cells—such as the lithium-ion phosphate ones Terrafugia uses—have just 2 percent of the energy density of fuel. Most startups add more packs, but that loads weight onto things that need to hover. The leap for air sedans will be a battery tech called solid-state. Solids can take higher temps, and hotter batteries tote more energy. Trouble is, nobody’s made one that can hold a charge.

2. More power Vertical takeoff makes the most sense for airborne autos cars. However, using a single motor or engine to hoist a chassis plus passengers would devour ­energy. For its upcoming Nexus hybrid craft, Bell Aerosystems is borrowing an efficient liftoff scheme popularized by drones: quadrotors. In the setup, multiple props both share the load and help stabilize the craft. A planned air taxi from Uber will take off the same way, then cruise aloft fixed wings.

Hyperloop

What’s the holdup?

Hyperloop capsules zoom at the speed of sound along magnetic rails through underground pneumatic tubes. Or as Elon Musk tweeted during his 2013 unveiling: “A cross between a Concorde and a rail gun.”

Musk anticipated his ambitious idea would have a greater chance at success if several groups worked on it concurrently, so he made the project open-source. Also helpful: Versions of the requisite hardware were already out there. Electric motors will send the capsules down aluminum tracks, magnets will provide levitation, and bunches of conventional vacuum pumps will suck all the air out of Hyperloop tunnels to create a nigh-​­frictionless atmosphere.

The biggest physical challenge is digging the passageways, though it’s more a financial woe than a technical one. Musk’s venture for this grunt work, the Boring Company, quotes each mile of tunnel at $1 ­billion, but that might be a lowball: Consider that New York City spent $2.5 billion per mile to build its Second Avenue subway line.

Hyerloop projects have also had false starts. The Boring Company scrapped plans in West LA rather than chew through a legal dispute with locals. Yet some companies are optimistic. Hyperloop Transportation Technologies will break ground in China and the United Arab Emirates this year, and CEO Dirk Ahlborn is already talking launch dates. Ebullience is good, but we still haven’t seen so much as a test run.

Concepts & prototypes

The dream of zippy commutes through underground vacuum tubes is nearly 150 years old.

1870: Inventor Alfred Ely Beach earned a patent for his Pneumatic Transit tech, which got power from large fans at opposite ends of buried vacuum tubes. He secretly built a demo tunnel in New York City.

1970: The Tracked ­Hovercraft was supposed to cut the trip from London to Edinburgh to 90 minutes. Oscillating magnetic fields would have allowed the abandoned concept to zip at 100 mph or more.

2010: Max Schlienger’s Vectorr train floats along magnetic tracks, powered by air pressure from vacuum pumps. He’s got a one-sixth-scale model running through his Napa, California, vineyard.

Promising Technologies

1. Crafty levitation Hyperloops will float above the tracks via levitation schemes like Inductrack rails. Rather than relying on two sets of repelling magnets to lift a capsule, the setup arranges one group on the bottom of the train at right angles—a matrix called a Halbach array—and places wire coils in the rails. At low speeds, motors slide capsules along the track. At about 45 mph, an electromagnetic field between the car and coils forms, raising the train.

2. Real vibranium Regularly traveling at Mach 1 would cause many materials to buckle or crack. ­Instead, ­Hyper­loop Transportation Technologies covers its capsules in a patented composite it calls Vibranium. (Yes, just like the fictional ore that powers Wakanda in Black Panther.) Not only is the ­carbon-​­fiber-­​­based compound 10 times stronger than steel, it’s also one-fifth the weight. Plus, sensors laced throughout check structural integrity.

Jetpacks

What’s the holdup?

In 1958, Popular Science predicted humankind’s “age-old dream of flying like a bird…may be nearer than we think.” Within three decades, jetpack test pilot William Suitor hovered over the opening ceremony of the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics. Even so, our prediction was a bit overblown: Suitor’s moment of glory—bogged down by inefficiency and 120 pounds of kit—lasted 20 seconds.

Jetpacks have inched toward liftoff since Suitor’s stunt. His model used pressurized hydrogen peroxide for fuel, while today’s rocket suits rely on more-efficient kerosene or diesel to fly for 10 to 20 minutes. But ­modern crafts have made only marginal leaps on other issues. Being literal rockets, the packs are noisy; Suitor’s belt screeched at 130 decibels, and Jetpack Aviation’s current model is a slightly muffled 120 decibels. They’re heavy too. The machine Jetpack Aviation CEO David Mayman used to buzz the Statue of Liberty in 2015 is 85 pounds—better, but still crushingly large. And, even if your body can carry the weight, your wallet might collapse under the cost. Entry-level packs run around $250,000.

Concepts & prototypes

Getting jetpacks off the ground was the easy part. Keeping them aloft takes some work.

1958: The U.S. Army commissioned Project Grasshopper—a crude rocket belt—from Utah-based Thiokol Chemical Corporation. The device got one minute of flight from five canisters of nitrogen gas.

1961: Pilot Harold ­Graham zoomed to 112 feet wearing the Small Rocket Lift Device. Developed at Bell Aero­systems, the device’s propellant was stored in ­off-the-shelf air canisters.

2009: Raymond Li’s ­Jetlev-​­Flyer was the first water-​­powered pack to go on sale. The catch: The 30-pound rig was tethered via hose to a boat, which housed an engine to pump the water for thrust.

Promising technologies

1. Fly-by-wire control Winged vehicles steer via adjustable flaps. In the past, the systems used mechanical hardware such as pulleys and cables, but newer “fly-by-wire” tech replaces that with electric switches and motors. Crafts are lighter and nimbler, and pilots no longer need to yank cables to maneuver. Go left? Turn a stick or push a button. Martin Aircraft’s packs use the tech. “When I’m hovering, I can almost completely let go of the controls,” test pilot Paco Uybarreta says.

2. Mini motors Propelling human flight for longer than 20 seconds requires something better than pressurized fuel. Turbo­jets are miniaturized gas- or diesel-powered engines that generate thrust by compressing air through a turbine. Their power-to-weight ratios help trim down packs. Those on Jetpack Aviation’s suits weigh 20 pounds and generate 180 pounds of thrust—enough to put the engine, plus the added heft of fuel, flight systems, and a pilot, into the air.

Self-driving cars

What’s the holdup?

In early 2018, it seemed like autonomous cars were ready to hit public roads. Then a self-driving Uber struck and killed a woman one night in Tempe, Arizona. The incident got folks worried and also highlighted this tech’s big flaw: It cannot reliably recognize hazards in all conditions. Even an untimely glare can mess with a car’s perception.

All-the-time autonomy relies on a suite of tech. GPS tells the car the best route, while sensors—radar, lidar, and cameras—spy obstacles. An artificially intelligent computer processes those inputs to make rapid decisions: slam the brakes for a person, or go through a leaf.

Vehicles must train for hundreds of thousands of hours to learn ­every hazard in every condition. Automakers can log that time more quickly by putting prototypes on the road. This was Uber’s approach, but after the 2018 accident, it hit the brakes. It’s rolling out a more conservative relaunch in Pittsburgh sometime this year. Cars will drive only during the day, in clear weather, and below 25 mph. While Uber reboots, Waymo—the Google spinoff—might win the race: It’s testing in 25 cities, and launched a robo-taxi service this past December in greater Phoenix.

Still, run-anytime models are decades away. “For a car that can drive up to 65 mph in rain and snow, it will be a long time,” says Huei Peng, director of autonomous vehicle testing at the University of Michigan. Waymo’s CEO recently made a bleaker forecast: It may never happen.

Concepts & prototypes

Robots have been in driver’s ed since the midcentury, but they’re still not ready to graduate to public roads.

1958: Engineers measure autonomy from zero (full human control) to five (total robo driver). The first step is taking your feet off the pedals, as drivers did when cruise control debuted on late-’50s Chryslers.

1989: As autos reach level 2, they learn to see the world and recognize basic hazards. ­Sensors and a computer brain on Carnegie Mellon’s ALVINN, a retrofitted ambulance, let it navigate the campus.

2007: To reach levels 3 and up, cars must handle routes without much (if any) help. The Carnegie Mellon Boss mastered a 55-mile course filled with traffic signals—and other vehicles.

Promising technologies

1. Cheaper sensors Electronic eyes provide a full picture of the road, but the combined cost of high-res cameras, ­radar, lidar, and other sensors totals (conservatively) $75,000. Optics engineers are working on less-spendy ­versions. Waymo, for one, has claimed it’s made a rooftop spinning lidar for just $7,500. Autonomous vehicle companies keep in-house development hush-hush, but, as engineers keep tinkering, the costs will drop further.

2. Brainer mobile brains Driverless cars parse sensor data into navigational cues with a type of AI called a neural network. The brainlike system must ID every view of a jaywalker amid every combination of weather and lighting, and then—within milliseconds—swerve, brake, or plow ahead. Programmers have been training networks to drive since the ‘80s, but on old, slow chips. ­Today, thanks in part to video­ games, ­graphics ​­processors are speedy enough to read the road.

This article was originally published in the Spring 2019 Transportation issue of Popular Science.

Written By Andrew Zaleski

[worstchosenone]

Even If It’s Just Pretend

I was searching for a SnowBaz fake dating fic and I couldn’t find one. Which killed me, so I wrote my own. Also for @snowbaz-feda

Also on Ao3

Description: Simon is broke, his foster father is an asshole, and he knows he has nowhere to go when summer break comes around. So when he sees an ad for a paid psychology experiment involving romantic couples, he's quick to pretend he's in a relationship...with his nemesis/roommate Baz. AKA the faking dating trope that we know we all love.

Chapter 1/Chapter 2/Chapter 3

Simon

I can’t stop tapping my foot, I feel nervous energy surging all throughout me. I hate this, I hate being analyzed and I hate people trying to prod around in my head. I hate it, but I don’t have any other choice.

I’m sitting in the psychology department, getting dirty looks from the couple sitting two chairs down from me (presumably because of the tapping) and I have a strong urge to glare at them (I don’t).

The lady at the desk (Claire?) is talking on the phone, her perfectly manicured nails tapping lightly against the base of the phone. She told me ten minutes ago that it would only be a minute until she could talk with me. She’s been on the phone since then and I start to wonder if she’s talking to a friend. I’m already half-way off my chair to confront her about it when she sets the phone down neatly and glances at her notes, calling out: “Simon Snow?”

I sort of stumble on my way out the chair and she just stares at me pointedly as I make my way over to her, leaning over the slate gray counter that separates up. “Yes, hi.”

“Hello,” She purses her lips, looking me up and down (the part she can see from behind the counter) and smiles. “How may I help you?”

“Are there any paid studies that I can take part in?” I ask, I feel my fingers start to flutter on the countertop and I shove them in my pockets before she has a chance to notice.

“There are a few, yes,” She smiles again, pulling something up on her computer. “I have a list here.”

“Cool, great,” I respond (rather lamely).

“Are you a parent?” She asks doubtfully.

I shake my head.

“Are you an identical twin?”

“I might be,” I sort of chuckle, and I can hear how lame the joke sounds as I say it, but I have no choice but to go through with it now.

“Excuse me?” She raises her eyebrows, clearly not amused.

“Well, I was raised in the foster system. So, I technically could be a twin,” I try for another chuckle, she still doesn’t reciprocate.

“Well, that’s...nice. But it doesn’t exactly work for us does it?” She glances back at her computer. “Are you in a relationship?”

“Yes!” I exclaim, half because I know it won’t be hard to fake and half because I momentarily forget about my breakup with Agatha.

“Great,” She says, her voice expressing exactly zero excitement. “Is it a committed, monogamous relationship?”

“Uh huh.”

“Have you been dating for at least six months?”

I nod.

“Are you both over 18?”

“Yes.”

“Are you currently living together?”

I only think for a second about the implications of what I’m about to say, about what it would mean I would have to do. “Yep.” I smile brightly at her.

“Awesome,” She says, pulling open a drawer next to her and sifting through a pile of papers. She pulls out a cream colored flyer, I can’t see what’s written on it. But she sets it down in front of her and scribbles something. “Take this,” she pushes it into my hands, “You and your partner need to come down here with this before the end of the month to be submitted into the study. Alright?”

“Okay, thank you so much!” I grin, shoving out my hand to shake hers. She looks surprised, but shakes my hand nonetheless. “I’ll see you later!” I call over my shoulder as I head out of the building.

“Mmm Hmm,” She calls, already on to talking with the couple that was glaring at me earlier.

When I’m out of the building, I take a minute to glance at the flyer in my hand. It reads:

Watford University, Department of Psychology

PAID RESEARCH OPPORTUNITY

Romantic Couples Study

You and your partner are eligible to participate if you:

Are in a committed, monogamous romantic relationship

Have been dating for at least six months

Are both over the age of 18

Are currently living together

I sigh when I get to the last one, I won’t be able to fool them that I’m living with someone I’m not. And I definitely don’t have the money to get a place that’s not a dorm, even with a roommate. And my current roommate is a git.

And he hates me.

And I hate him.

And I’m not gay (but I could pretend).

Claire (I think) scribbled in bold letters: COME IN BY THE END OF THE MONTH WITH GIRLFRIEND.

I dip my eyebrows a bit at the word girlfriend. Yes, I am straight, but for this study, I won’t be. I’ll probably go with bi, I want to be as truthful as possible.

I catch myself planning and stop, if I have a hope of this happening, I have to convince Baz. And that’s not going to happen, so I have to keep my hopes down and think of plan b for making extra cash. Because I need it badly.

I crumple the paper and stuff it into my pocket. Until the end of the month, I have thirteen days to convince Baz to do this with me. Thirteen days is a long time, I set my resolve, I will get him to agree. Baz can’t be that much of an arse.

---

Baz

I’m sitting at my desk, trying to focus on my schoolwork, when Snow stumbles into the room. Sounding like a general idiot. I turn to face him, just enough that I can see him but not enough that he can see that I’m watching him. He’s facing his bed, holding a piece of paper. He looks nervous, which is not an unusual emotion for Snow to express. I turn back to my work, setting my eyes low and pretending to not to notice his entrance.

I can feel him come up behind me, can feel his presence. I try to ignore it, he probably just hasn’t noticed how close he’s standing to me (the idiot). I feel him brush my shoulder and nearly jump from the unexpected contact (I don’t though, I’m the collected one).

I turn to snap at him, “Don’t touch me, Snow,” My voice falters noticeably at his expression, it looks like he’s going to ask me something (what could Snow be asking me?). I imagine for just a second that he’s there to confess his love in a grand gesture, to grab me and kiss me. Only a second, then I’m back to my collected and uncaring self.

He falters, his mouth opening just slightly before snapping shut again. This goes on for a moment before I finally stand and face him. “Spit it out, Snow,” I growl, “I don’t have all day.”

“Well, Baz,” He starts, a shy sort of smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He looks adorable, like a puppy, It’s not a look I often see on Snow’s face. And it’s usually just at a distance, like when I’m staring at him talking with Bunce from across the dining hall. “You know I struggle with money, sometimes.”

I narrow my eyes, tilting my head ever so slightly to the right. “And? I care about this, how?”

“Well,” He says again, like a broken wind-up doll. He raises his hand, still clutching the crumpled paper. “I found this thing-”

I snatch the paper from his hand and unfold it. He’s studying my face the entire time, it’s unsettling. The paper is completely crumpled, it looks like Snow did a number on it on the way here. It reads:

Watford University, Department of Psychology

PAID RESEARCH OPPORTUNITY

Romantic Couples Study

You and your partner are eligible to participate if you:

-Are in a committed, monogamous romantic relationship

-Have been dating for at least six months

-Are both over the age of 18

-Are currently living together

Scribbled handwriting reads: COME IN BY THE END OF THE MONTH WITH GIRLFRIEND.

I let out a strangled laugh when I read it. Simon Snow, my roommate. The one who hates me. The one who thinks I hate him. Wants me to pretend to be his boyfriend. I feel like this is some sick joke, some cruel way for the universe to get a laugh. He can’t possibly be serious.

“You can’t be serious,” I’m still laughing, but it’s more of a cruel, practiced laugh now. Less of a hysterical laugh forced out to cover my misery. “Even if the idea didn’t make me sick to my stomach, we could never pull it off. We hate each other, and they’d see that,” I let the paper drop to the floor, it was something to fuel nightmares and dreams. It was a disaster.

“Baz, I know that we hate each other,” He raking his hand through his hair, his face is flushed. He looks like he’s about to explode, I’ll admit, it’s almost more concerning than amusing. “But, you are the only person I can do this with and we some time to prepare, until the end of the month. I need this, you know I don’t have a lot of money and I know that you don’t understand that because you’ve always had everything-”

I tune out his rant, my eyes falling on his perfect blond curls and his blue eyes (which are flashing with determination). He must really need this, because I know he’d have to be desperate to come to me.

And maybe it’s because he’s getting on my nerves.

Or maybe it’s because I can’t stand it when he looks that desperate, when he’s reduced to that.

Or maybe it’s because I think this will be good, that this will lead to something.

Or maybe it’s just because I’m in love with him, and really, I’d give him anything he wanted if he asked enough (I’d give him the world if he really wanted that from me).

For whatever reason, I stop his rambling with a finger inches from his face, and mutter: “Fine, Snow, I’ll do it. I’ll be your fake boyfriend.”

He looks utterly shocked, his mouth is hanging open and I resist the urge to tell him what an idiot he looks like. After a second, his face lights up (maybe that’s why I did it), and he looks like he’s about to hug me. And I don’t know if I’d want that or not.

But he doesn’t, he just grabs my hand from where it hangs in front of his face and practically whispers: “Thank you.”

Even that, that little contact, that little admittance that maybe he doesn’t hate me as much as he thinks he does. My nerves are set on fire, and my heart dances around in my chest. I know then that it would be so much worse to be friends with Snow, to be close to him, but never close enough. It just hurts.

So maybe I did it because I hate myself.

He lets go of my hand, still smiling, and it occurs to me that I could just pay him. I could just give him the money and let it be, God knows I have enough of it. But Snow didn’t think of that, so I don’t mention it.

Simon

Baz said yes.

Baz. Said. Yes.

Baz is going to pretend to be my boyfriend.

I’m going to pretend to be Baz’s boyfriend.

Now that it’s real, now that it’s a tangible thing. I’m struck by how insane this idea is. How will it work? How will we get anyone to believe us? “How are we going to pull this off?” I ask, echoing my thoughts.

“I don’t know,” He backs away and sneers at me, “This was your idea, you need to figure it out. I have more pressing things I have to deal with.”

“Okay, it won’t be so hard,” I smile nervously, sitting down on my bed and tapping my fingers against my leg. “We just have to convince the people at the psychology department, it’s not like they’ll ask us to kiss or anything. That would be weird.”

“No, we have to convince everyone,” Baz says, his tone bored and his eyes on the homework he’d been working on when I'd burst in.

“Why? It’s just a stupid experiment, no one's going to know about it,” I say, shrugging and pulling my knees up underneath me.

“Actually, I can think of three people I know that work at the psychology department. Plus, Watford is a small school and you have a reputation. We’d really have to sell it,” He tapped his pen along the desk. Turning to look at me just slightly.

Right. My reputation, more like our reputation. Watford is small, and it just so happens that my foster father is the dean, and Baz’s mother was the former dean. Everyone (including me) knew that I had only gotten in was because of said foster father, and Baz (who took great pride in the school) hated that. So our rivalry was well known.

“Can you handle that?” Baz asks, turning his chair completely and narrowing his eyes. He’s making it a challenge. Can you handle that? The words echo. And I have to think about it. Holding hands with Baz in public, being friendly (more than friendly), kissing?

I lick my lips, standing up so that I can fully face him (even though I’m still a good three inches shorter than him), “Yeah, can you?”

“Of course,” There’s fire in his eyes. He staring me down, but halfway through our staredown, his expression changes slightly, into something that I can’t read.

---

Baz and I agreed that we’d meet to study up at some point, I suggested that we start immediately but Baz started lecturing me on the importance of doing your homework so I left the room.

I’m heading to Penny’s now, I have to tell her before this all blows open. She won’t approve, and she’ll probably offer me money (which I’ll promptly reject it for the same reason I always do).

When I’m standing in front of her door, my throat dries up. How am I supposed to tell her? It’s weird, me and Baz. The thought turns around in my head, but it won’t settle. It’s like bad food, it’s kind of making me sick.

Shaking my head, I knock lightly on the door. She opens it almost immediately.

“Simon!” Her face lights up into a brilliant smile, and she pulls me into the room. Her roommate's side is an utter mess, but it always is, so I don’t give it much thought. “Come in.”

She pushes her glasses up her nose and tucks a purple lock behind her ears. Penny is always changing her hair color, a few weeks ago it was pink, my personal favorite was blue. She heads back into the room and grabs two brightly colored boxes, holding them out in front of her, one is a deep green and the other is cherry red. I recognize them as hair dye.

She holds up the two, her face questioning. “Red,” I say, settling down on her desk chair.

Penny nods and throws them both onto her bed, throwing herself down beside them.

“What’s up?” She asks, staring at me with that intense eye contact. I have no choice but to look away.

“Why do you assume something’s up? Can’t I just visit you, my friend?” I try for a smile, but she knows me too well, and she just keeps staring. “Fine, I um-I did something that you might consider...you know, stupid?”

“What?” She's pursing her lips and I prepare for the judgment that about rain down on me. Penny, bless her, is very judgemental.

“I convinced Baz to be my fake boyfriend for a psychological experiment,” I say it all at once, the words falling out of my mouth before I have time to re-think them.

“You did what?” Her eyes widen, she grabs onto my shoulder, shaking me. “Why? Why would you do that?”

“I needed the money,” I say sheepishly, I don’t like talking about money with Penny. It just makes her feel bad, and I don’t like it when she feels bad for me (or when anyone feels bad for me for that matter).

“You could’ve come to me,” Penny stops shaking my shoulder and just settles her hand there. “You know that.” Penny isn’t rich like Baz, but her family is comfortable, and Penny has extra money.

“No, Pen. We’ve talked about this,” I shut it down, and she knows when to stop.

“Okay, but you could have at least asked me to be your fake girlfriend. It would have been more believable. Hell, even fake getting back together with Agatha would have been less awkward,” She sits back onto the bed, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. I swear she looks offended.

“You and your partner," I air quote the word partner, have to live together,” I point out, dropping her hand. “Also, I’m not sure if I agree with you about Agatha.”

“Wait,” Penny stops, narrowing her eyes. “You got Baz to agree to do this? Baz? He hates you and he has nothing to gain from this.” She considers for a moment, “No offense.”

“None taken," I chuckle, "And I’m as surprised as you,” I say, shrugging. “He kind of made it a challenge, though, I’m a little nervous.”

“You should be,” Penny sighs, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but he’s probably planning something. Some kind of humiliation plot.”

I shake with laughter, holding onto her shoulder for support. “You mean he’s plotting, like I’ve been accusing him of for nearly two years. Penelope Bunce is accusing Baz Pitch of plotting, I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Shut up,” She growls, “You’ve had your share of accusations against Baz, it’s only fair that I get to be suspicious one time without you gloating. Since I listened about 2000 times before I started complaining.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining. Accuse away,” I grin at her, and think about what it would be like if I could use Penny as my fake girlfriend. The idea creeps me out, Penny’s basically my sister. So even if I could have chosen her, I probably would have still chosen Baz.

[cathrynstreich]

How to Host a Successful Open House to Gain Prospects

To hold an open house or not to hold an open house? The debate has raged on for years, with many agents abandoning the practice altogether. However, as many top earners will attest, the value of a real estate open house is tremendous.

Even if you don’t sell a property the day of your open house, it’s not a waste of time. An open house offers you the chance to interact directly and demonstrate your skills to potential buyers and sellers, who ultimately could turn into clients or refer you to other clients. Just make sure you abide by the following rules when you plan your first and subsequent open houses.

Keep Clients’ Expectations in Check Historically, the sales probability for open houses is relatively low, so make that known. Still, be sure to tout the other benefits to your sellers. An open house encourages sellers to get their property show-ready, clean, decluttered and repaired as needed. That proves beneficial well after the open house date.

Additionally, open houses make it possible for many people to see the property in one day. Plus, they often lead to indirect sales, with people who are only there to browse recommending the property to someone else.

Most importantly is that open houses provide the seller with valuable feedback on the property about the price, condition, and more, from a wider audience. If participants do not make an offer, you can find out why by asking them directly or requesting that they fill out a survey. That information can help you and the sellers take actions to get the house sold more quickly.

Determine Which Properties to Showcase Not all properties warrant an open house. As you plan which properties to market this way, stick to:

Rare or in-demand. If supply-and-demand is low in your area or you are representing a truly spectacular property, you’ll see foot traffic at an open house.

Attractive and well-maintained. In most cases, you want to highlight your nicest properties.

Located in highly appealing areas. Your most sought-after locations are more likely to draw people in. Beyond that, you want to make sure your open house is easy to find; otherwise, people won’t show up.

Prepare the Property to Wow Visitors It’s important to advise your clients to spruce up both the exterior and the interior of the home. Create a checklist of improvements that you recommend the owner do prior to the open house that covers:

Curb appeal. Is the house welcoming and attractive from the street?

Landscaping. Is it neat, trimmed and up-to-date? Is the lawn neatly mowed and weeded? Is there evidence of pet damage?

Interior and exterior paint. Are colors neutral or consumer-friendly? Is the paint fresh and clean? Do secondary colors, specifically on the exterior, complement the main colors?

Cleanliness. Is the house clean, organized and uncluttered? Does it smell nice? Are windows clean so that you can open blinds and curtains to let in light?

Pets. Sellers should make arrangements to have their pets away from the house that day. In addition, make sure that there is no evidence of pets, including hair, offending odors, toys and so on. Many people will immediately be turned off if the home currently houses pets.

Repairs. Do appliances, windows, flooring and so on need to be repaired or replaced? What smaller fixes (e.g., broken molding, burned-out lightbulbs, old caulking, dirty grout) need to be taken care of?

Execute a Stellar Event Once your sellers have done their job and spruced the place up, it’s up to you to make sure the real estate open house goes off without a hitch. Here is how you make that happen:

Schedule it at the right time. For maximum exposure, hold open houses on weekend afternoons for three- to four-hour timeframes. It’s best to start them on the hour (e.g., 1 p.m.), but most important is that you start on time, every time. You don’t want to keep people waiting.

Create informative marketing material. Ideally, limit any advertisements or promotional material to one page, keeping them simple and eye-catching. Be sure to provide all the vital details, including the date and time, clear directions and your headshot and contact information. Additionally, you want to highlight the home’s main features and amenities and provide a quality photo of the property.

Get the word out. Let people know well in advance that you are holding an open house. Promote the event via email and social media. Send out postcards to key clients, prospects and referral sources. Take out ads in local print and broadcast media. Use free advertising methods such as community bulletin boards and press releases, and by posting flyers at local businesses. Most critical, however, is to make sure that open house signs are visible from the road.

Take full responsibility for the event. Although you can have an assistant present to help out or a loan officer around to answer financing questions and prequalify interested buyers, you need to be in control of the real estate open house at all times. Make sure that you have thoroughly researched the property, so you can answer any questions.

Don’t have the seller present. Your sellers likely have an emotional connection to the property—or a dire need to sell it. In the heat of the moment, they could say something that could cause people to lose interest in the property or make a lower offer.

Create some ambiance. During the open house, turn on the lights and open the blinds to make things bright and airy, play soft music or use subtle candles, air fresheners, fresh flowers or baked goods to make the house smell pleasant.

Come out and ask visitors to buy the house. Even with negative responses, you could learn what is keeping them from buying the house, which might be issues that the seller is willing to negotiate. At the very least, you create an opening to connect with them later to discuss other listings you are currently handling.

Go From Real Estate Open House Guest to Future Client Although selling the property is your primary goal for holding a real estate open house, you also want to use the opportunity to build your clientele. Follow these steps to do so:

Set some realistic prospecting objectives. Prior to the open house, decide how many attendees you want to draw, how many contacts you want to add to your lead list and how many interviews you want to obtain from the new leads. Establishing these goals will keep you motivated to prospect during each open house. Just remember to be realistic and base your goals on market size and the attendance results of other recent open houses featuring comparable properties in the area.

Spend some time talking to each guest. Do your best to connect with each visitor. You want to ask plenty of questions and gauge how motivated they are to buy or sell a property. Some may be interested in purchasing a different home, and others may be checking out the property because they want to sell their own in the neighborhood. Find out what they like and don’t like about the property, when they plan to buy or sell, and what they are looking for in a home.

Capture contact information. In a visible spot near the front door, place a guest book or sign-in sheet to collect contact information and feedback. You will likely need to ask each visitor to sign it. Not everyone will, but do your best to capture contact information from at least half of your guests.

Don’t be afraid to ask for a meeting. For people who seem motivated to buy, ask if you can schedule an in-person meeting—or at the very least a phone call. The worst they can do is say no. Ideally, you will schedule meetings with at least 25 percent of the guests who provide you with their contact information.

Show your appreciation. No matter their interest level and response, shake hands and wish participants well as they exit. Provide them with a packet of information that promotes your business, conveys your marketplace knowledge, highlights your past successes (or that of your firm), and encourages them to follow up with you when they are ready to buy or sell a house.

Follow up. If you promised to send additional information, do so as soon as you can. Also, make sure that you keep any appointments you set. This proves your commitment and is critical to landing new real estate clients. Also, send out a thank-you message to everyone who attended shortly after the real estate open house.

Schedule appointments. For those visitors who showed a good bit of interest, call them within two days of the open house, and again two to three days later if you are unable to reach them. With homebuyer prospects, offer to go over suitable listings with them. With homeowner prospects, offer to discuss their selling options. If you fail to schedule an appointment after two or three weeks, shift your focus to more interested real estate prospects.

While you may be tempted to focus your time and effort on other pursuits right now, it’s wise not to overlook the benefits of holding an open house. Open houses are particularly helpful early in your career—with some experts recommending that you hold at least one each week—as you work to grow your contact list and build name recognition in the community.

Yazir Phelps is the chief marketing officer at Real Estate Express, a national leader in online learning for pre-licensing, continuing education and professional development. Yazir has over 18 years of experience in marketing fueling growth at Fortune 500 organizations and over five years of experience working directly with real estate professionals. Her extensive background in generating demand for products and services encompasses crucial strategies to a successful career in the field. To learn more, please visit www.RealEstateExpress.com.

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[thelostlinesofld]

The reason I started this blog

LD

Essay 1

Craft of Creative Nonfiction 28 September 2018

Coming Home: The Time that I Should Have Known.

This week I am going home for the first time in a while, and to be honest I am extremely nervous to be home and in public because so many people know who I am, but they do not know what I have gone through. In a small town, you have to be careful of what you say because the second you say something to someone the whole town knows about it. I am scared to see my old friends because they all they know is that him and I are no longer together and some of them know why, but just bits and pieces of a long scary story that I hope I can share one day. No one knows more about what has happened than Grace, my best friend, and she is not coming home with me. What if he is there? What if I see his family (which is very very likely to happen)? I shake and tremble thinking about the possibility of seeing him there. I am scared about a lot of this now because of what he did to me. Now, when I am watching the football game I will look at the cheerleaders that are standing on the black track that circles the field and distinctly remember how it felt to be down there smiling up at the crowd and cheering on my friends and peers, no matter if they were winning or losing. After high school, he took that smile off my face forever. At my proudest moment, he made me feel like the smallest person in the world. Why? At the time, I did not know why he did this, but now when I look back at it I know exactly why he made me feel this way.

April 2016. It was exactly one week before my senior prom, and it was supposed to be the happiest most exciting two weekends of my high school career. My senior prom dress, which was an eggplant color and covered in sequins, was hemmed and hanging in my closet on two hangers because it was so heavy was ready to go for the big night which was one week away. What was also ready to go? My cheer shoes, which had been bleached and washed so they were even whiter and cleaner than when I purchased them the summer before. Along with my shoes, were socks, a small role of white athletic tape, a bottle of Ibuprofen, a couple light snacks, a water bottle which I would fill up the day of, black athletic shorts a purple UNI shirt and a medium sized bow to put in my hair. When the final bell rang at 3:30pm on that special Friday. I ran out into the schools parking lot to my friend Allison’s car. Allison was going to drive me to Cedar Falls that day since I did not have a car and my parents were working. Once I got to campus, Allison dropped me off by Dancer Hall where the friend I was going to be staying with lived. Allison wished me good luck gave me a hug and drove away. I was so nervous for what was going to happen that day that I could barely finish the sandwich that I had gotten at the Subway on University. When I got to the UNI Dome I was told to enter through the South West set of doors. There was a girl sitting at the welcome table just inside the door with a huge smile on her face, that helped some of my nerves go away, I smiled back at her and handed her my paperwork. She in-turn handed me a “Hello! My Name is___” nametag with the number six written on it with a large black Sharpie permanent marker. She then told me I could walk down the steps and join the other people on the field to begin stretching and warming up. As I

stretched I introduced myself to the other people on the field, after all they could be my future teammates at the end of this. After everyone had signed in and was accounted for we began practicing. We ran through some cheers and chants, the fight song, and practiced a little tumbling before being dismissed for the night. I called my friend who I was staying with and she came and picked me up. She asked all about how my first day of tryouts were and I was so happy about how everything had gone I probably talked her ear off until we went to bed. I do remember her telling me to “shut up, you need to go to sleep”. Little did she know that the conversation I was having with him over text messages was completely different. I told him how everything had gone that day and he would respond with “K”. So, I would ask him what was wrong and he told me “Nothing”, later he told me he was not feeling well so me being the girlfriend I was, told him things he could eat or ideas on how to maybe feel better. He did not respond for the rest of the night so eventually I fell asleep.

The next day was the big day, try-outs had begun. At 10am I found myself again entering through those same doors of the Dome and walking down that same set of stairs and onto the field where I began stretching and warming up my tumbling. I was placed in a group of four which corresponded with the number on my name tag that I was given the day before. In the back of my mind I had the conversation that I had with him the night before, but I was trying to keep that out of my mind and focus on what I needed to do. The first part of the tryout process was going to a small dance studio in the WRC and performing the school’s fight song, a simple chant, and standing tumbling on the hard floor (I had to use a small mat, but I executed it perfectly). After that was over we were allowed to leave to get lunch and they would text us when the results of the first part were posted. That’s when the nerves kicked in again. I kept

thinking to myself, “What if I get cut?” “What if they didn’t like me?” “What will my family and friends think?” Around, 2pm I got the text that said to come back to the Dome, the results will be posted on the door at 2:30pm. So, I immediately ran over there and waited on the sidewalk with about ten other people who also decided to come early. At this point I text him saying I was waiting for the results of the first cut. I got no response, I just assumed he was busy. When 2:30 came along the girl from the check in desk the day before walked out with three sheets of paper in her hand. She posted them on the doors then told us if we did not see our number on the paper we have been cut and we are not allowed to enter the Dome again for the rest of the tryout process. Very nervously, I walked up to the door. I almost didn’t want to look because I always get my hopes up and then I am shot down. I walked up to the door and look at the sheets of paper and found my number right away! “Wow”, I thought. They really liked me. I ran into the Dome and was told what would be happening next. Those things would be stunting, and running tumbling. I had one of the athletic trainers tape my right wrist and my left forearm, got to love tendinitis and skin burn! After that was done we were separated into groups. The groups were, girls who based, girls who backed, and girls who flew. Right away I walked over to the group of girls who based, because that was my position on my high school’s squad. That was when one of the older girls asked me if I had ever flown, to which I responded yes but rarely. She then had me switch groups before they were finalized. I was now supposed to fly for a group that I did not know but had to trust with my life. We started by doing some simple stunts to get a feel for working with each other. At this point, the coach walks by with a judge and so my group decided that we would put up a “Lib”, which is where the flyer is on one foot fully extended in the air. This stunt stuck really well and my confidence began to grow so they

decided to then have me fly a “switch-up lib”, which is where the flyer starts on one foot but then switches feet when she hits the top of the stunt. The bases will fully release the starting foot and then catch the other foot when the flyer switches. All of the has to be timed perfectly for the stunt to work. This first time we did this, we did not have the correct rhythm as a group and the stunt fell. So, we tried it again. This time something in our group clicked and it stuck right away. One of my bases then told me to “pull something” which means that I as the flyer would take the leg that I was not standing on and pull it up into the air to show more difficultly. When I put my leg down the group asked me if I would want to “full down” which is when the flyer twists in the air and then is caught by her bases. So, I said, “Why not!” and proceeded to finish the stunt by doing that. Little did I know that the coach was watching me the whole time and loved it. After stunting, was running tumbling. We had two chances to throw our best skills on the turf of the Dome. I remember getting in line and telling myself, “Okay, you really only have one shot at this, throw it no matter what.” So, I ran, and I dug deep into that turf and threw myself backwards in the air in a perfect tucked position and landed it. You could see my smile for miles after that. The second time came around and I did it again, perfect. Then we were dismissed and told to come back at 9:30pm for results which would be posted on the same doors and would determine who was on the team or not.

After we all left the Dome, I was invited to get ice cream with some of the older girls who had already been on the squad for one or two years. The ice cream was cold and refreshing. Once again, I text him and told him about what I was doing and how I was feeling. This time I got a response, “K, then.” Immediately I got this feeling that he was upset, but why would he be? We all then crowded back into one of the girl’s cars and headed back to the

Dome. We all sat on the sidewalk waiting for what seemed like forever. The girl from the welcome table came outside with two pieces of paper. She then told us again, “If your number is not on the sheet I’m sorry but you have been cut. If your name is on the sheet congratulations and please come down to the field to take a picture.” I nervously walked up to the door, this time I would be content with not making the cut because I knew I had done my best and that I was proud of myself. I scan the sheets and do not see my number, then I take a second look and there on the first sheet is the number six. I jump up and down and start crying happy tears. All of my hard work and commitment had paid off! I quickly take a picture by the sheet with me pointing at my number and then I ran into the Dome to take a group picture.

Then, I text him in all capital letters “OMG!!! I MADE THE SQUAD I AM SO HAPPY AND SO PROUD OF MYSELF!!” Yes, all of those exclamation points were included. I send my dad the same thing since he was the one that was going to be picking me up that night and bringing me home. My dad texts back right away and tells me congratulations, how proud he is of me and that he is waiting right outside the Dome. I run to his truck and he gets out and gives me this huge hug which he normally does not do. I felt my eyes welling up with tears as he hugs me super tight. I then tell him that I am super hungry and we go to Wendy’s to get some food and head home. As we leave the drive-thru my phone vibrates and it is a message from him which simply says “Ok.” I then ask him if he is proud of me, in my mind your significant other should be proud of what you achieve. He texts back right away and says, “To be honest, no I am not.” It was at this point where all of the excitement of the last two days completely left my body. I did not talk to my dad the entire way back home because I was so upset at what my boyfriend had just told me. I cried a lot that night, and into the following day because of what he sent to

me. He ended up giving me an ultimatum, him or cheer. The worst part of all of this was I couldn’t tell anyone what was going on because they were all so excited for me and I didn’t want to hurt them. I didn’t know what I was supposed to choose. Him or cheer. When I did not have an answer for him within a couple days he started getting mean. He would not answer if I called him or text him. If he did reply to a text the only answer I would get would be “K”. I did not know if he would show up to my senior prom. The morning of my senior prom I asked him if I would see him today and he answered with “we’ll see.” Luckily, he didn’t stand me up, but he completely ruined my senior prom for me. But he blames that all on me, probably still does. I hate him for not only ruining those two weeks for me but most of my summer because he was still down my throat about quitting cheer and how I needed to tell my parents that I did not want to do it anymore, and more things like that. I ended up choosing him because that is was I thought I was supposed to do.

So now, I am scared. He acted this way towards me for another three years before I finally gathered up enough courage to leave the relationship. I am always scared that we will cross paths and I will not have a way to escape him. By writing a part of my story I am able to relieve some of the pain he has caused me. The parts that I am not able to relieve, writing helps me cope with what happened over the last five years and helps me to find strength through all of the emotional abuse he put me through. I will always be terrified of him.

[flauntpage]

Your Friday Morning Roundup

Football is back.

The Eagles lost to the Pittsburgh Steelers 31-14.

The season is over! (But the team lost their preseason opener last year and won the Super Bowl). So hold your horses.

There was plenty of good and bad from the preseason opener, but here were some of my notes:

The first team defense is still a unit I wouldn’t want to face. Especially with Long Cox.

Dallas Goedert had one easy drop, but looked like the real deal. Imagine him and Zach Ertz in the red zone.

Nate Sudfeld started off meh but rebounded very well.

One of Sudfeld’s best moments was a 63-yard bomb to Shelton Gibson. That was his only catch, but at least he didn’t drop any passes!

Shelton Gibson flies down the field! This is what we hoped to see from him pic.twitter.com/W0w86dJfx7

— Tyler Jackson (@TjackRH) August 10, 2018

Kamu Grugier-Hill also showed that he isn’t just a special teams ace anymore. He was really good in his time at the WILL linebacker spot. Nate Gerry also had a good night.

Rasul Douglas got toasted twice for touchdowns, but did have an interception. He had a mixed night.

Tre Sullivan attacked a little too much. He’s had a solid camp but regressed a little in the loss.

Jordan Mailata gave up a strip sack in his first career snap. He held his own later, but it’s obvious he needs work.

Sidney Jones got hurt in the second quarter, but he said it was only an ankle sprain. Thank God. He also got the team’s first penalty with the new helmet rule. And it was obvious.

Cam Johnston boomed a punt, but it was called back due to a flag:

A penalty took this 81-YARD PUNT from Cameron Johnston off the box score, but this highlight still exists.#FlyEaglesFly pic.twitter.com/sbzSwxPMQH

— Philadelphia Eagles (@Eagles) August 10, 2018

If you’re interested in the position battles, Donnel Pumphrey, Matt Jones, and Markus Wheaton didn’t play. That really hurts Pumphrey as we saw a ton of Josh Adams and Wendell Smallwood. The undrafted free agent from Notre Dame finished with six rushes for 30 yards and two catches for 11 yards.

We also have this?

During #Eagles #steelers pre season game their was at least one Pittsburgh football found that was VERY deflated . The #NFL has the Football and is investigating. I saw the FB after incompletion and it was like a marshmallow. @SportsRadioWIP

— Howard Eskin (@howardeskin) August 10, 2018

To follow up the question in this story of my report, the FB was discovered in 3rd Qt with Mason Rudolph at QB. Report: Deflated Football Used By Steelers Being Investigated By NFL – https://t.co/OCxFpcCrzE

— Howard Eskin (@howardeskin) August 10, 2018

Before the game, Malcolm Jenkins and De’Vante Bausby raised their fists during the national anthem. Chris Long put his hand on Jenkins’ shoulder in solidarity like he did for most of last year. Michael Bennett was the only Eagle to wait in the tunnel.

Before we enjoy this game lets take some time to ponder that more than 60% of the prison population are people of color. The NFL is made up of 70% African Americans. What you witness on the field does not represent the reality of everyday America. We are the anomalies… pic.twitter.com/gCeNKuTl1d

— Malcolm Jenkins (@MalcolmJenkins) August 9, 2018

Two Dolphins players took a knee before their game against the Buccaneers. President Trump fired off more tweets about it.

The NFL players are at it again – taking a knee when they should be standing proudly for the National Anthem. Numerous players, from different teams, wanted to show their “outrage” at something that most of them are unable to define. They make a fortune doing what they love……

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) August 10, 2018

…..Be happy, be cool! A football game, that fans are paying soooo much money to watch and enjoy, is no place to protest. Most of that money goes to the players anyway. Find another way to protest. Stand proudly for your National Anthem or be Suspended Without Pay!

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) August 10, 2018

At halftime of the game, owner Jeffrey Lurie announced Seth Joyner and Clyde Simmons as the newest inductees into the Eagles Hall of Fame. They’ll be inducted on September 23 against the Indianapolis Colts.

The Birds are off today and have their second open practice tomorrow morning at 10 AM. They’ll play in Foxborough next week against the Patriots, who lost in the Super Bowl to the Eagles.

The Eagles also got a very special Bud Light can.

The Roundup:

The Phils had a day off as they get ready to take on the Padres tonight at 10:10 PM on NBC Sports Philadelphia. Zach Eflin will take the mound.

Pat Neshek believes the Phils can be the next Astros.

“I kind of went through this with the Astros in 2015,” Neshek said this week, reflecting on the Phillies’ progress. The Astros “had a good, young core. They had the resources to add free agents during the time I was there. It feels real similar to that. I think we’re actually ahead of where the Astros were in ’15. I think we’re in a lot better place.”

Neshek admitted he “didn’t have a clue” about which of the Phillies’ young hitters would emerge. His view of the team’s chances stemmed more from his belief in the potential of the young starting rotation.

Aaron Nola’s 3.00 ERA over his final 18 starts last season gave him the look of an ace-in-the-making. Vince Velasquez, Nick Pivetta, Jerad Eickhoff, and Zach Eflin all had their moments, inconsistent as they were, to make Neshek think they could be reliable.

“I thought, if you could get those guys to step up,” Neshek said. “And God, they’ve stepped up.”

The team unveiled their Players’ Weekend uniforms and nameplates for their series against the Blue Jays.

Did you know Gabe Kapler was a K-Swiss guy back in the day?

Zhaire Smith’s surgery went well. The team gave no timetable on his return:

Medical update on Zhaire Smith: pic.twitter.com/bJ3QqqThHL

— Philadelphia 76ers (@sixers) August 10, 2018

Flyers prospect Matthew Strome is working on his skating with a former Olympian figure skater.

Barbara Underhill, who was a world pair champion in 1984, is now prominent in the hockey world. She’s worked with several NHL teams and is currently a skating development consultant for the Maple Leafs.

Strome connected with her through a friend. The two have worked together and are doing so again this summer in Toronto, practicing two to three times a week.

“She’s helped me so much the past couple of summers,” Strome said, “so it’s going to keep getting better.

“Just working on everything really — stride, fast feet and edges, just getting a bit of everything in.”

In other sports news, there were plenty of other preseason games.

Dez Bryant is going to start his visits next weekend with Cleveland.

Starting my visits next week…I’m coming to the Land to see you Mr Dorsey

— Dez Bryant (@DezBryant) August 10, 2018

…I played with a broken foot before based of emotions trying to satisfy the fans.. that didn’t work out to well for me…so this time I choosing to be 100 % for sure.. I’ll take all the time I need to show who I am… I have a legit 3years left https://t.co/LV5jBgNMwS

— Dez Bryant (@DezBryant) August 9, 2018

It appears he’s a big Browns guy:

Phone died…Ok Baker

— Dez Bryant (@DezBryant) August 9, 2018

Ok DAWG POUND!

— Dez Bryant (@DezBryant) August 9, 2018

Cam Newton had some words for Kelvin Benjamin:

Cam Newton shares words with Bill's Kelvin Benjamin video by @jsiner #keeppounding pic.twitter.com/THqZybFLpg

— Matt Walsh (@MWalshMedia) August 9, 2018

The latest edition of RADIO WARS features Mike Missanelli against Jimmy Kempski.

The NBA is really popular on social media.

Kate Upton helped save Justin Verlander from depression.

Jaylen Brown believes the Celtics will win the East.

Heath Evans says he was fired unfairly by the NFL Network.

In the news, two people are dead after a drive-by shooting in North Philly.

The new “Space Force” might be ready to go by 2020.

Starbucks is adding Kombucha. Whatever that is.

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