#danny is the barista at his favorite coffee shop

[tofuingho]

A soulmate AU where you have the last words your soulmate will say to you before they die as a soulmark would be very interesting with the Danny Phantom fandom.

Would the soulmark change after the portal accident, but then stay the same until Danny's final death? Or would the mark change every time he transforms because he's technically dead in his ghost form? Does the mark change color or fade when he's in his ghost form? Or does it stay the same?

What if his soulmate met him once when they were kids? They just bumped into each other. Maybe the words are generic, but maybe they're not. Maybe his soulmate has to grow up knowing that they'll never meet again. And then after Danny's accident, their soulmark changes. Do they assume that Danny was revived and they'll meet again someday? Or do they assume that their mark is for a new person?

What if the soulmark words are super generic? Everyday Danny and his soulmate meet. Everyday their mark changes. But, they can't figure out who the other is because their marks are basic greetings or apologies.

Maybe Danny's soulmark stays the same while his soulmate's keeps changing.

[sistertotheknowitall]

I love the idea of Danny being just Some Guy.

Like yes he’s Phantom, yes he has ghost powers, yes he’s the King of the Infinite Realms. But to the BatFam? That is just Some Guy. A random dude - if you will.

They are positively baffled by him. Like he’s completely normal as far as they (and the background check) can see. Yet, he. Is. EVERYWHERE. (Not actually but it sure feels like it.)

The kids have a running bingo card of where he’ll turn up. Outside a warehouse they’re raiding? Check. Stopped a mugging? He was the one being mugged. Tim’s favorite coffee shop? He was just hired as a barista.  Seriously it’s like everytime they turn around he’s there.

Which wouldn’t be such a problem if he REACTED NORMALLY. But no. He doesn’t flee in fear, stare in awe, he doesn’t even try to say thank you. This man looked Batman in the eye and called him the furry vigilante - TO HIS FACE! He casually referred to Dick as “the flying monkey one” to Red Robin while also calling Tim a literal walking Red Flag. When he crosses paths with Duke he doesn’t always speak but he does always give him a snack. (Sometimes it’s candy, sometimes it’s fruit but it’s always food. And he only gives them to Duke.)

He once told Jason that he didn’t care that he was a crime lord and built like a brick house, Danny would kick his ass and drag his “rotted milk soul” too hell if the gun fights kept going on past midnight. (He had exams in the morning damnit.)

He will only call Damian “baby ninja” no matter how many times the kid insists that his name is Robin.

Spoiler and Orphan? The only ones he’s respectful to but even they get the occasional random comment. (“It may be a Tuesday, but if the universe is gonna make me the human equivalent of a pin cushion then I have the right to keep the knife.”) (It was actually a Friday but who were they to argue with a man bleeding out in an alley.)

Eventually the Batkids start keeping score of who has had the most out of pocket thing said to them by this random white boy.

[renmackree]

Pleasepleasepleaseplease can you just write a LITTLE of the Stiles in Derek's DMs??? I just need something to keep me going while you slowly rip my heart out with other ideas?

I will pay in love?????

Hey Anon, I'm guessing you're talking about this post?

Just for you, ok? :)

Eggs

Butter

Cheese

Look up the percentage of Australia desert for **funsies**

Stiles typed out the list and hit send before sliding his phone back into his jacket pocket. The barista called his name and he scooped the large tray of coffees from the counter with a slight wave and a fiver in the tip jar. Shelly always made sure to add the extra whipped cream on his caramel macchiato frost and that was not to be forgotten.

The Boston air was crisp this morning as he stumbled out of the little coffee shop and towards Roscoe who was parked on the narrow street. While school was in Cambridge, the best coffee was across the river and everyone in his Computational biology department knew it.

Which was why Stiles was always the errand boy.

He put the departments coffees in the little box on the floor of the passenger seat strapping it in so that they would be safe for his long (not so long), arduous (re: three stop lights and a bridge), journey back to MIT.

A ding came from his phone, Stiles groaning loudly as he gripped the steering wheel and shook it in frustration.

"I swear, if it's Lydia changing her order for the seventh time, I'm throwing her Herbal tea into the harbor."

Ha. Boston Harbor. Tea. Stiles was hilarious.

He took another deep breath and opened his phone to see a small notification.

DH: Did you finish your paper on multidisciplinary approach to estimating wolf population size for long-term conservation?

"Huh. Specific..." Stiles had finished that paper a few weeks ago, but had barely made the deadline. He had been about to text Danny that the new AI prototype he had installed on Stiles' phone was whack when he saw the notification came from Instagram, not from M.A.T.T.

Another ping came through.

DH: And why would you need the percentage of Australian Deserts? That seems like a boring thing to spend your free time on.

Stiles' mouth hung open, eyes wide as he realized what was happening. Someone was replying to his DMs on Derek Hale's Instagram. He held his phone out like it was a bomb between thumb and forefinger; an almost whine escaped his mouth.

It had started when he was in High School almost 10 years ago now. One night he had been on an Adderall-Mountain Dew-Jelly Doughnut-Pizza high and decided that the best way to keep all his random thoughts in one place was to use the app that distracted him DAILY as a note system. He had even made a burner account so that he could keep all his random thoughts together.

Only problem was, his little distracted monkey brain had accidently clicked on Derek Hale's DMs rather than his fake account. It was five weeks in when Stiles noticed and at that point it was too late. It wasn't like Derek was going to answer him anyways, he had said on NUMEROUS occasions that social media was not his favorite thing and he only had the account to promote his new movies (which Stiles watched religiously. I Was a Teenaged Mothman was probably the worst and best movie franchise to ever hit the theaters and Derek Hale as Mothman was his every wet dream.)

So, he just continued to use it. Grocery lists, reminders, random thoughts at night, future movie ideas, school assignment ideas, complaints about his stupid roommate back in freshman year - he wrote it all.

And now someone was responding to TEN YEARS of DMs.

Stiles didn't know what he should do. Should he ask if this was actually Derek? No, wait that was stupid. Derek wouldn't actually be handling his social media. He had people. Peoples? Multiple people who could answer this for him.

"Some. of. us. have. hobbies. that. no. one. understands. And. I. need. it. to. win. a. bet." Stiles spoke each words as he typed it, sending the message out before typing another one. "And. yes. I. got. an. A. minus. because. Harris. hates. wolves."

Stiles tossed his phone onto the passenger seat and started driving to campus, mind still reeling that someone would be responding directly to random DMs that made no sense. If Stiles was asking questions about when the next IWATM movie, sure that would be a conversation the PR team might engage in. Not this.

Lydia owes you $40 for Venmo

Stiles decided to ignore it and his phone remained silent the rest of the day.

.o00o.

Call your Dad

Finish your stupid damn thesis or s u f f e r

Don't forget to get tickets.

It had been a week since the strange response to his DM came through, so Stiles assumed it was a fluke. He had tried a new note handling app that Danny had recommended, but a day later he had already started throwing things back into Derek's DMs. Hey, cut him some slack, it was a 10 year habit.

His phone pinged and Stiles' mouth almost fell open again. Another response.

DH: What are you getting tickets for?

This time, Stiles was quick to respond.

SS: I'm going to try and get tickets to the Bruins game tomorrow. Gotta love hockey, am I right?

There was silence on the other side of the screen, Stiles letting out a frustrated sigh. Whoever Derek Hale's Social Media manager was, they picked the weirdest things to respond to.

DH: So not Mothman in Love premier?

Ah. Now he knew what this was. They were trying to see if fans were biting at the newest spin off. Smart marketing.

SS: I already have my tickets for that. Opening night, middle row, got the collector Popcorn bucket on hold too. I know a guy.

The three dots at the bottom of the screen indicated that the person was typing, Stiles wondering if they were going to ask for a quote or a picture for the page from the opening night.

DH: You have appalling taste in movies.

Stiles' mouth dropped open again, his mind running at a million miles a minute and then crashing into a brick wall with the word appalling painted over it.

SS: Excuse me, the Mothman movies are absolute hot trash and I eat them up like greasy diner food. Do not talk about my comfort trash like that.

SS: but they are pretty bad, so I mean. You're not wrong.

And done, there was NO way the Social Media manager would ever EVER respond to a fan who said something like that. He could go back to his note taking life and luckily Derek Hale would never know.

DH: Then why do you watch them?

SS: Because you're a fantastic and sexy actor and if I could I'd lick chocolate off your abs.

His phone pinged.

DH: You're not bad yourself.

HUH.

Stiles was speechless, his eyes reading over the sentence over and over and over again. He opened his Instagram and quickly flipped through the pictures he had. Most were of him with the Lab boys, Lydia was in a lot of them, some of him on vacation in Peru, some with his Dad. Nothing that would ever, EVER scream you're not bad yourself.

SS: wow, maybe you do need those glasses checked? Unless scrawny Computational Biology Doctoral candidates really crank your wheel.

DH: Computational Biology PHD? Big change from the FBI you were originally thinking about.

Stiles sucked his teeth. That was the problem with this dynamic. Stiles had written everything and anything about himself in these DMs and it could be anyone reading it.

SS: Cyber security would have been my downfall if I did FBI clearly, since you know everything and I know nothing about you. I don't even know if you're Actually Derek Sampson Hale.

There was a blip of the three dots and then nothing. Right, Well that was fun while it lasted. Stiles had been about to turn on his Playstation and forget everything when the ping came through.

Instead of a text, there was a picture. Low v-neck, black rimmed glasses, slightly messy hair, beard that looked like it needed to be trimmed, holding a sign that read your turn @StilesisMe.

Derek. Fucking. Hale.

"Oh my god, oh my god..." Stiles scratched the back of his head furriously, throwing the phone on his bed and just circling it like a vulture circling its next meal. "Derek Hale sent you a picture, Derek Hale is reading your shit."

He stopped walking for a moment. "You just told Derek Hale you'd lick chocolate off his abs."

Stiles threw himself on the bed, slamming his head over the pillow at least a dozen times. Finally he grabbed his phone and sent a quick message.

SS: I don't send photos on Insta. Add me on snap if you want. @S.S.Stilinski69420

He waited.

God he waited.

And then the little Ghost of a notification from Snapchat appeared saying Haleofaguy added you as a friend. Stiles felt his fingers freeze as he hovered over the accept. Why, why was Derek Hale the movie star talking to him? Was he bored? Was he lonely?

Stiles remembered an interview once where Derek said he liked talking with people and learning new things, so maybe it was that? Maybe Stiles was just an interesting guy that Derek wanted to know.

No matter what it was, Stiles' insatiable curiosity got the better of him and he needed to know just how far this rabbit hole would go.

He took a minute to find a filter he liked and snapped a pretty unflattering picture of himself with the caption this is what your in for, buckle up Mothboy

Nothing happened, and then snapchat told him Derek Hale saved the picture to their chat and sent one back. It was the most unflattering angle Stiles had ever seen of the actor and he couldn't help but laugh.

It's Mothman

[stealingyourbones]

Short DP X DC Prompts #22

Tim Drake knowing Danny because he’s the cute barista at his favorite coffee shop and will actually make his coffee order rather than look at him in horror and refuse.

[icedghostlatte-art]

Me again 🎃

Was thing about a coffee shop au for Vlad and Danny how do you think that would go if you made it

Not a big fan of coffee shop aus, but here's an idea for you. Not your typical one, perhaps a bit dark actually.

Vlad is obsessive, we all know this. His love will always be obsessive, no matter his reform. In this sort of au, he'll pick up a favorite barista, and if you know anything about retail, you know that the worker is forced to smile and be pleasant.

Vlad mistaking this kindness for flirtation, and forming a crush on Danny, who's just trying to do his job. This au could still be a ghost au, they just never met as they did in canon. He starts going every day until he memorizes Danny's schedule. Danny's unaware, he just thinks that "Mr. Masters" is a regular and continues to be nice. Vlad starts stalking him. Leaving him gifts and the like. Danny doesn't know who's leaving him gifts.

It could escalate into Vlad kidnapping him as Plasmius. This is just the start.

[evandarya]

Danny comes to Gotham on a scholarship (or something)

He meets a cute guy one.

Brain Dead

They meet in a coffee shop

That's it.

I love a good coffee shop AU

Danny had been in Gotham for two months. School had been going well. Who knew college would be a better fit for him than High School? After classes, he liked to visit this coffee shop right off campus. It was close, cheap, and delicious.

"Hey, Danny." The barista, Skye, greeted him. "The usual?" They were already typing it up on the computer.

"Yes please, I'm exhausted." Danny paid and went to sit at his favorite table, in the corner so he could see both doors, but it was already taken by the cutest guy Danny had ever seen. No matter, Danny sat at the next table and pulled out his laptop, and booted it up.

Danny could feel eyes on him as he pulled up his history paper and turned to see the guy watching him carefully. "Can I help you?"

"What kind of laptop is that?" the guy asked. "I'm not familiar with "ZombieWare."

"You wouldn't be, my friend Tucker and I built it. ZombieWare is our creation." They had to make all their own tech to work between the ghost zone and the living world. Regular tech just couldn't handle all the ectoplasm. But now the ghost zone is WiFi capable.

"What kind of OS does it run? Sparrow 3.0?" the guy scooted his chair closer and Danny turned his screen.

"Sparrow 2.5. Sparrow 3 has some security gaps we didn't want to have to find workarounds for."

The guy was very interested in the security gaps Danny had mentioned, and they ended up talking until Skye had to tell them to leave since the shop was closing. They made plans to meet up again and exchanged numbers. Danny couldn't wait to see Tim again.

[asleep-in-the-keep-sideblog]

Asleep In The Keep: A DP x BNHA fic

Summary: A tired hero goes to a café (and some other stuff happens)

Word count: 5149

Chapter 20: I Need Some Coffee...

20/?

There was a new person working at Shouta’s favorite coffee place. This wouldn’t be unusual in any other establishment, but the old man who ran it was very particular about who he let in the back.

A few years back, the place was under investigation for possible ties to the black market as well as aiding vigilantes. A customer reported that they saw a well-known local vigilante go through the back entrance of the store, and a few days later, the same one was seen with new gear. There was other circumstantial evidence as well. Background checks revealed that all the baristas were past vigilantes that had already been caught and processed. However, the owner, Tanaka Masaru, a “quirkless” 67 year old, had a clean record, too clean, not even an overdue fine. There was no doubt in Shouta’s mind that the identity was fake. In the end, Shouta wasn’t able to find any concrete evidence on the coffee shop, and since all they had was circumstantial evidence and 1 eye witness, the case fell apart and was closed. The police department did not pursue it after that since there hadn’t been any vigilantes pop up in that area. Well… except for one.

Shouta has been coming here since then, it was on the way to school and they (surprisingly) made really good coffee. The owner was eccentric as well. Sometimes, Shouta could see him in a corner making little figurines and dishes, mumbling and laughing to himself, which ruined the peaceful atmosphere of the shop. Shouta wasn’t mad about it though, more of slightly annoyed whenever it happened. There was a tall shelf covering a wall that was home to the figurines. Most of them were past vigilantes, little animals or regular customers and staff (Shouta even had one up there). The ones on the top were the oldest and most intricately made, while they got less and less detailed as the shelves went down. The store also sold cups and mugs that were in a similar fashion. They were really expensive, but the craftsmanship was worth it (Shouta even had one or two at home). 

Recently, a kid posted on social media about the place, and since then it has become a trendy spot with the youths, at least that's what Shouta heard. Fortunately, it was 5 AM and so no kids were even alive yet. Shouta could enjoy the quiet atmosphere while he waited for his coffee. He probably shouldn’t be having any more coffee today since he just finished up a long night’s search. Last night (or earlier this morning if you wanted to be technical), was the first lead he got since he started his investigation. Phantom was a tricky one, and his quirk was great at quick getaways, but he was young and one day he’ll make a mistake. But Shouta doubted it was gonna be today. He may as well listen to his husband and actually catch up on sleep. His schedule was still clear since his kids were still at internships. He heard Midoriya had even gotten out of the hospital a few days ago. Problem child…

Shouta’s fingers tapped impatiently on the table. All fantasies of sleep washed away like soap. He needed coffee. Shouta had entertained the notion of quitting before in the past. He has had so much coffee in his life that he suffers withdraws without it. He has been considering buying patches, but he loves the taste and ritual too much to stop. That’s what he said about smoking too. It first started after Oboro died, a way for Shouta to slow time and try to breathe it in. In the end though, it only made things worse. Now he drinks coffee. 

He looked over at the new barista as he made his coffee. His order was simple and always the same; a simple black coffee. Impossible to mess up, but amazing when done right. The kid, whose tag said Tommy , looked to be struggling and Shouta could smell burnt coffee beans from past orders. When the kid checked him out, he gave one look at Shouta before saying that he didn’t have to pay anything. Shouta was shocked to say the least, but he didn’t argue. Free coffee tastes better than bought coffee, that's why he wasn’t worried about the smell. He wondered why the kid didn’t charge him, maybe he just recognized him and was a fan or something (it doesn’t happen a lot, but it does still happen). He severely doubted it.

It wasn’t just the anticipation of getting coffee that made him keep looking at the barista. “Tommy,” what a strange name in Japan. Despite his height and young age, he seemed to carry himself with a sense of steadiness that you only get after experience. Whenever he did seem to slip or mess up, it had seemed intentional, like he was trying to direct your suspicion away from him. The fact he was even working here was cause enough to run a background check. If it had been just those things Shouta would (probably), but of course, there was more.

The final nail in the coffin, and the real reason that Shouta was even studying the boy so intently, was sitting on the table in front of him. The manilla folder that Detective Tsukauchi gave him held the description of a suspicious boy that was seen before the Phantom sighting. Tall & lanky, pale skin, and blue-green eyes, which could describe a lot of the population. Again, if that was the only information provided then Shouta would look away, but then the file listed the most prominent feature of the suspect, black hair with a white stripe. Some minor but still important details were how cold and lifeless the boy was. He apparently had given the other heroes quite the scare. It was obviously the same kid. Whether or not he was also Phantom was left to be determined. 

They had no understanding of his powers, except for the general ghost theme, and even that wasn’t consistent. What type of ghost is able to use ice like that? In horror stories the most ghosts could do was drop the temperature a little bit, not form glaciers able to stop explosions. Shouta had his own theories. Perhaps Phantom’s original quirk was a ghost mutation quirk, but AFO overloaded it with so many enhancement quirks (along with some new ones) that it created this tonally confused mess. If that were true, why couldn’t he have also given Phantom some minor shapeshifting quirk? 

He looked at the boy again. If he was Phantom, he’d be really dumb. The café is a 15 minute walk from the alley. It will only be a matter of time before the Hero Commission checks here. Shouta rubbed his temples… Not unless he told them otherwise. The Hero Commission had no reason to believe that he would mislead them, except for his affiliation with UA. Fortunately, Principal Nezu had the foresight to set Shouta up as more loyal to the Commission than UA in the years prior. Shouta wasn’t proud of the things he’s done, but he couldn't argue with the results. 

Suddenly, he heard a loud shout behind him, and the wet sound of someone spitting on the ground. 

“What the hell is this shit?!” A large man with really nice hair in a uniform blasted out. He marched over to the counter that divided him and Tommy, and yelled even louder , “You can’t expect me to drink this garbage?! I paid 1,304¥ for this and I demand a refund!” That's way overpriced, Shouta thought . What idiot buys a cup of coffee for that much?

“I’m sorry dude-” The teen held his hands up in a placating manner. He looked nervous. 

“Dude?!” The man had become red, and his hair changed colors and hues to match like a fire. 

“Sir!” The kid quickly corrected, “but could you tell me what was wrong with it?” The kid looked down at him, confused. He was tall, maybe 6 '1 while slouching, and easily towered over the Uneri hair spray model. It was like Shouta observed before, the kid was purposely making himself seem less like a threat.

“What’s wrong with it? What isn’t wrong with it?!” His hands started moving like crazy, spilling some of his coffee, “It was scolding hot when I first took a sip of it, it even burned my tongue!” He stuck his tongue out to prove this, it looked fine. He started ranting again, “Then when I took the next sip it was freezing cold! Honestly it was a wonder of science that that even happened-I think this should be donated to science and you with it! Imagine the kind of foreign and new technology that could be discovered?!” 

“I’ll give you the refund and make you a new coffee if you like?” he tilted his head, “It will be a little wait since I’m backed up right now…” He looked around the shop which only held the three of them. Truly a master of his craft. 

Shouta clenched his fists. He knew the kid could handle it on his own. A bratty customer must’ve been a vacation compared to what the kid had been through before. It was probably better to stay out of it. He didn’t want to cause a scene or alert Tommy to what he was doing and what he knew. He really shouldn’t get involved…

“It’s time for you to stop-” no later than when the final word left his mouth, had the man flung his coffee at the boy. It splattered on the boy leaving him soaked and confused, rage and a green glow in his eyes. 

Shouta had a similar reaction. In no quicker than a blink, his capture scarf wrapped around the prick. He pulled it tight, and the man fell down at the ankles, hitting his head on the counter. Good. 

By this point the kid had backed deeper behind the counter, staring anxiously at the rope. This is exactly what Shouta didn’t want. Too late now. He pulled the asshole along the ground, careful to make sure he bumped into every chair leg or corner. His hair dragged behind him, sweeping up dust and dirt and getting knotted. His hair was gorgeous, every wave of his head reflected the warm light of the café that gave it the illusion it was changing colors. Deep blues, vibrant reds and crisp yellows that reminded Shouta of his husband, it was honestly a sight to behold. Too bad the guy was such a dick. He yanked harder when they reached the door frame, making sure he hit his head on the door stopper. Shouta released him out of his tape as if he was flapping dirt out of a rug. The dick-bag looked back at Shouta with a rage clear on his face. He started marching towards Shouta, but he thought it was time to show off his own hair. Like a cobra raising it’s hood, Shouta’s hair flowed menacingly at the man below him. He sneered and spit at Shouta, but walked away, grumbling to himself. 

Shouta let his hair back down and sighed. He was no longer angry, just tired. He turned back into the coffee shop and sat at his original table. Luckily the folder was still there. Shouta had to be more aware next time. Tommy, now recovered from the display, walked over to hand Shouta his coffee. The kid looked awkward and suspicious all at the same time. 

“Thank you…for that…” Tommy was looking away and gave Shouta a short bow. Clearly he wasn’t used to it. That could be because he was isolated from a young age and so never had to learn proper manners. Shouta was 92% sure the kid in front of him was Phantom.   

“Anytime kid.” Shouta nodded at him, and he went back behind the counter. He must’ve felt Shouta’s eyes still on him since he grabbed a random cup and pretended to start cleaning it, still looking back and forth at him. Shouta turned his gaze down. This is the kid that freaked out Mount Lady and Kamui Woods? Shouta almost laughed. 

No. Although he may seem like a kid, he was still an unknown. Of course he wanted him to join UA and get a chance at a life he clearly never had, but Shouta had to be ready for the very real possibility that he could still side with All For One. He couldn’t let himself get attached. 

Still-Shouta was glad the kid was alright, customers can be such assholes sometimes. And despite the turn of events, Phantom didn’t seem to distrust him. He could use that. He was already a regular but now he had to be extra aware to come in when he was on shift. He really wanted Phantom to go to UA, not just for the Principle. 

He took a sip of his coffee and then immediately almost spit it out. Phantom’s head whipped towards him, but he was able to get it down and smiled (although it probably looked more like a grimace). Only after the boy turned around again did Shouta unclench his jaw. How do you mess up black coffee that bad? It was thick like tar and had an overwhelming burnt taste, Shouta would rather drink liquified coal. 

Shouta looked up to the heavens trying to summon however much strength it would take to finish it. That strength came in a little flask he kept on him (for the hard days), and he poured some of its contents inside. He took another swig and was almost able to convince himself the sharpness came from the whiskey. After he was done, he walked up the bin to put the dishes in and laid it down like a body into a grave. The cup didn’t deserve that…He nodded towards Phantom, Phantom nodded back, and left the café.

Maybe he should switch to patches.

Zzz

After he left the café, Shouta went back to UA. He had already messaged Principle Nezu about his encounter with the suspected Phantom. The maniac responded instantly and said that he would be waiting for him at his desk. Shouta always had the theory that Nezu lived there, in his office or some hidden room in the school, maybe both. 

Luckily, the school was only a 5 minute walk from the café. Phantom was really considerate of Shouta’s routine, he now didn’t have to waste 5 hours a day scouring the city for him. Maybe Phantom wanted to go to UA and that’s why he was so close, Shouta laughed to himself sleepily. The coffee from before didn’t help at all. Another thought bubbled to the surface. Or maybe he was stalking the school. It was important to see both sides. The reason Shouta chose not to believe it was stupidity. An old but still meaningful quote rang in his ears, "Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity" And the kid was also working at a coffee shop that was a short walk from his crime scene. If he did join UA, Shouta would have to teach him to be better aware of his surroundings. He smiled at the thought.

He made it through the building without any hassle. Some teachers liked to be there early even without the kids there. If Shouta wasn’t mistaken, they still had 2, no wait it’s a new day, 1 more day of internships left, then tomorrow to recover. Shouta would never admit it out loud, but he had started to miss the little shits, even Kaminari and Midoriya. He was about ready to expel them both for their stupidity. Midoriya because he’s always breaking something and Kaminari because just last week, he had to send him to the nurse’s office for stuffing hot sauce packets up his nose. Again. He hadn’t even used his quirk that day. Shouta was half convinced that the boy just used his quirk as an excuse. He’s been wanting to talk to his parents about making him wear a rubber helmet so he doesn’t fry the last few brain cells he has left. Shouta pinched the bridge of his nose at the prospect…

He passed by Power Loader’s workshop. The door was cracked open a little, letting smoke waft into the hallway. Students liked to blame Mei for all the accidents in that room, but Power Loader still has his mishaps. He says that mistakes lead to innovation, maybe that’s why Mei was so unrestrained in her learning. Power Loader was sitting at his work bench behind a fan drinking coffee. It was one of the rare occasions Shouta got to see more of his face. Even in work meetings he had something covering it, either his hair or a helmet. They nodded to each other, and Shouta went on his way. He had never been close with the man, seeing him more as a co-worker he was friendly with rather than an acquaintance, but the lure of coffee was tempting. He couldn't of course since he had news for Principle Nezu. 

None of the other faculty members stopped him. Like with Power Loader, Shouta was pleasant with them but had no more than a working relationship with anyone in the office, except of course his husband and Nemuri, who he couldn’t escape from. 

Although Yagi has been trying to get closer to him for some reason, he even brought him lunch one time. Shouta thinks it’s so he can get more information about Midoriya. He would be stupid not to notice the connection between them. Their ‘secret meetings’ weren’t so secret with Yagi shouting everything. Fortunately, he was able to lead any perked ears away from their conversations. He was pretty sure Midoriya was the next user (but he wasn’t supposed to let Yagi know he knew that). Before the pair had started at the school, Principle Nezu had informed Shouta of Yagi’s condition. He didn’t tell Shouta anything about the boy though, so it was either Nezu himself didn’t know or it had yet to happen. 

Shouta was pretty sure some of Midoriya’s classmates had also noticed the connection, Bakugo and Todoroki being the main ones. Todoroki fortunately interrupted it as Yagi being Midoriya’s father, which was its own can of worms, but easy to sort out. Bakugo on the other hand seems to suspect the actual connection between the two. He was a smart kid, way smarter than people gave him credit for (Shouta just wished he used those brain cells to read a self-help book). He has recommended therapy or counseling to his parents before, but his mom seemed offended that Shouta brought anything up in the first place. Shouta would just have to help guide him like he has been doing. 

He walked past one of the teachers' offices and a familiar face caught his eye. It was Nemuri. She was hunched over a stack of papers, probably old assignments from students that she forgot to grade. Today was one of the last days before the students returned and would be expecting those grades. She wasn’t the best at balancing hero work with being a teacher, but the students loved her. She scowled at the pile through her glasses. 

Shouta walked faster, but he was too late. A pair of arms pulled around him from the back and wouldn’t let go. 

“Shouta!!!!” She squeezed tighter around him and wiggled. Shouta grabbed her arms in an awkward hug and patted them. She let go after a moment and Shouta turned to face her. “How’ve you been? You haven’t been answering any of my texts, I mean, you usually don’t but you at least text back one word after a few days.” she teased. 

Nemuri had always been a lifeline to Shouta. She pulled him out of the darkness more times than he could count. Early in Shouta’s hero career, he failed to save someone for the first time. He locked himself in his room and kept going over what happened, trying to find some way he could have saved them. He also kept thinking of Oboro, which only made things worse. He had stopped eating and not even Hizashi could pull him out of it. One day, Nemuri kicked down the door and dragged him out by his scarf. She, with the help of Hizashi, washed him up and untangled his hair. Shouta just broke down crying in the shower, wet and covered in suds. She just held him as he cried like a child. After he got washed up, she got him his favorite food and they all just sat in comfortable silence. She also convinced him to start therapy and even recommended someone. Shouta could safely say he might not be here without it. 

“I’ve been doing patrols, as usual,” he responded simply. Nemuri laughed and elbowed him in the ribs.

“Oh come on! I’ve heard you’ve been training that kid from class 1-C, What was his name?” she put her finger on her chin in a dramatic pose.

“Shinso Hitoshi” Shouta walked into the office to find the coffee pot and she followed after him.

“Ah that’s right! He was the one who had the mind control quirk right? He lost to Midoriya in the 3rd round.” 

“Brainwashing actually, and yes. He has a lot of potential and I think he would fit in 1-A, plus we have the same for it,” Shouta still has no idea how that one kid got into UA in the first place. Shouta expelled him the first day when he tried to peek into the girl’s locker room. That behavior was not appropriate for a hero and if he did manage to succeed, he would use his power to control women, and Shouta didn’t want that on his conscience. “I just have to find the right time to introduce him. The sooner the better before the gap is too wide, I can only do so much on our one on one time. I thought after the internships would be a good place, but then the testing got rescheduled and I don’t want to throw him into the deep end on his first day…” Shouta was thinking aloud to himself. This is a topic that has been cycling through his head for several days.

“That and I hear that your classroom is gonna get a major change soon” she winked. Of course she knew. When Shouta didn’t answer her, she continued, “Does it have something to do with your secret project with Principle Nezu?” Shouta signed. 

He grabbed one of the cups by the coffee machine and poured some in. It was a green liquid and it smelled sweet. He looked over at Nemuri and she shrugged. 

“I drink tea over coffee, you know this.” Shouta groaned and handed her the cup. “How generous, thank you” and she took a sip. 

“I have to go talk to Principle Nezu…” He mumbled and stalked out of the office.

“Make sure to keep me updated on your class! ‘Zashi can only tell me so much!” She called after him.

Zzz

Without any more distractions keeping him, Shouta finally made it to Principle Nezu’s office. Nezu sat at his desk with his signature smile and his hands folded on the table. He was stock still, like a stuffed animal, but Shouta had gotten used to how the Principle acts to pay it much mind.

“Ah, good morning, Mr. Aizawa.” He greeted.

“Good morning, Principle Nezu” Shouta didn’t sit down, instead making his way to the coffee machine by the wall. There was a fresh cup waiting for him. He took it and eyed Nezu, who still smiled, then he sat down in front of him. “Sorry it took so long, I got distracted on the way here.” 

“No worries at all. I never said a time to meet, just simply that I’ll be in my office.” Empty words. They both know the sooner the better for this kind of thing.

Shouta took a sip and gagged, decaf. It was still better than nothing. He took a seat across from Nezu and placed the coffee on the table and reached into his pocket, grabbing the manilla folder and the small baggie with the dirt he collected from the scene. Nezu took them both gently with his stubby arms.

“Detective Tsukauchi has already delivered me the folder, but this,” He held up the bag, “I had no clue of.” Shouta took a sip of his coffee, too ashamed to have kept the info from him, even if it slipped his mind. 

“I collected it from the scene. It was in a dent away from the fight. It looked fresh. According to the report, Phantom was hovering over it before they attacked him.” Shouta’s fist clenched at the reminder. He wished he had found the boy first. 

“And the bag itself?” Principle Nezu asked.

“I didn’t have anything else on me.”

“Very well. I shall run it through our lab to see what comes up. I can follow your line of logic in thinking that this could’ve had possible significance to Phantom, but it’s best to remain critical.” Shouta nodded.  

“Of course. Now to move on to the other matter…” Principle Nezu’s back straighten even more, if that were possible, “After I completed my patrols for the night, “Nezu didn’t correct him that it was now morning, “I went to my usual coffee place where I saw a teen who looked a lot like the description of the boy from page 45, the one who ran into the heroes before the altercation.” 

Nezu Hummed, “So you think this boy is Phantom?” It was rhetorical but Shouta still answered.

“I do. The way he moved and acted was also suspicious. It was clear that his clumsiness was intentional, and during an altercation between a customer-”

“He fought a customer?” Nezu questioned, his eyebrow quirked. 

“No, I fought a customer.” Shouta stated. “He was being rude to Tommy, the name of the barista and suspect, and then splashed coffee on his face, at which point I intervened.”

“You seem more tired than usual, Mr. Aizawa”

“I wasn’t able to enjoy any coffee.” He took another drink of the miserable cup in front of him. 

“Of course, whatever it takes to get you through the day,” Nezu teased. He had also tried to convince Shouta to stop drinking coffee so much. “Can you tell me anything about the interaction between you and ‘Tommy’” 

“Our conversation at the start was quick, just me ordering a coffee,” Shouta thought for a moment, “although it was strange, he didn’t charge me for the cup.”

“Perhaps he recognized you? Or maybe he already feels a connection with you.” Nezu let out a small laugh.

“Doubtful. If he was truly raised by All For One, I would imagine him to be more disdainful or at least distrustful of heroes, especially after what happened last night. Although perhaps he also looks up to the heroes because of his father. He is a vigilante after all.” Shouta hasn’t had the time to think too deeply about what that could mean, but the more he did, the less he liked.

“Who knows,” Nezu definitely knew something and was hiding it. He would tell Shouta if it became important enough. 

“I digress, shortly after I sat down the customer started harassing Phantom. At first it was just yelling and general insults, but I stepped in when it got physical. I dragged him outside and kicked him out.” Nezu nodded, “However, after the man spilled his coffee on Tommy, I noticed the boy’s eyes glow green, not unlike what it detailed in the reports with Phantom. That’s when I was convinced they were one in the same. Of course, there is always the possibility that the two are separate, but I do not think this is the case.”

“I would have come to the same conclusion myself.” Nezu agreed. 

“After the altercation, Phantom handed me my coffee and thanked me. He seemed awkward about the exchange, though. I left shortly after and came here.”

“Thank you for your report, Mr. Aizawa. I hope I’m not asking you too much if you could write this all out for me with any other details you can remember. Even the most minor thing could be important.”

“Consider it done.” Sensing the meeting was over, Shouta stood up to leave. “I just have one question Principle Nezu.” 

“And what's that?” His eyes gleamed.

“How many quirks does Phantom have?” The Nomu’s were no longer human after just 3, and this kid has displayed far more than that. They could be on a timer to save the boy before he was lost forever in himself. 

“I do not know.” Nezu stated. Ice spread through Shouta and a weight settled in his gut. Even the principle doesn’t know? Shouta’s hands clenched into fists again. As much as he wanted to save the kid, he had to remember he was an unknown. He couldn’t let his emotions get in the way with that.

“You should probably get some rest, Mr. Aizawa. We both have a long few days ahead of us.” and with that, the meeting was officially over.

Shouta slowly walked out of the room trying to process the whole conversation. The Principle had clear faith that Phantom would indeed join UA, and so Shouta just had to trust him until proven otherwise. He hoped to whatever god that becomes a reality, for both Phantom’s and his sake. Until then, he would do his best to build his trust and extend a hand to the boy. It was his choice whether he would take it or not. 

One thing was for certain, he would try to save the boy until he begged him to stop, even then he might push.

When Shouta got home, the house was empty. Hizashi was still at the studio for the morning radio. He was kind of relieved he was gone. He wasn’t ready to talk about the day he had yet. Still so many unorganized thoughts in his head. He collapsed onto the bed, not bothering to change his clothes or taking off his shoes; it was laundry day tomorrow after all, or was it today? Time had lost all meaning to Shouta a long time ago. He closed his eyes and thought about Phantom again. He will save him, even if he loses an arm in the process.

He closed his eyes and thought about Phantom again. He will save him, even if he loses an arm in the process. 

“Damn it” he cursed into the still air.

He got attached.

[pennylanefics]

Concept idea: Fluffy little blurb about meeting them in a coffee shop/record store.

i literally have a whole universe about danny owning a record store omg. but i'll mix these two together.

you had been going to this coffee shop for years, living in nashville. it was your favorite place to go to just hang out and spend time alone. it was quaint and quiet, no loud radio music, just soft indie songs constantly.

so when you notice the shop next door to it with a new sign above the window, you were curious. you asked the barista there, who knew you at this point, and she said that a new record store was going there.

as the months pass, you see more and more construction being done on the inside and how it's slowly coming together. finally, when the shop opens, you were planning on going and checking it out. but you of course had to stop at the coffee shop first for some light reading.

as you are in your favorite spot, you hear a deep voice up at the counter. your head raises and you see a tall, slender yet built man, with dark curly hair and blonde highlights peaking through some areas. he catches your eye and smiles, but goes back to looking at the barista and taking his drink. he walks out, and you think that was it of seeing him.

however, when your own drink is finished and you read the amount of chapters you wanted to, you head next door and step inside. the vibe is completely different than the shop you were just in, but it still felt welcoming.

"hi, welcome in," that same voice says to you. you glance at him and walk over to the counter.

"this just opened, right?" you ask. he nods and sticks his hand out, introducing himself as danny.

he tells you his entire life story, basically, of how he's always wanted to open a record shop and how his love for music and sharing it with others pushed him to do so. he shows you around the store, giving you details of sections and everything.

you thank him and look around for a bit, ending up with a few in your arms, which he sets at the counter for you so you are able to look. since it was a pretty slow day, with it being so nice out, you stay and talk with danny after you buy your things, and then run them to your car really quick.

you talk about literally everything and anything, from your music interests, to concerts you've been to, to what you get up to in your daily life. after an hour or two, you see the you should probably get home, but danny makes sure to ask for your number before you can get very far.

you let him know that you'll definitely be back soon. and from there on out, you spend the next few weeks with danny at both his shop and the coffee shop, talking and talking, getting to know each other better as time goes on.

[civilgroupie-gvf]

How you met Josh Kiszka

CHAPTER 1

Summary: You bump into Josh at a coffee shop and later find out he’s in a band. He invites you to a gig at a local venue. And the rest well :)

Morning coffee was nothing out of the ordinary for you. Especially on a Saturday morning after sleeping in. However today was not going to be ordinary. You knew the moment you opened your front door and smelled the cool air. It smelled like a mixed fragrance of the end of summer and beginning of fall. There was a magic to the crisp and freshly showered feeling of leaving the house today, and you were intrigued by what it could possibly mean.

You arrived at Donna’s Corner at quarter to 9. Taking in the sweetness of the shop, and examining the pastries behind the glass, you contemplated whether you were hungry yet or not. A jingle redirects your attention to another patron. A curly haired boy, soft in his expression but brisk in his movements.

“Hey! uh How’s it going Tiff? Listen, I’m late...” His voice trailed as he noticed you standing there. You felt stiff but smiled not knowing what he was looking at. “Sorry. I’m late to the studio again.” He continued to the teenage barista, Tiffany.

“The usual?” Tiffany said without any reaction. “Yeah” he said simply as he pulled out his wallet. He waited silently for one chai, a hot tea, and two americanos. No other words or looks were exchanged that day, but there was electricity in that room. You still remember the morning sunlight shining through his brown fair curls as he waited for his drinks.

The next time you saw Josh was at the county fair. You had almost puked after getting out of the Gravitron when your best friend, Beverly, tugged on your sleeve toward the stage area.

"That sounds like Rock N Roll!” Beverly shouted.

You were captivated by the mix of  the organ, and what could only be described as angelic vocal melodies.

A tree of life in rain and sun / To reach the Sky, it’s just begun

To this day, Age of Man is your favorite Greta Van Fleet song.

It took a few minutes for you to accept that the lead singer was that boy. The boy from the coffee shop. You, and Beverly enjoyed the rest of their set, mesmerized by their poise and energy. You watched as Josh interacted with the audience, belting out lyrics and baptizing you all with runs and melodies that made your heart melt. You made note of the other boys as well. All very good looking, and it was apparent they were  very serious about their music. The audience loved them. Especially the girls in the front row that seemed to be wearing hand painted T shirts that said things like  “I’m a Jake girl” or “Danny, please spit in my mouth”.

By the end of the set everyone was sweating from the sheer amount of energy and that amount of rock n roll in one sitting. You wondered if you’d ever bump into Josh again.

That winter you were at the only record shop in the 100 mile radius, shopping for a birthday gift for Beverly. You knew her favorite band was Fleetwood Mac, so you B lined straight to the Rock section. flipping though and scanning all the labels until you finally spotted it. You pushed the label back and revealed their section to be empty.

“Sorry I took the last one.”

You heard from behind you.

You turned, and much to your surprise you were standing there. Face to Face with Josh again. There was a hint of Patchouli in the breeze that seemed to originate from his chest.

“Oh!” you laughed noticing he was holding the record “Rumors” by Fleetwood Mac.

“I let my brother borrow it and his dog chewed it up.” he sighed. “I can’t live without this record.” He said sincerely but also grinning at his own hyperbole.

“That’s fine.” you chuckled. “I was trying to find The White Album because my best friend Beverly doesn’t have it yet.”

“Well that works because I wasn’t about to give it up!” He chirped playfully.

You shared a giggle, and in order to avoid an awkward silence you said the first thing you could think of.

“I think I saw you preforming at the County Fair.” You said matter-o-factly.

“Oh you saw the band!” He said excited. “I play with my two brothers and my little brother’s friend. It’s fun.”

“Yeah you guys rocked.” You said, immediately blushing as you overthought your choice of “rocked” as a word.

“Thanks.” He smiled. You noticed a slight gap between his two front teeth. You were still thrown aback by how handsome he was, and how close he was getting to you as you talked.

“Aren’t you the girl I saw at Donna’s Corner that one time?”

You froze in embarrassment. You didn’t think he would remember you.

“Oh probably. I love that place. I go every Saturday morning.” You let out.

“It’s wild how we keep bumping into each other.” He observed.

“Do you have any other gigs planned?” You asked trying to hide your blushing.

“Yes!” He almost jumped out of his clothes.

“Have you heard of Rusty Pete’s downtown?”

“Yeah I think so...” You said trying to remember if you had or not.

“We’re playing for a couple hours on Sunday. My mom’s friend owns it and she arranged to have us play on Sunday for exposure.”

“That’s really cool! That’s the day after Beverly’s birthday party.” You said.

“Do you want to come? You can meet us in the back before we go on.” He said.

You were stunned by the invitation. So stunned you forgot he was expecting an answer.

“That sounds fun.” You said trying to be cool about it. “I have to see how I’m feeling after that party.” You laughed.

“Yeah for sure. Here let me give you my number.” He said.

You exchanged numbers and final looks before hugging goodbye.

“What. The. Fuck.” You said under your breath in disbelief at what had just occurred.

Beverly’s birthday party was as you had expected. Full of weed and alcohol. You crawled into bed around 4 AM and passed out until the evening. You peeled your face from your pillow case squinting at the daylight while you looked for your phone.

“How is it already 4 PM?” You groaned mostly at yourself.

“Shh. The rooms spinning.” Beverly said quietly from under the covers.

The ding from a Text jolted you awake, and further escalated as you realized it was Josh confirming that you’d be at his show at 6 PM for curtain call at 7:30.

“Hey y/n, I’m excited to see you later. We’ll be warming up around 6 and hanging out. Bring Beverly.” Read the message.

“Bev. I forgot to tell you I bumped into the guy from the county fair band at the record shop, and he invited us to a show in downtown today.”

“WHAT?!” Beverly leaped out of bed. “How could you forget something like that!”

“You don’t have to come I know its last-” You tried to say but Beverly cut you off.

“Oh I’m 100% going, bitch are you kidding me?! Did you see how hot those guys were.” Moments ago Beverly was the color of a rotten zombie hiding under the covers from a hangover. Now she glowed, and rummaged inside her closet looking for the perfect outfit for tonight.

“We have two hours to get ready.” You and Beverly moved over to your place so you could shower and put on a fresh outfit.

It was 5:45 as you hopped out into the living room on one foot, trying to slip into your chelsea boot with the opposite foot. “Shit” You said out loud as you realized you were going to be late.

“Hey, We’re running a bit late. We’re on the way though!” You texted cheerfully.

The three dots popped swiftly after.

“No rush :)” he texted back.

When you arrived you felt the sudden panic of what was about to unfold, that you had managed to ignore as you focused on getting to Rusty Pete’s as fast as possible.

You could feel your palms starting to sweat and your chest tighten. But you took a deep breath and reminded yourself that you are that bitch and winked at yourself in the mirror.

As you made your way from the street to the back alley, Beverly was going on about her ex and how he texted her ‘Happy Birthday’ last night. You tried to stay focused on her story but couldn’t help your eyes lazering to every corner in search of a very specific person.

Finally you heard a familiar voice. There was laughing from everyone as they watched Jake and Josh banter about the setlist.

“Safari song should be first. Obviously!” said Jake. “You just dsagree to annoy me Josh.”

“Jakey I would never!” Josh feigned shock.

And then he looked at you.

“Y/N! Guys these are my friends.” Josh announced to the rest of the band as he waved you closer and introduced the both of you.

Jake had a quiet confidence that could bring anyone to their knees. He smiled and shook your hand.

Sam was next, but he was busy trying to catch Peanut M&Ms with his mouth, for several seconds, before he realized Josh was talking to him.

“Oh Shii- Hi sorry!” He laughed and shook your hand. You were amazed by his joyful expression, and realized just how hot they all were.

“This is Danny” Josh led you towards an olive skinned tall boy with dark, long, thick, hair. He was shirtless showing a happy trail that sneaked into black denim jeans.

“Put some fucking clothes on.” Josh joked as he pulled you closer with his hand on the small of your back.

“Hi” Danny said smiling. “Blink twice if you want me to take care of this guy for ya.” He said with a deadpan expression.

You giggled.

“Hey it’s early enough to show you the venue while it’s empty.” Josh offered checking in with your eyes once again.

“Okay” You smiled and started towards the back door.

“OK byeee bitch” You heard Beverly shout at you as she teased you from beside Danny.

You flipped her off quickly as you followed behind Josh into the dark of the venue.

Once inside you felt yourself get goosebumps at the freezing airconditioned room with entirely too much open space. The emptiness of the room made you lean towards Josh’s warmth as his voice trailed off into different directions.

“So yeah this is it.” He flashed his tooth gap at you.

“Pretty cool!” You said looking around at all the old wooden art and neon signs. Above you sat a huge red neon sign that advertised a local beer brewery called “Ann Arbor Harbor”

“I like the vibe in here.” You added looking up at Josh’s eyes who was staring at your lips. He met your eyes and held his gaze.

You held your gaze back.

He leaned closer and asked, “Can I kiss you?” into your ear. His whisper tickled the side of your neck. His face glowing in a romantic red from the neon sign. The red light helped reveal the desire in his eyes as you nodded and whispered, “Yes.”

He wrapped himself around your body so softly, you felt like you were floating. His lips were soft and moved slowly but with a lot of intention. You let your tongue curl up into Josh’s mouth which led to him sucking it softly. increasing in speed and intensity, his hands gripped at your waist as you inhaled his scent and continued the passionate kiss as you saw stars, and ran your fingers up the back of his head and gripped his hair. The kiss could've lasted a second or an hour. Time stopped existing the moment his lips closed in on yours. His hands moving up as he slowed the kiss down and held your face with both hands. He pecked you a couple times before finally emerging from your kiss to smile at you.

You smiled back and wondered if the thumping was your heartbeat or his.

“Come on lets join them outside.” He held out his hand for you.

“Lets go.” You said  accepting his hand and letting him lead the way.

[urmindisastreamofcolors]

Greta Van Fleet One Shots: How You Meet

T/W: Mentions of a car wreck

Josh: 

It was an unexpected turn of events, but Josh liked to refer to it as universal intervention. Every morning you walked ten minutes down the street to your favorite coffee shop to get something heavily caffeinated before holing yourself up in your art studio for the rest of the day. This morning activity had gone past routine a long time ago and had quickly become ritual. You had found out that walk was a great way for you to start your day for sculpting with clay. 

One rainy fall morning right before Halloween, you were surprised to see four young guys milling around the coffee shop seeming to enjoy the atmosphere while they discussed various pieces of art from local artists lining the walls. A few of the pieces of photography were yours from when you visited the Grand Canyon a couple summers ago, but since then, your attention had been focused on pottery. 

After a steaming latte was firmly secured in your hand and a hefty tip left for the baristas, you began to make your way back to the door as you planned out your day mentally. Before you could grab the door handle, one of the shorter guys from the group with curly hair quickly held the door for you with a breathtaking smile. You hadn’t been into photography in years, but you would’ve died on the spot to have captured that grin on camera. 

You offered your thanks quickly as you your face was suddenly on fire. He had to of known you were staring, but what you didn’t know was the he had been staring since you entered the coffee shop. 

“Hey! Wait! What’s your name,” the young man called after you as you stepped outside onto the sidewalk. The morning light made him squint his deep brown eyes as he stared at you, waiting on an answer. 

“I’m y/n,” you answered shyly as you pushed a stray piece of hair out of your face and nearly slapped yourself when you realized you totally forgot to ask his. Before you could open your mouth, he had already beat you the punch and leaned back against the building with his arms crossed and a confident grin on his face. 

“So, y/n....do you come here often?”  

Danny:

The music was so loud that you were sure your head would burst. You could feel the beat of the music in your the center of your chest as you sipped on your drink. Your friend, y/f/n, was friends with a drummer for a pretty famous band and they extended an invitation to their house party to kick off their new album release. While you though Greta Van Fleet was a weird name for a rock n’ roll band, you did like their music.

Bob Seger blared through the house as you continued the search for your friend. The body heat from the crowd was coming off in waves and making you feel dizzy. You were just ready to leave, but you couldn’t leave your friend behind. A tap on your shoulder had you turning quickly coming face to face with a tall guy with long black hair who offered you a friendly smile.

“Hey! I’m Danny. I’m friend’s with y/f/n too! She’s been looking all over for you,” he yelled over the music as he pointed in the direction of your friend who was jumping up and down trying to get your attention. You and Danny laughed as some random guy with long hair and a pink shirt started doing the same thing to make fun of her. 

“That’s Sam. He’s my best friend. It’s getting to be a bit much in here, so we’re all going to step out for a few minutes if you would like to join. Unfortunately, I don’t know everyone here tonight and I don’t want to leave you by yourself,” Danny yelled over the music with a kind look on his face. 

“Yeah! That would be great! I was actually getting a bit overwhelmed, so I’m glad you’re here dude,” you shouted back as you placed your hand in the crook of his offered elbow. As you two made your way to the edge of the room where your friends were waiting, people stumbled over each other to get your way and were yelling and patting Danny on the back. A sudden realization ran through body as you felt your eyes widen at the idea that this was the Danny from Greta Van Fleet.

Sam: 

You and Ronnie had been best friends for as long as you two could remember which meant her brothers annoyed you as much as they did her. Throughout your high school years, you honestly didn’t have a crush on any of them but found their friendship to be as irreplaceable as Ronnie’s. 

Once they made their big debut, you didn’t see them often and you and Ronnie both attended different colleges. In fact, you had a once in a lifetime opportunity to study abroad and couldn’t pass it up.The miles between you and Ronnie didn’t matter and you talked every single day and normally face-timed too. Any updates on the boys came from her or Karen. You did miss hanging out in the garage on the weekends and playing pranks, but as the days turned into years, you didn’t think much more of it. 

Finally, you were able to go home for a much needed visit after your year abroad and apparently, Ronnie and the boys would be home at the same time too. Quickly, you all made plans to hang out at the first possible moment and you were jittery with excitement on your flight back to US. 

After taking a couple days to catch up on some much needed rest, you were finally able to go hang out at the Kiszka house. When you got there, you didn’t even knock on the door and waltzed straight into the living room like you had always done. Ronnie and the boys were sprawled all over the furniture with the exception of Danny who always preferred the floor. Hearing your entrance, Ronnie let out a scream as she lept over the back of the couch and literally sent you sprawling to the ground with her on top of you. 

“Okay-Ronnie-Ronnie! Let go of my neck! I can’t breathe,” you croaked out as the only Kiszka girl finally loosened her death grip and helped you up. All the boys got up next to give you a quick hug, but you noticed one missing. 

“Where’s Sammy,” you asked as your heard his feet hitting the steps on his way down. With a huge grin, he made his way over to get a hug, but you felt yourself swallow quickly as you willed yourself not to blush. Little Sammy had apparently grown up on tour and Sam was the one approaching you with his arms outstretched. Giving you a tight squeeze, you could smell his shampoo from his long hair and willed your heart to slow down. 

You had never had a crush on any of Ronnie’s brothers, but that had quickly changed in less than a minute. 

Jake:

The radio was still playing as you hung upside down in your car. Your seat belt was the only thing holding you in place. You could taste the blood in your mouth and salty tears and blood ran into your hairline. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins as you scanned your surroundings and tried to remember how you ended up in the current situation, but nothing immediately came to mind which made you cry harder. You were sobbing when you could hear voices drifting through the shattered windshield. 

Despite the pain in your ribs and the tightness of the seat belt, you let out a blood curdling screech that ended in hiccups and sobs. A few moments later, you heard hurried footsteps and gravel crunching..

“Josh! Call 911!”

“Damn! How are we going to get her out? Should we move her?”

“I don’t know! Did anyone get that license plate? She was ran off the road!”

The voices blurred together and your eyes felt heavy. They began to flutter shut when a guy with long hair and a worried expression stuck his head in your car from the busted passenger side window. 

“Hey! Stay awake! I know you’re tired, but you have to stay awake. What’s your name,” he asked gently as he wiggled into the car and grabbed on of your hands. The calluses were a drastic difference to your soft palms and he absentmindedly ran his thumb over the back of your hand. 

“Y/n. It’s y/n,” you stuttered out. 

“It’s nice to meet you. Help’s on the way, okay? I’m Jacob, but I go by Jake. I wish we had met in better circumstances, but you have super pretty eyes,” he said with a soft smile. 

“I’m scared, Jake,” you said as a new flood of tears ran into your hairline. 

“I know. I’m going to stay right here. You’re not alone. I promise,” Jake said with sincerity as he continued to comfort you. 

On the verge of bleeding out, you honestly were wondering if he wasn’t your guardian angel. 

[jukeboxjulian]

closed starter || julian x rory

“I’m telling you, Danny. I love the man, but Kevin wouldn’t know a subtle bass line if it slapped him in the face. We need something…”

Julian stopped mid-sentence as he peered over the shoulder of the customer in front of him. After living in San Francisco for six years and down the street from Jukebox Records for three, Julian had gotten to know almost everyone behind the counter at the coffee shop, bar, and store. It was safe to say, then, that meeting most newcomers caught him off-guard. He’d never been the best with socializing, even at one of his favorite record stores in the world.

This kind of confusion felt different than usual – new and exciting and scary at the same time. Julian tilted his head to the side as he locked eyes with the petite blonde barista behind the counter, wracking his brain in an attempt to remember if he’d met her before. He was sure he hadn’t – he’d certainly remember someone so striking.

His eyes traced the gentle curve of her lips and the small dimples that formed in her cheeks when she smiled. She was beautiful – almost arrestingly so – and Julian found himself feebly attempting to push his nerves to the back of his chest when she called him forward. Electricity thrummed through his veins as he met her eyes again. It took more than a moment for Julian to snap out of his daze and return himself to the aroma of warm coffee and fresh pastries. Breathing in deeply, he fiddled with his wallet awkwardly and looked up at the menu.

Julian always got the same thing here: a small cup of tea and occasionally a pastry when Lyra was working. It was clear that today was not the day for his usual order – the nerves bubbling in the pit of his stomach wouldn’t allow it. Julian cleared his throat awkwardly, finally looking back at the small blonde barista in front of him. “Hi…” he began, eying her nametag quickly before speaking again. “… Rory. Could I please have a, um…”

Jesus Christ. Pick something, Evans. Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, Julian looked back to the menu and spat out the first drink listed. “Um, oat… milk… latte…?”

Oat milk latte? You had to pick the thing farthest from tea?

Everything in Julian told him to speak up again – to clarify and ask Rory to make him his normal order. He’d already ordered, though, and he wasn’t about to make an even bigger fool of himself by walking back his already odd request. Taking a deep breath, he offered the girl a small smile and handed her his credit card. “Are you new here? I… haven’t seen you around. I mean… not that I work here. I don’t. I just come here a lot after work. I feel like I would remember if I met you, but maybe we just haven't crossed paths before. You’re really… um…”

Beautiful. You're really beautiful. Please stop talking now, Julian. Please.

His words trailed off and he looked down at the counter uncomfortably. Suddenly the room felt too hot. Julian wasn’t sure if he was sweating or if Rory could sense the heat rising within his cheeks. He couldn’t stop looking at her, studying all the little features of her that drew him in: her small, delicate hands, the shade of lipstick she wore, the way the sun hit her hair and turned it almost golden.

It hit Julian that he’d been standing at the register for what felt like forever. With an awkward shuffle, he stuffed a few dollars in the tip jar and gave Rory another smile. “Thanks, Rory. I like your lipstick, by the way,” he squeaked out, taking his number and making his way to his usual seat by the window. Popping a headphone in, Julian pressed play on his phone and let out a dejected sigh.

I like your lipstick? Who says that to a random girl? Are you some sort of pervert?

[throwitdanny]

[ DANIEL THOMPSON, 24, MALE, HE/HIM ] is here! They’ve lived in Silver Lake for [ 20 YEARS ] and are originally from [ JOSHUA TREE, CA ]. They are a [ BARISTA/POTTER ] and in their downtime love [ THROWING POTTERY ] and [ BOWLING ]. They look a lot like [ NICK ROBINSON ] and live [ IN OASIS APTS ]. (ooc: MT, 23, they/them, PST)

Here’s my official hello! I’m very excited to get to RP with all of y’all and’ll be hopping on some open starters but below is a couple of bullet points on Daniel semi organized for you to peruse if you’d like. 

Name is Daniel Thompson but goes by pretty much every shortening of Daniel there is though most of his friends call him Danny. 

24

Male

Danny identifies as homosexual and came out in high school receiving some backlash from his peers and some from his extended family though his immediate family supports him.

Born in Joshua Tree, CA moved to Silver Lake when he was four years old and his lived in Silver Lake since. 

Currently finishing his Bachelors in Arts & Science (subject to change). 

Is currently working at Intelligentsia as a barista and also sells his pottery on the side which can be found in many of the local shops in town. 

If you open up Danny’s fridge you’ll find 10 different condiments, hot dogs, Tecate, and leftover take out. Maybe a couple of day old pieces of cake from the coffee shop if he’s lucky.

Danny’s family all live in Silver Lake and he visits them a few times a month. His mother teaches hot room yoga and is friends with virtually anyone 45+ in Silver Lake. His father is a high school art teacher in Silver Lake (but not the high school Danny attended). Danny also has a 14 year old sister and due to the age gap the two aren’t terribly close. Both parents are generally support of their son’s decisions and fully support his artistic pursuits. 

Danny is a potter and tends to draw inspiration from the macabre and horror when working on passion projects though the stuff he sells is your typical artisan mugs, vases, dishes and he sells several pieces around town as well as at Intelligentsia. 

General lover of all the arts. 

He also enjoys bowling because everyone enjoys bowling even if they say they don’t. 

Despite being out since high school Daniel hasn’t had many romantic partners in his life. His longest relationship having only lasted two months (three weeks of which the guy was in Spain) back when he was 20. 

He tends to be on the quieter more thoughtful side and often finds himself to be more of a wallflower if he isn’t around his close friends (unless of course he’s had a copious amount of alcohol then all bets are off). 

Yes his favorite holiday is Halloween. 

TO BE ADDED TO.... maybe, maybe not. Only time will tell. 

[nebulastarr]

The Hangout- Chapter 1

Riley Hart moved to New York after her High School graduation. She wanted to get away from her family, so that's exactly what she did. The day after graduation, she cleared out her trust fund, packed her bags and moved to The Big Apple. She'd only lived in New York for a year and in that time she got herself an apartment overlooking the New York Skyline, toured most of the city, she even opened up her own coffee shop, The Hangout.

She expected, like all coffee shops, that it would be the go-to place for some of the teenagers in the city. That's why she named it The Hangout,  What she didn't expect was that it would be the go-to place for all the Heroes that lived in New York too.

Frank Castle, Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, Matt Murdock (who Riley later found out was Daredevil) and Danny Rand (who Riley would also find out was The Iron Fist) were only a few of the handful of heroes that frequented The Hangout. They Frequented The Hangout so much so that they became regulars. Coming in on days when there wasn't much going on in the city . Days, like today.

Matt, Frank, Jessica, Luke, and Danny came in and sat at their usual spot in the back. Their "usual spot" was four couches with a table in the middle. The 5 heroes were joined by some of their friends. Riley recognized Karen, Foggy, Claire, Colleen, Ward, Amy, Joy and Curtis. The person she didn't recognize was the man sitting between Frank and Curtis. She had never seen him here before, but then again Riley never saw any of them here before. She knew who their names and who they were, but they never came to The Hangout before. It had always been The Heroes and The Heroes alone. Until Today.

"Hey Guys, the usual?" Riley asked when she got to table. The usual was The Scarlet County Villain, or SC Villain for short. Whenever The Heroes came in. they ordered The SC Villain. It was their favorite drink. Danny even said as much one day after having his 4th one. "Yeah, the usual" Jessica said as Riley wrote down their order. Riley handed the slip to the barista, then took a seat at the table. Every time The Heroes came in, they always wanted Riley to sit with them. It was like this unspoken rule. They liked her, and because of that they were protective of her too.

"And who is this?" Riley asked, looking at the man sitting between Frank and Curtis. He was tall, had jet black hair, and dark eyes. "Oh this is Billy, Billy this is Riley" Frank said, introducing the two. "Nice to meet you" Riley said, shaking Billy's hand. "Nice to meet you too". He has a nice voice too, Riley thought.

Riley and The Heroes talked and laughed for hours. They would have talked a lot longer had Danny not gotten a text on his phone. " I'm sorry Riley but we have to go. Some jerks are trying to rob the bank on Bleecker Street" Danny said, getting up from his seat. The rest of The Heroes followed suit. They each hugged you as they went out the door.

Riley started to close up The Hangout when she realized that Billy was still there. "What are you still doing here?" she asked, looking at Billy. "Well I was gonna wait till you were finished so I could walk you home" he replied. "Oh, okay... just give me two more minutes" Riley said, putting up the last of the chairs.

Riley's apartment was only a few blocks from The Hangout. As they were walking, she noticed the height difference between her and Billy. She was just a tad shorter than him. It was only then that she noticed his arm was around her shoulder. "It this okay, because if it's not, I can stop" Billy said, looking at Riley. "No it's okay" Riley said, snuggling into Billy's side. She was cold and he was so warm.

She would have stayed like that for hours had they not already reached her apartment. "This is me" Riley said, leaning up from Billy's shoulder. "Oh Okay... I'll see you tomorrow then" he said, eyeing Riley up and down.

Riley opened her apartment door and set her purse and keys on the table. As she got into her lounging clothes, she was met with one thought:

What the hell just happened?

@stardancerluv

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 30)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 7.6k story words: 240k (so far) chapter: 30/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut, some depression genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: thanks to my one true love @auroraphilealis giving up whatever she was doing tonight to beta, even though she had a headache and unlimited lives on her fave mobile game of the moment xx 

Dan woke up early, groggy from jetlag. The hotel room was shrouded in dark shadows, and in his sleepy state, he couldn’t tell if it was from the thick curtains or if it was still dark outside. Whichever it was, it really made him not want to move — well, that and the warm weight of Phil’s arm wrapped around his waist and the soft, rhythmic tickle of Phil’s breath against the back of Dan’s neck. Sometime during the night, they’d shifted from their original position of Dan’s head on Phil’s chest. They hadn’t drifted far from each other, though. Somehow, they’d ended up spooning, and Dan secretly loved that even in their sleep, they’d wanted to stay close together.

But despite the serenity, worry nagged at the back of Dan’s mind, and he found himself itching to check his phone. He’d spent the majority of the plane ride ruminating about Isabella’s interview, his mind spiraling and dreaming up worst case scenarios. During the one hour of the flight he’d managed to sleep, he’d dreamed that Isabella had told everyone he’d cheated on her with Phil.

Luckily, last night he’d slept peacefully — he couldn’t imagine trying to film an interview in front of a live audience on a fitful night’s sleep. Dan suspected that Phil had something to do with why he’d slept so well, but now didn’t seem like the time to explore that thought.

Careful not to disturb Phil, Dan stretched forward to swipe his phone off the bedside table. He clicked it on, and was surprised to find that it was only half past seven — his alarm wasn’t due to go off for another half hour. Less surprising was the fact that there were already two text messages from Louise; it was five hours later there after all.

The messages had only come in an hour ago.

There was little doubt in Dan’s mind that the messages had something to do with Isabella’s interview, because Louise would have waited until a more reasonable time to text about anything else. Wiggling further back into Phil’s embrace, Dan took a deep breath and opened them.

Louise [6:28AM]: Tatler has already posted about the interview. They must have wanted to get it out fast, because it’s pretty much just a transcript, not a proper article. I’m going to read it now.

Louise [6:37AM]: You’re going to hate it. Honestly, it’s not that bad, there’s nothing so damning that you can’t fix it. But… you won’t like it :( Here’s the link: www.tatler.uk/18572650

“Fuck,” Dan muttered, apparently a little too loudly. Behind him, Phil stirred; his leg shifted, wrapping fully around Dan’s, and Phil pulled him in closer.

“What time’s it?” Phil asked, his voice deep and scratchy with sleep.

“Half seven,” Dan answered shortly.

“What’re you doin’ up?” Phil slurred. His hand dipped just inside the hem of Dan’s pyjama pants, his thumb stroking Dan’s bare hipbone. On any other morning, Dan was certain that this would be pleasant — peaceful even. But this morning, Dan’s mind couldn’t detach from the real world enough to enjoy the touch.

“Louise texted. The interview is up.” Even to his own ears, Dan’s voice sounded flat. Flat and tight.

The news seemed to affect Phil just as much as it had Dan. The gentle caress of Dan’s hip stopped abruptly, Phil’s hand gripping his waist tightly instead.

“How bad?” Phil asked warily.

Dan tipped his head slightly so that he could at least sort of see Phil. “Dunno yet. I haven’t read it. Louise said I wouldn’t like it, but it, and I quote, isn’t too bad and there’s nothing too damning.”

“That’s… contradictory.” Phil’s brows were furrowed; he looked just as confused as Dan felt.

“Fucking tell me about it,” Dan grumbled. Louise had never been one to sugar coat news about publicity, so he objectively knew this couldn’t be that horrific. But still, the fact that his best friend knew he’d hate what Isabella had to say… He had a feeling that meant that Izzy had probably gone for the jugular.

“Well,” Phil said with a sigh. “Should we read it?”

“Unfortunately,” Dan huffed. One hand dropped from his phone, reaching instead for Phil’s arm that was wrapped around his waist. Slowly, Dan slithered his hand down until his fingers linked with Phil’s. Looking over his shoulder, Dan’s eyes flickered back and forth between Phil’s. “Together?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course,” Phil agreed, leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to Dan’s forehead.

“Alright, here goes nothing.” With a sigh, Dan rolled back onto his side, and clicked the link Louise had sent. He felt Phil raise up on his elbow, his head hooking around Dan’s shoulder so he could read too. The page loaded, and Dan dove into reading, knowing that if he procrastinated at all, his anxiety might stop him from ever being able to read it.

—

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly of Love with Daniel Howell

This morning, I sat down with one of Tatler’s favorite models, Isabella De La Renta, to talk about her recent split from singer Daniel Howell (see here, here, and here for our past coverage of the shocking break up). For those curious, Isabella ordered a green tea (maybe inspired by her recent trip to China; see here for more details) and a yogurt parfait (no granola because she doesn’t eat carbs to maintain her perfect figure!). Isabella dished on everything from Dan’s shocking announcement about his sexuality (see his instagram post here) to how their relationship was going before their split.

You and Dan dated for a long time —

IDLR: Almost a year!

What’s life like now that you’re broken up?

IDLR: It’s been a hard adjustment. In so many ways, Dan was my best friend. It still feels weird to not be able to call him after a long day or to share good news.

I think it goes without saying that your breakup was a huge shock to your fans. Were you surprised?

IDLR: Yes and no. By the time we broke up, I knew it was the right thing to do, but if you asked me earlier this year, I never would have guessed. Just a few months ago, I went to Adalina’s birthday dinner — that’s Dan’s little sister — and his mum and I were talking about rings. His whole family was so welcoming and seemed really supportive of the idea of marriage.

Oh wow — rings. How did that come up?

IDLR: Dan’s mum was wearing a gorgeous diamond ring that he bought her for Christmas, and she made a point to tell me that. It was so clearly a sneaky way for him to get my opinion on what kind of rings I prefer. It was kind of sweet actually.

From ring talk to breaking up, that’s quite a change. You said that you knew breaking up was the right thing to do. Why was that?

For the first time since we sat down together, Isabella fell silent. Her eyes drifted out the window, and she was silent a long time. By the time she spoke again, her voice was choked up with tears and the model’s response was interrupted by delicate sniffles. It’s clear that this topic is still hard for her to talk about.

IDLR: We dated almost a year and, like I said, we were best friends. I thought I knew everything about Danny. And then in January, he told me he was attracted to guys, too. I really didn’t want it to affect our relationship, but I felt so betrayed that he’d kept such a big part of himself secret from me that it was hard to trust him anymore. In the end, I knew I couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t willing to be completely authentic with me.

Did you feel like he continued to be inauthentic with you after he came out to you?

IDLR: Yes, yes definitely. Dan assured me — just like he announced on his insta — that he’s bisexual. But after a year of dating him, and seeing how he is with a certain boy, I think maybe… maybe he’s not bisexual if you know what I mean.

Interesting. So what do you think that means about his relationship with you?

IDLR: Honestly, I feel really used. Before he told me about his sexuality, there were definitely moments where I felt like he was dating me for reasons he wasn’t letting on. But I never would have guessed it was a coverup for being gay.

I don't think any of us anticipated that! How did Dan handle the breakup?

IDLR: He really didn’t want to break up — he asked me several times to reconsider. I think he liked being able to show the world that he had a girlfriend, and ultimately, we did have a lot of fun together. Even if it did turn out to be not genuinely based on sex or romance.

Since you teased about it, will you tell us what the sex was like?

IDLR: Nosey nosey! For a while, it was good — maybe because it was new or him exploring or whatever. But that must have worn off or something. For the last few months, he wasn’t interested in it at all. He’d always find an excuse to get out of it, and the few times he didn’t… well, let’s just say it didn’t work and it wasn’t my fault. That was really hard to come to terms with and I felt so rejected.

That would be difficult for anyone to handle.

IDLR: I feel like it was extra hard for me because I’ve, like, never been rejected like that before. I grew up always being the pretty girl that everybody wanted, so to have Danny not want me in that way… Well, that’s when I knew for sure that he wasn’t bi, and realized our whole relationship was totally fake and I was just his… beard.

His beard — wow. That’s not something you hear much anymore.

IDLR: Maybe people are just better at keeping secrets now. Besides, it doesn’t take a genius to notice that I’m the only public relationship Dan’s had. Why else do you think that would be, if it wasn’t that all his lovers were men?

I asked Isabella if she had any final things to say about Daniel Howell, and she left us with this powerful message:

“Danny had me fooled for almost a year, and we were closer than I thought two people could be. Don’t hesitate to think that he might be fooling you too.” -IDLR.

—

“Fuck fuck fucking fuck!” Dan cursed. Every single word in the article was complete bullshit, but that quote at the end — that quote was the final fucking straw. How fucking dare Isabella twist the story like that, and then use her twisted, fucked up version of events to make everyone question everything he was going to say?

Adrenaline was coursing through Dan’s veins, and he couldn’t possibly stay still for another second. Dan chucked his phone towards the foot of the bed, not bothering to check if it landed safely — it was cracked anyway — and abruptly lunged out of Phil’s arm.

Pent up energy was eating at him, making him itch to move, so he began pacing their room. With vehement quickness, Dan marched up and down the small aisle between the foot of the bed and the dresser, pacing from the sofa to the bathroom and back, over and over and over.

“Fuck her, fuck her, that fucking cunt!” Dan spat, bringing one hand up to tug roughly at his tangled curls.

“Dan, I know you’re pissed off, but —” Phil started to say, but Dan wasn’t having any of it. He just barely glanced over, only fleetingly noting that Phil had pushed himself up to a sitting position and was now leaning forward like he wanted to say something.

“Pissed off?” Dan asked incredulously with a bitter laugh. Pissed off didn’t even begin to describe how Dan felt right now — he was downright livid, and he literally could not remember a single time where he’d been more upset than this. Not when his dad had sold his car without his permission, not when a group of obnoxious young fans had tried to harass Adaline for information, not when an unreleased, private song had accidentally been released to the public.

This — this was a whole new fucking level of anger, and there was only one way Dan knew how to cope with it.

Music.

He wanted everyone to know that Isabella was the one trying to fool the world, that Isabella was the one lying out of her ass. And what better way to do it than singing a song that practically screamed how fucked up Isabella’s behavior had been?

And if he sang it tonight, just hours after Isabella’s interview was released, people would know he’d written it beforehand — it would be at least one piece of evidence that would corroborate his version — the real version — of the story.

“That bitch isn’t getting away with this,” Dan muttered fiercely. His hands were clenched into tight fists at his side, his breaths coming in harsh huffs.

“Don’t do anything too rash, Dan,” Phil half-heartedly pleaded from the bed. The words knocked Dan out of his thoughts, and he froze mid-pace to spin around and face Phil.

“It’s not considered rash if I already planned on releasing the song at some point, right?” He raised his eyebrows pointedly.

Phil narrowed his gaze, though, eyeing Dan carefully. “I thought you said you only had one song you could perform without the backup band?”

Dan narrowed his eyes. He understood Phil’s rebuttal — Dan had told Phil that there was only one song he could play with just his guitar. My My My was Dan’s only acoustic song. But that didn’t mean it was the only song he could play without having his full backup band with him.

“Well, technically,” he admitted slowly. “But I do have another song — a perfect song — that’s basically ready. The band’s already recorded the instrumental parts, so I could just sing to that,” Dan suggested tentatively.

To Dan’s surprise, Phil pouted at the news. His bottom lip stuck out pitifully, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I thought my song was perfect?” he whined.

The anger that had been curling at Dan’s edges receded slightly, utter adoration for the man in front of him creeping into its place. Despite the urge to retaliate against Isabella’s accusations, Dan found his entire body, his entire demeanor, softening. Phil was so cute, and yet so petulant, that Dan couldn’t help melting. There was a happy glint in Phil’s eyes that was never there when Isabella had pouted at Dan, a spark that told Dan that this was different.

Before Dan could process his own actions, he was moving again, this time walking with purpose towards Phil and coming to a stop at the very edge of the bed.

Reaching out, Dan cupped Phil’s face in his palms, tilting his head up until their eyes met.

“Of course your song is perfect, Philly,” Dan reassured him with a soft smile. “But I wrote My My My, and the rest of your songs for that matter, when I was happy and giddy and in—” Dan paused, a hot flush rising to his cheeks. “Well. When I wasn’t in this kind of mood. And I’d rather the world didn’t hear any of them for the first time with this mood tainting it.”

For a moment, Phil just held Dan’s gaze. Dan raised his brows hopefully, almost pleading for Phil’s sad look to go away. But then Phil’s pouted melted, and a small smile replaced it instead. A part of Dan — a bigger part of him than he’d like to admit, really — was surprised at how quickly Phil’s pout had disappeared, even if the pout had only been joking in the first place. After a year with Isabella, Dan was used to fucking groveling if he wanted those sad looks to go away without sex.

“The rest of my songs?” Phil marveled, a hint of astonishment lacing his voice and a pink blush tainting his cheeks.

“Yes you loser, the rest of your songs.” Dan huffed, but not bothering to hide an enamoured grin.

“I didn’t know there was more than just the one,” Phil said softly, a note of awe in his voice.

“Did you even listen to the concept of the album?” Dan shook his head and rolled his eyes. Humor and fondness were seeping into his words no matter how hard he tried to sound serious; it didn’t matter that he’d been delirious with anger fifteen seconds ago, something about this boy managed to swing his mood to the polar opposite in the flicker of a second. “Wanting you, getting you… doesn’t that imply a bare minimum of two songs?” Dan teased, quirking an eyebrow and running one hand along the short, buzzcut side of Phil’s hair.

Isabella wasn’t right, he wasn’t gay, but he definitely reveled in how much of a boy Phil was.

“I mean,” Phil’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, his mouth pulling into a broad grin. Through his teeth, Phil’s tongue continued poking out of his mouth, and for once, his hand didn’t shoot up to hide it. “I guess I objectively figured that. But I didn’t, like… know. For sure, I mean.”

“You’re a dork, but I like you anyway,” Dan teased with a smirk.

Leaning down, Dan closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against Phil’s. The kiss was soft, almost chaste, at first, but the adrenaline that had been plaguing Dan must not have settled yet. The gentle kiss quickly grew heated, Dan’s mouth parting and his tongue darting out to lick along Phil’s bottom lip.

The soft whine Phil let out made Dan grin smugly.

“Before I call Lou about the song change, I need to shower and cool down,” Dan panted against Phil’s mouth after a moment, only drawing far enough back to mumble the words. Tipping his head forward, Dan captured Phil’s lips once more, playfully, sucking Phil’s bottom lip between his own, and letting his teeth graze along the sensitive skin just inside of Phil’s mouth. “Come with me?”

Hot staccatoed breaths fanned across Dan’s face as Phil chuckled, chasing Dan’s mouth to press a final, chaste kiss to his lips. “I’m pretty sure me showering with you will do the opposite of helping you cool down,” Phil teased.

“But Phi-illllll,” Dan whined, his voice several octaves higher than normal. Childish petulance seemed to take over Dan, and he stomped his foot on the ground, tugging pointedly at Phil’s hair.

“But D-annnn,” Phil mocked, his voice somehow even higher than Dan’s. Smirk on his face, Phil lightly shook Dan by the hips.

Actions speak louder than words, or so everyone said, so rather than replying, Dan opted to slide his hands from Phil’s cheeks down down down until he’d landed on Phil’s hips. Even then, Dan didn’t stop; one hand drifted farther, slipping into the hem of Phil’s pants. His fingers grazed Phil’s hipbone, creeping farther and farther back towards Phil’s arse.

Dan wiggled his eyebrows and licked his lips in what he hoped was a suggestive manner. “Come on,” he said gruffly, his hand lightly squeezing what he could reach of Phil’s arse.

“I’ll tell you what,” Phil started with a mischievous glint in his eye, shaking his head at Dan’s offer but smirking all the while. “I promise we’ll do something fun when you’re done filming the show.”

Lips pursed, Dan raised his brows skeptically. “Why can’t we do something fun later and now? It seems unnecessarily cruel for you to lounge in bed and leave me to wank in the shower,” he whined.

“Jesus christ, Dan,” Phil muttered, his eyes squeezing shut. Against his hips, Dan could feel the way Phil’s fingers dug in, he could see the way Phil’s entire body tensed. Everything about Phil’s demeanor made Dan confident that Phil would cave, if not now, then soon.

It took a moment, but Phil opened them again, although he didn’t quite meet Dan’s eye. “We both know if I come with you, we’ll both get absurdly distracted.”

“So?” Dan asked petulantly, sticking his lip out this time.

“So!” Phil huffed, exasperated. “You have a big day today and should focus on that. Besides, I should really call my mum.”

Dan wrinkled his nose, horrified at the change in subject. “Your mum? Are you really dragging your mum into this to turn me off?”

“Shut up, you twat.” Phil rolled his eyes, finally tipping his head far enough back to meet Dan’s gaze again. “My mum’s only request is that I text her if I leave the time zone, and now we’ve traveled through like six, so I think I owe her a call.”

“Yikes,” Dan cringed, his face scrunched up in horror. “You should have called her from the aeroport or something!” Dan tapped Phil’s shoulder impatiently, trying to get his point across.

Phil smiled softly, one hand reaching up to still Dan’s hand, trapping it against Phil’s neck. “I didn’t wanna leave you alone,” he said warmly, his other thumb grazing over Dan’s hipbone.

“Ugh,” Dan recoiled instantly, his nose wrinkling up in disgust. He wrangled his hand out of Phil’s grip, lightly swatting him on the shoulder. “Gross,” Dan whined, but his lips were drawn into a beaming smile.

Phil flicked Dan’s shoulder with his free hand, and flashed him a cheeky grin. “Shut up and go shower, Howell.”

“Fuck you too, Lester,” Dan pouted.

“You can do whatever you want later,” Phil teased coyly, his hand dipping into Dan’s pants to squeeze the top of his arse. Even knowing that Phil wasn’t going to accompany him to the shower, Dan couldn’t help but arch back into Phil’s touch.

“Fine, but you better believe I’m taking you up on that promise,” Dan griped, taking a minute step backward.

“Good,” Phil said with a shameless smile. “I hoped you would.”

********************

As much as Dan had resented having to get himself off with a rushed and mediocre handjob in the shower when he had a perfectly good, sexy boyfriend right outside the door, Phil had been right. From the minute Dan had gotten out of the shower — literally, he actually got out early because Louise was ringing — until the time Dan had been plopped down in a makeup chair in a small dressing room, he’d been having non-stop conversations about logistics and planning. Between Louise, his record label, and the Tonight Show coordinators, Dan barely had time to breathe — much less fuck around in the shower.

All the planning had been good though. It kept his mind busy and held his nerves at bay — until now.

Now, as some random woman dabbed foundation onto Dan’s face, there was nothing to do other than let his mind wander. Phil had ducked out a few minutes ago, going on a quest for decent coffee for Dan. While Dan really did want some tolerable caffeine, he was beginning to regret letting Phil be the one to get it.

Phil’s grounding chatter had disappeared, and along with it, so had Dan’s composure. Nerves had settled deep in the pit of his stomach and were slowly taking over his whole body. Sure, Dan had been given a run-down of topics Jimmy would hit on — and allowed to veto any he was uncomfortable with — but the gravity of what he was about to do, what he was about to talk about on national television, was weighing on him.

The makeup artist finished with the foundation and grabbed a natural-looking dark brown mascara from the pot. “Look up, please,” she instructed.

Dan eyed the brown mascara — mascara that was basically almost the exact same shade as his own eyelashes. Something about it didn’t feel right tonight, and he couldn’t quite keep his gut from screaming about it. This whole week was a movement towards being more authentic, and in a sudden moment of brazenness, Dan interrupted the makeup woman.

“Actually —” Dan paused. Stalled in hesitation, his tongue darting out to nervously wet his lower lip. Fuck it. Tonight was about making a statement. A big, loud and proud statement. He wasn’t going to half-ass it. “Can you do some eyeliner first? And maybe the black mascara?” The words came out more unsure than he’d wanted them to, and his hand was shaky as he pointed to the most dramatic tube, but he’d asked all the same. That’s what counted.

Dan expected the woman to be surprised, to balk at his request for something more feminine than she was offering. But to his surprise, she smiled broadly and gushed, “Of course!” as she pulled a small bag out of her kit. “What kind of look are you going for? Something subtle that will bring out your eyes? Or something more dramatic like the mid-2000s emo trend?”

“Um…” Dan floundered, suddenly doubting his decision — he didn’t want either of those options. Eyes fluttering closed, Dan listened to Adaline’s voice in his head saying one deep breath and then do the thing that scares you. “Neither,” he said as he met the makeup artist’s gaze with a defiant stare. This time, his voice wasn’t trembling or uncertain. It was strong. Confident.

The makeup artist’s head tilted slightly, and her lips quirked up into a small grin. “Okay, tell me what you’d like.”

Dan’s gaze drifted to his reflection in the mirror, his eyes tracing over the features of his face. “Nothing too dramatic, but I want it to be… noticeable.” He contemplated his long lashes and the dark brown of his eyes. “Something… pretty.”

“I can definitely do pretty!” The woman assured him with bubbly enthusiasm. “What are your thoughts about a bit of highlighter and bronzer to make those cute cheeks pop?”

A warm blush flushed Dan’s cheeks, and he looked down at his lap to hide his smile. He was flustered. Not from her calling him cute, but from the fact that someone other than Louise was willing to indulge his interest in makeup.

“Yeah,” Dan agreed softly, glancing up to meet the woman’s gaze in the mirror. “Whatever you think will look nice.”

Mesmerized, Dan watched as the woman pulled palette after palette out of her bag, opening and closing them as she seemed to debate which products to use. It was all so much nicer than the kid’s kit he’d bought Darcy, and so much more than the small stock Adaline used to have in her bathroom drawers.

The woman brushed powders over his cheeks, some feeling like they were almost down to his chin, some feeling like the went all the way up to his eye. Having his makeup done — proper makeup, not just stage makeup — was more nerve-wracking than Dan had anticipated, and he forced himself to avert his eyes anywhere but his own reflection. If he saw himself before she’d finished, he worried that he’d lose his courage; it was better to wait until the whole thing was done, then it would be harder to derail.

And maybe it’d look nice enough that he wouldn’t want to.

He reached out for one of the untouched palettes and opened it, only to find an array of greys and whites and blacks, some shimmery, some matte, and some straight up glitter. They were pretty — prettier than he thought he thought makeup could be, honestly.

“What’s this?” he asked, raising the palette a bit so the woman could see.

“Eyeshadow. Do you want some of that, too?” She asked it like it was the simplest question in the world, not like Dan was taking a rather large step in his slow but steady defiance of gender roles and heteronormativity.

His eyes lingered on one glittery grey powder, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly like a gaping fish.

After a moment’s hesitation, he weakly responded, “I think… not today.”

The makeup artist considered him for a second before plucking the palette out of his hands. “It’s up to you, of course, but we could do something really subtle. Maybe like this?” She spun the palette around so Dan could see it again, and pointed to one of the lightest options, a pale white with the faintest of shimmer. Dan didn’t know much about makeup, but he doubted the color would even show up on his skin.

“Does that even count as a color?” he asked doubtfully.

“It’s more of an accent, usually.” The makeup artist shrugged. “But if we swept it across your eyelids, the light shimmer would catch in the light and it would look nice. Barely noticeable if you weren’t looking for it, but nice.”

Dan hesitated again, his fingers tapping the table in front of him as he considered her offer. For some reason, eyeshadow — even eyeshadow that was basically nonexistent — seemed like a bigger step than eyeliner and something to accent his cheeks.

“Here,” the makeup artist said in a soothing voice, almost as if she sensed his apprehension. Without waiting for a response from Dan, she pulled a brush out of her toolkit and reached for Dan’s hand. “I’ll swipe it on your hand so you can see what it looks like on your skin first.”

“Oh!” Dan breathed, astonished. The idea of testing it somewhere hadn’t occurred to him at all, and he was suddenly realizing how fucking little he knew about makeup. Pliantly, Dan let her guide his hand towards her, and he felt his cheeks heat up again as she swiped the brush against the inside of his wrist. It tickled far more than he’d thought it would — not necessarily a bad thing, though. The sensation only lasted a few seconds before she released his hands and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Slowly, tentatively, Dan lowered his arm, flipping it up so that he could see the soft, paler skin on the inside of his wrist.

In the end, the powder she’d applied was so light that he almost couldn’t see it. It wasn’t until he tilted his arm back and forth that he was able to see how the powder caught the light. She was right — it was just a faint shimmer, one he might not notice if he wasn’t trying to find it.

Still, the barely-there glitter was hypnotizing, and he found himself unable to look away.

“It’s so pretty,” he breathed, more to himself than to the woman.

“I’ll put it on your eyes, then,” she said definitively, leaving no room for Dan to refuse. “If you hate it, it’s easy to take off,” she added, softer this time, as she pointed to a packet labeled makeup wipes. Dan nodded, letting her do as she pleased.

As he pleased.

Tonight’s interview wasn’t a now or never moment — there would be plenty of other opportunities to make the statements he wanted to make — but it felt just as heavy. This appearance, this interview on The Tonight Show, was his first deliberate appearance after coming out just two nights before. Big gestures, actions that spoke louder than words — those had always mattered to Dan. Deep in his gut, something about this moment — a moment when he knew the largest possible audience would be watching — was calling for a grand display, and he was determined to do it justice.

“Go on then,” Dan whispered, taking a deep breath and then closed his eyes.

The tickling sensation felt different on his eyelids, but it still made his skin prickle in the same pleasant way. It was gentler and far more precise than when Darcy had tried to do it, and some part of Dan — a part of himself that he didn’t fully understand — relished the soft caress of the brush.

Truth be told, he didn’t quite know what to make of the fact that he liked the makeup brush — and the makeup — so much.

He liked being a boy, that much he knew. He liked his body, he liked his identity. But he didn’t necessarily like the box that society tried to confine him with. There were some things, some things that were traditionally labeled as for girls, that he wanted to be able to embrace on occasion.

And as the soft bristles brushed glimmer powder across his skin, Dan knew this was a particular box he wanted to break out of every now and again.

The brush disappeared, and Dan started to open his eyes, but was interrupted by a fierce cry from the makeup artist. “Wait!” she exclaimed hurriedly. “I want you to get the full effect before you decide!”

Dan clamped his eyes shut again, inhaling another long breath. “Okay, just tell me what to do then.” Nerves and excitement both chewed at his stomach, fighting for dominance. At this point, he wasn’t sure which was going to win out. He just hoped this wonderful makeup artist was fucking magical and could give him the confidence to actually do this.

“Just keep your eyes shut,” she instructed. Dan huffed out his breath, keeping his eyes tightly shut. “Well, okay a little looser than that,” the makeup artist chuckled, her thumb lightly brushing over Dan’s eyelid.

Dan did his best to relax his face and let whatever was going to happen, happen. If worse came to worst, he could have her take it off.

The sweeping, soft tickle of the brush disappeared, and suddenly a more pointed, but not quite harsh, touch replaced it. The touch sweeped right alone his eyelid, just barely dipping out onto his temple. Late night youtube binges told him that this was probably eyeliner — and that it was probably some amount of a wing (a term he only knew after three consecutive hours of Manny MUA).

After just another drag of what felt like a pen, the makeup artist prompted, “You can open now.”

For once, Dan didn’t hesitate tonight. He knew whatever he saw, it’d probably be nice. Even if he didn’t want to wear it on television, he’d interacted with this girl long enough to trust that whatever she had done was at least worthy of a private selfie before he had her remove it.

But when Dan opened his eyes, he was greeted with the lightest, gentlest glow on his eyelids, and eyeliner that was just this side of dramatic. It wasn’t wings, not in the way he’d seen on youtube binges. But it also wasn’t just eyeliner accentuating the natural line of his eye. The eyeliner stretched out from the corner of his eye, just a hair, forming into a subtle point — nothing large enough to be truly loud, but enough to be definitively there.

Dan opened his mouth to say something, but the words got caught in his mouth. To his great annoyance, he felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes — tears he was determined to not let fall. With rough determination, he forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat, and cleared his voice before he tried to speak again.

“It’s great,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving his own eyes in the mirror. “Thanks.”

“Well let me put mascara on so you can get the full effect,” the woman said cheekily, waving a black tube in front of his face.

“Oh!” Dan gasped. Right — mascara. That was what had started this whole accidental makeup binge. “Go ahead, then,” Dan agreed.

He shifted his gaze up, prying his eyes open and forcing himself not to blink. The pull of the wand against his eyelashes was much more familiar — mascara was a pretty common part of stage makeup, a bit of makeup that was socially acceptable for guys to wear under certain conditions.

He loved that she was applying it after having put eyeshadow and eyeliner on.

“Okay, now tell me what you think.”

Dan’s eyes fluttered open again, appraising himself carefully in the mirror. The whole look seemed completed now that she’d added mascara. His eyes popped and his cheekbones seemed much more prominent than normal, the light reflecting off them more than usual. It wasn’t anything too radically different from how he normally looked, but still. The makeup was very clearly present. It was exactly what he’d wanted.

“Thank you,” he murmured softly, his eyes staying fixed on his reflection.

“Here,” the artist said, nudging something hard into his bicep. “You should keep this.”

Dan broke his own gaze, his eyes flitting down to his arm. In the woman’s hand was the eyeshadow palette, the one that was filled with shimmery and matte monochrome powders.

“I — I couldn’t, that’s yours,” Dan stumbled in surprise.

“I want you to have it.” She offered him a kind smile and set the palette down in his lap. “I can tell you like the colors.” Knocking her shoulder against Dan’s, she smiled softly and held his gaze in the mirror.

“Still —” Dan started, not quite knowing where his rebuttal was going, just knowing he felt guilty about taking something that probably cost decent money from someone. He swallowed thickly, glancing from the artist to the palette and back up again. “I could buy my own or something.”

“I know,” she said softly, shrugging. Her eyes met his in the mirror, holding his gaze steadily. “But now you don’t have to go find the courage to do that right away. Have fun with it, see what you think.”

Dan stared down at the dozen shades of white, grey, and black, at a loss for how to use them. “I — I barely know what to do with eyeshadow, much less this many of them.” Dan sheepishly looked up at the woman, not feeling nearly worthy of such a gift.

“There are loads of youtube videos.” The woman chuckled as she dug around in her purse. “But here, take my card and we can have a little skype if you don’t know what to do.”

“Wow,” Dan mumbled, numbly reaching out for the card and blankly staring at the bold black letters spelling Sofia Ricci against the stark white background. “Okay, um, I might take you up on that.”

“Good,” Sofia said definitively. “Now about those nails.”

Dan’s eyes shot down to his hands at the completely random observation, his eyes raking over his still matte-silver fingertips. His brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of Sofia’s comment.

“What about them?” he huffed, borderline offended as he glanced back up at her.

“I noticed some of them were smudged, and I was going to offer some nail polish remover, but…” Sofia trailed off, her eyes flickering down to her bag.

“But what?” Dan pushed when she didn’t finish her thought, eyes narrowed.

Bending over, Sofia dug through her bag for a second before holding out a small bottle of black nail polish in front of Dan. “Well, I thought maybe I could add some little designs over the smudges instead?”

Their eyes met in the mirror and Dan felt his heart fucking swell at how kind and supportive Sofia looked. Half an hour ago, she had just been a random makeup woman. And twenty minutes ago, she’d been offering to dress him up like Gerard Way à la 2006. But since then, she’d morphed into a supportive ally, someone who seemed to genuinely encourage Dan’s interest in all of… this.

“Hearts,” Dan said decisively, placing his hands on the table with purpose.

Sofia’s expression softened, a smile hinting at her lips. “Sure thing,” she assured as she unscrewed the black bottle with an air of confidence. Silently, she dipped a toothpick into the polish and gestured for Dan’s hand. Gently but confidently, she spread his fingers against the counter and began dotting the toothpick with intense concentration.

Somehow, the resolute attention that Sofia was giving to Dan’s nails was wildly different from the manicurist that Dan had occasionally gone to over the last few years. Sofia knew she was prepping Dan to go out in front of a massive public audience, Sofia was painstakingly painting delicate designs on Dan’s nails, Sofia was gently pushing Dan to be as authentic as he felt comfortable being.

Dan forced himself to look anywhere but his nails while Sofia worked. The whole nail polish thing — or at least wearing it in public — was new enough that it was still nerve-wracking, but he could still recall how lovely his nails had looked after the manicurist finished them earlier this week.

And he could perfectly remember the reverent look on Phil’s face when he’d noticed.

Sofia painted in silence for a few minutes, working her way through Dan’s entire right hand before she spoke again. The sound of her voice startled Dan enough that he glanced over at her.

“So,” she started tentatively. “I feel like I should confess that I saw your instagram post.”

Dan froze. “Oh,” he said, the one syllable coming out tight and short.

“I really liked it,” Sofia added softly, sounding far more tentative than she had since they’d been introduced.

Dread washed over Dan as he slowly began to process the meaning behind Sofia’s words — she clearly followed him on Instagram. She was probably a fan. In his experience, no secrets were safe with fans — that’s why he’d always had pretty much anyone he let close sign an NDA.

He hadn’t even hesitated with Sofia, though — and that was about to be his downfall. His interest in makeup was probably destined to be broadcasted all over the covers of the tabloids by this time tomorrow.

Frozen, Dan stared at himself in the mirror, unable to properly look at Sofia. Unfortunately, this meant he was forced to watch the way horror and fear flooded his own eyes. The terror was plainly written on his face, and it was impossible for Sofia not to notice it, too.

“Fuck — I mean, uh, frick, I mean —” Sofia stopped her dotting of his nails, instead looking up at him like a deer in headlights.

The expression was so startled, so genuine, that a little bit of Dan’s fears ebbed away. She looked so genuinely taken aback, so honestly scared of Dan’s reaction to what she’d said, that Dan couldn’t help but question if his worries were misplaced.

“Cursing is fine Sofia,” Dan assured her, his voice tighter than he wanted it to be. He drug his tongue along his bottom lip, trying to decide how much he wanted to allow. His eyes flickered to the eyeshadow palette and then to the business card on the table. He decided to take a leap of faith. “Just say whatever you want to say.”

“Right,” Sofia mumbled and flushed red, clearly embarrassed. “I just meant, I liked it… like, as a fan, it was good to see, but…” Her eyes didn’t quite meet Dan’s as she trailed off.

“...But?” Dan prompted, heart racing.

“But, as a fellow bisexual, it was the best post I’ve seen all year.”

“Oh,” Dan breathed, blinking rapidly in surprise. “I — I…”

Suddenly words seemed impossible to Dan — something that wasn’t exactly great since he was supposed to be talking about this very topic on national television in less than an hour. But he had hardly expected his makeup artist to broach this conversation with him (and he definitely hadn’t expected to ask for fucking eyeshadow from her).

“Sorry, I made it weird,” Sofia apologized, her gaze dropping back to her hands as she started steadily dotting another heart on Dan’s nails.

“No!” Dan exclaimed more forcefully than intended. “I mean, no,” he corrected, voice softer this time. “It’s not weird.”

Peeking up from Dan’s nails, Sofia caught his gaze in the mirror. “It’s not?”

“No. I — I didn’t realize until I came out how little bisexual representation there was out there.” Dan’s gaze flickered from Sofia’s gaze to his nails as he contemplated the decision he was making — the decision he’d technically already made. But with every word, the decision felt like more and more of an active choice. “And now… well, it doesn’t seem fair for us to keep being alone.”

“Thank you,” Sofia said softly, a hint of disbelief in her voice that Dan so desperately wished didn’t have to be there. That doubt wouldn’t exist if more people spoke up, if more people were authentic and tried to live their truth. “From all of us. It’s hard not seeing people like ourselves in the media, so what you’re doing… it means a lot.”

“Every listener I have is going to know that bisexuality is a real thing if I can help it,” Dan asserted, voice fierce for the first time that night.

“That’s the spirit,” Sofia whispered conspiratorially.

Dan nodded once, not saying anything else.

Of all the conversations he’d imagined having just before filming The Tonight Show, this certainly wasn’t one of them. But now that it had happened, it felt exactly like the conversation he’d needed — a conversation to remind him why he was so passionate about professing his bisexuality. Passion that stemmed from somewhere deeper, somewhere more important that Isabella’s whiny slander.

a/n2: look i was gonna have the interview in this chapter but i got fucking excited and carried away, okay? 

[queerchoicesblog]

Un Poco Loco (ILB, Danni x M!MC)

Hello lovelies! This fanfic was requested by @darley1101: as much as I still headcanon Danni with a female MC, I had fun writing this :) Hope you won’t be disappointed, my friend!

So, Jaime (MC) moved back to Northbridge after the events of ILB but he’s back to Pine Springs for a special event….and has a surprise for his girlfriend Danni.

Prompt: "Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?”

Word Count: 932

Perma tag: @brightpinkpeppercorn @psychopathdreamer21 @abunchofbadchoices @bbaba-yagaa @silverhawkenzie @begging-for-kamilah @melodyofgraves @bhavf 

(I’ll add @esteladannishreyakamilah since I know you’re a huge Danni stan, am I right? Feel free to ignore this if you’re not interested!)______________________________

Danni was editing her photos for her latest Clickit assignment at the coffee shop on Lakeview. It took a few to rebuild it after the flooding but the community seemed to love that place and some even volunteered so that they could speed up the process. More precisely, Danni was counting down the hours before embracing her boyfriend. After the happenings of that summer, Jaime moved back to Northbridge and Hartfeld. He went back for his fall semester and to start anew away from all the painful memories that surrounded his family house in Pine Springs. He and Elliott tried to stay there but soon showed up at Danni's door with dark circles under their eyes and a pleading look on their faces. They kept having nightmares back there. And Jaime was concerned with Elliott's own safety: 'he's all I have now, he's my family now...I only want him to be safe", he said her one night, his voice shaking. In the end, after talking with the group, Jaime decided to leave but promised to visit whenever possible. Elliott didn’t follow him: he was too shaken to leave Pine Springs behind and decided to stay and take care of their Grandpa who was still slowly recovering from the injuries he got during the flood in a medical facility nearby. Elliott, hosted by Imogen, and Danni were still there so part of Jaime's heart was anchored in Pine Springs. He and Elliott spent the Thanksgiving and the Christmas holidays with their friends. They were invented over Danni's parents on Christmas Day and he was officially introduced to the family. Elliott kept teasing in for ages saying that his face was redder than a tomato. Today it was Imogen's birthday and he assured everyone that he wouldn't have missed such a glorious party. But he was nowhere to be found, Danni thought,  frowning. She missed Jaime badly. In the end, she collected her things and walked home, headphones in her ears, hoping to hear from his boyfriend soon. She was almost there when a guy in a denim jacket with a heavy backpack crossed her path. Danni kept paying attention to the lyrics of her favorite song and only noticed that the scent that guy was wearing was oddly familiar. It must be the one I bought Jaime for Christmas, she thought.

She kept walking but the guy followed her. He backpedaled and crossed her path again, forcing Danni to stop. "Hey do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?" he said, smirking. "Listen cabron-" Danni started, but froze when she saw his face. "Jaime?!" "The one and only" He took off his sunglasses and spun. "I was going to the coffee shop since you weren't home but then I saw this beautiful girl walking down the street and I just had to turn on my charm" "Jaime we've been dating for months, you don't exactly have to...hit on me or whatever you were trying to do" "We'll have to agree to disagree on this" he crossed his arms smiling down at her. Danni mirrored him and sighed. "Yo creo que tu eres un poco loco, mi amor" "Loquito por ti, mi corazon" he replied, smiling. Danni giggled. "Now what? Are you taking Spanish classes?" He kept quiet for a moment. Then he took her hands into his and placed a kiss on them. "As a matter of fact, yes" Danni gaped. "I was just kidding, Jaime! Are you serious?" "Dead serious! When I came back to Hartfeld, I changed my career plan and added Spanish Language and Hispanic Studies. The classes are nice and you remember I told you about that friend of mine who works as a barista? Zig? He's helping me out with some extra practice during the weekends" he explained. "I didn't say anything when I came back earlier because...well, I guess you could say I wanted it to be a surprise" he added, shyly. "And why you..." "I study Foreign Languages and you speak Spanish. It just made sense to me. I want to know more about your culture, speak Spanish with you sometime, with your family as I care for them too...and hopefully understand what your abuelita has to say when I ask her to tell me all the embarrassing stories about baby Danni" Danni chuckled before wrapping her arms around him.

“Funny how it hasn’t crossed your mind that I will talk to my abuelita first, you dork!” she teased him before turning serious.

“But seriously, Jaime...if you’re doing this for me, this is...well no one has ever done anything like that for me. I-I don’t know what to say” she said cuddling up to him.

“You’ re worth it, Danni” he whispered, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

Then he lifted her chin with one finger and smiled affectionately at her.

“As much as I hate to bring this up, we should probably get ready for Imogen’s party”

Danni sighed deeply.

“Yeah, you’re right, J...” 

Then she added, snaking an arm around his waist and walking to the front door of her house:

“But we will continue this conversation after the party if you don’t mind”.

A shy smile formed on her lips as her cheeks turned rosy. She still couldn’t believe what Jaime just revealed her. “Mijita, this guy is a keeper, trust me!” her mother said when the Vance’s brothers left her family house a couple of days after Christmas...Danni never doubted that but at that very moment, she couldn’t agree more with her mother.

[writehardwhumpharder]

Carson Story - Chapter One

Hey guys I mentioned I was working on turning my drabbles into a real story and it’s still a work in progress but here is a rough draft of chapter one if anyone is interested. It’s not whumpy yet, sorry.

"This is ridiculous," Carson sighed, "it's never going to work."

"Not with that attitude it won't, now focus," Daniel scolded.

They sat opposite each other on Carson's kitchen floor. Between them a circle was drawn in chalk, about two feet in diameter. Within its borders there was a pentagram, some runes, and whatever other magical juju they could come up with. Candles flickered from every available surface, casting odd shadows around the small apartment. Carson closed his eyes and attempted to clear his mind as he set down an old watch and a handwritten letter he'd received from his dad about twenty years ago. The objects were meant to establish a connection between him and the circle. Carson pricked his finger and let a few drops of blood drip inside, extending the connection to himself. Danny was mostly there for moral support since he couldn't do magic himself.

They joined hands and Danny smiled, a little proud that he'd actually convinced Carson to go along with this, "let the seance begin!" he declared.

"Richard Hall, if you are here with us tonight, make yourself known!" Carson said with as much seriousness as he could muster at that moment. To be fair, if his dad's spirit did exist somewhere, it would be here in his old apartment. Carson "inherited" it from him a few years ago. He didn't know the man but he must not have had anyone very important in his life after he left because he signed over everything in his will to his son by default. That's right, all $8,000. Oh, and the old answering machine that was left on the table probably by mistake.

"Richard Hall, if you are here with us tonight, make yourself known!" He repeated, the idea was to say it three times to properly summon a spirit. Daniel snickered from across the circle and Carson shushed him, cracking open one eye to glare at him. Danny bowed his head and cleared his throat, signaling that Carson could continue with the seance.

Okay, three times the charm, "Richard Hall if you-" a dull buzzing noise cut him off and both Carson and Danny jumped in surprise. They looked around the room to see if a man had suddenly appeared from the other side. Danny looked a little disappointed to find that the room was still empty.

Digging into his pocket Carson cast his friend a guilty look and as he pulled his phone out, the source of the buzzing got louder as he did. Danny crossed his arms.

"What? I set it in on silent..." He stood up, stretching his legs that had gotten sore from sitting Indian style for the past twenty minutes. He walked a few feet away and into his living room before answering, “Hello."

Papers shuffled around and random voices flooded in through the speaker, "Uh, hi, I'm detective Miller," a girl answered, sounding a little flustered, "is this Carson Hall?"

"Yeah, what do you want?" He asked, sounding a little impatient. He had a seance to finish and calls that start out asking his name are his least favorite kind of call, seeing as he had no interest talking to someone he didn’t already know.

"Well, I'm calling to see if you'd be willing to consult on a case..." she explained. Carson racked his brain trying to figure out what she could possibly need his help for.

"What does this have to do with me?" He asked.

"You see, it… it involves magic. We think someone is using it to kill people without leaving any clear evidence, there have been two deaths so far” she paused, hoping that would get his attention, usually she wouldn’t just give out details of a case right away but she needed his help, ”we lost our CI a few months ago that used to help with this sort of thing. You're the only confirmed magic user in our database that doesn't have a criminal record or gang affiliation-"

Carson frowned, "back up a second, I'm in your database? As a magic user? Who did you say you were again?" In his line of work it was best to operate with a healthy level of skepticism. When word does occasionally get out that he's a soul magician, having the incredibly rare set of skills that can be used to heal people of almost any ailment, including death believe it or not, he gets assaulted by phone calls from people all over the country asking him to fix someone. If Carson had the energy inside himself to do it, he probably would try to help every person that called him. Unfortunately, unlike other magic users, he can only use life energy to do magic, usually his own. There's also the issue of disrupting the natural order of things on a catastrophic level. Riley continued explaining her case and every step that had led her to Carson, she was clearly new at her job. At some point he must have started to tune her out, oops.

"So will you help me?" She asked. Carson searched his memory for whatever she had just said but all his brain supplied him with was "uhhh".

"Um, yeah I guess we can talk about it.” He said, not really sure what he was agreeing to.

“Can you meet me at my office tomorrow at ten?”

“Sure but if it’s going to be that early I’d rather meet somewhere that has caffeine,” Carson said, “I know a good coffee shop.”

Carson gave her the address and agreed to meet her tomorrow. He crossed his fingers that at the very least he’d get a free latte out of it. Crossing the room, Carson walked back to their little circle. Danny sat next to it with an expectant look on his face. Despite the eerie candle lighting and ritual set up, he couldn’t really get into the right headspace for a seance anymore. Not that it had any chance of working in the first place.

“Sorry, if you really want to summon my dead dad we’re going to have to do it another night.” He bent down to smear the edge of the circle and was surprised to feel just the faintest buzz of energy around it. He was sure if he really focused on it and opened his eyes to the energy, he’d see a weak blue glow around the edges.

"So what was that about?" Daniel asked.

"Honestly, I don't know. Some girl called about a case, she's with the police." Carson said as he started blowing out candles and cleaning up the circle. "I'm meeting her for coffee tomorrow."

"Ooh, Carson's got a date." Danny teased. Carson took a moment to be grateful that he'd met Danny in college and not middle school.

"I do not. She just wants some advice..." his face grew serious, "apparently there have been a few murders."

It was a little chilling, knowing there was a dangerous magician messing around in his city. Magic users had a bad enough reputation already. Daniel’s eyes widened with concern as a thought struck him.

"Wait, are magicians killing people? Or are people killing magicians..." he asked, suddenly worried for his friend, knowing he wasn't nearly as careful or as secretive as other magic users are. Magic in itself wasn't illegal, but it wasn't widely accepted either. Carson wished they could just go back to when people simply didn’t believe in it, or chose not to notice. Now that people do know, they fear it, and because they fear it, they hate it. It was the same old story of some group of people being different from the common masses and being alienated because no one took the time to try to understand them. Carson knew that if anyone besides Daniel knew about him it would cause a whole world of trouble for him, maybe make it hard to get a job or keep his apartment. Luckily he did have some level of protection, he’s done some big favors for a few very important people in New York. The kind of people you don’t argue with.

So it wasn’t exactly good news to hear that his name was in some police database. If they had that kind of information, anyone might be able to find it. He shivered.

***

Carson walked into the cafe at nearly 10am exactly. Despite having never met this detective Miller it wasn't hard to pick her out of the crowd. Where everyone else was calmly enjoying their morning coffee she was sitting behind a pile of papers, circling things with what looked to be five different colored pens. She looked up when he walked in and raised a tentative hand up to wave. Carson gave her a nod and headed towards the counter to order. She hurried around the table towards him.

"Thanks for coming," she said, sliding her card over to the barista discreetly, "I didn't think you would."

Carson wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, frankly he didn't know what he was doing here either but he did get that free latte he was hoping for. So far, so good.

"You can call me Riley," she said, extending her hand to shake his. He shook it, not bothering to introduce himself since she already knew who he was. “Did you want to get some food too?” She asked politely.

Carson’s face hardened, “I hate breakfast.” He said it with complete seriousness, like the meal itself  had personally offended him. Riley made a mental note to not mention it again, then another noting how odd this Carson guy seemed.

“Um okay then.” she replied timidly. Riley was young, she had that excited energy Carson lost sometime in college after too many late nights. Her medium brown hair was tied back in a ponytail that was casual yet decidedly professional along with the rest of her outfit. Everything about her was plain and average, everything except her eyes. Her green eyes were as striking as her hair was dull, or her skin was fair.

When Carson's coffee was ready they headed over to her makeshift desk and he had to move a few things out of the way to make room for his drink. "So you said something about a case?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm working under the lead detective on a couple of strange murders that we think were done with magic, but we need more information from an expert." She said.

Carson laughed, "and I'm supposed to be the expert? There was really no one else you could call?" God if he was the special help then this case would never be solved.

"Well magic users tend not to get involved with the police, or anyone for that matter. But you must know that. Anyways, it's not all that complicated, you've had some training right?" Her eyes sparkled with hope and suddenly Carson felt a little guilty for not taking this seriously.

“No, I'm still waiting on my letter from Hogwarts." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "I've yet to find someone willing or able to train me. I'm a soul magician and those are pretty rare. It's kinda like I speak a different language than regular magicians, our magic isn't quite compatible."

"Magician? Like stage magic? Rabbits and hats and stuff?" She said, sounding a little skeptical.

"Magician, like, you know, physician, or electrician. It's what I do. But you can call it whatever you want, wizard, sorcerer, warlock, whatever." Carson took a large sip of his latte, he needed caffeine and he needed it now.

"But you do real magic right?" Riley asked, she didn't intend to be insulting, but Carson could see in her face that she was wondering if she made a horrible mistake in calling him. He sighed and looked around for an idea, some small object he could move to give her a demonstration. Settling his eyes on the pen in her hand Carson focused his thoughts on moving it towards himself. It's kind of a tedious process having to take the energy from his own life force and convert that into a more versatile form of magical energy but it only takes a few seconds, less time if he's desperate. The pen tore from her fingers as if on it's own accord and came to settle in his Carson's hand.

"Was that real enough?" He asked, giving her a challenging look. She swallowed nervously and jerked her head in a nod. Once he'd apparently passed her test, Riley found a few pictures and slid them over to him. Each one showed a ritual circle, not unlike the one he was using last night to try to summon his dad's spirit.

"Well that's magic alright. Pretty serious stuff by the looks of it. If these circles were used as a direct link to kill someone that would require a lot of power." Carson said. An uneasy feeling washed over him as it finally sunk in that a dangerous magician was operating right in this area, killing people in a way that wouldn't leave the police enough evidence to use in court. It was clever, but not that clever. The police have dealt with criminals like that before and the ritual circles in the pictures in front of him were pretty damning evidence if you knew what you were looking at. This magician is making the dangerous assumption that the police would have no idea how magic worked, which was only partially true. Carson made the decision right in that moment to help them if only because it pissed him off that someone thought they could get away with this.

"How does it work?" She asked. Finally, a question he could answer. Circles were magic 101. You didn't need to be very skilled to use symbols and artifacts, that's why they were Carson's go to method of doing any kind of magic.

"Well the circle let's you focus magic in one spot, like putting water in a glass instead of letting it flow. You can draw different shapes and symbols inside depending on what you're using it for. I've never seen this particular symbol before but then again I've never tried to use magic to kill anyone. I also see what looks like blood, candle wax, maybe salt, and a few dark stones I don't recognize. The other objects inside must be specific to the victims."

Carson looked up to see that Riley was scribbling away at a piece of paper. She was actually taking notes, precious. He didn't comment on it though, seeing as he's not a total dick. Instead he marked a few things on the pictures and handed them back to her.

"Thanks that's a good place to start. We already have one suspect, there is no direct link between him and the murders but he's the only powerful magician on the police's radar right now. We think he has the support of a gang..." Riley trailed off as she realized a lot of the assumptions they'd made so far were based on how magicians acted as criminals. In today's society, that's how most magic users were seen. Riley thought Carson seemed different though, completely different. When she went through the database of confirmed magic users most names were attached to a police report, Carson's was attached to medical files from the local hospital. They described a man coming in, speaking with the patient, then finding that that patient had been completely cured. Sometimes Carson picked people randomly, whenever he felt the need to clear his conscience with a good deed. Other times it was for money, after all, he had to pay his rent somehow, and he usually charged significantly less than the hospital did in the long run. A few files reported that same man being admitted for severe exhaustion. It didn’t take them long to put two and two together and figure out who and what he was. What Carson didn’t know was that they would release those files to the government.

Riley cleared her through, “The suspect’s name is Martin Foster, we were hoping you can ask around, see if anyone knows anything about him.”

She meant she wanted him to go talk to all his magician friends. Carson didn’t have the heart to tell her that he didn’t know a single other other magic user. If there was some special club for magicians, he hadn’t been invited. That didn’t mean that he couldn’t dig up something useful though, so all he said was, “sure, I’ll look into it.”

Riley gave him that hopeful smile, “Great, well I’ll give you my information,” her eyes darted around the table as if there weren’t plenty of pens and pieces of scrap paper at her disposal. She picked up a blue one and tore a page of a small notebook, scribbling her cell number, office number, and office address for him, “Oh and I should give you my partner’s info too. He’s in charge of the investigation.” Adding one final number onto the slip of paper she handed it to Carson.

He took it, brain already swirling with ideas, places to check, shady corners to watch. He had a few new tools that needed to be field tested. Grabbing his coffee, Carson got up and left her to gather her mountain of paperwork. It would have been awkward just standing there for the amount of time it would take her to organize the files and put them into her bag. Carson waved as he walked out the door and into the brisk morning air, she quickly waved back with a little too much enthusiasm. His apartment was only a few blocks away but turned around and walked in the other direction, deciding not to go home just yet. Danny’s family owned a bookshop that specialized in rare finds. He’d gotten many of his books on magic there over the years. With the images of the crime scenes still fresh in his memory Carson wanted to do some research on those symbols. He pulled out the slip of paper Riley just gave him and turned it over, pulling a black pen from his coat pocket. Carson drew the symbol as accurately as he could and stuffed the paper and pen back into his pocket for later.

***

Bells chimed as he opened the door to the shop. An older man stepped out from behind a bookshelf to welcome the customer but he just smiled and went back to work when he realized it was just Carson. The man was Daniel’s father, the actual owner of the shop though he let his sons mind the store most days. He only came in when there was a new shipment of books which happened once every week.

“Good morning, Ralph. Do you mind if I look at the new books?” he asked politely. Carson didn’t have the best manners but Daniel’s dad was a little old fashioned so he dusted them off just for him.

“They’re in the back room, knock yourself out.” He said as he shelved a few books.

“Thank you, sir.” The words felt like thick syrup in his mouth but he managed and proceeded to the back of the store. Chances were pretty slim that they had any new books on magic but it didn’t hurt to check. His collection of books was really Carson’s only way to study magic. Since no one would teach him, he’d just have to figure it out himself.

A stack of worn books sat in an opened box on the old oak table. Skimming over the titles he could dismiss the top few easily since he wasn’t looking to start a garden or learn Chinese history. Further in he did find one book. The title on the cover was worn and hard to read but when he opened it he found diagrams of ingredients and verses that might have been enchantments. It could be total nonsense but Carson wouldn’t know until he tried it for himself. He put all the books back into the box in their original order before heading up to the front to buy the book. He used to get the ‘friends and family’ discount but the shop had been struggling lately so he didn’t ask for it anymore. Carson was probably their best customer and he didn’t want them losing any money on him.

Ralph put the book and receipt into a bag carefully. Normally he would have just carried it out but the binding was coming undone in a few spots.

“Are you going to stay and read? Daniel should be coming in for his shift in an hour or so.” Ralph said, handing him the bag with the same caution one would use when handing over a newborn baby.

“No I have some stuff to do at home, I’ll see you around.” Carson smiled.

“Take care.”

Carson left the shop and started heading home. He felt like he had done so much today but it was only noon. Probably because he usually got out of bed around this time.

***

Carson spent most of the day rifling through books looking for that stupid symbol he had seen in the ritual circle. Even the books he had on black magic didn’t cover anything like that and those books had symbols and spells for almost everything dark and mysterious. Maybe he drew it wrong. He had a feeling Riley wouldn’t just hand over copies of evidence from an ongoing investigation so he’d probably have to stop by her office to compare them. He found a few things that didn’t quite match but could definitely be used to kill someone, though he didn’t really want Riley to know that he had that kind of information. Setting his notes aside, Carson got off the couch and stepped around piles of books. He’d cleared off most of the shelves in his search. If it was anything other than magic related he wouldn’t have nearly the same work ethic but he was also driven simply by how bothered he was that someone would do this. No wonder people were scared of magic users.

Carson opened his fridge looking for dinner, and he wasn’t too surprised when he found it nearly empty. God he needed a girlfriend or something. He’d probably be dead by now if Daniel hadn’t, for whatever reason, made it his job to make sure Carson took care of himself. He already ordered take out three times this week so he settled for his pathetic meal of cereal with a side of whiskey to make him forget how pathetic it was. He was just about to take a bite when there was a knocking at the door. He knew right away that it was Daniel because he waited a whole three seconds before unlocking the door and letting himself in.

“I knew it. I fucking knew it.” He said with a smirk.

“What?” Carson said, looking around his apartment for some idea of what he was talking about.

“You. You’re eating cereal for dinner again, no wonder you’re so skinny. Honestly, it hurts to watch. Luckily for us both I brought Chinese if only to spare myself the sight of… that.” Daniel said, making a vague gesture at his bowl and glass of bourbon.

Though Carson wouldn’t admit it, his mouth literally started watering at the scent emanating from the paper bag tucked under his friends arm. He cast the cereal aside, forgotten, and cleared enough space in his living room so they could both sit down.

“Well, aren’t you going to tell me about the girl, and the case, preferably in that order?”

Carson sighed as he opened up a box of rice, “Well she’s young, kinda cute, way too enthusiastic about her job, and she has green eyes, kind of like yours. As for the case, I don’t know much yet other than they’re using circles to do their dirty work. If they want to kill someone they should at least have the dignity to do it themselves and not just use magic.” Carson took a few heavenly bites of tofu and broccoli dripping in brown sauce before continuing, “I’ve been looking for this symbol all day.” He passed the piece of paper over to him so Daniel could get a good look. Despite having no magical ability himself, it was kind of a shared hobby of theirs and Daniel knew almost as much about it as Carson did.

“Mmmm, doesn’t look familiar.” He hummed in thought. “Have you checked…” he lowered his voice and leaned over the table, “the black books.”

He was referring to the small collection of super secret, super dangerous books on black magic which probably were illegal to own. Carson didn’t look at them often, afraid that that alone would be enough to corrupt him somehow.

“Yes I checked the black books. Nothing quite matches, I need to see the original pictures again anyways. Maybe I drew it wrong and all this was for nothing. But you will be glad to know that I made some progress with my other project.”

Daniel’s eyes lit up in a way that Carson had only seen in children. He didn’t understand Daniel’s obsession with magic but then again Carson has had it for most of his life so he tended to take it for granted. Lately they’ve been working on creating some kind of tool that would make it easier to wield other types of energy. They’d tried wands and staffs and all your typical wizardy stuff but it all felt unnatural to Carson. Recently Daniel came up with the idea to enchant a pair of gloves since one of his biggest problems when using magic was that using the lingering energy of other people’s life forces,  also known as souls, tended to make him sick. It was almost like his body treated the foreign energy like an infection when he mixed the energy of different souls and drew it into himself. It was unrealistic to recklessly use his own soul to fuel his magic, he kinda needed that for staying alive. So the idea was that gloves could let him grab hold of the energy without needing to actually bringing it into his body.

Daniel was practically shaking with excitement and Carson rolled his eyes at him as he walked around the set of bookshelves that divided the living room from his bedroom, best he could do in a studio apartment. He had a small cardboard box tucked under his bed filled with all his magical toys and such. A pair of black, leather gloves sat on top. He had needed to make up a new enchantment to make them conducive to magical energy and he almost had it figured out. Carson slipped them on and walked back out to his captive audience.

“Come on, do something already!” Danny begged. He quickly moved everything valuable to one side of the room, which consisted of a few books and the Chinese food.

“Here it goes, I guess, take cover,” Carson said a little uncertainly. He flexed his fingers a few times and closed his eyes, feeling for the energy around him. It was pointless to be wearing the gloves in his own apartment since all the lingering energy there was his own. Soon his fingertips began to tingle as energy was absorbed into the leather. He smiled and let out a small cheer when the energy gathered and stopped there instead of traveling up his arm. He focused his mind on what he wanted to do with it before he could get any further, the gloves caught fire. Like actually caught fire. Daniel was quick to throw a glass of water at him before the alarm could be triggered. Most of the water splashed onto Carson’s face but he did manage to put the gloves out in the process. The whole event left Carson’s heart racing in his chest. Any longer and his fingers would have started burning with them. They both stood there for a confused minute, panting as the panic slowly settled.

“What went wrong?” Daniel broke the silence first.

“Um, maybe the energy in the gloves was too much?” Carson answered with another question, “That’s the only thing that makes sense, too much energy concentrated in one spot.”

“But they worked? Other than that?” Daniel asked hopefully. Carson nodded.

“If I can just find a way to fix that, these could change everything.”

Carson did have other magical artifacts he had successfully enchanted, but none of those could be used for more than one thing, making them useless in combat. He had basic spells for heat and cold, turning things on and off, producing light. But all those things work on their own, they couldn’t directly aid Carson in harnessing and moving energy as cool as they may be. Slipping off the wet and slightly burned gloves Carson decided to work on them later. He had other things to think about. It was starting to get dark outside despite only being 7pm, a sure sign that winter was coming. Riley might still be working at her office or at the station. He decided to try her office first, not wanting to bother her if she was at home. She answered on the third ring.

“Hello this is Riley Miller, what can I help you with?” She asked in a very professional tone. Carson was starting to wonder what part of her job as a junior detective required her own office.

“Hi,” Carson said lamely, “I need to see those pictures again to compare some things.”

“Carson?”

“Yeah,” he said, realizing she might not recognize his voice after only one meeting. “Can I stop by your office?”

“Um, sure, I’ll probably be here for a while.” She said, sounding far less energetic than she had earlier that day. Ugh, Carson groaned in his head, what if she’s one of those weird morning people? He hung up a moment later, already grabbing his things to head over there.

“You can stay and keep searching the books if you want, I’m gonna go to Riley’s office and look at those crime scene photos again.” Carson said as he threw a flannel on over his t-shirt before putting hi jacket on.

“Oh yay, I get to stay here and scour these books all by myself.” Daniel groaned.

“Oh shut up, you own a book store, don’t even pretend you aren’t itching to look through…” Carson whispered, doing his best imitation of how Daniel had said it, “the black books.”

Daniel scowled and turned away from him in mock defiance as he grabbed a few books to start looking through. Carson walked outside and called a cab.

***

The cab stopped right in front of her office at the address he gave the driver. It was especially dark now but a warm, inviting glow lit up her window, making the name and logo etched into the front even more visible. Carson pulled a few crumpled bills out of his pocket and handed them to the driver before stepping out. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked up the front steps, ready to get out of the cold dark night. It was only mid October but Carson was already tended to run cold and the frigid wind whistling through the buildings wasn’t doing him any favors. He reluctantly dragged one hand back out to knock on the door, it was black and clearly real wood. Her office was in a nice part of town, the buildings here were a little older, a little shorter. The atmosphere was starkly different from where he lived. Riley peaked out the window before opening the door. Her hair was still pulled out of her face in a ponytail but she wore a different shirt from earlier, looking more casual now. Carson noticed a pink tint to her cheeks like she’d been exercising. As he walked further into the room he saw a half empty bottle of wine among stacks of papers on her desk. That explained the flush to her cheeks which, now that he got closer, looked kind of cute on her in contrast with her eyes.

Immediately in front of him upon stepping inside was a small kitchenette with a sink, fridge, and coffee pot. To the right there was a round wooden table up against the window with a few chairs gathered around it. Behind the wall by the kitchen he saw what he guessed to be a bathroom or a closet. Lastly an old leather couch sat in the corner with a low coffee table in front of it that matched her work desk. Needless to say, it was small, everything in New York was but it was well organized aside from the various folders spread around her work space. Carson took his coat off before walking around to the couch. Riley was already looking around for the pictures he had asked to see.

“Do you want anything? Coffee?” she asked, then held up the bottle, “merlot?”

“You got any cream or sugar?” Carson asked, knowing that if he did accept the wine he’d probably melt into the soft leather and fall asleep before he got anything done.

“Sure,” she set the folder she was looking for down on the coffee table then walked into the kitchen.

“I got it,” Carson took a few long strides and beat her to the coffee pot, he was already interrupting her work, she didn’t need to serve him too. Carson found a clean mug hung next to the machine and grabbed some half and half from the fridge. “Sugar?” he asked,

“Bottom shelf in the cupboard in front of you,” she supplied helpfully, returning to her desk.

Carson took the steaming mug with him back to the couch and opened the file folder. The two photos of the ritual circles were at the top of the stack, underneath he caught a glimpse of the other half of one of the crime scenes, he shuddered, pushing the folder away from him. A quick glance at the pictures confirmed that he had copied the symbol down correctly, it really was that hard to find. The only explanation he could think of was that the symbol in the circle was really two symbols drawn on top of each other. He ran a hand over his face wondering why he hadn’t considered that sooner. The lighting wasn’t good enough to distinguish the lines as being two separate things but once he started picking the photo apart, drawing every possible combination, things started to click. He felt a little stupid for not realizing it before, though he didn’t do anything complicated enough to require more than one it wasn’t unheard of layer multiple symbols on top of each other. It could very easily be the basic symbol for a death spell with what looked like two triangles, slightly offset from each other, forming uneven points.

“I think I figured it out,” Carson said, beckoning Riley over to the couch, “come look at this.” Riley got up from her chair a little tiredly and made her way over to sit next to him.

“What am I looking at?” she asked, to her it only looked like a page of notebook paper covered in strange doodles, though there was a clear pattern once she compared it to the photos.

“Well, I couldn’t find this exact symbol anywhere in my books, but then I realized it could be multiple symbols drawn on top of each other inside the circle. This here,” Carson pointed, “is the most common symbol for a death spell. Then these triangles, I’m not sure what they’re for, but they could be used to strengthen or alter the spell.” Carson explained, all a little too quickly. The words just spilled from his mouth as the gears turned in his brain. He looked up to see Riley frowning at him. “What? I thought you wanted to know how it worked?”

“I do. But I can’t overlook the fact that you know the construction of a death spell off the top of your head. There can’t be very many people in Brooklyn, or New York for that matter, that know how to do this.”

Carson let out a long sigh. He should have expected this. No one trusts magicians, and now he’s gone and made himself a suspect.

“Not many people in New York spend all their time reading books and studying magic either. I could also draw the symbol for blocking or amplifying sound off the top of my head.” Carson said.

“Sorry it’s just, you only hear about the bad magicians, so people assume they’re all bad. I know there are plenty of magic users out there that could use their magic to do a lot of harm but instead use it for good, or not at all. Why don’t you try to hide it?” She asked curiously. Carson took a few sips of his coffee and sank back into the sofa.

“Well, I do try to hide. But I can’t just stand by and do nothing when I have the ability to do what I do. Soul magicians also don’t really fall into the same category as other magic users. Throughout history we’ve been known mostly as healers. I can do other things of course, but soul magic and the transferring of life is the easiest for me, and regular magicians can’t touch that kind of energy.” Carson explained, it felt good to talk about it to someone other than Daniel. He just hoped he wasn’t making a mistake trusting her.

“Right, I’ve heard some rumors, stories, but I never really gave it much thought.” She said. “So you can heal people, even bring them back to life?” he nodded. “Can you also use it the other way, to hurt people?”

Carson nearly choked on his coffee, “No, it seems to be a one way exchange.” Carson lied. He searched her face for any sign that she didn’t believe him but didn’t find anything. No reason to make himself seem any more dangerous than he already did. Carson changed the subject by giving Riley a different truth, “there is a downside to it though.”

“Yeah?” She prompted.

“When I’ve brought people back, which only works if they’ve been dead for a few minutes at the most, I’ve seen death. It’s not something you can forget.”

Riley frowned, turning away from him. “What did it feel like?” She asked quietly.

Carson couldn’t contain the full body cringe that came with just thinking about it. He didn’t know how to describe it, didn’t want to. But it was cold, empty, lonely, painful, wrong, and it haunted him.