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welcome to ansong's first ask meme weekend! we hope these can help you all learn more about each other's muses and foster lots of in character interactions! to participate in the ask meme weekend please reblog this post! we ask that you please only send questions to those who have reblogged the post. please try to send out at least five questions or prompts to different muses for them to answer before answering your own! this ask meme weekend will last from november 15th until november 17th @ 11:59pm est. while you can only send in asks during this timeframe, you have up until november 29th @ 11:59pm est to answer any you received! for these, any three emoji memes answered OR any one dialogue starter prompt will count towards next week's activity check (november 23rd)! please tag all these as as:meme001 and, of course, have fun! <3

the last thing callum looks for in public is attention. he still can't wrap his head around when people have to stare when he's putting out fires — yeah, sure, they can be scary and dangerous, but why is it that disasters always leave people more dazed and confused, rooted to the spot, when they have every free will not to? why not run? is destruction really that fascinating?

but also, couldn't the same be said for halloween costumes? did everyone really have to be so obvious when they were choosing to stare?

"i should just let you go without that damn thing." the two of them are a comedically stark contrast of one another, nic's twisted garb of thin sheeted fabric wrapped scantily around his torso and waist to cover him in only the most necessary areas while callum is... a very unhappy looking and fully clothed clark kent. he tugs at the collar of his dress shirt uncomfortably. in the midst of the halloween stalls and carnival rides and everything else overloaded their senses, nic had misplaced his phone which equated to a mild public freakout and callum's drive to jump out of this costume even more severe.

nic frowns at callum's questions. "have you seen me? do you think this thing has pockets?" like a toddler throwing a tantrum, he stops in his tracks and stomps his foot on the ground in frustration. "i had it when i called you to tell you to hurry the fuck up before all the good food was gone and then i don't remember what i did with it," he sighs. is nic maybe stupid for wearing a pocket-less costume with only his little fake quiver to stow his shit away in? yes, probably, but he won't admit that out loud. his costume looks good, he looks good. sometimes beauty is pain, or something something something.

"if you had met her you'd also imagine such a wonderful fantasy with me," he responds with a snort, flicking some of his ashes away and shaking his head. "no one understands the vision. just... tim-berrr," he says, using his arm to imitate a tree, gently smacking it to the table as if it was falling. honestly, he wasn't as annoyed as he could be now that the day was over, especially now that he could, possibly, bully nic into seeing some horror films with him. insu needed the laugh at his expense today.

then the word hits him—'date.' his reaction is immediate: the vicious look of utter disgust that takes over his face is almost comical, leaning all the way back as if he had been physically slapped. he gags, a nasty sound at the back of his throat, just from the mere idea that nic even uttered the word. "cut that the fuck out. i want to have enough of a appetite to snack when we get there, jesus christ," he groans, almost childishly, and tries to swipe at nic's legs under the table with the heel of his battered converse. insu wasn't really known to do that—date. relationships were too time consuming, and even deeper down, the feeling of being seen terrified the living hell out of him. he'd rather keep up his current track record: warming someone's bed for a night and slipping out in the morning. "i'll take my offer back right now," he threatens, a empty one, if anything, and then puts takes one last, long drag of his cigarette before putting it out on the side of the table and standing up; he flicks the butt into the small, designated area before eying nic pensively.

instead he just puts his half-smoked cigarette out in the ashtray that looks a little worse for wear sitting on the table outside. seriously, the thing looks ancient, cracked around the edges and usually always overflowing with cigarettes smoked all the way to the filter. nic will sometimes empty it in the nearby trash can so they don't blow away in the wind, but today he's got things to do, places to be. "i'm not dignifying your delinquency with a response," he says evenly, as though he's not somewhat of a delinquent himself.

a snort escapes him at what he knew would be insu's reaction to the date comment. "your appetite could withstand a nuclear apocalypse, you'll be fine you big baby," nic says as he stands and stretches his hands above his head, narrowly missing insu trying to kick him under the table. that, unfortunately, gives insu a window to snatch up nic's coffee and take a sip despite nic's earlier inner monologue about not letting a greasy bastard steal his shit.

"you mother—" nic's cut off by insu's outburst about how bad nic's coffee is, which is just factually not true. it's the superior way to drink coffee. it's not nic's fault that insu's a heathen of a boy who has never seen a bottle of cream or a cup of sugar in his life. laughter bubbles out of his throat while insu goes through all five stages of grief as he looks at the cup of coffee like it personally offended every single member of his family. he's still fighting the giggles when he snatches his coffee back to down the rest of it, and quips back, "some of us like to enjoy our coffee instead of seeing how many cups we can down in the 30 minutes between waking up and running out the door because we're late for work."

crouching down to get a better view of the snacks on the bottom shelf she spots something out of the corner of her eye. the realization that something is on the floor beside her hits slowly. maybe it’s the thc in her system, or maybe her brain is just working on a turtles speed today. or the third, and far more likely option, is she’s just way way too high. either way, it takes her a few full seconds to glance over at the object. once she does she realizes it’s a shoe… an oddly familiar one. wiggling her toes seems to take some extra effort at this moment, especially coordinating well enough to recognize which foot she’s decided to wiggle the toes of first. right foot - she thinks there’s a shoe there, feels like there is anyway. left foot on the other hand only feels sock and the cold of the floor. “shit..” she mumbles, before leaning over to try and reach the shoe only to end up falling over completely - the impact with the ground causing her to yelp a little too loudly. 

he asks, through more giggles, "the great shoe escape?" despite feeling oddly at ease with the way his bones feel like they're floating, nic leans down on unsteady feet and offers her his free hand so she doesn't eat shit trying to get back up off the floor.

there's small splatters of clay scattered around the studio - a collection of gray smears painted across the tarp at their feet, showing that someone had been hard at work trying to perfect their latest masterpiece. but danbi isn't sure if she can confidently call the lopsided teacup and saucer she made to be a paragon. especially when nic had spent the majority of the class gently coaching her on how to shape her creation, and how to not lose control of the pottery wheel as she often did whenever she took up his offer on coming to a class. despite his patient and thorough lessons, she had stepped on the pedal a little too hard and most of the materials had splashed up and stained her apron.

"that was a really fun class," she says with a smile after the last of the patrons leave, the corners of her mouth curving upwards as she turns to him. even if she wasn't the most coordinated student, danbi had still given the lesson her all and had enjoyed herself despite her slight blundering. "you're a really good teacher. it's no wonder your classes book up so quickly," she chimes, the words true and genuine. nic had an undeniable knack for putting others at ease, and though danbi wasn't the most extroverted of creatures, his warm disposition encouraged her to come today even when things like this were out of her comfort zone. "do you want to stop and get something to eat on the way home? it'll be my treat - since you, uh . . had to clean up after me and all."

he's wiping up wayward spots of slip that have found their way on the walls (probably due to danbi's overeager inquisitiveness when throwing clay) when he hears the compliments. and well, he's never been good at those, so he waves them off as he turns around to glance at her. "i'm only as good as my students," he says shyly, with a shrug as he goes back to wiping up the clay.

"but since you're offering," he teases, tossing the rag towards the back room. he'll grab that in a minute, he has to go back there and check on the kiln before he leaves anyways. make sure everything's running smoothly and nothing sounds like it's gonna burst. "i think there's a 24/7 sushi place on the way home that i heard was good."

he changes gears then, waving off the apology this time. it's his job to clean up at the end of the day, and he enjoys working with clay enough that he doesn't even mind all the other shit he has to do on top of it. at the mention of the door, however, nic pauses at the entrance to the back. "i've got the keys i'll be there in a sec," he calls back, picking up the rag off the floor. the owner must have locked it as they were leaving so no one else would come in so nic could close, but it still feels odd. it usually stays unlocked until nic's out and locks it himself. oh, well.

after he's tossed the rag in with the rest of the dirty ones to be washed at the end of the week and on his way out of the back room, something pops. not like the kind of cute popcorn pop that nic's used to hearing when a glaze bubble pops in the kiln, but like an ugly sound that makes him jump as he comes back to the front. "jesus," he breathes, glancing back towards the now dark stockroom. he hopes nothing exploded in the kiln but.... he's not really eager to stick around and find out. "let's get out of here before something weirder happens," he suggests, fumbling with his keys to try to unlock the door.

they’re so close to home that daeho takes another long drag from his cancer stick. he doesn’t like bringing it inside and the way the smell sticks to absolutely everything, so he’d rather ash the remains when they enter. “i’d love to see you try, nic. for real. you gonna put up a fight this time?” his grin is a little sharp, but he means well. bumps his shoulder into nic’s, too, for good measure. “you can have whatever you want, once you’re high it’s over anyway.”