#mpxmaxim

starter for @mpxmaxim , let the goofiness begin!

Getting acquainted with her co-workers was still somewhat tricky. Yeji made sure to carry herself in the most professional way, especially as she is still learning her new job so fraternizing with others would happen often. But she was thankful for the people she had met so far at Babylon, from higher-ups to colleagues and even clients. Wanting to one step further, Yeji took the opportunity it was a calm night and stepped close to the entrance, approaching the security guard she hadn't spoken to before.

Carter frowned.

It had been his third attempt at crocheting a tiny fox, and much like his previous tries, it went terribly. He'd been able to do other things, but this one fox was proving to be quite the challenge. "Experience is a brutal teacher, but you learn." His eyes narrowed at Max. "Do you know how to crochet or sum?"

Carter was a patient guy, more patient than most, but this venture into crocheting was toying with it. If the tattoo artist had some insight on how to master this new skill, he'd want to know all about it. "Am I using the right needles? Maybe it's the hook - or the yarn?" He mumbled while looking down at his 3 star looking creation. "Maybe the needles are too small?" He *had* been struggling with the tiny tools in his hands, but didn't think the size of them could affect the end result.

When one wakes before their alarm, reality already seems a bit off while also not simultaneously. One believes they have a few more minutes or a couple hours left to snooze or gradually waken themselves, readying for the day. Perhaps that was the impression Maxim received initially upon waking this day. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary in his room, nothing at all. The sights, the sounds, the smells, the way the sheets and the pillows felt--all of it as one would expect it to be. Everything was in its place, just as remembered before falling asleep...

...except...

Those eyes.

At some point, when Maxim dared to look to the side, he would find a pair of eyes peeking over the edge of his mattress; eyes that were otherworldly; eyes that reflected the night sky, shimmering stars against a blanket of midnight, constellations ever shifting; eyes that saw infinity; eyes that saw him, his innermost desires and secrets. Once those eyes locked with Maxim's--whatever the demigod's reaction may be--the owner of that gaze calmly and gradually rose.

Eyes...nose...lips...face...chin...shoulders...torso...waist...legs...

A tall figure loomed over the young man. Though kept in a messy bun, locks of his hair did escape and floated about him as though the god himself was suspended in water and carried on a subtle current; the fabric of his coat followed the same pattern, draped over him like ethereal shadows; the lining, when visible, seemed made of threads spun from the night sky itself, ever shifting with constellations, nebulas, auroras, as a universe trapped within cloth.

After a beat, Morpheus spoke; his voice was gentle, purring, scarcely above a whisper; a voice one might think they heard once. And that voice spoke a name, a name perhaps Maxim had not heard in some time...the demigod's true name.

Closed starter for an irritable gloom cloud @mpxmaxim

Hot dang! After all the sweets he had consumed during the weekend for Lunar New Year, Felix had a LOT of energy to burn off; though perhaps he also had a mild aversion to being idle for too long because that meant he had to face his own thoughts and emotions regarding being the recipient of a gift that was far more intimate than he had expected, and now...well, he would rather just not think about it, nope, he would rather just run off some excess energy. When he was working, well, it was easy to be distracted; he could just play games with patrons and coworkers--but now, after midnight, Galaxy Games had closed for the evening and he was left with his own thoughts again and...

Fuck that.

Outside the doors, instead of hopping into his Dodge Challenger, he opted to pause and double check the knots on his Chuck high tops. Once satisfied, he stood and pushed the sleeves of his hoodie up to his elbows and stared down the street for a moment, then up to the roof of his building. A deep breath, a sharp nod to himself, and he took a few steps back, giving himself a running start and...leapt upward, easily climbing up the geometric exterior as he had done more than a dozen times already.

Once on the roof, he took another deep breath, readied himself, then took off in a mad dash toward the edge where he jumped over the angled 'railing' to leap across the street and grasp a lamp post, swinging like a gymnast in a flip toward the NEXT one, but it was just a touch too far--luckily, there was a delivery truck parked RIGHT there that he could use as a spring board to the next thing, fully intending to use a dumpster to propel him to the next ledge, but oop! Oh no, there was someone opening it, couldn't do that! So a detour was in order. Before he knew it, he found himself no longer Downtown, but in the Bohemian District--a place he had yet to really explore. He was probably lost, but he wasn't worried as he continued to utilize rooftops and fire escapes to navigate. A long as he could see those mountains in the distance, then he had a pretty good idea of where he was and how to get back.

Closed starter for the nightmare on a mission @mpxmaxim

It was a quiet day in the archives. Foot traffic had been minimal at best which was how Vitas liked it. His third day on the job and he had already recategorized, reorganized, and rearranged he entire archives into a far more efficient and superior system than it had been prior to his arrival. The quiet did not bother him in the slightest, it gave him leeway to complete his tasks unhindered. Most patrons preferred to keep to the upper levels for their research, rarely had subjects for which they needed deeper investigations into the more antiquated aspects of history, so Vitas spent his time this day scanning documents and translating them.

Midnight eyes stared at the laptop monitor that reflected his current project upon the lenses of his silver-rimmed glasses. The tall and pale waif of a figure sat at his desk that was perfectly organized and devoid of any personal affects--just a computer and a lamp. The desk sat ahead of rows upon rows and aisles upon aisles of shelves filled with documents and artifacts and boxes filled with KNOWLEDGE. And the person sitting at the desk's comfortable swivel chair seemed as clean as his space, albeit nearly swallowed by the dark grey cardigan that covered the black turtleneck and slacks, neck-length hair of night just long enough to be pulled back into a very small ponytail at the base of his skull and out of the way of his somewhat limited vision, unbothered by the loose locks that did fall before his left eye. His name was no secret, on plain view via his ID badge which hung from the black lanyard about his neck, a pewter pin in the shape of a raven on either strap. His typing was seamless and quiet, smooth and unburdened by any mistakes as he translated recent scans from Latin to Korean. He did not look away from the screen, however, as someone approached--nor did he appear perturbed by the fact that someone was interrupting his task; he could pick up with his translations at any time, but addressing a patron's inquiries was also part of his job.

at Marimo Ink

It was his third appointment at the studio to blacken his gang tattoos on his back and even though he isn't particularly squeamish about pain, the skin needs a break every now and then when the tattoo needle works on the same area over and over again. Aside from that, it's also nice to be able to stretch your limbs after sitting in the same position for an hour. He was really happy that he could take the break in the back yard because he didn't feel like getting some air without a shirt in front of the store. It didn't take long for the tattoo artist to join him and when he asked about smoking, Yohan just shrugged his shoulders briefly. "Go ahead." was his curt answer.