#c. kirk

[mutatedangels-a]

@mere-lullaby // kirk x sirena // from ( x )

Infatuated was putting it lightly. Kirk was enamored by the girl—the woman?—the creature in such an otherworldly way that he couldn't think of a word to put to it.

He was laying under the night sky at the coast, in the backyard of his parents' old summer home. He'd been watching her swim about, the big bright crescent moon reflecting off her tail as it sloshed around in the water. Sketchbook in his hand, he tried to catch as many glimpses of her as he could. Hoping that maybe one day all of the fragments would piece together a puzzle, a better picture of who she was and what she looked like. For now, the bits and pieces would do. But he'd been at this for almost two decades now, every summer coming to visit her.

"How did you turn into one of these things?" he mused aloud, biting on his pen, gaze fixed on his sketchbook page. He didn't think she would answer. All of these years, each summer he visited... he always spoke aloud to her and she never answered. He was almost convinced she was a figment of his imagination until, at last, she answered him.

He rose from his spot on his blanket, shock on his face as she climbed the boulder and . "You—you heard me?" His grip on his sketchbook loosened and it fell to the blanket with a soft thud as he took a step toward her, lips parted. "This can't be real. I've gotta be dreaming," he chuckled.

[full-tiltboogiearc]

@lamelancolia // kirk & saika // continued

"I was gonna say, we don't want you getting so good at latte art that you forget all about making movies," Kirk teased, circling behind the girl to tend to the espresso machine, giving it a quick swipe with his rag.

He then tossed the rag over his shoulder before climbing up on the counter, nodding his head toward her. "Think you can make me one of those? Decaf, though, please. I can't have any more caffeine today."

[callmewhenyougetthis-a]

@waveofstars​ //

It wasn’t illegal or anything, but it wasn’t socially acceptable conduct to bring in outside food at one of these things—you know, the local farmer’s markets and art festivals and whatnot—because what you’re meant to do is buy your snacks at one of the well-to-do food trucks and stalls scattered about the area. Have some local fare, support the mom-and-pop businesses scraping to get by. But when a certain craving just hits for Kirk, well, it’s like a dump truck going 70 miles an hour, and he had a particular craving for French fries from McDonald’s. And, he told himself, Kirk almost always bought local when he got the chance, so he thought the act permissible. 

As his buddy from a few booths over came through with the frowned-upon paper bag containing his fries and chicken nuggets, Kirk ducked down behind his booth and wore a maniacal grin. “Aw, man. Jack, thank you so much,” he said. He was about to set the paper bag out on top of his booth and make a nice feast out of all of it, but in the corner of his eye, he saw the market coordinator staring at him like a hawk. He mustered up a guilty smile before turning to Jack again, shoving the bag under his booth.

“How’s your booth doing, man?” he asked. Jack told him it wasn’t so great; most attendees these days came for free samples and food, both of which artists like the two of them didn’t have. Part of Kirk wondered if all of this was a waste of his time, but then he told himself—if just one kid saw his artwork on display and felt excited to draw or even copy it when they got home, it would be worth it. 

It didn’t pay the bills at all, but it was worth it. And maybe, just maybe, at one of these rinky-dink festivals might there be a recruiter or something like that for a comic book publisher who approaches Kirk’s booth and sweeps him away to San Diego lickety-split. 

Never happened, but... the day was young. 

Once Jack headed back to his booth, Kirk ducked down again, taking a quick sip of his crispy Coke and shoving a handful of fries in his mouth. He looked around to see if anyone was watching and... of course... someone was. 

 And seeing a camera dangling from the witness’s neck, he said, “I can explain.”

[hopefromthecheapseats]

@reynlrunnr | kirk x rowan

It had been a busy Halloween season for Kirk, who’d dedicated his entire month of September to working at a haunted house and working on a new comic. His newest venture was into creature features, and the spirit of the spooky month truly manifested in his art. As fun as it was to stay up all night writing and drawing (even when he was supposed to be cuddling with his all-too-patient girlfriend), he needed to make some money, and therefore needed to take up a gig at the local haunted house. It was a haunted festival this corner of town put up annually for the last decade or so; he worked at it when he was in college, and now, fresh into his thirties, he’d made a full circle.

Donning his scarecrow monster garb, he got out of his shift as a scarier with a few hours to spare until the festival closed. With a stitched smile in her direction, Kirk head for Rowan at her car, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. He reached up to scratch the back of his head out of habit and the straw popping out of his flannel sleeves flung around. Even in a costume, he probably wore that boyish charm like second skin. He laughed as he approached the redhead. “Hey, you,” he said, wrapping a stuffed arm around her neck and kissing the top of her head. “I was thinking we could spend a couple hours here tonight if you aren’t too tired. The haunted hayride you were talking about is in operation, too.”

[artdepo]

C. Kirk is an artist based out of Texas

[mutatedangels-a]

@lightsiided // kirk x rey

There are very few moments when Kirk is late. Er, scratch that—

There are very few moments when Kirk is late to work. Much better.

Almost always it's due to inclement weather, especially in the springtime when it's pouring rain about four out of the seven days. With his car in the shop he's pretty much stuck using his skateboard to get everywhere, and that works most of the time except for during thunderstorms. It just so happens that this morning, there's a thunderstorm, and it's practically flooding all of campus.

But he doesn't want to miss work. Doesn't want to leave the café closed all day, because what if that one kid needs to come in and do his work on their reliable WiFi? Or what if somebody is waiting for a ride and needs a roof over their head. Or just needs to take shelter for whatever reason. It's a very silly thing to be dedicated to, but Kirk is the manager of the Cool Beans Coffee Shop in this stupid college town, and he takes that role very seriously.

He hops off the bus when it makes a stop right in front of Cool Beans and he jogs toward the entrance, catching a familiar figure standing underneath the awning. Well, at least there's that. It's a good thing he budgeted for the upgrade of the café's facade earlier in the year, or else this girl would be drenched. "Hey, I'm so sorry to keep you waiting, I hope you haven't been here that long," Kirk says, flashing a quick smile in passing as he digs in his pocket for the keys and breaks into the café.

The dim and quiet coffee shop before open hours is a nice respite from the sensory overload of the thunderstorm that awaits outside. He flicks on the lights and sets his backpack down on the floor, clearing off the chairs at one table and freeing it up for her to sit at. "Your usual this morning, or?" About her coffee order.

[mutatedangels-a]

@mere-lullaby // kirk x sirena ( from this )

Oh, how tempting it was to give her a hug and forget anything had ever happened. Maybe that would make the storms let up. But Kirk knew better than to be so idealistic. He was not the sort of person who could sweep things under the rug and continue as if nothing was wrong. Instead, his negative thoughts and feelings festered, poisoning his heart and mind.

He narrowed his eyes when she mentioned feeling jealous. His mind shot back to a few days ago, on Saturday. It was perhaps the only day throughout the whole summer so far that they hadn't talked to each other.

But she knew that was coming, because he'd told her a few days before that his old college roommates were in town paying him a visit. He told Sirena he'd visit her as soon as he woke up the next day. He shook his head.

"No, Sirena, I- I don't wanna hug," he answered, somewhat pained. His hands were up a bit, accidentally creating some distance between them. "So you were... jealous? And that's why there've been all these crazy storms and stuff? Is this about when I saw Joey, Ben, and Lulu on Saturday?"

[mutatedangels-a]

@mere-lullaby

“When I was, uh, younger—I used to stay up and read comics in bed at night, under the covers. Just like this.”

He had only hesitated a little because he didn’t want to be honest about the fact he still did it to this day, despite not having a bedtime as an adult. Only to feel like a child again.

“My dad used to check up on me every 30 minutes,” he laughed, speaking hushed, “and every 30 minutes I’d scramble to turn off my flashlight and pretend to be asleep.”

The pair were doing just that, tucked under the sheets in his summer bedroom, cuddling over a vintage, dilapidated issue of Spider-Man. His favorite one—this one was the one where they first introduced Doc Oc.