#but yeah i might not answer every meme or ask

[amaranthsynthesis]

me with almost 30k on ao3 in the last two months, do i get to call myself a fanfic writer now too instead of just a fanartist

#i think the answer is yeah duh but like #god it’s been so long since i had any confidence in writing or any community to do it with and i always wanted to be #an author and a sequential artist and every combo therein but ft like i was clinging on to something that has passed me by #missed the opportunity dumbass better luck next time #and now i’m sat here like. maybe. that’s not true? maybe you can grow and change and return to lost hobbies forever #and you’re never in trouble! #wow! #all this to say i might go find a writing questions ask meme if people would be interested in my answers lmao i’m feeling Some Kinda Way tod

[teaspoonnebula]

Hullo, I am so sorry if this ask is a weird one but. You are in the fandom for a long time, and I need to know, is it me or is the ACD SH fandom *not* insane?? Everywhere else where I've been, I see people turning on each other, fighting over characters and the morality of liking them and not liking them, telling people to go kill themselves and here. I have been in this corner of Tumblr for a few months now, and everybody seems normal? Am I just not deep enough yet to sew the drama, or is this really just a place where people hang out to enjoy something together??? Are we just too old of a fandom to do this?

(feel free not to answer if this is too weird or anything)

Sorry my reply got really long. I've broken it up with memes in the hope that it makes it more readable.

I've been in the fandom for a few years now, and I don't have much to compare against because I've generally avoided fandom spaces because they seem pretty intense (and I've not had a piece of media grab me quite like this before) but yeah it seems pretty chill?

I think there are lots of possible reasons why.

It might be that the fandom skews a little older, with lots of people who have enough life experience to know how to de-escalate tension when they encounter it, and when to walk away from the keyboard.

It might be that there's a century-old understanding that we're all playing a silly tongue-in-cheek game with characters from magazine stories that were never supposed to be analysed this way. Remember the term "canon" as used in fandom circles was invented by Sherlock Holmes fans (specifically my boy Ronald Knox) as a joke, a deliberate cute misapplication of a term used for discussing the Bible to something frivolous. Not taking yourself too seriously is very baked into Sherlockian culture.

I sometimes get glimpses from other fandoms of this puritanical attitude that to like or not like a character or a piece of work is somehow a moral act, and I find that... bewildering. A bit scary. To be a fan of Sherlock Holmes is inherently to love something dearly which also contains things which should be hated: racism, sexism, imperialism. I think that fans tend to be people well used to approaching literature with the level of nuance required to process that dichotomy. To acknowledge it rather than hide from it.

It might also be because it's public domain. A big blockbuster movie or pastiche by a celebrated writer is precisely as legitimate as every fanfic on Ao3. Or the CGI movie where they're gnomes. Or a slightly wonky point and click game someone is obsessively making in their spare time (...coughcougheveryonewishlist 'The Beekeepers' Picnic' onsteam) Sherlock Holmes belongs to everyone equally regardless of how much money and power they have, which is why I love it.

Like, I love him as a character, I love the Victoriana, I love the mysteries, but the #1 reason I've gone gaga over Sherlock Holmes these past few years is the joy of loving a thing which isn't controlled by a corporation and which does not exist to make money (anymore).

I'm not saying there's zero drama because I think when you get a bunch of people passionate about something there will always be a little drama. I'll see things like the jostling of people who are very protective of asexual readings of Holmes and people who are very protective of gay readings of Holmes, things like that. Feelings can run high when personal identity is involved. But I've never seen anything got too vicious.

Errrr yeah idk if you wanted an essay as a response but you got one!

#sherlock holmes #acd holmes #fandom #ask #thoughts

[babybluebex]

my latest dom “fantasy,” whatever you wanna call it, has been ur the actor who plays niece elise in the holdovers and you two like each other when filming but since your part is small you don’t see each other till a streaming of the movie when you reconnect. 🤗

oh my god stop the presses this is CUTE

you're kinda joking together and laughing inbetween takes, but you're both nervous because you have to kiss and neither of you have ever done that before (kissed other people, yes, but on screen, for the whole world to see, never) but dom's a sweetheart and you do the scene and it goes off without a hitch, and you're maybe a little disappointed when alexander payne says they got the shot they needed and that you don't need to do it again

and like yeah, you're only on set for like 1 day, and you managed to follow dom on instagram but like sorta forgot about him inbetween filming and release time?? like you both got busy and just, whatever, but then the movie comes out and at first seems like it's just gonna be any other movie, you still post pictures from set on your instagram and celebrate it, and, for the first time since meeting him, dom comments on your post "so much fun, if you're ever around my way, text me" and you're like ⁉️

and you shoot off a dm at him, sorta like "hey i was finally able to watch the whole movie and you did really good" and he texts back like "aw thanks, that's really sweet" and you ask "back then, you lived in massachusetts, where are you now?" and he says "i'm in philly right now for school, but i'm taking spring semester off, so i'll probably go back to jersey with my mom"

and you start talking like every day then, now that the door is open you can't stop, he's always sending you memes and telling stories, and you send him memes about HIM as you watch him become the new it boy (and maybe you're a little jealous bc he was YOUR boy first, he was YOUR little secret, but not so much anymore), and THEN the movie starts to get acclaim?? and it looks like it might be something more than some movie you made a few years ago for a single day?? it's turning into something bigger than that?? all your friends at uni knew that you were in the movie and had gone and seen it and teased you about the kiss, but now you're getting stopped by strangers on the way to lecture and asked about the movie?? like wtf!!

and you and dom are steady texting every day like "DUDE" "DUDE I KNOW", and it starts getting awards buzz, all the best actor and best supporting actress and breakthrough actor and everything is WILD, and you're always texting him to congratulate him winning this award or that award, and you slowly start to realize. oh shit i have a crush on him. oh fuck i'm whipped for this guy.

and the day the oscars nominees are announced, you're in lecture, and your phone starts ringing and yelling at you, and your lecturer is like "do you need to take that?" and you sorta laugh "no, whatever it is, it can wait..." and you finally dig your phone out of your bag and see it's dom wanting to video call?? which doesn't happen often, for as famous of an actor as he is now, he hates seeing himself on camera and even if you do video call, his camera is off most the time, so for HIM to initiate a video call is VERY bizarre "... actually, sir, i do need to take this, i'm sorry"

and you go in the hall and answer the call, and dom is yknow DOM, messy frizzy hair and his shirt on backwards and he's frantic, and you're like "did you just wake up, what's going on??" and he says "have you seen yet?!" "seen what??" "jesus christ, i can't fucking believe this—" "dominic, what's going on?" "holdovers has been nominated for best picture at the oscars"

and you black out for a second and snap back in and you're like "we're WHAT"

and dom says "what're you doing on march 10th?? can you come to the oscars?? do you even want to??" "yeah i'd love to, but i-i need to get to LA, and i need a dress, and i need a date—" "how about me? i'll take you"

and when you reunite in los angeles for the oscars, it's the first time you've seen him in the flesh in like nearly 2 years, but you run to him and hug him, and he hugs you back, and it's such a happy moment and you can't believe that this is your life

and all night, people are complimenting your dress and your hair and makeup, and dom won't stop trying to get people to pay attention to you, he's in a little interview on the carpet and he's asked who his date is, and he grabs you by the hips "my wonderful costar, she played elise in the movie" and everybody has the same reaction, they hear your character's name and then stare at you for a second until it clicks "oh! you did so good in the movie!!"

and dom is so nervous and anxious all night, he sorta joked "i know we won't win, there's no shot in hell, oppenheimer's gonna win, so why am i nervous??" and you hold his shaking hands in yours and try to calm him as much as possible, but cameras catch you holding hands and the way he whispers in your ear to talk to you, and like HALFWAY through the show, your friends sends you a link to a variety article that mentions the best dressed at the awards, and dom is on there, and the little text blurb under his picture says "sessa is attending the show with his girlfriend and costar" and your friend is like "GIRLFRIEND??" and you're like "wait" and apparently everybody online has mistaken your physical closeness for a relationship, and you show dom during a commercial break just to be like "oh haha look at this, they think we're dating"

and he hits you with the "are we not?" "what do you mean 'are we not'?" "i mean, i thought... i thought we've been dating for a while. i've been telling people all night that you're my girl" and you shiver with delight at how casually he says his girl, but like "you thought... well, when would we have started dating?" "you remember a few months ago, the conversation we had about how, like, i'm bad at relationships and you don't like commitment, and i said i'd try to be better and you said you'd try to commit to someone? i thought that was us agreeing to start dating"

and like shit yeah you DO remember that conversation, it was like 3am and you were on facetime for HOURS that night and you're like "oh! well... yeah, that can be it." and dom's like "sooo.... does that mean i can kiss you?" and it's a gentle, soft kiss, just like your first one so long ago

and that night, you reunite with paul and da'vine (who you had met in passing on set), and towards the end of the night, da'vine sends you a photo she took on her phone of you and dom, holding each other, foreheads touching, giggling together, and you hard launch your shit on instagram with that picture "we may not have won best picture, but i won best boyfriend <3"

#bex answers #anon ask #dominic sessa x reader #i got carried away lmao

[sparklingsin]

— say you want me too | robin buckley

+ robin buckley x fem!reader

summary: "are you really that oblivious?" in which robin thinks the reader is straight, when she's definitely not. [requested by @taylorsmylover]

tags: just fluff, getting together, robin pov, confident reader

a/n: first robin fic! i love her sm. yes, this fic is inspired by that popular girl applying makeup on another girl meme. hope you enjoy reading it! feedback is appreciated. <3

Robin thumps her head against the side of the giant shelf. A couple of tapes come tumbling down from the top and Steve, who had been casually leaning against the opposite wall, scowls at her in distaste.

"Ugh. I wish she would look at me like that," Robin whisper-sings, feigning ignorance about the tapes. Her gaze is hooked on you, talking to a random blond, leaning casually across the counter. Your lips are stretched into a toothy smile and Robin can't help but think you might be in the middle of flirting.

Steve groans loudly, moving to pick up the fallen tapes.

"Jesus Christ, this again. She does, Robs! You're just never looking at her when she is."

Robin watches as you laugh coyly at something the guy says.

"She likes guys, Steve," Robin says, like a mantra at this point, trying to get herself to move on. You like guys. You like guys. You like guys. Boys. Men. Not girls. Not women.

Certainly not her.

"So? She could like girls too," Steve argues. The pile of tapes in his hand is high but Robin makes no effort to help.

"Ya know, she's always wearing that shirt you complimented that one time."

So not true. But, admittedly, you are wearing it right now. It's a bright orange top, with faded hems and a slightly scandalous neckline but Robin loves how it brings out your eyes.

God, you're biting your lip now and Robin has never felt such privation before.

"Shut up," she mumbles, spellbound by your laughter. "It's just coincidence. Happenstance. Yesterday, she was wearing that pink dress that makes her look like a pr—"

"Yeah, yeah we know you're in love but then explain why she made a face when you asked if I could tag along for your night out?" Steve questions and Robin opens her mouth before shutting it in response.

Steve smiles smugly. Too soon.

"Maybe she doesn't like you. Lot of people don't like you, you ever think about that, huh, Harrington?" Robin disses and the smirk on Steve's mouth fades.

"Well. You like me," he counters.

Robin shrugs, turning back to look at you once more. You're patting the dude's shoulder and ugly, ugly envy trickles down her chest.

"Anyway," Steve hisses, "She made a face 'cause she wanted it to be just the two of you. Take a fucking hint."

Robin doesn't have time to respond, because the blond man has already left and you're now making a beeline right to her.

"Hey Robin, Steve," you say, still smiling cheerfully. Much like the radiant sun, your presence warms her skin. Robin can feel her body start to tingle like it has been doing lately, every time you are in her vicinity.

"So... I just wanted to ask if we're on for tonight still?" you ask, looking in between them both and Steve turns to Robin, waiting for her to answer.

Robin's lips seem to be sealed shut and Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah w—"

"A-about that," Robin shuts him off loudly, suddenly finding her voice, and you blink back, surprised. "Sorry— er, Steve's not going to be able to make it actually," she continues, lowering her voice and wringing her hands.

"I'm not?" Steve asks just as you say, "He's not?" and you look between the two of them again, clearly confused.

Robin and Steve exchange quick glances. He sighs, something passing over his features.

"I'm not, yeah— I've got this... thing—" Robin shoots him a look, "I've got to babysit my kid's sister— er I mean my sister's kid. So I won't be able to come, sorry."

You look between the two of them, before shaking your head slowly.

"Um, sure okay," you say pressing your lips into a thin line and then turn to Robin. "I'll see you at my place at eight then?"

Robin nods, smiling in a way that she hopes isn't creepy but the look on your face says otherwise. You nod then, excusing yourself from the two of them.

Only once you leave does Robin realise that she'd been holding her breath all this while and lets go, sagging against the shelf.

"My kid's sister, Steve?" she asks wearily.

Her best friend makes a face at her. "So I fumbled. Big deal. I was just taken aback. A little heads up would be nice next time," he replies defensively.

Robin drags her hands down her face in exasperation.

Maybe they really are fated to be alone forever.

"But— you don't even have a sister!"

***

It is entirely plausible that Robin's a little too obsessed with you for her own good. She spends half an hour solely on deciding what to wear, settling on black jeans and a tank top in the end; fifteen minutes doing her hair only to get frustrated and let it down as is and then another ten minutes outside your door, scouting for the courage to ring the doorbell.

All the dilly-dallying proves to be worth it, however, because she's finally in your room, sitting on your bed as you stand beside it, hands on hips and deep in thought. You're wearing a cute crop top that says "Filthy Animal" over teeny jeans shorts, your lipstick a shade of red that she can't help but think would look lovely on her own skin.

Now, maybe, Robin is setting herself up to get a massive heartbreak when she (inevitably) finds out that you're not into her but that doesn't mean she's going to think rationally and pass up on the opportunity to hang out with you.

It simply isn't her style.

"I think this is closer to your style," you say, handing her a black dress with long bell sleeves. Robin does think it's pretty but she's never worn anything other than jeans and overalls before.

"You really think this'll fit me?" she asks.

"My sister's the same size as you, hon'. It's gunna fit."

Robin shrugs, rising to stand up from the bed.

"Wait!" you shout, gently shoving her shoulder to stop her from getting up.

"Not that you don't look absolutely beautiful without it," you say nonchalantly, reaching for a large box on your dressing table, "I really want to do your make-up."

Robin only absently agrees to the last part because her brain stopped listening the moment you called her absolutely beautiful. Beautiful. You called Robin beautiful.

Her brain barely catches up from it's derailing before you're whipping out foundation and brushes and Robin has to shake herself to the present.

"Whoa, whoa. I've never done this before," she says and a grin tugs at your lips that makes her insides warm.

"I'd pictured you saying that in a different setting, but we'll make do," you quip and Robin's brain just about shuts down. For the first time in ever, Robin can't think of words. Whatever the hell do you even mean? Did she hear you right?

"Okay. Why don't you lean back down so I can do your eye make up better?"

Robin's brain is having a hard time coping with everything that's happening. Her hands pushes her back onto your bed on their own accord, resting half her back and head on a pillow. She watches, with bated breath, as you climb onto the bed and crawl over her. You place your knees on either side of her, brushes in hand and lean over.

You're just barely hovering over her, not quite sitting, but Robin just about dies. You pick the eye-shadow with the brush and softly ask her to close her eyes.

Robin thinks she might combust.

Your warm breath fans her face as you gently dab the powder onto her eyelids, painting out the corners and the outer wing.

"What do you think about red?" you ask, voice lower than usual and Robin struggles to figure out what you're talking about.

"Like, the color?"

You chuckle. "Yeah, the color."

"I like it. It's the color of so many of my favorite things. Steve's car, a bag I bought in high-school, this old book I have from when I was a child. My mom's purse, the color of your lipstick and—" she bites her lip.

It was better when she didn't have words to say.

You continue to dab the eye-shadow on the other eye. Robin thinks this might be where you might call everything off, you might end your friendship with her.

"You like the color of my lipstick?"

Something faint blooms in Robin's chest. A wet tip presses against her eyelid— eye-liner.

"Yeah, it's— it's uh. It's a pretty shade." Looks good on you, Robin wants to add but the words die in her throat.

You brush her cheeks with what she assumes is the blush.

"Would you like me to apply it on you?"

That something fizzles and fades away in her chest.

"Sure," she agrees, heart folding in on itself tighter than she'd expected.

"All done," you say and Robin opens her eyes. You're still looming over her, lower lip tucked in between your teeth, as your eyes skim over her face.

She feels hot everywhere all of a sudden and hyper aware that you're leaning so close, hovering right above her stomach.

"Should I get changed, then?" she asks, when two minutes later you're still looking at her and have said nothing.

Her words seem to jolt you and you hop off of her, which immediately makes Robin feel cold all over.

"Oops, yeah. You can change in the bathroom," you say, pointing to the door opposite to you.

In the bathroom, she has to take a second to calm her racing heart. Having your crush sit on top of you like it's nothing... well, it's not nothing. And all those things you said about her being pretty and the double entendre— did you do that with all your female friends?

Robin knows she's going to get hurt. That somethings are simply too good to be true and her good might downright be unachievable. And yet, she tries the dress and it slips on like a glove. It is an almost perfect fit, the sleeves flowing down her long arms nicely, the hem falling down to her mid thighs.

You've given her almost silver, glittery eye-shadow and a lipstick that isn't the red you had been talking about. She looks almost like her natural self, save for the glittery eye-lids and flowy dress. But it isn't too uncomfortable, she thinks she might even look good. Checking herself out in the mirror one last time, she takes a deep breath and steps out.

"Tada!" she says nervously, drawing your attention since you have your back to her.

Robin thinks she imagines it but your jaw almost drops.

She begins to fiddle with the hem of her sleeves.

"Thanks for not putting on too much of the make-up, I'm just not used to it haha. And the dress," she pats down her thighs, "it's almost perfect, I might have to come over and borrow more of your sister's clothes because, well, even though this is, perhaps, the opposite of my style— I do kind of like it and—" she stops when she sees a smile creep up your face.

"What?"

"You're adorable," you say, stepping closer.

Robin feels heat creep up her cheeks. She rubs her neck nervously.

"Thanks."

"And shit," you say, stepping closer, until you're inches from her face. Your gaze definitely dips to her lips and back up, something dark flickering in your eyes.

Robin forgets how to breathe.

"You look so incredibly hot in this outfit," you say casually and all blood rushes to Robin's face. You're standing so close, gaze fixated on her face, skimming over her features like you can't get enough to look.

For the millionth time that night, Robin finds herself at a loss for words. It's like her tongue ties itself in your presence.

"You always look hot." You're whispering now.

"Robin Buckley—" you begin, stepping impossibly close, breath hot on her face. Heat flashes through her, tendrils of a tigngling sensation snaking all across her body.

"— You drive me insane."

All thoughts evaporate from Robin's head, leaving a bubbling mass of one surviving question.

"You... like me? Like that?" she says, before she can stop herself but she's stunned by your words to care.

You chuckle, that pretty laugh that stings Robin's heart in all the right places. You step closer and your hand finds it's way to her waist. Her breath hitches in her throat.

"Are you really that oblivious?"

And then, you're tilting your face and kissing her, a gentle brush at first that makes the ground slip from beneath her feet. The mere contact of your cheery red lips sends her head spinning. Your hands card through her hair then, cupping her jaw and pulling her further in this time.

The kiss presses deep into her body, lips moving against hers with fervour once she overcomes the initial shock. It's nothing like she's ever experienced — a hot want travels through her being when you push your bodies closer.

When you have to inevitably come up for air, the first thing Robin notices is that your lipstick is smudged all over your face.

It's the most incredible thing she has ever seen.

You pull her in again, biting your lip devilishly and looking up at her with half-lidded eyes that make her chest do flips.

"My lipstick looks so much better on you."

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley #robin buckley x fem!reader smut #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley x you #robin buckley smut #robin buckley fluff #stranger things x you #robin buckley hc #robin buckley fic #mywriting* #mywriting

[noirvette]

clyde and tweek! gen dating headcanons!!

cws: none! just fluff

♡ CLYDE DONOVAN

Was nervous to ask you out but he acted like he wasn't, but his awareness for how to ask you out smoothly was lacking.

He'd ask you out in class, him sitting in front of you. During work time he'd spin around to ask about a certain homework question and if you could tutor him/help him with the answers.

"Y/n? Hey can you help me?" "Yeah, uh... with what?" "Oh just what we're working on.. does Friday after school work with you? We could grab coffee?" "Clyde why do you need help on an 'About Me' essay?" "🧍‍♂️" "Sure though, I'd love to go out with you."

He spends the rest of the class time with his head in his hands bro, he's so embarrassed. He's stoked you agreed though.

Always puts his your needs and wants above his

He might "complain" about it but he's not actually complaining, he always wants to make sure you're happy

Loves PDA, but like enough for people to obviously understand you're together, but it's not over the top. He doesn't want to constantly be kissing you or something, just constant skin contact

He LOVES talking about you. He sits at his lunch table with his friends and the first topic he brings up is you, how good you look, how smart you are, as long as it's about you, he's talking.

Sends you random memes and reaction pics that just work?? Like he has a picture for EVERYTHING. Constantly texts too, he wants you to know he's engaged in conversation. Would and will respond in 2 seconds to anything you say.

If he doesn't it's because he's actually busy, which happens when his sports season rolls around (I see him on the football team w/ Stan and maybe baseball?), however he makes sure to text you before and after training/work outs/etc.

Maybe? controversial? But he's a little spoon. He wants to be held. Loves it.

Likes kissing the top of your nose or your temple. Like before you enter class, he pulls you into him, quickly kisses your temple, and off he goes to his own class.

Won't accept you paying. He pays for everything, he has to. He feels terribly if you end up paying, and if it does happen, he buys you something to make up for it: jewelry, coffee, something you eyed at the store last week, shoes, etc. WHATEVER IT IS, he bought it to "pay you back".

One time he thought you were ignoring him and he sent you an apple cash/venmo of like 10 dollars and was like "babe what'd i do, im sorry :("

When you're hanging out with his friends, he wants you attached to him, not out of jealousy or because he doesn't trust the guys he just loves you so much and wants you around him.

Arms wrapped around your waist as you sit on his lap you feel me?

If you leave for the bathroom or to get a drink or something, you come back and he's sitting still, face down on the table pouting.

Doesn't know how to respond to rants or vents though, like at all. Honestly if you send him a long message about how terribly your day went he'd very briefly scan it and respond with a "nta, divorce" and you're like "CLYDE WHAT???"

Atp it might be better to just call him and tell him your complaints.

♡ TWEEK TWEAK

Doesn't know how to ask you out at all. Is overwhelmed by the possibility that it could go wrong and he ends up psyching himself out every time he's about to ask you out.

Honestly unless you ask out Tweek or some invisible force pushes you two together, you guys wouldn't start dating.

Getting his attention wasn't hard, he finds himself often taking loving glances at you through out school.

Once you ask him out he kind've.. freezes and then pinches himself. He's gotta prove this isn't the dream he's had for the past week. Once he knows it's not, he agrees, a blush taking over his whole face.

I know I keep writing these guys as not big fans of pda but I swear I only see a few of the sp guys as fans of pda 😭 (Like I only see Kenny, Butters, and Clyde as the major pda guys mb guys). Loves just holding hands though. Having his fingers intertwined with yours makes him smile.

He's often less stressed out around you, finds himself coming to you when he's anxious about something.

If he's anxious about something all he wants is to be heard, not being told solutions (this is canon but yk gotta still say it). There are times where a solution would be best and he understands then, but it annoys him if all you give him is "how" to fix the situation rather than just hearing him out

Maybe? controversial? I feel as if tweek texts pretty clearly. a few typos (but who doesn't have typos), but he doesn't have constant typos.

Loves using emojis though, he likes how he can express himself easily with them rather than using just words. Especially because there are times where he just doesn't understand how to express himself and he sees an emoji that works perfectly

Likes music sharing. He makes playlists that are just dedicated to you and he sends them to you.

He also likes calming songs (? idk think like the neighborhood, tv girl, lana del ray, cigarettes after sex, etc.)

Is another small spoon when cuddling. LOVES cuddling actually. He can fall asleep so easily with you in his arms and he's never felt more at peace than when you guys cuddle.

Also likes facing you when lying down next to you. His arm draped across your waist and his face against your chest bro, he's knocked out.

Doesn't like really public dates, occasionally wants the fun amusement park date, but if you're going to do public dates, he likes a simple atmosphere, like at an aquarium or a museum.

I feel like his love languages are quality time and words of affirmation.

Sometimes he gets in his head and believes you aren't actually with him because you love him and it's some sort of prank or scheme.

Please reassure him :(, all he needs is a constant "I love you" and he's doing better.

#clyde donovan #tweek tweak #tweek x reader #clyde donovan x reader #tweek tweak x reader #clyde donovan headcanons #tweek tweak headcanons #south park #south park x reader #south park headcanons #fluff

[universal-imagines]

☾ found feelings

fandom: haikyuu!! pairing: nishinoya x reader word count: 1.2k request: perhaps a scenario with nishinoya comforting his crush when they get rejected by their own crush. maybe ending with them realizing that nishinoya is better then their crush anyway?  

a/n: this request has been in my inbox since i first made this blog, and it’s been written for about as long too i just never got around to transferring it from my notebook to my computer but here it is now! i had to make a separate post from the ask cause the set up was all weird. this might also be the last post i make with banners cause i lost all my old ones and no longer have photoshop ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )

please do not use any of my works, in any shape or form, without permission.

He knew. Call it a libero's intuition, if you will.

The moment Nishinoya's cell phone rang, almost vibrating its way off his nightstand, he stopped what he was doing to answer. Only one person would call him this late, and today of all days too. But something told him it wasn't about the positive response you'd wanted.

Congratulating himself on another good save, he allowed himself a tentative smile along with his usual greeting.

For a couple of minutes, all he got in response was a sniffle. But he was patient. If volleyball had taught him anything, it was waiting for the right time to move.

"They rejected me," you finally voiced his suspicions.

A part of him couldn't help but be relieved. As mean as that was, he was afraid of missing his chance. When you first told him about your crush, he'd felt a tinge of pain in his chest. And his stomach twisted every time you gushed about them. It was eating at him. He should have been happy for you, but it hurt hearing you talk about someone else. It was worse than missing a crucial point in a match.

The other part of him was heartbroken on your behalf. He knew just how much of yourself you put into that confession. It was nothing short of pouring your heart out. He knew because he had listened to you practice, day in and day out, as you worked yourself up to confess. So hearing you so broken about getting rejected hurt and made him angry. This person he didn't even know didn't deserve your affection, much less your tears.

"I'll be right over." He wanted to say so much more, but that could wait until he could comfort you in person.

A heavy sigh of frustration left Nishinoya's body as he let his phone drop onto his lap. He had every intention of keeping his promise of coming over, but he had to compose himself first. What kind of impression would he give if he looked ready to beat someone up? Probably not a bad one cause it showed he had his friend's back, but there was more to it than that. And he wasn't ready to explain it all just yet.

But he was ready to get some late-night comfort food, however. All your favorite snacks and meals were at the top of his checklist, along with two pints of ice cream.

Two convenience store stops later, among other places, Nishinoya made his way toward your house. It wasn't a long walk, but after his 35-minute detour, he arrived at your home almost an hour after promised.

One knock. Two knocks. Three knocks it took for you to open the door. As expected, a puffy-eyed [ name ] appeared in the doorway. The sight of you almost sent him on a rant, but he stopped himself.

"Sorry for taking a while..." he searched for your eyes, "But I'm armed with snacks." The last bit came out as more of a question than a statement. He wasn't sure how enthusiastic he was allowed to sound, so he wanted to assess the situation first.

You didn't even look at the bag of goodies he brought before enveloping him in a hug.

"Yeah... sorry," he whispered, doing his best to return the hug.

Finally moving from the door, both of you ended up in your room. It was quiet for a while, but not in an awkward way. You were both just enjoying a pint of ice cream. The silence might have lasted longer if it weren't for Tanaka, who sent Nishinoya a meme.

'Damn Tanaka,' Nishinoya thought as he scrambled to silence his phone.

"They said they never gave me any reasons to get my hopes up. That... they could tell I liked them and went out of their way to make it obvious they weren't interested, but..." You drew a shaky breath. "I can't believe I didn't notice. I must have been so annoying."

"Did they seriously say that?" Nishinoya's blood was boiling.

You nodded, needing another moment to gather yourself. "I could even feel how annoyed they were." "What an ass. You'll probably think I'm saying all this because I'm your friend and would take your side in any situation, but he didn't deserve you. If that jerk could not see how amazing you are, that's on them. Not you. It just sucks you got your heart broken because of someone like that."

Nishinoya was glad to see you roll your eyes at him because it meant you were feeling slightly better.

"I don't know about being amazing and all that. If that were the case at least one person out there would like me, but there's no one." You shrugged.

"There is." The response slipped out on its own. "I'm sure there is," he quickly added.

"Doubt it."

"Why?"

"Because... well, because no one has ever said anything." You threw your arms up in defeat.

"What if they're afraid of telling you? Of getting rejected? You just found out how much it hurts."

"Yeah... you're right."

'Stupid. Stupid Noya.' He would shoot himself in the foot if he could.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-" He was panicking over what to say to fix his mistake.

"No, it's okay. You're right. After what happened today, I don't picture myself confessing to anyone ever again. And if anyone does confess to me one day, I know I'll never be that mean."

Nishinoya chuckled. "Being let off easy still hurt, you know."

"Sure, but it can't be as bad as being outright rejected on top of being ridiculed for confessing." You crossed your arms and huffed, but he could tell it was more for show.

"Can't argue with that," he shrugged. "So, is it safe to assume you're less upset about getting rejected but more about how they went about it?"

You nodded with a soft smile.

"I hope you know that ass really didn't deserve you. Besides, you can do so much better!"

"Oh yeah," you chuckled. "I deserve someone who will cherish me and treat me right. Someone who will bring me pizza at midnight."

"Ha, I've done that." Catching himself once again, Nishinoya quickly added, "And it wasn't fun."

"What are you talking about? We stayed up all night watching movies and talking. I remember cause you forgot you had practice the next morning and were dying." You were now laughing.

"Exactly, not fun."

"Whatever."

The night went on like that, harmless banter back and forth with some movies and laughter sprinkled in between. The person who'd ruined part of your day was long forgotten by now.

"You should just stay over at this point. It's 4am, and you don't have practice tomorrow. So it's okay, right?" You were already pulling the blanket over the both of you as you spoke.

"Fine. Just don't kick me off the bed when you wake up in the morning cause you forgot you asked me to stay."

"I only did that once!" You laugh at the memory.

"Once was enough!"

"Okay, okay. I'll make it up to you if I do it again." You scooted a little closer to him and shut your eyes.

"How about you make it up for last time first?"

"With what?" You yawn.

'A date.'

He thought he had said it outloud when he heard the exact same words he was thinking, but you'd been the one to utter them. Maybe it'd been a figment of his imagination, he was tired after all. But he would soon find out they weren't. He would have to wait until morning though, cause you were out like a light.

please do not use any of my works, in any shape or form, without permission.

#nishinoya x reader #nishinoya yu x reader #nishinoya yuu x reader #nishinoya imagine #nishinoya yu imagine #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #nishinoya yuu #*fluff #*oneshot #*scripto

[linawritestwst]

hello!! hopefully i'm not too late for requests ;; can i ask how you think idia, deuce and/or floyd would be taking care of a sick reader? cold/fever, sore throat, etc. idia highest priority if you only wanna write for one boy-- thank you in advance!!

idia, deuce and floyd taking care of a sick reader (gn!reader)

idia shroud.

♡ he is PANICKING. he doesn't know what to do, honestly, he's more anxious about it than you. he knows that he has to help you somehow, but he has no experience at all! he doesn't even know that much about your sickness! like, is this just a common cold or you're actually about to die soon? okay, he's gonna google your symptoms real quick, he's sure that he will be able to find the answer- oh no. oh no, that was a mistake. Y/N DON'T YOU DIE ON HIM DON'T LEAVE HIM ALONE-

♡ idia refuses to leave you even for a second, he's too afraid that your condition will get worse. so ortho decides to help out too! he makes sure idia doesn't spend too much time by your side, he understands that he just cares about you a lot, but he doesn't want his big brother to get sick as well. also you and idia don't have to worry about ortho, because he won't catch your sickness! he finds as much information about your symptoms as he can and idia is the one who brings you medicine and any other things that you might need. he's a little confused, but he's still trying his best and he genuinely wants to help you.

♡ if you're too cold, he will give you his hoodie, he will wrap you up in a blanket, anything to make you feel better! he will make some warm tea for you as well. he will admit, sometimes he gets the urge to just forget about everything and play some games to calm himself down, but he can't do that!! sure, maybe his online friends are waiting for him and he can't take part in this new game event right now, but your health is more important than that! so don't worry, he's not gonna leave you for his silly little games. 

♡ if he can't stay in your room right now, for example, you're too sick or he already spent too much time with you today and it's better for him to leave, he will send you cute pics and memes, hoping that they will make you feel better. he also sends you reminders to take your medicine and constantly asks you about your temperature, if you're feeling okay, etc. he's just very worried!! he can't help you right now even though he really wants to, so he has to support you in some other way!

deuce spade.

♡ ANOTHER WORRIED BOY. oh no, what should he do, what should he do?? he also thinks that it's something very serious and that you will actually die if he does something wrong. he tries to find more information about your symptoms and he also calls his mom to get some advice from her. he's actually not so bad at taking care of you, it's just.. sometimes his anxiety and fear can make everything worse. like no, deuce, it's just a cold, you're gonna be fine, he doesn't have to cry every time he enters your room.

♡ also doesn't want to leave your room, but he understands that he should be careful if he doesn't want to get sick either. he asks you to call him or text him whenever you feel like your condition is getting worse and please don't hide anything from him!! he needs to be sure that you're (at least somewhat) okay!! he even thought of asking someone to check on you when he can't, but.. he definitely can't trust ace with that. cater doesn't seem like a good option as well. trey and riddle already have too many things to deal with and they're too busy.. yeah, looks like he's the only one who can take care of you right now. and he's okay with that! he's your boyfriend, it's only natural for him to be the one helping you recover!

♡ when you need to go and get something, he asks you to stay in your bed and he brings it to you himself. you can't just waste energy like that, you have to rest as much as you can! you can take advantage of that, if you want, for example, if he brings you food, you can ask him to feed you because you can't exactly eat normally right now. congratulations, you managed to fluster him even when you're sick. but he will feed you anyway!! just.. just don't look at him too much, haha..

♡ deuce will most likely end up sick after all of this. he took his job of taking care of you way too seriously and he has to pay the price. hm, maybe you should help him this time- okay, yeah, he won't let you. you just recovered, he can't risk you getting sick again! but you still want to help him in some way, you can't just let him suffer alone after everything he's done for you! oh, maybe you should help him with his homework while he's sick and doesn't have enough energy to do it?

floyd leech.

♡ no thoughts, head empty. he notices you looking and acting kinda weird lately and asks what's going on, but you assure him that you're fine even though you look like you're about to lose consciousness. floyd decides to ask jade about it and he says that you're most likely very sick right now, but you don't want to admit it. you've always been a hardworking type and you didn't want floyd (or anyone else) to worry about you, so you prefer to lie and pretend that you're okay. 

♡ floyd still doesn't exactly understand it, but if it means that you're not feeling well and you need some time to recover, he is NOT gonna let you do any work. no, y/n, you're gonna stay in your room, you're gonna stay warm and cozy, watch movies, take your medicine and rest. if he sees you leaving your room to help someone, he will personally force that person to say that they're fine and they actually don't need your help, so that you can go back and relax. 

♡ .. that's how floyd acts at first. but then, he starts missing you and he hates not spending that much time with you and.. yeah, his mood swings get really bad. he can't stop whining and he refuses to do any work at mostro lounge because everything is too boring without you. he decides to visit you and you think that he just came to check on you, but then floyd lies next to you and says that he doesn't want to leave you. you try to tell him that it's better for him to leave, but he goes "BUT I DON'T WANT TO!! >:(" and hugs you, refusing to let you go. he's really like a little kid, huh.. but you still think he's cute when he's acting like this.

♡ he's more of an "emotional support" type because he doesn't really know much about taking care of you. no, you can't rely on him to remind you to take meds or anything like that, floyd will most likely forget about it, even though he loves you and he wants you to get better. he really hopes you're gonna recover soon, he hates seeing his beloved shrimpy suffering like this! and yes, he's still very affectionate and he constantly hugs you, gives you kisses and cuddles with you even if you're sick. when you mention it, he just says that he's a merperson, so he won't get infected.. probably.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twst x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #deuce spade #deuce spade x reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader

[wasyago]

hi! this is the bunch-a-questions anon. this wont be an ask ask. thank you for answering! it really gives me so much insight about tools and processes, i really enjoy seeing/reading how different artists have different ways in approaching creation of art. it’s all so interesting to me

and oooh i know what you mean about looking at a lot of different artists! it’s inspiration!! i find those things to be amazing too, it’s so cool. it’s like “this spot is inspired by an artist” “this artist draws this like this, so i wanted to try” “i think the way an artist drew this was neat and i wanted to try an implement it” it reminds me of that one post how we, as people, are a mosiac of other people and i believe it to be the same for how artists are too with their art

i feel inspired by the way you draw….. everything!!! it gets me pumped to try and replicate the way you do some things. like the shapes you create, the colors you choose, the way your lineart seems to be so flowy, how dynamic everything feels and how different each drawing you create is from one another (i saw you reblog that meme of like “why shouldnt i draw characters from the waist up and that is SO me, but it’s shoulders up” because drawing full bodies makes mh drawings feel so stiff, i need to practice more!!), the poses of the characters. just.. every aspect of your art is so, so, so nice!!

the way you draw, in all your styles, it’s definitely one of the ones that is such a good scratch to my brain. it gets me all giddy and happy! i’m not sure if i’ll get into jwri, mostly because my attention span will not let me be able sit and focus on listening before i get distracted and miss context on parts, BUT i still go to your blog almost every day just so i can see your art, no matter what it is, no matter who the characters are because it’s always so so good and i love taking it in. (will eat your art if i could, i am so serious)

this was a long one but yeah! i just wanted to let you know how awesome i see your art is! and how i also think youre a cool person, you seem like such a good peep to hang out it! might be weird to say but if you were a blorbo, you would be one of the most blorbiest blorbos to blorbo ever

hope youre having a good day!!

OH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE KIND WORDS THIS IS SOOOOO

your explanation of taking inspiration from other artists was so poetic and beautiful! truly inspiring in itself

its okay if you can't get into jrwi, i get it! i didn't think i would get into it as well and after binging all the episodes i honestly forgot why i even started listening in the first place. remembered recently tho! it was because i was going a little crazy while making the picrew and needed some actual talking in the background instead of just music. so, if you ever decide to give it a try, or listen to something else equally as lengthy, try to busy your hands with something that doesn't require a lot of thinking! it helps me at least! worked both with jrwi and tma. it's like, doing something monotonous (knitting, sorting files, cleaning the house, etc) can be incredibly boring if i sit in silence and let my mind wonder. alternatively, listening to something long or watching a long movie can be incredibly boring as well because i struggle to pay attention to the same thing for two hours. but combining these is really good, because it keeps both my mind and hands busy, but not overwhelmingly so!

and ough ough ough thank you again for such heartwarming message! im so happy to hear that you feel inspired by my art, and i wish you good luck in your own art journey!!!!!!! remember to have fun and listen to yourself and do things that you find interesting and that you enjoy! don't force yourself to draw stuff you don't like! all art is personal and individual, so don't be afraid to make things "you"! you don't have to do clean line, you don't have to do lines at all, you don't have to do coloring or shading, if you don't like it! and if you do like it or are excited to try, you should go for it! don't be afraid to change and grow but don't force yourself into it!

also don't foget to stretch before drawing its very important!!!!!!!!!!!!

#yagotalk

[veliseraptor]

can we have a walking far from home excerpt pls

not sure what brought this on unless maybe it's related to that meme I posted but sure!!

“Why are you so fixated on this,” Xue Yang asked. “Don’t you want me to suffer? Isn’t that what you said?” Song Lan half started to answer and then stopped himself. Had he said that? He tried to remember. He couldn’t recall having said so specifically. But it was, he could recognize, splitting hairs to make the distinction. He didn’t have to say the words to express it. And didn’t have to say the words to mean it. That was the trouble, wasn’t it? Xue Yang was right: Song Lan did want him to suffer. He wanted him to feel every miserable bit of pain he’d caused him and Xingchen and so many others; he wanted him beaten down and broken and begging forgiveness that he would never, never receive. The violence of the thoughts he’d had about what he could do to Xue Yang frightened him. The ease with which he’d already done some things – nothing against the torments Xue Yang had inflicted, but that was not a standard he wanted to live by – sickened him. But that didn’t mean he didn’t crave vengeance. He hadn’t spared Xue Yang’s life out of kindness.  “Yeah,” Xue Yang said, reading Song Lan’s silence correctly. “So there you go.” Song Lan grimaced, closing his eyes and taking a moment to center himself before saying, “whatever – baser urges I might have, as I’ve said, that isn’t how I want to conduct myself. With anyone.”  Xue Yang looked away from him. “Seems to keep happening, though,” he said. “So much for daoshi discipline, huh?”  “You are remarkably good at trying my patience,” Song Lan said. Xue Yang’s eyes darted back in his direction and he laughed; this one sounded significantly less wild than some of his others.  “It’s not just you, Song-daozhang,” Xue Yang said, his voice suddenly bright and lilting. “I try plenty of other peoples’ patience too.”

#conversating #anonymous #i need to get back to this one #fic excerpt #song lan #xue yang

[mariana-oconnor]

The Dancing Men pt 3

Last time things took a turn for the decidedly worse with our client dead and his wife suffering a bullet to the brain. All because of the idiosyncracies of British public transport and Holmes dislike of giving away any hint of what he is thinking until he has all his ducks in rows.

Also he sent a 'youth' with a message to a murderer.

If any visitor were to call asking for Mrs. Hilton Cubitt no information should be given as to her condition, but he was to be shown at once into the drawing-room. He impressed these points upon them with the utmost earnestness. Finally he led the way into the drawing-room...

“I think that I can help you to pass an hour in an interesting and profitable manner,” said Holmes...

There are so many ways a sentence like that could end...

👀

...spreading out in front of him the various papers upon which were recorded the antics of the dancing men.

Ah, yes... puzzle time again. What else could he have meant?

And now we are having a code-breaking lesson. Love a good code-breaking lesson. Really it's their own fault for not using a more complex cypher; simple substitution cyphers are always going to be easy to break. You need to make it more complicated. Like, every six letters the symbols move one letter earlier in the alphabet or something like that. Or muddle the letters up in a prearranged pattern.

"...it was probable from the way in which the flags were distributed that they were used to break the sentence up into words."

I understand that these encrypted messages led to death and misery, but this is adorable. The letters at the ends of the words carry little stop flags.

"It might be ‘sever,’ or ‘lever,’ or ‘never.’"

Or defer or deter or meter or Peter or Meier or vexed...

“I expect him here every instant.” “But why should he come?” “Because I have written and asked him.”

Bless his heart. Got to wonder what Inspector Martin thought Holmes was doing by drawing out a lot of little dancing men and then sending them to the person he just named in his little explanation.

It's not a massive leap of logic.

"I may have threatened her, God forgive me, but I would not have touched a hair of her pretty head."

My dude, you literally told the woman to prepare to meet her god. I do not know why you are surprised that people would think you wanted to hurt her. That is not the sort of thing you send messages about when you don't want to hurt someone.

"I tell you there was never a man in this world loved a woman more than I loved her. I had a right to her. She was pledged to me years ago. Who was this Englishman that he should come between us? I tell you that I had the first right to her, and that I was only claiming my own."

That is not how love works.

“You wrote it? There was no one on earth outside the Joint who knew the secret of the dancing men. How came you to write it?”

Dude, it's literally just a substitution cypher.

“It is my duty to warn you that it will be used against you,” cried the inspector, with the magnificent fair-play of the British criminal law.

“First of all, I want you gentlemen to understand that I have known this lady since she was a child."

I used the beheading gif too early. I memed too far, too fast.

"I wrote to her, but got no answer."

Some might say that is an answer.

"Of Mrs. Hilton Cubitt I only know that I have heard she recovered entirely, and that she still remains a widow, devoting her whole life to the care of the poor and to the administration of her husband's estate."

Glad she recovered, sad for literally everything else.

Yeah, this is a sad one. And so dumb... like... get over yourself. She's married to someone else and she's not replying to your messages. Just move the fuck on. Wow.

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #The Dancing Men #long post

[jovenshires]

9, 10, 28, 29 bestie !!

tyyyy bestie <3<3<3

9. What fic meant the most to you to write?

my wife, my best friend, the project i will always carry with me, dancing on my own. nothing like dealing with your own issues through the lens of a gamer boy who lives off of mountain dew kickstart and jurassic park movies <3<3

10. What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

if we keep score was so so so much fun!!!! it really took on a life of its own and i LOVE to worldbuild so even though it was Stressful, i had a good time writing it for sure <3<3<3

28. How did you recharge between fics?

as i told you specifically i literally took like. a work week off. i listened to music, i binge-watched an anime, i went back to work after winter break, i read some of a book. it was great! back to the grind now though <3<3<3

29. If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

i was gonna answer this like a joke but it made me emotional so here are my genuine very real thanks KLNFKNFKLNFKNL

i'd like to thank smosh first and foremost for getting me through what has objectively been one of the most difficult years of my life. the company's been through ups and downs, but so have i, and i find a real genuine comfort in these guys playing board games and making memes so truly thanks so much to them. especially tommy and spencer bc where would i be without them KDNKLSNFK

thanks of course to soupy for being the second person to post a spommy fic and co-pioneering this nation with me. i am so honored to have her as a mutual, a friend, and a peer. her works are incredible and she jumped into the deep end with me when no one else would. and to add onto that i'd like to thank every spommy writer for sharing all of their incredible works, and every spommy nation member for commenting or giving kudos or coming into my askbox. genuinely you all made my year so much better and inspired me to keep creating and keep growing. i love you all so much, there are no words to describe how grateful i am for you <3

thank you to julie, who accepted every insane stray thought, text message, and rambling fic plot. she sat there as i described iwks in detail in my car on the way to the mall. god's bravest soldier. she's truly a real one for that, i might have stopped talking to me by now LMAO. thank you to mauricio for entering back into my life, validating every insane thing i've ever said, and just overall being an amazing friend. we have been through so much together you and i and im honored to be on this crazy journey with you now. shoutout too to snel and baflegacy who have also gotten a TON of my insane ramblings via dms, i adore yall and im so honored to have gotten to know you. <3<3<3

i cannot stress enough how HUGELY thankful i am to stella. when i tell you none of my works would be where they are today without her. she does the very stressful and tedious task of reading over my works for me, and i am forever grateful. like almost none of the fics i've written would be even half as strong as they are without her help. not to mention she's just one of my favorite people on this planet in general; i love talking to her and being in this online space with her and creating with her and yeah. my partner in crime, thank you so so much.

and finally: all of smoshblr in general. i have been here for six years now, and i've never had a fandom feel so much like home. all of my friends and mutuals, new and old, and every other follower of mine to boot. you all know who you are - i adore each and every one of you. thank you for everything. <3

send me fic writer asks!

#long post #fic #mauricio #damn...... tearin up over here bro KNDKFNFKNF #ask #asks #shaynetopps

[lcftyambiticns]

♔ ❛ ℐ serve no 𝐆𝐎𝐃 but that which stares back at me ——— in the 𝒎irror. ❜

𝑰nd. &. sel. 25+ 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐔𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐄 roleplay blog for ℒORROAKAN ; self-appointed MASTER OF RAMAZITH'S TOWER &. GREAT ARCHMAGE of Baldur's Gate. TRIGGER WARNING for dark / adult content.

𝓱is ❛ amakiir ❜ : @shadovan

INFO & LINKS UNDER THE CUT.

HEADCANONS OPEN STARTERS MEME TAG STORIES: ✍︎ ℳEMORIES.

𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

I. GNEREAL I also write on Discord! Feel free to ask for it if we're mutuals c:

25+ ONLY. I'm turning 29 this year, and I'd like to write with people in my age range.

This is no space for OOC drama, IRL political discourse, people who can't differentiate fiction from reality and think it's okay to police adults on what to write on their blogs (go touch some grass). Hard-block. I will also opt for blocking instead of soft-blocking if our rules clash, if you have numerous triggers / DNIs, or to avoid misunderstandings. In most cases, it's nothing against you personally.

Yeah, so. This is a 25+ blog, run by a 25+ mun, and there will be adult content, including but not limited to: violence, abuse, gore, monsters, gaslighting, manipulation, canon-typical fantasy racism and overall offensive / problematic themes. Triggers won't always be tagged. If you're triggered by any of these, this blog isn't for you.

Communication is key!! You'd like to share an idea? Go right ahead. Don't like where the plot is going? Let me know. You want to scream about our muses? YES. Writing is so much more fun if the muns get along. I promise, I don't bite.

II. INTERACTION I'm selective and mutuals only. If I don't follow back, it's likely because you're not a BG3 / D&D related blog, I already have a lot of threads, too much formatting, or I feel our muses / writing styles don't mesh. Additionally, if your rules mention steering clear of the topics / triggers mentioned above, I won't follow. We don't have to write anything that makes you uncomfortable (!!!exclamation mark!!111!), but they might come up.

If I follow you, I want to interact! Don't be shy <3 I will also assume that if you follow me back, you're fine with me sending you memes / tagging you in starters / sliding into your IMs to plot.

MEMES. I'm a feral meme goblin. Please don't ever feel obligated to answer the 517 memes I've sent you (or any at all), and in return, feel free to bombard my inbox. Even if we already have 3,670 threads. Idc fam, send me more. We haven't interacted yet? Meme. I haven't answered your meme yet? My muse probably didn't vibe with it, send another. Send memes. I may not respond to all of them and not every meme will spark a new thread, but... send memes. If you want to turn a meme into a thread, DO IT. No need to ask.

I prefer to keep it simple when it comes to formatting. It looks cool, but reading paragraph after paragraph of double spaced text hurts my eyes.

I'm a big fan of making my muses suffer :D I love angst and exploring dark, gritty plots. If you have any triggers, let me know before jumping into a RP with me, aka the angst queen, so we're all on the same page.

My ADHD often influences my activity. Sometimes I'll reply super fast, sometimes it takes me ages, and sometimes I can only focus on specific threads / muses.

III. DUH Mun =/= Muse, I obviously don't condone any of Lorroakan's bs IRL. He isn't a nice person. He is a toxic, abusive piece of work. While I will absolutely respect your boundaries OOC (if you talk to me beforehand about them, pretty please with a cherry on top), I won't tone him down on main. If that's not your cup of tea, block buttons exist. Use them.

Please don't soft-block me, I have the memory of a soggy pickle. Hard-block.

Protecting your online space is a mature thing to do, and I promise I'll 100% support that. No questions asked, no hard feelings. We're all here to have a good time.

IV. SHIPPING / RELATIONSHIPS Speaking of having a good time: We're sex-positive and kink-friendly in this house. I enjoy a raunchy smut-driven RP as much as the next depraved soul, but I won't write smut on the dash. The steamy stuff will be moved to discord or IMs.

This blog is multiship, male lean. Matter of fact, I love to ship, so if that's something you'd like to do, slide into my inbox. Fair warning; Lorroakan isn't particularly interested in romance or sex, and he's a prick. Ships will most likely be toxic / one-sided (with the potential to develop into something wholesome over time!).

Pre-established relationships: Yes. I usually don't do romantic pre-established relationships (some exceptions may be made for "what if" scenarios, or if I know the mun), but what if your muse was Lorroakan's childhood bestie? Another (former?) apprentice? A fellow scholar of the arcane he used to work with?

V. MUN They/Them, hatched 1995, dog parent, hyperfixating on problematic villains, D&D player.

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄

GENERAL Lorroakan is in his early-mid 30s, fairly young considering his achievements (mostly obtained through deceitful methods).

He presents himself as the great archmage of Baldur's Gate, but while he is a compentent wizard and keen enchanter, he is nowhere near as powerful as he claims to be.

Lorroakan laid claim to Ramazith Tower after its previous owner mysteriously disappearend, and he refuses to share the knowledge it holds (at least for free).

He is originally from Athkatla, one of the wealthiest cities in Faerun, but he grew up in the shadows of its splendor. His family (mother, father, two sisters, four brothers) could barely make ends meet, but Lorroakan has always been ambitious and harbored dreams of one day being just as wealthy and powerful as the elite of the Gem District. The practice or use of arcane magic is explicitly illegal within the city of Athkatla, but that didn't stop him; he practiced in secret whenever he could get his hands on a spellbook.

PERSONALITY IN A NUTSHELL . . . as interpreted by the mun ; Ambitious, diligent, intelligent, clever, creative ; selfish, arrogant, manipulative, power-hungry, petty, vain.

He has a superiority complex ; he is vain, has an overly high opinion of himself, makes boastful claims that aren't backed up by reality, has a habit of putting down those who outshine him. In truth, behind his inflated ego, he is insecure and has low self-esteem. Not that he'd ever admit that. In fact, he wouldn't even admit it to himself.

(The way I see it) Lorroakan isn't a straight up villain. However, his ambitions and narcissistic nature drive him to commit morally questionable, and at times, outright despicable acts.

CHARACTER STUDIES / RELEVANT HEADCANONS: bad money habits more about his past & why he is how he is

Shippy HCs CONs of being his lover PROs of being his lover NSFW headcanons

#꧁ * pinned ! #DNI.

[ecoamerica]

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The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[copperbadge]

hey sam! i was just ruminating that it's a fantastic time for authors to do dvd commentaries, and other 'ask the author' memes. it's additional material and feedback all in one package! (after we explain what a dvd extra is)

I suppose I'm of two minds about it. My immediate thought was that authors have always done Q&As, but it's true that they used to be less accessible both to readers and to the authors if they weren't big names, because they required travel (and in the reader's case, knowing the author would be traveling, plus having to go out to wherever they were doing the reading). Authors still do book tours and signings for that kind of purpose, but being able to do that kind of thing online as well now makes it easier and cheaper. Although I wonder whether there's less sense of connection because it's not face-to-face. But yeah, I would imagine it's pretty great for gauging what the overall readership is interested in. Certainly in dialogue with readers when I put my books up for review, I always learn a lot.

The idea of a DVD commentary is kind of interesting because I was like "How would that work with a book, though?" and I guess you could annotate an ebook -- like, offer a version with little widgets where if you clicked them you'd get the author adding notes about the book. I've never been a fan of actual DVD commentaries -- I don't like filmed interviews because they take so fucking long to actually say anything, and with a DVD commentary you've now got the addition of "talking over the story". But I could see how if you loved a book you might like having a version where you've got extra notes.

I struggle with the idea of "additional material" somewhat. I suppose that's ironic given how much I discuss outside-of-book on this blog, but that's just....I don't know, it's answering questions, it's not like "building the canon outside of the canon", and if I think something is good enough, it always goes into the books. The whole "They speak English with a Welsh accent" thing was amusing, but then I was like "Yeah let's actually put that in the text, why should it live on Tumblr alone?"

There's so much media now where it feels like if you aren't spending every waking moment interacting with every aspect of it, you just don't get to...be a fan, in an active sense. There are podcasts I follow where if you want to do anything other than listen to the episodes, even if you just want to attend a live show or buy merchandise, you have to dedicate significant time weekly to following them on all the social media and actively read their Patreon. And I just can't. I really like that creators can put that kind of thing out there, I think overall that's to the good, but it feels like something I'm blocked from participating in.

So, I keep all my shit here. I've had it suggested that I'd benefit as a writer from having a newsletter, which I actually agree with, and it seems like it could be entertaining to do. But I get caught up in this dichotomy of "Well, won't people be mad that they have to go subscribe to this thing instead of just reading my tumblr?" and/or "Won't subscribers be aware they can just find all this on my tumblr?" and I get real in my head about it. Because I'd struggle with having to go two separate places for stuff like that.

Uh, to circle back to your actual ask, however, because all that was just like...IDK, weird anxiety digression, I do think it's a great era for extra-canonical material, and while it does mean creators have to be much better at boundary-setting than they used to be, I like that they can adjust their level of interaction as they see fit.

Oh and uh. It's felt awkward to actually talk about it, but if you guys do want more material I do have a sideblog, @shivadh, which is where I stash everything I want to make note of for the books -- research, imagery, stuff I've talked about here that hasn't got a place to go in googledocs yet, that kind of thing. It's not extra material per se, it's just me shoving shit into a filing cabinet, and I don't do image IDs like I do here because it's more for me, plus I do delete posts once I've made use of them. But folks are welcome to follow if they want to.

#writing #books #selfpublishing #indy publishing #rpfreiwaphase

[mushtoons]

System questions!!

-Do most/all of you draw?

-Does one of you post art more often or would you say it's a collaborative effort?

-Do any of you have favourite subject matters to draw? (I think,,, Molly's a sonic fan? For example. Unless I forgor in which case I am embarrassed)

-Does it ever happen that multiple of you wanna draw at the same time? How do you resolve that?

-Do you guys have a cohesive art style, or do some headmates have their own?

Ok questionnaire over!! As always, answer/skip freely.

PS. I love your art sm. I'm eating it actually. Printing out every single piece and putting it on my plate and consuming it

1) most of us draw! we know its different with most systems but since our host grew up loving art its kinda a system wide knowledge/hobbie something we just know we gotta do like reading or writing lol does that make sense? (tho some dont enjoy it like others ect ect)

2) it really depends on who our most frequent front of the month is /hj but most the time we wanna say its a collaborative effort! it really just depends on who drew what and if they liked it enough (or was comfortable enough) to share

3) when people remember small things about our headmates >>>>> everything else /vpos hehehehe but yeah! molly and emily love sonic! thats their favorite thing to draw (but molly will really just doodle whatever a headmates asks her to if she's up to it) red really like drawing slapstick doodles tho! we learned odie is a big fan of drawing hair and another headmates like drawing horror/gore (and this one might not count but rj loves drawing the rise boys specifically)

4) oh god yeah and we still struggle with how to deal with that dhdjjdd it really depends on who's wanting to draw at the same time, red and mikey usually just tag team it like molly and louis but if its like donnie and alex they usually wanna draw two separate things and it ends up like the 'this is fine' meme so basically we end up not drawing honestly lol

5) we're bias on this one! cuz we can usually recognize who drew what (sometimes lol) so to us yes? but to everyone else we dont really know ^^; we do know that two of our headmates have extremely different styles tho! but we dont post their art on the blog lmaoo

DJDJDKRKRK THANK U SM AND THANKS FOR THESE THIS WAS FUN DJDJDJ WE LOVE SYSTEM QUESTIONS

#sorry they were boring answers tho lol #we're just boring simple lil guys #HEHEHEHEHHEHE #wood wide web

[saytrrose]

Hey it’s been awhile since you reblogged that one nsfw ask meme yk what, fuck it why don’t you answer all of them with whatever ship you want 👀

HAHAHAAH OHHH ANON THIS TOOK MULTIPLE DAYS I HOPE YOU ARE HAPPY WITH CHESSPIECES-

———

CHECKMATE NSFW ASK MEME (KINGER X QUEENIE)

———

1. What was their first time like?

Kinda awkward at first, their first time together was Kingers first time with anyone. It was mostly just testing waters, slow and sweet and obviously not perfect but one time turned into another time and another so it must’ve not been that bad !! There was definitely a lot more communication and talking than actions in itself, learning about eachother and what they liked as they don’t immediately know right off the bat, and Kinger barely knows himself anyway.

2. Who usually initiates things?

Queenie is more assertive and overall confident. She usually starts things, but Kinger is not unknown to also do so.

3. How often do they have sex?

Not often actually, it’s not something super important to them in the first place but also, living in the circus kinda sucks and there’s not really a lot of free time in order to do so❗️💔

4. Who is louder/noisier?

Here!

5. Who is more sensitive?

Kinger probably.

6. What's foreplay often like?

They have a lot of prep, after all they are never in a rush. Lots of soft kisses all over, slowly trailing down and massaging- teasing- the teasing is definitely Queenie. Kinger just can’t, is Queenie wants something you mean he has to say no? But yeah, lube, condoms, all the wonderful things before they get into the real thing.

7. Favorite place to have sex?

They’ve probably only done it in their rooms before but for the sake of this question can you imagine if one time they snuck away mid-adventure during the day to like.. the castle or just into the hallway and Queenie pushed Kinger against the wall or hid in there and was being real risky? I’d say they could’ve done something like that once which Queenie loved, but Kingers far too paranoid so he’d prefer their bedrooms.

8. Favorite position to have sex?

Basic/Common positions- Kinger likes missionary most because he’s a vanilla loser but Queenie also loves doggy, pretzel dip, cowgirl- silly silly things that she can’t decide a favorite.

9. Who's best at oral sex/oral headcanons?

This is so funny thinking of them as chesspieces bro anyway I’ll say Queenie.

10. Who's more likely to tickle their partner?

Kinger might to make Queenie laugh a bit but I don’t see tickling to do with anything sexual w them.

11. Who's more romantically sexual?

I’m honestly going to say Kinger, and my reasoning is that Kinger prefers to be more slow and sweet, and Queenie loves that but also when she’s topping then she’s much rougher and quicker. Doesn’t have to do much with romance at first glance but I think with Kingers mannerisms, he draws things out longer.

12. Who's better at dirty talk/dirty talk headcanon?

Queenie hahhaHa but they don’t degrade, they are huge on praise. Kinger gets nervous but he’s still good at it, mumble in between kisses compliments usually- how she’s so pretty and beautiful. Queenie is much better, because she can suppress her noises more easily and focus on her talking. She praises him constantly over every little thing because Kinger always gets unbelievably flustered. While Kinger usually just sticks to small compliments, Queenie likes to comment more on the direct situation- like “you’re doing so good,” “That’s it, you’re such a pretty boy,” “you’re so cute looking up at me like that,” HAHAH and more yk yk.

13. Do they have sexual nicknames or titles?

Here!

14. Who's more likely to be caught masturbating?

I wanna say Queenie because she’s the more sexual one but I also wanna say Kinger because he’s.. not smart idk. Mf would forget to lock the door so yeah. Kinger.

15. Who looks at porn more?

They can’t look at porn in the circus, I’m almost positive Caine wouldn’t allow that lol.

16. Who usually cums first?

Kinger, just by using the logic of men vs women in that area. It’s much much easier and common for the men to..

17. How long can they go?

Kinger is wiped after just one round- I think Queenie could go maybe 3 before she’s sore.

18. What are their safewords?

Here!

19. Any routines?

Ummm I don’t think so! They don’t really stick to the same one thing over and over. However maybe aftercare. It’s very very important to them, and they always take a lot of time to clean up and check in on one another.

20. Do they have a dynamic (Dom/sub) or are they versatile?

Versatile for the most part but Queenie does tend to lean towards dominant and Kinger leans more submissive with his behavior.

21. What roleplay scenarios do they have/want?

I don’t think they really roleplay anything? (This is an excuse to not think hard about it because hhh idk!)

22. What sextoys do they use?

I doubt sex toys are a thing in the circus as well but for the sake of this question I’ll say a strap or vibrators. Haha.. ha.. Queenie… strap..

23. Who, if anyone, would they most likely bring in to join them?

Here!

24. Shared kinks/fetishes?

They are drastically different when it comes to this, Kinger is pretty vanilla and Queenie is quite kinky, however they do both love and share a praise kink.

25. Something they tried and won't do again?

Oh man. Maybe risk play? Queenie thought it’d be super exciting, the thought of almost getting caught but it freaked Kinger out so much they might’ve had to stop. Poor guy is too paranoid for that.

26. What would each member say their favorite thing about the other(s) is?

Kinger would say her eyes, her voice, he’d ramble on and gush about her every feature and aspect of her appearance and then Queenie would be the sort to write on a piece of paper “tits or ass” and write personality instead, and then check off “ass” anyway.

27. Any headcanons not touched on?

Nothing comes to my mind!! I ramble about them oh so much already i just can’t think of anything else eeee

#suggestive #tadc #the amazing digital circus #kinger #tadc kinger #Queenie #tadc queenie #checkmate #tadc checkmate #tadc headcanons

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Sweet Dreams--Part 9

Calum and you have dance around reality for a few months now. But after Calum leaves and returns from a trip, the reality has to be confronted. 

Weeks are passing and maybe more is blooming between you and Calum than might meet the eye.

Prince!Calum x Reader Insert.

CW: Smut (dry humping) in this part. Mentions of using sex to numb feelings. Please read with caution and skip if need be.

Series Masterlist

Complete Masterlist

________________________________

There are certain messages Calum’s used to seeing--ones about meetings that have gotten pushed back, good morning texts from you, one from his parents about some sort of article they came across and wanted to send to him, thinking it would be good for him. There’s the texts from Michael or Luke or Ashton about bullshit--videos, memes, a bad selfie in their thread. There’s the text messages about a cute dog or cat that someone’s spotted in public. Then there are text messages that Calum is not prepared for. Ones that he hopes he never gets accustomed to receiving, that are bearing the bad news. 

However, seeing, If I asked to borrow the back garden or some kind of back yard area to tie dye socks, would that be an immediate no? is the type of text that Calum thinks he would never want to brace himself for. There would be no fun in being prepared for spontaneity. Calum laughs, dragging the towel over his face to wipe away some of the sweat pouring from his hairline. Even with the heat of the summer fading, the long hours on the weekend with the shed still causes a sweat to break out. 

Yes, you could use whatever you needed, baby. 

Excellent, because I may already be here. Are you working on the shed?

Calum taps the icon for a call. It rings, once then twice against his ear. “Hi, love,” you answer. The pet name never fails to send a jolt of desire down his spine. You always say it so softly, like you’re trying to savor the taste of every syllable on your tongue. Sometimes, Calum’s tempted to ask what it tastes like. Does it taste sweet like cotton candy when he calls you baby?

“Hi, baby. Now what is this about needing to dye some socks?

“Charlie wants tie dye socks. The ones in the store don’t have color combinations that he likes. I’ve got some dye from when I had to recolor some shirts that were starting to fade and helping roommates out with stuff. The apartment’s been overtaken because Josie’s invited friends over, which I knew would be happening so it’s not a problem. But I know I have free time and can’t sit still to save my life. You don’t have to say it. Hence why I’m asking to borrow space for a little bit.”

“There’s always space here. Do you need help setting up somewhere? Put you closer to the laundry room--wouldn’t you need that for dying?”

“Yes, I should say, the socks would have to stay there for at least today and then if I could stay the night, I’d rinse them in the morning and take them with me.”

Calum nods, though you can’t see it. “Yeah, that’s okay. Whatever you need.”

Faintly in the background, voices arise from your side of the phone. “You’re supposed to be gone. You can’t tease us like this,” someone hollers. 

Calum just makes out the words but catches your laughter as you respond, “I am a ghost. You do not see me.”

“That’s it, I’m dead. Dead,” the person laughs. 

“Are you still using the service entrance? I have let the guards at the main entrances know about you. You literally can just walk into the front door,” Calum states through his laughter. 

“If I’m honest, my brain just went on autopilot mode and hadn’t realized I’d missed the turn for the main entrance until I was already past it.”

“Habit, huh?”

“You know they say they die hard.”

“It’s alright. Next time, you’ll get it. I’m shocked the codes are still the same for you.”

“I don’t think it’s been deactivated yet. Part of me wonders if Janet’s ever going to deactivate it.”

“She may not.” It shouldn’t shock Calum if Janet decided not too. Though, he does think it might be a tough sale to security. They could win the battle if need be, but Calum worries about that for another day--should it ever come up. “But what do you need for this tie dying venture? A table or something, I’m sure.”

“I can get all that, don’t worry.”

“You sure? At least let me get you a table out from storage, baby.” Calum figures that it might be a mute point, that you might already have the table, but he’s still going to offer. The last thing he’ll do is not attempt to help. After throwing a quick warning back over his shoulder to the guys assisting him, he starts towards the doors. He doubts he can beat you to wherever you’re headed if it’s not directly outside. 

“You’d have to come all the way through the back when I’m already inside to grab it,” you counter. 

You are right. The curse to the size of the castle and its grounds is that sometimes it’s much too big for its own good. Getting anywhere in the residential wing is a bit of a chore--long hallways, limited number of doors. Calum’s sure it’s all due to safety, someone somewhere had a reason for the pain, but that’s not going to stop Calum from trying. Not when he knows it’s for your brother. The last thing he wants to do is get in the way of that relationship. 

“I can at least try,” Calum quips back. He’s never considered himself a track star, but he’s glad for the years he did football. 

“Don’t wind yourself out, love.”

“Is that a challenge I hear?”

Your laughter echoes, skips for just a moment but then your voice filters back in through the speakers. “I wouldn’t dare dream of such a thing. But seriously, I’ve already got a table. You better turn yourself back around.”

Calum continues on, just as he gets to the door, a bit more huffy than he would ever like to admit, he spies you rounding the corner from the hallway storage is on. “Hi baby,” he calls out once you make it closer to him.  

“You’re hardheaded, you know?”

“Only….everyday though.”

You pause in the doorway, table in your grip--it’s a smaller one, but taller so you don’t have to bend down so much with it. “Yet, somehow, I still find myself attracted to it.”

“It’s the boyish charm. Need anything else?”

“Boyish charm,” you laugh, leaning into him a little. “We can call it that.”

Calum meets you, a quick kiss before you continue on through the door he’s holding open. It’s a silly thought, Calum tells himself, as he watches you carry on through the garden. You’re careful as you go, keeping the table a good six inches away from the ground as you go. But something does feel a little different. Your smiles at him melt a little bit more, feel a little bit warmer than before. To see you comfortable enough to ask for a kiss--even a peck as it was--in public made his stomach flutter yesterday. 

The party was about you, so Calum withheld any conversation about it. The thing his parents did teach him was to be mindful of the time and place in addressing certain conversations. But for you to think, well before asking, that the castle would be free to you feels like further confirmation. You are changing, or maybe it’s a bit more like you’re unraveling. Though you and Calum walked in the early stages, you’d never mentioned your siblings. Now with that bit of information revealed Calum seems just how much you care about them--enough to dye socks so they have what they want. 

He can’t say much about your dating life prior. He assumes you might’ve had some experience prior. Calum can say for certainty that building the relationship with him has been slow with you. Worry and concern are the biggest culprits for that. But that seems to be falling slowly to the wayside. Calum won’t take any credit for this. He just watches, carries with him the tiny pieces of how you’d opened up. He does not consider himself a poet; he’s much too meticulous with when and how he shares anything. But if love is watching someone blossom into something more magnificent than they’d ever been before, then he thinks he’d ought to give it a shot to capture the feeling of being witness to it. It’s pride without arrogance, awe without jealousy. An emotion sure pure he’s sure he’s never felt it once since he left his childhood. But he feels it now, watching you pause at tomato plants. 

If all Calum gets to do is watch you grow and evolve, then it will still be a life well lived. 

“You’ll let flies in, Your Highness,” Janet teases passing back the doors. 

“Just put me on fly duty,” Calum laughs, but does move to let the door close behind him. There’s no embarrassment as Calum catches up behind you at being caught staring. “See anything else ready to be picked?”

“Oh, that’s still well beyond my wheelhouse. But I don’t think so.”

“You know more than me.” Calum means it sincerely. That you do know more about the garden than he does. But he thinks too that there’s a kind of life that you’ve lived that Calum had only once thought would be his. It’s a great honor to serve, take on his duty as expected. But there’s a little bit of life, a certain kind of living that he’d never really do. There’s a certain kind of wisdom he didn’t have. Not that Calum would ever want to romanticize your struggle and your suffering. But he knows that your experience gives you a perspective different than his--a perspective that Calum’s glad you’re willing to share with him. 

“I’m sure your mother could teach both of us a thing or two about gardening. How’s the shed coming along?”

The new one fades out of view, leaving the current restoration project bare in front of the two of you as you walk closer to it. “It’s going,” Calum returns. “There’s some shelving we’re working on now and the bench. A little behind schedule, but we anticipated that much from the start.”

“Looks good though. A fresh coat of paint?”

It’s the same blue as before, just not chipping anymore. “Yeah, a little birdie suggested it.”

“One smart bird.”

Calum helps you get set up--from getting the table stable to getting the dye into the more appropriate squeezable bottles, and once you’ve sworn up and down at least three times that you’ve got it from there, he ventures back over to the shed. The group doesn’t say much, but the smiles passed around them tell Calum everything he needs to do. He’ll never live this down. 

“It’s not a crime to be in love,” he laughs. 

“No one said it was. But to think, the same man just a year ago was swearing off love now following his partner like a puppy--it’s quite the sight,” Vance returns, looking up from his measuring where he works on the last few pieces of the built-in bench before they’ll start installing it. Getting power to the shed set them back longer than anticipated and when Vance’s gout flared, there were a few days that a lot of the light work went into place--like the painting and verifying the shelving design. This weekend is hopefully one of the last two big pushes to get the main structures in place. From there Calum will work on getting the table ordered, chairs, and the final furnishings. 

“I guess a lot changes in a year,” Calum answers. 

“I guess it does. Now c’mon lover boy, you’ve got a bench to install.”

It’s easy to get lost in the pop of the staple gun, in the measuring and re-measuring. Calum finds himself waiting for the click of each piece slotting in together; it’s a satisfying sound. It doesn’t take too long with Vance’s help to get the skeleton of the bench installed. Though it does take a little bit of finesse to get the paneling up over the skeleton. By the time the sun starts to dip just a hair down in the sky, but not quite touching the horizon, the bench is fully nearly assembled. The top isn’t bolted in yet and won’t be until the cushion is fashioned to the top, so the lid is resting on the structure for the time being. 

“Give it a test,” Vance suggests. “Make sure it’s up there sturdy.”

Calum’s weight seems to make no difference to the unit. There’s no creaks, no sagging. With a bit more courage, Calum swings his legs up and stretches out over the item. His feet hang off just a little, but that’s little to be concerned about. Given the space of the shed in total square feet, there was no way to make the bench as tall as him. But it’s solid beneath them. 

“It’s good,” Calum states, pushing up from the bench. 

“You’ll need these for tomorrow,” Vance calls out, pulling out a bag of metal hardware from his belt. Calum catches it with ease and notices the black hinges and screws assembled into the bag. Tomorrow Tamara comes by to help get the bench upholstered, though Calum suspects she’s always going to want to get Calum to finish buying the furnishings tomorrow too. Vance is taking the day to spend with his wife for their anniversary so it’s nice to be able to switch off to other aspects in the meantime. 

“Have fun tomorrow.” The guys laugh just a little at Calum’s statement. Even though Vance called Calum out about Calum’s own behavior, Vance was just as guilty. Every chirp of Vance’s phone made him pause to see if it was his wife. Albeit, Calum suspects there’s more going on at home over the last few weeks. Vance was talking more and more now about wanting to be a dad. It’s not his place to put out information that wasn’t ready, but Calum holds the suspicion close to his chest. 

Vance flips them off but his own laughter bubbles. “Your minds are absolutely in the fucking gutter, man. 

“Might be, but we already know exactly what’s going to happen tonight,” Parker pipes in from the opened door of the shed. 

“And you can’t even get your dick wet, so I don’t want to hear it,” Vance huffs. 

Parker was behind Calum in age by about a year and a half, but the two of them shared more in common than initially suspected. Parker’s highschool sweetheart hadn’t called it off before leaving for college. It left Parker behind, his family unable to afford the costs. Parker had taken courses with the community college before moving to vocational school to learn welding and HVAC. According to Parker, he’d gone for a trade so that he could have money saved up for a wedding when his love returned. Yet, Parker was left heartbroken instead. Parker’s partner returned for spring break of his sophomore year and called it off, admitting to emotional cheating. Not necessarily out of a desire to hurt Parker but out of loneliness, being on campus by himself and having a hard time in the first semester making friends because he was so homesick. It happened slowly--just as a friendship, someone to confide in about loneliness, hangout on the weekends and show him around the strange new town. But it was becoming clearer more and more as time went that there was someone else to Parker.  Calum, over a few beers, had gotten the story in the initial days of renovations. 

That was five years ago, but Parker hadn’t found anyone else. Not for the lack of trying. Parker always seemed to have a string of dates, stories to tell about who he was seeing, but they rotated out nearly weekly. Each weekend meeting for the renovations started with a hot gossip hour--Parker’s latest string of dates, Vance’s home life about his wife and two dogs, Tamara occasionally joining with stories of her dating life, Logan chimed in with updates about his new partner too, and Calum always carried up the rear in their circle. But Parker is the one that Calum worries about sometimes--the way he laughs at the jokes the other cracks but it sounds a little bit like it’s being forced. 

“Hey, at least he’s trying,” Calum interjects between the laughter. 

Parker is a decent guy, but possibly still too scorned from his first love to really let anyone in. Calum can’t say he doesn't get it. It’s a shitty box to be in, to know that you have so much love to give but someone hurting you so deeply that it makes you want to hide that love away. Whether or not the pain was caused intentionally never really undoes the fact that it cuts so deeply. 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve got the stories to back up his efforts,” Vance agrees easily. “Soon, he’ll settle down with a good guy. I know he will. But I think we’re at a good stopping point for today, yeah?”

The lot agrees. Calum takes survey of the progress--Logan and Paul have been working on the shelves while Calum and Vance focused on the bench.  Only the foundations and arches of the unit exist based on the work done today. But it did take a little trial and error to get the arches to match. It’s clear though the shape it’s taking on. Once all the shelves are in and attached, they’ll paint it. Thankfully the paneling for the bench is a dark brown and matches the color for the rest of the furniture so there’s little to do in terms of staining the unit. 

The wood and tools are all moved inside. Though Calum’s positive there’s no rain in the forecast, he knows that could change on a dime. Rather than trying to replace expensive equipment, he houses it inside of the shed now that the roof is fixed. The guys give their goodbyes as Calum turns the key on the bolt to lock the doors. Everyone on the project has a key should any one of them get here before the others, but Calum’s most often the first one there and the last one to leave. 

“Thanks for that,” Parker states. Calum looks to his left, a little startled that Parker was still around. “For sticking up to Vance like that. I know he doesn’t mean any harm with those jokes, but they do get a little old. So I just wanted to say I appreciate you saying something.”

“Of course, man. Anytime,” Calum returns. “I get it. You know that.”

Parker’s nod is soft. “Yeah, I do. But still, thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow for a couple hours at least. I don’t think we’ve got much left to do now.”

“No, it is shaping up nicely. I still appreciate your help with all this. Even though this is pretty far from HVAC.”

Parker laughs. “Yeah, yeah, it’s not exactly the ports on an AC unit, but I’ve got a few more skills than that too. Have a great night.”

“You too,” Calum calls out as Parker heads back for the doors. 

Calum’s not sure why he expects that you’re still working on the socks. But all he finds instead is the empty spot that you once had a station up at. There’s not even indentations in the grace to show where you stood. 

“Done already?”

Calum spins to see you walking out from where the new shed stands. “I was wondering where you’d gone,” he laughs, though his heart is still thundering in his chest. 

“Joy asked for a spare hand.” Looking down, Calum can see the patch on your knees from the grass. Maybe not quite a full on stain, but it’s clear where you’d been working with the dirt too with the dark brown spots. 

“You want to borrow something of mine and I do need to do laundry once we get back from drinks, I can throw everything in at once.” 

“A shirt at the least. I think I have some spare pants in your room and I do have an overnight bag too.”

Calum nods, reaching out for your hand. He tries to remember if you do. He knows you took most of the stuff out a couple weeks ago, but he can’t recall if you came back with anything more. You could’ve and the time’s just slipped from his memory. But the trek back instead passes in an exchange about the work done--there’s a pause at the laundry on the first floor for Calum to take in the sight of the socks still contained away to allow the dye to set and settle into the fibers. 

“They look good,” Calum compliments with a squeeze to your hand. 

“Thanks, tomorrow’s the true test to see how the colors did.”

“I’m sure they’ll turn out well.” The two of you continue on up to Calum’s room. The squeak of your shoes as you two climb the stairs. Though the elevators are a faster way up, you head for the stairs and Calum follows behind. But it is a relief to hit the residential hallways. The work from earlier and Calum’s earlier work out are catching up with the burn of the stairs. The echo of slightly labored breathing softens as the two of you push closer and closer to his room. 

“We’re never taking those stairs again,” Calum huffs, pushing his door open for you to enter through. 

“You might not, but I think I’ll take them again.” Your own retort is stuttered as your breath comes and goes with big inhales and exhales. 

“Yeah, right,” Calum laughs, shuffling past you as you paused at his drawers. On your side of the bed, resting on the floor, is the bag you mentioned earlier. It’s a silent shuffle in the room, the opening and closing of drawers, the zipper being opened to your bag. 

“Do you want to shower first?” Calum offers. He’s still contemplating what to wear but given your ease to pull his yellow button down out from the closet and your fresh jeans from the drawer, you seem to have him beat. Though time’s not really an issue, Calum isn’t fond of being late when not necessary. 

“Do you want help and we can shower together? You know, saving water and what not?” you laugh, slipping behind him. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re suggesting something there,” he teases. 

“Do you trust me?” It’s a soft question. 

“I do.” It’s an easy answer to an easy question. 

“Then trust it’s nothing more than that. I just wanted to be close to you is all.”

That--that’s the kind of confession that makes Calum’s toes curl. “Then please help before we are half an hour late because I can’t decide.”

You press a kiss to his shoulder, though Calum’s sure he’s covered in sawdust and sweat--the conway studio’s T-shirt he’d gotten from Michael as a gift when Michael worked there for an artist on their debut album is a little unforgiving in some areas with the sweatstains that show up. “Of course. Where’s your casual meter? How do you normally meet the boys?”

“It never matters that much, if I’m honest,” Calum returns. Your arms wind around his midsection and Calum’s hold on the hangers slackens so that he can trace over the skin of your forearm with the tips of his fingers. 

Your hum vibrates your shoulder but you tap his stomach before pulling away. Calum watches you shuffle back over to his drawers. You browse through the drawer only for a moment or two before unearthing a t-shirt, white with red trim at the neck and sleeves. His taste tester t-shirt. “We can start here,” you offer. 

It doesn’t sound like a full on question, but there’s just enough lilt in the tone that Calum reassures you with a nod. He pushes his shirts off to one side of the closet before focusing on his bottoms. There’s some comfort when you’re next to him, watching over his shoulder at the selections. It’s less about the clothes and more about the fact that Calum wants you to know he needs you, cares about having you there for even the little things. Passing on his black jeans, Calum settles for some black trousers. You pick a black belt with a big silver Western buckle to top it off. 

“Looks good to me,” Calum affirms. 

“Well, let’s giddy up cowboy.” It falls with a teasing laugh, but Calum wouldn’t take it any other way. 

The water is warm, hitting nearly like mist over Calum’s shoulder until he gets just enough water to get the pressure right. Once the shower roars, he lets you into the stream first. You only take a moment to get your face wet before you’re moving for his shampoo. 

“Is there something in my hair?” he asks. There wasn’t any checking in the mirror before getting into the shower, which might’ve been his first mistake. 

“Yeah, there’s some dust.”

“I can do it,” Calum comments, reaching out for the bottle, but you tuck it behind your back. This shower though it comfortably fits the two of you is not the best place to attempt to out muscle someone. Calum soaks his hair and turns as you direct him. The friction of your fingertips over Calum’s scalp is firm but not overbearing. It’s enough to make his eyes flutter close as you work. The kind of tenderness and care that makes his innards melt. So lost in the sensation, Calum nearly misses your directive for him to rinse the shampoo. Your work is swift to comb the conditioner through. 

Calum goes to rinse it when you’re done, but you catch him by his elbow. “Not so fast,” you laugh. “Let it sit for another minute. Scooch to where I am.”

“I’ve never let my conditioner sit this long before,” Calum returns, but lets you stand in front of the stream from the shower head. 

“And you’ll thank me later when you see the difference another minute or two makes,” you laugh. Calum can only watch. The water dripping down over your skin traces every line, every divot. Calum is no artist but he’d carve you into stone like the water is doing--highlight tautness of your muscles as you flex them, carrying over the curve of your butt. You are art work in a way that Calum thinks he understands finally the need to capture it in something so permanent. He knows he’d like to take his time to get every detail right. His memory is fallible. It’ll fail him eventually, but if he carved you into marble he’d always be able to remember the scars, the mole; every cell would hold to eternity in the rock. 

“You can rinse now,” you direct after letting the water wash away the soap from your legs after your final scrub down of them. 

Calum rubs his styling pomade over his palms--post shower and dressed, the only final touches are his hair. The extra time with the conditioner did soften it a little bit more than he’s used to this being. But that was information he was willing to give out easily. Though as he slips his fingers through his hair to hold the work of the blow dryer down, he is impressed. You watch from behind, fastening the button on your jeans into place. 

“You don’t have to admit it, but your face says it all,” you laugh. 

“Shut up. You don’t get to be right all the time,” Calum huffs. He wants to keep it together, be able to deliver the sarcasm with a straight face, but he ultimately cracks. His smile lifts his cheeks and he giggles when you shake your head at the antic. 

“I’m only right some of the time,” you answer. 

“Some, all, it’s all the same difference. Is Teagan okay by the way? You mentioned yesterday being worried about her.”

“I hope so. I really hope so. I don’t--I don’t want to assume anything right now, so it might be just a one off thing.”

“Well, I’m here for you and her. When you’re ready to say more just let me know. If there’s anything I can do in the meantime, just let me know too.” It’s clear the way you waltz around what happened that you don’t really want to say too much about it. Though it does make a small batch of worry stir in Calum’s stomach, he’s not going to force you to discuss something you’re not ready to discuss. He hopes it’s nothing. Hopes that maybe this is extra fret for ultimately nothing. But in the event that’s it’s more, he knows he’ll do whatever he needs to help you out. 

“Thanks, love. I appreciate it.” Your arms slip under his and you smooth a small fly away. “Ready?”

“Born ready.”

Calum’s quick to direct you to the elevators on the way down to his car. He can still feel the slight quake in his thighs from the effort earlier when he squats down to get into the driver seat. It doesn’t help that just a couple days ago it was leg day in his gym routine. Yet, each time he forgets how long the recovery is from the torturous routine. The radio turns out immediately from the last time he was in the car, but Calum lowers the volume just a smidge. 

“Is there anything I should know before meeting your friends? Any subjects off limits?” you ask after a few minutes of being on the road. 

“You already know that Michael’s a producer. Luke’s got his hand in music, solo work. Ashton’s got jobs on jobs. Between his work to start a wellness app, he’s got a candle company. He’s working with Luke I think on some instrumental music. But they’re a cool group. Micheal’s married. Luke’s engaged. Ashton’s newly single so that might be a little bit of a tough spot, but if I’m honest, Violet wasn’t good for him so none of the guys are that torn up about her. We’re there for Ashton of course.”

“So a politician, a producer, a singer, and a hippie walk into a bar,” you start and Calum snorts. “And one of them says to the bartender, I need a drink that’ll help me through the day I’ve just had, with no major side effects and if I saw purple elephant at the end of the cup I wouldn’t be that made either, can you guess who ordered?”

“It was a group order,” Calum returns. 

“Correct.”

“And I wouldn’t say Ashton’s a hippie. He’d gotten into school on some scholarships, dude’s practically a whizz, but definitely tends to lean more spiritual and philosophical than not.”

“I’ll give him a fair shake, promise. It’s just--wellness app? Do you know the focus of it?”

Calum hadn’t gotten all the specifics. Ashton mentioned it during one of their last hangouts and by the time that it really sunk in what Ashton was doing, the conversation gravitated to something else--there were jokes, teases, and before Calum could digest in his slight alcoholic haze the idea, the topic was long lost. 

“We’ll find out more today I’m pretty sure though. He can go a mile a minute if you let him.”

“I’m excited to meet them then. See what kind of mischief you get up to.” Though Calum wouldn’t call it mischief himself, he’s excited too. 

____________________________________

The thing about first impressions is that you’ll never know if you’re landing them well. There are no do overs. Only ever grace and more grace. But as you follow the half step behind Calum into the bar, you’re hoping you won’t need too much grace. It’s not packed for a Saturday, not yet anyway. Though you think that it might be too early to make such judgment at only 8 in the evening. The night is still young and you’re sure that as the hours crept by more and more people would crop up. 

“Calum!” 

You hear the voice before you spot two men waving with grins on their face. They sit next to each other at the table for what appears to be situated for six. One has blond hair that faintly curls at the top. The other man has a shaggier cut with pink dyed ends underneath a beanie. Calum laughs as he greets them, hugs and pats on the back. They reach out for you too, unphased by your addition to the outing. The man with the beanie introduces himself as Michael and faintly curly haired blond introduces himself as Luke. 

Calum doubles down on such introductions, clearly missing the quiet exchanges but no one corrects him before you two settle down opposite of Michael and Luke. Calum pulls out your chair and you cut your eyes up with a soft smile. “Don’t,” Calum commands with a laugh. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Are you telling me he’s not pulling your chair out all the time? I raised you better than this,” Michael jokes. 

“I am a gentleman,” Calum counters, “at all times.”

Luke joins in on the ragging with a tsk falling into the air from the suck of his teeth. “Then tell me why I don’t believe you, son. Just doesn’t seem right over here.”

The banter falls between them easily. You know it’s the years, all the time they spent together. And just as quickly as it starts, it stops even though Calum squawks to your left that he is the picture perfect partner to you. “Yeah, but we’ve learned not to trust you.” Michael turns to you at the end of the sentence. “So, let’s hear your thoughts. On a scale of zero to ten where is Calum falling on being a gentleman? Pretend he isn’t here. Which I know is hard since he’s so loud right now,” Michael cuts in over Calum’s muttered huffs. 

You ponder the question, even as Calum slips his hand into yours, sliding a menu left behind closer to you, though one’s right in front of you. “Eight and a half. But he’s closing in on the 9.”

“I’d ask when I haven’t been a gentleman, but I fear the answer,” he snorts. 

“I have to give you room to grow. Don’t want you to get too comfortable,” you tease. 

Michael’s laughter echoes, even in the thump of the bass overhead. You hear his crackle. “I like you already. I’ve heard through the grapevine though that you’re starting a new job Monday?”

“Would the grapevine be about 6’2?” you ask. “But yes, Monday is my first day.”

“Are you nervous at all?” Luke questions. 

You shrug, playing at the corner of the menu Calum slid your way. “A job’s a job. The people seem nice so far, so not terribly nervous. I’m a bit more used to first days at new jobs though,” you answer. From what you gathered, there’s a strong likelihood that they don’t share a background like yours. You could be wrong of course. But given what they’re doing now, you’re not sure what kind of background they could have. 

“Sorry I’m late,” a scruffier voice calls out. “Sup, Cal.” They laugh and you look up over your shoulder to a man with almost shoulder length hair. There’s a slight wave to the warm brown strands. He smiles at you big and bright, the action making the sunglasses bounce just a little on his face. “I’m Ashton,” he greets, holding out a hand. 

You shake it in return, offering your name. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same, same. Again, apologies for my tardiness. Not the kind of first impression I want to give.”

But grace, but grace, but grace. “Consider the tardiness excused. Better late than never.”

His laughter is soft as he nods. “Right, right on.”

“I was about another ten minutes from putting together a search party,” Michael relays to Ashton as he settles to your right. 

“Nah, you can put the dogs back and let them free in the backyard. Though I don’t think South would dare get his paws dirty.”

“You have dogs?” you ask Michael. 

He nods. “Two. South and Moose.” Before you can even ask to see pictures, he’s pulling out his phone. There on the table, the screen lights up your face as you swipe through the gallery Michael pulled up. “South has the golden coat--very much a diva.”

“Last time I petsit him, he acted like he didn’t even know me,” Calum huffs. “Until it was time for him to go and then he didn’t want to go.”

“A diva,” Michael concludes. 

“They’re precious,” you coo, handing the device back after two more swipes. 

“Do you have any pets by chance?” Luke tacks on. 

“No, but I’m open to the idea. Just wasn’t feasible for a while.” There’s a nod of understanding but it leads down a tangent about Luke and his dog Petunia. It’s nice for the conversation to flow naturally. By the time you order your first round of drinks and some appetizers for the table, you learn about Luke’s older brothers, Ashton’s younger siblings, the way Michael, Luke, and Calum found each other in middle school thanks to band class. Luke’s mother used to teach Ashton as he is older than the rest of the group, resting right in the same age bracket as you. But even still, he’d been reached out by Michael in a string of bizarre fated events to guest drum for a gig they’d landed. 

Though the band didn’t live long, given Calum’s trip off to football camp in Brazil and an unfortunately timed injury to Ashton’s wrist, they still kept close. It floors you for a minute to learn that in addition to school Ashton had taken a job at a KFC. He’d been doing it to bring in extra cash for his family and thankfully through the gigs, he’d managed to worm his way into the music world. He didn’t let the job go fully until he was met with a do or die moment. To say Ashton did is an understatement, but there’s something still modest in the well worn leather jacket and faded t-shirt. You’re sure if you saw the brand’s name etched into either one of the items, it still might give you a heart attack, but something in the ensemble lets you know that Ashton is not overly frivolous. The items stay in rotation until they’re unable to be saved. 

“I’ll be right back,” Calum announces, pushing in a little closer to you. His lips press gingerly to your cheek before he stands. “No one scare them off while I’m gone.”

“Oh, we’ll behave,” Ashton giggled from behind his bottle. For a man who was newly single according to Calum, he was keeping his wits about him. He asked you questions, cracked jokes with Michael and Luke. Now without the sunglasses on his face, you spot the bright eyes to match his bright smile. 

“Calum tells us you paint,” Luke offers up before sucking the ranch off his fingers. “Working on anything new?”

“Oh, I’m almost finished with this painting for him. So, nothing new really. I should’ve been done ages ago, but something about it doesn’t feel finished just yet. We’ll see if it ever jumps out at me.”

“I’m sure it will soon,” Luke smiles.

“Would you ever consider doing art full time?” Michael questions. He goes in for another sip of his cocktail. 

“I much prefer it as a hobby, if I’m honest. I think I could see myself maybe taking it more seriously in the future, but I don’t know if it’s my next career move or not.”

“So you enjoy the restaurant life?” Ashton asks. “Or is that just where you prefer to stay in as your career?”

“A little bit of both, I guess,” you contemplate. “The industry is deadly  and I don’t want to be a linecook forever, but I think for right now, I prefer to say that this industry is where I make my money. When I leave work, I leave it--none of it comes back home with me.”

“Except for Calum,” Luke snorts. 

“I mean it’s not smart to shit where you eat, but so far it’s yet to blow up in my face so I’m hoping it never does. And technically, Calum’s not been to my place yet, so work has never actually come home with me. Can’t say the same for him.”

The boys cackle at your correction. “Fair,” Luke snickers. “I’m just happy to see him doing well again after everything that happened.”

The air feels sucked out of the room. Ashton and Michael’s smiles fall like bricks from their faces, clattering to the table beneath you all. You’re not aware of anything before, but now that it’s out there it sits on the table within arm’s reach like the wings and fries in front of you. Yet you don’t know if you should touch it. Don’t know if you should follow up on Luke’s line of conversation or pocket it for later. 

You reach for a fry instead, dipping into your side bowl of ketchup. “You sure know how to drop a bomb Luke. How’s the music going though?” 

You’re curious. What had happened to Calum before? As far as you were aware, he’d not been dating anymore, not seriously before you. Well, not that you knew of while you worked in the kitchen of course. The almost two years had been pretty quiet on the gossip train about Calum until you two got involved. But there’s plenty of time prior to that that you couldn’t account for. 

“So, you-you don’t know?” Michael questions. It cuts right under the question you asked to Luke. 

“No, no I don’t know.” It’s a simple sentence. Because you don’t. And you’re too tired to panic about what you don’t know. The worry of Teagan and Charlie outweighs whatever information you haven’t been given from Calum. 

“It’s a good thing,” Michael clarifies. “There’s been a really good change in Calum because of you. It’s not my place to tell you. But I do want you to know it isn’t bad.”

Luke sets his bottle down and pushes it with the tips of his fingers a couple more inches from his reach. “I’m sorry. Definitely should’ve been more careful about that kind of stuff. But it is good, like Michael says.”

Ashton scoots the bottle Luke pushed away closer to him. “Yeah, buddy, let me just hold onto that for you.”

It’s not fun to know that Calum’s withheld information. But you know that people will always play certain things close to their chest. You kept Teagan and Charlie close for so long. You kept your family drama close. Though it is a jolt, a shock to your system, you think it’s only fair that Calum has the things he wants to keep close too. Everyone has their demons. Perhaps the signs were always there. But there is always a reason. 

“So, everyone here is in music somehow. Who wants to go first about their current project? And please one at a time, or I will have to break out the talking stick, or rather talking bottle,” you tease. 

“Talking bottle?” Michael laughs. 

“Well, it’s a talking stick originally. Whomever has the stick speaks. Everyone else stays quiet and then it goes around person to person and back and forth between people if need be.” Your empty bottle of beer stares back at you and you lift a few inches off from the table. “But when in a bar, you improvise.”

“Are you saying we talk over each other?” Luke laughs with a bit of a squeal to his voice at the same time Ashton states, “I don’t really think we need to go that far.”

“If the boot fits,” you laugh. The fries have gone cold due to the time you’ve all spent talking, less focused on the actual drinks and food. But you reach for another couple as the boys bicker for a moment. They’re more like brothers than they are friends, as you watch them, reminding you of the way Teagan and Charlie interact with each other. It’s a playful banter, a quip always at the ready with them. 

“You okay?” 

You turn to the question, though you don’t need to. Calum’s scooted in a little closer to you. You can feel his warmth seeping into your back through his shirt on your body. “I’m okay. I like your friends.”

Calum’s lips are soft on your cheek. “Good. I think they like you too.”

“Try love them,” Michael corrects and no sooner than he makes the statement, he’s sucked back into Ashton’s claims that a band, you didn’t catch the name, is overrated. Ashton quickly reasserts he doesn’t mean it negatively. 

“They’re just too derivative of a derivative and ultimately aren’t producing anything cutting,” Ashton further explains. 

“We’re not talking about fucking algebra,” Michael quips. “We’re so far from the origins of the soundscapes for most genres. It’s all going to sound derivative, because it is. But it’s not about new, or shiny. It’s about saying it in a way that no one else has.”

It’s like Luke’s early faux pas didn’t even happen. Ashton and Michael verbally circle each other all the while Luke watches like one does a tennis match--Ashton then Michael. Michael then Ashton--back and forth for all it to end in a deuce. You wonder if either will ever get the two points to win. But the waitress comes by again and the collection take stalk of the table. There’s a few bottles scattered and you help her collect those, and order up on more drinks--some water, some sodas, a few more cocktails and alcoholic drinks thrown into the mix. 

“Would you ever take commissions? Even on the side?” Luke ponders. “Like one off projects and such?”

“Possibily,” you answer with a shrug. The majority of your work went to to a couple local places--the local children’s hospital enjoyed having your work on display as the children loved it. You’d gifted Teagan and Charlie small paintings after they begged for them. “Again, don’t want to make it my career, but you know if someone wanted to pay me to do something for them, I’d entertain the thought.”

“An original painting could do wonders at the local charity circuit,” Ashton pipes in. The comment isn’t for you and you peer over your shoulder to Calum. 

He stares wide eyed over his first beer that he’s yet to finish. “It could. But I-if it’s not your thing, you don’t have to do it.”

“Do what?” you question. There’s been no conversation about anything for charity in your presence. 

“In December, I have-I have a charity banquet to attend. There’s stuff that people auction off to raise money for the connected charities. I mentioned the the guys that it’d be nice to auction off something more meaningful. But I wasn’t sure if it was even appropriate to ask you about it. You’d only have two months and some change to finish it. There’s a website that goes up in the last week of November, a week and a half before the event so people can see the options.”

“Which charities?” You’d heard of the event, watched clips of the auction with more curiosity than true interest to watch rich people flaunt their philanthropy. 

“I think this year is focusing on women’s rights, especially the efforts on pushing law enforcement to investigate those missing. The deadline to submit proposals is in two weeks though. Which is like, not great planning on my end I know.”

“What do you normally auction off?”

“Volunteer time.” 

“How comfortable are you with volunteer time?” You’d at least think about it. It might be more than you could handle, but you’d chew the thought over. Especially since you did still have questions about whatever Luke alluded to earlier. 

“I like it; I don’t mind volunteering. It’s a nice change of pace honestly. Just--I think others should see your talents too.”

The blush that creeps up on his cheeks nearly melts you. Though your gut initially wants to dismiss it as the flush of alcohol, you know the truth. When Calum casts his gaze down and picks at his nails, you know that he’s a little shy in the confession. You take his hand gingerly on top of the table and the action is enough for him to look up. “I’ll think about it and get back to you.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” 

At the very end when the check hits the table, all four boys reach it, cards and cash in hand. Ashton ends up footing the bill but the rest of the boys hand over cash or tap at their screens to ensure Ashton’s paid for their portions. “How much do I owe Calum?” you ask, noticing the bill’s being split four ways instead of five. 

He shakes his head. “I got you, baby. Don’t worry.”

“You sure?”

“More than sure.”

“I’ll pay next time.” It’s not fully a suggestion, but you still offer it softly. 

Calum takes a squeeze at your hand after slipping his phone into his pocket. “Okay.” It’s easy, simple. He smiles at you and the group pushes up from the table. Michael, Luke, and Ashton all give you hugs as you leave. 

“You’ll come next time too, right?” Luke asks. “We bring all the partners. Be a nice time, I think.”

“I’d be happy to see you all again,” you agree. The agreement leads to another round of hugs, the group spilling out into the outdoors. The night is darker, a little cooler than you first left it. Calum’s hold around your hand tightens for only a moment and you squeeze in return at the action. 

You know there’s always a better time, a better place. The parking lot of this bar definitely does not feel like the right time. But you’re not sure when it will be. “Luke mentioned something when you stepped away to the restroom. And-and I’d like to ask you about it.”

The tension thickens. Calum’s shoulders become rigid under the t-shirt. “It doesn’t sound like a good thing.”

Not a shut down, only a phish for more information. One you’re happy to supply. “It is good in a way. The group seems to be really happy that you’re in a good relationship. But the way Luke said it, it made me think there’s definitely something, or someone before.”

“I don’t want anyone else if that’s what you’re wondering. That doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I’m-I’m not worried about that. I’m not really worried about anything. I just--whenever you’re ready to talk about what happened before, I’d like to know.”

You think that’s going to be the end of the conversation. You wouldn’t fault it at all. Perhaps, you’d been all too blinded by Calum choosing you that you hadn’t fully wondered what was going on in his past. You didn’t think the stories of Calum’s childhood could be a smoke screen. They were real. They were all a part of what made Calum Calum. But Luke’s comment cracks open the possibility that you’d been blinded. As hungry as you were to have Calum to yourself the reality of it all is that he’s not to be consumed. 

“I just--there’s stuff I haven’t asked you, you know? I want the bad stuff too. So I know how to be there for you. So I know how to love you.” The words fall, buzzing on your lips and tongue. You’d want to pick them up after they’ve fallen, but you know it's wasted energy. They’re out there now. You can’t do anything but watch Calum’s back. The tension has dropped. He doesn’t look ready to run. 

“Part of it feels ridiculous,” Calum admits. He tugs your hand, closing the gap between the two of you. “There’s so much worse that’s happening to other people. And my hurt just starts to feel small.”

“It’s not a competition of pain. Your hurt isn’t smaller than someone else’s.” You’re slotted against Calum’s chest. There’s no brim of a hat, no glasses to hide him away. There’s just the fear--plain as day on his face. “If I ever made this feel like a competition, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, you didn’t make it feel like a competition. I think,” he pauses with a sigh. “It’s totally different. I feel like I want to love again. With you. It wasn’t always like that.”

Your fingertips ache. You want to cup his jaw, ask him to explain to you from the top what it was like before. You don’t, thinking a camera lens could be pointed at you right now. Perhaps there would always be and now it’s less about them and more about Calum. With caution, you trace at his jaw, trailing up until your palm rests against his full cheek. “I’m glad it’s better now.”

Calum’s eyes shut, lashes nearly brushing the top of his cheeks. Like babies root to touch, Calum turns into your hold, lips pressing to your palm with a kiss. “But it was bad. And you should know.”

“Only when you’re ready,” you whisper. You’re glad there’s no breeze, lest your words have gotten swept up in it. 

“Can I tell you on the drive?”

Your answer is only a nod. You want to do more, kiss him. Let him know you’re there. You think if it could be done, you’d crawl into his chest, whisper to his heart that you don’t have plans on breaking it. But this is not a fairytale. You know strife always comes. The only solace one can have is that they don’t cause too much of it. 

It’s quiet at first, as Calum pulls out of the parking lot and onto the streets. You watch the signs for the highway, watch Calum take the entrance ramp, spending up so that he can merge. You’re not headed back to the palace. You’re actually going in the opposite direction. You don’t know what could be out there, what Calum has up his sleeve. But you don’t question it. 

“Her name is Nora,” Calum starts. 

You know of a Nora-- a princess fit to inherit within the next three years. Her particular people believed in a matriarch. Though Queens took husbands, they almost always never turned over power. “Like Princess Nora or the girl next door to the palace Nora?” 

“The princess,” Calum answers, but he does grin for a brief moment taking a look at your face. 

There are no girls next door--you know that. But somehow the truth still unsettles. You don’t remember murmurs about Nora from the kitchen. The kitchen staff passed time in gossip. You knew more about the royal family you worked for and others merely because the gossip seemingly made the seconds fly by. You’d never cared for it before and didn’t care for it when you worked there. You let the others do the talking. 

“We dated back in college for two and half years.”

That’s well before you would’ve even been considering working for the palace. No wonder it hadn’t come up around you. “I’m guessing it wasn’t amicable.”

Calum shrugs. “I don’t know if amicable is remotely close. But it didn’t end badly. Just rough. When we broke up, I spent a year wallowing. I wanted to pretend I was okay, but she was my first love in a way. I’d dated before in high school, but they’d only lasted a few months. Not nearly enough time to mean anything in comparison.”

“I think your training in Brazil ruined you,” you tease, watching through the front windshield as the dark asphalt and street lights whizz around you. 

“I know, I know. Not a competition. But the crushes in high school were just that--crushes. We dated, held hands, kissed, but Nora was my first serious relationship. I’d been looking at rings.”

Rings-- the word bites at your veins. Calum doesn’t say it with ease, his hands clutching the wheel so hard his knuckles are paling. They’d been deep into the relationship--enough so that marriage was potentially on the line. Your fingers twitch to soothe his, but you restrain yourself given his work at the wheel. 

“Sounds like you never made the purchase?” you probe, hoping it’s as gentle as it can be. You are curious. You want Calum to know that you are listening too. 

“Never had the opportunity, thankfully so, I guess. Nora graduated in December and I graduated in May. She’d taken some summer classes to help get ahead and done some work in high school to get a head start. Nora asked me at the start of winter break, right after she graduated, if I intended on marrying her. I was honest. I told her that I would like to, after we both had a couple years out from school. There would be a lot of logistics involved.”

“Politcs,” you point out. “She’s a part of a matriarch. You’re in a patriarchal system.” The quip about you being lower class, how much easier it is to date someone with no political ties, burns at your tongue. But you know Calum. It won’t go well at all; he’ll beg you to stop the self deprecation, tell you that he loves you for you. It’s all things you know.  

Calum winces at the phrasing. “I mean that’s what it was. But at the time, I didn’t see it like that. I was idealistic about it, toxically optimistically probably. Not that I’m not the same now, but I hope not nearly as much.”

He risks a glance, like he poised a question. You only shrug at first, but then add on, "Optimistic, yes. Toxic, no. You know when you admit you’re wrong.”

“Improvement then, I guess, from then. Nora didn’t want to turn over her right to rule. I didn’t want to turn over my right to rule. And even if I told her she wouldn’t be, she didn’t see it that way. I thought she was being nitpicky. No one would care at the end of the day because her politics would still stand. I wouldn’t interfere with her work. But ultimately, it was--it was crumbling. The second I answered that we could rule separately but still be together and she looked at me with confusion--it was over. Rock meet glass house.”

You can imagine it--the strong brow on Nora furrowing as Calum spoke. The way she might’ve shaken her head and spoke firmly, black hair spilling over her shoulder as it always did in her press speeches. Nora is a force--fierce with seemingly little fear about the perception from others. Where Calum played a careful game, Nora played the explosive kind. She’s smart, by no means did her passion outshine her intelligence, but she was always speaking out first about things. She was one of the people rallying others. It’s easy to see how with Nora it became all or nothing 

Calum continues on, signaling as he speaks to take an exit. “I tried to date, but my heart wasn’t in it. I didn’t want to be dating if I’m honest. I’d told myself that I’d just be single. I’d take on the throne and settle into that- give it five, seven, ten years before I married. It really wouldn’t matter. Luke was trying to set me up on dates. But they never went anywhere. Didn’t even want sex if I’m honest. I refused it a couple times and both girls and guys  thought I was crazy. Sometimes, I don’t know. Sometimes I did it anyway because it was a distraction. Nothing really numbed the pain though. There was just this constant ache I had. I’d envisioned myself a dad--playing sports in the back garden, or in ballet recitals for daddy and daughter dance classes. I’d always pictured myself on the throne, working in the Cabinet. Those weren’t things I’d want to give up, even for Nora. That’s what made it scary. She had her way of thinking. Her people rule the way they do and that’s fine. But I always knew I was going to be King. I knew even if I didn’t always want it that I wouldn’t give up on the responsibility.”

You can hear what’s between those words, what still causes Calum pain.  “But it meant giving up Nora, right? If you were always going to take your throne and she was always going to take hers, then the only thing left is what happened.” It doesn’t shock you to hear how much Calum dreamed of his future. You don’t worry that he still wants it—those things could all be worked out eventually. But you know that Calum’s so caught up on making things work for the best possible outcome that he doesn’t always remember that life is not always about the best. 

“Yeah,” Calum sighs. It’s heavy and comes deep from within his chest, “but I wanted it all. You know. I wanted her and I wanted to follow through on my duties. I wanted it fucking all and at the time, it felt like I’d lost everything. We knew after that conversation it wouldn’t be compatible. Nora and I’s relationship required sacrifices that we were too young and too driven to make. Nora deserves where she’s at. She deserves to rule. And I don’t think she could’ve been happy any other way.”

“Do you think you could’ve been happy any other way? As little as I actually know about her--and I reserve the right to absolutely be wrong about it--it was your relationship too.”

The roads are narrowing. You watch now as the dark asphalt lightens, there’s a few more bumps along the way. You round the bend and the ocean opens up in front of you. You know the beach is closed but it doesn’t seem to stop Calum as he pulls to a stop in the parking lot. The lights stuff off from the car, leaving you surrounded in the thick mass of the night. The sun’s long gone. The lights are off in the truck too. The engine knocks just a little as the vehicle settles. 

“I might’ve been, but if I’m honest I didn’t spend 4 years in college and 4 years under my father’s immediate wings for nothing. I’d been putting time into my own aspirations and I don’t think long term that relationship would’ve been good for me,” Calum answers as he turns to you. The seatbelt clanks against the plastic interior. “I hope the beach is okay.”

“The beach is fine.” You undo your seatbelt as well, listening to the way it winds back up into place. “Making the right choices sometimes isn’t easy,” you admit. Like the right choice to change jobs. Like the right choice to stay for Teagan and Charlie. Like the right choice for Calum to let Nora go. 

“Yeah,” Calum agrees. “Sometimes it’s not.”

You find Calum’s hand, threading your fingers through his. “I hope your choices next time are easier.”

“They’ve gotten easier,” he confesses. “Talking to you was easy. You always treated me like a person.”

“Because you are one.” It’s a simple answer, but you know it to be true. Calum’s just a person. Though he had politics about him, though he was in a world foreign to you at all times and even overwhelming, he was just a person like you. “You’re human like the rest of us.”

“Doesn’t always feel like it.” 

You don’t want to imagine the pressure on Calum’s shoulder, a pressure so unsustainable. But the wheel must spin. The cruelty of it all is that someone has to win and someone has to lose. 

“What’s the relationship like now with Nora? Is it still tense?”

“Not as much as before. It’s professional at this point, as much as it can be.” 

“Two and a half years is a long time though. Makes sense.”

“We tried to make it work. Six months we kept trying to keep pushing and find a solution. But we only sort of grew to resent each other. We were always fighting. Nora called it off, ultimately. She was the one that saw we were crashing and burning. I didn’t want to admit it even if I noticed it too. So to say it was amicable, not quite. It was mutual though.”

You know Calum even in the dark. You know the squint of his eyes, the way his cheeks meld to your hold. You know the catch of his breath when you brush your fingers over the veins on his neck. His veins thump under your touch and then you drag the touch up to his jaw. “Thank you for telling me. That wasn’t easy for you, I can see.”

“I don’t particularly like thinking about it,” Calum admits. His throat seizes. You feel the small quake under your fingers. “I didn’t talk about it. Not even with the boys for a long time.”

“If there’s anyone that understands, it’s me. There’s nasty things in life sometimes. Stuff that we don’t want to talk about, don’t want to deal with. Thing’s we’d prefer to swallow down and never pull back up. I get it,” you assure. 

Something warm hits your fingers. It’s only a few drops--tears you assume. Pushing up, you find his lips, a kiss soft and sweet. Calum’s quick to grapple you, encase you in his arms and tug. You’re pulled as far as you can over the console. And you let yourself go. It’s awkward, your back hurts just a little. But Calum exhales into your mouth, shaky as he breathes. 

“Scoot the seat all back. You’re going to break my back,” you tease after the hug lasts longer than you anticipate.

“That’s now how I imagined doing it,” Calum teases, his breath ghosting over your lips. He reaches down to pull the lever and push the driver seat back. 

Settled onto Calum’s lap, you pull him back into your chest. His fingers are buried--under the shirt--pressing into your flesh like his digits can burrow deeper into your, pass the muscle and fat, into the hollows of blood and organs. You don’t stop him, just press a kiss to his forehead as you cradle his head. His body tremors and there’s the occasional sniffle. The tears are hot on your thumbs, but you wipe them away, slow and steady. 

“It’s okay, Calum. You can let it all out now,” you encourage. You know you can’t fix anything. You can’t change the past. But you let him release it. The thing about carrying things that are buried is that they tend to come back when you don’t want them too--like wild animals fed, the things that get buried only ever come back. 

Your stroke along his neck, over his shoulders. Your words are soft. “It’s okay, love. It’s okay. You’re safe to let it out.”

The tremors cease after a long stretch of time, 10 or so minutes,--Calum’s crying reduced now to just the sniffles, just the remnant of tears that trail down his cheeks. With one deep inhale, Calum brings his face out of your hands and rests his head down on your shoulder. His lips brush at your neck, in what are nearly kisses. Your knees ache, you’re sure that when you finally sit your toes are going to tingle due to the lack of blood for the time being. But this is all temporary, not something you need to worry about when you can still hear the shuddery exhales of Calum. 

“Haven’t had someone in a long time tell me I was safe,” he whispers against your skin. His voice is thick with the tears and emotion he’s split. His arms constrict again around your back, arms locked as if attempting to cage you in. You know better. You know it’s for comfort. 

“Well you are; you’re safe with me.”

“Thank you.” The phrase is followed by a kiss this time to your neck. He follows the line to your throat with more gratitude on his tongue. He paints your skin with the phrase. You wonder when you shower again if the words will show up as tattoos on your throat. His forehead is firm in your sternum but you don’t mind the pressure when he falls back into the shelter of your body. 

“You’re welcome,” you return to Calum. 

His voice rumbles through your chest, you catch something that sounds like smell but you can’t fully place it. You thread your fingers around the back of his neck and squeeze. It’s not enough pressure to cause pain but it coaxes his head back. “I said you smell good,” he laughs. 

“Thank you,” you laugh. 

The dark doesn’t make it easy, but you imagine that his cheeks might be flushed, that there might be a little bit of pink to them. There’s some light due to the tall streetlights in the parking lot, but you two are far enough at the edge of the beacon of one and the end of the parking lot so it leaves the truck in the glow of a light and not fully lit. His eyes glisten though as he watches you. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you huff, pressing at his shoulders. 

“Look at you like what?”

“Like you can’t help but love me.” 

“I do love you.”

It’s wrong to say what’s pressing at your teeth, do you love me enough for sacrifice. You know it given what Calum had just confessed. Maybe the two of you were still too young and too stubborn for the kind of love that required sacrifice. Perhaps it’s the kind of love that you had to mature into with each other. Calum wouldn’t have much to sacrifice, save for a few comments, a few sneers. You’d always have something to sacrifice. 

“What’s going on? You can talk to me,” Calum coaxes, hands moving from your hips to your cheeks, thumbs swiping right under your eyes. There are no tears. 

“It’s not a fair question,” you return. “It’s not the right time to ask it.”

“Will you ask it when it’s the right time?” Calum questions. It falls out quietly. You can hear it land into your lap, soft and fragile like the first snow. For a moment, you hope that this winter gives a fresh and deep dusting. The summer was warm and thick. You want winter to be cold. 

“If the right time comes up.”

“No, no not if, when. When it’s the right time to ask, you’ll ask, right?”

It’s a promise that will make you a liar. You know it. “Do you want to make me a liar?”

“Just this once,” Calum answers. 

“What if it’s never a fair question?” What if it’s just insecurity that you’re letting get the best of you?  

“This,” Calum returns, a hand waving between the two of your bodies. “This is not a glass house we’re building. It doesn’t always have to be a fair question. Just as long as it can be made into an honest conversation.”

A conversation--a much more fair objective. You bring your forehead to his--the beer’s a  faint ghost on his breath. All you can smell is Calum--the pomade in his hair, the cologne he sprayed on his throat and wrist that smells like expensive leather with a hint of sandalwood and something sweet like vanilla. You trace the veins in his neck, a steady thumping of his heart under your gentle press. 

“I’m not sure of many things in my life,” you start. “I never had the chance to live with certainty. I always keep that voice in the back of my head fed, that tells me you’ll grow bored. You’ll want someone with less baggage. You’ll need something more suited for the life you have. Because you’re a fucking Prince. I’m a fucking cook. It’s all I ever had--the cooking and a little bit of art to keep me going. But I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I like you. I love you too. But I wonder how far this can go. How far do you want to take it, you know? I don’t need announcements on social media or anything like that. I just--I keep the voice in the back of my head fed because what if all this leaves me.”

Calum’s lips are soft. His mouth sealing around yours in a kiss. His hands are warm on your face. The tears are hot on your cheek--yours this time. What if you lose it all? What if it all goes away? You cannot consume him. But you wish you could. 

“We never know what life’s going to bring, baby.” The silver bracelet Calum slipped on dazzles just a little in the glint of the faint light coming in through the car window. “I know I want to be with you. I know I want to wake up next to you. I want to take you on dates, even if it’s just picnics in the park. I want to show you off to my friends. I want to have a relationship with Teagan and Charlie too. I want to take you all out, have them crash some bumper cars, feed them too much fucking candy and make your parents hate me just a little because I always drop their two youngest off on a sugar high. I want to watch you paint and talk about our days together. I want,” he pauses. You watch his eyes flicker from your face to the space around the car. He’s searching. You don’t know for what though you do hope it’s the words.

You squeeze his face. “You want what?” You just want to hear the words: that Calum wants you. You know it’s true. You just need to hear it. 

He continues on. “I just want you,” Calum laughs, squeezing at your hips. “I want to adopt a dog with you. I miss my boy, Duke, so fucking much. He’s a hole in my heart but I know that I still have love to give. I know it’s not always going to be easy with me. I know it’s scary. But I don’t want these things with anyone else, baby. If I had the opportunity to beg life for anything, I’d beg for you; that you get to stay with me so that you can teach me things, so I can teach you things. You’ll have to stop feeding that voice. It’s a hungry bastard, but starve it.” His arms are trembling. The emotion rocks his voice. 

“Starve it,” he whispers. “I want you to starve that voice so that you can enjoy this too, so that you don’t keep waiting for the bad and start to enjoy the good thing in front of you. We’ll never know what life’s going to bring. I certainly didn’t think life would bring me you. And yet, it did. I’m so happy it did.”

It’s a rush, the surge in the centimeters between the two of you to seal Calum’s mouth in a kiss. I just want you. It’s terrifying to want. Here, especially with Calum. Wanting things didn’t mean you needed them. Wanting things didn’t mean you’d get them either. But you are lying if you say you don’t want Calun. You’re lying if you say you don’t want him to want you. And you’ve always known it. But knowing how far he was with Nora, a part of you just needs reassurance. 

Reassurance comes when Calum kisses back. It comes when he pants into your skin how much he waits for calls. It comes when he squeezes at your hips, rocks you over his pelvis. Reassurance comes when hands are deftly teasing skin under shirts. When you don’t waste time with either of you fully undressing, and you watch the fog creep up on the windows, you feel reassured. Reassurance comes when the gratitude Calum painted you in earlier turns into desire, when he tattoos into your skin I love you over and over with his lips and tongue. 

You need that reassurance like you need the graze of his teeth over your collar bone. Need the curl of his fingers into your flesh. You need the shuddered moans of your steady rhythm as your pelvis rocks up and down his. You need him. You crave him. You want him. You want Calum in every sense of phrase--you want to tell Calum about your day. You want to hear about his day. You want the dog too. You want Diana and Melvin to be pissed at the sight of you and Calum because they know there’s about to be too much sugar involved. You want to paint for Calum, want him to ask you about each color and each stroke. 

“I think you might be the death of me,” you whisper against his jaw. The tension in your stomach tightens as Calum bucks up against your clothed pelvis. You gasp at the feeling. You know the stretch of him, how well he treats you on his cock and tongue. His truck may not be the best place for it, but the thought crosses your mind to beg for it. That is until Calum responds to your statement. 

“No,” Calum groans, “No, I want you to live for me.” His hands slide up your back. The tug pulls you in with ease--your chest pressed into his. “Can you do that for me? Can you live for me?”

I want you to live for me. Another gasp leaves you. Body teetering on the edge of release but the shock pulls you far enough from the edge. You don’t want a glass house with Calum either. You want something real. Perhaps, you want something to live for too--needed it without really knowing you needed that kind of direction. 

You know you can’t live for Calum long-term. You’ll need something else eventually. But Calum’s the best start. You nod before Calum presses you down onto his bulge again. “I can.”

“Good,” he grins. “Now, c’mere.”

The rumble in his voice makes your stomach liquid. Your skin buzzes as you kiss him again. Your orgasm rockets through you as Calum’s tongue pants your mouth. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, body quaking with the fire of your desire consuming you. “That’s it, fuck, baby,” Calum whispers against your mouth, his voice tight. 

Calum won’t be far behind you. You let your hand graze over his nipple, up to his throat. The hold is featherlight. But it’s enough for his eyes to flutter for a moment. You grin. “Make a mess for me,” you command, pressing harder into Calum. 

They say fire only needs oxygen--it takes one gulp and then bursts into flames, an inferno of a single spark. Calum only needs the command, the light press of your fingers at the sides of his throat before his body goes rigid. His gasp falls choked before you pull yourself in close, swiping your tongue over his parted lips. The ghost of his breath, the huff of air as he comes down from his orgasm fans over your face. You revel in it, grinning as you listen to his raggedy breathing. 

Calum laughs, head falling into the rest. You curl into his chest though there’s dampness from your own orgasms and Calum’s creeping in through the denim. “All that’s missing now is the handprint on the window,” he teases. Calum’s fingers are gentle over your back, tracing the length of your spine. 

You reach out to touch the driver side window. “Done.” The scent of leather swells your nose, long after you’ve slipped back into the passenger seat. Calum’s cologne is signed onto the hairs in your nose. The dampness of your jeans turns into a coolness as it starts to dry. Calum’s hand is warm on your knee. I want you to live for me. Insecurity is a useless emotion, yet it still reared it’s ugly head. You were glad to hear Calum’s reassurance. But his demand that you live for him; that you starve the voice in your mind that keeps waiting for the bad, is dizzying. When your entire world has been set in hiding, never being heard or seen, it’s unsettling to have someone draw you out. Calum wants to draw you. He wants you to live in a life that you’d been content with. You hope the spotlight doesn’t burn you.

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