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#I always wanted to do this shirt meme with someone!! and never got around to it till now and he was the perfect victim

mybelovedwoo · 7 months

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choi jongho as boyfriend - headcanon

headcanon, romance, fluff, smut

gn!reader x bf!atz

wc. ~ 0.8k

an: happy jongho day everyone!! i hope you enjoy this one

you can request headcanons if you want to (please only headcanons)!! if you want to be tagged in any of my fics you can apply here <3

masterlist

-the understanding, protective boyfriend who somehow know exactly what you think or feel without even saying it out loud

-he would be very shy around you at first, just because he likes you so so much, but over some time he would get more and more comfortable, and you guys not only would be the best couple but are literally best friends (he giggles in tiny a lot)

-also would be shy every time someone (his hyungs) starts to talk about you, they would probably tease him on purpose, they loves seeing their little one all flustered and red, whines "hyuuunnggg" so they would stop embarassing him

-he also would be shy to initiate any skinship around people, but when you are alone he is the most clingy little teddy bear in the world, and you just love it so much

-would playfight with you sometimes, but is literally so careful to not hurt you even by accident, he treats you like the most valuable treasure, like you are made out of glass, just like san did, but he is more careful because he knows he can be hard to deal with sometimes, he doesn't want to hurt your feelings ever

-he buys you food all the time, he doesn't care if you say your not hungry, you're gonna eat! it's just one of his love languages, he knows you can forget about yourself sometimes, so he's always there to take care of you

-his attention is always on you, he makes you feel like you are the center of his universe, and you truly are

-he likes long talks with you about anything and everything, especially at night maybe with a bottle of beer or soju, this is where you can connect in a deeper level

-kisses with him would be passionate always, as i said before he would kiss you just when it's just the two of you there and no one else, he would grab your face or hug you close to him, he either likes little pecks or long ass make out sessions, no in between

-clings on you all the damn time (the only skinship he does in public too), hugs you from behind and never let's go of you, probably because he likes it that he can tease you like this

-sending you memes 24/7, he is the funniest boyfriend ever, "y/n open what i sent you, i wanna see your reaction" and would giggle next to you seeing all the faces you make about his dumb (but funny) memes

-he's super chill, like he never gets jealous because he trusts you with all his heart, but still got the dead stare when someone tries to flirt with you

-ofc coffee dates are your favorites, especially in a cold weather because you know when your hands gets cold he would take it and put it in his pocket and would hold them there

-i can't imagine him calling anything other then your name, maybe when he feels all lovey-dovey he would call you honey but that's the best he can do

-loves it when you wear one of his shirts when you sleep over at his place (would not wash it and would sleep in it the next day because it has you smell on it)

-when things get though for you, he is there and never leaves your side, always listens to you and gives the best advice

-waking up with him is not easy at all, clings to you and doesn't let you get out of the bed

nsfw +18!!!

-listen listen he is a dom no question (but not a hard dom, but not as soft as san either), but sometimes he likes it when you take control and take care of him, he think it's super hot

-he likes to take it slow and sensual, so foreplay is a must for him, where he can tease you as he wants, likes both loving and playful sex

-it's quite surprising but his sex drive is high, and it is far more meaningful than a quick release of energy

-he's okay with quickies sometimes tho, but they don't fulfill him nearly as much, especially as his love of foreplay and kissing

-he is a vanilla lover, a good missionary where he can hide in the crook of your neck or can watch your beautiful face

-it would 90% start with a long makeout session or cuddling session

-turn-ons for him, pure and simple things, naked bodies, rubbing, mutual masturbation, oral sex, your arousal, and you guys's special connection is enough for him sometimes

-biggest turn-offs is rushing probably, as i said before he likes to take it slow, and doesn't really like someone impatient

-as i said before communication is really important in your relationship, so this is no exception in bed either, you guys talk a lot during it

-he likes big cuddling sessions after it, sometimes you two fall asleep right then and there

#ateez #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez imagine #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez smut #jongho headcanon #jongho #choi jongho #jongho x reader #jongho x you #jongho fluff #jongho smut #jongho boyfriend #jongho imagine #jongho imagines #choi jongho fluff #choi jongho headcanon

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libraryofgage · 5 months

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A Hop, a Skip, and a TARDIS Jump

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two (on the way!) Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One (you're here!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz)

I know it says 10Rose up there, but this series starts with 9Rose, because 9 is also special blorbo in my heart hfjdks Christopher Eccleston didn't have to put his whole chest into the role but he did and I love that for him

Anyway, have fun with this one! We're getting time travel shenanigans coming up (and angst, def some angst, but it'll end sweet I promise), and a little meme at the end

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :)

Satellite Five 200,000

Running into the woman was an accident created by the chaos of something changing on Satellite Five. Steve doesn't know what that is, exactly, but he can feel it in the air, in the way the humans around him have started rushing, in how the food stands have suddenly ground to a halt. And he comes to a halt with them, his hearts speeding up in his chest as the frenzy reminds him of another time, another planet, another chaotic scene that ended with him being launched across time and space while his home died.

When he finally gathers his wits enough to move, he turns right into a woman's leg, bumping his nose hard against her and falling to the ground with a startled cry. He holds his nose, the bridge smarting and causing his eyes to water as he looks up at a pretty young blonde woman who immediately crouches in front of him.

"Sorry about that. You all right?" she asks, her hands hovering in the air like she wants to check him for injuries but doesn't want to make him uncomfortable.

The funny thing is, Steve has seen this woman before. He saw her earlier in the day, getting into the elevator with a journalist and a man, and he assumed he'd never see her again. Nobody who got in the elevator came back. He's so overwhelmed by the shock of seeing her again that he almost misses the familiar aura around her, the lingering traces of golden space dust and passing time.

Almost.

He stares at her with wide eyes, his tears actually falling now, and then throws himself into her arms. "What took so long?!" he cries, clinging to her shirt like he'll be thrown across time and space one more time if he lets go.

"Woah, hey now, no need for crying," she says, utterly confused but gently smoothing down his hair anyway. "What's wrong?"

After taking a few moments to calm down, Steve starts to answer when he realizes something. The woman only has one heart. He can only hear one set of beats in her chest. He jerks away, his hands trembling as he stares at her. She's still covered in that familiar aura, practically swimming in it, but she's not like him.

It hurts. Steve can feel the bitter cold of disappointment replacing the hope that had started to grow between his hearts. He thought...he thought he'd get to be with someone like him again. Maybe not his original family---they're dead, long gone, and Steve is never getting them back---but a new one that wouldn't let him feel quite so alone anymore.

Maybe she was just injured. That would explain it well enough.

"Where....where's your second heart?" he asks, his voice small as he grips the hem of his shirt to steady himself. "Y-you...why do you--"

Before Steve can get the rest of the question, a man in a leather jacket, looking slightly annoyed as he checks his pockets, appears next to the woman. "Right then. C'mon, Rose, we got dead weight to drop off," he says, his tone hard.

The woman, Rose, looks up at him. "Hold on a minute, Doctor," she says, "we've got to help him find his parents first."

Steve opens his mouth, wanting to say that won't be possible, as he looks up at the man. Their eyes meet, and the words get stuck in his throat. If Rose carried lingering space dust and passing time, this man is made of it. Steve can see the gold around him, swirling and calling, singing in a way he'd forgotten about. Even the name is familiar---not that Steve knows this particular Time Lord, of course, but he knows the conventions and traditions.

"I'm afraid that'll be impossible, Rose," the Doctor says, his voice softer and full of disbelief as he crouches next to her on the ground.

"What? How do you know?"

The Doctor doesn't answer her. He just holds a hand out to Steve, waiting patiently. When Steve takes it, the world finally rights itself. He can feel the blood pumping through the Doctor's veins, fast and powerful in a way only two hearts can manage. He can practically taste time and space coating his tongue as he steps closer. When Steve places his hand on the left side of the man's chest, feeling the beating of one heart before sliding his hand over to feel the other, he cries even harder than before.

And the Doctor cries, too.

It's not a loud crying, but he pulls Steve into his arms and holds him with the same desperation and fear that he'll disappear if he loosens his grip that Steve felt when he hugged Rose. "I thought...I thought I was the only one left," the Doctor says, moving his hand to cradle the back of Steve's head.

"Doctor, what's going on here?" Rose asks.

Steve peeks out at her, and then he's lifted into the air, still held in the Doctor's arms. His jacket smells like the past and future, a soothing scent that gets Steve to relax like he hasn't in a long time. "Long story short," the Doctor says, his voice still rough from crying but recovering, "you somehow bumped into the only Time Lord child in existence." A few moments pass before he speaks again, the smile and awe clear in his voice as he says, "You're just fantastic, Rose. Fantastic."

Despite his best efforts, Steve can't keep his eyes open long enough to see how she reacts or what the Doctor does next. The exhaustion of fending for himself and pushing away the despair of losing everything sweeps over him. This could all be a dream, and the Doctor might be a figment of his imagination that disappears when he wakes up, but Steve lets himself dream for now.

--------

Hawkins, Indiana, 1971

"Okay, Steve, go ahead."

Steve glances up at his father, shifts his gaze to his mother, and then approaches the console. He reaches up and starts turning a dial, ignoring his mother's excited noise and his father's interested hum. Once he's turned it enough, he walks around the console and pulls a lever, flips a switch, and yanks another dial two notches to the right. Then, when he's sure his parents can't hear him, he leans in close and whispers, "Take me wherever you'd like me to be, TARDIS."

He feels something warm and happy surge under his fingers where he's holding the console. Not a second later, the familiar whooshing sound of the TARDIS fills the room, and Steve hang on for dear life as his father shouts, "Fantastic! Where do you think we'll land, Rose?"

"Somewhere child-friendly, hopefully," his mother replies, grabbing his father's arm and holding on for dear life.

Steve grins, his hearts beating fast and hard behind his ribs as the TARDIS slowly comes to a stop, its engine quieting to a gentle whirring as it parks. "Go on then," his father says, appearing behind Steve and nudging him to the doors. "See where you've brought us."

With his breath stuck in his throat, Steve slowly pulls the left door open. Sunlight streams into the TARDIS along with the delighted shrieks of other children and a warm wind that can only mean summer. Steve blinks, staring at the playground a few feet away.

"Oh," his father says, his tone duller than before, "seems boring."

This statement is followed by both the TARDIS making an offended noise and Steve's mother smacking his father in the chest. "Don't be rude! Boring is safe, which is good for Steve's first drive."

"Can...can I go play?" Steve asks, his voice soft as he feels a sudden longing sweeping through him. He hasn't played with people his age after leaving Gallifrey. In fact, he hasn't been around them. On Satellite Five, Steve didn't see other children. They were cared for on a different floor, and he never risked getting into the elevator.

Since leaving Satellite Five (since finding another Time Lord and basking in the TARDIS and crying together when Steve accidentally called the Doctor "Dad" and Rose "Mom"), Steve has been surrounded by Daleks and nanogenes and older humans and every alien under the sun, but he's never been around children.

The thought is exhilarating and terrifying and alluring all at once.

"Of course, Steve," his mother says, placing her hand on his head and brushing a few stray hairs from his face. "You go play, and we'll call you back in a few hours for some ice cream, yeah?"

Steve grins and nods eagerly, throwing a quick goodbye to his parents before running out of the TARDIS. He dashes across the street, coming to the edge of the playground before stopping. The grass turns into tiny rocks and pebbles beneath slides and swings and monkey bars and a merry-go-round. And kids. More kids than Steve really knows what to do with, which gives him an unfamiliar feeling of anxiety that makes him wipe his palms on his shirt.

"Hey, why are you just standing there?"

The question is asked by another boy Steve's age. His hair is a little frizzy and curls around his ears, and he's got band-aids covering his arms and stretching across the bridge of his nose. He's standing to Steve's left, holding a red rubber ball and ignoring the other kids around them.

"I've...never been here before," Steve says, meaning that he's never been in this situation.

The boy doesn't understand that, though. But when he says, "Oh, so you're new around here," Steve doesn't disagree. "Well, nice to meetcha. I'm Eddie."

He shifts to hold the ball against his chest with one arm and holds out his other hand. Taking it and shaking once, Steve introduces himself and asks, "Can we be friends?"

Eddie's eyes brighten, and he nods. "Yeah! Let's be bestest friends. Can I call you Stevie? Mom says you can give nicknames to friends."

"Sure! So, uh, what do we do now?"

Eddie pauses, looking at the playground with a slight frown. "We could play games," he says slowly.

"Oh! How about Weeping Angel?"

"What's that?"

Steve thinks for a moment. "Weeping Angels are these statues that move when you don't look at them. In the game, someone will face away, and the other person will start sneaking up on them. If the first person turns, the second has to freeze in place. If the first person sees them move, they lose. If the second person reaches the first and touches them, they win."

"It sounds like Rad Light, Green Light," Eddie says, tilting his head slightly. "But, sure! Let's play it."

Steve smiles brightly and follows Eddie to a clear patch of playground. "I'll be the Angel in this round," he offers, waiting for Eddie to agree before walking a few feet away. "Let me know when you're ready!"

Eddie turns around, still holding the rubber ball, and glances over his shoulder. He stares at Steve for a few seconds before looking away and saying, "Ready!"

As lightly as he can, Steve takes a few steps forward, doing his best to make no sounds like the Weeping Angels he's seen before. When he notices Eddie moving, he freezes, quickly placing his hands over his eyes but leaving enough room to peek between his fingers.

When Eddie turns, he's frozen in a classic Weeping Angel pose. Eddie studies him for a few seconds, eyes narrowed before slowly turning around again. Steve exhales softly, and the game continues.

Steve wins exactly three times, Eddie wins twice, and there's one round in which they both dissolve into laughter because of the position Steve freezes in, so they don't count it. When Eddie gets bored of playing, he introduces Steve to foursquare, which is why he has the rubber ball. When he gets bored of that he drags Steve around the playground, introducing him to each piece of equipment with pride.

By the time the sun has started to dip low on the horizon, Steve is sweaty and dirty and happier than he's ever felt as he hides under the slide with Eddie. They're pressed close together, sharing a popsicle Eddie's mother had given them, purple juice making their hands sticky.

"You're really cool, Stevie," Eddie suddenly says, his lips and tongue purple as he offers the last bit of popsicle to Steve.

After taking it and letting the cold ice melt on his tongue, Steve asks, "Hey, do bestest friends keep secrets that only they know?"

"Of course! Nothing is stronger than a bestest friend secret."

"But you gotta promise not to tell anyone. Not even your mom."

Eddie seems to realize this is serious now, and he straightens up a bit. "I won't," he promises, "cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye."

That seems a bit extreme to Steve, but what does he know of human customs? He leans in close, his mouth almost pressing against Eddie's ear, and whispers, "I'm an alien."

He pulls away in time to see Eddie's disbelieving look. "What? You look human. No way you're an alien."

"I am!" Steve says. "How many hearts have you got?"

"One. Duh."

"I've got two."

Eddie snorts. "Yeah. Right. Nobody has two hearts."

"Here, you can feel them," Steve says before grabbing Eddie's hand and placing it over the left side of his chest. He waits a few seconds, making sure Eddie can feel that heart, before sliding his hand to the right side. He watches Eddie's face turn bright red, and Steve figures it's from excitement or shock at realizing Steve is, in fact, an alien.

Before Eddie can say anything, Steve hears his mother calling, "Steve! It's time to go!"

He pouts, letting go of Eddie's hand. "Aw, man," he mumbles, crawling out from beneath the slide. Eddie scrambles after him, his cheeks still flushed and his eyes wide. "I gotta go now, but I'll see you again soon, Eddie."

"Yeah, soon," Eddie mumbles, seeming dazed until he shakes his head. "Your, um, secret is safe with me, Stevie."

Steve blinks and flashes a blinding smile. "Of course it is," he says, "You're my bestest friend."

With that, he hugs Eddie and then runs to his mother, brimming with excitement at getting to tell her all about the park and Eddie.

------

If you'd like to be tagged for this series, let me know!

And, finally, a meme for your viewing pleasure:

#steddie #steddie fic #doctor who #doctor who crossover #steddie over time #that's the tag for this one bois #i'm very proud of the little pun there actually #steve harrington #eddie munson #ninth doctor #rose tyler #time lord steve harrington #ninerose #anyway thanks for reading i hope you enjoyed the meme hfdusjk

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laniemae · 7 months

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The sexualisation of Mikoto, stalking, and how the fandom is repeating this.

CW: Stalking, sexual harassment, fanservice, murder

I’ve been thinking a lot about Double’s thumbnail, and especially the stalking theory. And if you think about it a lot basically everything fits up and that his victim was likely his stalker. Although a lot about what happened I never really have seen discussion on the why or how it’s been happening, so I just want to give my thoughts and theories on this all before Double.

The fanservice in MeMe:

The fanservice in MeMe has always felt really off to me. Milgram never has any fanservice-y stuff, minus Yuno in Tear Drop, but it’s only just her revealing outfit and nothing to do with strange camera angles or whatnot, and it’s very important to her character. For me and what I’ve think the consensus in the fandom has been, is it’s nothing more than that. That the fanservice is only there to appeal to thirsty fans or whatever. But I’ve been thinking a lot, and with the music videos extracted from prisoners minds, everything has a meaning in one way or the other. So for the creators to just throw a bunch of fanservice scenes in MeMe with no meaning apart from just plain fanservice feels really counter intuitive to the whole point of the MVs. And especially how this has never happened before makes it really strange to me. And with this idea in mind and going back to the stalking theory I mentioned earlier, I think it’s disgustingly clear what has happened to Mikoto.

Mikoto being watched:

I think what’s going on is that Mikoto was stalked for sexual reasons. The constant scenes of him in embarrassing moments (taking of his shirt, having a shower, having a bath) is what the stalker has been seeing and this subconsciously put itself into MeMe from Mikoto’s POV. Camera imagery in MeMe is very prevalent, from at the beginning him grabbing the camera and at the end him picking it up and punching it. I think this is supposed to represent him realising he’s being stalked and trying to hunt down who’s been doing it, and the destruction of the camera at the end to represent him killing the person.

Also around the middle of the song, we see security cam footage of him entering his apartment and crying on his couch, with Mikoto hyperventilating and gasping in the background. I feel like with everything I’ve said before this scene makes it extremely clear, that someone put up a bunch of camera around his house to catch him in those moments, if we’re taking that scene literally.

Then it cuts to him laughing at the screen in darkness, and the aforementioned fanservice scene right after this sequence of events really makes things scary to what was happening in his house. And also like I said before about the hyperventilating during this scene. I could mean multiple things such as him having a panic attack, being actually attacked or worse.

And the imagery of being watched doesn’t stop at just the camera stuff. At the beginning of MeMe in the scene at the train station, the camera moves around from behind a wall to reveal Mikoto sitting there holding a bat, like someone is watching him directly. To further back this up there’s a vignette around the edge of the camera and wee see it blink, like from a POV shot. And after the blink Mikoto disappears, and then we see him outside swinging a bat at the POV (just want to note this is outside and is probably in a different place than the train station, but I don’t know what to make of that right now, and how also the vignette I pointed out before isn’t present here). Then it cuts back to the scene in the train station, now with Mikoto holding a bat and walking towards someone on the ground, attacking them. Noticeably the vignette is still here in this scene, so the person Mikoto was attacking likely wasn’t his stalker, perhaps he just thought they were.

Wait I suddenly just got a theory from this. I just mentioned how the vignette in the scene I just mentioned likely means that Mikoto attacked someone else and the stalker was watching on. Me and basically everyone else has assumed that guy was his victim, but then what about the stalker? I’ve always strongly believed that Mikoto only killed one person but now I’m just starting to doubt that. If MeMe is to be taken in chronological order in this part, he probably killed that guy then realised that he was continuing being stalked. And as I said at the beginning of my analysis I mentioned that Mikoto punching the camera at the end could be representative of him killing the stalker and ending it (also to mention he gets the death card right before hand). And I didn’t think of it when I wrote that but what if he did actually kill multiple people in an attempt to kill his stalker. Hmm.

And going back to what I was talking about before, he probably entered his apartment afterwards and switched to Bluekoto after it was assumed everything was safe now. (Just saying I’m using Mikoto interchangeably to refer to all of the alters as it’s not clear who’s doing what, but this takes the theory of that blue was the murderer and not the other/s into account, because there’s a part of me that feels it wasn’t him attacking those people as red/green has a strong desire to protect blue and hide him from the traumatic events taking place).

I feel like I’ve gone way off track with what I’ve been saying here because while writing this I just keep noticing more and more stuff to write down and I just thought of someone thing again.

Every time it appears that Mikoto killed someone (the train scene, the garbage scene although the bag doesn’t look like a human body just saying), it cuts to a fanservice-y scene right after, maybe implying that the person he killed wasn’t the stalker, and he’s still being watched afterwards. Although this makes the bath scene kinda out of place as it doesn’t take place after a murder I think, and someone mentioned it was before the shower scene which kinda debunks this but I just wanted to mention this because why not.

Mikoto’s mindscape in MeMe:

Another thing I’ve been thinking about a lot is every character’s “mindscapes” as I call them. Yuno has an empty pink void with a tower, Fuuta has a fantasy land, Mahiru has a room inside a birdcage ect. And all of these places represent an aspect of their characters. Yuno’s representing her feelings of emptiness, Fuuta feeling that everything he’s doing is for justice and that he’s a cool hero, Mahiru being trapped and sheltered in an ideal concept of love and stuff like that. I’m going to make a theory on this in the future as it’s very interesting to me but Mikoto’s mindscape is always something that’s confused me.

Mikoto’s mindscape is a parallel of his apartment. Down to the couches, tables and everything, but lacking the bookcase and tv being buried in the water for whatever reason.

(Also I just noticed but there’s a blue thing behind the couch that Mikoto laid his head down on before which could be a bed or whatever. But in the mindscape and this other shot we don’t see it???)

(Actually maybe we do if we squint, oh well)

Okay, okay back to what I was actually going to say. The furniture from the apartment appearing in the mindscape makes sense, but what about everything else? The broken, tiled walls, the mirror, how everything is covered in a thin layer of water, the clear blue sky. There’s a bunch of this stuff I could analyse in my future post about mindscapes but I’ll just say the stuff that relates to what I was talking about earlier. But to say it right now, I think all that other stuff is supposed to be the bathroom we see him in.

Notice here the tiles are exactly the same, and we even see the same mirror he looks at himself in, in real life then Mikoto in the mindscape.

Also to point out how the Mikoto we see looking into the mirror here is wearing a sleeve and likely in the mindscape and as someone mentioned, since the ahoge is backwards it’s likely a reflection. Although it’s strange that it has the same green filter both ways.

After this we see bluekoto (presumably) fall backwards into the water. And another strange thing I noticed is that this mirror is behind the couch, but when he falls down the couch is tipped over.

Don’t know what it make of this but again I’m just constantly pointing stuff out I notice as writing this.

So basically I think the mindscape is a mix of the living room and the bathroom. The furniture from the living room and the water, mirror and tiles from the bathroom. But this makes things confusing, why the bathroom? Why would Mikoto project imagery of his bathroom into his own mindscape? This brings me to what I was saying before. The walls in the mindscape are completely collapsed, providing no closure or privacy to this “room”. The sky is also out, so his mindscape feels very exposed. And what I said earlier about my staking theory. It’s likely that someone placed cameras up in/around his bathroom to record him naked, a complete breach of privacy and that’s why this mindscape is so exposed and has elements from there. Even in this world that he created, he still doesn’t feel safe at all.

The audience and the repeating of Mikoto’s trauma:

Basically to sum it up from what I’ve said. Mikoto was being stalked and sexualised by someone. Cameras were placed up around his house to record him in embarrassing situations and he figured out, and attempted to kill the stalker.

But here’s one thing, that story we likely see in MeMe is happening again. But with the audience.

When MeMe came out everyone went ballistic. Lots of people were very surprised in how violent it was, how compared to the calm preview we saw it instantly started off with death metal and destroyed every idea we had about him, and kept switching between being calm and violent. But what I want to walk about right now is the reaction to the fanservice.

As we all know, when MeMe released a horde of thirsty tiktokers came over and started absolutely obsessing over Mikoto and all the fanservice scenes we see. Things got so out of control that people tried to vote him innocent just because he was hot and even jackalope bought this up. But thinking about this, it’s getting dangerously close to what I think happened in his story. Being filmed in embarrassing moments without consent, and having people obsess and sexualise you for that. The music videos are representative of the prisoner’s minds, and in no way would have Mikoto known how he was shown naked and shirtless for a huge chunk of MeMe. Same as him being stalked and recorded in his story if I’m right.

The fandom here is doing exactly what his perpetrator did to him down to a T. It’s almost like what happened with Amane when people tried to reverse her brainwashing by showing her tough love by not forgiving her, exactly like what the cult did to her to try and make her obey them more. This thing is happening to Mikoto as well as Amane and repeating their traumas. And also to mention how Mikoto has DID which is a result of repeated childhood abuse so it’s likely this has been happening to him alot and just can’t escape from this reality. And for the alters to take in all the trauma and leave the host blissfully unaware of everything’s that’s happening.

This brings into account how the guilty prisoners can hear the voices of the audience judging them. Fuuta completely broke down as he was constantly harassed with strange voices judging him and denying his actions. And he’s mentioned a lot of times how he can’t stand this feeling of being watched and this manifests through the eyes in Backdraft. And with Mikoto from everything I’ve been saying before it’s very likely he has trauma from this. And now feeling like he’s being watched and hearing the voices of the audience, who we know constantly sexualises him. It’s likely he’ll have to relive his trauma once again that he thought he finally escaped…

Conclusion / TL;DR

To sum this whole theory up I believe that fanservice in MeMe actually has importance besides just fanservice. And it’s likely Mikoto was being stalked by someone and recorded in those situations, and he ended up hunting the person down and killing them. And now because of the audience’s constant thirsting over him and how the guilty prisoners can hear everything we say about them, Mikoto will have to relive his suffering again.

Other things I’d like to briefly mention but didn’t have any space to put in, Is how since Mikoto rides a bike instead of a train to work as he said but we see lots of train imagery. And I think what happened is that he was probably being harassed on the train and switched to going to work alone. And the thumbnail in Double we see him looking depressed, on a train surrounded by destroyed mannequins.

#milgram #Mikoto kayano #milgram theory #cw stalking #cw s3xual harassment #After writing this I’m becoming more and more scared for what we’ll see in double #I’ve never really seen this theory talked about in much detail and connecting it to the stalking theory and this is my thoughts on it #I kept getting off track writing this and came up with a bunch of mini theories I just shoved in there that were somewhat related #ADHD brain working again #I also wanted to point out the parallels with Amane on the audience repeating the character’s traumas #I find it really interesting how milgram does something like that which I have never sen in any media before #I just want mikoto to be happy #I never usually write stuff on this topic but the more I kept thinking about it the more likely it seemed #Repost because it didn’t show up in tags #Also for something I want to note after I posted this is that mikoto is always shown sitting with his legs spread out #To the point we never see him sitting normally #I hope this doesn’t mean anything but I felt like it could possibly be related but I don’t want it to #LanieMae’s theories #To note I had to censor the Tw tag because it blocked my post if I wrote it normally sorry about that

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gabessquishytum · 5 months

Note

So I think I will turn that 70s music AU into it's own thing, but never fear! I will not leave anyone Goth Dreamless.

So two ideas about Goth Dream. The first one is that he's the local weirdo dad to Orpheus, a bright and friendly student. He's always wearing black on black with nail polish and hair so weird it'd put Robert Smith to shame. But he's known for being one of the kinder, more caring parents. He hand makes special treats for Orpheus's youth league football team. He organizes expansive birthday parties for his son's whole class and don't even get started on their Halloween party. He has the biggest house on the block and turns it into a veritable Halloween amusement park with giant skeletons and an elaborate haunted house. Doesn't help that he has real taxidermied bats hanging from his ceiling. All in all, while he's weird, he's a good father.

Robyn goes to the same school on scholarship and Hob works multiple jobs to keep Robyn in this posh private school. Him and Orpheus became fast friends when Orpheus invited him over while they waited for Hob to get off his second job. Unfortunately they forgot to mention that to Robyn's dad. Which led to Hob frantically calling his son, then showing up to Dream's house furious that Robyn forgot to mention his little excursion to a stranger's house. Fortunately Dream, in his black silk pyjama pants and well-worn and holey Bauhaus shirt, sufficiently charmed Hob enough to invite the two over for dinner. Then when the boys tired themselves out running around the property and fell asleep in Orpheus's room, Hob got to tire himself out on Dream's prick.

The second idea I had when browsing some memes and saw a Goth Girl Simp starter pack which is totally Hob. Not that he simps over Goth guys and gals specifically, just that he has a crush.

Dream is everything he isn't. He's tall, thin, and so fair it's almost like he's a fairy. He's effortlessly cool and mysterious, never deigning to speak more than a few words with most people. He's a regular at Hob's pub but doesn't do more than drink merlot alone in a corner booth. Occasionally he brings a date, but he's seen those relationships come and go. The last girl, Thessaly, got so mad at his lack of attention that she splashed her drink in his face and stormed out. Hob comped her drinks and Dream left shortly after paying for his wine.

Joanna laughs at the whole situation. In her experience, lots of people want a goth partner, but the magic fades when they take off their make-up and walk around and their pillows are stained with black hair dye. Hob is not deterred! He wants that stranger carnally. But how is he going to relate to him? The hardest album he has in his whole flat is a copy of Diva classics covered by some punk band. He didn't spend much time with the punks or metalheads in school and couldn't tell a Christan Death song from Sisters of Mercy. Jo laughs at him the entire way through as she helps him spike his hair and paint his nails.

Then comes show time. Dream comes in every day around 7:30-8. He comes around dressed to the Gothic nines with two glasses of red wine. He had Jo put some Stone Roses on the jukebox. He casually sits in the booth and tells him drinks are free if he cares to give a little of his time. Dream bursts out laughing. That horrid, donkey bray of a laugh deflates Hob's ego terribly. He gets up to leave, but Dream grabs his hand. He's never had someone try so hard to cater to his fashion sense. It's not needed as Dream had a crush on Hob, and well, a full night full of fucking wine drinking wasn't on anyone's to do list before tonight, but Hob can't complain!

🎸

I dearly, dearly love the idea of Hob simping for goth Dream in literally any scenario. It just brings me so much joy. Like, the image of Hob laying on the bed watching as Dream goes through the process of making himself up: litres of white foundation, powder, yards of black eyeliner in complex patterns, shining black lipstick, dozens of items of carefully selected silver jewellery, half a can of hairspray. Hob is obsessed with the entire process. And of course Dream is a lucky bastard who doesn't need to dye his hair, but can you imagine the day he finds his first greys? He's locking himself in the bathroom patching up every single spot of hair that isn't absolutely pitch black. Hob diligently helps and doesn't even complain about the fact that they'll never get the stains off the sink. He assures Dream that no, he won't have to shave it all off like Andrew Eldritch. It's fine, no one will even see which bits are dyed.

And Hob is just as much as a simp on the days where Dream’s hair is sticking out at all angles completely unstyled, and he's still in his pyjamas at 2pm. Hob still takes his job as Goth Boyfriend Appreciator very seriously, thanks very much. Arguably Dream is at his MOST goth when he's wearing Hob’s tracksuit down to the local tesco and having a silent battle with someone's grandmother over the last Danish pastry.

Also!! Goth dad Dream has captured my heart because!!!! Goth baby/child Orpheus!!!! In his little black outfits and spikey hair listening to Siouxsie and the banshees on Dream’s ancient ipod!!!! I am weak for it. And of course he's besties with Robyn, who has inherited his dad's love of Clannad and Fairport Convention. A match made in musical heaven, bless them <3

#🎸 anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft

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ctimenefic · 3 months

Text

So @strawberry-daiquiris wrote an incredible F1 Traitors AU (seriously, go read it) and was kind enough to let me paddle around in the Galex end of the pool.

Many thanks to @latecomersprivilege, for whom this is a belated birthday gift, an almost on time Valentine's gift, and ultimately not what she asked for but what she's getting!

It’s a month since the last episode aired and George hasn’t messaged him.

Oh, he’s in the group chat - he’s the admin of the group chat. He’s posting memes, even the ones about himself, nearly every day. Asking very sincerely after people’s partners, their kids. Adding little crying laughing emojis to almost all the jokes. (Almost all - never Alex’s. Not even once. Which. Come on. Checo’s not even that funny.)

So. Yeah, it’d been bad, at the end, at their last round table together, George damp eyed and smiling through it and Alex nearly fumbling his own defence trying to tell him one more time “it’s just a game”.

But. Like. Not so bad as to cancel out everything else. Or at least, Alex had thought so. Hoped so.

It’s been a month.

Hey just wondering if we shd have a coffee or smthg? Clear the air?

Sure. When?

Nxt wk? Peckham?

(George told him all about his little flat in Dulwich, how he properly loved all the twee village-y shit like the wooden sign-posts and bougie cafes, in their murmured conversations in the hotel corridors, heads ducked together and voices low. Alex had taken the piss, but so softly he’d barely recognised his own cadence. That- that had been the first clue, before he’d started noticing how George’s adams apple bobbed when he got loud.

But Dulwich is packed to the brim with Traitors fans, has to be, all middle class mums and families that gather round the telly of an evening to actually spend time together. They’d be spotted in seconds. So Peckham feels safer, crowded and anonymous and too fucking cool to pay attention if Alex has to get on his knees and beg George to- to-)

The cafe’s still a bit posh, which means it��s basically deserted. George is wearing the kind of T-shirt that only fits that well because it’s expensive.

He’s ordered tea already, and Alex wants to remind him to drink up, like he did at breakfast every morning, because George would always get too into their conversation to finish before it got cold. He’d slug it back anyway, wincing, and Alex would pretend to ignore the line of his throat.

“I’m sorry you didn’t win,” George blurts. “I know I- I didn’t help, I know, but after, I did want it to be you. You’d worked so hard.”

Alex stares at him. “I never thought I would. Maybe near the end, a bit, but. Well. I got lucky.”

George pulls a face. “Come on, you were brilliant at it. So convincing. I really thought I’d find out you were, like, an actor or something.”

George smiles at that, small and tight. “Oh, yeah, the office have been so weird about it. Saying they didn't watch, and then making jokes that prove they did. I've stopped paying attention to it.”

Alex tries to laugh, like it’s a joke. Like he hadn’t talked George’s ear off about the practice. How he’d use the money, if they won - as Faithful - to get back to his veterinary degree, properly qualify. “Nah, still at my old place. They’ve, uh, let me take the backroom stuff for a bit, while it dies down.”

Alex nods. Pretends George has got better at lying. “Hope they're not being nasty.”

“Oh, not too bad.” The ‘too’ makes Alex want to snarl, set his teeth in someone's neck. Bastards. And George's blasé tone runs a little thin as he goes on. “Might quit, actually, try the influencer thing for a bit. It's basically the same as sales, just, you know. Different product.”

“You'd be good at that,” Alex tries. “Influential. I'd be, uh, influenced.” In the time it takes George to blink three times, Alex experiences all nine levels of hell and a few more added just for him.

I'd be influenced. Christ.

“How are you doing with that, sponsorships and stuff?” George asks and Alex shrugs. He’s got his fans, the ones who think he was robbed, rather than bottled it. His Insta’s big, now, not millions but, like, decent. Marketable. Problem is, he isn’t.

“Turns out, being known as a really good liar doesn’t get loads of hashtag spon ops,” he says, trying to keep it light. Like money hadn’t been the whole point. George’s face falls, the first unrehearsed expression Alex has seen all morning.

“Oh crikey, I’m sorry, I didn’t- cause it’s been alright, and I was a traitor too, at the end so-”

“Yeah, but I forced you into it, didn’t I? I’m the bad guy.” There’s a decent TikTok edit of him to that Billie Eilish song, all his smiles and laughs and fond looks, set to the beat of sociopathy. It’s very slick; turned his stomach on the second watch. “Plus, you know, you look like that, which probably helps.”

He knows it’s been more than alright for George. He hasn’t liked any of his Instagram posts, too… proud? ashamed? But he’s seen them all, including the Stories, so George must know he’s been there. Or maybe he doesn’t, maybe there’s hundreds of people, and they’re not mutuals, he remembers abruptly. George didn’t follow him back.

He flips his phone in his hands, once, twice; worries at the crack in the screen down by the bottom right corner, just enough to feel the scrape against the pad of his thumb.

George notices, of course. Those big blue eyes, all the better for spotting clues. Terrible at knowing what they meant. “Do you wanna take a picture for insta then? Show people it’s all water under the bridge?”

“Uh, not really? I mean…” it doesn’t feel under the bridge, or air cleared. Alex still feels like he’s choking on it.

That small wrinkle he used to make fun of appears between George’s brows. “Wasn’t that the point of this?”

“Jesus, no, I’m not-” Alex feels sick, properly sick, hot chocolate coming back on him for a second. “I wanted to be friends - I want to be friends. Again.”

“Again,” George repeats, after a beat.

Alex swallows. Presses the tip of his tongue against the edge of his front teeth, where they turn sharp enough to cut, like a bit of pain now will soothe the sucking void where his stomach used to be. “Right, no, of course. Forget it, look, I'll get these and-”

George catches his wrist before he can make a break for it. His thumb lands in the soft spot between the tendons, where Alex’s pulse beats - ha - traitorously fast.

“Wait. You haven't told me how your mum is. And your sisters. And Luca, obviously, and the cats.”

“The cats?”

“Yeah, obviously. Can't go before I hear about the cats, ‘Lex. All of them. So you should probably, um, sit back down.”

So he does.

#my fic #f1 rpf fic #f1 rpf #galex #traitors au #an attempt was made #there's probably a part two where they Actually Kiss but good luck future me on writing that

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banditthewriter · 1 year

Text

Compatible - Billy Russo - 1

Summary: Compatible is a program where applicants live in a secluded neighborhood for a year and spend each month with someone the algorithm says you are compatible with. At the end of a year, the program will tell you who you are most compatible with. The reader joins the neighborhood with an open heart and open mind, hoping to find someone. Loosely based on the Black Mirror episode Hang The DJ S04E04.

*gif is mine*

I hope you enjoy!

---

Month One

—

The bag on your bed was basically full but you still shoved another t-shirt in. There was a limit on the amount of bags but that didn’t limit how much stuff you could put in the bags. You had every intention of packing them to the brim if at all possible.

“I still can’t believe you’re doing this,” your best friend Karen said as she handed you a rolled up pair of jeans. “You realize we won’t see each other for a year. A whole year.”

You rolled your eyes as you shoved the jeans in with everything else.

“We can still video each other and everything. It’s not like I’m disappearing to another planet. I’ll just be an hour down the road.”

She snorted at that as she leaned against the door and crossed her arms over her chest.

“An hour down the road in a walled community with limited access to the outside world.”

You zipped the bag, but just barely. Satisfied that both of your large suitcases were as full as possible, you grabbed your toiletry bag and walked into the bathroom.

“Connections with the outside world could influence the algorithm. Hard to find your perfect match if you’re always texting memes to people.”

Karen moved so she could see you in the reflection of the mirror.

“It’s hard to find your perfect match from blind dating on steroids.”

“We’re never going to agree on this.”

The phone buzzed in your pocket and you pulled it out to check the time. Twenty minutes before the car would be there.

“Listen, I know that Compatible is a legit company. Trust me, I looked into them a lot before I signed. Is it a little weird, sure, but…I want to do this.”

She came around and approached you in the bathroom.

“I’ll try to stop worrying. I just want you to be happy.”

You smiled and wrapped her in a hug.

“I know you do.”

With the air a little clearer, Karen helped you pack up your bathroom. The two of you had already emptied your fridge and freezer and cabinets of anything that might spoil in the year. The company negotiated with landlords so that rent could be frozen but that you wouldn’t get evicted while you lived in their neighborhood.

The car pulled up right on time as the two of you got to the curb. Another hug and you were ushered into the car by the driver. Karen waved, anxiety and forced excitement clear on her face. You waved back just in time for the car to pull away and start moving.

You still couldn’t believe you were doing this. When the ad for Compatible came up, you’d thought it was a joke. The more you looked into them, the more research you did, the more you started to come around to the idea. And then one night after another failed date, you entered in your information and applied.

The questionnaire that you received was nearly 300 questions long. It took you three days to fill it out. Then a week later you got your invite for the closest Compatible neighborhood.

These neighborhoods existed all over the country. In fact you were pretty sure they had branched out to other countries now. And on every website were links to reviews that came from third party sites as a way to show transparency. Not all of the reviews were favorable, some people had done the year in a neighborhood and left just as alone as they started out. It wasn’t like you were promised a wedding ring and a happily ever after by the end of it. Compatible just promised that you would be matched with the people you were most compatible with. Chemistry and attraction were still things the algorithm couldn’t predict…yet.

You flipped open the packet that you had received in the mail and pulled out the timeline. For the next 12 months, you were going to be in the neighborhood with 35 other people. Each month you’d move into a different house in the neighborhood and live with someone that was deemed as compatible with you. After a month, you’d pack your stuff and move to the next house to live with the next person. At the end of the year, the system would set you up with the person you were most compatible with and you’d have a week long vacation with them fully paid for by the company.

From there it would be up to the participants to decide if they wanted to pursue an actual relationship or not.

In the packet there was a large map of the neighborhood. There were nearly fifty houses that everyone would be cycled through randomly, all of them set up exactly the same on the inside to foster familiarity. And of course there were other businesses because no one was allowed to leave the neighborhood except for extenuating circumstances.

You looked over at the list of businesses. There was a mall that had all kinds of stores, a list of restaurants that honestly surprised you, movie theaters, parks, and book stores. There were two gas stations at either end of the neighborhood, but you knew that wasn’t necessarily for the participants. Cars were not allowed for the individuals but the people that ran the company had some for transport like what you were in right then.

Although not on the map, you knew that outside of the neighborhood would be a police station and a fire station. Neighborhoods were built near these hubs for protection because while they didn’t have them in the neighborhood, they needed to be nearby just in case something went wrong.

Everyone was screened heavily before they were approved to come to the neighborhood, but nothing was foolproof.

There was still a little while before you got to the neighborhood so you pulled the palm sized tablet from your purse. It was the size of a phone but it didn’t operate the same way. This was your key to the neighborhood and would unlock the houses you were assigned to throughout the year. It was also your connection to the system and would randomly ask you questions so that it could calculate compatibility. It also had a feature that would let you chat with your match but that icon was dark at the moment. Guess you had to meet them first.

What would the people in the neighborhood be like? The compatibility levels would differ of course, but there were 35 people that you had a chance to meet. You’d only end up actually being matched with 12 of those, but it still meant pretty good odds.

You weren’t sure that you expected to leave this year with the love of your life, but you weren’t going to give up hope. You were a closet romantic, yearned for a love like your parents had, and dating hadn’t given you that opportunity. You thought that maybe starting with something basic like a computer generated compatibility algorithm might help that.

Of course your parents thought you were crazy. Well, your mom did. Your dad had told you to keep an open heart and an open mind for the year. And you knew how Karen felt about the situation.

Thankfully your work was understanding and would allow you to keep working from the neighborhood. You’d read some reviews where people lost their jobs during that year, but it was mostly marketed towards people that could either afford that or who were willing to make that sacrifice.

The website also said they were working on some less involved versions for people who did not have the luxury of up-ending their lives for a year. That sounded more like speed dating or Tinder than you were comfortable with so you were glad that you could take this chance.

The car seemed to slow down and you looked through the windshield. The scenery changed from dense trees to a large concrete wall. Straight ahead was a large chrome gate and a little gate house. Your driver cleared his throat as he slowed down some more.

“Please present your pad to the guard at the gate,” he said in a monotone voice.

Since it was already in your hand, you merely reached over to unroll the window and held it out once the car stopped. The guard plugged the pad into a larger one that he held. After a moment he looked up at you and then back down. Then he had you give him your name and date of birth.

“Alright, here you go. You’ll be starting off in house number sixteen. Welcome to Compatibile.”

With that he handed you back your pad. You sat back in the seat as the driver went through the now open gates. Your mouth dropped open at the sight of the neighborhood in front of you. It looked more amazing than you had imagined possible.

There were other cars on the road, stopping in front of various houses. The houses were spread pretty far apart with trees lined between them to offer privacy.

The drive pulled into one of the parking spaces in front of a house with the number sixteen above the door. You felt a thrill go through me as you stared at it. You reached out for the handle but your driver cleared his throat again.

“Have to wait for the other person. Both of you have to be together to open the house for the first time.”

That thrill seemed to spread over you even more. This was it. You were about to meet your first match. This was really happening. And as every black car came around the corner and continued past the house, you felt even more excitement go through you.

And then a car pulled up beside yours. The windows were tinted enough that you couldn’t really see inside, but it didn’t matter. Your door was opened by your driver who you hadn’t even noticed had left. Then you watched as the other car door was opened as well and someone stepped out.

Holy. Shit. The man was incredibly attractive. Facial hair perfectly trimmed, dark hair slicked back off of his face, dark eyes that roamed over the yard and then went to the car you were in.

You quickly checked your reflection in the blank screen of your pad before you slid out of the seat. You were getting out on the side furthest from your match so you breathed to steel your nerves before you walked around the car. The man who had gotten out of the car beside yours followed suit. By unspoken agreement you both headed towards the house.

“Uh, hi. I guess we should introduce ourselves,” you said a little unsurely.

The man opened his mouth to respond, but your driver interrupted as he pointed at something beside the door. It looked like some sort of touch pad. When you approached, it lit up. To each side was a white square just big enough for you to place your pad. The other driver explained that you needed to tap the receiving end of your pad to the square for it to sync so both of you did just that.

After a second the screen flashed white. Then the word “Welcome” flashed for a few moments before you saw your name.

Not just your name, but your match’s too. Billy Russo.

“Nice to meet you Billy,” you said with a smile.

He repeated it back to you with a matching smile. Your drivers then started to carry your luggage towards the porch so Billy reached out and turned the doorknob to open the door for you and for them. He gestured for you to go in first and you smiled again before you quickly stepped into the house.

It wasn’t overly large, but it would just be two of you here for a month so you didn’t need too much room. There was a couch in front of a large screen television, a window seat that faced into the backyard which seemed to have a bench and table out in the garden. There was a small dining area separated from the kitchen with a breakfast bar and stools. All of the appliances were metal and shined brightly in the natural light provided by the windows. There were a few doors that were closed so you weren’t sure what they all lead to, but you didn’t have time to wonder as your bags were dropped off in the living room.

Your driver handed you a set of keys.

“This is for the cart in the garage so that the two of you can move around the neighborhood freely. If you need a car for anything including bad weather, you can call for one on your pad. As soon as you both get settled, turn the television on and it’ll give you a brief orientation. If you have any questions, your pad will connect you with the service techs.”

Without much of a goodbye, both of the drivers turned to leave. You looked over at Billy who was shaking his head.

“That’s more than my driver said to me,” he said with a laugh.

Then you realized that it was just you and Billy in the house that you would both share for a month. You could see that he was looking at you but you couldn’t meet his eyes. Instead you started towards the closed doors to the side.

The first door led to a garage that had the washer and dryer. It also had a very expensive golf cart that the driver had mentioned. You closed the door and went to the next door. There was a bathroom with a toilet, sink, and standing shower. You opened the next door and saw a bedroom. The bed looked to be a double, everything in muted colors. Your heart started to race as you stared at the bed until you heard Billy call your name. You turned to see that he had opened the door next to the one you were at and showed another bedroom.

Oh thank god.

The last door was another bathroom, this time with a jacuzzi type tub. You made a mental note to take a soak in that at some point. Then you turned back to Billy who was inspecting the different foods in the fridge and pantry.

“So, do you want the left or right bedroom?”

He looked over at you and raised an eyebrow.

“Lady’s choice.”

You smiled and ducked your head down from meeting his eyes. You walked over to the living room and grabbed your bags. He came behind you to pick up the last bag for you. He gestured for you to go first and you led him over to the bedroom that you had opened. You put the bags on the bed and he placed your last bag next to the dresser.

“That’ll be interesting,” he said with a gesture up towards the ceiling.

A skylight. At least it wasn’t a mirror, you thought with a giggle.

“At least it isn’t a mirror,” Billy said with a laugh, echoing your thoughts exactly. Then he pointed towards the door. “I’m going to put my stuff in the other room. Meet in the living room in twenty minutes so we can watch the orientation video?”

You agreed easily and then, after the slightest hesitation from Billy, you were alone. You heaved out a sigh as you started to unpack a bit. There were hangers provided so you hung up the clothes that needed to be hung up. Then you put the rest in the dresser. You had a bag of toiletries but you didn’t touch that just yet. Then you looked around the room and felt your stomach flip.

For a second you’d thought that you’d have to share the bedroom with Billy. That would be one way to figure out compatibility, sure, but it wasn’t something you would have been comfortable with on day one.

Granted he was incredibly attractive. Maybe you’d get over that little hangup before the month ended.

You checked the charger next to the bed and saw it was for the pad. You plugged in one for your phone. Then you opened the drawer next to the bed and almost gasped. Condoms. They actually supplied condoms on the first night? Who slept with a complete stranger the first night they were supposed to live together?

You pushed the box to the back of the drawer and closed it again.

About twenty minutes after the two of you started to get settled in, you moved into the living room. Billy had just gotten there himself. He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and used it to gesture to the couch. Both of you sat down on the far ends, a cushion of space between you. He turned the television on but was saved from figuring out what to do next when the orientation video started up immediately.

A woman welcomed you both to Compatible’s New York neighborhood. She went over the same stuff that was in the packet, but you paid attention just to keep from looking at the man next to you. An overlay of the neighborhood map came up and she pointed out each business and explained that while there were some people that worked there, mostly they were automated since nothing cost money in the neighborhood.

“While you are encouraged to feel free to interact with the other occupants of the neighborhood, we do urge you to remember to spend time with your current match.”

She talked a little bit more about the neighborhood and the house before she held up a pad.

“This is your lifeline here in the neighborhood. A few times a day you’ll get questions, either directly regarding your experience with your current match or just general questions. These will help the system calculate your final compatibility at the end of the month. Remember that you can use your pad to keep in contact with your match if you are doing your own things. Plus it has other functions as well.”

She laid out what each icon did. There was the chatting app which was now lit up on your screen, the app that would pose questions, the app that connected you to the system if you had issues or needed to call a car. There were regular apps like calculator and camera and a calendar that only showed the month you were in.

Then there was an app that didn’t have a name. The icon was just a percentage sign and it hadn’t been on the screen when you first turned it on. It must have synced when you go to the house.

The woman explained that it would list your compatibility with your match, but there was a catch.

“This app can only be accessed on the first day of the month and the last day. It is completely up to each of you if you even want to check the percentage of compatibility, but know that you are more than welcome to. Just remember that it will disappear at midnight of your first night in the house. It comes back at midnight on the last day of the month and is only available until noon when you will be switched over to the next match.”

After a few more details about the neighborhood, including a few gatherings that were open to everyone in the neighborhood like block parties, the woman seemed to wrap up the introduction.

“We hope you have a wonderful stay here. Welcome to Compatible.”

The screen dimmed and then a guide appeared for different movies and shows. Billy had already put the remote down but he didn’t pick it back up yet. Instead he turned to face you and held his pad up.

“Want to check?”

Did you? Would it help to know what percentage you were compatible with this man? Or would that give you both some undue stress for the month?

In the end, curiosity won out. You raised your pad and both of you hovered over the icon. As one you both clicked on your respective pads.

The screen lit up with both of your names and a blank circle in the middle. After a minute a bunch of numbers started to rotate in the middle as if it was some sort of slot machine. Then it slowed and stopped.

83%. You and Billy were 83% compatible.

“Well, I guess that will make this next month easier,” he said in awe as he stared down at the number on the pad.

“Yea, I guess so,” you offered softly. Then you laughed and put your pad down. “It’s weird, isn’t it? I mean, we both know why we’re here. It’s like a semi-permanent tinder date.”

That made Billy laugh, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he did.

“I guess we just gotta get to know each other. That will take away some of the awkwardness.”

You smiled and turned to face him a bit more.

“Okay. Who wants to go first?”

—

By the time you and Billy had come to a comfortable stopping point in getting to know each other, the sun was nearly completely set. The clock on the mantle said it was nearly seven in the evening and since you both had entered the house around noon, that was almost seven hours of talking.

And yet it felt like it had been only thirty minutes. You told Billy so much about your life and in return, he told you about his. What had first been a rather perfunctory exchange of details turned into so much more as you told Billy about an accident you were in as a kid and he told you about growing up in the system. Then came you telling him about an ex that you’d had a bad relationship with and he told you about his time in the Marines. You talked about your parents and your best friend Karen and he told you about the man who became a brother to him in the Marines and how he’d been close to his family before an accident left the man alone.

“I don’t think I’ve ever talked this much on a first date,” Billy said with a grin. Then he laughed as his stomach let out a grumble. “Think we should hit pause and see what we can make for our first dinner here. What do you say?”

He stood up and held his hand out to you to help you up. You didn’t even hesitate before you put your hand in his. He smiled and lifted you up easily, giving you a spin before he ushered you towards the kitchen.

“Any allergies I need to know about? Foods that you don’t like?”

You started to open cabinets to peer into them.

“No allergies, don’t like stuff that’s slimy. That’s basically it for me. What about you?”

Billy grabbed some pasta and a can of tomato sauce. He went around you to the fridge where he pulled out a pack of hamburger meat that was in there.

“No allergies thankfully. As for foods I don’t like, as long as you aren’t trying to feed me MREs, I’ll eat just about anything.”

You smiled as you started to fill a pot with water for the noodles.

“I think we’ll get along just fine then because I love to cook.”

The two of you worked on dinner together, moving around each other easily. When you offered a spoonful of the sauce to him, he smacked his lips a little before he handed you a small container of sugar that he’d found. You agreed and sprinkled a pinch into the sauce. After it simmered a bit, you tasted it again and smiled. It was perfect.

Dinner was the two of you on the couch with a movie in the background. This conversation was lighter, both of you talking about your favorite meals. That led into talking about the worst meals you’d ever made and you had to admit, laughing with Billy was the easiest thing you’d ever done.

After the food was gone and dishes were done, it was nearly ten at night. You didn’t want the night to end, wanted to find more to talk about, and it seemed Billy felt the same because he kept giving you both new topics to talk about. But after you both started to yawn, you knew it was only time before you had to go to sleep.

“Is it weird that I don’t want to stop talking to you?”

You smiled as you propped your head up on your arm to stare at Billy.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” you said with another yawn. He smiled and then nudged your knee with his.

“Alright, we should call it a night. I mean, it’s not like we’re going anywhere anytime soon.”

That was true. You didn’t want the night to end, but the truth was that you had a month of nights like this one. With that in mind, you stood up. When you swayed a bit, Billy reached out to steady you. You laughed and then went around to turn off the lights. The door locked automatically so you didn’t worry about that. You went into your room and grabbed your bag of toiletries. Billy had done the same and headed into the bathroom nearest his room. You went into the bathroom next to your bedroom, the one with the standing shower. You brushed your teeth and washed your face. Then you left your bag on the sink to unpack in the morning.

Out of the bathroom, you saw Billy hovering a bit near his door. You walked over to him and smiled, tired but content. He laughed and held his hand out to you.

“Goodnight,” he said, your name on his lips soft and sweet.

“Goodnight Billy,” you repeated with a soft smile as you shook his hand.

In your room with the door shut, you changed into some pajamas and quickly slipped under the covers. You stared up through the skylight at the stars. With the neighborhood so far from the city lights, the sky was clear and the stars were bright. You yawned, your body stretching languidly under the covers. Beside your bed was your phone. You texted Karen to let her know you were there safe, apologizing for not letting her know earlier. You also told her you’d tell her more in the morning.

Then you reached out for your pad that you’d placed on the bedside charger. There was a notification on one of the apps so you opened it up. It was a question from the Compatible app.

What was your first impression of your match?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long moment before you typed something out.

I was impressed. He seems like a great guy and I think we have a lot in common. I look forward to our month together.

On the main screen, you looked at the percentage app just in time for it to go dark. The screen said it had just turned midnight so it was inaccessible. Not that you needed to open it again to remember what the percentage had been.

If this was 83% compatible, you had to think you’d never been more than maybe 50% compatible with any of your exes. Because this? This was unlike anything you’d ever felt before and it had only been twelve hours.

—

You woke to a chime that didn’t sound like your phone. You looked at the charging dock and saw that your pad was lit up. You pulled it off and tapped on an icon that was blinking. It was the messenger app.

Billy: Went for a run. Didn’t want you to wake up and think I disappeared.

A grin was on your lips before you had finished reading. The pad said it was seven in the morning and while you normally would be grumpy that you’d been woken before work, you remembered that you technically can work whenever you want now. And also because of how you were woken up.

You: Have a good run. I’m still asleep.

With the pad on your bed, you grabbed your cell phone. Messages from your parents asking how things were going were replied to with fairly generic responses. An inquiring text from Karen right after she would have woken up was responded to quickly as you told her that your first match was, seemingly, a great guy and things were going very well.

After that was sent, you heard the chime again. You picked up your pad and laughed when you saw what Billy had said this time.

Billy: Your spelling is pretty good for someone that’s asleep.

Was he texting while running? You laughed and tucked your face into your pillow to avoid the nerves that came from that image. Then you got up and stretched. With some clothes in hand, you went to the bathroom you had claimed as yours.

The water pressure was pretty great. You set out your things after you washed up and went about your usual morning routine. You tried not to think about Billy and instead just focused on what you were doing.

Showered, dressed, and prepped for the day, you deposited your night clothes into the hamper with your clothes from the day before. You checked your pad for another message but there wasn’t one. Then you checked your phone which had a text from Karen telling you to give her the deets as soon as you could.

Instead of replying, you went into the kitchen. Billy’s bedroom door was open and so was the bathroom, so he still wasn’t home. You went into the kitchen and started to get out the things you’d need to make breakfast. While you did that, you went over to the speakers and plugged your phone in. You shuffled your music until you found something you wanted to listen to and turned it up just loud enough to make you dance a bit while you cooked.

Just as you were putting the food onto the breakfast bar, the front door opened. Billy looked up and blinked at the sight of you buttering pancakes and putting down diced fruit. He smiled at you as he raised the hem of his shirt to wipe his face, giving you a look at his abs and chest.

You were just glad you didn’t drop the dish you were holding. Instead you cleared your throat and pointed at the other bathroom.

“Go take a shower, I’ll make sure everything stays warm for you.”

He came in and grabbed a piece of cantaloupe. He popped it between his lips and smiled at you as he bit down on it.

“Looks like you weren’t as asleep as you made me believe,” he joked as he went around the table to go into the bathroom.

You didn’t even think about the fact that he didn’t have clothes with him until about fifteen minutes later when he came out with a towel around his waist. He looked a little sheepish as he grinned at you again before he disappeared into his bedroom to change.

You discretely fanned yourself and then chuckled. It was somehow awkward and yet comfortable between the two of you. You could only imagine how it’d be in a few weeks of living together.

—

The days started to melt together. You’d wake up to a message from Billy telling you he was going for a run and you’d shower and start breakfast. Then the two of you would get on your laptops and work. You did editing for a newspaper and he ran his own security firm. Sometimes you’d call or video chat with Karen or your parents. Sometimes you heard him talking to someone on the phone in the other room, either employees or the friend that he mentioned sometimes.

Lunch wasn’t always spent together, but sometimes you both took time from work to eat together. And even when you were working, the two of you often ended up talking as well.

Dinner was a different affair. Most days the two of you cooked, but sometimes you’d go out to one of the many restaurants in the neighborhood. Either way, you and Billy would often talk for hours after the meal was done.

The first block party was at the beginning of the second week. The setup was near the pond and bridge that was on the other side of the neighborhood. You saw some people traveling in the carts but you and Billy just walked.

There were a lot of people, but that made sense. There were 36 people in the neighborhood. A few introduced themselves to you both, friendly conversations sparking up here and there as music played from somewhere and food was dished out from various sources.

You noticed quite a few of the women eyeing Billy as the two of you made your way around the group. For his part, Billy didn’t seem to notice any of them. If they got a little too friendly or bold while talking to him, he always either directed the conversation to you or would gesture for the two of you to walk away. You got a feeling that while he knew what he looked like and probably had used it to his advantage before, he wasn’t actively trying.

One thing you did notice was that any time one of the guys in the neighborhood sent a little too much attention to you, Billy would put his hand on your arm or over your shoulders and guide you to something that you just ‘had to see’ on the other side of the block.

On the way back to the house, you bumped shoulders with Billy a few times as you talked about a party your parents had thrown that had gotten shut down by the cops, both of you laughing as you described your dad standing in the driveway with half an eyebrow and the burnt out firework in his hand. Then Billy bumped into your shoulder before the back of his hand brushed against yours.

You peered up at him and then back down quickly as you switched to explaining your mom’s reaction to her prized zucchini being eaten by a goat that someone had brought.

“She was so–” your words trailed off as Billy’s fingers wrapped around yours. Then you smiled and continued, “She was so angry she didn’t speak to dad for two days. Which is probably the longest they have ever gone without speaking.”

The rest of the walk was spent with Billy asking follow up questions as the two of you held hands.

—

The crash of thunder made you sit upright. Lightning flashed through your room, the skylight magnifying everything. You hadn’t heard the storm roll in, but it seemed like it had settled right over your neighborhood. You started to lean back in bed, but another crack of thunder made you squeal and jump.

A moment later, your pad chimed.

Billy: Are you okay? I thought I heard a noise.

You grabbed it with shaking hands to respond.

You: Surprised you could hear anything over this storm. Yea, just got scared and maybe squealed like a little girl.

A few minutes later there was a knock at your door. You blinked a few times before another crack of thunder made you jump up. You opened the door and peered out. Lightning lit up Billy who stood on the other side of the door, his pad in hand.

“Thought you might like some company?”

You laughed a little nervously and opened the door wider. Maybe you should have joined him in the living room, a neutral place, but right then you just wanted him to come inside the room. He did, shutting the door behind him. Then he led you over to the bed. While you got in, he pulled the curtains over the window in your room.

A brief hesitation came over him as he came to the bed but you just lifted up the covers and ushered him in. He slid in right beside you. You put your pad back on the charger and he placed his on the table on his side. He then laid down on his side so he could face you. You propped your head up and faced him.

“Feeling a little embarrassed. I should be too old to be scared of storms.”

He shook his head. His freehand came up and brushed against your shoulder. Then his fingers moved down the length of your arm to your hand. You easily wrapped your fingers around his.

“Let me tell you about this time in high school when I stole the principal’s car. He’d tried to have me suspended a few times and I was holding a grudge.”

Billy’s voice didn’t completely drown out the storm, but you found that it didn’t matter. When he was speaking, you couldn’t hear anything else.

—

Not every night, but a few nights a week you’d get a message about twenty or so minutes after both you and Billy had gone to bed. It would be just a question mark. The first time it’d happened, you’d gone to his room to ask if everything was okay. It ended with you in bed with him, mirroring each other as you both talked until one or both of you fell asleep. Since then, he’d send the question mark and either you’d go to his room or you’d reply with an exclamation mark and he’d come to your room.

Neither of you put it to words, but for you, you just liked having someone to talk to in your most vulnerable moment before sleep. And falling asleep next to someone was soothing for you. Of course that made you remember the first day when you’d seen the double bed and had been almost scared at the thought of sleeping next to a stranger.

Except Billy wasn’t a stranger anymore.

And it seemed he felt the same way.

—

Billy had been terse all day. You tried to give him his space, but there was only so far that you could in the small house. So you went out to the backyard. You had your pad with you, but you pulled your phone out instead.

Karen’s face lit up the screen a few moments later when she accepted the video call. She smiled and started to say something, but she hesitated when she saw your face.

“What’s wrong?”

You shrugged and looked past your phone to the back of the house.

“I don’t know. Billy seems...I’m not sure. Something just seems wrong.”

“Well people have bad days. You can’t expect someone to be happy all the time, can you?”

No, and you didn’t. You were living in each other’s back pockets so yea, you’d both seen each other’s moods change. But this seemed to come out of nowhere.

“You said he had a stressful job, right? Maybe it has something to do with that.”

Which was a good point, except…he hadn’t been on his laptop or his cell phone when you noticed the change. He had been on his pad fiddling with something and then…then he just changed. You relayed this to Karen and she made a thoughtful noise.

“Maybe it was one of the questions? Have you checked yours today?”

You had and the question was about movie choices. You and Billy had compared and found out that most of the questions were the same for both of you, but not always. It was possible his question was different, but usually general ones like this were the same.

“And there’s nothing else on those things, right? Not like social media or email?”

You shook your head as you turned your pad over.

“No, nothing like that. There’s the service app, the chatting app, the question app. And then the stuff that’s normal, calculator and camera and calendar.”

Your finger had hovered over each app as you said them, but you accidentally touched the calendar app. It opened up and you looked down to see that there were only three more days of the month.

Time had flown by so fast that you hadn’t realized the month was already ending. Three days and then you’d need to be out of this house and into a car so it could be cleaned. You’d be shuttled to the next house where you’d meet your next match.

You heard your name softly from your phone and you looked up to see that Karen was watching you. Her eyes showed sympathy.

“The month is almost over.”

You swallowed and looked back down at the calendar. It had notes that you’d made throughout the month about dinner plans or things you needed to get from the store. And now just three days until the end of the month.

“Yea, but that’s…that’s the point of Compatible. One month with each match.”

“And who knows, maybe your next match will be someone you feel even more connected to.”

You thought about that and felt your stomach turn. Something told you that it would be hard to find anyone that you felt more connected to than Billy.

“Yea, maybe,” you said instead.

—

A hand brushed against your cheek. You wrinkled your nose but didn’t bat the hand away. It came again, tweaking at your nose. Your eyes sprang open and you found yourself staring at a smiling Billy. Except the smile looked…sad.

You turned your head to look at the pad next to your bed. It functioned as an alarm clock and right then it said it was seven in the morning.

“Going for a run?” you asked softly as you turned to look back at Billy. The two of you had been up until almost three talking last night so you couldn’t imagine how he’d go for a run, but he ran almost every morning.

“No, not this morning.”

There was something in his voice and it took you a moment to realize what he meant. Not this morning because this was it. The month end. The two of you had until 11:30 to get your stuff packed and ready to be picked up. At noon exactly, you’d get into a car and be shuttled to your next match.

You had packed the night before except for the clothes you were going to change into. Those were on your dresser waiting for you.

“I wanna check,” he said as he grabbed his pad.

He didn’t specify what he wanted to check but you didn’t need him to. You knew just what he meant right then. He wanted to check the percentage of your compatibility. It was 83% to start with, but what was it now?

You rolled over and grabbed your pad. Then you rolled back to him. You both navigated to the now lit up percentage icon. As one, you each tapped on the icon.

Your names appeared and the slot machine began to spin. And moments later it settled.

89%. You’d gone up six percent in the last month. You felt something dip low in your stomach as you stared at the number. It didn’t seem like enough, not for everything the two of you had gone through in the last month. It should have gone up ten percent, twenty percent. The spinning should have exploded because the two of you were the most compatible match ever and this was it, the two of you could just leave because you’d already found your perfect match.

But that wasn’t how it worked. You sighed and looked up to find that Billy was already looking at you.

“It’s been a great month.”

You swallowed as you noticed that his eyes darted down to your lips when you spoke. He swayed a bit, almost like he was going to…

Then he pulled back. A moment later he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of your bed.

“It was a good month. Just eleven more, right?”

And with that, he got up and walked out of your room. You started to call out to him, but you stopped yourself as you realized you didn’t really have anything to say. He was right, eleven more. It was obvious the two of you had become close, but this was a year long thing.

Who knows, maybe at the end of the year Billy would be your best match. Maybe you’d get another week with him in a remote place. Maybe…

You got up and grabbed your clothes. You were going to take a shower and get ready.Then you’d make breakfast for the two of you for the last time.

—

When you stepped out of the shower, the house felt…different. Billy wasn’t anywhere to be seen. You grabbed your pad and checked but there weren’t any messages. You poked your head in Billy’s room and saw that the closet was open. Open and empty. The pieces of him that were usually in there, his laptop and watch and phone, were gone. You rushed to his bathroom but it was empty as well.

You went to the front door and opened it up in time to see a black car back out of the driveway. You wrapped an arm around your stomach as you watched it drive off to the right, disappearing around the turn.

He left without saying goodbye.

Thank you for reading part one!

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #my writing

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phoenixyfriend · 1 year

Note

OK, going through the GG posts on your blog, one of them mentioned you had a thing about othar/anevka, can we hear more about that?

I have some truly insane feelings about this crackship, it's A Lot.

They do not meet in canon. To the best of my knowledge, they've never even been in the same city in canon. I don't even have the ship happening while she's still alive, for pity's sake, but...

This ship started out as a joke. We were talking about a GG/Danny Phantom crossover on discord and I threw in fake-married Otharnevka (him gay, her a dead robot lady), where the ongoing joke was their fake relationship being goals for everyone, because she'd like... ask him to help her reach a high shelf, and instead of just grabbing the thing for her, he'd lift her up onto his shoulder to do it herself, and bow to kiss her hand, that sort of thing.

Except canon Othar isn't gay (the twitter story is canon enough that we can assume he likes women), so the next time it came up, it was less of a joke. And just. I kept getting invested?

He is a hero! She needed a hero, but never got one. She is the mad scientist's beautiful daughter, but she's the mad scientist herself too, except she's not a spark anymore, but she's still a sadist. He thinks he can help her be not-evil. She thinks she can corrupt him. He dotes on her and is an absolute gentleman without ever actually underestimating or coddling her. She's so ready to kill, and he might be a hero but he's fucking unhinged so it's not like always stops her! He's strong enough to carry and lift her 900kg body and make it look easy. He's ready and willing to stand around looking pretty while she politics, and she takes pleasure in pretending to be a damsel for him to save, especially if it ends with his shirt ripped up.

Othar: I can fix her! Anevka, in a condescending voice: Don't you want to help me kill this awful, evil spark? Othar: ...well, maybe a little murder. (Tarvek, who does not want to be here: This is not how you fix a person. I should know, Agatha fixed me.)

He's annoying, but she doesn't have to be around him when he's annoying. She's pretty well-made to just tune him out, even, and even that is rare; it's so much more fun to pat him on the arm and say 'that's nice, dear' when he's having a Heroic Monologue Moment, and then swan off to poison someone while he tries to recruit himself a new sidekick.

I just. They give me dopamine. They're awful, but not actually The Worst by GG standards. Even Anevka's mostly just Traumatically Dramatic and could probably be aimed at problems once she's got a bit of distance from the Aaronev situation.

Here, have a few Otharnevka posts:

Professor Storm (crossover fic on Ao3)

Otharnevka art from @dirigibird

The “Momma Sturmvoraus was Literally Satan” AU

The MILFnevka AU

The short of it

Just me having some emotions

Married Life Meme

Baby Outlaw

Draw Your Ship As

#girl genius #otharnevka #othar tryggvassen #anevka sturmvoraus #phoenix answers asks

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 2 months

Text

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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mushroom-trafficking · 2 months

Note

bing bong ask meme tell me about them please

Benji 1, 18, 39

Max 2, 12, 23

Archie 13, 17, 28

Putting this one under a cut!

Benji:

1. What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

“Rarely is there truly ever nothing to do. There is always something I can busy myself with. The only thing I dislike more than boredom is wasted time. Any time not utilised is time wasted. I can barely withstand five minutes without engaging in something.”

18. What embarrasses them?

“Oh. Wouldn’t you like to know.”

It actually takes quite a lot to embarrass him. Usually he’s the one embarrassing others because of this. It took him long enough to get over embarrassment to just wear the clothes he enjoys so he tried to not let anything get in the way of what he enjoys. The worst thing you can do however is be direct with him, he’s very flowery and indirect about things if you get what I mean. Calling him out on his bullshit works wonders too.

39. How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people?

“Name me someone who isn’t flawed! We’re all just trying to get by and do what we can, hard to be perfect when around every corner is someone trying to ruin your day.”

The answer is INCREDIBLY easily. He’s no saint himself. He’ll readily ignore quite glaring issues if you help him with whatever it is he wants done. Besides openly flawed people have no right to judge when they’re also working with a flawed idiot.

Max:

2. How easy is it for your character to laugh?

“Eh, not a lot of people are actually that funny.”

Max tends to steer towards dark humour as a coping thing, but not a lot of people find that shit funny. He rarely lets down his guard enough to enjoy the humour of those around him. It’s usually something really daft will get him going. Ya’know like when you send your Dad a funny animal video and he’s crying with laughter when it’s not really that funny? That kinda thing. Once you find that niche you’re in.

12. How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?

“Sometimes if I’m lucky the mutt can sort it out, but not always. I gotta be careful on account o’ the whole, ya’know, claw situation. I shredded a shirt once trying to get to a spot on my back. Not my… Proudest moment.”

Max’s death is able to touch him at times, not constantly, but enough. Sometimes he gets lucky and it can sort it out for him! Personal back scratcher! Though if that won’t work he sometimes just fucking rolls around like a damn dog if no one else is around. Catch him rubbing himself on a tree like a bear and watch him run faster than you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

23. How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)?

“I’ve started tryin’ to just go after the shit I want. I’ve spent long enough not getting what I want from life I think I’m deservin’ of shit finally going my way for a change.”

Envy itself isn’t something Max struggles with often. He’s a former rich kid so he knows how the other half have lived and he’s pretty much over it at this point. Though he is incredibly resentful overall, he’s got a lot of unlearn and get over.

Archie:

13. What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

“Oh, uh. Hmmmm. BEST? Oh man, that’s hard. I like most colours pretty equally… It’s so hard to pick a favourite… My Ma always said I look good in white… But I think everyone looks good in white! It’s WHITE! Hm. I think. I think it’s gotta be between turquoise or burgundy! But I don’t have much of either at the moment sadly…”

Archie hasn’t really been allowed to explore his options much fashion wise. But now he’s loose on the town there’s nothing stopping him from trying out new styles! He does struggle with picking a favourite colour though, his ideal thing to wear would be one of those colour block jumpers where each part is a different, bright colour.

17. Are they easily embarrassed?

“N…No… (10 second pause) Okay. Yes. I never used to get this flustered back home but out here in the dust it’s… A bit more. Intimidating. I know the wings are a lot but c’mon!! Quit staring!!”

The youngest of three Archie actually had a pretty thick skin back home. Especially being of demonic descent, people get pretty judgy. But that quickly faded getting out into the real world. With any luck he’ll build it back up over time once he’s a bit more used to it out in Red West.

28. Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth?

“The truth is ALWAYS the best option!!”

Dealing with the ramifications of certain withheld truths, Archie wants nothing but the honest truth. Even if it hurts. Though it’s quickly becoming apparent that the truth is not something post people enjoy sharing around here. Archie only believes in lying for the bit.

#benji #max #archie #oc ask meme #ask #my art

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dribs-and-drabbles · 7 months

Text

Observations on ep 11:

I missed some details last week, so I'm going to try to be more observant today...let's see how I go.

Move on? 😦 Move in?! 😲

Loving the YOLO shirt 😂 I know it's the name of the bar but still...

YO SPITTING TRUTHS 😂😭 "I think my chances of winning the first prize lottery are greater than having an ideal boyfriend". I feel so called out...

Has anyone mentioned the iconic couple shirts that Yo and Plug are wearing in the credits?!

Also, I need more April in the show. (And hello, Nonnie's tattoo!)

Yeah, I stand by what I said to @grapejuicegay in our dms -> Mew does not love Top anymore. If he thinks he does it's more that he's in love with the potential of what they had...but that's all but destroyed. Mew (and Top...and Boeing tbf) need to move on (Ah! The ep title!), I bet they won't though.

I need Dan to be happy... Where's Poppy? I need him to come in and sweep Dan off his feet.

Hello Meen! 🔥 She's gorgeous and so young. Oh oh! Dan could meet her and have a noona romance!

Khaotung Thanawat what the fuck is your face (I will forever think this when he cries, thanks kk!)

Sorry to lay down some facts but you can't guarantee that anyone will stay with you after 3 months, 6 months, or a year. It doesn't matter what you've been through together, this is something you can never predict. And so that can't be the reason for not being with someone - and this goes for Yo as well as Boeing/Mew, because Yo was afraid that Plug wouldn't stick around.

And therefore, that's the correct question Mew - "Can I trust you, Boeing?" And it's not really about trust. It's about making a choice every day to be with that person regardless of what the future might hold.

Boston, Nick, and that random extra basically did that meme 😂

ANOTHER ONE FOR THE KISSING CHARTS!!

But also, I'm loving flirtatious confident sexy Nick. Such a development from when he met Boston.

MVP NICK!!

Oh so many parallels are paralleling this ep. Boston telling Atom he can't fall in love 'just because he's the first man he slept with'...which is what Nick realises he did... Oh DELICIOUS.

I'm glad we got an explicit 'no one person can turn you gay, it's just who you are and always have been'. A+ show, A+.

Poor Atom, but I think he got enough comeuppance. Well done Nick, really.

Sand is cute with the kids but I have to just say this kind of teasing/fabricated truths messed me up as a kid. Why can we just say what really happens rather than make up a lie to make kids do what they should do? Maybe I was too impressionable (or gullible) but I used to freak out at anything that could have been bad for me if someone told me it was 'dangerous'. Anyway, back to the show...

Top what are you doing there?! You've not been invi-

IS. THAT. THE. STRIPY. LININ. SHIRT?!

Hold on.... *wheezing* I can't... I... That's nine people now, NINE, who have worn this shirt. And how has no one tagged me about it yet?!

Wait no, I'm not over it yet. I can't believe that fucking shirt has shown up again. I can't deal with it.

Yes, Top, yes I do... Because it means Top and Mew have matching couple shirts...much like Kawi and Pisaeng. smh

Ok, back to the show proper. Mew, you know you have not given Top a chance. And he's right to walk away.

What is Boeing's agenda??

Ok, I see you black and white vests...with the heart of the bed frame between you...

Yes, Force. That's what I want to see. Love the vulnerability.

If I had a nickel and all that... Another couple talking about travelling the world together.

Oh I have totally seen this t-shirt before. But dammit I don't recall where. HIVE MIND ASSEMBLE!

(And now I'm questioning if I've seen Nick's shirt somewhere as well... I take back what I said earlier, I want to be less observant).

Look, I've moved in with partners two times in my life with the main reason being 'it'll be cheaper/I'll save on the rent' and I can categorically say that I don't think its a good idea. MEW, DON'T. Move in because you want to, not because it's cheaper.

What in the Mew/Top/Boeing storyline is happening with the Ray/Sand/Boeing plot?! More parallels. Boeing is like the little leprechaun who wheedles his way into other people's relationships, casting a magic spell on one to stir shit up for the other.

Why is Ray doing this? Why is he so jealous? And did he just drink alcohol even though he's in rehab? Oh! Is he finally going to get the threesome he's been asking for?! 😂

Well...going by the preview for ep 12, I don't think so. But his jealousy escalated worryingly quick 🤔

Even though not as brilliant as last week, this show is still fantastic. However, I just can't get over how the Thai Communal Wardrobe is upstaging everything for me 😂

#only friends #only friends the series #ofts #ofts ep 11 #I'm still wheezing #THAT STRIPY LININ SHIRT THOUGH #what brand is it?!#the shirts are either dirt cheap #or the company paid big bucks for it to be used so much #sorry to keep going on about it I guess...#but blame the production companies not me #khaotung thanawat what the fuck is your face

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random-meme-bot · 3 months

Note

WE WANT SOME FUN FACTS ABOUT OUR QUEEN ELLY >:DD

Thanks for the ask, glad to see you're enjoying my characters.💜

A few random Fun facts about Elly, some of these were mentioned on a few tags, others are one's I came up with and never posted, there's even some that I was gonna reveal on a one shot crossover with Tangle Tower i'm making that I added here because I don't know when I'm gonna have time to finish it.

Elly is a trans, she named hershelf Elishabeth as a reference to Pirates of the Caribbean. (Which yes, is actually where I got the name.

Fun behind the scenes fact: The name I originally choose for her was "Elaine" in reference to Monkey Island, but I changed it because "Elly" didn't sound quite right as a diminutive of "Elaine".

While her design and overall idea, has changed quite a bit since her original drawin, her design is inspired by "Jenny LeClue"

Her glasses being completely opaque except for the pupils are to reference how she is a middle ground between alive people who I always draw as just pupils, and ghosts who also have eyes.)

She is also aro/ace and absolutly terrible at noticing when someone has a crush on her.

She once woke up in the middle of the night only to find Trucy staring directly at her, since then she always make sure to sleep facing the wall...

While not shown in any drawings due to the long hair, she does have piercings on the ears.

She loves coffee, this is a byproduct of her always staying up longer than she should.

She sometimes falls asleep while working on the bookstore, Dan will usually just posses her to take care of the customers and leave her notes about it.

She has more than once used her ability to see ghost by asking some ghost roaming the school to give her the answers to an exam she hadn't studied for (some people ghosts would do anything just to get acknowledgement from a living person...)

She loves Jazz music and any song with trumpets, saxophone, trombone... (I have a drawing I want to make of her as the "jazz for your soul" meme)

Not gonna give any context just jet, but she does go to a psychologist.

She dosen't like the scar she got from the car accident that gave her the ability to see ghost which is why she dosen't own any clothing that would reveal the abdomen (short shirts, most swimsuits...)

Despite the fact that she isn't usually at home and when she is she stays in her room, she does have a good relationship with her parents.

Despite the fact that it has been years, she still misses her old house.

She is friends with some ghosts that roam around the school, this has resulted in every alive person in the school thinking she talks to hershelf.

Despite On account of her ability to see ghosts, she has a big fear of corpses.

She can handle pressure, but she will hyperventilate when she starts to get too overwhelmed, Dan is helping her so she can deal with it if it happens.

Her hair is uncombable, it dosen't matter what she tries it always goes back to it's messy form.

Favorite station is Autumn.

Favorite color is Purple.

#Ask #Hexes on the Shelves #HotS #Elly HotS #Elisabeth Roberts #Elly Roberts

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lunarsun12 · 1 month

Text

Stray Kids Family Profile

Back to Navigation 🌿

✧𝑷𝒂𝒑𝒂 - 𝑩𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏✧

- Married to Lee Know (more on accident)

- Dad of the family

- Always Keep Lee Know in check, he has to restrain him due to the incident at I.N elementary school. Where he got in fight with a parent for calling his baby ugly

- The clockwork to this household, without Chan around. The house is mess or the kids ends up crying due to Lee Know punishments

- He has many idols friends, that even himself lost count but he always go with the flow. To avoid the other person being upset with him

✧𝑴𝒂𝒎𝒂 - 𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑲𝒏𝒐𝒘✧

- Married to Chan (Also an accident)

- Dedicated Cat Dad, he has three cats if anyone miss their schedule. They will have to pay the price and that person was Changbin. He overslept as at the time he was sharing with Hyunjin

- Super protective over Felix and I.N, he always claims that someone is trying to steal them. (It is mainly Felix, as he is so loveable everyone wants to take him home)

- Have bit of anger issue, super scary when someone makes any of kids cry (he once barged into Ateez Dorm with a knife, when wooyoung kidnapped Felix)

- Claims, he doesn’t use the rest of the kids who lives with them as slaves excluding Felix and IN. As one time Hyunjin accidentally let it slipped that Lee Know never does the washing up

- He once made it onto the national geographic channel. Till this day he is confused how he got on there

✧𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑪𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅 - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒃𝒊𝒏✧

- Before Chan got married he used to live with him and Han. They call themselves the 3racha

- When he got into adulthood, he moved as soon as possible. He hates to be around so many people

- Claims he is cool, but no one takes him seriously more like the opposite. People loves to clown him and even made a meme out him (it was seungmin who is responsible for princess binnie meme)

- What ever you do, never ever touches Binnie food. He will scream and fight anyone who laid their finger on his babies

- Loves to annoy his siblings and see their misfortunes as it is always him. Who gets to the unfortunate event

✧𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝑪𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅 - 𝑯𝒂𝒏✧

- Sibling with Binnie

- Super hyper active, he loves to erm express himself with lots of strange noises. Which hyunjin has to tell Han to be quiet as he was making frog noises at 1am

- He hates to be locked up, poor Chan has his reason for locking him up. As he causes so much trouble when he is outside

- It took him a while to warm up to the new addition / Eomma to the household. He wouldn’t leave his room for a month until Chan has to bribe him

- He has this thing with new people coming over, one time BamBam was coming over to visit Chan. Poor BamBam was getting interrogated by Han, why he his here

- Shhh but don’t tell anyone, he is trying make his debut with Binnie and Chan as 3racha

✧𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅 - 𝑯𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒋𝒊𝒏✧

- He was the first to get adopted, he made a huge scene at the orphanage so he get adopted

- He loves his fashion and loves the expensive kind (Lee Know has too hide his bank cards as somehow he always manage to find it)

- Protective of I.N he always protect them if anyone makes fun of I.N at school

- Loves the drama, if there is drama involving his siblings he will get front row seat

- Did I mention, he is also the drama queen. Once Han accidentally made a tiny hole in his shirt, he screamed and acted like his life about to end

✧𝑭𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝑪𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅 - 𝑭𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒙✧

- Sunshine child

- Everyone loves him, who sets eyes on him. One time he was just chilling waiting for the bus to school. Jaemin from NCT took a liking to him and kidnapped Felix

- One of the innocent child, always helpful around the house and solving his sibling problems with a smile

- He also a known as the cuddle bug, he loves to cuddle his sibling when they feel blue

- Loves to bake especially his brownies. When he makes brownies, his siblings and parents lining to get the first piece

✧𝑭𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒉 𝑪𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅 - 𝑺𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒎𝒊𝒏✧

- The quiet child, doesn’t like to talk to strangers as he saw how Felix went. He is determined strangers are dangerous

- Loves to bully Binnie

- Also another child, who is smart he basically got into university a year early as he finished with course the grade above him

- Despite his quiet nature, he has his sass side when someone annoys him and always managed to expose a secret to whoever annoyed him. As his revenge

- Oh ho, despite his calm nature on the outside. He has werid side, once Hyunjin caught him and Han were doing some strange dance. To help clear the bad spirits

✧𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒂𝒃𝒚 - 𝑰.𝑵✧

- Known as Baby Bread

- Everyone in the family adores him! Even Lee Know can get soft on him

- He sticks to Felix like glue, as he finds rest of siblings either too werid or scary

- He also a savage, let’s say someone *coughs* Binnie was teasing him too much. I.N immediately said Binnie stole Felix las piece of brownie

- The rest of the family are in huge debate who is I.N favourite family member. Every time they asked him that, I.N replied everyone with his eye smile which no one believed him

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rpmemesbyarat · 11 months

Text

RP Meme from Reddit 5/30/2023 - 6/3/2023

“I don't know why I bothered getting a degree and a stupid job when someone could have just told me that I could be a professional sheep thrower instead.” “Quick! Somebody get the patent for a sheep launcher!” “I smoked for years, took a break, smoked a blunt and went into full blown psychosis.” “I think the "extremely conscious of myself" is fundamentally the problem.” “It will be a life long lesson for this theft.” “Definitely don’t steal the whole damn plant.” “This was not mildly infuriating, this was fully infuriating.” “Have you never had shark flavoured ice cream?! It’s the best flavour!” “Customers are awful.” “Poor old grumpy.” “Stupid guy in a stupid shirt making anyone around him miserable.” “Our choices are the keys of our success or failure.” “That was true compassion.” “One of the greatest scourges of the modern age is people with the confidence of God and no reason to have it.” “Why would someone feel the need to treat someone this way?!” “Sometimes you have to do bad things to bring out a good outcome” “And who gives a fuck about the babies?” “Oh you were emotionally attached to this one swan?” “Poop into the drain to teach it a lesson.” “Get use to it because society truly doesn’t give a shit about anyone” “Society cares about class over absolutely everything else.” “Society only cares about the rich” “Why aren't men looking out for other men?” “Such a punchable face.” “Thought it was a fucked up pig for a minute” “That’s well over half a pound of pure sugar.” "If it's vertical, people will climb it. If it's horizontal, people will fuck on it." “Male angler fish are born just to find a female, bite her, then fuse with her body to become her sperm sack for whenever she decides she wants babies.” “Is there a reason why so many male animals look so fancy?” “Men likely wore makeup long before women did. War paint and other customs that have been traditionally exercised by men in various cultures are forms of makeup and are as old as recorded human history.” “For good portions of history, men wore more flamboyant clothing, makeup and heels. Heels and makeup later became more a woman’s thing within the last two centuries.” “Not weird just stupid and pointless. And terrible of course.” “If men wore makeup women couldn't compete.” “There's nothing stopping men from being fabulous too” “How does anyone know what animals see as attractive in humans?” ““Pee on him to assert dominance“

“COME GET YOUR FUCKING KID RIGHT NOW” “So instead of saying something about it...you just took a picture?” “Who records themselves sleeping?” “Cats seem like awful pets” “It just looks a little too pristine ya know?” “Do you want mummies?! This is how you get mummies!” “They threw it out in the ocean because of an unstoppable demonic curse it bore.”

“A fashionable pirate would have had a matching eye patch and little treasure chest earrings.” “I can tell you for sure, this is not the solution for water shortage” “Twice the pleasure? Double the fun?” “Double the fun, or double trouble?” “I think putting hot people in anything is always going to look good.” “If it’s any consolation, modern clothing doesn’t look good on fat old dudes either.” “All I got from this is that if you're good looking, you can wear whatever the fuck you want.”

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #roleplay starter #rp starters #reddit

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hermannsthumb · 2 years

Note

For the autumn fic meme can you do number 7? (maybe Newt trying to be brave and failing miserably? >:3)

7. scary movies

from autumn fic prompts here

WHEW i've had an exhausting few weeks but things are finally calming down and i can devote time back to my beloved little dudes again. i have a longer fic i'm working on for spooky season but it's also HALLOWEEN PROMPT FILL SEASON once more!! here's an old old one I never got around to filling

--------------------------------------------------

"I am not," Hermann says, "as easy as you seem to think I am."

Newt's not sure what's more disconcerting here: hearing someone outside of, like, 1950 refer to themselves as easy, or Hermann apparently worrying that Newt might apply that word to him, in the lust-inspiring glory of his sweatervest, baggy wool slacks, stiff collar, daintily crossed ankles, the twelve inches he's left between them, and the full-body shudder of displeasure he gives whenever Newt makes the mistake of looking in his direction. And worrying about it so bad he had to reach over and pause the movie to make sure Newt had his full attention before making the declaration. Yeah, easy, that's sooo Hermann. He wouldn't even take off his shoes before he got on Newt's bed, because it would've been quote-unquote too intimate. What a harlot.

"I literally have no idea what you're talking about," Newt says. "Am I missing some, like, signals? Is this some sort of Gottlieb mating ritual?" The only thing Hermann has done all night is snap at Newt for burning their popcorn in the microwave (among a host of other offenses, ranging from breathing too loudly to keeping the brightness on his computer too high). Newt thinks he would've noticed if Hermann was suddenly fluttering his eyelashes or taking off his shirt or something. Actually, if Hermann considers picking fights easy behavior, then Newt suddenly has a whole lot of their relationship to reassess here. As in, all of it. Maybe arguing is part of the complex intricacies of Gottliebian mating rituals, the rest of which involve unstylish haircuts and submitting HR complaints. Newt should pay closer attention to these sorts of things.

"No," Hermann snaps. "I am referring to your invitation, which was clearly a pitiful attempt to seduce me, and my subsequent acceptance thereof, which was against my best judgement and that I began to regret almost immediately." He folds his arms across his chest and scowls at Newt. It's not as intimidating as he clearly hopes it'll be, because there's a decent amount of burnt popcorn crumbs clinging to the front of his sweater, and his glasses are crooked.

"I'm not trying to do anything but watch a movie, dude," Newt says.

"Oh, yes, for now," Hermann says. "But soon enough you'll be so terribly frightened that you'll need to turn to me for comfort, and then one thing will lead to another, and then—" He shakes his head darkly. "I can assure you now that will not be happening, despite any efforts to the contrary. Feign your fear all you wish."

That's the problem with trying to be anything but a mortal enemy to Hermann—the guy's always gotta act like Newt has some sort of dark, mysterious, ulterior motive going on. Cups of tea always have to be deliberately brewed too bitterly with too much milk (instead of just, y'know, the shop Newt went to messed up his order), invitations for excursions into the city or late night talks on the Shatterdome roof are trying too hard to make up for whatever Newt's crime against him of the week is. Hermann can never just accept kindnesses from Newt at face value. Technically, Newt supposes he did have a slight ulterior motive in inviting Hermann over for spooky movie night tonight that verged beyond selflessly giving Hermann a social life into self-serving, but he's been literally upfront about it from the start. And it has nothing to do with getting a hand under Hermann's four layers, thank you. "I want to watch this new movie," he said earlier in the lab, while Hermann eyed him suspiciously, "but it's supposed to be scary as shit, so I don't want to do it alone." If it gives him nightmares, then at least he'll have someone to commiserate with.

Newt's not sure whether he prefers Hermann to see him as a big baby or a skeezeball. Big baby is worse, maybe—at least the alternative means Hermann thinks he's, like, at least mildly suave and a mega-pro at seducing grumpy mathematicians. But it all also raises a very important question. "If you knew I was gonna try to seduce you, then why did you come over?" Hermann was being pretty quiet about everything, up to and including when Newt told him to make himself at home on his bed, until now.

Hermann coughs, and mumbles out something about not having anything better to do with his time, then something else about Newt having wily machinations. "Let's finish the damned movie," he says.

Though Newt's chosen to let Hermann believe he's speeding down the skeezeball route tonight, that doesn't actually change the fact that Newt is, at heart, kind of a big baby—but also only when it comes to sooome horror movies, because he's usually really awesome and punk about these things, and you don't cover yourself in tattoos if you don't have a high tolerance for discomfort, and Newt was watching monster movies before he had object permanence. Unfortunately Newt is not currently covering himself in tattoos or dealing with his dad's admittedly questionable age-appropriate media decisions, but rather curled up in a sweatshirt and watching an evil spooky ghost slash through teenagers like nothing on his laptop with Hermann. The reviews weren't wrong about the realistic special effects. Newt makes a small noise that's definitely not a groan and turns his face away, just a little bit. "I don't understand why you enjoy subjecting yourself to rubbish like this," Hermann says. He's wrinkling his nose. Newt thinks the fiery power of Hermann's disdain could stop the homicidal movie ghost right in its tracks, which strangely makes him feel a little better. "We could be watching an infinite number of other much better films."

"Great idea," Newt says. "K-science movie night, every Friday. You can make the popcorn and choose the flick next time, I'll order pizza." Pizza sounds great right now. He should have dragged Hermann out into the city for pizza night and drinks at the worst bar he could find and made him eat something for dinner with nutritional value for a change (well, okay, in terms of comparison to the scalding tea and toast he usually has for dinner, a pizza is like a damn salad bar), not lured him into his messy bunk for a scary movie night neither of them are actually feeling. Maybe it's not too late to change their plans. There are probably still a few 24/7 delivery stragglers out there in a city this big that haven't yet succumbed to being stomped on by kaiju. "Is that guy still getting chainsawed?"

"No," Hermann says. He looks up at Newt's laptop screen quickly—he'd been distracted, picking crumbs off his sweater—and corrects himself, only just audible over the whirring of the ghost's chainsaw. Not a very creative weapon of choice for a slasher. Chainsaws are kinda been there done that, Newt thinks. "Er. Yes. This has been a rather prolonged death scene."

"Yeah, dude, no shit," Newt says. He tucks his head in against Hermann's shoulder, because it's not like Hermann can possibly think any less of him right now, and he's relieved when Hermann acquiesces to the touch and doesn't boot him across the room. Hermann's sweater smells kinda weird, like he left it out in the rain and didn't bother washing it after it dried. It's still soothing to be this close to him. Ugh, not that Newt would ever, ever admit that out loud, how embarrassing.

"I told you your charms are not going to work on me, Newton," Hermann sniffs, even as he gives Newt's shoulder a pat, and then something, bewilderingly enough, that Newt might call a reassuring squeeze. He doesn't move his hand afterwards. "No matter how pathetic you look right now."

"Thanks? Um, I think?"

Something particularly gnarly must happen on screen, because Hermann suddenly winces and drops their popcorn bowl, sending the remainder of it (mostly vaguely salty kernels) scattering across the floor. He reaches out and angles Newt's laptop screen down, just a centimeter from being shut entirely. A slasher-chainsawing-ghost victim screams their heart out through the muffled speakers. Hermann closes the laptop the rest of the way. "I think we ought to pick something else," he says.

"Sounds great," Newt says.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #benito-el-gato-con-gorrito

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fountainpenguin · 9 months

Text

"There's really just one thing that we have in common; neither of us will be missed..." (x)

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New Dog's Life chapter today!

Chapter 2 - “Embers (Impulse)”

Read on AO3

Start from Chapter 1

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Impulse is allowed to be POV character for both the pre-game and the rules chapters, not because I split the opening in several pieces but because he specifically can do whatever he wants <3

Dog's Life doesn't have a boogeyman, but it sure has hunting hounds! Grian's got rules to explain, everybody scrambles, folks start taking on mob traits, and Impulse gets his quarry roll. Check it out!

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

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[ImpulseSV - Player]

Quarry: TBA

Hunter: Unknown

💚 💛 ❤️

Seed 125. It's such an innocuous number, that. Just a sliver of a thing. You could almost personify it like a little fairy. What's that TV show where the letters of the alphabet form words and come alive? If there's a spin-off for numbers, this is exactly that. The number 125 is too ridiculously quaint and pretty to be "randomly selected," which makes it feel ethereal and fey. Does that make sense?

Listen to me. I really do sound like a guy whose friend group has been mostly other parents for the last dozen years.

Smajor gets it, though. Er… Scott. He's all-in on the freckly, pointy eared woodland fey aesthetic this time around- glittery and mystical with iridescent white fairy wings printed down the back of his bright green jacket. Someone call the Summer Court, because Tam Lin's in big trouble. That's him.

You know, just the name alone is hilarious. "Seed 125" sounds like a tourist trap or government lab, like Area 51 or something (at least in all the memes). The air here is warm and smells of salt and mucky sand. It's night, but no one's shivering… even those among the crowd of 17 (like Impulse) whose base code currently depicts them in shorts and a T-shirt. Skizz's suit vest doesn't even have sleeves. Cleo has her arms crossed, hands running up and down her skin, but she sort of always does that. You know: stands off to one side, watchful and aloof. Then she settles with a fwump on the edge of Ren's melon.

(Funny story about the staring. 16 of the 17 players gathered around the melon circle are tailed by "ghosts." They're not normally spoken of- invisible to each other's camera eyes, here only if you squint. HumanCleo betrays all the emotions of life and fear that ZombieCleo does not. The ghostly figure shivers, shifting from foot to foot. She presses her palms to her face. She's transparent, so it does very little to hide her. Impulse can see her beady camera eye staring blearily at the bedrock ground.)

Tango's red-blond hair flickers in the dark. His flames burn low. Since their center torch is pretty pathetic, he alone is lighting up the darkness of their inner circle. Well… Skizz has his halo and Scar decorated his cane with a glowing red orb, which rests in his lap, but there's no telling what that's about. Impulse squints.

Is Scar made of wood?

That'll be interesting. Scar always goes overboard with his skin swaps and roleplay in the death games, and clearly he's already built the bare bones of a plan. Doesn't wood rot near the seaside? This is the seaside, right? Slight waves slap against the shore down the hill from where they sit. Stalks of bamboo leer over them like skyscrapers and the bedrock Grian admin'd in around spawn is freckled with roaming pigs.

Seed 125 is too pretty of a place to be brutally murdered in a death loop. And this time, the realization of that cuts Impulse to the core. He jolts upright, gripping the edges of his melon chair.

Why are we doing all this? For the 'entertainment' of those whose faces we never see? Can't we just have a beach episode and enjoy building together in a tropical survival paradise?

Would that be good content? Maybe not, but it'd be a well-deserved vacation. Impulse rubs behind his neck, tracing out the ghosts of old scars and the ache of this morning's Skyblock stream with Skizz. Ooh. Is he really up for this?

I really shouldn't have spent an hour skimming through the void.

His cam twin moves instinctively to rub his shoulders. His misty hands pass straight through.

"So Grian," Scar calls, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Explain to us in your soothing British accent what the rules of this Life game are."

"Welcome to Dog's Life," Grian recites, spinning around like a king. He wobbles his arms, leaning his weight on just one leg. Gets his balance back. Exhales. They're all standing on random melons gathered around the bedrock spawn point, although there weren't enough for everyone, so some are on the ground. Actually, Smajor (Scott) and BigB have their arms wrapped around each other, tongues poking out uncertainly as they fight gravity and each other to keep themselves upright. Scott, a little squashed and frumpy, looks like he might step down in a second or two. While their melon is square, it's a little lumpy on one side. BigB grips Scott like a life preserver as though the grass is lava.

Beside them is Mumbo, fiddling with his tie. He stares at his shoes, but lifts his gaze as Impulse's eyes bear into him. This is only Mumbo's second round in the death game, so it's no wonder he's nervous. He looks out of his element - like a dolphin in Arizona - like he's debating if he ought to surrender his own melon to one of the senior players. Impulse tries to smile, but it comes out like a grimace. Mumbo fidgets with the hems of his coat. The skeletons on the fringes of their circle are noisy, bones clicking. Pigs snort. The zombies are the loudest of all… enough to make Impulse wonder whether they're standing just above a cave. How grateful he is for the bedrock that prevents death loops from trapping spawn.

One skeleton twists around, making Mumbo jump. But Ren shoots him a reassuring look, waving a dismissive hand. He's sitting on his melon, one leg crossed over the other. He looks relaxed. Cleo's doing the exact same thing, having apparently decided - quite stubbornly - that they won't stray far from spawn while the stars are out. They're in no rush to get moving.

Can't blame her, Impulse thinks, watching the skeleton keep its distance. He taps his fingers against the melon's side, starting up a beat (Skizz instinctively picks it up, drumming too). There's almost no point in foraging at night during Hardcore.

[Cnt'd on AO3 - Link at top]

#trafficblr #traffic life smp #ImpulseSV #Grian #mcyt #/Cracks fingers. I learned how to use the Basic Formatting work skin for this because WE COLOR CODING TODAY BOYS #I drew this preview image back in... April? Been dying to share... My Impulse and Joel came out so cute <3 #I've got WIPs for BigB / Scar / Mumbo / Scott / Pearl & Skizz and I look forward to sharing them soon!#ridwriting #Dog's Life #traffic life fanfic #apparently art #Joel SmallishBeans #Impulse Saint Bernard animatic my beloved #Pixels Imperfect #fic announcement #Dog's Life art

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