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allsassnoclass · 3 years ago

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ohhh wait also i wanted to send number 73 (height difference one) and thought it wouldn't work for them but it might for muke actually? -taylor<3

@squishmichael oh taylor never doubt my ability to create situations that give people a height difference regardless of how tall the characters actually are

muke: height difference kisses where one person has to bend down and the other is on their tippy toes

Michael has spent way too many hours in the theater if he's starting to get jumpy at every little noise. It's not difficult to let his imagination run wild when it gets late into the night and he's alone, but Michael himself has never had an encounter with one of their theater ghosts and he has no reason to believe that he'll have one now. It's an old building, so it stands to reason that the random noises he sometimes hears are all a result of the building settling, not a murderer walking around or anything like that.

Michael hopes it's not a murderer, at least. Then he'd probably be stuck haunting the theater with the other ghosts, and that's not an after-life he's ever wanted for himself.

Either way, he's been here too long. He sent the other carpenters home a while ago, only his phone playing music from the sound booth to keep him company, but the set really should be finished by tonight so the charge artists can work their magic tomorrow in preparation for tech week. All Michael has to do is finish attaching the railing to Juliet's balcony and he can go home to his dogs and his boyfriend and maybe, if he's really lucky, leftovers in the fridge because Luke managed to cook without burning the place down.

He only has two more screws left when he hears what sounds like someone tripping over one of the acting blocks backstage and a faint Ow, what the fuck.

"Who's there?" he asks, holding the screw gun out like it could possibly make an effective defense. It's not a projectile weapon like the nail gun, so it's basically useless. Maybe he could throw it, though. It's heavy enough to hurt a little.

"Just me!" someone calls, which is not very specific. Luckily, Michael recognizes the voice.

"Luke?" he asks, right before the man in question comes into view. He has a tupperware container in his hand and a scarf wrapped securely around his neck to fight off the chill that comes with sundown, curls a little unruly but otherwise looking perfectly like a model for a men's fall fashion collection.

"Luke," he repeats, lowering the drill. "You scared the shit out of me. How did you get in here?"

"You have the security code pinned on the fridge," Luke says, making his way across the stage and careful to avoid all of the tools, extension cords, and wood scattered around.

"Oh," Michael says. He's probably not supposed to leave the security code out for anyone to see, especially now that he's worked at the theater long enough to have it memorized. "What are you doing here?"

Luke holds up the container.

"I brought something to hold you over until dinner. Also, it's late and you weren't answering your phone. I figured you were caught up in things here, but I got a bit worried."

Michael gestures to the sound booth.

"I have it on do not disturb."

"Well, I realize that now," Luke says. "It also explains why you're here at ten at night without complaining to me about it."

"Is it really that late?" Michael asks. "Shit. I lost track of time, sorry. I'm almost done, I swear."

Luke shrugs.

"It's fine. I'm just glad you're okay and not dead in an alley. Besides, I get to see you in all your craftsman glory. There's nothing like a guy who knows how to handle power tools."

"Oh yeah?" Michael laughs, pressing the trigger on the screw gun twice. "That does it for you?"

"Well, maybe it's just you," Luke grins. Michael's heart flutters a little, the same way it always does when Luke pulls out something corny and sweet to compliment him.

"You're an idiot," he says, not bothering to hide the fondness saturating his words. "Let me put two more screws in, then we can go."

Luke wanders closer while Michael works, setting the tupperware down on the balcony floor in between the legs for the railing. He runs a hand up one of the legs, design carefully cut and sanded by Michael earlier in the day.

"What do you think?" Michael asks when he's done, leaning on the railing and looking down at him. "Is Juliet's balcony going to work? Does this look like a worthy balcony to be the subject of Romeo's iconic monologue?"

"I don't know," Luke says, looking up at Michael through his eyelashes. He still has a little bit of glitter on his eyelids from the day, making him sparkle under the work lights. He's always breathtaking, but Michael loves it when he pulls out the makeup if only for the added confidence it gives him. Besides, Luke's eyes are beautiful. Michael likes that the eyeshadow helps other people appreciate them as much as he does.

"But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?" Luke asks, gazing up at him. He pauses, then smiles. "I don't know any of the other lines, but I think it works. If I knew them, I'd monologue at you all night. You look good up there."

Michael is pretty sure he has sawdust in his hair, but Luke is looking at him like he's the prettiest thing he's ever seen. He feels his cheeks heat up under Luke's attention.

"You know, our Romeo is about your height. Think he'll be able to kiss Juliet from there?"

"We should test it out," Luke says. "Just to be sure it works."

"Yeah, definitely. I'd be a shitty lead carpenter if I didn't test it."

Luke tilts his head, gripping the railing legs. Michael cups the back of his neck and leans down, tugging Luke up towards him. Luke goes up on his toes, meeting Michael halfway sweetly. His lips are a little chapped and his nose is still cold from the walk from the subway to the theater, and Michael wants to keep him here until he warms up. Luke hums against him like he might agree.

Eventually Luke rocks back on his feet, breaking the kiss. Michael watches the glitter on his eyelids sparkle as he blinks his eyes open.

"I kind of like being taller than you for that," Michael says, swiping his thumb along Luke's jaw and loving the way that he leans into it. "It's a nice change of pace."

"Yeah?" Luke says. "We can do it again, if you want."

Michael doesn't respond, just leans down further and kisses Luke again.

He may not agree with most of Romeo and Juliet's decisions, but he thinks he understands them a bit better now. Kissing someone on a balcony is addictive, and he might make some silly decisions afterwards, too.

Of course, it might not be the balcony talking at all. Anyone would risk it all to be with Luke, and Michael thanks his lucky stars that he doesn't have to and can just keep kissing him instead.

#my writing #muke #drabble #i'm just going to keep writing theatre aus in my askbox prompts until i write an actual theatre fic #and even then i might keep going #write what you know yknow

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httpsgfg · 4 years ago

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happy 9 months to this bad bitch!!

it's sappy o'clock look away

yeah yeah another one of these

look, i won’t drone on about how shit this year has been we’re all well aware and past that. what i want to focus on is the joy and refuge that i have found here thanks to this album. i don’t think i have ever been this surprised and taken aback by an album before? in the best way possible. i was a casual listener at best, a local if you will. i knew the Hits i just never felt the urge to dive in...but that all changed as soon as i heard red desert. genuine and utter shock? no words to describe it really. i went down the youtube rabbit hole and well i’m a wholeass clown now. i don’t really contribute anything as i can’t edit, i don’t write, i never planned on immersing myself in the fandom per se. i thought i’d just come here to reblog pretty moving pictures and talk to myself in the tags, i had no idea i’d meet such kind and wonderful people and actually make friends? i’ve been in and out of So Many fandoms and never really found that sense of belonging to a community like i have here.

everyone i have come across has been so caring and kind and friendly. i appreciate the effort and love you put into each gifset and edit, every chapter written, memes and all. moreover, i have watched you all support each other through this difficult year and all the shitty hands we’ve been dealt and i couldn’t be more proud of each and every single one of you. simply for being here. know that my inbox is anon friendly and always open. keep on keeping on, i love you!! @karajaynetoday @kindahoping4forever @ashtcnirwin @blackbutterfliescal @cakelftv @mukeaf @mikeycliffords @bandsanitizer @calmfolklore @notinthesameguey @twilightmomentswithyou @ghost-of-you @ashesonthefloor @devilatmydoor @tekweela @ashtonsunshine @afterlows @sexgodashton and a few more words to those of you who made the effort to talk to me bc god forbid i do something first @clumsyclifford bella!! you were the first one to reach out and welcome me here and i will never forget that. thank you for bringing nothing but positive vibes on the dash, and thank you for creating the club and extending me an invitation that i’m still too much of a wuss to accept. discord and group chats can be overwhelming and i’d just end up lurking but i appreciate it sm♥ @rebelwith0utacause ana, my yugosos partner in crime!! where do i even begin? knowing there’s someone else from around here has made me feel right at home; thank you for the laughs, your cool older sis vibes, and everything else in between!! i am proud of you for kicking rona’s ass, working so hard, and being such a good pup mom and carer for mocha ♥живе биле велике порасле, ве сакам♥ @compulsiveidiota gigi my love. thank you. i enjoy our music talks immensely, not to mention yelling at each other during random michael/luke/muke photos spam sessions. please keep them coming. keep on bowling, barking, biting mean people, and being awesome♥

@wheniminouterspace shal. my fav crying-to-mitski pal. i hope you’re catching some zzzs rn and i can’t wait to see you wake up to new luke content!!!!!! also wayf supremacy!! had to put that out there. thank you for our always chaotic chats i enjoy them endlessly. i love youuu♥

@redrattlers em!!! i am still so amazed at how much our music/tv show/movie tastes match i could cry. the shared brain cell is strong in this one. i just know we would be the best of friends if only we knew each other irl too thank you for helping me spread the nbt agenda here. for sharing such good music with me. for listening to my playlists? just for being rad as hell. i love your edits, i love your energy, i love having you as a firend, i love you♥

@lifewasradical amanda!! i am so incredibly proud of you and everything that you have accomplished this year!! congrats once again on getting your masters in the middle of this mess. balancing school and work and just life in general and still finding time to come here and be your lovely self, i appreciate it a lot. all my love to you and endi♥

@himbocalum hi nat!! i remember we started talking thanks to a music ask thingy and me just calling you nat right away as if we’ve known each other forever bc it felt too formal to use your full name shfjlsd. it is always a pleasure to see you on my dash sending plenty of calum content my way. still blows my mind you sat down and listened to a wholeass album bc i wouldn’t stop talking about it. and then checked out the other albums too. and indulged me and let me talk your ear off about them. thank you, i love you and i still chuckle every time i see your url. iconic♥

@kaleidoscopeminds meg. meg meg meg. i remember saying i’d name my firstborn after you/your url and i stand by that. you having a blog with this gorgeous lover of mine line is quite fitting. thank you for the constant supply of quality content be that relatable text posts, stunning gifsets, dead on moodboards.......[i am still not over the one you made for me tyvm] just thank you. for being you. please don’t hog all the talent. i love you♥

@calumsthood san. i am so sorry you had to scroll past all of that^ but i wanted to end this with you. CEO of squish content. i can’t tell you how much i enjoy seeing you lose your marbles over chaotic aussies. even the one i only know about thanks to you. please stop calling your crispee hq gifs/edits garbage. i am no longer asking. thank you for blessing us with on the record footage that you got from music dot apple dot com. for letting me drag you back into nbt. bless you. keep sharing photos of your adorable dog!!!!! i love you that is all♥

#if anyone is in touch with jbhmalum em please send my love!!!!!!#the way this was supposed to go out way earlier but mr hemmings DERAILED me sorry #pretend this was posted on the 27th ok #yes i'm the plague rat who brought the broke!sos thing on here and somehow stuck around #honestly if we have Ever interacted in any way i love you i have so much love for all of you #you made this year so much better and i have rambled on for far too long now bye #x #it's emo hours #this was so hard i suck at expressing my feelings i will just. yell at you in the tags and send you cursed memes #NOT TUMBLR DOT COM CRASHING AS I WAS ABOUT TO POST THIS WHY DO YOU HATE ME #never doing this again bye

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mashtonasfuck · 4 years ago

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there’s a ghost in the back of this room

Pairing: Ashton Irwin x Calum Hood (and also a bonus side of muke that happened accidentally)

Prompt:

Person B is a ghost in Person A’s house and they would be really freaked out but Person B always leaves really good advice using the kitchen magnets, so Person A is not really bothered

Warnings: mention of a missing person who reader knows is dead/a ghost

Word Count: 3K

A note from Lucy: This is part of the halloween writers collab organised by @maluminspace and @h0tsos. The masterlist can be found here. See the end of the post for more notes. Hey look, I managed to write cashton fic without it turning into smut! Thanks to @loveroflrh and @kindahoping4forever for reading this over for me 💙

If you’d like to be added to my tag list then please fill in this form

You can find my masterlist here

This work must not be reposted anywhere - I do not give my permission for it to appear anywhere other than on my blog, or on my ao3 page.

——————————————————————————

“Ashton, why does your fridge say ‘stop being an idiot’?” Ashton glanced over to where Luke was staring at the fridge door in mild amusement.

“Oh, that’s just Calum - ignore him. I usually do” Ashton rolled his eyes as a picture fell off the wall as he finished speaking, the thud causing Luke to spin around, eyes wide.

“What was that?”

“I just brushed past the picture and knocked it off, that’s all.”

Luke narrowed his eyes at Ashton, the older man chuckling as he hung the picture back up.

“Come on, let’s watch this damn movie you don’t shut up about.”

–

Why did you tell Luke to ignore me

The question was on Ashton’s fridge the next morning, the letters a mishmash of colours and cases. Ashton pinched the bridge of his nose as he read it - only he would get a self conscious ghost living in his house.

“Calum, are you here?”

A cupboard door opened and a mug floated down onto the counter a few feet away from him - Ashton took that as a yes and shoved a pod into his coffee machine before grabbing the mug and pushing the button.

“I was only messing with you, Cal. Besides, you’re my ghost, it has nothing to do with Luke.”

Ashton watched as the letters on the fridge rearranged themselves, sipping on his coffee and humming at the bitterness dancing on his tongue.

Do you not want your friends to know about me

Ashton groaned internally, how could he explain this to his house ghost without offending him?

“I think they’d be pretty freaked out if they knew I lived with a ghost. You saw Luke’s reaction to you knocking that picture off the wall. Besides, I like keeping you a secret, you’re mine.”

It’s pretty hard for me to be yours when you’ve never even seen me

Ashton had in fact seen Calum. Or at least a photo of Calum.

–

He hadn’t been in the house more than a month when he started to realise that things kept happening. A photo moved slightly, the couch not being quite as tidy as he’d left it. The day Ashton had realised he actually had a ghost, he’d come home to find a new photo of him and Luke floating in midair.

“Um, hello?”

The photograph was dropped hastily, as though Ashton had scared the ghost he evidently had living in his house. After that, Ashton started talking to the ghost, even though he never got a reply aside from the odd knock on a table or a wall. It was while he was at a store grabbing something for dinner that he saw the fridge magnets. He grabbed all of the packets they had and drove home with a grin on his face.

“So, I bought you these today,” Ashton held out the magnets towards where he hoped his ghost was, “I thought maybe you could try talking back to me?”

Ashton felt a small whoosh of air as the ghost moved around the kitchen and he tore open the first packet, dumping the contents into a drawer he never used. Almost immediately the letters started floating from the drawer towards his fridge and Ashton watched as the ghost arranged the letters into a sentence.

Hello Ashton

“Hello, ghost. Oh - what’s your name? It feels weird calling you ‘ghost’.”

The letters arranged themselves once again.

My name is Calum

“Nice to finally know your name, Calum. How was your day?”

I’m a ghost Ashton

The brunette snorted as he watched the letters form another sentence.

Boring thank u for asking

Ashton laughed before spending the next few hours conversing with his ghost - with Calum - via fridge magnets. Calum had told him his full name after Ashton insisted upon knowing it.

“If you ever piss me off, I need to know what to call you.”

Calum Hood

It lingered there for a few seconds before ‘Hood’ was moved over.

Calum Thomas Hood

Ashton turned it over in his mind. Why did that name sound so familiar to him? He thought nothing more of it until he was at work a few days later.

STILL NO SIGN OF MISSING MAN

Police are still searching for Calum Thomas Hood, 24, who disappeared from his home 6 months ago. They’re urging anyone who may know anything about his disappearance to come forward.

Attached to the article had been a photo of the missing man, and Ashton knew it was his Calum. (He’d later cut the photograph out of the newspaper and taped it to the bottom of his desk drawer where no one would find it.) When he’d got home from work that day, Ashton had asked Calum how he’d died.

Not sure don’t remember

Ashton had debated telling the police that he knew exactly where Calum Thomas Hood - or at least his soul - was. He’d told Calum this one evening and a single word had appeared on his fridge.

Crazy

–

Calum was bored.

Sure, being a ghost meant that he could walk through walls and move things with his mind, but being bound to one place had its drawbacks. There were only so many times you could move things around waiting to see how long it took Ashton to find them before you’d moved everything.

(He’d even tried to swap all the furniture in Ashton’s bedroom with all the furniture in his living room, but Ashton had come home earlier than Calum had anticipated and made him put it all back to normal without any help. Moving things with your mind was tiring.

“You’re a ghost, Cal, how can you get tired?”

Calum had used all of the ‘i’s and the ‘l’s to make a middle finger on Ashton’s fridge door.)

Calum thought that Ashton could sense how restless he was. Ashton seemed to find new reasons to work from home during the day so Calum wasn’t by himself. Not that they could really interact unless Ashton was in the kitchen. They’d tried using a pen and some paper once, but Calum’s ghostly abilities didn’t seem to extend to pens. He couldn’t seem to get the pressure right to actually leave ink on the paper. Ashton had laughed at him before being met with a cushion to the face.

Calum missed being alive. He missed being able to go outside. He missed coffee. He missed being able to pet dogs.

Most of all, he was frustrated that he couldn’t remember how he’d even become a ghost. At night while Ashton was asleep, Calum tried to remember what had happened. (There wasn’t much else to do while your best friend was sleeping.) He’d get so far into the memory and then something would tug him back into the present moment. It was disconcerting. Calum could sense that he was close to finding out the truth, but something was stopping him. He’d tried to explain it to Ashton but ran out of letters and gave up. He’d debated asking the other man to buy more, but had resigned himself to the fact that it just wasn’t worth it. Ashton wasn’t going to be able to help him figure out what had happened - it was something he needed to figure out for himself.

–

“Hey Cal, how do you feel about me throwing a Halloween party this year?”

Although Ashton couldn’t see him, he knew that Calum had raised an eyebrow at his question.

It’s your house Ashton

“Well excuse me for wanting to make sure my resident ghost wasn’t inconvenienced.” Ashton smirked at his fridge as Calum spelt out a new message.

Appreciate it

Sure, have a party

Ashton cheered aloud and began reeling off his ideas to Calum, barely giving the ghost time to form a sentence. Calum shook his head fondly at the man standing opposite him - if Calum had been alive and met Ashton, he was sure that they’d have been best friends. When Ashton had finished speaking, Calum had one thing to say.

You already have a haunted house Ash

–

The party had taken Ashton weeks of planning and he’d dragged Luke into the prep early on in the process.

Calum liked having Luke around - he was fun to mess with. He’d taken to moving Luke’s glass from wherever he’d put it down and putting it on the other side of the room. Watching Luke’s bewilderment was a new favourite activity of Calum’s - Ashton had to keep taking the fall for his antics.

As Halloween rolled around, Ashton’s house really did look haunted. Every room was shrouded in black and there were cobwebs all over the place. (Calum’s favourite thing was the skeleton hiding behind the downstairs closet door that jumped out whenever you walked past it.) According to Ashton, the outside looked just as scary as the inside, but Calum had to take his word for it.

As people started arriving, Calum retreated into Ashton’s room. He didn’t usually go anywhere near the other man’s room, but Ashton had told him that it was okay if he needed to get away from all the people. Calum was worried about being walked through. Ashton had done it a few times by accident, and Calum had felt sick every time it had happened. That was something they were both eager to avoid, especially once Calum had explained to Ashton how it felt.

A knock on Ashton’s bedroom door piqued Calum’s interest and Luke’s head appeared around the door frame.

“Ash, are you - oh. You’re not here.” Luke started to close the door but stopped suddenly, pushing it back open and slipping inside before closing it behind him. He glanced around a few times, gaze running over where Calum was sitting on the end of the bed.

“This is going to sound crazy, but is there someone else in here?”

Calum cocked his head at Luke’s words; he knew that Ashton wasn’t particularly forthcoming with Luke about his existence. He shifted off the end of the bed, moving across the room to stand about a foot away from Luke. The blonde let out a breath as he felt the temperature in the room drop slightly.

“Calum, right?” Luke’s voice was quiet as he spoke, Calum smiling at the fact that Luke remembered his name. He picked up a pillow from Ashton’s bed in response, tossing it gently towards Luke. The other man caught it easily, eyes growing wide at the pillow that was suddenly in his arms.

“Holy shit, you are actually real.”

Calum let out a laugh at Luke’s words, amazement etched into the blonde’s face.

“I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere.”

The blonde left the room, returning a few minutes later with an armful of stuff. He dropped it all on Ashton’s bed before turning around and facing the room.

“So, um, I bought a small magnetic whiteboard and some of the letters from Ashton’s kitchen drawer and I was wondering if we could talk about something?”

Luke watched in shock as the letters began arranging themselves on the whiteboard.

Hi Luke

What’s up

Luke sucked in a breath before he started talking.

–

Calum knew this was crazy.

Luke was crazy.

Just because it was Halloween, it didn’t mean that Ashton would suddenly be able to see him. Calum had always thought the whole ‘veil being thinner on Halloween’ thing was bullshit. Luke was insistent that it wasn’t, telling him that if anyone would be able to see him it would be Ashton.

“He’s in love with you, I think.”

The way Luke had said it had been so casual, but it sent Calum’s mind reeling. Ashton couldn’t possibly love him. He barely even knew him. Luke had dismissed Calum’s concerns before he’d even completed a sentence on the board. The more Calum thought about it, the more he was sure that he was the one in love with Ashton. He paused rearranging the letters for a moment as he stared at Luke.

Think I love him too

Luke had lit up with a smile at Calum’s words before slipping out of the room to find Ashton.

Calum was sure if he had any contents in his stomach, that they would be on their way out by now. He was so nervous. Luke was so sure that this would work, that Calum found himself believing the blonde man wholeheartedly. It felt like an eternity before Luke finally returned dragging Ashton behind him, along with another man that Calum had never seen before.

“Calum, this is Michael. He’s my boyfriend and he’s also slightly psychic.”

Michael blushed a deep red at Luke’s words, scanning the room before he locked eyes with Calum.

“Hello, Calum.”

Calum waved gingerly at the green eyed man staring at him, Michael breaking out into a smile. He glanced at Luke and nodded slightly, the blonde smirking at Ashton. Ashton was standing behind Luke looking bewildered as he watched the exchange between his friends.

“Can someone please explain to me what’s going on? Luke, how did you find out about Calum?”

Luke glanced over his shoulder at the brunette man and rolled his eyes.

“Please, I don’t know why you thought no one would find the picture you’d taped to your desk drawer. Coupled with the fact that you kept blaming ‘Calum’ for things. You weren’t exactly subtle, Ash. I put two and two together and did a google search.”

Ashton’s jaw dropped open as Luke spoke, Calum snickering at his reaction. Michael smiled widely at Calum and turned to face Ashton.

“You already know what Calum looks like, right?”

Ashton nodded slowly, fearful of where this was going.

“As we all know, the veil is thinner on Halloween, therefore allowing spirits to pass between the realms. I’ve never tried to bring an actual ghost through the veil, but there’s a first time for everything, right?” Michael rolled his shoulders as he spoke, turning back to face Calum. “Provided this goes right, we should all be able to see you. I mean, I already can. But Luke and Ashton too. Worst case scenario is that only I can see you, and this doesn’t work. You only live once though, right?”

Calum rolled his eyes at Michael’s words, bracing himself for whatever the man was about to do.

“Oh, wait.” Michael glanced at Ashton before looking back towards Calum, “Say something to me, Calum. I need to know if I can hear you already or not.”

Calum raised an eyebrow at Michael.

“You’re such a know-it-all, Michael.”

Michael broke out into laughter, Luke and Ashton looking at him in confusion.

“This is gonna be fun, nice to meet you Calum.” Michael smirked at him before cracking his knuckles, “You’re gonna fit right in with us all, I’m sure of that.”

“Michael, what exactly are you going to do?” Ashton’s voice was nervous, he didn’t like the fact that Michael could see Calum when he couldn’t.

“We, my dear friends, are going to summon Calum firmly into the realm of the living.”

–

Calum felt the air around him grow fuzzy as he watched the three figures sat on the floor in front of him.

“Now Ashton, I need you to imagine Calum standing right in front of you. Really imagine it. See him in your mind’s eye. You got it? Good.” Michael looked away from Ashton and back towards Calum. “Cal, whenever you’re ready, I need you to come and stand in front of Ashton. I’m 80% sure that this is going to work. It depends how well Ashton is visualising.”

The brunette huffed in Michael’s direction and Calum smirked.

“Is he always like this when I’m not around?”

Michael grinned at Calum before nodding and gesturing to the spot on the floor in front of Ashton.

“Whenever you’re ready, Calum.”

–

Holy shit

“Cal?” Ashton’s voice was barely a whisper as he stared at the man suddenly standing before him.

“Hi, Ash.” Calum blushed under the other man’s gaze, casting a look towards Luke and Michael who were both sat on the floor smirking.

Ashton blinked a few times before slowly standing up and reaching towards Calum. The other man grabbed his arm as he stood, helping to pull him off the floor.

“How - how are you corporeal right now?” Ashton looked over at Michael who simply shrugged in return.

“You must be really good at visualising. It was only supposed to make Calum visible and hearable. Whether or not he was corporeal was out of my control.” Michael pulled Luke to his feet as he stood up, taking the blonde’s hand, “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to go and make out with my boyfriend in Ashton’s spare room. Nice to meet you, Cal. I daresay we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other in the near future.”

Michael dragged Luke from the room, the blonde waving absentmindedly at Ashton and Calum as they retreated, closing the door behind them.

“It’s really you.” Ashton ran his hand up Calum’s arm. The other man was wearing the same clothes as in the photo Ashton had seen, Calum’s leather jacket feeling smooth against his fingers.

“It’s really me, Ash.” Calum brought a hand up rest against the back of Ashton’ neck. “It’s so weird to be able to talk to you and for you to actually be able to hear me.”

Ashton laughed quietly at Calum’s words, leaning forwards to rest their foreheads together.

“I can’t believe you’re really standing here and I can see you. Remind me to get Michael a case of beer or something.”

“Noted.” Calum grabbed both of Ashton’s hands, lacing their fingers together. “I’ve thought about being able to touch you for so long.”

Ashton hummed quietly at the other man’s words, the realisation finally setting in.

Calum was here. He could see Calum. He could hear him. He could feel him.

“Ash, I need to tell you something.” Calum nudged Ashton’s head up so they were eye to eye. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

Ashton smiled softly at the admission.

“Pretty sure I’m in love with you too, Cal. I mean, it’s kinda complicated because you’re a ghost and all, but I really do love you.”

Calum searched Ashton’s face for any sign of hesitancy before closing the distance between them.

——————————————————————————

Notes: I deliberately left this open ended so I can come back to it in the future. I hope you like it, I’m really unsure about it 🥺 please let me know what you think here

Taglist: @pxrxmoore, @irwinkitten, @kindahoping4forever, @sadistmichael, @loveroflrh, @adoringlrh, @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles, @maluminspace, @malumsmermaid, @lashtonswildflower, @irwindoll, @castaway-cashton, @everyscarisahealingplace, @converse-luke, @zhangyixingxing1, @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25

#cashtonasfuck #cashtonasfuck writes #superbloomirwin #superbloomirwin writes #ashton irwin fic #calum hood fic #cashton fic #5sos writing collab #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer fic #cashton fanfic #cashton fluff

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bitchwhoreofastorm · 5 years ago

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vivec and nerevar

We sat in the dust, eating bitter grapefruit. The day was hot and the air was dry so we sheltered in the shadow of our caravan. You let the guar come over, and they rested their heavy heads in our laps-- Muke kept trying to eat the grapefruit peels from my hand, but Shleb was well-behaved and snored on your belly. Ash caught the sticky ring around my mouth, you said it lookked like stubble, like I needed to shave, like I could grow a beard. I tried to throw the peels at you and Muke ate them. They were so bitter, those grapefruits, the sun was hot.

I was hungover, nursing a waterskin. You were singing a song and it made me want to hit you. I threw my peels at you-- you laughed at me, it sounded like windchimes. Prophecy be damned, then, I thought you were born beautiful. In the sun and the ashy air you glowed.

In Mournhold I was hungover again, but we ate overly-sweet cookies, soft and fluffy, full of unfamiliar things. The cook said they were oats and raisins, and you recognized the spice as cinnamon. I ate so many that my teeth hurt and then I vomited into a potted plant. You laughed at me, but this time it sounded like gravel, and I wanted to throw something at you but I couldn't waste a crumb. We were trussed up like house-slaves ready for the sale in our borrowed silks, mine with sick on the sleeves, you joked that yellow looks good on blue. I told you I would sleep in the stable and you told me I was worth more than that, as if you missed my point.

I have always hated you. I always adored you. I hated you for what you weren't but I don't think I could love you for what you were. I hated you because you were nothing, because you let yourself be molded like clay into whatever was needed. I hated you because you were everything, like clay, and nobody could change the nature of you, and everyone who tried to sculpt you came away with your stain all over their hands. You submitted to us and it forced us to submit to you. You loved me even when I tried to make you hate me, which forced me to love you, and I hated you for forcing me to do that. Did you even know what you were doing? Did you know that when you cradled my head in your lap and fed me sweet fruits you were committing the most violent act against me? When you laughed at me and taught me to be like you, did you intend to be so cruel? You told me I was too young for you and you're the only man who's ever said that to me. You saw this as very noble. If your hands would reach you would pat your back, but your arms don't reach so I patted it instead, and hated you for it.

We sat in the dust, sipping warm water and cooking saltrice. I had an infection in my leg, Alandro Sul made a bitter medicine, chewing corkbulb into a paste and spitting on me, you were asking me about Dwemeris prepositions, I was threatening to kill you. The guar were half-dead from exhaustion and your trade-goods were spoiling in the sun. There was a war, people were dying, we were all starved and angry and tired and I was happy, so happy, with my fever and my head in your lap and my cursing you with every breath. That night I got drunk on flin and you held me all night while I cried about the past. We hardly knew each other though we’ve never been strangers. You didn't flinch and I thought you were a monster for that. Who hears such things and doesn't flinch? You told me you cried, later, after that night, and I hated you for making me feel guilty. Guilty for my honesty. Guilty for having survived.

How dare you make me feel guilty? I won't mourn you. I only mourn Muke and those stupid bitter grapefruits.

#been thinking a lot about vivec :(#fic

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5sosbitchfest · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! I left an ask about some of the lyrics on CALM and I wasn't sure if you got it? If you did, no rush, I know who guys get a lot of asks. If not, I can resend it :)

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: Listening to CALM, I've realized how gender neutral most songs are. The exception are songs like teeth (ex: sometimes when I look at you I see my wife} and nitsw (ex: mascara's running down your face > typically feminine imagery). Those are 2 of the most toxic songs. CALM really feels like an extension of Luke so those toxic songs would be about Messy. Luke even said she inspired teeth (yikes lol). Songs like Best Years, Lies & High feel like Muke going through a difficult time bc drama & Crusty

******************************************

I’m sorry, Nonnie! I took a small break from Tumblr this weekend! I’m trying to get caught up.

Luke said that a lot of the songs on CALM were inspired by his current relationship. I don’t think any of the songs on the album portray that relationship in a good light. Not even LOM or Best Years. Themes such as lying, giving reasons to walk away, secrets, breaking his heart, “killin’ me slow/”want me dead etc. are prevalent in most of the songs. Sidenote: I truly think that TPTB weren’t prepared for the horrible light Teeth put Messy in - they really needed to push the Lemon PR narrative after that one was released.

I personally think High is related to Muke. The very first part of the song just screams it to me:

I hope you think of me high I hope you think of me highly When you're with someone else I know your friends all lie I know your friends don't like me They want you for themselves

Michael is never allowed to be with him (or Cashton) when they aren’t touring or doing promo.

#kirby #luke #messy #lemon #muke #michael #CALM

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newhologram · 5 years ago

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Yuureizumii [The Ghost is Me] - Reol lyrics and translation

Usual disclaimer: I’m a JP student, not fluent, still learning. I also try not to do literal translations because it feels stale and not so creative. It’s more important to me to preserve the feeling than to give you a boring direct translation.

Translation note: My first Reol translation, suggested by many people for a long time. The title has a double meaning. Yuurei = ghost, and it sounds like “yuurei is me” (ghost is me) but it also sounds like “you raise me.” The official English title is Phanto(me). For the purpose of this interpretation and the flow of the lyrics, I kept it as “the ghost is me”.

(Not sure if she really fits under J-Pop since she’s got so much blending of genres and rapping going on) Preview here Music video here

FANSUB HERE Gifsets will be in my gifs tag More translations Like my J-Pop translations? Donate to my ko-fi or become a Patron.

Translation, romaji, and kana below.

———-

Hey, did I really bite the dust? Fed up with this fleeting life, toss it out (toss it out) Whatever's instant, a boring Avalon

Right-facing, right-going head toss (toss it) It's all alike, the very same pleasures The drag of a sympathetic forced smile My skeleton's still full of wounds But it looks like there's no one inside

A mystery without a culprit A reprint is nothing but a crude parody Chance meetings and break ups (that) Come on, cross the river with me (that) to the world without suffering, Miss Ghost Bye-bye, let's return to Nothing

A curse upon your body You must fly sober, that's some B.S. A curse upon each other I wanna meet at 3am in the dead of the night

I've been watching all along, a certain infatuation Love, hate, the difference is millimeters The vague sense of Me Mine is dizzying The lifeblood of a wandering soul is the ghastliest thing Your face lined up on the bedside

The past you want to hide and the future you want to achieve Switching between sweet and spicy is perfect for human entertainment Taking the place of social hysteria

I want to eat it up deliciously and I want to laugh it up Living? Breathing? Time's almost up Listen, I heard something

A curse upon your body Hide it from the world, you only live once A curse upon each other Take it to the grave if it's that precious Hey, come on, sing

The ghost is me, no, the spirit is me Extras can't be returned even if the crow caws You raise me, yeah, raise me That body built with deficient love is mine

If you get bored of what you stole, toss it Come in on, it'll be an easy trade Welcome! This is good fortune, a blessing

Who could it be? I wonder if you know? Hurry and figure it out, yeah, it was you

Ya Ya, put your hands up if you don't wanna die Poltergeist Will-o'-Wisp A foolish soul takes a lecherous bite Bit by bit, countdown, 3 2 1, aaaaaah!

A curse upon your body You must fly sober, that's some B.S. A curse upon each other I wanna meet at 3am in the dead of the night

A curse upon your body Hide it from the world, you only live once A curse upon each other Take it to the grave if it's that precious Let's go

--- nee boku shinjatta n kana hekieki to suru ukiyo mo poi (poi) nandemo INSUTANTO tsumaran ABARON

migi muke migi suru atama wo poi (poi) nitariyottari onnaji kairaku aisowarai kyoukan no DORAGGU hone mo nokoran manshin soui de naka ni wa dare mo inai mitai

hannin ga fuzai no MISUTERII juuban shuttai osomatsuna PARODI meguri aite wakarete (sore) saa kawa wo watatte oide (sore) shikuhakku nai sekai he yuurei-san BAI BAI, mu ni kaeshite

urameshi ya anta karada shirafu de tobenakya uso jan ka urameshi ya otagai-sama sa mayonaka sanji ni aitai naa

zutto miteita yo aru de koi da mon suki kirai chigai wa MIRI aimaina MIIMAIN wa furafuraa samayou tamashii ikichi ga ichiban osoroshii na on the makuramoto narabu kimi no kao

kakushitai kako to nashietai mirai amai kurai wa kougo ni hito no goraku ni wa uttetsuke tottekawaru sesou no HISUTERII

oishiku tabetai na son de waraitai na iki？ iki？ mou girigiri houra kikoeta

urameshi ya anta karada yo ni habakare ikkai kiri jan ka urameshi ya otagai-sama sa haka made motteke daiji nara saa sa utae

yuureizumii noo reizumii tenkabutsu mansai karasu ga naite mo kaerenai yuureizumii sou reizumii tannai ai tousai sono karada boku no mono

ubatte akitara poi shite irasshase kantan baibai mensoore！ kore de shiawase, shiawase da yo

daredeshou wakaru kana hayaku kidzuite sou kimi da yo

ya ya shinitakunakerya sono te wo ue ni PORUTAAGAISUTO UIRUOUISUPU bakana tamashii ga midara ni kui tsuku sore dandan KAUNTODAUN hifumi yo aa

urameshi ya anta karada shirafu de tobenakya uso jan ka urameshi ya otagai-sama sa mayonaka san ji ni aitai naa

urameshi ya anta karada yo ni habakare ikkai kiri jan ka urameshi ya otagai-sama sa haka made motteke daijinara let's go

--- ねぇ僕死んじゃったんかな辟易とする浮世もポイ (ポイ) なんでもインスタントつまらんアヴァロン

右向け右する頭をポイ (ポイ) 似たり寄ったり同じ快楽愛想笑い共感のドラッグ骨も残らん満身創痍で中には誰もいないみたい

犯人が不在のミステリー重版出来お粗末なパロディ巡り逢て別れて (ソレ) さぁ川を渡っておいで (ソレ) 四苦八苦ない世界へ幽霊さんばいばい、無に還して

うらめしやあんたからだシラフで飛べなきゃ嘘じゃんかうらめしやお互い様さ真夜中三時に逢いたいなぁ

ずっと見ていたよあるで恋だもん好き嫌い違いはミリ曖昧なミーマインはふらふらぁ彷徨う魂生き血が一番恐ろしいな On the 枕元並ぶ君の顔

隠したい過去と成し得たい未来甘い辛いは交互に人の娯楽にはうってつけ取って代わる世相のヒステリー

美味しく食べたいなk そんで笑いたいな生き？息？もうギリギリほうら聞こえた

うらめしやあんたからだ世に憚れ一回きりじゃんかうらめしやお互い様さ墓まで持ってけ大事ならさぁさ歌え

ゆーれいずみーのーれいずみー添加物満載カラスが鳴いても還れないゆーれいずみーそうれいずみー足んない愛搭載そのからだ僕のもの

奪って飽きたらポイしていらっしゃーせかんたん売買めんそーれ！これで幸せ、幸せだよ

誰でしょうわかるかなはやく気付いてそう君だよ

Ya Ya 死にたくなけりゃその手を上にK ポルターガイストウィルオウィスプ馬鹿な魂が淫らに食いつくそれだんだんカウントダウンひふみよ嗚呼

うらめしやあんたからだシラフで飛べなきゃ嘘じゃんかうらめしやお互い様さ真夜中三時に逢いたいなぁ

うらめしやあんたからだ世に憚れ一回きりじゃんかうらめしやお互い様さ墓まで持ってけ大事なら Let's go

#reol #phanto(me)#yuureizumii #translation

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rezares · 5 years ago

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Wildcard || War & Peace

Reading order of posted threads:

Spill The Tea (August 22, 2019)

Bullshit Cover Story (November 10, 2019)

Bullshit Detective (November 10, 2019)

Word Count: 2166

Date: November 10th, 2019

tl;dr: Rory follows Reza to the airport because he’s a shit liar

@spindlesandrosethorns

AURORA

Aurora was probably making a bad decision.

It wasn’t as if she and Reza didn’t have enough bullshit muking up their friendship; somehow she didn’t think inviting herself on his murdercation would endear her to him in the slightest. But Aurora refused to let him go and face his former student alone, and so when Reza had evasively said he was going to be out of town for a while, she had bribed Lamia into getting her his itinerary and bought her own ticket on the same flight.

Not that much bribery was involved. Rory had said “I’m following your brother to Tunisia” and Lamia and Fadela had given her all the help she didn’t think to ask for.

The ticket she had bought was burning a hole through her bag and against her hip, but she walked through the terminals like nothing was wrong. If he wanted to fight her, fine, but she was getting on that plane by hook or by crook. She had arrived with plenty of time to spare, and was even able to get some tea before making her way to their gate. Reza was easy to spot - not because he stood out, but because she simply couldn’t miss him if she tried - and taking a deep breath, Aurora walked up to him calmly. Might as well be upfront.

“That seat taken?” she asked, one hand on her hip.

REZA

Reza’s heart wasn’t racing. In fact, he was more at ease than he’d been in years. Soon enough Mekki Masmoudi wouldn’t be breathing, let alone be a problem, and that was the greatest comfort of Reza’s life. It was time to put down the monster he’d unwittingly created.

His eyes were cast down at the book in his lap he brought for some plane reading when a voice said something about a seat.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahea-” y’allah. He knew that voice.

“Rory!” He jumped in his seat, knocking his book to the floor. To hell with losing his page, what was she doing here? “How- why-? The fuck?”

AURORA

Calm as anything, Aurora ignored his spluttering and instead sat down in the available seat with a casual toss of her curls. She scooped up his book and held it out to him.

"I'm doing my father a favor picking up some papers from a business partner of his in Tunisia," she said evenly, her eyes not leaving his. "Maybe checking out the fibre scene while I'm there." She silently dared him to call her out on her fib. "Lamia and Fadela were kind enough to tell me when you were flying out so I wouldn't have to fly alone." At this, she gave him a smile. "Hope you don't mind."

Read: I'm coming. Suffer.

REZA

He took his book, grip weak as most of his strength went to his brain to try and processes this scene. Rory was here. Rory knew. Rory was barging in on his plans to kill a man.

She sat down next to him and Reza wanted to scream. He wanted to pick her up and carry her to the exit and tell airport security she had knife or something. Anything to keep her from boarding that flight to Tunisia.

She shouldn’t be here.

“Go home, Aurora.” Reza said darkly. “Go home.”

She needed to leave.

AURORA

Aurora knew she was currently treading water in the depths of Reza's anger; that any second now she was going to be sucked under. But she refused to back down or be cowed by her sorcery master.

"Would," she said with a shrug, "but I already bought my ticket. Buggers are impossible to refund. 'Sides," she said, resting her chin on the tips of her fingers. "You look like you need a travel companion too. It's a long trip to make alone, and I don't mind flying."

Reza was a smart man, he'd be able to hear the words between her words.

REZA

No, no, no. She needed to be far away from him while he was this version of himself. She didn’t need to see this, or watch him wash blood off of himself, or have any part in this.

“You can’t come. You’ll feel cramped. My dad’s apartment is small, we’re poor.” Reza deadpanned.

“I’ll give you the ticket cost money.”

AURORA

Aurora gave him a deadpan look in return that clearly said "Really, dude?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I am like… half your size," Aurora said. "I'm not concerned about space. Worse comes to worse, I rent a room somewhere."

REZA

“Then you can’t come because you can’t be an accomplice in a homicide. You can’t go to a country where the punishment for being a sorcerer is vigilante murder.” Reza said, gripping his book tight to keep from raising his voice.

Was Aurora this in love with him or just this stupid?

“I know you know. Fadela has a big mouth.”

AURORA

"Fadela didn't have to have a big mouth because you left your conspiracy folder on the desk we both use," Aurora replied, leaning in so she could keep her voice under a whisper. "You've been attached to that thing at the hip for weeks now, I got worried. Also, notice how I didn't mention any of that in public? Keep up, Reza."

Her expression was calm even though she could see the anger dancing around him. She honestly did not want to be fighting with him, but there really was no other alternative. "I'm coming," she said, quiet but firm. "You are not doing this alone. So either I fly in with you or I travel there by myself and track you down once I arrive."

REZA

Why can’t she just leave? He didn’t want or need her here. Why did she have to do this?

“You can’t track me down, you don’t speak Arabic.” Reza countered. “And Tunisia is dangerous for foreign women who don’t know the Middle East to travel to unless they go with a local.”

“And I don’t have time to be a tour guide and translator. I’ll ditch you at the airport in Tunis and continue to my hometown alone.”

AURORA

Aww, he thought a language barrier would be enough to stop her. That was cute.

But she didn't say that. She didn't point out that she could defend herself more than well enough. That she could always call Lamia or Fadela for help.

All Aurora did was stare into his eyes and quietly ask, "Would you?"

(They both knew the answer was no.)

REZA

Reza blinked at her and wanted nothing more than to physically carry her back through security and out of the airport. This wasn’t a world for her. She was never meant to see his darkness, his hatred, and bloodlust so clearly.

If she fancied herself such a good friend, couldn’t she see this hurt him?

“Without hesitation.” They both knew he was lying.

AURORA

He was bluffing and she knew it, so Aurora just turned to her phone with a small hum. "Guess I'll meet you in Hammamet then," she said.

After he had a moment to steam, she leaned closer and whispered in his ear "I'm not coming along while you actually find the guy, I know better. I'm just here to make sure you come home. I promise I'll stay at your da's place like a good girl and won't get in anyone's way."

It was aggravating, religating herself to the kids' table so to speak just so Reza didn't throw more of a bitch-fit than he already was, but Aurora knew where her strengths were. And they weren't in battle magic or any sort of fighting. She'd be dead weight. No, her skills lay in other places; pulling Reza's head out of his ass was practically listed on her resume.

REZA

“You don’t know where my father lives.” Reza mumbled childishly, looking away from her and staring out the window overlooking the tarmac.

He laughed mirthlessly as he bit down on a curled knuckle to stifle it and relaxed his legs...yeah, manspreading a little. ‘Making sure he comes home.’ What does that even mean? As if he was going to stay in Tunisia. As if he could. He was revealed as a sorcerer, he couldn’t stay forever. Sabiha was the only reason he’d ever wanted to move back there one day but now she was in Swynlake. He wanted to be where his daughter was, wherever that may be.

“I don’t need you to do that.” He said quietly. “Like I could possibly be apart from my daughter ever again.”

AURORA

She knocked her knee against his reflexively, the motion almost habit from long nights sitting together on his couch either going over magical texts or Board documents. “That’s not what I mean,” she said softly.

Physically, yes, Reza would come home. Sabiha was enough incentive for that. But he would leave a piece of himself in Tunisia wherever Mekki met his end if someone wasn’t there to guide him back. She couldn’t just stay home and wait for him to come back in pieces, left alone with his thoughts for too long. No, she would be there. What exactly she could do, she didn’t know - this was the most the two had talked in one time about something that wasn’t in a lesson plan in months, whatever care he’d had for her thoughts and opinions had vanished when the bruise on her chest had bloomed on her skin - but she wasn’t going to let that keep her from trying.

REZA

A silence fell between them. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t awkward either. It just was.

“You need to do everything I tell you to do.” Reza finally said, opening up the front pocket of his carry on to pull out a notebook and pen. “Tunisia is one of the best places in the MENA region to be a woman-” he explained, writing quickly. “- but the whole area is trash for magicks, so that kind of cancels out our strides in gender equality. There should be some of Lamia’s and Fadela’s old clothes in their room at baba’s house, so if I think an outfit needs some...Tunisia-fying, just add whatever I hand you.”

“Hammamet is a larger northern city, so total modesty isn’t all but demanded like in the south of Tunisia. And you’ve traveled to Africa before and been hanging out with Tunisian Muslims long enough to know, so I’m not implying you aren’t prepared, but-” he shrugged. “ - just don’t get offended if I toss you a shawl for your arms. Did you pack sunglasses? Like a good pair? The sun is bright in Tunisia year-round, you will need them. We can buy some there if we need to.”

He kept writing until he was satisfied, and ripped the page from his notebook, extending it to her.

“You’ll get around just fine with English and French - and I’m not letting you go anywhere alone anyway - but you’ll impress people if you learn just this much Tounsi. Learn it, live it, love it.”

AURORA

Aurora didn’t grin when Reza accepted that she was coming along, but it was a very near thing. He could probably see the satisfaction and relief curling around her, and really, that was telling enough. She sat up and listened to him carefully, watching his pen fly across the paper.

She didn’t mention that she had packed most of her clothes she wore when visiting Mozambique with her mother, including enough head-scarves to keep even Aurora’s wild curls contained and tucked away. Her mother’s home wasn’t Tunisia, so if Reza thought her outfits weren’t to snuff, she’d listen.

“I did,” she reassured, patting her carry on bag. Fadela had basically given her the same speech over the phone while she and Ella had packed. Aurora took the page from Reza, looking over his familiar handwriting carefully. There were several words that Aurora couldn’t read without her accent tripping over itself, but darn it, she was going to learn them.

“You’re going to have to help me with pronunciation,” Aurora admitted. “But I’ll learn them.”

REZA

Reza nodded.

“Good.” He went back to staring at the tarmac. This was a terrible, horrible, awful idea. He should shout ‘she has a bomb!’ but ah, neither of them were white. Probably not the best idea for either of their very brown asses.

“Aurora, I can’t stress enough how dangerous going to my country is. If you so much as think the word ‘magic’ I will kick your ass. Metaphorically. A lot of metaphorical ass-kicking will go down. Clear?”

AURORA

“I will be on my best behavior,” Aurora promised, catching his eye so he could see how serious she was. This wasn’t a decision she had made lightly, no matter how easily it had come to her. She knew what the risk was; it just happened that she thought Reza needed her more.

#rory

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badmousestuff-blog · 6 years ago

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The problem with Free Speech (Script)

One day I was helping out with the Free Palestine stall on Church Street. About an hour in a young dude came up to me, and gave us the usual conservative drivel.

He told me that he couldn’t support the left, because to him we were against free speech. Right below me were flyers detailing the extent of Israeli war crimes against Palestinians, and how little the world still hears about their plight. He stated that he wasn’t interested in our campaign, and bid me farewell. For, of course we must have our standards.

(Rowan Atkinson speech)

There’s never been a more unshakeable dogma in my lifetime than that of Freedom of Speech.

The real test of a country’s standards is if it allows people to criticise one another, especially the regime. The foundation of Liberty and Freedom and Friberty, is the story of free expression, after all, if you want to know who has the power, just look at which group you’re not allowed to criticise. Right?

Well no, I’m here to say that Free Speech isn’t just some base, flatline, monolith from which all societies are to be judged like an angelical truth, its a political concept, thought up by human beings, subject to critique, and frankly is in great need of one.

Let’s start with something simple.

Your concept that Free Speech is good, is only possible if your opponent also agrees with you, i.e. they’re not going to kill you if you disagree.

So therefore if your opponent doesn’t ?? and will use aggression against you, then you can’t really argue for free speech can you?

The conditions around you need to be such that nobody is going to die.

Right, whats next, oh I gotta do the Hitler bit, right…

Y’know the story, Weiner Republic, Full suffrage, large democracy, massive instability and debt caused from the prior war, enter the Nazis, and the German Communist party. Yes everyone seems to forget that the Commies were there too, headed by Ernst Thalmann, and at their peak gained 16% of the vote in 1932. Whilst Ernst was forward in his Anti-Fascism, the Social Democrats, and their newspapers, didn’t seem to understand the concept of a united front, they refused to confront the Fascists in an effective manner and simultaneously denounced the KDP as being a bunch of Muscovites, sporting the famous Iron Front symbol, The third arrow originally meant Anti-Communism, mind.

The SPD’s failure to effectively confront Fascism aided Hitler’s rise to power, sent the KDP underground, and Ernst to 11 years in the hole, followed by a firing squad.

So don’t tell me free-speech exists in vacuum, it doesn’t. In this video we’ll ask the necessary further questions.

Who dictates the media, who controls which advertisements we see, which views are more profitable? Does the removal of speech in given scenarios serve a common good? And if the enlightenment was correct why did Liberalism fail in its mission?

(Rowan Atkinson)

This clip was one of the first main intro points for me as well as many others into the realm of Super Free Speech, and it’s strange looking back just how dated it is. It’s not like we didn’t have the arguments back then, but moreso that nobody really cared, we were all swept up in the dogma, to challenge free speech would be on the same level as strangling a baby.

Anybody can go around today and talk about the joy of free speech, but it means nothing to a person who has no power with that speech, Freedom to Beg? That's not a freedom; that’s institutionalised sadism.

I’m not a believer in Maslow’s hierarchy but hypothetically, this really wouldn’t go number 2, it’d be right down at number… 27. Why do I say this? Well in the words of some philosophy guy people say I look like, “No rights matter if you’re dead”.

Food, Water, Healthcare, and Housing. These are all things you need in order to survive, in other words fulfil the other things that we consider ‘rights’ - rights that are worth struggling for. And despite the fact that the millions end up dying from the lack of these rights, even when they’re universally agreed upon, ever notice how this struggle goes very very quiet… Suspiciously quiet.

Sargon on the Socialists

I wonder…??? I wonder why the left seems to be largely committed to these causes, it’s something you find scantly addressed in the middle and right spheres with the exception of private individual charity (OSCAR WILDE), and Carl may find himself wondering why it is that these ideologies can barely create a solid solidarity towards these topics.

You might be a Liberal and say “Yeah yeah, I support that too though” but fact remains there’s no confidence here.

I see no outpouring of condemnation coming from you when Politicians like Bolsonaro press forward their restrictive measures, unlike what you have to say about this powerless Redhead. Why is that?

Count Dankula, who interestingly I had a couple scuffles with a while back without realising it, last year taught his dog to do a Hitler Salute, and he got fined £800. Now that’s probably one of the most petty excuses for a sentencing I’ll admit, but again this isn’t about whether it was justified, it’s about people’s standards.

Dankula received enormous support from, well, everyone, and he’s now more famous than he ever previously was, enough to be at the forefront of the free-speech festival later that year, and even use his fame to help push the emergence of UKIP. This is attention that people would pay top dollar for, way more than £800. He should be proud that he got a court hearing.

Frankly, me and my colleagues didn’t really care about this whole thing too much, just ask my IWW friend who I was with when this all went down. What happened around the same time that did catch some of our attention though was the plight of the J20 protesters who got arrested back during Trump’s inauguration.

Some of these people are on the butchers list to serve 60 year sentences for standing against a president who’s, a real dick, like I get the whole Liberal opposition is fucking corny but still he’s a dick, they’ve all been dicks, he’s just continuing what every dick who ever stood on centre stage ever started, this is America, you think Bernie’s going to save you? You think reforming the democrats can change the number one imperialist power?

Apologies. If you’re at all concerned that I didn’t give a toss about Dankula’s pug joke, if you’ve ever had friends like him this stuff isn’t too surprising, I know these are highly political times but a guy who votes UKIP is really not our number one concern right now.

I didn’t give a toss, but I know somebody who did, Mike Stuchbury, who you’ll remember from his childish twitter ramblings and dealings with Watson. Who proclaimed that the left needs to stand with Free Speech, A free-speech that is largely in the teat of Right-leaning discourse.

Sargon who was there with him, earlier that year got de-platformed by lefty-liberals in his debate with Muke.

The dogma is enforcing itself here, the left is all supposed to throw up our hands in swich liquor, of which vertu engendered is the flour, and decide Whether we should allow freedom of speech to our enemies, or not allow it, when the actual thing we should be doing, is taking hold of the narrative and putting forward our own ideas as the new talking point of discussion, instead of fucking Nazi Pug.

“Hey, you, what gives you the right to determine the narrative?”

Thats a good question, the hegemonic propaganda of our status quo is already setting the narrative, Noam Chomsky “I’m bored bye”

How can I make this more interesting… Ah ha…

IT’S TIME FOR FILM THEORY!!1 WOOOO

The Pursuit of Happiness.

In 2006 Will Smith told the story of Chris Gardner, a black man who struggled through poverty, separation, and fatherhood whilst living in San Francisco.

He gets an internship with a sales company and despite having to put up with a lot, by the end of the film he passes and at this point, we’re supposed to feel happy and redeemed, but to those who’ve watched it (surely I’m not alone) was it really a happy ending?

I’ll say that I walked out of the viewing feeling very uncomfortable and sour, but why is that?

Well for starters, that Internship he got was a 6 month unpaid one, in the most expensive US city might have something to do with it.

Then he’s got to deal with his wife leaving him, then he’s got to take care of his son, then he loses his source of income, then he’s got to deal with eviction, sleeping rough, not sleeping at all, by the end of the movie sure he gets his redemption but the message of ‘when life gives you lemons, just keep getting pummelled with those lemons and don’t ask why’ ultimately seems hollow.

Contrast that a more traditionally Anti-establishment film which was made by a literal Communist, where the exploiters are treated as they should be and thats what comes across on screen, with surprise horse-dick, and while Happiness doesn’t treat them like saints, they sure don’t come across as devils either.

6 months of free labour he and 19 other people who did not make the cut that they are effectively giving away for free.

What about those other 19 people, who ever tells their story?

The way his superiors always act like total dicks pushing him around and getting him to be their lobby boy, they lost nothing. And now he’s going to work for them.

Is the message here supposed to be “Well if this guy can survive the moon falling on him, what the hell are you complaining about?” Actually yeah, I think that consciously or not, this is what’s being said… Don’t worry we’re getting to the point of all this.

The extent of exploitation is naked, yet in the way the movie is presented I’m inclined to agree to this, and take it into my home, and sleep with it.

Now name me as many pieces of media that regurgitate this same old theme of rags to riches through adversity, to look at the man on centre stage, yet pay no attention to the millions locked in a cage.

Sure, say it how you will, Art is merely what you make of it and there’s not necessarily any devious agenda being pursued at any time. That’s one perspective I guess, another might be that there’s no such thing as Art for Arts sake, it all gears itself to differing political lines.

In a society based on private, individual enterprise, it's no surprise that Art would also foster themes that would support society as the normal and natural, even if they appear on the surface as radical.

Case in point, well the entire Hollywood Catalog.

On the Waterfront is literally Mccarthyism on celluloid, The People vs Larry Flynt guises pornification and billionairedom with a story of libel and freedom of speech.

And ironically enough probably the worst offender is, well I’m gonna lose some of you now, Billy Elliot, the Movie.

In which 2/3rds of the way through Billy’s dad strike breaks as a way to pay for his son to go to a prestigious arts school, y’know rather than maybe having him stay and use his skills to improve, embolden and enliven the downtrodden community, rather than leaving it to die.

Jackie’s very sympathetic in his devotion towards his son, except Striking is caring for your family, you’re fighting for a better future, together, as one, and it’s thrown away in favour of a much more individualistic get out of your circumstances, go and live your dream.

Now I’ve read Lee Hall, I know he didn’t intend for this to come through, but he is also no more aloof than any of us, we’re all susceptible to this ‘Common Culture’.

Just see the way our ‘Common Culture’ infiltrates into how Communism is talked about, in 2015’s Trumbo. The Hollywood screenwriter who was blacklisted for 2 decades for being a member of Communist Party.

Could make for some groundbreaking stuff right?...

Well no, instead we’re left with a film that focuses entirely on freedom of expression, which is ironic because if they represented him truthfully it would’ve resulted in a much more nuanced movie.

All we get is a 2 minute scene talking about Communist ethics and god its done in the most sanitised, unradical, storybook tale way possible, that doesn’t in any possible regard represent who the actual Dalton Trumbo was.

“If a book or play or film is produced which is harmful to the best interests of the working class, that work and its author should and must be attacked in the sharpest possible terms.”

I think I have a case that profit incentives are steering the way in which media is presented…

We have no problem pointing out the subtle propaganda messages in Soviet children’s cartoons (Cheburashka) but reverse that onto our society, prepare for some awkward stares.

You may argue that none of what I’ve just spoken about here has anything to do with censorship of free expression but this is the problem, our notions of censorship are stuck firmly behind the Berlin wall, and thats far too simplistic not to mention outdated.

Undoubtably Coca-cola has a far greater reach of expression than I ever will be able to ascertain, what says who can speak on a public forum, decide the content of a documentary, of a publication, of a movie, or a political campaign?

If a book is blacklisted by all publishers for political reasons, what difference does it make having 1 publishing house or 100?

If 90% of the movie market alone is controlled by just 7 companies, what kind of advice is “Just start your own business”.

If we want to talk about the free flow of expression and information, what little are these flyers (Free Palestine) when Zionism has a whole nation, and 2 continents supporting it?

This is the kind of expression we’re dealing with today, not the voices of individuals, but of multinationals. The fact that we had in any way an outpouring of sympathies towards one of these companies, Sony, for having their movie The Interview possibly censored by DPRK agents is a testament to how lost in the plot we have become.

And if by chance the media cannot direct the status quo by monopoly, it brings out its tried and tested method.

Commodify it.

I present to you Guerrillero Heroico, this photograph was allowed such free spread not simply because its bloody badass, but because there was no IP designated upon it, by Korda’s intention as a Communist himself he agreed with the free-flow of art. And what did this result in at the behest of Capitalist Corporations? The pastiche of revolution, to be bought and sold many times over.

Take any form of media, word, an expression, it will be hoisted away, slapped on a shirt, and sold back to you at a handsome price. You cannot escape this.

The moment that this (my tattoo) becomes the new Che it loses all its power, resistance is reduced to at worst LARPing, at best Nerd Fandom, and the winners are the profiteers.

If profit is the aim of the game, the speech that is supported will inevitably favour that which nurtures the economy, not destroys it, unless in farce. Speech ain’t a level base of which a country is determined by, its an apparatus held by those that dictate the game.

This is why there is a necessity for us to control the narrative, control the message, because if we don’t, they’re still going to.

Obligations:

When armies with unequal numbers go into battle, a draw is a defeat for the lesser side.

Make believe it or not Radical Centrist politics have their political leanings as well, even if just by effect.

Look I like free speech, I love it, I’m a goddamn youtuber, but I’m not stupid, I know what’s coming, I know that groups would try and silence me if they could. That’s politics.

You might go “All we’re talking about is the legal sphere”. Firstly the legal is the political, pure ideology to say otherwise, but second it’s difficult for you to call yourself a fighter for free speech when as I’ve explained there’s sooo much more to it than simply the judicial.

Many proponents will even side-step the judicial boundaries anyway when monopoly becomes involved, and if I have to explain how Monopoly is not an externality of our system but an inherent part of accumulation then… sigh.

Strange how we’re usually all skeptical of an Economic Free Market but the Free marketplace of ideas unlocks your inner Libertarian.

Its when I see stuff like this that I begin wondering if this is all just a trend that will eventually die off when people realise the complexities of their circumstances. I remember just a few years ago how many Libertarians were speaking the merits of free speech until they discovered that methodological individualism wasn’t actually achieving their goals. I count down the days when Lauren Southern finally calls for limits on speech just like her limits on borders. After all freedom is not free it must be defended right?

And btw folks usually aren’t as brave to actively advocate limits so they’ll always present justifications, such as that these views are mental disorders, or they’ll destroy civilisation, or these people are Degenerates.

This is a historic moment in political discourse, at this point ultimately we’re interested in picking sides, and you’ll do this just as much as anyone will.

On the left we like to talk a lot about Left Unity. I’m not necessarily against the idea, but a lot of the time people make a religion out of it, glossing over the fact that many aspects of various factions (???) contradict. It might not be immediately obvious, but when push comes to shove these conflicts become very apparent. There are some principles in which each side certainly doesn’t see eye to eye.

“Politics is pervasive, everything is political and the choice to remain apolitical is usually just an endorsement of the status quo”

If it wasn’t obvious, I’m a Communist, yeah yeah say what you want, I believe in the liberation of those who do all the work through armed struggle based upon material conditions. I’m going to therefore be in favour of real mass culture, the stuff that gets people focused on achieving liberating aims instead of just appealing to markets. Its for this reason that I’m not interested in defending the views of right-wing nationalists, fascists, reactionaries… my enemies in other words, the ideas largely speaking which regress the people and they’re not interested in defending me either, wouldn’t expect them to.

If all you’re talking about is the centre, you’re gonna get flanked, sorry.

You might bump in when I denounce Dankula stating “His punishment showcases the system is at fault” and I would agree. This system is at fault, its been at fault since before our constitution was written, and it’ll never stop being at fault until you solve the contradictions.

Liberalism did fail, its ideals never came to fruition and that’s the reason why Socialists bring forth the praxis to achieve it, sometimes that’ll involve using words, sometimes it’ll involve lots and lots of guns, but let me tell you, you can’t always fight a war by playing nice, sometimes you have to use a diversity of tactics to achieve it.

Maybe we need 11 of them? (Shows book)

But thats more of a material answer and I know that most you don’t give a crap about some dead Chinese guy., but getting back to the original idea about responsibilities behind our speech, well, here’s something to think about.

So… here goes nothing.

If you’re a straight white male aged 11-16 in the UK and weren’t brought up to fit into the standard male dynamic, chances are you got picked on, sometimes a lot, sometimes that’s every day, not necessarily violence but words from numerous mouths are highly unnerving.

I did not have a particularly fun time adolescence. Every day was horrible, I never had a feeling going in that this would be exciting or, this would be a day where things would be different, everyday was a total black smudge with no end in sight.

Unlike other people, I never got to have a group that I fit into, so I had no escape, nothing to take my mind off things.

Looking back I don’t know why I bothered going in, I wasn’t getting amazing grades anyway.

When I went to Drama school and other clubs on the weekends and after school, I would also get picked on, but it wasn’t in spite, it was just general, friendly teasing. But there wasn’t a difference in my mind, because when you’ve had to deal with so much constant abuse, and paranoia, and humiliation 30 hours a week, it fucks you up.

So when Id say to the weekend buds “I dont like this” theyd go “Oh come on man its just a bit of fun, its okay, dont worry about it, its just a joke, its all okay”

Back then I didn’t have the nerve, I just put up with it, but if I could go back, Id say. No, actually its not Okay, because you don’t know for the life of me how much I have had to deal with this shit, to me that doesn’t come across like you’re being funny, like your laughing with me, it comes across like you’re a psychopath who wants to get pleasure out of my misfortune.

Of course the response to this would be obvious “Well what am I supposed to do? Just talk to you like a robot. You should just get over it, leave it in the past. Your making it harder for everyone” or some other faux-victimised response.

And sometimes y’know they might be right, maybe I should’ve not made worse a bad situation, but fact remains I still bleed.

To you, this is just having fun and games, to you and your other friends its normal, but to me its a threat.

Now today you can call me what you want I don’t care, I’m out of that place now and I’m all the better for it,

But even though some 7 or 8 years since then I’ve been able to recover, I still carry a hangover of it all, and it affected my decisions later on in life sometimes to a dire extent,

Its had the effect of making me feel both distrustful of people, and also like Im a burden to be around other people,

I never feel I should hang around for too long, I never want to take chances in friendship for fear I’ll embarrass myself, I say one thing out of tempo and suddenly flashbacks and an enormous shadow of mordor conjures over me. And I think most of all its been very difficult for me to express my emotions because I used to do it a hell of a lot.

Those 5 years were the single handed worst years of my life. And if you were at any point responsible for adding to that devastation and humiliation, then a large part of me wants to lash your goddamn skull inside out.

Because as trivial and generic as my story may be, that part of my life has been stolen from me, and those 5 years I will never get back.

So what’s the point of all this?

“Ossidents are sometimes surprised that, instead of buying a dress for their wife, the colonized buy a transistor radio. They shouldn't be, the colonized are convinced their fate is in the balance. They live in a doomsday atmosphere and nothing must elude them”

I want you to place the relatively minor experiences I received as a child, and translate those into other groups, victims of domestic abuse, victims of colonialism, racism, sexism, queer phobia. Like I said I’m out of that place now, but others aren’t, for many people they still live day to day in this ever pressing struggle, trying to just tell people “Please, just don’t do this”.

It’s not okay. But maybe together you’ll help me out with solving these problems?

My conclusion to this is simple,

Free Speech is not just something you can fling around to score political points, it doesn’t materialise simply because we all decide it should. If we want free-speech we need to break a few eggs to make an omelette.

We need to be sure that the conditions in society don’t proliferate toxic ideas that might even lead to the downfall of said society.

This very Tattoo that 90 years ago would’ve been Anti-Communist as hell has become a Pan-Left symbol against Fascism. Its living proof that with the correct methods the conditions of words, symbols, ideas can be resolved.

When class struggle subsides, when our social divides have been solved, when the conflict doesn’t oppose the existence of certain folks, then maybe, we can well and truly say that we can have free speech, and we’ll stand at a comedy show and yell “Yes, lets talk about those BEEP BEEEEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP” and be met with cheering applause from all sides. But until then, Don’t be a dick.

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squishyoongi933 · 7 years ago

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3, 12, 14, 20, 30, 33, 37

I LOVE YOU THANK YOU FOR ASKING IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG FOR ME TO ANSWER LMAO 3. What was the first song you heard by them?Do covers count?? If so it was their cover of teenage dirtbag if not then I believe it was out of my limit!!12. What is your favorite bromance?It used to be mashton but I’ve switched over to muke!!14. What is your favorite hair color on Michael?Probably the lilac hair!!! It’s my favorite color and for some reason I always associate that color with him anyways20. Who in the band do you think you’re most like and why?Hmmm I’m gonna say I’m a mix of ash and mike. Mike bc I’m reserved and can be really shy around people I don’t know that well but when I’m around people I’m comfortable with I’m crazy I’m all over the place having fun being goofy and VERY loud lmao and ash bc I feel like me and him are very similar in the way that if you try to come for people we love we don’t hold back we will rip you to shreds just with our words bc nobody’s messes with our people!!!!30. If you had 48 hours with your fave what would you guys do?You know I could there with this but imma keep it pg and say I’d really like to just get to really know him for him and hope that maybe something more came of it lmao lame I know but 🤷🏻‍♀️33. What is your favorite thing about each of them?Oh man ok are we talking physically or like personality wise?!? I’ll do both!! Ok ASH-his arms fucking KILL me like r u kidding me and I really love how protective he is over the rest of the band and won’t let anyone give them shit! CAL-his thighs fuck me up so bad sweet baby Jesus and I love how soft and sweet he is even when he’s not having the best day! LUKEY- his hair is so beautiful and all I want to do is run my hand through it ugh and I love how much of big soft fucking nerd he is it’s adorable MIKEY- we honestly don’t have the time for me to be able to explain how much I love him tbh but his lips fuck be up so bad they’re always SO fucking pink and soft looking and fuck all I want to do I kiss him 😩 and he is such a sweet loving and caring person his voice is amazing and I love him for actively talking about his mental health issues and he’s just amazing 37. If you could steal one thing from each of them (clothes, hats, etc) what would you take?OK SO ASH-I want that stupid ponies forever mlp shirt he used to wear I love it CAL-I REALLY want his drop dead shirt tbh LUKEY- I want that Rolling Stones leather jacket fuck MIKEY- he has this like olive green sweater that’s got holes in it but it’s even a little big on him and he looks so good in it and it looks so comfy and I want it NOW

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allsassnoclass · 3 years ago

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hi hazel! for the prompts how about "67. When One Stops The Kiss To Whisper “I’m Sorry, Are You Sure You-” And They Answer By Kissing Them More", i wanna say for mashton but if you want to write some muke that works as well i think! -taylor<3

@squishmichael I looooooooooooove mashton. just in case anyone forgot lol

mashton: when one stops the kiss to whisper "I'm sorry, are you sure you-" and they answer by kissing them more

"Michael?"

Michael blinks, then forces himself to look up from his computer and the seemingly endless code on displayed onscreen. Ashton is standing in the doorway, dressed for bed with boxers, a big t-shirt, and his glasses perched on his nose.

The only thing Michael needs less than the mistake in this program is the sight of Ashton in his glasses with his legs on display.

"Hey, Ash. What's up?"

"How long have you been working?" he asks rather than answering. "I called your name a few times before you looked up."

Michael sighs and rubs at his eyes. His own contacts should probably come out soon, but he knows that if he gets up now he's not going to want to sit down and do more work.

"I can't figure out where the error is," he says. "The client wanted the website done by Monday and I really didn't want to have to work this weekend."

Ashton hums and comes to stand behind him, putting his hands on Michael's shoulders and beginning to rub out some of the tension there. He's probably looking at the computer in an attempt to help even though he knows nothing about programming. Michael doesn't know how he got such a great roommate, but in his current state he might cry about it if he thinks on it too long.

Michael exhales, submitting himself to a brief break to let Ashton work his magic.

"You know," Ashton says, voice low and gentle, "you'll be more likely to catch the problem tomorrow when you're awake and rested verses now when you should be asleep. It's past midnight and you've been at it for hours."

He digs his thumb into a knot in Michael's shoulder. Michael lets out a sound before he can stop himself, leaning into the touch, feeling his muscles unravel under Ashton's hands.

"I don't want to," he groans. "I was going to sleep in tomorrow, then we have that thing with Calum later, and I need to do laundry. I'm running out of acceptable clothes."

"Don't worry about that," Ashton says. "I can throw your stuff in tomorrow."

"Thanks."

"And we're not meeting Calum until mid-afternoon. You can sleep in, then work a bit after lunch. If you still don't manage to find the problem, you have all of Sunday."

Michael hums. He doesn't want to admit that Ashton is right, but it's getting harder and harder to argue with him the longer this massage goes on. He feels like he could melt into a puddle right here in his chair, but he'd much rather do so in his bed, possibly while curled around Ashton.

"Come on, Michael," Ashton coaxes, leaning more into Michael's space. If Michael didn't know better, he'd say that Ashton is fully aware of the affect he has on him and using it for evil, but there's no way he would continue their easy-going intimacy if he was aware of Michael's true feelings.

Well, maybe he would. Ashton's cool, so he probably wouldn't ruin their friendship if he found out. Sometimes, Michael even lets himself read a little too far into things and consider the possibility that Ashton feels the same.

"Michael?" Ashton asks, hands stilling and jarring him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry," he says automatically. "Just thinking."

"Yeah, I think it's time for bed," Ashton says. "You weren't thinking, you were zoned out. I could feel you drifting off under me."

Michael fights down a blush, thankful at least that Ashton can't fully see his face.

"It's your fault for giving me a massage," he tries to protest. "You know how relaxing your massages are."

"All part of my evil plan to get you to stop working and come to bed," Ashton says, rubbing his thumbs in hypnotic circles on the back of Michael's shoulders. "It's for your own good."

Michael sighs again. He really should keep working, but Ashton's right. At this point he's probably overlooked the mistake five times without realizing, and he's not in the best mindset to continue now. The most effective use of his time would be going to bed, even if that means losing Ashton's attention until he wakes up tomorrow.

"I don't want to move," he says in a pitiful attempt to elongate this moment. Ashton snorts, leaning down to wrap his arms around Michael's shoulders in a hug. Michael hopes Ashton can't feel the way his heart speeds up with him draped over his back.

"Come on, Michael," he says, gently rocking them back and forth. "Moving is good for you! Moving means you get to go to sleep in an actual bed!"

"I can't," he says. "You'll have to carry me."

Ashton hums like he's actually considering it.

"I could try to fireman carry you, but honestly I don't think it'd go over well," he says. "Besides, I doubt it'd be very comfortable for you."

"Damn," Michael sighs.

Ashton releases him, pulling out Michael's chair and offering both his hands to tug him up. If Michael spends a bit longer than necessary drinking in the sight of him up close, he can blame it on being tired and a little out of it.

"Why do you hate me?" he groans dramatically, taking Ashton's hands and allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. Ashton doesn't release his hands immediately nor back away, so they're standing really close, closer than is properly acceptable for two roommates. It takes everything in Michael's willpower not to take one more half-step forward and lean against him.

"I don't hate you, Michael," Ashton says. "Not even close."

Ashton smiles, a gentle and private thing between the two of them. His eyes are soft, an emotion in them that Michael thinks he recognizes, one that takes his breath away.

Ashton's eyes flicker down to his lips, then back up to meet his gaze. Michael inhales, because he didn't hallucinate that. He knows that he's tired, but he's not that tired.

"Are-- did you just--"

He doesn't know what he's trying to ask, but thankfully he doesn't have to complete the thought, because Ashton is kissing him.

Michael has thought a lot about what it would be like to be kissed by Ashton. Would his lips be chapped or smooth? What would he taste like? Where does he like to put his hands? Would he be gentle or rough? Does he like to lead the kiss or does he prefer to follow his partner? Would Michael enjoy it because Ashton is particularly good, or just because it's Ashton?

Michael doesn't think about any of those things when he feels that first press of lips against his. His first immediate thought is holy shit, then his mind goes completely blank and he kisses back. There's no space for him to form cohesive thoughts because everything inside him kicks into overdrive. He might have been dead on his feet a second ago, but now his whole body is lit up like a live-wire, right down to the nerve endings in his fingers, which have somehow tangled themselves in Ashton's hair. It's beautiful and wonderful and he can't get enough, which is why he doesn't understand why Ashton is leaning back.

"Wait," Ashton says, breathless in a way that definitely makes Michael's heart skip a beat. "Sorry, are you sure you--"

He doesn't even dignify that with an eye-roll, just kisses Ashton again, letting out a pleased noise when Ashton pulls him closer by his waist. When they eventually have to take a breath neither of them go very far, foreheads almost touching.

"So," Ashton says, then clears his throat. "I don't hate you. Obviously."

"Yeah," Michael says. "I kind of got that."

Ashton giggles, genuinely giggles, and Michael can't resist kissing him again.

"You're supposed to be going to bed," Ashton says when they part again.

"I don't want to," he says. "I want to keep kissing you."

"Okay, what about this: you go take out your contacts and brush your teeth, then meet me back in my room. We can keep kissing right up until you fall asleep, then if you're still into it we can continue in the morning."

"I'll still be into it," Michael says. He leans back a bit more, waiting until he's fully caught Ashton's eye again to continue. "I've liked you for a long time, Ashton. I don't think I'm ever going to get sick of kissing you, but I definitely won't after only one night."

Ashton's smile leaves him just as breathless as the kisses did.

"Go get ready for bed," he says. "I'll wait for you."

Michael smiles and takes one more kiss with him for the road.

#my writing #mashton #drabble #i like this one #idk why i've suddenly turned michael into a work a holic in the last two prompts though lol #not sure what that's about #hopefully the next prompt will not include that and also it won't be late at night #that's my hope #but it fully depends on what the inspiration says

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all-the-fanfics-bc-im-indecisive · 7 years ago

Text

Rooftop | Muke AU

Summary: Michael takes a break from his best friend’s terrible college party and goes to get some air up on the rooftop, where he meets a puffy-eyed boy who’s ready to throw his life away.

Word count: 2,136

Warnings: Talk of suicide and mental illness, mentions of substance abuse

A/N: I’m not incredibly proud of this story but it’s all I really have and it’s not the worst. Also please tell me if I’ve said something wrong or if you think this is romanticising mental illnesses at all!! I tried to make it as real as possible but, although I struggle with a lot of mental illnesses, I’ve never come extremely close to suicide. So if you think I’m simplifying suicide too much or making it sound a lot better than it is, please tell me so I can fix it!

Michael looks around the overcrowded apartment. He hovers at the TV, avoiding the sweaty teenagers, drunk off their asses from watered down beer.

Calum is nowhere to be seen. Michael tries to spot him in the large crowd, with no luck. He guesses the boy is off chugging down a can of crappy alcohol or getting high with some minors upstairs.

He doesn't know why he allowed his best friend to throw this dumb party. He dreads having to clean the mess up afterwards, and he barely knows anyone in the apartment.

The air begins to feel hot and thick as more people pile into the apartment, and Michael starts to sweat. He takes a few deep breaths before beginning to push through the people closing in around him.

Thankfully, most of the people Calum invited were college freshmen or high school seniors, so Michael can see over their heads pretty easily.

He makes his way to the front door, avoiding everyone who tries to grind on him as he walks past. He almost gets a cup of punch thrown on him, but jumps out of the way just in time. He sighs in relief. He has a white shirt on, and absolutely does not want to be half naked in a crowd of horny teenagers.

Finally, he's at the front door. He slips out into the hallway as quickly as he can, immediately taking in a huge gulp of air. He's always hated parties. Even his birthday parties. It's not even the overcrowding. Drop him in a festival ground? He feels right at home. Throw him into an overpacked concert? Brilliant. But parties? Absolutely not.

He shakes his head and walks off through the hallway.

Humming to himself, he makes his way to the rooftop. The stairs are a pain in the ass, but he trusts them more than the rickety old elevator. And anyway, it's worth it. The view from the rooftop is incredible.

He walks up the stairs for what feels like an hour, sighing in relief when he reaches the door at the top step.

He pushes open the heavy door and smiles at the cool, fresh air. Even if it smells like city smog, it's a hell of a lot better than sweat, beer, and Calum's dirty laundry.

His smile drops instantly. His heart jumps into his throat.

A boy stands on the ledge overlooking the bustling road below, his toes peeking over the edge.

His hands cradle the back of his neck as he gulps in air. His intentions of being on the roof are obvious.

Slowly, Michael creeps over to the shivering boy, wondering if he can somehow grab him before he does anything drastic. But of course, he has no idea how to tiptoe and accidentally shuffles his feet along the cement, causing the boy to jump three feet in the air(which sends a wave of anxiety through Michael's body as the boy is dangerously close to the edge already)and turn quickly to face Michael.

Tears stream down his face. He sobs loudly to himself, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his denim jacket. He backs away slightly, taking a tiny step towards the edge.

"Hey, hey." Michael says softly, holding his hands up.

"G-go away." The boy stutters, hiccuping. "I'm serious, go away."

"I'm sorry." Michael replies. "I just came to get some air."

He takes a step forward, but freezes when the boy backs away from him.

"Whoa, it's okay." he says, trying his best to keep his voice soft. If he so much as looked at this boy the wrong way, he would be soaring off the side of the building.

"What's your name?" He asks, staying firmly in his spot.

The boy doesn't reply, he just stares at Michael through huge, swollen eyes. Michael repeats the question.

"I...Luke."

"Luke." Michael smiles. "That's a nice name. I'm Michael."

Luke's face goes red as more tears pour out of his eyes.

"Can I ask why you're up here, Luke?"

He shrinks into his jacket.

"It's okay. You can tell me." Michael tries to soothe him as best he can.

"I-I..." He sniffles and chokes on a sob. "I can't."

"That's okay." Michael's heart races, his brain running a million miles an hour. "But I need you to step off the ledge, alright?"

Luke shuffles his feet closer to the edge of the building. He shakes his head.

Shit, shit, shit. Michael scolds himself.

"I promise, if you come down, it'll all be okay." Words fall out of his mouth. He can't think of what to say to help this poor boy.

"You don't know that!" Luke yells.

"No, no. I do." Michael says in a whisper.

The wind whips around the two. Luke's hair flies into his face.

"Trust me, I do." He smiles softly. "I wanted to do the exact same thing, three years ago."

Luke shakes his head again. "You don't understand." He lets out a single sob.

"I do. I was running up the stairs to the top of the apartment where me and my mom lived when my friend caught me and stopped me." Michael rushes.

Luke seems to have frozen in place, listening to Michael. He takes a deep breath, praying the boy stays where he is until he can find a way to get him down.

"Every single university that I applied for rejected me. After six years of fighting to get all A's, putting my grades before my mental health, taking extracurriculars and working two jobs just to prove I was good enough, it turned out I wasn't." He explains. Luke's feet stay where they are. Michael continues his story. "School, university, and work had always been the most important things in my life, and then I had nothing. I thought if I didn't get into university, I had no purpose. No future.

"So, after weeks of crying in my room, destroying furniture and tearing up denial letters, I decided that I'd rather be dead than worthless. So I grabbed my cigarettes and a handful of painkillers and ran off."

Luke watches Michael intently, as if he's not the one on the edge of the building.

"I sent my best friend a text telling him not to be surprised if I wasn't at school the next day, but I guess he knew me too well. He darted over from his house next door, and the next thing I knew, he was grabbing me, pulling me down the stairs, wrestling the painkillers out of my hand."

Luke takes a deep, shaky breath.

"He screamed at me for being an idiot. We were both crying, sobbing into each other's arms. I told him I had no purpose, he told me that that was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard. Finally, and hour and a half later, I let him drag me back to my apartment."

Michael sighs, quickly wiping his eyes and shaking his head.

"He cancelled his first year of university for me. Promised me he wouldn't leave my side until I got help. I went to therapy, so much therapy, saw psychologists, took a bunch of anti-depressants. I even stopped smoking. By the time I got on my feet, it was half way through the year. And that whole time my best friend was helping me make more university applications, making me send them out everywhere, even though I had no faith in myself. And then, after I had gotten out of therapy, he packed our stuff and we flew over to the UK. For the rest of the year, we travelled Europe."

There's a long silence. The two boys seem to have forgotten the situation they're in.

"And when we got home a few days before Christmas, I got a letter from NYU. An acceptance letter. We were so happy. We cried and screamed and poured cheap champagne all over each other. And he was going to Brooklyn College, which meant we could share an apartment."

Michael looks up. Luke stares directly into his eyes.

"I've been in uni for two years. I'm studying music composition and game design and gender and sexuality studies and I've never been happier. And that's because I didn't die that night. Do you know how much I would've missed out on? If I'd done it? I wouldn't have seen how incredible Europe is, or gone to any insane college parties. I wouldn't have met the amazing people I have now. I might've even killed my best friend. I don't know."

He finishes his story in a rush and suddenly it's as if time has unfrozen itself. The wind picks up again, Michael can hear the roar of the busy road below, Luke shuffles his feet back and forth.

"Please come down." Michael says softly.

Once again, Luke shakes his head. "No, I...I can't. You got better, your life got better, but mine won't."

Michael takes a deep breath. "How do you know? You won't be able to find out if you jump."

Luke is so close to the edge, his heels dangle dangerously off. He doesn't bother wiping away the tears that fall down his face and neck.

"Who's the most important person in your life?" Michael asks frantically while still trying his best to act calm. "Who do you love more than anything?"

Luke sniffles.

"My mom." He says quietly after a minute.

"What's she gonna think tomorrow? When the cops come to her door and tell her what happened? Did you leave her a note?"

"No." He whispers.

"What if she blames herself? What if she thinks she's done something wrong? She'll have to explain what happened a million times over when someone asks where you've gone. She won't know what to do with herself."

"Sh-she'd pick herself up. She always does." Luke's voice cracks.

"Do you want to put her through that? All the medication, the therapy?"

"I-I..."

"She might pick herself up, but it's not gonna happen overnight. After my mom found out what happened, she became an alcoholic, and she had to go to AA for almost two years. She still struggles now. And I didn't even get as far as the roof. She's so scared. She locks the bathroom cabinets with padlocks, she doesn't let me near the knives in the kitchen, and any time I'm home, she's checking on me constantly. Every few minutes, she runs into my room, just to make sure I'm okay. All I did was grab some pills and spontaneously run to the roof and now she's terrified that I'm gonna do it again.

"I don't want anyone to go through what my mom had to. It sucks, watching someone hurt themselves over something you did. It really sucks. Don't make your mom do what I made mine do. Don't let her waste away like that."

Luke doesn't move. He sobs loudly, his eyes not straying from Michael's face.

"I'm scared." He cries loudly. "I'm scared of what'll happen if I come down."

"Just keep your eyes on me." Michael says soothingly. "Can I come over to you? Please?"

Hastily, he takes a small step forward. Luke stays. He takes another step. Luke still stays.

"You're okay. Just take a little step towards me."

Slowly, Luke shuffles his feet along the concrete. It's only a few minuscule steps, but Michael's stomach begins to stop twisting into ferocious knots.

"That's it." He says with an encouraging smile. He takes a few more steps towards the boy. "Just keep looking at me. Don't focus on anything else."

Luke nods and takes a few more steps forward. He slowly gets closer to Michael.

As soon as he can reach him, Michael quickly stretches out his arms and grabs Luke by his jacket, pulling him as close as he can. Relief floods through him. He sighs, muttering a barely audible 'thank god' under his breath.

Luke's head hits his chest and he begins to sob into Michael's shirt. Michael stands there, stroking his hair as if the two have known each other for a lifetime.

"You're okay, you're okay." He repeats over and over.

Luke's sobbing has turned into a strange mix of crying and strangled screaming. His nails dig into Michael's back painfully, but Michael can barely feel it, absorbed in making sure the boy can't get out of his grip in any way, though he doesn't seem like he wants to anyway.

They stand there for ages. Luke's throat burns from screaming, his eyes almost sealed shut from the mix of new and old tears, Michael is almost certain the little stinging crescent moons on his back are bleeding and his back aches from bending down to hold on to the smaller boy, but neither of them care.

After Luke's screaming has died down somewhat, Michael takes a long, deep breath.

"Do you live in the apartment?" He asks quietly.

Luke nods simply, gulping in air.

Slowly, the two make their way off the rooftop and down the stairs, clinging on to each other for dear life.

Australian suicide hotline: 13 11 14

American suicide hotline: 1-800-273-8255

U.K suicide hotline: 08457-90-90-90

Canadian suicide hotline: 1-800-448-1833

New Zealand suicide hotline: 5222-999/0800-111-777

French suicide hotline: 01-45-39-40-00

If you’re from any other country, please look up your national suicide hotline online and call if you need help. And talk to your close friends/family about what you’re going through. Get the help you need.

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asht0ns-world · 6 years ago

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ALRIGHT FRAN FIRST OF ALL HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY !!!!!

Finally 18 ! I hope you have the best day ever! And I hope this whole post makes your day even better!!

SO HERE I GO !!! I have some Bromance for you, because like lets be honest the Luke + the other boys bromance is adorable and hot af

alright so let’s first take a look at Lashton and the dorks that they are. I love them so much (I wish I found the gif of them dancing and doing air guitars in of their kitchens bc that’s also prime Lashton dorkiness)

and then to kill you we go from dorks to absolute we-will-fuck-you-up-looking. LIKE WTF THIS PIC DOES THINGS TO ME !!!

and as a Lashton conclusion I had to add a good ol’ Bandana pic, bc I mean this is just cute as FUCK ! I mean look at them, their adorable human beings

now on the topic of HOT ..... We have C A K E .... this is probably the one that killed me the most tbh. You do not understand how many hot pics there are of Cal and Luke together, its actually ridiculous. So pls suffer with me

I’m dead ok?! I’m not gonna add anything to that because that pic speaks for itsself

as well as this one.... I mean look at cals face and the lanky baby that is luke looking like the most adorbale human being ever to walk this earth

Oh yeah the giggly boys back at it again (Let’s also pls all remember the way Luke totally lost it at Cals joke in the video bc that was adorable af)

and last but not least on my CAKE Part of the post we have this masterpiece. I dont think this needs an explanation 😭😭

also since it’s almost christmas MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS from this adorable Muke pic... look at Lukes adorable face and his hair I cannot cope

so that’s it from me !

Love you so much Fran, and I really hope you have an amazing birthday. Here’s so 18 being the best one yet !!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

And now comes Hannah’s part to fck you up with 2015 Luke (it’s intense okay ?!)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY FRAN!

I doubt you’ll be shocked to know that you have a massive bday post coming your way!

I am so so happy you came to me a few months ago to chat! You have become one of my dearest friends, the friend that gave me the push to make a group chat and brought TRIBESOS into our lives. I AM A TRIBEMOM BECAUSE OF YOU AND I LOVE YOU SO SO MUCH!! I hope you love this post as much as we have loved making it! (Because all of us were lowkey swerving into Luke’s lane trying to provide you with quality content 😅)

Now I’d say you know me pretty well, so you KNOW the only thing I potentially love more than Michael Clifford, are BULLDOGS. Let’s appreciate our Queen Petunia and Prince Charming OKAY?!

LOOK AT THAT SMILE. Luke with Petunia makes my heart explode because our babe just looks so happy and he deserves to be happy EVERY DAY.

Also, the way Petunia is looking at him. Same.

LOOK AT THAT. SHE IS SMILING TOO. THE LOVE THEY HAVE FOR ONE ANOTHER IS SO REAL. I AM MELTING.

THEY HAVE MATCHING FRECKLES. IM CRYING. Also highkey trying to not stare at Luke’s face and cry because goddamn it he is beautiful

The way he looks at her KILLS ME.

How much he misses her when he’s gone breaks my heart. I literally cannot wait for them to reunite, I am ready to he emotionally wrecked for the next 3-6 months.

I honestly don’t know who I’m more jealous of, Luke or Petunia.

I obviously had a lot more than 10 photos of them because they are my favorite together okay? I can just feel the love in every picture and it melts me.

Okay few things here, can we appreciate Luke’s legs and shoulders and arms pls??? ALSO I love that Petunia is such a team player, she’s just along for the ride like YES DAD, GOTTA STAY FIT.

He loves her so much. She loves him so much. I love them so much. I know you love them so much.

Okay wowzers I’m literally crying. Make sure you check out the links at the top THE WAY LUKE TALKS TO HER IS MY MOST FAVORITE THING ON THIS PLANET OKAY?! SORRY MICHAEL.

Happy 18th Birthday Fran, my love!!

Now I’ll pass it off to Steff with some 2016 LIP RING ERA GODLY-NESS

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calummwhatchasay · 8 years ago

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Fuck, In Every Sense of the Word (cashton&muke)

1. this is based off a post on this website but idk where it is 2. so fucikgn fluffy 3. also kinda long im sorry 4. (my grammar is good in my writing, this is the lazy part)

-----

The busboy is really cute. Like. Fuckign. Okay. It’s fine, really. Luke isn’t even staring. (Except he totally is.) Deep breaths. A baseball cap sits backwards on his head and the tips of his hair are bleached, but his roots have grown out and his natural brown color shows. His green eyes have glazed over a bit as he wipes the same table for the fifth time.

“Hi! It’s nice to meet you, my name is Ashton. I’m your best friend and am not anywhere near that table in the corner. If you could maybe listen to me complain about my History lecture, that would be awesome.”

“Fuck off. Besides, I’ve heard you complain about your lecture a million times. I’ve never seen him before. Though, I wouldn’t mind seeing him again.”

“Thirsty much? Maybe chill a little.”

“Can I get you all anything to drink?” A waiter with brown eyes and a name tag reading ‘Hello! My name is none of your business’ asks.

“Um-I, um, yes, we’d, er-” Ashton stutters continuously while trying to take his eyes off the waiter long enough to look at the menu.

“Ashton, you look a little flushed, are you feeling okay?” Luke asks Ashton, his laughter barely contained by mock-concern. “Why don’t you get an iced coffee, to help you cool off. And for me,” Luke grins at the waiter, and then looks back at Ashton, “tea.”

“Alrighty then. I’ll be back with your drinks in just a minute.” The waiter beams at the two.

Once the waiter’s ass has disappeared behind the doors to the kitchen, Ashton reverts his attention to Luke’s shit-eating grin. A quirk of Luke’s eyebrow has the contented smile on Ashton’s lips contorted into a grimace. “Fight me.” Luke’s grin only grows.

“Shut up.”

“Leave.”

“Let me live.”

“I’m bored of this conversation.” Luke sighs dramatically.

“I’m bored of you.”

Luke ignores Ashton’s weak attempt at an insult. “Entertain me.”

Ashton groans but concedes, inevitably. “Fine. Let’s play a game.”

“Okay, what game.”

“I don’t know! Do I have to do everything around here?” Ashton throws up his hands.

“Well… I don’t know how to put this. But, uh, yes. Remember? In the car on the way over here you said it yourself. ‘Luke, you are so useless. I swear, I have to do everything myself.’”

“Okay, okay, shut up.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that to me in half as many minutes.”

“Shut up.” Luke glares, but lets him continue. “What about Truth or Dare?”

“Are we 13 and at a sleepover?” Luke questions, unimpressed.

“In terms of maturity? Yes, yes we are.”

“We are not playing Truth or Dare in the middle of a restaurant.”

“Never Have I Ever?”

“We know literally everything about each other.”

“Fuck, Marry, Kill?” Luke ponders this for a second, attempting to come up with a legitimate reason not to play.

“We really are as mature as 13-year-olds, aren’t we?” He murmurs, shaking his head in exasperation.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Okay, let’s start easy. The Chrises: Hemsworth, Evans, Pratt.”

“This is easy?” Luke mutters, eyes wide. Ashton cackles in a way that’s a lot scarier than it should be. “Fuck, um. Fuck, uh…”

“I can’t tell if you’re trying to decide who to fuck, or you’re just generally stressed.”

“Okay, um. Marry Evans, fuck Hemsworth, and, oh god, no! I guess kill Pratt. I don’t want to do that! This sucks, this is the worst.”

“I would fuck Evans, marry Pratt, kill Hemsworth.”

“I couldn’t kill Hemsworth! I wouldn’t.” Luke puts hand on his forehead, in a somewhat ridiculous fashion. “Okay, how about Hayley Williams, Selena Gomez, Shailene Woodley.”

“Wow, okay. Um…” Ashton pauses, scrunching up his face in thought. “Yea, fuck Selena, marry Hayley, kill Shailene.”

Luke tsks. “Marry Shailene, fuck Hayley, kill Selena.”

“I’ve got one! Lucy, Franklin, and Peppermint Patty from Peanuts.”

“You are sick-minded.” Luke says, glaring across the table. Ashton’s lips spread into a wide grin, and he lets out a slight chuckle. “Fuck Peppermint Patty, marry Franklin, kill Lucy.” Luke says with a decisive nod.

“That was an awful quick decision for such a,” Ashton makes air quotes with his fingers, “‘sick’ group.”

“What about you?”

“Easy. Fuck Lucy, marry Franklin, kill Patty.”

“Franklin just seems like husband material, right?”

“Oh yea, definitely.”

“Um, here are your drinks.” The waiter interjects, as he returns with the drinks. It’s as if someone’s painted a pink stripe across Ashton’s cheeks, his blush is so bright.

“Thanks.” Ashton mutters into his lap.

“Yea, thanks so much, None of Your Business.” The waiter looks somewhat offended before he realizes Luke is just reading his name tag.

“Right. Would you all like to order?” Luke looks to Ashton to see if he’s chosen what he’s going to eat. He’s still gawping at the waiter like he’s Jesus Reincarnate.

“You know, we haven’t even looked at our menus. Could you come back in a few?” The waiter smiles graciously before making his way back to the kitchen.

“Get your shit together, Ashton.” Luke leans across the table to (not-so) lightly hit him with the menu that has yet to be opened.

“Leave me alone? What did I do to deserve this? I am so nice and kind all the time?” Luke frowns at him, completely unconvinced. “Shut up.” Ashton says, sticking his tongue out.

“I didn’t even say anything!” Luke throws up his hands, entirely too done with his best friend.

“Whatever. What do you want to eat?”

“Um. Um, I think, uh…” Luke trails off, not even looking at his menu.

“What are you-” Ashton turns to see what Luke is staring at and finds the same busboy from earlier, now helping their waiter with a big order at another table. “Oh.”

The two boys sit in silence, each trapped in their own minds. The waiter and the busboy are returning to the kitchen far too quickly, and Ashton has turned his attention back to deciding what to eat. He looks up to ask Luke if maybe they ought to split a pizza? But Luke is still staring at the doors to the kitchen, lost in thought.

“I’m not saying you can’t talk but…” Ashton grabs Luke’s tea and takes a sip.

“Oh, fuck off.” Luke grumbles. Ashton laughs, but gives Luke his drink back.

“Do you want to split a pizza?”

“Only if there are banana peppers on it.”

“Deal.”

“Fuck, marry, kill, Elmo, Cookie Monster, Oscar the Grouch.”

“Luke, what the fuck.”

“Says Mr Peanuts Characters.”

“At least they’re human!” Ashton exclaims.

“Pick.”

“Fuck Cookie Monster, marry Elmo, kill Oscar.” Ashton sighs, dejected.

“Really? Cookie Monster?” Luke looks genuinely surprised.

“I mean, yea, I’d fuck Cookie Monster.” Ashton shrugs.

A cough prevents Luke from further probing. “Um… Are you all ready to er, order?”

Luke breaks eye contact with Ashton to look at their waiter, who’s nervously fiddling with his pen. Ashton sits stock still. The only way Luke knows he’s alive is the way his face pales when their waiter first speaks, and then reverts back to the bright pink that Ashton seems to usually flush when their waiter comes around.

“Yea, yes we do. We’ll have a medium pizza with banana peppers and…” Luke glances at Ashton to see if there are any more toppings he’d like, “and that’ll be all.” Luke smiles at the waiter before handing him their two menus.

“Alright, it’ll be out in about fifteen minutes.” The waiter starts to turn back to the kitchen, but rotates back quickly, “I would fuck Cookie Monster too, by the way.” He then quickly returns to the kitchen.

“Well that was the worst thing that’s ever happened in the world, ever.”

“Maybe you’re exaggerating a tiny bit?”

“No, most definitely not.”

“Fuck, marry, kill-”

“No.”

“Why not?” Luke pouts, jutting out his bottom lip.

“Because, Luke. Stop being like this.”

“No, I don’t understand, Ash.” Ashton glares at Luke, but fails to respond. “Can you please explain?”

“Luke, I swear…” Ashton sighs, dropping his head into his hands.

“Fuck, marry, kill, our waiter, the busboy, and, um…" Luke pauses, unsure of who to add to his list. He searches the restaurant for someone attractive enough to make Ashton squirm. He glances past Ashton and catches a glimpse of his reflection in the window. “And me.”

“Hmm, okay.”

“If you say kill me, we’re going to have to fight.”

“That’s not much of a threat, we both know you would lose.”

“Shut up. Answer.”

“That’s a bit contradictory, isn’t it?”

“Whatever. Shut up. Fuck off. Answer.”

Ashton chuckles, but answers all the same. “Kill the busboy, fuck the waiter, and marry you.”

“You would kill the busboy?” Luke gasps. “Wait." Luke holds up a hand, as if physically asking to Ashton to stop. “You would marry me?” Luke puts his hands over his heart. “I’m flattered.”

“I change my mind, I’m marrying the waiter, fucking the busboy, and murdering you with a blunt instrument, so it’s extremely painful.”

“Honestly, I can’t blame you. The busboy is beautiful. I want him to have my children.” Luke nods in earnest. Ashton smirks.

“What?” Luke’s eyebrows knit together. “Is there tea on my face?”

“No, no.” Ashton’s smile only seems to grow, “You’re just so whipped for someone you’ve never met.”

“I’m not whipped!” Luke flushes.

“Mhmm. Your blush disagrees.”

“Shut up.”

“Nah.” Ashton shakes his head. “Fuck, marry, kill: Busboy, Waiter, me.”

“Fuck the busboy, marry you, kill the waiter.” Luke replies after a breath. Ashton quirks an eyebrow.

“Oh? You aren’t going to marry the busboy.”

“Well, it’s like you said... I barely know him. He could just be a really hot serial killer. You and I, our marriage would be loveless, but I wouldn’t be dead. And I would just have multiple sidechicks.”

“Or sidedicks.”

“Or sidedicks.” Luke agrees.

Ashton reaches across the table to reach the salt and spills Luke’s drink everywhere. “Ashton! What the fuck! What the hell were you even going to salt?!”

“My, um, coffee?”

“Why are you being so wei-”

“Excuse me,” Ashton raises his hand, waving someone over, “would you mind helping us clean this up?”

Within seconds, the blondish brunette is standing at the pair’s table, a towel in hand and a rosy tint on his cheekbones.

“I would love to help, but I need to use the bathroom.” Ashton beams, a glint in his eye.

“Ashton.” Luke spits, gritting his teeth.

“I really have to pee, Luke.” Ashton offers Luke a very fake pout and leaves the booth.

“Ashton Fletcher Irwin!” Luke all but shouts after him. The busboy rocks back and forth on his heels.

“My company really isn’t that bad, y’know. And I’m not a serial killer.” He shrugs, starting to mop up the mess on the table.

“I-I didn’t think, I just- um, sorry, I’m-” Luke stammers, unable to string words together in a sensible order.

“Shh...” The busboy puts a finger to Luke’s lips.

“Er...” Luke sits there, listless. The busboy moves around dishes and continues to soak up the tea. All Luke can do is sit there like a dumbass, staring at the sharp angle of the boy’s jawline and thinking about how warm the boy’s hand was.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just- You were stammering, and I- well, I-” Luke interrupts to busboy, putting a finger to his lips.

“Shh.” The busboy’s lips curve into a (really cute, oh my god) smile. Luke pulls his hand back to his lap. His cheeks are pink again.

“Have you got a name?”

“Y-yea. I’m Luke.”

“Luke,” The boy pulls his eyebrows together, “Suits you. I’ll tell your waiter to bring you a new tea.” And then the mysterious busboy turns tail and walks back to the kitchen.

“So.” Ashton says, sliding back into his seat.

“So.” Luke stares across the table at Ashton. “How was your piss?”

“Jesus, you’re petty.”

“And you’re a little bitch, but what else is new?”

“I’m not saying I hate you, but...”

“I change my mind. I’m marrying the busboy and killing you.”

“What’s his name?”

“Who?”

“The busboy. What’s his name.”

“I, er, don’t know.”

“You didn’t ask for his name. You talked to him for like five minutes and you didn’t get his name.”

“I was busy!”

“Doing what?” Ashton all but screeches, “Daydreaming?!”

“Maybe.” Luke mutters.

“Honestly.” Ashton shakes his head.

“Here’s your pizza guys.” The waiter puts the pizza down, “Your tea,” He puts Luke’s tea on the table in front of him, “and, Ashton, do you want a refill?” He starts chewing on his pen, looking intently at Ashton.

“You, um, you know my- er, um... no. Thank you. No thank you. But, a water would be nice?”

“Sure thing!” The waiter is a little too excited to bring a customer water in Luke’s opinion, but Ashton is also far too nervous to order one. They just might be a match made in heaven. The waiter heads back towards the kitchen.

“You didn’t get his name?! What were you doing? Daydreaming!”

“Shut up.” Ashton groans.

“Let’s just eat, yea?”

“Whatever.” Ashton grumbles, taking two slices. Luke rolls his eyes, grabbing a few slices of his own.

“Here’s your water!”

“Thank you, um, thanks so much.” The waiter stands there a few seconds too long, just looking at Ashton.

“Right.” He straightens his back, as if knocking himself out of stupor, “If you need anything, I’ll be over there.” He points to the kitchen. “So... yea.”

“Wait! Who should I ask for? If I need something.”

“Calum. I’m Calum.” And he turns around and doesn’t quite sprint back to the kitchen.

“You two are sickening.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“You got his name though. I envy you that.”

“Chill. Eat your pizza.” Ashton grabs a third piece.

“God, you’re annoying when you’re hungry. And when you’re not. You’re actually just always annoying.”

“Wow, thanks. Remind me to never ask you to be my wingman ever.”

“I have a feeling you won’t need a wingman after today.”

“What’s that meant to mean?”

“That was redundant.”

“And that was irrelevant. Are you going to really going to kill me? Is that why I won’t need a wingman? Because, it’s just a game. You’re not actually supposed to fuck, marry, and kill the people you say you will in the game.”

“Shut up. I was just trying to say I think you and Calum,” Luke does a little dance with his eyebrows that just makes Ashton uncomfortable, “might be thE START OF SOMETHING NEW!” Ashton puts his head in his hands because why, of all people, is this idiot his best friend? “No, but seriously,” Luke pokes him, “I think he likes you.” Luke says, finishing his third piece of pizza.

“Yea?”

“Yea.”

“What if he’s straight.”

“I think he’s about as straight as a shape with a 2πr perimeter.”

“Did you just fucking say that.” Luke shrugs at Ashton’s appalled expression. “I hate you.”

“The feeling is mutual.” Luke finishes his fourth slice.

“Dessert?” Calum asks, coming over to their table. Luke glances at Ashton. No response. If he plans on asking this boy out anytime soon, he needs to work on his voice box functionality when their waiter comes around.

“I think the check will do. Should we bring it back there, or...?” Luke asks as Calum hands him the check.

“I’ll come grab it.”

“Thanks, Calum.” Luke smiles. “You know,” he says turning to Ashton, “if you ever intend to make a move, you need to actually speak. As of current, I’m pretty sure he thinks I like him, which couldn’t be farther from the truth.”

“Hell no, Luke. Get your hands off my man!”

“Okay, a) calm down, b) people are staring, so c) calm down more. D) I don’t like him, e) he isn’t your man,” Luke puts his pointer finger up at Ashton’s indignant expression, “f) yet, and g) my hands aren’t anywhere near him.”

“Jesus this isn’t kindergarten, you and your alphabet need to chill. Also, he will be my man, and your hands better never be anywhere near him.”

“Thank you all for coming to eat with us!” Calum beams as Luke hands back the check and two twenties.

“You owe me twenty bucks Ashton. And I believe you owe this gentleman a thank you.” Luke stands up to leave. “I’ll be in the car, if you ever manage to open your mouth.”

“Fuc-”

“Ashton Fletcher! Language! Please do not use expletives in public, there could be children about!” Ashton just glares as Luke exits the restaurant.

“Ashton, I am so sorry,” Calum wrings his hands together, “I’ll be right back, I just have to take of something real quick. Please wait?” Calum asks, a worried expression plaguing his chiseled features.

“Of course.” A smile graces Ashton’s lips, and it’s bright in the way that reminds Calum of the sun, but soft in the way that reminds him of it setting on the ocean.

Calum rushes back to the kitchen, and less than a minute later, he and the busboy are walking back out at Olympic speed. The busboy continues towards the exit and Calum makes his way back to Ashton.

“Sorry, I kind of...” Calum trails off when his gaze switches from the door to Ashton.

“No, yea. Of course.” Ashton breaks himself out of the trance he seems to fall into every time Calum is around.

“Fletcher, huh?”

“Do we have to talk about that? I’d really rather not.”

“Aw, c’mon! It’s cute.” Calum pauses as if he’s about to say something else, but he isn’t quite sure he should. “You’re cute.”

“I-” Ashton almost says he isn’t, but Luke’s been telling him he needs to learn to accept compliments, “Thank you.” The silence hangs in the air for a minute. “So, what’s your middle name.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would. Very much.”

“Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

“Oh? How much later?”

“A couple days, maybe. Over french bread and cheese that tastes expensive, but I got for free from my sister who works at a cheese shop.”

“Maybe at an overlook where we can watch the sunset. It’s a bit of a hike but,” Ashton looks Calum up and down, “I don’t think that’ll be a problem for you.” (And if Ashton is disproportionately proud of himself for not fainting, no one needs to know.)

“How’s Friday sound?” Calum grins.

“How’s I’ll pick you up at 7 sound?” Ashton grins back.

“Perfect.” Calum hands Ashton his phone and Ashton inputs his number.

“Text me.” Ashton turns around to leave, and congratulate himself on what may have been the most successful flirting of his life.

“Oi!” Ashton looks over his shoulder at Calum. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Luke paid?”

Calum lets his eyes drift down to Ashton’s butt, “Yea, but your tip was better.” He winks cheekily, and Ashton thinks he could get used to this.

5 minutes ago

Michael bursts through the doors to the parking lot. “Where, where, where!” He mutters, tugging at the short hair sticking out from his baseball cap. He spots broad shoulders and blond hair a couple of rows over. “Luke!”

Luke spins around, not knowing quite what to look for. “Busboy?” Luke looks confused, concerned, maybe a tinge hopeful, but Michael’s probably imagining that.

Michael maneuvers around the shoddy parking jobs towards Luke. “Hey. Hi.” He smiles, a tad shyer than before.

“Um, hi. Is everything okay?” Luke’s face pales for a second. “Ashton- Ashton isn’t hurt is he, because I-”

“No, he’s alright.” Michael puts his hand on Luke’s shoulder to calm him down, “I just wanted to- to talk to you.” Luke smiles, just a little.

“Yea? About what?”

“I know you’re a tea guy, but, I know this hole-in-the-wall coffee shop where they sometimes have music. I’ve heard it’s a pretty good place for first dates.”

“Were you going to ask someone out?” Luke asks. Michael honestly isn’t sure whether he’s kidding, or if he honestly doesn’t know Michael is trying to ask him out. “Tinder date?”

“No, Luke, I-”

“Not a Tinder date? Who then?”

“Luke, please.” Luke lifts an eyebrow (A single eyebrow! How does he do that? Michael’s eyebrows do not work independent of each other.) “You, Luke. Would you like to go to this kind of lame coffee shop I know, where the lighting is low but the music is good, and the people are quiet. Would you go on a date with me?”

“I might, maybe. Probably. Normally. But I can’t.” And Michael’s face falls, and Luke might cry, but goddammit, he’s going to stay strong, because this is only fair.

“I understand. I didn’t mean to bother you. I really need to be getting back anyway, um-”

“I can’t, because my mum always told me not to go places with strange men you don’t know. And a certain busboy I find awful cute never told me his name.”

“You dick. I was about to go cry into my dish towel, you know.”

“Oh you were not, you are so over-dramatic.”

“I was! It’s not every day a really cute guy comes into your workplace and tries to flirt with you but is too nervous, but in being nervous only gets cuter! I was very upset!”

“You think I’m cute?”

“I thought that was very obvious. Was it not? Let me clarify: I think you are probably both the cutest and the hottest guy I have ever seen, simultaneously. And I look in the mirror every morning.”

Luke hums, biting his lip to keep from splitting his cheeks, “That’s pretty hard to compete with.”

“Lunch then? On Saturday? I’ll pick you up?”

“You haven’t given me your number, told me where we’re going, given me a specific time, or told me your fucking name.”

“I’m sorry! You’re just- really distracting, you know that? I can’t get my mind off of you long enough to remember how to hold a conversation.”

Luke looks at his beat up Converse. “Thank you. You’re pretty cute yourself.”

“It’s Michael,” He can’t keep the grin off his face, “Before I forget. Michael Clifford.” Luke looks up, and his smile must be a thousand watts, in Michael’s estimation. Luke hands the busboy - Michael - his phone. “I’ll text you my address.”

“Yea. You do that, Luke. I’ll come pick you up. We’ll go on a date. I’ll go on a date with you. ‘Cos you said yes. Sounds like a plan.”

“Shh.” Luke puts his finger to Michael’s lips. “We can talk on Saturday. Now, get back to work.”

MASTERLIST

5. no one blushes this much?? 6. i came up with the word sidedicks on the spot who’s proud of me 7. ‘disproportionately’ is a really long word 8. i use so many variations of the word smile js 9. the ending is kinda shoddy im sorry 10. should i have put a ‘read more’ in? probably. did i? nope.

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