𝖑𝖆𝖒𝖇 / 𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗.

dallas lamb. 37. construction consultant for lamb lumber services llc.

[dallaslamb]

[dallaslamb]

sanyablackwell‌:

      moving  had  been––––––  an  ordeal,  to  say  the  least.  escaping  the  burning  blacktops  of  LA  was  refreshing  ( yes,  of  course  it  was ),  but  packing  up  just  enough  to  get  by  for  a  year  at  most  and  hauling  that  around  LA  ( because  heaven  forbid  they  go  through  it )  and  onto  a  ferry  to  be  shipped  to  a  tiny  ( modest )  house,  all  just  after  the  holidays ?  parenthetical  asides  aside,  sanya  was,  in  a  word :  exhausted.  and  also,  just  maybe,  marginally  scared  of  feeling  like  a  guppy  in  open,  shark  infested  waters ;  unfamiliar  faces  like  passing  ships  in  the  night.  

      he’d  unpacked  the  bare  essentials  in  an  anxiety  induced  frenzy  and  continuously  reminded  himself  that  he  was  there  for  sidney  and  akida ;  and  for  the  sake  of  dallas  he  needed  very  much  to  bare  his  teeth  and  be  the  shark.  so  he  slipped  on  some  fuzzy  pink  socks  about  an  hour  ago  and  fell  full  body  onto  the  couch,  groaning,  ‘  if  i  don’t  do  the  shopping  tomorrow,  kindly  shoot me.  ’  but  they  did  do  good,  and  he  grunts  his  agreement.

       it  was  that  same  pink  fuzzy  socked  foot  that  kicked  out  now,  toe  gently  pushing  against  his  partner’s  temple  in  a  playful  shove  before  swinging  to  gently  pat  guinness’  back.  sanya  hums,  foot  finally falling  to  allow  him  to  lean  forward,  to  take  a  swig  of  his  stout  and  chase  that  sort  of  cotton  heavy  feeling  like  a  rabbit  in  a  haze.    ❛  full  house ?  really ?  ❜    he  lets  out  a  long,  heaving  breath  as  he  falls  back  into  the  cushions,  considering  his  hand.    ❛  y’know,  it’s  good,  ❜    he  says,  fighting  off  the  dry  curl  of  wry  lips.    ❛  just––––––  ❜    a  pause,  pink  tongue  peeking  out  to  curl  over  the  top  row  of  his  teeth,  a  lazy  hand  fanning  out  four  cards  on  the  coffee  table  between  them.    ❛  not  as  good  as  four  fives.  ❜    

     nose scrunching, dallas pouts his bottom lip out, reaching to push sanya’s fuzzy foot from his head. it’s certainly not the worst thing one of them has shoved into the face of the other, but he’s focused on the game at hand and isn’t going to lose because of unfair distractions. he considers calling sanya a cheater, but well, he hasn’t really cheated. yet. “it is pretty good, innit?” dallas agrees, smile spreading easily across his features as sanya comments on his full house, the sigh music to his ears, however momentary. all smugness and gloating fades as sanya lays down his cards. four fives. 

      green eyes narrow in mock suspicion before he huffs, bottom lip poking out once more at the sight of sanya’s victory. “oh come on,” he whines, looking him over, “how the fuck do you always win? i had a full house!” he groans, reaching for his beer to take a swig before he pushes himself off the ground to climb right onto sanya on the couch, making sure he puts as much of his body weight on him as possible. “i can’t remember what you bet,” he lies, but only teasingly, always honest with him when it isn’t a joking matter. “guess it must not’ve been that good, so i don’t gotta do it,” he argues.

[dallaslamb]

sidneyblackwell‌:

       sidney  snorted,  grinning  through  the  feeling  of  the  heat  in  his  cheeks  as  he  turned  to  follow  dallas  back  inside,  shutting  the  door  with  a  gentle  click  behind  them.    ❛  dallas  lamb,  you  are  a  menace,  ❜    he  hummed,  a  sort  of  tightness  easing  in  his  chest  at  the  familiarity  of   the  company.  dallas  was  –––  well,  he  wasn’t  sure  what  he  was,  only  that  he  had  been  sanya’s  roommate  ever  since  they’d  met  in  college  and  was  now  pretty  much  effectively  a  part  of  the  family.  

      he  slips  around  dallas,  socked  feet  silent  on  dark  wood  floors  as  he  re-enters  the  kitchen,  leaning  over  the  bar  to  grab  the  files,  to  slide  them  over.    ❛  but  yeah,  it  went  alright,  i  have  the  forms  and  folders  right  here.  ❜    full  of  numbers  and  orders  and  all  sorts  of  schematics  sidney  did  not  understand  but  had  maybe  taken  a  peek  at.  which,  hopefully,  wasn’t  illegal.    ❛  cleo  halliwell  might  just  eat  you  alive,  for  the  record,  ❜    he  teased  as  he  resumed  his  station  dutifully  stirring  the  noodles,  which  were  just  about  done.    ❛  she’s  quite–––  ❜    he  paused,  considering.    ❛  abrasive ?  ❜    nose  scrunching  because  that  wasn’t  quite  right,  not  really.    ❛  she  just  seemed  like  a  lot.  ❜  

      and  really,  he  ought  to  bite  his  tongue.  wiping  his  hands  on  the  dishtowel  at  the  stove,  breathing,  he  reset.    ❛  do  y’want  spaghetti ?  ❜   

      “yes sir, i’m well aware, sanya tells me in such a pretty voice,” he jokes, letting every bit of it sound teasing, even if it was completely the truth. it was easy with sidney. he never had any siblings, he hadn’t been able to relate to the fierce protectiveness sanya possessed for the younger siblings in his family, but he shared the same desire to see sidney happy and well cared for as his partner did now that they knew one another. it was second nature, even as he took the files, brow raising with an amused quirk of his lips, “that bad, kid? no offense, but i wouldn’t say you’re the best judge on that one, the kid next door could eat you alive, pumpkin,” he flashes a grin, throwing out the pet name with as much playful mocking as he possibly can, “but i appreciate the warning, hopefully she didn’t rub you the wrong way?” he asks, because while he knows sidney is a bit shy and he likes to tease, he absolutely trusts sidney’s judgement on this. he doesn’t want to do business with anyone that unsettles someone as bright and warm as sidney blackwell. 

       he looks toward the pot sidney’s been working on with a grin, tummy rumbling in response, “always, what kind of question is that?” he asks, eyes flicking to the dishtowel before he reaches to tug it free, fully intending to snap it at him. 

[dallaslamb]

elizcbethkennedy‌:

for → @dallaslamb​ location: a supermarket somewhere in town time: thursday, 12PM

One of Lizzie’s favorite things to do was grocery shop, even if she didn’t know how to cook very well. The point was, she was learning, wet and greasy fingers tapping on her iPad while she whipped up some complicated recipe from a blog that always had too much preamble.

Strolling down the produce aisle, she picked up a peach, fingers grazing the fuzzy exterior, thinking about how emojis had ruined peaches and eggplants for her forever. Just then, another person came up besides her, and she held the peach up to his face. “You know, real peaches don’t actually look that much like butts.”  

     he had his list, where the hell did he––there, dallas frowned, patting his left rear pocket, pulling the list free. he had made a habit of always going to the grocery store with a list, especially when he was shopping for the house. if he just needed to grab something for himself, he didn’t worry about it, but sanya was particular about ingredients, and even though he’d never managed to figure out exactly how he worked his magic, dallas sure as hell benefited from following the directions and getting the right stuff. 

     currently, the beast was fresh produce. he’d learned how to tell when things were ripe and ready, after years of shopping with sanya, but he still found himself watching for deals too. he frowned at the options in front of him for peppers. they had bags of fresh peppers 3 for $2 or $1.50 each, but they didn’t really need three bags of peppers. his lips pursed as he mentally ran through the options, before his calculating was interrupted by a peach being pushed in front of his face. he blinked, taking a step back before he huffed a laugh, “i don’t think anyone’s saying they are?” he questioned, not even thinking about their use as butts for texting. 

[dallaslamb]

lucasbeckett‌:

          fitful  sleep  is  broken  by  the  sharp  cadence  of  siren,  dorm  lights  plunging  the  room  into  light  almost  instantaneously.   he’s  immediately  on  alert,  jumping  down  from  top  bunk  and  racing  down  the  hall  to  where  he  can  see  two  others  arriving  at  bay  meeting  point  ;  there’s  wordless  communication  as  they  all  slip  into  uniform  and  boots,  ready  for  whatever  job  they  were  about  to  respond  to.

          as  last  lace  is  tied,  chief  appears  in  doorway  ;  lucas  can  read  his  father’s  expression  well  enough  to  gauge  what  sort  of  call  just  came  through,  and  the  taut  brow  bodes  ill,  sending  his  stomach  plummeting.   instincts  prove  to  be  correct  when  it’s  confirmed  as  a  rope  rescue,  a  construction  worker  suspended  without  any  foothold  to  aid  position  ;  stomach  is  now  in  free-fall,  but  he  schools  expression  to  cover  up  his  reaction   (   don’t  think  about  the  man,  grey-faced  and  unresponsive.  don’t  think  about  it,  don’t  think  about  it,  don’tthink—   ).

          suspension  trauma.   the  words  echo,  as  chief  beckett  pulls  him  aside  and  asks  if  he’s  up  for  taking  point,  concern  evident  in  tone  and  the  way  palm  lands,  warm,  upon  shoulder.   he  assures  him  that  he’s  fine,  can  handle  the  responsibility   (   compartmentalise  /  compartmentalise  /  compartmentalise   ),  and  turns  towards  the  ems  vehicle  in  which  lópez  is  waiting.   sirens  on,  they  speed  away  from  the  fire  truck  pulling  out  of  the  station  behind,  gps  co-ordinates  already  plotting  their  course  to  lafayette  square.

          12  minutes  later   (   17  minutes  since  receiving  the  call   ),  they  arrive  at  the  wooded  area,  already  spotting  the  scaffolding  —  and  the  man  dangling  from  it  —  at  the  top  of  the  road.   exiting  the  vehicle,  lópez  makes  a  beeline  for  the  co-workers  with  faces  lined  with  anxiety  in  a  bid  to  find  out  what  happened  and  what  rope  system  they  use,  while  lucas  focuses  immediately  upon  the  victim  above.

          squinting,  hands  shielding  eyes,  he  searches  for  signs  of  consciousness  ;  upon  seeing  a  pair  of  eyes  staring  back,  a  tiny  knot  of  tension  releases  beneath  ribcage  as  voice  projects  across  the  gap  between  them,   ❛   it’s  dallas,  right   ?   ❜   a  recollection  of  the  details  given  by  caller,  focus  sharpening  mind  despite  the  hour,   ❛   my  name’s  lucas  and  that’s  lópez  talking  to  your  colleagues  right  now.   we’re  gunna  get  you  down  as  soon  as  humanly  possible,  okay,  but  first  i  need  to  know  how  you’re  feeling.   are  you  feeling  any  pain  currently,  any  injuries  you’re  aware  of  from  the  fall   ?   ❜

       time was an enemy in his current circumstances, and dallas knew that, but the seconds seemed to tick by agonizingly slowly as he remained suspended, trapped in the safety harness that would have to be forked over to OSHAA. fuck, sanya was going to kill him when he had to purchase all new safety equipment, if carson lamb didn’t insist on letting the company cover it, that was. it was his fault though, he had to have done something wrong to find himself in his current predicament. he wet his lips, mouth dry and trying very hard to not think about needs, as he had no idea how long he’d be stuck hanging from the scaffold. he didn’t need to make himself more miserable with pesky things like noticing an itch or acknowledging the dryness in his throat. he swallowed thickly, nose scrunching as he sniffed. the air was a little crisp for the morning, though january here was nothing like it had been back in south dakota. 

          his thoughts continued to wander, bouncing disorganized from sanya to guinness, to what he’d tell carson, and fluttering back to the ache at his hip where the harness was digging in painfully. he was drawn from his thoughts at the ems vehicle, and then at the man approaching him, calling up with questions. the warmth filling him had to be embarrassment right? he was sure his cheeks were red. this wasn’t the position he wanted to find himself in, and his nostrils flared, anger and annoyance fighting for first position on his features. “yeah, it’s dallas, can you just get me down? i’m fine, just tired of hangin’ here like a god damn idiot,” he was glad the whine didn’t escape with his insistence. his chest tightened, eyes sweeping over the ground. it made him dizzy. it wasn’t like being up in the trees, where he was steady and holding to something. this free fall position made his stomach flip. if he wasn’t careful, he was going to get sick. 

         “the harness is bitin’ like a bitch, but i suppose that’s how it’s meant to be, isn’t it? it’s pulled taut, but i’m gonna be bruised, i can feel it,” he added, not sure what other information he could give lucas. “i didn’t hit anything in the fall, so other than that there’s not a thing wrong with me, except for hangin around here,” he insisted, not knowing the extent of how dangerous his current situation really was. he had learned about suspension trauma some years ago, but it wasn’t registering then. all that registered was that it was six in the morning and he was ready to get on the ground and walk it out, before promptly going right home. 

[dallaslamb]

location: blackwell-lamb residence ( avalon )  date & time: january 4 / 6:45 pm  tagging: @sanyablackwell​

      boxes remained strewn around the house, organized at least by location, but still untouched. it had only been one day, in all fairness, but dallas didn’t want to leave them for long. he never liked the sight of moving boxes, he’d lived out of enough unpacked cardboard for one lifetime. they’d unpacked the absolute essentials ––– including the big forest green blanket that dallas absolutely cherished, the one he had wrapped over him currently as he sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, takeout greasy and delicious (and certainly not better than sanya’s homemade cooking, but half the kitchen had yet to be unpacked and they hadn’t gone grocery shopping yet) sat in styrofoam boxes near his hand of cards. 

      “i think we did good, baby, the house is coming along nicely,” he grinned, playing his hand on the table, his eyes crinkling around the edges with fondness as he reached for the pennies currently being used as betting chips. he wasn’t a betting man, he’d said it time and time again, but there was nothing risky about playing around with sanya. it was perfectly safe, and if he won, well then he could lord that over his partner until sanya inevitably beat him the next time they played. he reached over to grab the beer he’d been sipping at, not in the mood for anything too ridiculous, but found nothing wrong with one drink over dinner and the game. guinness sidled up beside him too, having alternated between sanya’s side and his throughout the last forty minutes. “careful with your play, baby, you might just lose and what a terrible situation you’d be in if that happens,” he teased, biting down on his grin. 

[dallaslamb]

location: construction site ( lafayette square )  date & time: january 16 / 5:48 am  tagging: @lucasbeckett​

    “–––fucker,” dallas cursed, a long string of foul language emanating with the same ferocity as dallas’ foul mood. given the circumstances, he had every right to be angry. he should have stayed in bed, hell he knew he should have stayed in bed. he had never taken such an early job, and for good reason. he knew it was the fault of the not-yet-fully-risen sun and the sleep still evident in the bags beneath his eyes. how else would he manage to find himself entangled in the safety harness, a good few hundred feet in the air? the harness itself had mostly done it’s job, even if dallas thought it was the most ridiculous piece of equipment in his life at the given moment. it was snug around his hips and thighs, the metal lock digging into his belly as he held to the coarse rope. he’d watched enough of the mandated safety videos to know what to do if he ever found himself needing the harness, but the whole ordeal left him red faced and angry. 

       not only was the project entirely thrown off now, but he was quite literally hanging in limbo until help arrived. his men weren’t equipped to get him down and the damn law required that emergency services were contacted regardless of dallas’ threats of bodily harm. it didn’t help either that his chest was still tight. as much as he loved to climb trees and had spent countless hours in the heights of them up north, he wasn’t immune to the fear of falling. the snap of the equipment had terrified him, and though he hated the harness digging ugly bruises into his flesh, he knew that it was one of the only things saving him from serious harm, or worse. 

        that thought brought on thoughts of sanya. fuck, he was going to kill him when he got out of this mess. dallas could accept that, but if he really was honest with himself, he’d admit that he wanted sanya there too. it would be better to hear him shouting up at him than his coworkers. thankfully, his ordeal would be finished soon. from his vantage point he was able to spot the firetruck heading toward him. a worse man might have thought to hope for a hot firefighter to get him down, one of those calendar models, but dallas kept thinking about sanya, wondering if he’d tease him about the situation or if he’d go straight in for the murder. 

[dallaslamb]

sidneyblackwell‌:

        he’d  been  stirring  the  pot  over  the  stove  in  a  sort  of  daze  –––  a  lazy  meal,  pasta,  sauce  from  a  jar  because  he  frankly  couldn’t  quite  be  bothered  to  do  much  else  ( had  nearly  resorted  to  delivery,  the  app  on  his  phone  still  calling  to  him  like  a  siren  song  from  across  the  kitchen )  –––  when  he  should  have  heard  the  door.  

        instead,  he  heard  the  music  blaring  from  the  tinny  speakers  of  that  same  phone,  some  playlist  or  other  curated  by  this  or  that  older  sibling  ( truth  be  told,  much  of  his  music  came  from  sanya  or  andi,  but  that  was  just  the  way  being  the  baby  of  the  family  sort  of  was  –––  a  pinch  of  your  personality  from  here,  a  pinch  from  there,  all  influenced  by  those  that  came  before  you ).  it’s  only  thanks  to  the  quiet  of  the  space  between  track  six  and  seven  that  he  hears  it.  

         hears  him,  rather,  before  he’s  rushing  from  the  kitchen,  snatching,  pausing,  and  pocketing  his  phone  before  the  front  door  is  swinging  open.    ❛  dallas !  ❜    he  smiles,  an  embarrassed  flush  having  broken  out  over  the  height  of  his  cheeks  in  the  desperate  hope  he  hadn’t  stranded  the  man  outside  for  too  long.  and,  admittedly,  that  he  hadn’t  heard  what  had  just  been  playing  ( because  sidney’s  ninety-two  percent  sure  it  was  shakira  shakira ).  he  steps  back  to  allow  him  to  come  in.    ❛  hey,  i  was  in  the  kitchen,  sorry,  ❜    he  breathes.    ❛  did  sanya  send  you ?  ❜ 

     at last, dallas thought, a grin forming on his lips as he looked sidney over, eyes sweeping to take inventory however brief. they shifted back to his pretty eyes when he found no indication of harm–––no bruises, cuts, or anything else that would require his immediate concern. in fact, he looked plenty healthy, which meant that dallas felt absolutely zero remorse in his teasing lilt, “i should apologize, i suppose, for interrupting shakira, shakira,” he grinned, hips shifting dramatically as he teased, finding that it was as natural as teasing sanya, and almost as satisfying. “i should have guessed you were in the kitchen anyway, you and your brother are the same breed, i swear,” he chuckled as he stepped inside, immediately crouching to take off his boots, shooting an apologetic smile to sidney for the little clumps of dirt threatening to fall off of them at the doorway. 

          “he told me you picked files up for me, i really appreciate that,” and he did, gratitude coming in the form of the food almost forgotten sitting beside him, “and i was trying to prove it with food but you beat me to dinner, i guess,” he pursed his lips, realizing he should have known better than to bring food to a blackwell. no matter, he was sure they could figure something out, maybe sidney could keep it for leftovers? “how was it? everything go smoothly?” he added, scooping the bag up with him as he stood, socked feet rubbing against the floor just a little as he shifted, “i’ve got time for business and pleasure too, it’s your lucky night,” he grinned, “you can tell me all the crazy things you kids have been up to, and i can lie and say i won’t tell sanya,” he winked, before sheepishly offering the bag of food to him. “or maybe you can feed a starving soul and we can talk about whatever you’d like?” 

[dallaslamb]

location: property in ventura ( up for sale )  date & time: january 15 / 3:45 pm  tagging: @charlie-ansel​

     the house was damn gorgeous, but it would be even better when dallas was finished with it. he was excited about the contract, it was a small project but it paid well as it would increase the property value of the house in the affluent ventura neighborhood. dallas was content enough to live in avalon, but jesus did these people have big houses. he wiped at the sweat beading on his brow with the back of his hand, glove rubbing against his skin as he examined the partially demolished wall. the homeowner wanted a more open concept kitchen, and while dallas was hardly an interior designer, he could manage the woodwork for the set up. they wanted to bring in earthy tones, to use real wood where possible, and if dallas knew anything, it was quality wood. he fancied himself a proper woodie these days. 

        dust and drywall crowded around him, tools strewn in a rather organized manner across the floor, paired with water bottles ( because sanya reminded him to bring them this time ) added to the mess, but it was no matter. the project would be finished in three day’s time, or at least his portion would be, but he didn’t anticipate anyone else being at the house beyond his small crew. even though they called him “boss man” he preferred doing a lot of the hands-on work himself. it was soothing, and rewarding. miniature break over, he set back to work on the wall, the steady thuds finding a sort of rhythm, only interrupted by the deep, rumbling shout of a coworker. he stopped, turning to frown at him with a “what the fuck is wrong?” look to his face, green eyes narrowed, when the man jutted a thumb to the left, drawing dallas’ attention to the young man standing in the archway. he didn’t recognize him, but maybe he was the homeowner’s son? he wasn’t sure. 

         “can i help you?” he asked, the room oddly silent though dust caught in the sunlight coming through the windows, and it smelled of freshly cut wood. he could only imagine how others would perceive the mess, but to dallas everything was just as it was meant to be. 

[dallaslamb]

location: luau larry’s date & time: january 15 / 12:40 pm  tagging: @carlyxweiss​

     as loathe as he was to admit it, it was time. if you had asked dallas five years ago if construction consultants needed portfolios, he would have scrunched up his nose and laughed, because what was the point in that? but, carson lamb was nothing if not good at his job, and he had fitted dallas with a portfolio displaying the quality of lumber they provided, examples of completed ( and in progress) projects that showed off the company. after all, even though dallas was particularly fond of the hands-on project pieces, getting the contract was the first and most important step. 

     so he took the money his uncle provided and scoured the internet, searching for locals who could help him refresh the portfolio he’d brought with him to luau larry’s. the portfolio was in a cracked leather protector, the photos were starting to fade, and nothing really showed current projects. he didn’t want to have to sit down and figure it out, but he hoped carly would be able to help with it. he’d even gone as far as to offer to pay for lunch, in return for getting him sorted. he pushed his chair back, wincing as it scraped against the linoleum when she approached, thinking she matched the picture on the freelance site. “miss weiss?” he asked, hoping it was in fact the freelance photographer. 

[dallaslamb]

mxrsbender‌:

ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ: @catalinastarter ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: three palms arcade. ᴛɪᴍᴇ: 8:00pm? something like that.

Leaving the contentment of his apartment for anything other than work? Yeah, not exactly a prevalent feature on the Bender list of ‘to-do’s. While he alleged it was due to his ‘need to get shit done’ or ‘catch up on shows’, there was seldom any actuality behind those rationalizations. Truth be told, Mars still wasn’t in a place mentally where he could trust himself to triumph over temptation if need be. The ceaseless unease that at any rift of vulnerability, demons of the former would open their jaws & howl; claws drilling deep within his core to drag him back down to the place where the sun never shines. Shitty way to live a life? Sure fuckin’ was. But he would much rather play each circumstance as safe as possible, than let those he love down. Again. However, every blue, green, or purple moon, the male would grant himself permission to push the envelope of those said boundaries. Implementing the same advice he would give a client in his daily routine & instilling a sort of profound trust within himself that he alone… could keep the demons at bay. Even if only for a night. 

Inclining downwards as he glared through squinted eyes, Mars hit the break shot with a coy ease. Orbs enthralled by the demolition of the billiard balls as he calmly made his way back to upright position. “Yeah… so that’s the story of the time I almost hooked up with Meryl Streep. Wild shit, huh?” His dark features contort with a smug mischief; pool cue resting at his waist. “Aight, your turn. Try to top my Meryl Streep encounter. I dare you.”

      figuring out the places to go on the island was on the very top of dallas’ to do list ( after sanya, of course, but that was another story ). he had figured out where to grocery shop, where to set up meet ups for contract proposals and schmoozing, and of course knew of places off island he could return to if he liked. but he’d never visited three palms. frankly, he hadn’t been to a place with ‘arcade’ on the wall since he was very young, and maybe it was the jostling of the move, but nostalgia overcame him and he succumbed to the inviting sign out front. it wasn’t too late, and sanya was busy or else he’d have roped his partner into going bowling with him, but he did send a quick text to him from inside, indicating where he was and that he very much could use a partner at the billiards table, especially given that this younger man was talking up a storm about his meryl streep encounter.

      he cocked his head just slightly to the left, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he listened to the dare. “yeah? i can bullshit with the best of them, tell me a true story and i’ll go toe to toe with you, but i’m not a god damn author, shakespeare, give me a little nonfiction for the evening, i’m too old for that feather rufflin’,” a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he pushed off the chair he was resting against to approach the table, reaching for the stick. he hadn’t shot pool in a long time, but it seemed inviting enough, “how serious are we taking this? i’m not a betting man,” he added, glancing between the balls and mars. 

[sidneyblackwell]

𝐋 𝐀 𝐌 𝐁    ⚜   𝐒 𝐋 𝐀 𝐔 𝐆 𝐇 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑  !    changing,  watching  you  with  wonder.  you're  LESS  and  getting  even  younger.  DYING  is  just  a  kind  of  hunger.                                           come care about me.                                                        come care about me.

                   » » »    a  @dallaslamb​  playlist  feat.  penny  &  sparrow,  bob  dylan,                                             dr.  dog,  the  wood  brothers,  &  more !

[dallaslamb]

location: blackwell residence / avalon  date & time: january 14th, 2020 / 7:33 pm  tagging: @sidneyblackwell​

     one green eye peeked through the peephole in the door as dallas squinted, trying to see through but the peephole wasn’t meant to permit him to see in, but rather for sidney (or akida, or whomever) to peer out. he had dinner tucked safely under one arm as the other lifted once more to rap at the door, “sidney, honey dearest, i’m home,” he called, drawing out sidney’s name into a whine. sanya had told him that sidney had gone off to collect forms for him, and so he’d taken it upon himself to grab food for him on his way over as a thank you, though for sanya’s teasing he could have easily wondered if any thanks at all was necessary. 

         of course, it was, but it wouldn’t come without a healthy dose of teasing as well. after all, it wasn’t every day he got to torment sidney, and to spin things in his favor on sidney’s own turf? well, the opportunity was too enticing to turn down. impatiently, he whistled, “sidney, you haven’t forgotten me have you? this isn’t a stage door, you know, i’m not an adoring fan, i’ve only ever asked you for a selfie once, don’t hold this against me now–––” he rambled, fondness creasing his eyes as he let his head rest against the door, rolling to his side as he shifted the dinner to the side, “sidney,” he whined, feigning that he was exasperated, “it’s been an hour!” he exaggerated. 

[inacatastrophicmind]