ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃ ᶫᶦᵗᵗᶫᵉ ᵇᵃᵈ ᶫᵘᶜᵏ

[salcmsarchive]

💬 sms to salem.

NOAH: why do you think i plan it?

NOAH: ah, afraid i don't have much either, but i can change that. what're you feeling like/

SALEM: to charm me :) ?

SALEM: pasta? or just munchy snacks. we could order takeaway?

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💬 sms to salem.

NOAH: i do that on purpose you know. it's all planned.

NOAH: anytime you want.

SALEM: :o ! why do you plan it?

SALEM: is five too soon? there's not much for dinner @ my place and i wanna raid your cupboards a bit

[salcmsarchive]

💬 sms to salem.

NOAH: i've got something with you in mind. thought you could come around and i could give it to you.

SALEM: you always know just what to say!! i could definitely come around and you could definitely DEFINITELY give it to me!

[salcmsarchive]

💬 sms to salem.

NOAH: are you busy tonight?

SALEM: mmm shouldn't be. why do you ask?

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natedesai:

“Oh, come on. It’s a pool party! You gotta get in the water.” The dark haired boy let out a groan. Summer was approaching and this was the first pool party of the year. It was the advantage of having richer friends— you got to use their houses for parties. Nathan lets a grin form on his lips and he only slightly splashes water onto the other. “Look, now you’re wet. So. Get. In. The. Pool. Don’t make me beg.” And he breaks into puppy dog eyes then, batting lashes at the other.

Salem goes to parties around Wilson to serve Looks™. He doesn’t know many people in this tiny city, yet, so it’s not like there’s anyone he’s especially going to see. However, he’s also a social being so being surrounded by people to pay him attention is a plus. But, he’s completely content to bask in the spring sunshine, scroll through his phone notifications, and not get in the pool to ruin his ensemble, so the splash is unwelcome and met with a whine of protest. “You almost got my phone wet!” he squeals indignantly, retreating into a small hunched ball away from the now-wet end of his sunning chair. “One can go to a pool party without the intention of swimming, thank you very much.” He’s being playful, really, but if the other had gotten more than his little denim shorts wet, it’d be a different story.

[salcmsarchive]

are u secretly here to kidnap elliot and bring him back to NYC??

“Who said anything about it being a secret, hunny? That’s my very transparent, diabolical plan.”

[nymphadorahelps]

[salcmsarchive]

uglyducklingwrites:

A E S T H E T I C; CLASSY BITCH

“black and white is just more classy, don’t you think?”

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hawthorncs:

Barcelona was the last time he saw Salem. Their relationship isn’t exactly a ‘relationship’, at least not in the conventional sense, but they use each other for things, and it seems to work out in the sense that anything mutually beneficial works out. Them both ending up in this town together had been purely a coincidence, and Noah isn’t sure how he feels about it – about how his life outside of this, his little fantasies that he plays into when the time is right and only on occasion, are now bleeding into everyday reality. It’s a bit disconcerting, though perhaps not entirely bad. At least for now. As long as he keeps certain things separate, it shouldn’t turn into a problem, and that’s really all that he can hope for at the end of the day. That and evidently occasional unprompted suggestions of visits from him, too excitable for Noah’s tastes, but endearingly so somehow in a way he can’t quite put his finger on. He’s sure he’s going to want something, but he’s come to expect that, and it’s what makes sense anyway.

When the knock sounds at his door – he wouldn’t of heard it if he hadn’t been listening for it, it’s so quiet – he heads over there at a relaxed pace. He’s dressed in typical garments for him. Button-up, braces, jeans, glasses. It’s all very Noah, and it’s something Salem will of seen a hundred times before already. There’s no nervousness when he opens the door, just a small smile and a quick once-over for what it’s worth before he steps back and stands aside, gesturing for him to come in. “It’s been a while.” He says, as if he wouldn’t know it already or something. The place is nice. Not as nice as the flat he had in London, but nice enough for what Wilson has to offer. Besides that, Salem never actually saw his place in London. They only ever went to extravagant alternate locations. It would’ve been too personal that way, just like it feels a little bit too personal right now. At least to Noah.

Salem isn’t sure of the etiquette when it comes to greeting one’s mostly-long distance pseudo sugar daddy after serendipitously moving to the same obscure little town in the middle of nowhere. Any thought he pays towards indulging the flutter of nerves is promptly stamped out as instinct takes over as the door is pulled away to reveal Noah, in all his glory. A while. No shit, it’s been a while but Noah looks fucking good as ever and it feels like no time has passed at all. Especially with the way Noah’s gaze flicks over Salem’s figure before returning to his face. There’s a smile instantly lighting up his entire being in reply and, more pixie than person, he flits into the flat and onto his tiptoes to smush a kiss to Noah’s cheek. His hand curls around the strap of Noah’s braces for support -- comparative height difference making the position rather daunting for poor Salem.  “Hello, to you too.” He pulls back with a trill of a giggle, flat footed and safe once more.

Compared to the box him and Elliot call home, even this entryway is grand and Salem is living. It’s no Berlin, no Barcelona, no exotic location to which Salem has been whisked away. He almost wants to cry at the thought of returning to the drafty halls and clanking radiator that haunted his dreams. He knows home visits were never really ‘their thing’, neither of them giving out that intimate of information. They were intimate in other ways -- in very good, very rewarding ways! -- but neither found a need for anything more than that. So it’s a little odd, standing in his doorway, paying a visit to just catch up but if there’s one thing Salem doesn’t stand for, it’s awkwardness. He whirls on a heel to fix his beam up at Noah. It’s almost as if he’s not real; he’s an apparition after a lust filled afternoon in the late Spanish sun. “God, it’s good to see a familiar face.” And body. All of Noah, really. “This town’s so sleepy I feel halfway to passed out just by stepping out my door.” He pouts and a hand reaches out to make a grabby gesture towards Noah. As if he’s not going to follow him, naturally, into his own home.

[salcmsarchive]

adclias:

            for once, adelia was taking a step away from her shop. she began to go down the streets, wondering how to spend her day. she already spent two hours at a coffee shop. she was beginning to get bored with all the walking and searching, but thankfully, a particular vivacious individual stopped her, asking odd, and very urgent question. slightly puzzled, she pondered her answer a moment.   “ not that i am aware of. “   she raises a hand with a realization.  “ though the next town over has larger stores, you might be able to find one there. “   with her answer being over, she gave him a smile,   “ quite a dramatic death, though, my dear. i am always a fan of the theatrics. “

salem groans because really it’s just his luck that he’d move to wilson to chase his muse but then hit a major roadbloack on the actual design aspect when it came to gathering materials. he knows he’ll be doing far more importing but that’s going to require money which is a novelty salem lacks. he knows a few places he can get it but the hassle makes him want to scream. “looks like i’ll be heading to the next town over. a lot.” there’s a withering look but he’s appreciative that at least someone has a tiny ray of hope in the darkness that is wilson, oregon. “everything i do is dramatic. it’s how you survive, where i’m from.” he gives a knowing nod. “you’ll eulogize me, right? tell the world how i died for the aesthetique?”

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lcncasters:

“I don’t know what svelte means.” Kai supplies, though he has a feeling he’s being complimented. He had reached up to touch his hair when it was pointed out, and his fingers are carding through it now, messing it up even more than what he’d really meant to do was sort it out. That tends to always be the way of things with Kai, though. “Is that so?” He has no idea what he’s talking about, and it’s becoming more and more clear by how quiet he actually is. He’s more than willing to let someone else talk, but he’s also bouncing on the balls of his feet now, all antsy and too energised. He wants to contribute something, he just doesn’t know what, so instead of thinking about it, he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “Would I have to pay for the clothes? I haven’t got any money.” That’s evidenced by what he’s wearing now. Old and worn and probably less than $20 total.

“Elegant.” It’s perhaps a funny choice of words since the other looks rather rugged and disheveled in appearance at present but it’s the build. Salem has an eye for his vision and in the most (shockingly) innocent of ways, he could mentally strip back this person’s clothes and replace them with his own. And Salem very much likes what he sees. He bobs his head in an eager nod, sensing some trepidation in his conversational companion -- he sees that as his in. He’ll have this ginger modeling for him yet! “God, no! Course ya’ wouldn’t have to pay! What kind of a cheapskate do ya’ take me for!” He’s stepping back as though he could measure him with just his eyes. Salem’s good but he’s not that good. “You’d be doing me a favor, honest. Only payment needed would be you wearing my pieces around town and telling them it’s a Salem Kennedy original if they ask.” Salem’s hand juts out in greeting. “That’s m’name, by the way. And by all means, please wear it out.”

[thursday]

*gracefully flips over a quesadilla* anyone would be lucky to have me

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ellictism:

            it was odd hearing someone call him their muse. especially at this point when elliot doesn’t view himself so highly (this was not an issue in new york, that was for sure). hearing it, though, made himself grin, and all that pride flooded back to him. it wasn’t one sided, either. salem got elliot’s creative juices flowing. typically, salem would come to elliot with a look, a style, something fit for his small thin body and elliot would burst with ideas to match it. he was a walking showroom. and before going to the club, he’d paint him, too. they were a showcase of each other’s art and he missed that. but now he was back, and it wasn’t just elliot standing against the world. it was a chance for him to rise up in this shitty diluted town. to stand up for who he is. 

it was true, even in their time apart, elliot kept wraps on his social pages. looking at the selfies and salem knew enough of a way with a beauty blender and mascara, but never the shock that elliot provided.   “ i can’t believe you need me to give you that highlight. the world improves dramatically if you glow on your own, i swear to god. “   his words might be a little mumbled together, focused more on the paint and how it’s almost done. both eyes nearly finished. he just needed a wing sharp enough to stab the likes of even tim gunn. make it work.  you bet your ass elliot made it work. he made it his bitch, too. and he knew it. all those feelings of being up his own ass were coming back. he wouldn’t call himself a makeup god, salem usually did that for him.

eyebrows pulled together as he finished the last flick of his wrist with the detailing brush, and he made an incredulous sound.   “ bitch you and i both know we need a daddy and that’s not comin’ from either of us. none of this you can’t handle me shit. you know i’m dirty. “   frequently, they’d come to each other with long intricate stories of the messy things they got into with men. typically followed by the other saying something similar to ‘you dirty bitch’, but then following up with an equally as filthy tale. they both were queens of the mess, no questions ask.    and with the mention of dirty, he sat up with a heavy gasp,  “ girl, listen. it has been rough, but i found some real gems. “   he leans back to grab his phone, flipping through the photos.   “ this is jagger, “   the picture show was of his face burried in elliot’s neck, picking up the jawline and mess of dark hair.   “ he’s british and parties hard. like, new york hard. it’s so refreshing. “   he flips through a few more pictures of them. all lips and all hands, some with more clear views of his faces, others that were a blur. but he leaned back to flip through more to pull up a photo of kai.   “ then there’s kai. “   it was probably disgusting, and un-elliot like to have a photo of a man sleeping with morning sun pouring over his face. he was a whole different mess. 

salem sincerely doubts wilson, oregon is ready for the full magnitude of their self expression. even just the look elliot’s lazily done during their project runway marathon is extravagant, bold, and would probably make half the town tremble in their heteronormative boots. and that, salem can claim without even having really seen it yet. he only knows based on the colors he’s caught glimpses of before they were smudged on his eyelids or dusted on his (admittedly nice) cheekbones. they were a force to be reckoned with and practically the definition of androgynous and proud. he can only start to dream up the kind of trouble they’re bound to stir up in this sleepy town and while salem may not be crazy about its quaintness, at least his appearance there will cause the kind of ripples that fuel his self importance. plus, he doubts there are other designer types here -- his work will be novel here as opposed to the small fish in a big pond syndrome he’d started to come up against back home.

“you say that like you don’t live to make this structure pop like it’s nobody’s business,” salem scoffs in response. he’s sure he can glow on his own but he just prefers it when elliot makes it happen. it’s partially out of laziness and partially to encourage the ego stroking that comes alongside having his makeup done. salem is a very vain little creature. despite his enjoyment of it, he was still struggling not to have his eyelids twitch with the application and truthfully he still wanted to open his fucking eyes. he was missing the show! “i’ve been meaning to have you teach me a simple daily makeup look though,” he observes absently. talking somewhat helps with the fidgeting. “i’ve gotten some really nice new brushes and a few new products i’d like to try out.” courtesy of noah. has he told elliot about noah? he can’t remember.

it’s a good thing elliot finishes because the word daddy acts like a trigger and salem is suddenly on high alert. “you’re dirty, yes,” salem groans in mock annoyance, “but you’re no daddy, dearest. so no, you couldn’t handle me. we’re both sluts for being manhandled so it’d never work out between us.” his tone is overdramatic, like they’re some sort of star crossed lovers instead of the most platonic, tactile, gay besties the world has ever seen. “i mean, that and we’re both bottoms. logistics.” he’s not going to go into the details of double ended toys; he’s far more interested in the action they’re actually getting instead of the hypothetical. “british and a partier. and fuck, he’s pretty too.” there’s no jealousy, only a sense of pride. he’s also very grateful elliot has a penchant for photos of his messy hookups because the ones he sees are hot as hell. “you guys a regular thing?” friends with benefits is salem’s favorite arrangement. the next photo is much softer in nature -- almost affectionate in its lighting and angle. freshly manicured brows lift up into his fringe and he shoots a curious look at his friend. “so. where’s my mini pitch about ginger here? and when’s the fucking wedding, sis?” salem’s teasing, prodding an elbow into elliot’s side. while he waits on his answer, he fishes out his own phone so he could turn on the front facing camera. vain, indeed.

[salcmsarchive]

great-looking-men started following salcms

salem’s life goal, achieved

[salcmsarchive]

lcncasters:

“Yeah, sure, a travesty.” Kai nods like that’s a word he actually understands – he doesn’t, but context clues certainly help – and continues to rock, his gaze already flitting here and there as he considers moving on. The last comment the stranger makes has him a little caught up, though, and he turns his gaze back on him with avid curiosity brimming on his features. It’s really quite easy to get his attention; holding it is where the problems begin to arise. “Your stuff? Y’mean like, you make clothes and all that?” Kai’s never met anyone who does that. It must be interesting, and it would make sense why he’s so upset over there not being a place to buy fabrics if that were the case. “Why?” As in why would he look good in them? He’s nothing special.

Agreement works a long way in Salem’s case -- so much so that he ignores the uncertain inflection in the other’s voice. He had thought the designer aspect had been made clear in his suffering over the fabric store but, nonetheless, Salem enjoys talking about his craft and the question is the perfect in. “I do, indeed, make clothes. Was set to go to school for it and everything -- though I’m currently on a gap year so I can follow my muse.” His muse by the name of Elliot but that part doesn’t need to be voiced to a total stranger. “Good coloring,” he gestures to the other’s hair and eyes -- focal points he could easily highlight with certain fabrics and palettes. “And you’re very svelte. I like designing things oversized and they wouldn’t look ridiculous on you.” This individual is even a little taller than Elliot and himself, making him prime model material by comparison (though Salem would accept a wide variety of heights, honestly. He likes diversity in his looks).

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lcncasters:

Kai is a little bit confused. The urgency in which he’s being addressed floods him with a sense of uncertainty, mostly because what’s being said doesn’t sound all ‘life or death’ at all. He supposes it must be important to this person, and just because that’s not the case with him doesn’t make it any less so. He’s blinking a little in his direction, needing to take a moment to gather himself before he works up to a response. “Uh, well…” He begins, rocking to the balls of his feet, and glancing either which way up and down the street they’re stood on. “I guess it must not? Sorry, mate, I don’t know all that much about fabrics, to be honest with ya.”

It pains Salem that the ginger doesn’t appear to understand the gravity of the situation. Actually physically pains him. But he gives the benefit of the doubt to his freckled companion based solely on the fact that at least he looks. Also, the English accent doesn’t hurt, rough as it may be. Salem is a sucker for accents -- though his own, he could do without. “This is a travesty,” he pouts, shaking his head minutely. “How am I going to start the next high fashion trend without any fabric?” He’s going to have to import them which translates to needing Noah’s help. Again. “Maybe some deconstructing...” He’s just thinking aloud now, though his gaze swiftly sweeps over the other’s figure. “You’d look good in my stuff.” It’s blunt, perhaps. Salem doesn’t believe in delaying the point.

[salcmsarchive]

@jinxie: when you think a cute boy is trying to hit u up but it's actually a spam bot :/

[salcmsarchive]

Salem isn’t shy about starting conversations with strangers, especially when they look like they’re just dying for contact with someone interesting, for once in their pitiful existences (he exaggerates but he assumes the small town vibe doesn’t attract many vibrant characters). He especially enjoys the sound of his own voice, raised in complaint, and this particular stranger looks like the perfect target for their whines. “Please, you have to help me,” he begins dramatically, hands gesticulating with each word. “Are the rumors true? Is there really no fabric store in all of Wilson? I may die.” Again, exaggerating. It’s what Salem does best, evidently.