Origami Around
trying on a metaphor
Sade Olutola
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Cosmic Funnies
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❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
sheepfilms
Cosimo Galluzzi
Show & Tell
DEAR READER
Claire Keane
Love Begins
pixel skylines
★
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
No title available
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
No title available
todays bird
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Indonesia
seen from United States
seen from Austria
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Guernsey
seen from France
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
@solstitios
ooc. hi everyone, i apologize for being mia on the dash as of late and not responding to tumblr dms/sending welcomes; i’m going to be on vacation from today through the 27th! fhdkfhdkdh so i will see y’all in a little while 🫶🏻🩷
welcome to ansong's first ask meme weekend! we hope these can help you all learn more about each other's muses and foster lots of in character interactions! to participate in the ask meme weekend please reblog this post! we ask that you please only send questions to those who have reblogged the post. please try to send out at least five questions or prompts to different muses for them to answer before answering your own! this ask meme weekend will last from november 15th until november 17th @ 11:59pm est. while you can only send in asks during this timeframe, you have up until november 29th @ 11:59pm est to answer any you received! for these, any three emoji memes answered OR any one dialogue starter prompt will count towards next week's activity check (november 23rd)! please tag all these as as:meme001 and, of course, have fun! <3
the majority of ansong's residents know by now that whenever there is a gathering, there is also a ninety—percent chance that saeroi is bound to chase after the chance like a moth to flame; his presence more often than not lingering somewhere amongst the crowd. rare is it ever that saeroi needs to be bribed to go to illusion of all places, the nightclub being an almost second home to him. but it’s become a repeat cycle, something that runs along the lines of — as long as park saeroi is there, then, the people around him as friends will always put the offer of free drinks, free food, free everything on the table in order to keep him there as the life of the party. and free stuff, saeroi likes. so he has no reason to not indulge, even if it goes disorderly … like it does tonight.
it’s an unspoken rule that saeroi’s conjured for himself. that is, to not let anyone buy him a drink. no matter how pretty or interesting they are. … callum is an exception. he became one, at least. ( even with the fact that he fits into both of the categories saeroi swore off of. annoyingly—so. ) there was no mistaking the way ears had perked at the offer—the mention of a long island; one of the drinks that saeroi favored above everything else — only because it manages to do the job of making him tipsy. just slightly. the soju hits him like a brick on the other hand, not entirely the best idea he’s had in a while if the buzzing in his head is anything to go by.
admittedly, while saeroi is not exactly the most discernible of people when his sobriety has begun to fray at its edges with bit of alcohol lingering in his system, he knows when someone might be staring at him a little too hard, for a little too long — the entirety of himself burning right under callum’s attention. saeroi catches himself in the moment of letting his gaze drift every now and then onto callum when he isn’t looking in his direction, barely able to register the discussion much less the amount of time that’s passed until he feels a strong arm snake around him, a grumble slipping at the squeeze against skin. ticklish. and too early to go home, he wants to say. but he slumps against callum anyway, limbs going limp as he subconsciously places his trust in the hands of the man holding him, to balance him throughout his sluggishness. “b—” hiccup. and he sing—songs, “boooooring.” before a stupid, drunk giggle ( in which, he will surely regret later, when he’s come back to his senses ) towards the other escapes, corners of lips curled into a grin as he stares at callum through the haziness of his vision. “you’re taking me home?”
tonight is living proof that scientifically speaking, saeroi is callum's kryptonite. his friends are evidence of providing him no help, almost as if... they're egging it on. when saeroi takes two steps ahead, callum always takes one. if saeroi takes two steps back, callum steps back, too. there's a beck and call to everything, and he's only human — but learning the idiosyncrasies of how the blonde downs his liquor and how the two of them almost never fail to meet each other's gaze throughout the course of the night feels like a crash course for what's coming.
he begins to wonder if the long island had been a good idea after all. for callum, unfortunately enough, his tolerance to alcohol was high and one long island was only something to pre-game. but the bottle that came after wasn't what he was expecting, nor were some of the extra shots some of them had been sneaking in between cocktails and small bites. not entirely on purpose, but every gaze shared between the two only seemed to grow in duration each time — three, to be exact. one, when saeroi shows up thirty five minutes late to the agreed meet up time at the bar because he was pre-gaming a few blocks away and looked callum right in the eye to offer his feigned apologies. two, when the blonde is in much closer proximity as they lean against the bar, waiting as the bartender makes a long island and pours callum another draft. except there's nobody around to break the magnetic pull between them that winds up looking like mindless wandering hands occassionally fiddling with the other's pinky finger and reminding saeroi just how petite his palms paled in comparison.
and lastly is now, a significantly more intoxicated saeroi looking up at callum to meet his gaze and almost lose himself in it entirely. saeroi stumbles slightly and it shakes callum from his stupor and uses it as a chance to stabilize his balance. "yeah, i am, and that look is telling me we should definitely start getting you home."
the group sends the two off to grab their taxi outside, bidding farewells and orders to make sure you have your driver pull over if you have to throw up, sae! you better take good care of him, callum! as saeroi's flimsy mess of drunken arms and legs plop ungracefully into the backseat ahead of callum. their driver eyes the blonde through the rearview but says nothing; callum takes it as a signal to buckle both of themselves in.
he shifts to look at saeroi again and counts the number of street lights that glaze over his silhouette until he gets tired of counting past twenty-nine. even shrouded in darkness in the rear of their taxi and brief supercuts of his features against the lights does nothing to convince callum otherwise of the undeniable warmth growing deep in his chest. his eyes already seemingly half-lidded, callum nudges the male's knee with his own. "hey, don't fall asleep on me," he chuckles, nudging him again with a bit more energy to it. the roles feel reversed, and callum is suddenly finding himself craving for that stare from saeroi again as he teasingly attempts to jostle him awake. "hey, sae— sae, wake up," he leans in to whisper, "you like corn cream soup, right?"
there's no response to her initial soft call for help, and danbi feels the resolve she had built up a few moments ago begin to crumble. she feels her chest begin to tighten, thumping heart beginning to pick up pace and squeeze itself against her ribcage. with callum either fast asleep, so much in a deep slumber that he couldn't hear her quiet, albeit persistent knocks, or not home at all, she's not sure where to turn. she could head upstairs, perhaps see if nari or nic were willing to let her inside, but the thought of the power outage extending outside her apartment frightens her, and the idea of being stuck inside a pitch black, motionless elevator is enough to deter her altogether from even attempting to go up to a different floor of the apartment building. danbi lets out a shaky breath, taking a step back from callum's door and surveying the other apartments on the floor - she could try one of those, but she doesn't know anyone else particularly well enough to consider disturbing them.
it's fine, it's fine. you're fine. she repeats the mantra inside her head a few times, trying to will herself to remain calm. there's a small voice inside of her chastising her for being scared of the dark - she's an adult, after all, and it's silly to be frightened of such a thing when there's no clear reason for it. there's more horrifying things out there in the world, but she can't shake this trepidation sinking into her skin, plaguing her mind with all sorts of paranoia. the thought of heading back to her apartment, shrouded in darkness with no other signs of life besides her lone self, to sit there for hours on end until the sun rises, makes her stomach begin to twist. she just couldn't do it. it feels too much like something she can't remember, something she can't make out or understand, but it's something heavy and distressing, looming over her small frame and rendering her helpless. she doesn't know what it is, but she just knows it's frightful, and she's so lost in her own fears that she doesn't even hear the ding! of the elevator down the hall.
"callum," she exclaims quietly, a soft gasp leaving her when he makes his presence known, dropping his bag at his face and addressing her, his voice gentle and warm, grin curving at the ends of his mouth. she feels her stomach twist once more as a flood of emotions course through her - surprise, because he had startled her by suddenly materializing, and then anxiety, because she still feels the apprehension of everything picking at her skin. relief comes soon afterwards, because he's home, and that means she's safe. means she's no longer alone. and then she feels the heavy guilt settle in, seeing his welcoming smile, because she is sure he'd much rather spend his evening relaxing as opposed to dealing with her concerns.
there's a split second where she looks at him, considering what to do, doe-eyes shinning with unsaid emotion, toying with the idea of being vulnerable, but ultimately pushes it aside. danbi takes the emotions and fears and buries them inside, instead offering a small smile in his direction. don't be a burden. "i know, i'm sorry, it is really late," she says after a beat or two, having needed a moment to regain her composure. she still feels uneasy though, and can't resist pulling the stuffed animal closer to her chest. "i'm wondering if i could use your phone to call the landlord?" she tucks the bear beneath her chin, unsure if she should add more context. "mine died, so i can't get ahold of them myself."
if it's one thing callum and danbi share, it's their emotions. and while callum has mastered the art of compartmentalizing and being able to hide what's on his mind — always remaining calm under pressure — danbi is outwardly expressive, callum has quickly learned. he watches the play-by-play of the thoughts that flood her mind, guiding her from a silent point of contention in herself to a gentle softening of her posture. he takes it as his own sign to stretch and crack his own back, taking a mental note of how her expression changes once more, this time into something more avoidant.
he doesn't pry. he lets her talk and gives her a moment after she's finished in case there's any afterthoughts to come from her end. callum has learned the delicate intricacies of danbi's demeanor, having come to realize her fears of taking up too much space or one's time — a fear he doesn't want her to feel around him. "trust me — i've had much later nights than this," he reassures her, sensing her discomfort. callum reaches out to his keypad to type his passcode to open his apartment door and gestures for her to enter first. "here, come in, it's awkward standing in the hall."
his apartment glows a calming blend of purple and blue from his low lights when she steps in, set off by motion sensors. there's no better feeling than stepping into your apartment after a long day and having things tidy and exactly where you left them. he bends down to begin undoing his shoes and looks up to see that look in danbi's eyes that tells him something is off. "uh, sure, you can try, but i don't know if they're going to answer this late... is there something wrong with your unit?"
he eyes the stuffed animal practically suffocating in her arms and realizes she won't step into his home until he properly invites her in. "here, come here," callum gestures danbi to follow her to his couch and shifts a pillow over for her to sit. "you can sit down. have you eaten anything? how long were you outside waiting?"
are you bored yet? @niccho / ansong fall carnival ... continued from these texts that, in fact, did talk callum into wearing an actual superman costume underneath his clark kent costume
the last thing callum looks for in public is attention. he still can't wrap his head around when people have to stare when he's putting out fires — yeah, sure, they can be scary and dangerous, but why is it that disasters always leave people more dazed and confused, rooted to the spot, when they have every free will not to? why not run? is destruction really that fascinating?
but also, couldn't the same be said for halloween costumes? did everyone really have to be so obvious when they were choosing to stare?
"i should just let you go without that damn thing." the two of them are a comedically stark contrast of one another, nic's twisted garb of thin sheeted fabric wrapped scantily around his torso and waist to cover him in only the most necessary areas while callum is... a very unhappy looking and fully clothed clark kent. he tugs at the collar of his dress shirt uncomfortably. in the midst of the halloween stalls and carnival rides and everything else overloaded their senses, nic had misplaced his phone which equated to a mild public freakout and callum's drive to jump out of this costume even more severe.
his sixth attempt to call nic's voice comes with no avail. callum's screen goes dark and he blows a small raspberry with his lips, mentally thumbing through his recollections all the stalls and benches they'd been at during the day. he eyes his friend's costume again and squints at a sudden realization. "wait a minute. that thing doesn't have pockets or anything? you were just holding your phone the entire day? when was the last time you remember having it?"
daeho’s not even sure how he’s ended up in this situation.
it had started when a few of his coworkers from illusion had pitched the idea of a group outing at the carnival. all of them like to celebrate, the dark at night, most enjoy the season as a whole. they’d had food, a drink or two. one of the girls had brought a flask filled with homemade spiced whiskey they’d shared, not enough of it to go around for anyone to get more than buzzed but definitely enough for daeho to have a good time.
and then there’d been the dare. daeho doesn’t get creeped out easily - he watches bad horror movies for fun sometimes, in the dark in bed - but the friend he’d been with had, turning around after the second corner to hurry back towards the exit. daeho could’ve gone with him, but the maze is well-decorated. he likes exploration. and, more importantly: he’d wasted money on this he’s not willing to throw out the window this easily.
so he spends the next few minutes poking at props, laughing when he hears screams in the distance and trying not to scare himself into startling. it is, admittedly, less easy when you’re in the middle of it all and know you’re by yourself. after the third zombie jumping out at him he takes a moment to gather himself, leans against the wall and stares at the huge spider head hanging down opposite him. if he were a head taller, he could probably get his hair tangled up in the fake webbing.
maybe it’s because he’s engrossed in looking or maybe because the soft padding they’ve put on the ground muffles sound so well, but daeho jumps when someone walks right into him, a bit wide-eyed as he turns towards the guy - and realises it’s just callum, who’s reaching out to steady him. “dude, you scared me. what the hell, i thought there was nobody in this section.”
he takes a moment to gather himself, glad he didn’t scream or anything equally embarrassing. maybe the booze has made him a little less alert to his surroundings after all. “uh, no, but there were two girls like five minutes ago that were looking around a lot. might’ve been the decor though.” he studies callum in his costume. daeho’s not even really dressed up tonight; he’d thrown on the cloak he’d gotten for the monster mash bash and called it a day. “why, you lost?”
"sorry, sorry," a pang of guilt hits callum in that moment as he sees daeho's typically composed composition turn to something a little more unsettled; on top of it all, the sensory overload just creates even more layers to the slight tense feeling of being in the maze. with the combination of sound effects at maximum volume, strobe lights, actors hiding behind corners and hidden crevices in the walls, everything feels like it's moving at an extra half beat.
he feels dumb that he's lost his group and now he's wandering the maze alone. the warehouse they decided to build the haunted maze in also clearly has poor ventilation, enough that callum has to fan himself with no reprieve. the way daeho’s shoulders are tense, just slightly, doesn’t go unnoticed, and guilt prickles again at the edges of his consciousness. it’s easy to forget how disorienting the whole setup can be, even if they’re both supposed to be here to have fun.
callum shifts his weight to his right foot, glancing around at the dimly lit, web-strewn surroundings. shadows flicker and twist unnervingly with every strobe flash, and the scent of fake fog clings heavy in the air. he's accustomed to the stuffiness and overstimulation, but without anyone with him, it feels a little lackluster. "no," he answers daeho a little too quickly; clearing his throat and wiping his nose, he shifts his weight to his other foot this time. he's not lost — just temporarily isolated. "i mean... i got separated from my friends, so i've been waiting here for a bit to see if i could find them, but it's been awhile. i don't know if they're that severely lost or what, but i'm thinking at this point it's probably better to just meet them all at the exit."
maybe it comes across a little too cold-hearted, but callum trusts they'll find their ways. eventually. the sounds were just beginning to really give him a headache, and the spandex was bunching underneath his slacks enough that he needed somewhere to go readjust. another strobe light paired with the sound effect of a loud crash of thunder later illuminates the look daeho gives him. he wishes more than anything he could've had just a cape to call it a day instead of this synthetic nightmare. "we're actually not far from the exit. i can tell from the patterns of the maze we're basically at the end — if you're not waiting for anyone, you're welcome to tag along."
i've got all this ringing in my ears and none on my fingers @unloveful / illusion
despite his numerous claims that he doesn't like going out, callum is, well — still out fairly often.
but it starts out casual, okay. one beer at the bar is not how tonight pans out. that one beer turns into being poked and prodded into going to illusion for just a few hours (we'll even pay your cover! they say) which in turn becomes a night of being subjected to eardrum numbing bass combined with the smell of gross, sweaty bodies. callum nurses a watery sprite for a long while before the combined friend groups of his and saeroi's' begin to congregate at one table to discuss their next move.
callum is over it, frankly, and being the most sober friend is pretty lame anyway. it's a little before one in the morning and between having to feign socializing and shouting uselessly over the bass for hours, him and his hoarseness have had enough for the night.
his eyes flicker to saeroi, who though callum was almost positive becausehedoesn'tactuallypaythatmuchattentiontosaeroihejusthappenedtobegoodatkeepingmentaltabsonpeople had already had:
two green tea shots
one long island (this one was callum's fault — saeroi said he was going to the bar and there was a level of entrancement callum was under when he saw how much offering to buy him a drink lit him up, so he had to buy him something, okay)
half a bottle of soju
and in true saeroi fashion, the male looks nothing short of sober, at least until you look at him long enough to pick up on his subtle sway.
"i'm gonna get a cab home," callum announces untriumphantly to the group after they begin to mull over ideas about sitting in front of convenience stores and smoking cigarettes while they sobered up. not appealing. he would much rather eat the cost of a forty-thousand won cab ride home than have to stay out any much longer. he plants his feet to the ground and wraps a stabling arm around saeroi's side to stop the swaying. "g'na steal him, too," he gives the blond a teasing pinch at the waist. the group knows they live in the same building and give little to any pushback on sending saeroi home; if anything, by the looks of his glossy complexion and lack of any reasonable logic as to why saeroi should stay out longer, callum makes the executive decision on his behalf. he nudges him at the hip. "you good with that plan?"
"i said-" she paused momentarily. okay, she'd forgotten what she'd said so instead, she tilted her head to look at him. "i'm glad it's you!" she said giggling softly. her head still swam with the influence of sweet liquor and her brain could barely process the words that he was saying to her. all she knew was that she was overwhelmed with his presence, a sensation she felt almost every time they collided. as he guided her hand away from his face, a soft pout settled on her lips and she let out a quiet huff. "i'm just sleepy," she confessed softly as she looked up at him, her pout only furthering in its protrusion as she leaned against him.
her face buried against his neck, her smudged makeup threatening to leave itself on his uniform as she clung to him following him from the building. she winced slightly as she heard the club owner fussing behind them. usually, she'd have apologized or at least pulled out the weapon of her tears so she didn't get banned but she was sure, as one of their most loyal patrons, they wouldn't be that mad at her. she even offered a loving wave and a pout as they made their way outside.
water. that was what she needed now. something to stop the throbbing in her head as they stepped into the outside air. "thirsty," she said softly as she gripped callum's arm. her possibly one-sided crush on the fireman was much harder to hide when she was intoxicated that was for sure. she was more than a little handsy and her words, if nothing else, gave her away.
tinnitus rings in callum's ears as he watches june's mouth move but the words just are not making sense. there is no momentary pause his brain needs to take to understand her completely, but more-so the way he thinks his brain is playing tricks on him the moment she changes her tone. sure, she's intoxicated and might be just speaking with no filter, but there's a layer beneath this callum knows is there, hidden deep beneath the distractions of the universe that keep him vigilant to their surroundings.
the furrow of his brows can't even say enough about the confusion he's feeling as body falls against him, petite and warm. it's then that callum asks his partner if he's got an extra shirt or sweatshirt in his bag to cover june's exposed upper body. he tries to push back club patrons in their walk of shame out of the building, the sea of curious eyes following them out through the door and into the parking lot where their firetruck had been parked.
callum sits her down in the back, trying not to draw much attention to her hands consistently finding their way back to his bicep each time he tries to scoot to the other side. he prepares some paperwork while she drinks her water in hopes of sobering her up as quickly as possible. "here," he passes her a small pile of papers and an accompanying pen and evades making direct eye contact. "it's required by the department. i need you to sign where the x's are to sign off that you've been cleared by the fire department to go. it's just a thing people have to sign if we show up." prying june from a locked bathroom at illusion was not part of callum's bingo card tonight.
he eyes the emptied bottle of water held in a death grip and stands to grab another from his bag. "keep hydrating," callum instructs. his voice is low and gentle, not intentionally bossy, but firm. he knows in the back of his mind this sort of scenario could potentially get her into some trouble. he bites his inner cheek and runs his tongue over the bottoms of his teeth, thinking through his options in a moment of silence before sighing and raising his gaze to meet hers again.
he knows this could potentially play out in countless ways he's not really sure he wants to mull over for too long, because if he does, he's going to change his mind. "let's give it a few minutes, and i'll take you home." the overhead lighting illuminates the highlighter over her cheekbones and comes to the biased conclusion that her wonder woman costume must've been an absolute knockout. he remembered her mentioning it to him days prior to the holiday after he'd mentioned the conversation with nic to her, only now connecting the dots.
though disheveled, june still managed to glitter.
he nudges the new bottle in her hand and takes the old one to discard when he notices her beginning to doze. "hey, don't fall asleep on me. drink."
nic: 😐😐😐 are u saying i'm not hot bc the me myself and i jury came to a unanimous decision nic: well that's too damn bad nic: no i'm cupid i can't be superman nic: how would that make you jobless on HALLOWEEN dude tell ur boss to pull the stick outta his ass nic: what do u think a wingman is for 🤨
callum: that's not how juries work sorry to inform you callum: should i block you callum: you can change your costume callum: whyyyyy do i have to be him................ can i not just go as myself callum: i mean how would you feel if you called the police or fire dept and someone showed up dressed as LITERAL superman callum: pretty sure wingmen are for when you're trying to date someone and i'm not trying to do that 🤨
› growing together with @solstitios . . . 🌱
there's something unnerving about the darkness - perhaps that the shadows can be deceiving, forming inky silhouettes that morph into things from nightmares, or the fact that there is no shadow at all, but in the shrouded abyss sits the hint of something sinister and wicked and all things frightening. the onset of panic gnaws at her each time she encounters the dark, but she can't put her finger on what makes her so uncomfortable. she has no recollection of anything traumatizing, like being locked in a dark closet for hours or watching a particularly terrifying film, but then again, danbi doesn't seem to remember much at all - simply, she just knows she doesn't like the dark, just like how she knows she likes matcha, gardening and soft and endearing, doe-eyed stuffed animals. speaking of which, one of her beloved plushies is held close to her chest in one arm as the other raises up, knuckles curled and gently rapping against the front door of callum's apartment.
under any other circumstances, she wouldn't be bothering him - she knows that being a firefighter means working both late and odd hours, and that being home at all probably doesn't come frequent to him. but danbi wasn't sure where else to turn, not when she had woken up in the middle of the night to her apartment being pitch black and her phone dead, having died sometime during the night due to the power outage. she had been so disoriented, waking up startled in the darkness, having grown accustomed to the soft glow of her fairy lights in her room to keep her safe, that it was a wonder she even managed to make it over here after wandering around her apartment and bumping into almost everything she owned.
"c-callum . . . are you home?" she whispers against the doorframe, wanting to be mindful of their neighbors, but hating the slight tremble in her voice. danbi takes a small breath, as though trying to dispel her nerves. she tries to steel her resolve, but the fact she's standing here in her pajamas with her stuffed animal in her arms, wearing mismatched shoes, shows that she's not quite as calm and level-headed as she normally was. "could i please use your phone to see if i can get ahold of the landlord?"
night has never been something callum has feared. in fact, it's something he embraces.
things move slower. people get quieter. the world sleeps and callum can breathe. there's a fog that surrounds his memory of how he ended up being twenty-seven and a guy who just wishes he could be in bed by sunset when everyone else his age still seem to have the gumption to stay awake for much, much longer. the younger lieutenants at work impress him, really — the way they can work a twelve hour shift and still manage to find themselves at illusion; perhaps its the adrenaline that turns these men into insomniacs. callum falls under that spell sometimes too, though not so much with the party scene — more-so the countless hours he's spent staring up into the dark at his ceiling apartment because all the articles these days that tell him how bad it for your circadian rhythm to stare at your phone in the dark (and he can only imagine how much worse adding alcohol would be on top of it).
it doesn't frighten him; if anything, he welcomes it with open arms. maybe he just needs a really, really long session in a sensory deprivation tank.
it's been another countless long night that makes callum even more excited to go home, shower off the smell of smoke and go to sleep for a million years (the irony). his boots trudge heavily down the hallway as he wonders to himself why he chose the farthest room from the elevator — nights like this just made the walk feel like eternity.
except tonight there's danbi's figure standing at his door, adorned in her pajamas and looking quite distressed. it's late, too. his heart softens and in her presence finds the coil in his back to spring his shoulders back to life, readjusting his posture to stand taller even despite the weight of the day still heavy.
"hey," he greets her softly, careful not to be too loud to disturb their neighbors. once he's closer, he can see the clear look of distress tangled in the furrow of her brows. callum drops the duffel bag he'd had slung over a shoulder at his feet and immediately feels that need to begin fixing things creep up from his core, through his torso and up to his neck. it's inevitable.
still in his station slacks and cotton 'ansong fire department' t-shirt, callum notes her incongruity in choice of slippers, but only smiles and looks back up at her. he does a bad job at trying to hide his chuckle, because in all honesty, it's hard not to find her endearing even when she seems clearly concerned about something. "you okay? it's really late. did something happen?"
happiness looks good on you channie ♡
alpha dog @kkotdaun late oct, ???? / ansong fall carnival
what callum pictured to be the perfect ending to his night — no last minute calls on the radio, no spur of the moment dumpster fires to put out (garbage fires are the most common fires! callum always feels the need to remind anybody and everybody willing to listen) and being able to go home to his cozy shoebox that callum was beginning to enjoy more and more as the daylight of the fall days grew shorter and nights longer. on days he could actually spend at home he found solace in his own presence, how he could spend as long as humanly possible saturated in his own stillness. october was almost over, which meant the season of hibernation was quickly approaching; he didn't know why winter was his favorite season, but there was just something about the slowness and ease of the season that calmed him, smoothed out the wrinkles of his occasional anxieties.
often, the only sounds that came from his apartment would be the sounds of his cooking or a frustrated grunt playing video games. except these days with how often he was working, there wasn't much time for callum to play at home, really — and on the days even when he really wanted to, there was always showering and eating dinner that took precedence. by the time he could find time to unwind, he was already on the verge of nodding off.
he has nari to thank for this. he knows he's slightly anti-social — trying to hit her with a small smile and tell her that he was too tired and just going to head home when they bumped into each other. but there's that push and the second wind that follows when she starts talking up big game to him — two traits that callum doesn't know where he got them from — that keep him at the carnival rather than going home. he tells her just one game. and then that game turns into another. and another. and one more.
"okay," he breathes as they both purposely lose the water gun shooting game to a group of elementary aged kids next to them. he watches them for a moment and laughs before he turns to look at her, finding her gaze. "i do need to start thinking about heading home after this. i'll play one more round with you."
nari is pretty good. she's got a good handle on throwing darts and popping balloons, but shooting water at a target is literally his job. "how about best 3 out of 5?" he gestures a head shrug and eyes pointed upward in front of them to an oversized stuffed prize. he doesn't plan to keep it even if he wins their little tournament, but plays himself up like he will anyway. his smile turns from soft to something a little more cunning. "are you sure you want to play me at the water guns out of all your options here?"
LORD JIM dir. Richard Brooks | 1965
nic: ok well its sexy when i'm cupid 😐 nic: probably a lot but this aint about me nic: its comfy its breathable idk whats so uncomfy about it nic: ok but if someone showed up to save me wearing a skin tight superman suit i'd probably feel faint in a good way nic: CMON wear the suit it'll be a hit. i'll be ur wingman
callum: is it though 😐😐 by which jury determined this callum: i would rather this be about you callum: if it's so comfy and breathable why don't YOU be him for halloween callum: you know i would literally lose my job if i wore just that... are you trying to make me jobless callum: what do i need a wingman for???
parties were june's thing. a place where she could get lost and feel comfortable. that was why when she'd heard about the monster mash bash she'd been more than a little excited. she was convinced this year would be her best costume yet. with handmade fairy wings and a costume that any girl like her who loved cottagecore could appreciate, she was ready for the night. the glitter that donned her cheeks and the highlight that accentuated that round nose of hers made everything complete but if she was being honest with herself, she'd practically run herself into the ground that week.
being an instructor or two short, she'd taught more classes in the past week than she'd taught in months meaning that her little body could barely keep up with the pace of what she was asking. a night at illusion was something of a miracle after how much energy she'd spent earlier that day. still, she wouldn't let a little bout of sore muscles and lightheadedness stop her from pursuing the perfect pocket of the beat to dance to. a few shots and a martini down the hatch and she was ready to go.
Hour One. june's feet carried her across the floor as she danced in sync with perfect strangers, throwing her hands up above her head as her body moved to the beat. she was intoxicating with the way she moved. Hour Two. june downed another drink. the alcohol is having the opposite effect on her and she can barely keep her eyes open. Hour Three. june's heading to the bathroom. as much as she doesn't want to admit it she's sleepy and she's hoping a small splash of water on her face will wake her up.
that's not how it works out, though. it only takes one splash of water to june's face to realize she's more than a little tired and when she makes her way to the stall, she thinks to herself, i'll just take a little nap and the next thing she knows, she's leaning up against the wall being woken up by a handsome and yet familiar face. the alcohol hadn't completely worn off and she's glad it hadn't because in a sober situation, she'd be too embarrassed to speak. "oh- look who it is. my handsome hero," the women speaks in clear english, her australian accent heavy almost as if she'd forgotten how to speak korean in her drunken stupor. she raised a hand resting it on his cheek and smiling. "i was hoping i'd see you again soon,"
there is a paradigm shift somewhere in the universe when june speaks. callum knows, because he feels it; he's not able to immediately connect the dots, because everything that happens in ansong is just so vast and out of his measly lack of control that there's no explanation for what he feels in the moment. but it's there. it's evidently there.
it's a feeling of confusion that spills into familiarity; watercolors seeping from one shade of blue to something more subtle. june's voice catches him off guard, a quick volt of astonishment shooting from the tips of his fingers down his body, past his torso, through his calves and all the way to his feet. he's glad he's kneeling, because the way she has completely stupefied him on the spot would have probably made his knees buckle. he blinks back at her in response, the hard drive in his head lacking the processing power to register this fast enough.
"what?" he manages to answer back, dumbfounded, but doesn't respond in english. but what the fuck — callum didn't know june knew english, and he most certainly knew that accent from somewhere. it's going to leech onto his brain for the rest of the night and until june is back home. she's just so intoxicated that she's just talking nonsense, he tells himself to avoid thinking too much into her comments; for now, he compartmentalizes his surprise and gives his own head a small joggle to get himself back to his task at hand. whether he knew june or not, he was on the job, and he had to prioritize her well-being over anything else.
"june," he says again as he reaches to guide her hand away from his face and settles it back in her lap. callum gets a better view of her now: eye makeup conglomerated at the corners of her eyes and down onto the apples of her cheeks. she looks tired, but the kind of tired callum thinks was something he'd given up ages ago. he turns to ask his partner to go get a bottle of water from the bar. "hey, i know you've probably had a lot to drink, but we have to take you home now. my partner's grabbing you some water. let's get you outside."
mindful of her not losing her balance, callum holds her carefully by the forearms as he helps show her back to her feet. the club manager begins to make a fuss behind him, complaining about how ridiculous it was for her to cause such a scene at his business over falling asleep in the bathroom for so long. callum lets him vent, knowing all too well june was likely to in no way remember any of this in the morning. his partner comes back just as they begin walking her out into the hallway, handing her an uncapped bottle to drink.
it's a small world @usb4 oct 31, ???? / in the maze
he's absolutely too tired for this.
dumb. dumb. dumb. dumb idea to agree to a maze in the dark. dumb idea to say you're going to take the lead in the group of your friends because you could navigate a burning building blindfolded. dumb idea because your friends are not trained to navigate networks of unfamiliar paths and being able to easily self-orient. dumb idea because now you're the one that's separated from the rest of your group. dumb. dumb. dumb.
(way to go, lieutenant, thought this was your full time job?)
it's not a matter of callum being lost now, no — even with the trick mirrors and smoke screens and the dimly lit halls of the re-purposed warehouse turned house of horrors — it's a matter of he is very much separated from his group, and therefore, everyone else must is lost and likely very far behind. at this point, everyone has probably been scattered.
after ten or so minutes of trying three different paths he'd committed to memory with no avail, he decides to wait. not something a firefighter would actually be trained to do in an active fire, but aside from trying to increase his chances of encountering someone from his group staying still, the cheap polyester from his costume nic had spent days convincing him of was becoming all but comfortable under his slacks and dress shirt. again, unnecessary layers — another thing he was not trained to wear. he was never letting him talk him into wearing a costume ever again.
now fifteen minutes into losing his group and growing antsy from wanting to leave, callum decides to wander a few more turns. he makes a deal with himself that if he doesn't run into any friends in the next five minutes that he'd find his way out alone.
suddenly there's immediate impact against another body around a dark turn that catches callum off guard and stammers backwards. "shit, sorry — my bad," he recoils almost immediately from the brute force and reaches out forward to the outline of the figure almost to help stabilize their own posture. he puts a hand on the silhouette when he sees the outline of a man, offering a quick "you good?" before the face registers. "oh, damn, daeho. sorry, man. i shouldn't have taken the corner so sharp."
callum doesn't know too much about the male who funny enough shares the same wall he does back at home, but from what he's gathered about his neighbor thus far, he seems like the kind of guy who knows how to navigate a maze well. at least, that's how he would come across to a firefighter who clearly has failed his own mission. "hey, you didn't happen to run into anybody who said they got separated from their friend, did you?"
by (popular?) demand, aka nic has forced him to wear the suit and secretly entered callum into the costume contest : callum as clark kent / sort of superman
