#cal be drawing n shit

[inkcubusvt]

Day 1: self portrait

staring the 30 day #improvementhell by @pencilcat !!

timelapsce under the cut pookster

also the drawing has no eyebrows as i have no brows... in tradgoth fashion that shit has been shaved!

FLASH-WARNING NEAR THE 25 MIN MARK !

[oorangesoda]

I don’t claim to know much about transformers

All I know is bumblebee is my beloved and has been since I watched my first transformers movie as a kid

I don’t know what this says about me

[ferzpuupu]

um hi im back n someone wanted cal strokin it so here ya go

i swear i didnt plan to draw this type of shit when i started posting on tumblr

uncensoreddd https://t.me/caldrezerosayyaoigaysexorgy

[sorceresssundries]

Thunder and Lace

Pairing: Rolan x Fem reader

Summary: The very busy and important master of Ramazith's tower is instructed to spend the day wearing your delicate, lacy underwear.

Warnings: Tail play, Smut

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: So, the brain worm evolved. This is a treato for my pal @orangekittyenergy! (Not completely selfless, I have very much being enjoying the thought of Rolan in lacy underwear.)

You watch him from your comfortable position in bed, still dozing. The space next to you, where Rolan had been just minutes ago, is now cool and empty. Your leg feels forlorn without his tail hugged round it, as is his habit while he rests -  mooring himself to you even in the dreamy tides of sleep.

“Come back to bed,” you murmur, your voice thick with leftover tiredness.

“Can’t. Cal organised the scrolls completely inadequately yesterday, he has muddled up all the abjuration and conjuration sections like a dolt.” he mutters something else as he moves around the room, but it is infernal and too low for you to make out. His tail swishes with annoyance, and all you can think about is the squeezing heat of it. 

You slip out from beneath the covers, still in the underwear you slept in, and press yourself against his back as he ties up his hair. Your lips, swollen from the night’s fervent kisses and playful bites, brush softly against the freckles adorning the strong, defined planes of his shoulders. The early morning light filters stubbornly through the closed curtains. 

“I’ll make it worth your while” you hum against the warmth of his skin.

“I…” He begins to protest, but his words flicker out with his resolve. You trace a finger down his spine, drawing slow, gentle lines around the base of his tail, bumping down and over the ridges that just hours ago you were grinding against in a maddening heat. Reaching around, you stroke his erection as intently you did then. His breathing hitches, caught off guard by the same memory. He turns to press his forehead against yours, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. “Seductress,” he purrs.

“Me?!” You bat your eyes at him innocently and move your fingers until you are raking through his coarse, dark pubic hair. His erection bumps against your abdomen. You lean forward, pushing your nose against the soft skin below his ear, catching his musky scent as you gently suck on his earlobe before whispering, “I could be much, much worse.”

There is a moment of heavy hunger where you think you have won, and Rolan will drop his duties like coins down a well and spend the entire day chasing pleasure with you in streaks of sunlight and stretched out hours. 

The moment passes. 

“Shit,” he mutters, noticing the time. “I’m going to be late.” You love seeing him like this—all his sharp thoughts blunted. He’s the wickedly clever archmage, the gifted master of one of the most prominent Wizard’s Towers on the Sword Coast, yet you’ve reduced him to a word-wrecked mess of a man more times than you can count. Around you, his sentences slip and his concentration crumbles into dust. It makes you giddy.

“I can’t find my underwear,” he says, rummaging through his drawers. You smirk. It’s tricky to be empathetic when you’re very much enjoying watching him storm around the room naked. His face bears that indignant little frown he wears so well, and his lithe tail flicks around in annoyance. A dishonourable person would probably have hidden his things on purpose just to elicit this kind of delicious reaction… or as part of a wicked plan.

“Here,” you say, sliding your delicate, lacy underwear down your legs with a shimmy. “You can wear these.” You throw them to him nonchalantly, and he is so taken aback he doesn’t even try to catch them. They land on his shoulder, draping in wait—a black web of flimsy lace against his claret skin.

You act as casually as if you’ve just handed him a hairbrush or a towel. You move around the room, tidying up clutter and beginning your morning routine, all the while relishing his stunned reaction.

“Are you kidding?” He thinks you are teasing him. 

You move back to him and rake your nails gently along his erection, burning your gaze into his. "Do I look like I'm kidding?" you murmur.

He hisses and tilts his head back in pleasure. You take the underwear off his shoulder and kiss down his body—slowly, reverently. His hands clench and unclench at his sides. You know he desperately wants to run his nails over your skin and ball them in your hair, but he won’t. Not unless you tell him to.

You lower yourself until you are kneeling on the ground in front of him, and you notice that even his toes are curled. 

“Step into them.” You say as you press a heavy kiss to his calf. He does as he is told, placing a foot carefully into each gap. Pretty impressive given his legs are shaking. You pull them slowly up his legs, letting the lace chase your licks and kisses up his skin. You pause as you get to his erection, and give it a long, indulgent stroke with your tongue before finishing your task and stepping back to admire your work. 

The black lace of your underwear looks sinful against his crimson skin. It is tight against his muscle, and he is straining against it - desperate to get to you.  Luckily, your curves mean the fit isn’t too tight. He looks delicious, perhaps you would let him wear your silken negligee next. 

“How do they feel?”

“Restrictive.” he says running his finger around the waistband “And, erm.. Damp” His golden eyes were molten. 

“Well, I awoke from a very vivid dream about you, my love.” You curve your body into him, and move close enough to let your breath dance with his. “Well, less of a dream and more of a memory” He makes a whiny little noise which makes your stomach twist. “I hope the busy and important Master of the tower doesn't get too distracted thinking about how tight, and wet they are all day long.”

It proves too much. His lips crash against yours, starving. You smile and allow him a few moments to taste the heat of your tongue before pulling away.

“You’re very late.” 

“Fuck.” He says, prising himself away from you pulling on the rest of his robes in a clumsy rush. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, flushed and unkempt.

“Fuck. Ok” He kisses you once, chastely, and then again. And once more… “Ok, i’m going now.” You giggle as he doesn’t move and presses another kiss to your cheek, your nose, and then one final one to your mouth. “Fuck” He tears himself away, practically falling out the door to get to work. 

After a long and luxurious shower you drag yourself through the portal to help out around the shop. It’s so crowded with people asking repetitive, inane questions that you barely have any time to flirt with Rolan. It makes you feel pouty, especially thinking about how grumpy and uncomfortable he must be in your restrictive underwear. You just want to play with him. 

After a while, you finally seize a brief respite and saunter over to where he is engrossed in paperwork and mundane administrative tasks behind the front desk. He wears his best surly look, the one you adore stealing away with a few well-placed kisses across the freckles that dapple his stern features. His frown used to be stone-carved, his demeanour so clouded and thunderous you worried the sun might never reach him. But you slipped through, like sunrise and sea breeze, slowly and gently wearing down his defences. It took gentle hands and even gentler words, but now, the moments when he reverts to his familiar frowns are a sweet reminder of how easily they can pass.

“Are you alright, my love?” you ask with sparkling innocence as you perch next to him on the counter. “You look a little out of sorts.” 

He looks at you as though you are a fire he wishes to extinguish.

"I am perfectly fine, thank you." He kisses you on the cheek in a perfunctory, reflexive manner that makes you grin. You are a part of his routine, and the idea that he reaches for you instinctively, as if pulled by gravity, makes your heart flutter. He is your sun. A grumpy sun, but yours nonetheless.

“What a relief! For a second, I thought you looked little… Distracted.”

He brushes past you to grab a book, and as he does his fingers graze across your thigh. Too briefly, too gently. 

“I wouldn’t be much of an archmage if I let myself get distracted, now would I?” He gives a sultry smile, but his eyes deliberately avoid yours. You know it’s because if he met your gaze, you’d see the barely contained fluster in them.

You let your hand brush against his, and hear the quickening of his breath. "Good to know. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for keeping the great Rolan from his important duties."

He finally looks at you, his eyes back to molten gold ."You are a menace," he says, but there’s no real bite to his words.

You answer with a wink, a wicked grin spreading across your face.

You start to work away next to him, flicking through various notes and business accounts at the desk, and you feel a pressure against your ankle that makes you gasp, until you look down and see Rolan’s tail starting to twist its way around your ankle, slow as a creeping vine.

You turn to glare at him, but he doesn't acknowledge you at all, just carries on making a list of inventory. 

Sometimes, in moments of concentration, his tail reaches for you involuntarily. As natural and instinctive as a plant reaching for sunlight. Is this one of those times? The purposeful creep of the tail under your robes and up your calf makes it feel as though there's definite intention in its journey.

You don’t have time to play your next move.

“‘Scuse me,” comes a voice at the counter. “I bought a potion recipe from you, but I can’t seem to get it right. Could you talk me through it?”

Rolan, usually standoffish and curt towards 'idiots who wouldn’t know a hill giant’s finger from a dried sausage,' is surprisingly cheerful towards the customer.

“Why, of course. My delightful and highly knowledgeable associate here would be happy to go over every detail with you, wouldn’t you, Tav?” His eyes glint, and his tail squeezes you slightly.

“Erm, yes. Of course.” The man, a dwarf, barely taller than the counter, luckily cannot see Rolan’s tail disappearing under your robes.

He asks you to go through each step of the potion in detail, hoping to pinpoint his mistake. You lean over the desk, arms folded tightly, trying to focus on the instructions. You dare not look at Rolan, who stands next to you, still writing a list on that infernal piece of paper. How is he multitasking so well? You think about how uncomfortable he must be in your underwear now; His scent would have mingled with yours, the two of you blending into the delicate gusset of the skimpy, thin piece of material. Later, when you were alone, you would tear it from him with your teeth and...

“Excuse me? Miss…”

The man is frowning at you; you had drifted off to a whole other plane. One where Rolan’s cock sits stiff and heavy in your mouth. You swear you could hear him stifle a laugh next to you.

“Erm, yes, sorry… Right… so…” you begin to explain exactly the temperature needed to create the concoction just as the tip of Rolan’s tail reaches the soft flesh of your upper thigh. It is still sensitive and stained with the purple bites he had lavished upon you the night before, and you have to stifle a gasp as he grazes over them, the blooms of past conquests mapping his way forward.

Suddenly the tail halts, and Rolan’s posture stiffens next to you in realisation. You aren’t wearing underwear. Of course you aren’t. After slipping him into your lust-soaked lingerie, you had decided not to put on any more, determined that at some point in the day you would corner him in some private cupboard and get your underwear back from him. Stretched and well-worn.

For a second, you think he might abandon his intent, worried about his professionalism or reputation as the highly respected wizard of Baldur’s Gate. But lust must have won over sanity, as it doesn’t take long for his tail to push upwards, the length of it coiling and gently squeezing around the full length of your leg, the spade tip lightly stroking around your vulva.

How does he have so much control over it now? When it seemed so often it would wave, sway, or even vibrate without him having any say in the matter. Bloody mysterious, frustrating, sexy Tiefling.

You continue with your explanation to the now quite unimpressed customer, who is infuriatingly slow to catch on to your instructions. You refuse to let Rolan win; you would never hear the end of it.

You gasp audibly as you feel a light stroke against your clit. 

The customer frowns and raises an eyebrow at you.

“Sorry, erm, I was just shocked at how much rogue’s morsel you were using… AH…” The end of the tail has begun to vibrate softly, and Rolan is making a low, subtle purring sound next to you. Bastard.

“I’m so sorry…” you say as professionally as you can to the customer through gritted teeth. “I just need to… ah… get to the store cupboard to see if we have…” You can feel the clenching building and building in that low point of your abdomen. You absolutely cannot fall apart leaning against the counter where you work. “...have the ingredients you need, if you’d excuse me I’ll just be two minutes, illberightbackimsosorry” you manage to stutter before hastily moving away from the counter and grabbing Rolan tightly by the back of his robes, dragging him into the first supply closet you come across.

“What the hell are you thinking?!” you say as you immediately push yourself against him, licking and suckling at his exposed throat, feeling it pulse with the hot blood coursing through him - giving him away.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he gasps as you give a firm bite, not caring if you mark him. Let every citizen of Baldur’s Gate see the Master of Ramzith’s tower covered in marks like some kind of horny teenager. It was his own fault.

“You and that fucking tail,” you purr as you wind your fingers into his soft hair.

“Oh?” you feel the rumble of his chuckle vibrate against your lips on his throat. “Silly thing must have been acting of its own accord again.”

As if to punctuate his point, his tail coils around your waist, holding you firmly against him.

“Ah, I see,” you pull your face back to gaze at him fully. His eyes are lidded, his skin flushed from pink to deep scarlet. He's so beautiful. “We’ll have to do something about that.”

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you release his hair and trail your fingers down his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath. His tail tightens around you, 

You press your lips against his, fierce and hungry, and his response is immediate, his hands finding their way to your hips, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. The heat of his body seeps into yours, and it feels like you are lit from the same fire.

You break the kiss, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along his jawline and down his neck. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his fingers digging into your skin as he tries to hold onto control.

You move your hand to stroke up along his tail, grazing slow and purposeful against each raised ridge as you do. 

“Tav, wait..”

“Oh no, my love.” You voice is more breath than words. “Is this not what the damn thing wanted? All this attention?” 

Without giving him any kind of warning, you grip the base of his tail and give a sharp tug. 

The effect is immediate and his gasp choked.

You kiss him softly and keep him gripped to you as he catches his breath and regains his burnt-out composure. His forehead rests against your shoulder. 

“Oh dear, Master… did I just make you come in your pants?” your voice is smug and light.

He groans sheepishly, not looking at you. “No darling... You just made me come in yours.”

[aevellewritessometimes]

Touchstarved OCs Part 1: Cal, the Forsaken Rapscallion (The Hound)

Content Warnings: Cal's backstory contains themes of alcohol abuse, child abuse, murder, toxic relationships, sexual coercion/dubious consent, depression, and suicide ideation. There are also mentions of gang activity and homelessness, although neither get as bright or a spotlight as the other topics.

A/N: I cannot draw so I just typed everything out and used a picrew. I also cannot guarantee that all details will remain the same once the full game comes out. There are also some extra details from the Backstory portion that I will later include in the reblogs. Also the wordcount for the Backstory is 4,369 words. Sorry about that, expect it to happen again.

Other: Devlin, the Deceitful Spellcaster (TBA), Shaliah, the Wayward Prophet (TBA), Pulls and Appeals (TBA)

"The heart is a fool, always follow your head."

Playlist: YouTube {} YT Music

Character Bio

Pronouns: She/Her

Birthday: 01/12

Height: 5'4/162cm

Personality: Sociable Nihilist

Likes: Shiny trinkets, wood carving, high places, bustling atmospheres, dogs, spicy food

Dislikes: Winter, pushy people, disloyal people, the rich, being unable to sleep, yelling, drunkenness

Fatal Flaw: Once she becomes close to someone, it becomes nearly impossible for her to acknowledge that person's flaws as flaws

Other: Is a godawful flirt

Stats

Strength: 1

Luck: 2

Wisdom: 3

Healthy Coping Mechanisms: 1

Persuasiveness: 4

While Cal is more than capable of handling herself in a brawl or knife fight, she much prefers to rely on her silver tongue instead. Perhaps it's because it's the only silver thing she has left.

Flower: Black Rose

Mourning

Change

Revenge

Extra

Cal's full name is Calypso, but Cal is unaware of this.

The reason for why I chose the name Calypso is because it means "to conceal." However, in order to avoid the character being associated with the myth (seeing as I did not create her with the intent of having parallels), I chose to shorten her name to Cal. But it worked out in the end anyway, since the name Cal means "devotion."

Cannot read very well.

Cal does know thieves cant (19th century thief slang).

In the Fatal Flaw category, what I meant by "acknowledge flaws as flaws" was that while she can see a person's flaws, she will not see them as flaws. For example, if her loved one were to kill someone for no valid reason, Cal wouldn't try to say that they would never do that but instead would say that the victim probably deserved it for one reason or another.

Hates having to live at the Wet Wick and wishes to move somewhere else as soon as possible. This remains a fact even if she gets together with Leander.

Absolutely adores Princess, but it did take a minute for Cal to warm up to her.

Has a horrible case of RBF.

She has a British accent. Her home city is very 19th century London coded in terms of culture and aesthetic.

Would've been taller if she hadn't grown up malnourished.

Has the immune system of a God.

Favorite color is red, but her favorite color to wear is black.

Her spice tolerance is shit, she just likes that spicy stuff can make her feel something.

Excellent at parkour.

Allergic to cats. Is also a cat magnet.

Her hair isn't dyed, the picrew used just didn't have an option for red eyebrows

Backstory

The city called New Lovent is known for its artists, although that's really about it. Despite the city's namesake, it isn't nearly as large or busy as the founders intended for it to be. Probably because of how superstitious some people are, but most likely because of the horrible wealth-power imbalance.

   Calypso was born in New Lovent's poor district. She had a brother, Greer, who was six years older than her, along with her happily married parents; Denise and Linus

   Unfortunately, Denise was cursed; if anyone were to touch her hands, they would go mad with bloodlust.

   When Denise was pregnant with Greer, she and Linus were both very cautious when it was time to birth him, since she didn't know if the curse could be passed down.

   But then, when Greer was born clean of any curses, the two simply assumed the mother's curse wasn't genetic.

   And so, once it was time for Calypso to be born, the parent’s were much less cautious. This cost Linus his sanity  and his life.

   Calypso's life only went downhill from there.

   Denise regularly switched between blaming herself or blaming Calypso for the father's tragic end. In order to try and distract herself from this, the mother took up drinking. Some days this made it better, but it usually just made things worse for both children.

   Especially since it had gotten to the point where the mother couldn't even hold a stable job.

   Little Calypso was too young to understand much of anything that was going on, but Greer had a somewhat better grasp on the situation.

   As a matter of fact, he seemed to know too much.

   Denise frequently went on drunken rants with Greer as an unwilling audience. More often than not, the topic was how she blamed little Calypso for Linus’s death and how much she hated the girl for it.

   Greer wasn't able to see how it could've been Calypso's fault; she was just a baby, after all. What he could see, however, was exactly how much their mother hated her.

   Another thing Greer knew was that Calypso was the name of a character from one of his favorite stories that his parents would read to him a while before his sister was even born. She never mentioned why, and Greer wasn't old enough to fully understand, but the mother held a very strong hatred towards the Calypso from the story.

   Greer was a clever boy. He figured that his sister's name was a result of that hatred. Greer didn't want his sister to grow up believing she was meant to be hated. So, he started to just call her "Cal" instead.

   For the next four years, Greer did everything he could to try and help what was left of his family. If his mother couldn't hold a job, he would go around to try and find anyone willing to hire a ten-year-old. If his mother was in a mood, he would try to calm her down so she didn't take it out on Cal, or he would just take her to work with him. As long as it wasn't dangerous, anyway.

   It was enough to put food on the table, but not enough for rent. The only thing that kept them from ending up on the streets was the fact that their landlord didn't want to be the one to kick a single mother and her children out onto the streets.

   It was enough for them to survive. But it only took another year for everything to change.

   Cal wasn't quite sure of what had happened. One moment, she was just trying to sleep. Then her mother was angry again. Then Greer was standing over her with a blood-covered glass bottle. And then they were running.

   Greer wasn't fully sure what happened either. He came home from another job. His mother was yelling and Cal was screaming. Cal was covered in blood. His mother was holding a knife. He knocked her over and grabbed the first thing he could reach. Then he grabbed Cal's hand and fled from their apartment.

   What actually happened? The mother got drunk again, but it was much worse this time around; as if she had been affected by her own curse. She went for Cal while wielding a knife and aimed for the face, striking near her lips. Cal tried to get away, but she tripped and fell, resulting in a bloody nose. Greer entered at that moment, and he reacted in Cal's defense. Then, not knowing what to do, he grabbed Cal and they ran, taking nothing with them.

   The two children had very different reactions once the shock wore off:

   Cal didn't know what having a loving mother was like. From her perspective, she didn't lose an abuser, she just lost her mom. And her brother, the only person who had ever been kind to her and the only person left to care for her, was the one who landed the blow.

   Greer on the other hand had no idea what he was meant to feel. He just killed his mother. He saved his sister's life. His mother was a horrible person. His mother was a loving person, once upon a time. He was a monster. He was a hero.

   It took a few weeks of living on the streets, but eventually, Greer was able to find a new place for them to live. All he and Cal had to do was work in their new landlord's bakery up the road.

   It was mostly quiet for the next seven years.

   Cal seemed to have blocked out the memory of that night, but Greer never got over it. He turned cold, and was no longer kind to Cal. It got to the point where him calling his sister Cal was nothing more than a habit.

   Poor Cal thought nothing of it. She didn't know she was supposed to think anything of it.

   At least, not until Greer took up drinking, anyway.

   It wasn't nearly as bad as their mother's habit, but it was bad enough for Cal.

   She didn't remember much from when her mother was alive, but she remembered the smell of the alcohol, along with the yelling that always seemed to follow.

   She wasn't sure why it scared her. What she did know is that she was afraid. And what did she do the last time she had felt some kind of fear?

   She ran away, leaving everything behind.

   She was stuck out on the streets for months afterwards. It was a struggle to find any permanent spot: the part of the poor district that was furthest away from her brother gave her an odd feeling—especially since one of its residents was always staring at her whenever he saw her–-and all of the wealthier districts were strict about keeping the homeless away.

   There were several times where she contemplated just going back, especially since it had turned winter, and New Lovent's winters were particularly harsh.

   She caught a break when she happened across a small gang located in one of the alleyways that separated the wealthy district from the poor district.

   Most of the gang wanted to kill Cal for trespassing on their turf, especially since they were just discussing a heist. But the leader, Leontyne, decided Cal could potentially be useful.

   In exchange for her life, Cal would be used as a diversion whenever they needed. Since the gang needed to keep an eye on her to make sure she didn't run off and snitch, she was allowed to sleep in their area. And if a job went particularly well, they would feed her. They never gave her any form of currency, though.

   It wasn't much, but it was better than her previous conditions and therefore it was good enough for Cal.

   One member of the gang, Dolus, was a boy her age. He wasn't exactly kind, but he was friendly towards her.

   Cal had no idea how he managed to become affiliated with the gang. She wasn't sure she wanted to know, either. But she also really didn't care very much, since Dolus's friendliness actually worked out in her favor.

   He decided to teach her a few of the tricks that he learned from his time in the gang. Things like how to snag something off a market stall unnoticed, how to pick a lock or pocket, how to lie, how to cry on demand, and how to throw a punch.

   Cal tried not to make use of that last skill. The last thing she needed was for her to accidentally touch someone mid-fight.

   Over the years, Dolus managed to get the rest of the gang to accept her into their ranks. Cal didn't know why Dolus decided to help her. She didn't question it nearly as much as she probably should've, especially once it eventually became clear that his role was the con man.

   For once in her life, Cal almost went a full decade without anything terrible happening to her. Sure, she went through her fair share of stab wounds, arrests, and other close calls. But her new gang had her back, she had consistent access to food, shelter, and money, and... well, she had Dolus.

   Cal was old enough to understand the concept of flirting these days. She was clearly able to tell that Dolus was flirting with her during their downtime. What she wasn't able to tell was if he was being genuine. After all, flirting was a common tactic he used in his acts.

   But she wasn't able to dwell on that for very long. Not after she just got their leader killed.

   It was just a simple break-in. Simple enough that only Cal, Dolus, and Leontyne were needed. But then it all went wrong; the lock was a bit more stubborn than anticipated and the guard was ahead of schedule. And then when they fled, Cal just happened to slip while scaling a roof.

   And Leontyne tried to save her by grabbing her hand.

   Cal never told the gang about her curse. She didn't want to risk being kicked out for it. And at some point during the chase, one of her gloves apparently had acquired a tear.

   Leontyne, now affected by the curse, tried to pull Cal onto the roof just so she could literally skin her alive.

   Fortunately, Dolus was there. And clearly much better at climbing.

   He managed to shove the leader off of the roof and drag Cal away from the edge. They both watched in stunned silence as the guard discovered a mad and injured thief in the alleyway.

   As their leader was dragged away, Dolus pulled a knife out on Cal, ordering her to explain. And once he received her explanation, he then immediately turned to blackmail.

   Apparently, he wasn't as loyal to their leader as he made himself look. As far as he was concerned, this was nothing but a great opportunity. All he needed was for Cal to vouch for him when once they reunited with the rest of the gang.

   And, with the threat of them learning of how she got Leontyne arrested—and later executed due to her madness—and about her curse, vouch she did.

   As far as the rest of the gang knew, their previous leader had tried to turn in Cal and Dolus for her freedom, and she was killed for her betrayal.

   And it turns out that Dolus was much more respected than the others let on, because now he was their leader.

   Life was... oddly normal after that. Except now, Dolus's flirtations was accompanied by little teases about their little secret.

   But his flirtings and teasings just became more and more frequent for the next two years. And then, he decided to blackmail Cal again, this time into being his.

   And now, Cal's mostly happy life began to crumble. She already liked Dolus before they were "official," but she didn't like being in this situation unwillingly. She couldn't help but be fond of his affectionate act, which he put on both in public and private, but she was painfully aware of his true motives beneath the facade.

   Anytime she tried to indulge in a hobby that didn't interest (read: revolve around) him, he would put down both her and the activity itself. He wouldn't even tolerate the woodcarving hobby that she only took an interest in all those years ago because of him.

   And of course, there was the sex. Never once did he try to force himself on her, but he would sometimes make a few comments about spilling the secret if she continued to say no...

   It was around this time that she almost began to miss her life from before. Even if Greer pretty much refused to talk to her unless necessary, at least he wasn't actively hurting her. And what about her mother and father? She had no memory of them, but parents are supposed to be loving, aren't they?

   It was about a year into this relationship when Cal met another thief and eventual friend: Canagan.

   It was a break-in. It wasn't a formal job, Cal just wanted some extra spending money, so she went on her own. Canagan just happened to have picked the same house. She was rooting through the owner's jewelry box upstairs while he was putting as much food from the downstairs kitchen as he could possibly fit into one knapsack.

   They both met in the stairwell.

   Cal wasn't quite sure what to do in this situation. Usually, she'd just stab first and question later. But this wasn't just another guy, it was a kid. She'd never been in a situation where she had to hurt a child!

   The younger thief looked just as confused as she did.

   And then the homeowner returned.

   The thieves just looked at the man for a moment, and then they took off upstairs and out a window.

   It took a few blocks of running for them to stop and question why they were running the same way and what they should do about each other essentially stealing the other's mark.

   After a few moments of arguing, they agreed to a compromise: Cal would trade what appeared to be the cheapest piece of jewelry for whatever piece of food seemed to be closest to going rotten.

   And then they parted ways and never crossed paths again... until a week later.

   Dolus decided that the gang needed a new diversion now that Cal was unofficially promoted. And since he didn't want to give the job to someone that young, despite the fact that he joined up at the age of eight, he decided to hand the job over to an older kid.

   That kid just so happened to be Canagan.

   He and Cal pretended not to know each other. Dolus noticed something was up, but said nothing.

   After the initial awkwardness, Cal and Canagan ended up becoming quite close. As friends and nothing more, despite what someone else in the gang tried to imply.

   (Cal was firm in the fact that she and Canagan would be no more than friends. Aside from the fact that the kid was, well, a kid, Cal had eavesdropped on enough people to know just how messy affairs were. And that's just talking about the ones where blackmail wasn't involved. And there was no way in the Shroud that Canagan would even be interested in a woman to begin with, but that's not relevant.)

   After two years of Dolus putting up the friendly act once again for their newest recruit, the gang decided to take him to a bar for his eighteenth birthday so he could have his first drink.

   Cal hated the idea of her new and only real friend turning into a drunk, but she was unable to cite any logical reason for them not to go through with this.

   And Canagan, it turns out, was nothing but a lightweight. Two shots in and he was almost completely conked out.

   Cal stayed with him to make sure nobody tried anything while he fought off the drowsiness. And he apparently had some things to confess while he was too out of it to pay attention to his words. It was mostly just a jumble of words that probably made more sense to him than anyone listening, but Cal managed to catch two coherent thoughts: 

   One of those being that he had a younger sister who was murdered years ago, and that he thought she would've been a lot like Cal if she had been given a chance at growing up. The second thought being that he could see that Cal was unhappy with Dolus, and didn't understand why she'd stay with him.

   Cal had no clue how to react to how sad and concerned Canagan looked and sounded when those two thoughts came out. Despite all she learned from the gang, had no idea how to make herself comforting. So, instead she just changed the topic.

   Cal's mind lingered on this for weeks. It had been so long since someone genuinely cared for her, after all, especially since she couldn't even remember when that was...

   The next few months went by as usual: some successful heists, some failed heists, Dolus being nice to the rest of the gang to their faces and shit talking them when alone with Cal, Dolus playing nice with Cal, Dolus coercing Cal, the usual routine...

   ...Until Canagan decided to meddle.

   For the past few months, Canagan had formed a hobby of eavesdropping on Cal and Dolus's conversations. And one of those... "conversations" happened to be another incident of Cal being more resistant than usual while Dolus was equally persistent.

   Canagan heard enough to figure out that Cal was being blackmailed, but he didn't know what that blackmail was. He didn't care, either.

   All he wanted was for Cal to get out of that situation.

   And he directly told her this the moment he thought nobody else would be able to hear.

   At first, Cal refused his help. Part of her was afraid that he would betray her, too; that he just wanted her in his debt or that Dolus was using him as a trap. Part of her was afraid that Dolus would do something to hurt one or both of them if he found out. Part of her was afraid of her life being uprooted all over again.

   Five years is what it took for Canagan to successfully convince Cal to trust him; to get her to agree to his plan on getting her out.

   During those five years, Canagan had started pocketing extra funds from jobs and heists. He also listened into more of the talks Dolus had with Cal, gleaning for information and how often he would coerce Cal into sleeping with him.

   And of course, five years of picking up details for the perfect heist.

   Canagan managed to find out about a curious little artifact from one of the noble houses: a strange ring found on the outskirts of Old Lovent. Whoever wore the little thing allegedly gained the ability to communicate with crows.

   And knowledge this supposedly magic ring managed to, not just make it out of New Lovent, but reach the ears of the Senobium all the way over in Eridia.

   And the Senobium was willing to pay generously for ownership of the ring.

   Canagan presented the details to Dolus, and then the plans for the heist began.

   It took a whole year of smaller heists, mark scouting, and scheduling just to be able to go through with the big heist. And, if the information was correct, then Cal and Canagan's cut (plus Canagan's extra shillings) would be more than enough for the two of them to get out of the city and far away from Dolus.

   Far enough for them both to start a new life, one where their livelihoods didn't have to depend on stealing from and occasionally murdering others.

   Or at least, that's how it would be for Canagan.

   While Cal did give Canagan some insight on what Dolus had over her, she only told him a few vague details of how she got the gang's previous leader killed. She didn't tell him of her curse. Her plan was to wait until they were both out of the city and they both had the coin split between them before she told him about it, just in case.

   But neither of their plans ever had any real chance of coming to fruition.

   All seemed to have gone well. The heist was a success, and Canagan's information about how much money was given for the ring was correct.

   But, unfortunately, Dolus was aware of Canagan and Cal's true plans from the past six years. He simply just played ignorant to it.

   But just before the heist, he intentionally arranged for Cal and Canagan to be separated from the rest gang, just long enough for him to spin a tale:

   He told the rest of the gang that it was Cal who killed their previous leader all those years ago. That she had seduced him into defending her, and allowed him to lead as a consolation prize. That, for all the years they had been together, it was just her manipulating him into loving her. That she had betrayed him by getting together with Canagan, and now both of them were planning to get rid of the whole gang and take the prize money for themselves.

   He didn't even need to weave a tale about her curse to get the gang riled up.

   Dolus ordered them to pretend that they knew nothing. He wanted Cal and Canagan to think they had actually gotten away with their plan.

   And believe it the pair did.

   Perhaps, if they had been on their guard, the odds would've been in their favor.

   The gang did teach Canagan how to fight, although he never managed to do well at it. He was cornered and disarmed in no time.

   Cal had spent over half of her life with the gang, and she practically had their attack pattern memorized by heart. She was able to escape them, but they did manage to get a good hit on her.

   She didn't know that Canagan was still with the rest of them. She thought he escaped with her and chose to split up. It would've been the logical choice, after all.

   Instead, after hours of hiding out and attempting to treat her own wounds, she was forced to find that his body was strung up just off the Jailer's Wall.

   If only she knew...

   Something in Cal seemed to have frozen at the sight. It felt like her mind knew that if she were to feel anything, then it would kill her.

   So, Cal shoved whatever grief she should've felt off to the side, and got to work.

   She knew that if Dolus knew of the plan, he likely knew of where the extra money was hidden. Chances were, he was probably waiting for her there.

   So instead, she took to robbery.

   For the rest of the day, she quickly broke into any house that seemed even somewhat expensive, swept the place for any coin or jewelry that could easily be used for bribes or foods that wouldn't spoil immediately; all of which she stored in a knapsack she had stolen from the first house she broke into.

   Her next step was to get out of the city.

   After a few more days of break-ins and laying low, she managed to bribe a traveling circus troupe to give her a ride out to their next performance location using some of the stolen jewelry.

   From there, she bribed caravan after caravan and traveled town to town, searching for the one that would get her to what was supposed to be her and Canagan's first stop: Eridia.

   Surely the city which housed the Senobium, who prided itself on being the source of everything there is to know, would have some kind of idea on how to cure her curse.

   Throughout the months of traveling, the grief and guilt she felt over Canagan's death had only grown and festered. But it wasn't just grief for him, though.

   It was grief that she had shoved aside while with Dolus. It was grief from when she was a child and didn't know why Greer seemed to have stopped loving her. It was grief from the fact that she has no idea of what her parents were like or who they were. It was an older grief she couldn't put a source to.

   It all made her feel as if something in her was rotting away.

   She felt that if she were lucky it would be her heart.

   It seemed that only two fates lied in store for those whom she loved: death or betrayal.

   She loved her parents, as far as she's aware, and they're dead. She loved Greer, and he practically abandoned her. She loved Dolus, and he used it against her. She loved Canagan, and now he's dead.

   He's dead because she left him there to die. He used her because she was naive. He abandoned her because there was something wrong with her. They're probably dead because of her too.

   So logically, if she were incapable of love, then she wouldn't have to lose anyone.

   If she were incapable of love, then nobody would be able to hurt her. Not in a way that mattered, at least.

   It was a foolish choice to fall in love. She swore to herself that it would not be one she'd ever make again.

   "The heart is a fool, always follow your head." It sounded crude, but it was her new philosophy upon finally managing to bribe a caravan to take her to Eridia.

   It was imperative that she stuck to it. Why? Because somehow she knows that if she were to have her heart broken again, if she were to feel any more grief from a love lost, then it would be her breaking point.

   And she did not come this far just to die from a broken heart, of all things...

[w2soneshots]

im sry if you keep writing stuff about jj but you're literally the only one who is writing for him rn 😭😭

so yeahhh ignore this if you want but can you please write where the reader is a youtuber and is doing a series where she pranks jj (or they prank each other like prank-war type thing idk). so the reader decides on a cheating prank with third person (i dont really mind who, could be in sidemen or troops). the reader and the person pretend to do IT on their bed before jj walks and he sees them then he gets all sad and mad and u can decide what happens after that im not rly sure lmao. preferably happy ending, tyyy love ur fics 💕💕

Prank -KSI

words: 0.6k+

warnings: angst, fake cheating, argument, self doubt.

summary: you perform a prank on JJ with Calfreezy and it goes terribly wrong.

notes: thank you for requesting!! I literally wrote this within an hour of your request because I love the idea so much (I’m only posting it now because I already posted something yesterday). Anyway hope you enjoy🫶🏼🤍

I've known JJ since we were teenagers. We started off as friends, moved to London together, I lived in the sidemen house for a little while and during that time we began dating. He asked me to be his girlfriend and we've been together ever since. I've been doing YouTube for as long as I can remember, that's how me and JJ became friends since not many people did YouTube at that time. I'm also great friends with the rest of the sidemen, Callux and Freezy.

Recently I've been doing a series on my channel where I prank JJ and he started doing it back. It started with little ones like: drawing a beard on him while he slept (because he can't grow one), then he bought a confetti bomb and scared the shit out of me with it. It continued on like that for a few weeks, me and JJ thought it was absolutely hilarious. Recently my comments have been full of people asking me to do a "cheating prank" so I decided to deliver.

I asked Freezy to do it with me since we've always got along well, he thought it would be funny so said yes. I asked him to come round to our apartment just before JJ was due to return home from a sidemen shoot. To make it look "real" but not actually touch each other we decided when we heard JJ open the front door Cal would make it look like he was quickly putting his clothes back on. I set up the camera so it was hidden but faced the bedroom door so it would catch JJ's reaction. Then me and Cal explained what was going to happen for the viewers.

When we heard the door click I jumped under the covers so my head was just peaking out and Cal rushed to take his top off. "y/n?!" JJ shouted through the apartment. I didn't respond. "y/n?" JJ opened the door just as Cal pulled his shirt back over his head. His face went blank as his eyes flickered from me and then back to Cal. "What the fuck are you doing!" He said stepping forward and harshly pushing Cals shoulder so he stumbled back slightly. I actually wasn't expecting him to believe it. I leaped up from the bed. "Woah, JJ it's a prank!" I stammered. His brows furrowed angrily. "Stop lying, I caught you!" He shouted. "No seriously mate, it's a prank." Cal stated. "Look." I lept around the bed to grab the hidden camera and held it up for him to see. His face calmed.

JJ shot a quick apology at Cal then he left, leaving me and JJ alone. We sat on the bed. I gently cupped his face in my hands. "Do you seriously believe I'd ever cheat on you?" I asked calmly. His eyes dropped to his lap but I brought his head higher so he looked me in the eyes. "I just- you're so amazing and I-" he started. I nodded my head telling him to go on. "I still can't believe someone like you would want to be with someone like me." My heart sank. "I love you so much. I've never loved anyone as much as I love you, and I never will." I said quietly. He pulled me into a hug and held me tight. "I'm sorry for reacting like that." He said into the crook of my neck. "No, I shouldn't have done the prank. I didn't think about the fact you might believe it, that was stupid of me." He pulled away "I love you." I smiled "I love you too."

[stardustandash]

Nerf and Noodle Soup

Whumptober Day 2: Trust Issues – Role Reversal

The galley is half torn apart at this point in their flight, and Greez can’t help but wish he had slightly more blood left in his body, because what’s happening to his beautifully arranged kitchen is worth getting his blood pressure up over. Instead, he remains slumped at the galley table, watching the destruction of his favourite place in the galaxy.

Ao3 Link

“You know, you could always go wait in the lounge. Or your room. Somewhere you can’t sit and watch and fret,” says Cal as he rummages through the galley cupboards instead of listening to Greez’ helpful instructions.

The galley is half torn apart at this point in their flight, and Greez can’t help but wish he had slightly more blood left in his body, because what’s happening to his beautifully arranged kitchen is worth getting his blood pressure up over. Instead, he remains slumped at the galley table, watching the destruction of his favourite place in the galaxy.

“And leave you alone in the kitchen? No thanks.”

“Would you rather it be Cere in here?” asks Cal with a pointed look towards a large scorch mark and dent above the cooker.

Greez sighs. Out of all of them, it is best that Cal takes on cooking duties for now. Merrin is likely to feed them something like a nautalan’s liver. Or the wings from one of those very large people-eating dathomirian bats. Cere would set the ship on fire. Again. And don’t even get him started about the droid. BD-1 is never touching anything Greez puts in his mouth. Cal at least somehow kept himself alive during those years on Bracca, but Greez is starting to have an appreciation for just how far portions and other packaged meals will go. Both in terms of how much nutrition they actually provide and how ego-boosting they are for the kitchen.

“You’ll do. But for the last time, the Alderaan spices are on the bottom left, and the Lateron are in the middle upper part of the drawer. You can’t just mix the two when making nerf and noodle soup,” says Greez. “They’re completely different palates.”

Cal sighs and puts the offending spice away. It doesn’t escape Greez that he puts it back in completely the wrong spot since the kid’s trying to check on him without drawing attention to it. He wishes Cal wouldn’t. He’s got enough to worry about with the food and the Jedi stuff without worrying about Greez. He’s had holes in his side before and he would again, especially if he kept hanging around with this crew or went back to gambling.

At least nerf and noodle soup is basic enough that even the kid can make it. Hopefully without poisoning anyone or putting a hole through the ship. Cal is, at least, paying attention to the recipe written out in Greez’ old battered flimsi cookbook, though whenever he touches the pages he does that weird blank-faced thing Cere described as ‘seeing the past’. At least he isn’t on the floor screaming from anything. But with the luck they’ve been having lately there’s still time for that.

Greez slumps a little further into his seat. The lounge would be comfier, Cal does have a point there, but he just can’t wrap his head around getting up. Or wrap his head around much of anything. He’s pretty sure Cal is putting in the right vegetables, but it’s hard to tell when he keeps turning into a blue blur with a bright red topper. It’s his job to make sure that the people on this ship get fed, and even if he’s gotta supervise a blob he’s sure as Bantha shit going to do it.

Which is why Greez doesn’t say anything as the world gets slightly fuzzy around the edges. Or when breathing starts to feel like it’s pulling at the edges of his wound. Maybe he should say something. He’s probably due for another round of fresh bacta patches and painkillers, and he needs to make sure Cere isn’t piloting them off course.

“Don’t forget to brown the nerf first,” is what he says. Or tries to say. The whole thing comes out in a tangle of sounds he’s pretty sure are still decipherable.

The next thing Greez is aware of is being cradled in someone’s arms. He’s also a lot more horizontal than he was a second ago. The blurry red shape above him eventually resolves itself into Cal’s worried face and he tries to push himself away from the kid. He’s fine, there’s no need for anyone to fuss over him. He’s the one who does the fussing around here.

“Woah, Greez. Stay still for a minute, you just passed out,” says Cal.

The arms around Greez tighten and keep him locked in place. Rolling his eyes, Greez lets Cal ease him down to the cold tile of the galley floor. The chill is rather refreshing, even if it’s giving Greez a view of just how many crumbs are scattered across the tile. He needs to do a deep clean soon.

“I’m fine, kid. Just got a little lightheaded. Not quite as dramatic as some of the things you’ve pulled, which, let me tell you, have been far worse.”

Greez’ words fall on deaf ears as Cal ignores him in favour of pulling up his shirt and checking the wound in his side. His fingers are gentle where they peel back the bacta patch and probe around the outskirts of the hole grazing Greez’ side.

“You sure you don’t want to go to a med centre or something? This is really nasty and the bacta’s only going so far,” says Cal.

Greez hasn’t seen the wound himself, except for right after it appeared in his side thanks to a Haxion Brood knife, but he knows it’s not nearly bad enough for a med centre. That’s only for things where he’s about to die unless he’s thrown in a tank. This? He’ll be back to flying and bustling about the kitchen in no time.

“I’m good. I’m good. This won’t keep me down for long, especially with the way you’ve been cooking.”

Cal frowns at him, whether offended by the commentary on his cooking or disbelieving his statement about the med centre was hard to tell. Then Greez feels an odd tingling sensation over the wound and realizes it’s not either of those options. It’s a frown of concentration and Cal is using some kind of freaky Jedi magic on him. Or trying to.

“Whatever you’re doing, you better stop,” says Greez with as much warning as he can muster.

The guilty look is enough to confirm that Cal was doing some Jedi nonsense. “At least let me put a fresh bacta patch on and put you on the couch.”

Greez grumbles, but the potolli-weave is far more comfortable than the galley floor or the stools around the table. Reluctantly he lets Cal pick him up off the floor and help him down the steps to land on the couch. Neither of them comment on how long it takes or how exhausted Greez is once they get there. Cal wordlessly applies a bacta patch to Greez’ side and escapes back into the galley. Greez sinks into the couch and listens to the sounds of soup being made, hating everything about the situation. He hates to be useless like this, when he can’t even do his job on the ship of keeping everyone fed.

Though he will admit, Cal makes a pretty good nerf and noodle soup.

[alaskashigh]

so im trying to find a new artstyle and somehow i drew this, so, that’s cool. i gave up on it, obviously. (why? couldn’t tell ya even if i tried since i don’t know myself.) i need to learn rendering n shit, but it’s difficult and i’m lazy rn. also i don’t know how i managed to make a side profile when side profiles are things i’ve always struggled with- (how did he end up looking so good??) i swear everytime i draw at night it ends up looking amazing. i didn’t give Cal his usual beanie and glasses (although i do have a version of him with his glasses, i didn’t like it.) because i wanted to really focus on his face and hair (hair is fun to draw + i need to work on a lot of facial features more, and his ear because ears can be difficult to shape right for me.) i just noticed his skin looks not tan (karma for dimming my phone brightness whilst drawing this), but i don’t want to go back and fix it, sighhh. i’ll work on getting a set color pallet for him in my next drawing

[atlas-the-bastard]

I don't usually post non fandom art on here but I'm pretty proud of this :33

these r two characters my best friend and I made for a VERY COOL webcomic we're in the process of creating - mavis (redhead) and her currently unnamed girlfriend because we needed side characters and I felt like she deserved a sapphic relationship 😌

i did use a reference for the pose/clothes but it turned out way better than I was expecting??? kind of insane??

anyway if you want more deets about the characters uhh under the cut bc I want to tell people about this so bad😭

SO (and may I just say thankyou for clicking see more cant believe people want to KNOW about my SILLY LITTLE GUYS)

Mavis (full name mavis nic coitir) is the bassist of a 5 person band in a world pretty much the same as our own except there's monsters n magic n people have powers n shit. dont think about it too hard the world building isn't designed for scrutiny.

Mavis' "power"/ability is mostly that she's just freakishly smart. she's the tech junkie of the group, the gadget girl, all that jazz - and also the biggest pop culture nerd ever. she's also the mom friend, she had adhd, she's 20 years old, Irish, and born on the 10th of february. she's a total loser and also the coolest person you'll ever meet.

she has a shit ton of awesome body mods/cyborgy stuff (which I didn't draw because I didnt feel like it💀), including a prosthetic arm - all of which she made herself.

she (like all of our other characters) is an amalgamation of a bunch of different traits and tropes we thought would be funny or cool, and also because I cant keep my sticky fingers out of anything, is losely inspired by one piece characters (namely franky and nami) - again, like most of our other characters💀

i, being a faggot, needed to give her a girlfriend and my friend said "sure :D". I thought it would be funny if she, being the loser ever, somehow pulled like. a beautiful celebrity or actress. and I think the idea in my head has now kind of morphed into like...a really cool artist/content creator who lives in their city and who everyone knows...so like microcelebrity...but still a celebrity to mavis's band mates. I havent yet run this past my friend, but I'm thinking some flavour of blasian for the gf.

also these aren't their actual outfits I just drew the clothes that were on the reference cos it was easier and also I think I am a lot better at drawing clothing folds now so win win. for the record mavis normally wears like an oversized band/pop culture tshirt and some old cargo pants/overalls.

anyway yeah that's mavis :DDD

(If u wanna know the other 4 band members are Soren Fayez , the seemingly cool calm collected popular girl who is actually a total ditz, and plays violin; Dante (full name Durante Alaric Hunter Dio Galloridge), the vampire vocalist and sometimes keyboardist with big dick energy and chaotic bisexuality; Calvin Smith, drummer and the most normal guy ever - completely trauma and angst free and the himbo ever; and Evan(geline) Mori, guitarist and the black cat to cal's golden retriever, bursting with childhood trauma and a Midwestern emo musical influence. Evan and Cal are in love with each other but Evan is too angsty to do anything and Cal doesn't waste time doing things like using his single braincell to pick up on Evan's faggotry that to anyone else except the two of them is more unsubtle than a giraffe in a swimming pool.)

[daydreamgoddess14]

Life After Richmond pt. 1

MASTERLIST

A Jason Sudeikis multi-chapter RPF w/ a reader insert/OFC. No use of y/n l/n.

A meeting with an author leads to the next project after Ted Lasso.

~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1

"You should read this, it's fucking life changing." Brett dropped the book into Jason's lap on his way to the writers room. Pre-production for season 3 was well underway and they were making the most of some time writing together. Jason picked up the book and thumbed through it, the front inside cover had been signed by the author: 

'You're a twat. Love Callie' 

"I hope you’re good friends. She's not wrong though, why's it so good?" he questioned.

"It's just... bloody brilliant. Honestly, give it a go. She's going to be writing the new wave of romcoms before we know it. I might try and get her to give some TV writing a go once we’ve finished here."

"Sure, sure, I have all the time in the world to sit and read, Goldstein." Jason rolled his eyes and stuffed the book into his backpack before following Brett into the room. Reading was definitely the kind of recreational activity he didn't have time for at the moment. With shooting planned for right around the corner, downtime was hard to come by. It didn’t take long for the writing to draw him in though and a month or two later, Brett saw the book being launched at his head in the makeup trailer.

"Great book, thanks man. I think I've sent a copy to everyone I know." Jason chuckled. 

"I can get you a copy of your own if you're interested. Signed. Callie texted me, she'll be in London in a few weeks. She’s coming over to visit her mum and sister - want me to set up a meeting?"

"Absolutely yes, if she's OK with that? Get it in my diary, I’ll tell Lisa. We can move stuff around to fit it in so work around whenever works for her." Brett nodded, pulling out his phone. 

"She's having a bit of a shitty time, she's just split with her dickhead boyfriend. They were together for about 5 years I think. He's an absolute weapon, she's well shot of him."

"That sucks. She's from the UK? Maybe being at home will help."

“Doubt it, she left when she was like, 17 to get away from her mum.” Brett said with a laugh. “She’s probably coming to see Beth really but if her mum finds out she’s in the country and doesn’t visit, she’ll go mad.”

“How’d you meet?”

“I’ll let her tell you - she loves to tell that one. Mostly cos it makes me look like a loser.”

“Poor baby Brett.”

“Oh fuck off. I tell you what I’m dreading having you two in the same room. I’m gonna be the punching bag.”

“We love you really, bud. I bet she only calls her true best friends a twat.”

“That’s true actually, she does.”

Callie brought her knees up and rested her mug in the V between her torso and legs, reaching around to type. Her sister had offered her spare room and empty-during-the-day restaurant as a quiet workspace. She’d had more than enough of her mum and so far was loving being back in London and with her sister. She felt like hell after the break up and hadn’t been looking after herself at all. It had caused tension with her mum who’d accused Callie of moping around and had told her to sort herself out. With Beth’s help, she was finally starting to do just that. She had half an eye on the front windows of the large dining space looking out for Brett, when a little tap on the front door shifted her gaze. With a big smile, she rose to unlock the door. 

"Alright, gorgeous? God it’s been a long time." She reached up to hug him. 

"Not bad, how have you been? Stupid question - you look like shit - you've lost weight." He chided, pulling at the baggy hoodie.

"Mate, I'll have you know that this is a vast improvement. My hair is clean, I've bathed, I'm actually wearing clothes - and they're clean ones. I haven't had a glass of wine in... three days, and I considered eating breakfast this morning. That’s enough dragging me in front of your boss though, where's the introduction?" Brett sighed heavily. 

"Fine, Cal, this is Jason. Jason, this is Callie Draper. She didn't always look a mess.” He said pointedly.

"This mess is lightyears from a few weeks ago." Callie gestured to her yoga leggings and oversized hoodie. “I’m practically glowing.” The dark circles under her eyes and drawn complexion clearly said otherwise.

"She's right. You should have seen what I picked up from Birmingham airport. It doesn’t look like it should be, but it’s an upgrade." A voice drifted through the swinging kitchen doors. 

"Well, isn't this lovely and supportive. Thanks, sis." Callie called through the door. She turned to Jason and explained, "I got home from the North American leg of my book tour to find my boyfriend fucking our upstairs neighbour on my kitchen counter. I spent a few weeks surviving on wine and chocolate biscuits so I'm now in recovery mode, my skin hasn't forgiven me yet - being dumped in your 30s is a lot harder than it is in your 20s." She said briefly. 

"I'm so sorry, that's fucking awful. If it’s any consolation, it’s fucking horrible in your 40s." Jason offered kindly. Callie smiled and shrugged, the smile not quite reaching her eyes. 

"Jeez, I think I’ll stay single then. Thanks. Shall we sit?" she gestured to her table. "I'll make some coffee - as long as Americano is OK? I can't do a Latte on that thing." She pointed at the barista coffee machine and set about making the three drinks. 

"Sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just worried." Brett dropped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. 

"I'm OK. Getting there." She leaned into him before she started to fiddle with the coffee press, twisting it into place. 

"When are you going back to Chicago?"

"End of next week. I'm staying at Sara's at the moment, but I'm thinking of moving anyway."

“Where’s next on the list?” Brett asked curiously.

“Probably New York. I think Brookyn, my agent Laura lives just across the river and her office is in lower Manhattan so it seems like a pretty good spot.”

“Brooklyn is great, I’ve got a place there.”

“Excellent, you can give me take out recs.”

"Happy to. So how'd you two meet?" Jason asked, gesturing between Brett and Callie.

"I was at one of his gigs in San Francisco when he performed to 4 people and a dog. I was the only person who couldn't actually leave cos I was the barmaid. He was terrible!" Jason laughed and nudged Brett's shoulder, thanking Callie for the coffee she placed in front of him. 

"I couldn't understand why I was being heckled by a Brummie!" Brett shook his head. 

"Former Brummie. I'd been in the States for about 15 years by then." Callie countered, sitting back in her original seat. 

"When did you move?" Jason looked across at Callie, trying to connect the timeline.

"I was 17. I didn't want to go to uni, my mum was doing my head in, so I decided to do Camp America for a summer. I fell in love, wanted to stay so we got married when I was 18," Callie paused for effect, Jason's eyebrows somewhere near his hairline and Brett nearly doubled over laughing. "Then I was divorced at 22, and I've spent the last 15 years moving wherever I've wanted and doing any old jobs I can while I write. I just up and move when I’ve had enough. I’ve been in Chicago for the last 6 years though so it’s time for a change"

"Holy shit, maybe you should write that."

"Maybe I should." She laughed. It had been a while since she'd had to give her potted history, and it still made her laugh. 

"What happened with your ex husband? Tell him, Cal." Brett had tears in his eyes waiting for the final kicker in the story.. 

"He's happily remarried, we're still friends and I'm godmother to his and Andrew’s two little girls." She finished with a smirk.

"Are you serious? " Jason looked incredulous. 

"Yep, it was a bit of a wild time. My mum still hasn’t forgiven me, she adored him and she was devastated when she found out he was gay."

"You think? She was dreaming of babies on a ranch or some rubbish like that." Brett added with a laugh. "Anyway, enough of your crazy life. Have you got a book on you for Jason? And can you re-sign mine please: you called me a twat." Callie pulled a new book from her bag.

"I did that? Consider yourself honoured. I’m sure I only refer to my best friends as a twat. Got a pen?" she held out her hand, Jason supplied a red pen. "Ooh red, I like to edit in green. It feels less 'grrrr'." She tapped the pen to her lip, thinking, before lifting the cover so he couldn't see, and scribbled her message. Jason took it gratefully and put it straight in his bag without looking. Then she took Brett's dog-eared book and turned to where she'd last signed it. She sniggered at her previous message, and then signed just underneath it before passing the book back. Brett opened it. 

"Callie!" He held it out for Jason to see the new inscription:

'You're still a twat. Still love you though, Callie xo'

"I hope mine is nicer. Either that or I’m already in best friend territory." Jason teased.

"You won't know if you don't read it."

"The book? Oh I read it, I loved it. I sent it to everyone I know." Callie narrowed her eyes at him. 

"When you say everyone you know... do you happen to know Reese Witherspoon?"

"Not personally, but my friend Alexi does. And I sent her a copy, why?"

"My Insta went mental a few weeks ago, Reese Witherspoon, Drew Barrymore... fucking Jennifer Aniston! All tagging me with pictures of the book. It was insane. I’ve had to add more dates to the book tour when I get back, and I’m going on a couple of daytime TV shows as well."

"Jen? Oh that was me, I'm definitely taking credit for that one. And the others by association." Callie's eyes were like saucers. 

"Holy shit." She whispered. "Holy shit. I told Laura something weird had happened, she didn’t believe me. She said it was just word of mouth."

"You're like... Nora Ephron reincarnated. If your books are anything to go by, then I can't wait to read your screenplays. Post-its, shopping lists. You name it, I'll read it." Callie blushed into her coffee.

11am turned quickly to lunchtime, with Callie's sister bringing out food for them all. Callie told them that she'd spent the previous week at her mums binge watching Ted Lasso. Her time living in America had meant that she'd already been familiar with Jason from his SNL days. Conversation came easily between the three of them and lunch soon fell away to mid afternoon, and by 4pm they were being pushed by Callie’s sister into clearing away water glasses, coffee cups and cake plates to make way for the restaurant opening. Brett excused himself to go to the bathroom and Jason turned to Callie,

"You've probably heard this from everyone already, but it does get easier. You'll... find yourself again." She nodded. 

"Thanks. I'll keep trying, it feels good to be out of the pity party so I just need to keep going. I'm struggling to write though," she shrugged, "I can't get in the right headspace, I just keep getting into my own head and seeing, well, what I walked in on. And then it’s all I see. I've tried poetry, lyrics, plays, prose... I just can't get my words out." Her chin dropped to her chest and she brushed across her eyes quickly to get rid of any potential tears. "Sorry, I didn't mean to offload. It all just feels a bit bleak and dark foresty right now."

"I'm glad you did, your words will come back. Give yourself time." Jason offered a hug, and she rose slightly onto her toes to accept. 

"Thank you. Really, thank you." She muttered against the neckline of his hoodie. 

"My turn." Brett interrupted and Callie reluctantly stepped away from Jason. She ruffled Brett's hair and he planted a kiss on her forehead. "When's your flight?"

"Next week, I'm back at mum's at the weekend for my last few days though. Got to go back for one more round of fucks disguised as a pep talk." Brett nodded, 

"She’s only doing it because she loves you. Don't be a stranger, and please look after yourself." She nodded. 

"Will do, it was really good to see you. A patented Goldstein hug makes everything ok. And so good to meet you Jason. Jesus, what a fucking understatement! Good luck with the show."

"Thank you, it was great to meet you too."

"Thanks babe, it wouldn't be half as good without this genius." Brett nudged Jason gently and the two left Callie to lock the door behind them. 

"Jennifer fucking Aniston." She whispered, shaking her head. "As if!"

A few days later, Callie's phone pinged with a Twitter DM. A screenshot. Of a tweet she'd sent from her sister's sofa,

"Meeting actual pop culture geniuses is all well and good until they turn out to be extremely hot and very, very distracting 🥵"

She frowned at the screenshot at first, before seeing the message it came with. 

'Just checking whether you've met any other pop culture geniuses over the last few days?' Callie's jaw dropped. He did not have Twitter. She was almost certain. Almost. "Shit," she whispered furiously, "shit, shit, shit. Bethhhhhh?" she wailed, calling her sister. 

"What's up?" Beth replied, coming in from her room, DVD in hand. 

"I might have tweeted about meeting Jason the other day. Might have called him hot. He's found the tweet." Beth looked blankly, 

"Did you seriously think he didn't have Twitter?"

"There's an account, but it's not active!" 

"Ohh.. Oh Callie, you plum!"

"Shit! I'm so mortified!"

"Ahh so own it, he's seen it now. You might as well just laugh it off. Speaking off, I knew I had one of his films somewhere - fancy watching it?" She held up 'Sleeping with Other People' Callie was too nose deep in her phone to say no. 

"How's this sound - 'Only Brett and I’m not sure he qualifies as a genius.'?"

"Cute, funny. Breezy, go for it. I'm getting popcorn, shall I open some wine?"

"Fuck yes, please do. I might as well continue to drink myself to death at this rate. I'm a walking mess, Beth."

"You're fine. You're getting over dickhead at your own pace, we got you through the heartbreak and booze diet, I know you’re in the forest but we're getting you out." Callie hummed, hitting send on the message and shoving her phone out of sight to watch the film. By the time it ended, the empty wine bottle sat on the coffee table while Callie and Beth lay head to toe on the sofa. 

"So… The film didn't help." Callie pointed out, gently kicking her sister’s head. 

"You're not wrong," Beth sniggered, "He really is hot!"

"Aghh, shut up. I'm in my heartbreak era. I'm allowed to lust over unattainable men. Thank god I’ll never have to meet him again. He is ridiculously gorgeous in person, I couldn’t cope with that again."

"Did he reply to you?"

"Dunno, I'm sitting on my phone. Probably not." Callie dug under the cushions to retrieve it, "Oh shit, he has replied - it just says 'good to know.' Oh, he's sent a link to a song, he said it reminds him of the book." Callie clicked the link and turned up the volume. She looked across at Beth. 

"Didn’t you play this on repeat for about 8 months while you wrote?" Callie nodded slowly. "Bit mad that he's gone for the same song." Callie nodded again, incredulous.

"I'm sending him the full playlist." She decided, getting the link and adding it to the message stream with the caption 'here's my full playlist for the book, crazy coincidence that you went for that track.' He replied with a purple heart, and Callie resisted the urge to keep the conversation going.

Callie landed in Chicago a week later, stopping briefly at her old apartment to get more of her stuff before continuing to her best friend's home. After some calls to her agent, Laura, she had managed to sign a lease on an apartment in New York within the month, and packed up the rest of her belongings. Messages from Jason dropped into her Twitter DMs once or twice a week, recommending the best place in Brooklyn for tacos,  they’d exchanged book recommendations. It felt strange after so long to be living alone. Laura had found her a tiny apartment close enough that they could regularly meet. Since traveling the country together on her book tour, and the break up, she and Laura had become close friends. Callie was grateful to not be starting over totally alone in a new city. She settled down to write, but found again that the words wouldn't come to her, it felt like an age since she’d managed to successfully put pen to paper. Without really thinking, she picked up her phone and sent a message via Twitter: 'What do you listen to when you write?' The response came through almost immediately with a link to Run The Jewels - a duo she'd never heard of. She hit play without replying to the message and emerged 4 hours and 10,000 words later to a new message. Not on Twitter, on WhatsApp, from a number she didn't have saved already. 

'I talked Brett into giving me your number, I hope you don't mind. Hope the music suggestion worked.'

'It did! I finally got something going. Nothing like a looming deadline to hurry me along. I was on a couple of talk shows last week - it was completely bizarre. I don’t know how you do it. Weird as fuck.’

‘You get used to it. Send me the link, I wanna watch.’

Callie dropped the youtube link into their message chain and got back to work. The messages became more and more regular back and forth - discussing new episodes of TV shows they’d recommended to each other, swapping playlists and books. Callie even sent over recipes she’d made, with photographic evidence of how they’d turned out.

Over brunch, Laura put a coffee cup down for Callie and caught sight of a selfie of Jason and Brett on her phone.

“Well this is unexpectedly wonderful Callie Draper. Does Brett know he’s got a new role as matchmaker?”

“Don’t be silly, we’re just friends. We really got along when we met and he’s just really easy to talk to.” Laura hummed, looking at her own phone. She froze reading an email and Callie looked up at the notable silence. She’d expected the Spanish inquisition but it was nowhere to be found. “What’s up babe?”

“Fuuuck. Callie, fucking hell.”

“Laura! What is it? What’s going on?” Laura slid her phone across the table and Callie read the open email;

‘We’d like to invite Ms Draper to the offices to discuss a potential collaboration in getting her book adapted as a series. I’ll send the details across shortly. I'm away in LA for two weeks so we’ll get something booked in early next month. Netflix would love to have something like this in our wheelhouse so I’m really excited to meet you both.’

“Netflix?” Callie whispered in awe, more to the phone than to Laura.

“NETFLIX baby! Netflix!”

“Fucking hell. Fuck me, what do I do?”

“We meet with them, obviously!” Laura took the phone back and frantically drafted a response. Across the table, Callie picked her phone up and wrote a message of her own.

‘Holy fuck, Netflix want to meet me next month to discuss adapting the book. Fuck me, what do I do?!’

‘That’s amazing news - congrats! Meet with them of course, there’s no harm in hearing what they’re thinking of. Meeting with them doesn’t mean you’re committing to them. You’ll crush it.”

‘I know fuck all about TV. Hope you’re ready for a Padewan?’

In London, Jason laughed at his phone before sending a Yoda gif in response. Callie beamed at the reply before concentrating on Laura who was practically combusting. A few days later, a huge bouquet of beautiful sunflowers arrived on her doorstep with a note from Jason and Brett.

Do it you must, young Padawan 💜

She’d cried and sent them both a picture, thanking them.

‘Anytime, anything you need. You’ll do great, I can’t wait to hear all about it.’ Jason had replied.

The Netflix meeting soon rolled around and Callie listened intently. It had sounded great, she knew very little about TV but she’d heard enough to be a little wary of their business model of cancelling both popular and underperforming shows. She wondered if she was ruthless enough for them but found herself hiding those fears from Jason and Brett. She asked Laura to keep Netflix at arms length for a while, playing on her other deadline commitments, while she tried to work the scenarios in her own mind. They were walking through the park when the call from Apple TV reached Laura. She excused herself away from Callie slightly to take the call, before returning with a huge smile.

“Apple wants to meet you now. It happens sometimes, they’ll have heard through the grapevine about the things Netflix are looking into. Sometimes they’re bothered and want to see for themselves, sometimes they leave each other to it. Could be good for you though to hear out another option? They’ve booked us in to meet next month.” Callie was speechless. They parted ways and Laura went back to the office while Callie went home to write. On the way, she sent Jason a message.

‘Now Apple wants to meet me. This is insane. Insane! I’m really wary of Netflix. I’m not sure they’re the right fit. How did you know when you went with Apple?’

‘Amazing news! We were lucky with Apple, we knew right away and they’ve been really supportive. Couldn’t wish for a greater bunch of folks to work with. At least you’ll have something to compare Netflix to.’

Callie smiled, she knew he was right. They’d batted enough ideas back and forth over the last 5 months to know when each other was on the right track. She settled back at her desk and picked a playlist to write to. Time to focus on the day job - not the possibilities of what might happen.

[simpingwriter]

Cal Kestis x Kyra Yarmot

'In the Name of Love' Pt.4 (1/2)

A/N: guess this one got too long oops-

I'm writing this all on Google Docs and unfortunately they got a word limit for Spellcheck. And I got carried away with this chapter, so for the sake of at least some grammatical editing, I had to split this one up to two parts. Maybe even 3ish, depending on how easily I can end the 2nd part of Chapter 4 because a bomb is getting dropped in that part...

I will post the 2nd part either still tonight, if I got enough fuel left, or tomorrow afternoon.

Enjoy (pls and thx :) )

Word Count: approx. 3000

___________________

When you first set foot, or feet, onto the Bardottian Market – well, one of many, to be honest – you felt a totally different atmosphere to the one from yesterday.

Calmer, more civilized…less dirt.

And much less people, or the path was just bigger, letting it appear less packed than the other one.

"Wow, I can't hear a street fight around the next corner of these stalls. The other one…well", in the other one, you wouldn't have just heard the fights happening, chances were high you felt the blood of the one losing splatter onto your face when you choose to be stupid and pass directly by it.

And it was not exactly rare to end up in one yourself either, from totally not personal experience.

You nod in agreement while getting busy with scanning the stalls selling their farms' produce. The meat choices looked like their prices would put a miniature black hole in your wallet. But they also made your mouth water, knowing you couldn't afford them was like plain torture.

"Wait…over there. A Blue Milk Stand." Cal calls out excited – drawing some critiquing looks onto yourselves in turn, all quickly deterred with you snarling at them –, pointing like an overjoyed toddler towards said colorful stand, pulling you after him, giving you not much choice but to stumble after him, him to 100% oblivious to your suddenly heated up face.

The direct hand contact didn't make you blush yesterday…so why now??

"For a minute, I was worried about even finding Blue Milk all the way on Bardotta, since Banthas aren't part of the natural fauna. But I guess they just…shipped…them here??" That would probably be the case…

You weren't really sure either, shrugging once he let go of your now almost clammy hand again, still none the wiser to your very sudden reaction. Why should he, you dragged him through the streets hand in hand yesterday as well and didn't bat an eye at that moment of close contact.

Hell, you almost karking straddled him when you met and didn't react like this on the inside! Probably because of your peaking adrenaline fogging up your thoughts at that time, but who knows.

Holy karking bantha shit, you totally did straddle him...oh makers...

The blush that was on its verge of disappearing again, shot back into your face as your tried to shake the pictures from your head, at least for now.

"Okay, got the milk…can cross that one off at lea-... Kyra, you...okay there?" Instead of waving his hand in front of you – remembering the almost accident today – he simply poked your shoulder, barely getting any resistance back at first. But it did the trick. "Y-yeah? Oh, you already bought the blue milk?" "While you were occupied with daydreaming, yes. Are you really sure you're alright? If you don't feel well, I can finish the list myself, there shouldn't be that many any…ways…oh...oh no..."

He stopped himself as he looked down at the list written on a sheet of paper. You, curious, also took a glance.

It wasn't exactly what you would call small – not in your vocabulary at least –, the list.

Baffled, he clears his throat after a few moments of taking in the small list, "I stand by my words though, if you're not fe-" "I was just preoccupied with my thoughts for a moment, Cal. I'm fine, honestly." You assured him as you slipped the list from his hands to take a better look at it while he carefully put the milk bottles inside the backpack you decided to carry when you went out.

You became more than used to having to carrying heavy gear since you used to carry your entire life of clothes and resources on your back – before Cal found you of course – so this wasn't going to break your back just yet. Dragon People once were supposed to be "working animals", your whole evolutionary line filled with traits to do and carry a lot of work, be it holding out extreme lengths of bloody wars or just farm work.

Sometimes though, you had to question if you have really gotten all these traits. Sure, you could carry a lot of stuff for a long period of time…but you had your limitations on that and they looked awfully human and fragile for your heritage, if you looked at the apparent feats they had accomplished centuries ago...

"Is Cere sure we can find all these things here?" You scan the list over and over, some standing out to be bound to certain planets and their cultures. Mentally, you skipped over those after making sure you wouldn't find them here. It shrunk the list not by a lot though.

"We all wrote stuff on it freely, we never know when and where we get to restock…so I don't think so. We just have to try our luck with most of them."

You now mentally list the things needed on them:

Pack of paper

New Tool harness (Cal)

Chewstim (Cal and Merrin)

1 pack of vacuumized Stimcaf (Cal)

3 packs of vacuumized Coffee

2 packs of Chocolate Cookies (Greez)

Huge amounts of various cooking ingredients (Greez)

Synthmilk (no name)

Gatalentan Tea (Merrin)

Gesha Tea (Cere)

Karlini Tea (Greez)

10 bottles of Water

Pack of Toilet Paper

…

"By the makers, I think we need to go twice, alone because of the water bottles, the backpack isn't even big enough for that…" Cal mutters irritated at the list, shaking his head, some more unkept locks of red falling into his face, "Why didn't they all come with us?" He said quietly to himself, but you caught it just all too well, keeping quiet anyways. If someone whispers, they probably didn't plan for it to be heard. So you play none the wiser…again.

"That's fine with me…but the more important question…who the hell put Synthmilk on there?!?"

Tried it once, puked once. That stuff was the karking worst you had put into your mouth at that point. Sure, later you would have to take that back, finding out what a bowl of Gruel that went bad from standing in the way too humid air of Gelgelar for probably…hours...tasted like. Hadn't gotten out of the refresher for actual hours either.

"Don't know, but I guess we'll just get it? If we even find it. Never had it myself, so you might need to help me with finding it." "It's absolutely not worth the credits…but yeah, let's just buy it. And even if just to find the nasty ass culprit." Walking away from the Blue Milk Stand, Cal laughs at your pure and unfiltered hatred for Synthmilk before taking the list back from your claws, saying it must be oh so very heavy for you. What a jokester.

Jokesters get pushed. The pusher gets pushed back. In the end, you're both dizzy, laughing like idiots as you stumble down the market paths.

You're both just childish, but you could very well look past that for such good company as Cal.

While he had to hide his lightsaber higher up under his Poncho, you were still left without yours, it being another thought doing extra and extra rounds in your head at night. You needed it back. But you didn't even know where that Karker went with it, if he even still had it or if he long sold it. And where the possible seller went or what they did with it.

With your great – absolute bantha shit – luck, it's been taken apart, its pieces and your kyber crystal out on the black market for the highest, most certainly dubious bidder…

"You're missing your lightsaber…" How did he- "You have been staring at mine all morning…I just didn't find the right time to mention it." Oh, yeah…that does make sense.

"Sorry for that… It's just…it was taken from me in a moment of weakness, Cal. Not just that I lost it bothers me…", it kept reminding you of the fact that you lost in that encounter with an enemy. It ate at you, like a damned parasite, you couldn't even keep your lightsaber safe, not even THAT.

How were you supposed to keep those apparent Force Sensitive Children safe if you ever found them? There weren't many adult Jedi left that could teach them the right way…

And just for the sake of…of whatever was left of the old Jedi Order, you should not be one of the people to continue the teachings. You never used to like following these stupid rules too much yourself.

Not to forget, the dead Council would twist in their not-too-nice graves if you would teach them. You were taught partial Dark Side Arts by your late Master, if anything, you would've been a traitor to them if they had ever found out what happened right under their noses.

Squinting at yourself for slowly losing total track of your busy train of thoughts, you sigh out, shaking your head dismissively, "I can't keep hanging myself up on it, I know that myself, you don't need to think that for me…because i know you are.".

You just wished for at least a sliver of a clue to its current location, or even its last…

"I will do anything in my power to help you find it, Kyra..." He promised to you, an almost pained but a certainly strong expression on his freckled face, "Since I'm guessing yours also belonged to someone you once knew." Of course it did, you…you weren't trusted with your own yet at that time, left with a stupid training lightsaber when the attack happened, unable to hurt even a bug with the weak blade the Kathracite in it would create, unlike the actual Kyber Crystals.

Or Bondar Crystals, oh boy. For the, ehem, "shock value" as your master used to joke.

They really weren't fun to get hit with but indeed a shocking experience, to not get sliced to dragon meat dices on immediate impact....

"It belonged to my master…" even more why you needed it back.

Its the last thing you had left of him. The last physical thing. His unusual teachings would never leave your head, his stories of his adventures of crossing the Galaxy before becoming a teacher for Younglings and Padawans like you and his own, very special ways of explaining his points of view always kept close to your heart.

"So just like mine?" The whole time while you went to talk about your lightsabers, you had to remember to tone it down a lot more than usual, your eyes constantly busy making sure nobody in the crowd stood out for being with the Empire. Or even a local was enough right now, this being Bardotta.

During that, you chipped a good portion of the list off, the backpack growing heavier and heavier by each stall you passed. Until Cal unfortunately interrupts your well flowing conversation, seconds after you told an absolutely horrible joke you heard from an old companion of yours, Cal choking at the punchline to a point you had to help him cough his water back up, "Wait- Wait…I think we really should get some of the stuff back to the ship now…" He looked at you and the backpack with an amount of worry you hadn't felt being laid upon you for too long.

It weirdly enough felt really nice, knowing that for once, not everyone thought of you like some unbeatable and inexhaustible creature - even if it was just him. Well okay, with the way he liked to shamelessly admire your nonhuman parts, you couldn't be 100% sure he didn't think you're a creature at least to a certain degree.

"Sure. But no big talky talky breaks with Merrin and the rest, it's going to get dark sooner or later. Bardotta gets cold at night…" you turn on your heels, having kept the way back to the ship somewhat memorized, holding back a laugh as Cal took a moment to realize you actually agreed to his plan instead of arguing, stuck in place, brain buffering like a terrible HoloNet connection, yelling for you to wait for him as he jogs back up to walk next to you. "Well, not that cold though…I'm sure this place looks really nice at night, i mean, look at all the lights around the stalls!"

He was right, there are alot of fairy lights strewn about…

"I don't know…it does sound nice. But, well…" you rub your arm in embarrassment, remembering the undoubtedly incredibly childish teasing back in your not-too-long-ago childhood. Even though you should've grown out of that memory by now. "I get cold real easily…i wouldn't want to ruin this for you with my constant shivering…I'm sure Merrin wouldn't say no to it though! She would be thrilled to see them as well!"

The two of you had nearly left the market as you unexpectedly got stopped by Cal, eyebrows uncharacteristically knitted together as he looked down to you, just a head taller than you, thinking about what to actually say for a minute.

"She definitely would, sure. I definitely could, sure. But I want to get to know you a bit better. Without Greez panicking every two seconds about you devouring him head to toe in his sleep and Merrin interrupting me." He let go of your shoulders, hands falling back down to his sides, something you didn't even register as you were busy staring up into his eyes. The eyes you, without any filter whatsoever, called pretty yesterday before heading to bed.

And you would never take it back. They were pretty, especially in addition to his overall handsome face…wait no!

"Also, please don't worry about feeling cold, if you really got such a bad problem with it. I meant it when I said you could get some of my Ponchos as well, I guarantee you, on BD, there is a warm and cozy one under them!" Immediately BD seemed to almost glare at Cal in disbelief and you didn't know how you discerned that from his usual "expression" but you're sure he was, a small and muted beep that translated to 'Rude' was the only thing he had to say.

As you continued walking, him telling you with passion about all his favorite Ponchos, the one he wanted to show and gift to you specifically, you felt a weird tug at your heart. All the time, you had been so so lonely, the loneliness eating at your live conscious at some nights, you nearly forgot what it was like to have someone actually caring for one and their personal opinions, for their wellbeing even. After a certain event after the purge, you never had spent long enough with people to get to know them, for them to get to know you, neither did it ever matter, all having been short acquaintances solely to get you from Planet A to Planet B. Or C. Or D.

None of them even bothered to ask about you…and with the kind of people you had to travel sometimes, you were very glad about that.

Why was it feeling differently with Cal then?

Because you knew you would stay with them for a while? Because you wanted to stay for a while?

Cal stops at the front of the raised door of the ship, using his comm link to tell Cere that you were back with the first things on the list for now. The door opened quickly, letting both of you back onto the Mantis. After waving a quick 'hey' to Merrin – while also informing her of having found her requested Tea – who was reading a book in the living room, you left the backpack leaning against the couch, hoping at least someone felt inclined to unpack it.

Cal didn't give you lot of time, keeping you to your own words a few minutes ago and already went to usher you back to the quarters in the engine room you shared, teasing you about the fact that you told him to not waste time with talking to the others for too long.

BD, who was until a few minutes ago, surprisingly quiet during the whole trip, hopped off his shoulder to stretch his small legs, a chuckle quick to follow from you, "Since when do Droids need to stretch?"

'Ever since I only get taken to boring missions!' He beeps back irritated before quickly resuming his place back up higher. This time it was your upper back and shoulders as he beeps quickly, 'Quick, take me on an actual adventure, oh pretty pretty Kyra!'

Rummaging through his drawer, Cal scoffs playfully at BD's theatrical request, "You say it like we don't get nearly shot dead on sight on every second planet we decide to set foot on! I would call that pretty adventurous..." He mumbles the last part with fake hurt in his voice.

'Those aren't adventures. Those are eventual death traps…'

From his mention to their danger, your thoughts went to the eventual first real mission for you on the Mantis. Well, would've, weren't it for Cal's thought-puncturing shout, "HA! Found it! This one should be perfect for your little dilemma!"

In his hands he held a nearly white poncho, some grey scale specks over it. The inside looked not just insulated, you were sure you saw some warm fur coating poking out at the folded edges. A cold climate poncho. Clearly not perfect for actual subzero regions…since it was a karking Poncho for crying out loud, but it would be great for cold nights on normal planets.

You wondered where he got it from, your hands naturally going out to grab it from his. A short, yet unexpected brush of his own hands, slightly roughed up and a bit dry from training, sent immediate shivers down your spine and your first "most logical" reaction was to let go of the Poncho in shock, hearing it drop to the ground with a muted thud. For a moment he was about to say something before just smiling at you. "Sorry, thought you had it already, slippery fingers I guess!"

Was the redhead aware of the sudden skin contact and your increasingly stupid behavior today and he just... played it off…or did he really not notice when you pulled your hands off of his like he physically burned you? Which wasn't possible by the way. Dragon People were almost all "fireproof".

You wouldn't make matters worse, nodding at his comment, "Happens sometimes if you got fingers like mine." Wasn't even a total lie, claws were sometimes difficult to do certain things with. And you couldn't even shorten them by a lot, blood vessels starting to run through them at some point. "I think they look…" He stops himself to think, looking at them intently while he crouches down to pick the thick Poncho back up, "I think they look not just cool. They look good on you, they suit you...a dragon without claws would look odd though, wouldn't they?" They definitely would, it was one of your main defense or offense tactics after all.

For your comfort's sake, he seemed to notice that for some reason, he left the conversation subject at that for now, walking back to the main living area with you once more. The backpack was luckily actually empty again, so without much of a break, only to quickly take a sip from the water bottle you took for yourself during breakfast today, like you warned him and he teased you, you once more left the Mantis to go and buy the rest of the list.

And just like you predicted, night came in quickly. Very quickly. Only three hours later, the sun had nearly fully set, only a few of its rays left scattered across the ground as it disappeared behind a distant snowed in mountain.

Now the streets were only illuminated by the Bardottan Moon and street lights. But also by one third important thing, the sole reason you stayed out this long anyways.

Before you even had the chance to start shivering, also like you predicted, Cal took the liberty to take the Poncho from the backpack's strap from its current place on the ground where you put the once again heavy object for a short break. You weren't able to get your question about 'what he was doing exactly' out when he was already carefully placing the poncho over your head, taking note of your wings and horns – trying his absolute hardest to not accidentally brush against the later after your very obvious reaction about them yesterday.

A small sheepish wave when your head popped back out on the other end of the opening woke you from your trance, staring in surprised awe at him, "Hello there, welcome to comfy town." He sang, a bright undoubtedly happy smile on his face, using your moment of needing to mentally hard reboot yourself to reach for the backpack himself this time, a huff leaving his lips.

Back to reality, you're about to protest about him carrying it, when he stops you with his single-gloved hand, telling you it was alright if he carried it now. He was strong as well after all, not like you, but he wouldn't break and fall apart like the plastic brick toys you both apparently got to know after a heated discussion about them this morning. You vaguely remember the name Jego, initial envy playing a big part in those memories. Envy you had to swallow as a Padawan back then. Until you got a set on one of your sparsely celerated birthdays, a gift from the commander of the Clone Troop that served under your Master.

"Come, stop daydreaming for once. I wanna see the lights…we won't get this much time everyday for a while now, so we should enjoy it while it lasts. Or while the rest don't actively collect us to leave again of course." Once again, as if automatic, his bigger hands found yours. It also – once more – sent more shivers down your scaley spine, feeling your wings subtly react to said shiver as well. But you left your hand right in his anyways, the warmth radiating alone from just his hands feeling incredible.

Getting to the nicely decorated stalls was even easier now, the shopping crowd gone now that the actual market was closed for the night. That only left you, other visitors and general off world tourists, all those that weren't already used to the bright lights basically lighting up the night on their own. Fairy lights were a weird thing, so small and yet they managed to bring so much simple joy to a whole mass of people.

All by just doing their job. By doing only as they were supposed to do.

"Look, those even change their color, Cal!" You point out to one in particular, the colors ranging from pink all the way to orange, the most vivid variations of the colors in between being showcased. It transfixed both of you almost immediately as you both had the same baffled expression on your faces, mouths hanging slightly open. "I…I never saw such things on the other planets…not the colorful ones at least."

And especially not at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant…

(To part 2 of chapter 4)

___________________

[t0t411y-n0t-hum4n]

IM JOINING WITHOUT A TAG BC THIS IS AWESOME :333

Ok so imma do Ozark, Moth, Mage, Madpanda, Sacrificial, and Lemonade just to keep it short because there are. So many OCs that I never ever make anything about other than silly drawings on like my pre-cal work and stuff.

☕

Ozark: nah not intolerant, but he just doesn't like the buzz-y feeling, its weird to him and makes him nauseous Moth: dude she loves that stuff but... she's broke all the time because of it Mage: caffeine FIEND, but not before he met Madpanda lol Madpanda: it needs it to remain sane and not go murder on ppl :3 Sacrificial: he has never drank anything w/caffeine for the caffeine (and just like tea at that) it because he is scared of its impact on health Lemonade: she only really likes things like Alani and Celsius and those types of energy drinks. She'll get the occasional coffee also if she feels like it (usually only if she has a book with her because it makes her feel cool)

🧋

Ozark: the cucumber lime gatorade but with chili powder in it Moth: rockstar energy original Mage: white monster Madpanda: anything it can get its paws on, it loves silly little drinks Sacrificial: sweet tea (but like really sweet, think texas tea but double that) Lemonade: Alani slush thingy (the pink one)

🍕

Ozark: takeout, does NOT want to put in the energy for that or have someone else put in that much energy for him Moth: home cooked, and she'll make stuff for Ozark but play it off as though it's just leftovers Mage: takeout, can't cook because of the government required restraint Madpanda: takeout most of the time. it doesn't care enough about its physical vessel Sacrificial: home cooked, and he tries not to eat out that much Lemonade: usually she'll just have whatever Sacrificial gives her lol

🍵

Ozark: yeah because he was lazy and didn't want to make more food so he ate like 3 week old leftovers Moth: no, which is surprising Mage: yeah it's called trusting Madpanda Madpanda: I don't think it can... Sacrificial: no he's really careful about that type of thing Lemonade: yeah because she does not give a single shit about what she eats

🌭

Ozark: no to an extent, it really depends if he cares at the moment Moth: absolutely not Mage: no but he doesn't like a couple of very specific foods and that's it Madpanda: no not at all Sacrificial: YES a whole lot Lemonade: literally no. not at all. never once.

🍙

Ozark: yeah a lot of the time actually. mainly because takeout Moth: yes because she likes to try to make it Mage: eh, not really. he doesn't get out much Madpanda: yeah but it's not shown that it knows so much about other cultures until later on Sacrificial: he tries Lemonade: meh she doesn't go out of her way but if she thinks it seems cool then yeah she'll try it

🥩

Ozark: bread with like 8 different kinds of mold on it Moth: she doesn't eat a whole lot of weird things, so like battery acid maybe Mage: intel core i9-14900k Madpanda: a concerning amount of various flesh Sacrificial: he tried insects once Lemonade: drywall (on accident)

🍻

Ozark: yes. after the horrors Moth: meh no, she'll have a drink now and again Mage: not legally allowed to consume alcohol regardless of age Madpanda: no it makes it feel bad Sacrificial: no he has never had alcohol and doesn't want it Lemonade: lowkey yeah? she'll try to get sober now and again but always slips back into it

🥪

Ozark: pb&j Moth: ants on a log Mage: spam taco Madpanda: souls of the damned Sacrificial: mac n cheese Lemonade: tube popsicles

👩🏽‍🍳

Ozark: godawful at cooking Moth: decent, room for improvement but she enjoys cooking a lot Mage: not applicable Madpanda: either the food comes out really good or really bad no in between Sacrificial: good cook because he has practice Lemonade: she once nearly burned down the apartment boiling a pot of water

🍫

Ozark: reese's pieces Moth: snickers Mage: candy corn Madpanda: candied jalapenos (i know theres an accent but i forgor the keyboard shortcut) Sacrifical: shredded coconut candy bar Lemonade: strawberry shortcake

🥜

Ozark: no Moth: mildly allergic to pineapple (its just spicy to her) Mage: nope Madpanda: again, i dont think it can be Sacrificial: yeah just cactus (like nopalitos, yk?) Lemonade: nah

OC Ask Game!!!!

(𝙵𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝙴𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗)

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚜𝚑 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚎.

☕- 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭? 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐞?

🧋 -𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤?

🍕 -𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐜 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐭?

🍵- 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐜 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝? (𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡)

🌭- 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐜 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫?

🍙- 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐜 𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 ?

🥩- 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐜 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭𝐞?

🍻- 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐜 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜?

🥪- 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐜’𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐤?

👩🏽‍🍳 - 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐜 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐟 𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤?

🍫- 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐜’𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲?

🥜- 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐜 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬?

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞)

@aquitheimmortalone @aesthetic-writer18 @7-crows-in-a-trench-coat @the-ellia-west @pastellbg @whosbex @ambersky0319 @bonestheghost16 @sassystyl @illarian-rambling @harmonic-melodii @ddgraywrites @sillycyan @thecomfywriter @differentnighttale

[callisthoe06]

Intro (so y'all know who I am lolz)

Hi! You can call me "Cal" (not my real name but I find it cute so why not? lol), I'm a 19y/o bisexual (I love men EVEN MORE though) writer and a bit of an artist from the Philippines (it's hot as hell here) I'm mostly an NSFW writer and artist (Twitter, Instagram, and Ao3 are the same as my Tumblr username but pls no harassment if my works offend your moral minds) I'm pretty friendly, especially if we're into the same fandom and as long as you don't write and draw shit of my favorite characters getting hurt, we'll get along fine as long as you can deal with my unhingedness (also me very horny) I'm pretty short IRL and I'm a pretty optimistic person (even though I'm trying to burn the last remaining bits of my optimism cuz of how traumatized I am right now). Just casually trying to hang on to that little sliver of hope and happiness inside me before I let my intrusive thoughts take over again. Fandoms I love: 1.) Tales of Arcadia 2.) Godzilla 3.) Gamera 4.) My Little Pony 5.) HTTYD 6.) My Little Pony 7.) Jurassic World 8.) Murder Drones My favorite character from each fandom: 1.) Douxie Casperan 2.) Mothra 3.) Iris 4.) Dirk Thistleweed 5.) Hiccup Haddock 6.) Dirk Thistleweed 7.) Kenji Kon 8.) N STUFF I LOVE: I love Douxie Casperan, Krel Tarron, Mothra films, Kaiju films, collecting Kaiju figures until I run out of money, Douxie being an Alpha Dom Top, Tales of Arcadia, HTTYD, Hazbin Hotel, Voltron, MLP, crop tops, butterflies, moths, dinosaurs, sunny skies, sunsets, BDSM, pop and R&B music, visualizing about crazy animatics in my head while listening to music, drawing...gay stuff (18+), and writing hardcore, unhinged kinky smut. Favorite Mothra film: Rebirth of Mothra Favorite Godzilla film: Godzilla vs. Biollante Favorite Animated series: Wizards: Tales of Arcadia Favorite Animated Film: HTTYD 2 Favorite Song: Rain on Me, Crayons, and Next to You Favorite Musical Artist/s: Ariana Grande, CupcakKe, Lady Gaga Favorite Kaiju: Mothra Favorite Color: I seem to side myself with blue as much as possible (though, I love Teal, Violet, Purple, and Vermillion as well) Favorite food: Pancakes, waffles, and BBQ fries lol STUFF I HATE: (If you wanna interact with me, PLS under any circumstances DO NOT talk about this shit especially the one italicized, bold, and in red text) Whump fics, angst fics, karens, homophobes, racism, drama, Zoe Ashildr, Colonel Kubritz, King Arthur, Fanfics where Douxie is a submissive bottom, being abused, or hurt (seriously though, WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!), floods, mud, cheese, the color pink, the words "pterodactyl, brontosaurus, paradox, and gaslight", boring lectures, most of humanity, the military, unethical human experimentation, the government, politics, people who complain a lot, alcohol, darkness, Antis, the happy birthday song (because it offends me), interruptions, soldiers, most straight canon ships, cheese, haircuts, uninvited guests... ~ (have this cute lil' pic of me from last year with my Battra figure, hehe~)

Currently, I'm trying to write a crapsaccharine story about my OCs. Simply titled "Callisto", it's about a young demigod prince who must join forces with his friends to help control Earth's population and save their home from the multiple magical forces that threaten it. (so far I've barely progressed but I've got a few ideas that just need to be executed properly). Lastly, my birthday is on July 29

[f4y3w00d5]

Super detailed character profile chart

Character Name:

First Name: Faye

Last Name: N/A

Nickname (if any): N/A

Basic Information:

Age: Appears as 19.

Gender: Shapeshifter. Not Applicable. Generally she/they

Date of Birth: 13th October

Place of Birth: Australia.

Nationality: Australian

Physical Appearance:

Height: 5'4

Weight: not sure, but shes pretty skinny (doesnt eat)

Build: Very thin. shortish. slim.

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Purple

Scars or distinguishing marks: she has a few scars over her body (loads, actually. all over her.)

Personality Traits:

Positive Traits: Flirty, somehow charming, honest

Negative Traits: Can be possessive, obsessive, manipulative, sadistic, masochistic, blunt

Background and History:

Family Background: ...oh gods i wrote a short story about this.

Parents: 2 unknown cult leaders.

Siblings (if any): N/A

Childhood: Horrible. Cult. Sold. Orphanage. Murdered.

Education: Not really tbh... she was 'homeschooled' (taught to do stereotypically 'feminine' things like drawing cooking and cleaning)

School/College/University: N/A

Major/Area of Study: N/A

Favorite Subjects: She likes drawing and writing

Least Favorite Subjects: Maths

Career/Profession: Contract killer

Current Occupation: Contract killer

Previous Jobs (if any): Slave

Career Goals: Nope

Hobbies and Interests:

Hobbies: Drawing, gardening

Interests: ...her partners. Sex. Murder. Torture. Flowers.

Relationships:

Marital Status: Married multiple times!!

Romantic Relationships (if any): Mon, Vivi, Hypar, guy-i-forgot-the-name-of-who-bought-her, chronos, drewp, thermia, gobbo, selma, ash, good wizard, moss, slyme, tomas, cal, eris, cy

Friendships: Drew, Robin, Crow, Lichen and Neo (they fucked? More friends with Benefits)

Closest Friends: Robin and Drew probably

Relationship dynamics: ....oh gods i dont even know. she flirts with most of them? switches around

Strengths and Weaknesses:

Strengths: Well magic, poisons... quite a bit

Weaknesses: her partners. claiming her partners dont love her. water

Goals and Ambitions:

Short-term Goals: making aileax love her. getting pets

Long-term Goals: having fun ig

Fears and Insecurities:

Common Fears: water. losing her partners

Insecurities: that people dont like her

Quirks and Habits:

Quirks: purple eyes ig

Habits: flirting loads, giggling

Beliefs and Values:

Religious or Spiritual Beliefs: She doesnt

Moral Code: no rape, no child abuse, dont kill anyone not in double digits or more

Political Views: ANARCHYYY

Favorites:

Favorite Foods: blood, souls, pancakes, bananas

Favorite Books: Unknown books from hundreds of years back

Favorite Movies/TV Shows: The Outsiders, Nimona

Favorite Music: Punk rock/rock/alternative/fast paced sex shit

Favorite Color: purple/black

Dislikes:

Disliked Foods: watermelon

Disliked Activities: diplomacy shit

Pet Peeves: those annoying random sounds... flashing lights

Miscellaneous:

Talents or Skills: Murder? Making poisons

Secrets (if any): dunno...

[merry-the-cookie]

teresa hi can i ask for cashton for the outfit drawings with calum in E1 and ash in D3 pretty pls ily - monse <3

hello @lukemichaelcalumashton beloved, here u go, with a lil switcharoo on ash as we discussed.. bonus ashcot too cus i felt like it <3

[calypsolemon]

wtf flirty little benry