#cal is just down too bad i guess

[wheelie-butch]

stupidest part of being like 'yh i think there should be wolfpack/calculester robotfucking repair sex' isn't the fact it's a lowkey ridiculous ship ( I'm fine with that) its trying to engineer a situation in which it would Ever seem a good idea to let those guys near delicate electronics.

[swappermanent]

Summoned For Help (Part 2)

Over the next few weeks, the spell really started doing its thing. Every couple of nights, I’d feel that familiar pull—like a hand reaching inside me and tugging me into another dimension. One minute, I’d be chilling on my couch, scrolling through dating apps or playing a game, and the next, I’d open my eyes and find myself in Cal’s body, usually at a bar or just about to head home with someone.

Luckily, my body just kind of... autopiloted while I was out of it. I’d wake up the next morning in my bed, no memory of what my body had been doing while I was off playing sex therapist for Cal. That was a relief—I didn’t need the added stress of figuring out what to tell people while I was physically here but mentally gone.

And the nights I was in Cal’s body? They weren’t bad. I had a few solid hookups, made a few girls very happy—and by the time I got ejected, Cal was usually in a much better position than he’d started in. Literally. And I think maybe he was starting to learn a thing or two from me.

But then came the night everything shifted.

I wasn’t pulled in at the start of some flirtatious bar banter or a heated moment in a cab ride. No, this time, I got yanked into his body mid-thrust.

One second, I was dozing off in front of the TV, and the next, I was blinking into consciousness, sweat dripping down Cal’s brow, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him. The girl beneath me—well, beneath him—was staring off into space, looking bored out of her mind. Her body was stiff, her expression a mix of disinterest and maybe a little regret.

“Oh, hell no,” I thought. “This is a trainwreck.”

Cal’s voice popped up in my head almost instantly. “Whoa, dude, what the hell? I was handling this!”

“Were you?” I shot back, incredulous. “Because she looks like she’d rather be anywhere else.”

He hesitated, and I could feel his defensiveness crack. “I mean... I don’t know. She’s just quiet.”

“She’s quiet because you’re not paying attention,” I said. “Dude, she’s not relaxed at all. Did you even go down on her?”

Cal groaned, clearly embarrassed. “Uh... no. I mean, we just got right to it. She seemed into it.”

I mentally facepalmed. “Cal, come on. You can’t skip that. No wonder I got summoned back.”

I slowed everything down, pulling away and shifting my attention to her. “Hey,” I said softly, leaning close to meet her gaze. “You okay?”

She blinked, startled, and then smiled nervously. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“No, seriously,” I pressed, my tone gentle. “You can tell me if something’s off.”

Her shoulders relaxed a little, and after a moment, she nodded. “I guess I just... wasn’t really feeling it.”

“Okay. Let me fix that.”

I kissed my way down her body, taking my time, listening to her reactions, and tuning everything to what she liked. It didn’t take long before her stiff posture melted into the mattress, her disinterest replaced with soft sighs and murmurs of approval.

“Damn,” Cal said in my head, sounding both impressed and sheepish. “Okay, I get it. I really need to work on this.”

“You think?” I shot back, but I didn’t press further. Actions speak louder than words, and I was busy demonstrating exactly why she deserved more than his half-hearted efforts.

Afterward, when I was ejected from his body and back in my own, I got a text from him almost immediately.

CAL: So uh... thanks for that. Again. ME: You’re welcome. Again. But seriously, man, pay attention to them.

That wasn’t the last time something like this happened. Over the next few weeks, there were more instances where I’d get pulled in right in the middle of things. Every time, it was clear that Cal had started strong but lost focus—too caught up in his own pleasure to really tune into his partner.

And every time, I’d step in, recalibrate the situation, and get things back on track. I couldn’t say I minded too much—after all, it felt good knowing I was making things better for these women—but it was becoming increasingly obvious just how much work Cal still had to do.

---

One night, we were sitting on his couch, beers in hand, the game on TV serving as background noise. He seemed... off. Quieter than usual. When I asked him what was up, he sighed and shook his head.

“I don’t know, man,” he said. “I guess I’m just over it. The whole thing.”

“Over what?” I asked, not following.

“Hooking up,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, it’s not like it’s been going great, even with you tagging in. I don’t feel like I’m getting any better. If anything, I’m worse. Like, my confidence is shot. Every time I think about hitting on someone, I just... don’t.”

That threw me.

“I thought the whole point of this spell was to help you,” I said carefully. “You’re not giving up, are you?”

He shrugged. “Maybe I am. Maybe I just need to reset, you know? Get my head straight. I’ve been thinking about staying celibate for a while, focus on other stuff.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just nodded and took a swig of my beer. “If that’s what you want, man. Whatever makes you happy.”

But apparently, the spell didn’t agree.

It started a few days later, completely out of the blue.

I was making lunch in my apartment when I felt the pull—familiar by now, but still jarring. The world spun, and when my vision cleared, I was no longer standing in my tiny kitchen. I was in the middle of a grocery store, Cal’s hands gripping a cart full of food.

“What the hell?” I muttered under my breath, glancing around. This wasn’t the usual scene of a bar or a bedroom. People were milling about, grabbing produce and cereal boxes, oblivious to the fact that I had just taken over Cal.

“Why am I here?” I thought, not expecting an answer. But then it hit me—the spell. The rules were changing.

Cal’s voice appeared in my head, startled. “Dude, what’s going on? I was just shopping.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” I said. “And now I’m here. Any idea why?”

“No clue,” he said, sounding genuinely baffled.

I didn’t get it either—until my eyes landed on a guy in the next aisle. He was tall, with a sharp jawline and a charming smile that he flashed at me as he reached for a box of granola bars. It clicked instantly. The spell wasn’t waiting for Cal to take the lead anymore. It was picking targets for me.

“Oh, no way,” I muttered. “This is... ridiculous.”

“Wait, what are you—oh, God, no,” Cal groaned in my head as I turned the cart and casually made my way over to the guy.

“Hey,” I said, striking up a conversation. Turns out, flirting in Cal’s body was even easier than usual—it was like people gravitated toward him, no matter what. Before long, the guy was giving me his number, and I had him back at Cal’s place within an hour.

The spell didn’t eject me until it was over. By the time I was back in my own body, Cal was fuming.

“You’re hooking up with guys now?” he snapped over the phone.

“It’s easier,” I said, shrugging even though he couldn’t see me. “Besides, you’re the one who checked out. If the spell’s going to drag me into your body, I might as well make it quick.”

He groaned, but he didn’t argue. I figured he couldn’t—after all, this was his idea in the first place.

It kept happening. Random times, random places. I’d be yanked into Cal’s body during the most mundane moments—at work, in line for coffee, walking through the park—and every time, I knew exactly what I had to do. The spell wasn’t subtle about its intentions. It wanted Cal to have a sex life, and if he wasn’t going to make it happen, it would force me to do it.

The more it happened, the less Cal protested. At first, he’d grumble and complain when I picked up guys instead of women, but eventually, he just... accepted it. “Whatever,” he’d say. “At least you’re doing the job.”

But I could feel the tension building between us. This wasn’t what either of us had signed up for. The spell wasn’t just nudging things along anymore—it was taking over, hijacking both our lives to meet its goals.

Things finally came to a head one night when I was pulled into Cal’s body during a wild night at the club. The music was loud, the drinks were strong, and the girl I ended up dancing with was gorgeous. By the time we made it back to Cal’s place, things were already heating up, and I knew exactly where it was headed.

Let’s just say we both finished—hard. The orgasm was... incredible. Like nothing I’d ever experienced in my own body. And it wasn’t just the fact that this was the first girl I had hooked up with in all this that let me creampie her pussy nice and deep. No, there was something about being Cal—his strength, his stamina, the way his body seemed built for moments like this—I was really starting to get comfortable with it.

When it was over, we lay there in the dark, her head resting on Cal’s chest, both of us drifting off to sleep. I could feel it happening—my consciousness loosening, the familiar pull back to my own body starting to kick in. “Finally,” I thought, relieved to be heading back to the comfort of my own bed.

But when I opened my eyes the next morning, the sunlight streaming through the curtains, I was still in Cal’s body.

“What the hell?” I muttered under my breath, glancing down at the sleeping girl curled up beside me. My heart raced as I tried to process what was happening. I was supposed to be back in my own body. I knew I’d started to drift out.

That’s when it hit me.

The spell.

It wasn’t done with me yet.

It must have decided to keep me around because, of course, there was another opportunity. Morning sex.

I turned my head toward her, and as if on cue, she stirred awake, her eyes fluttering open and a sleepy smile spreading across her lips. “Morning,” she murmured, her voice soft and warm. She ran her fingers across Cal’s chest, clearly ready for another round.

And I? Well, I didn’t exactly argue.

After we were both thoroughly satisfied—and I mean thoroughly—I finally felt the pull again. This time, it was definitive, sharp and insistent, like the spell was saying, Okay, you’re done. Get out.

I barely had time to roll off the bed before my consciousness was yanked away, leaving Cal’s utterly depleted body behind. When I woke up in my own body, sprawled on my couch, I felt drained in my own way. Like I’d run a marathon in someone else’s shoes.

At this point, the spell had made its intentions clear. I wasn’t just being called in to help Cal anymore. I was essentially his default now—only sent back to my body when there was no chance his was getting laid.

---

Later that afternoon, Cal came storming into my apartment, his face a mix of frustration and something close to panic. He didn’t even knock—just shoved the door open and glared at me, arms crossed like a pissed-off dad.

Alright, what the hell are you doing?” he demanded, not even bothering to say hello.

I raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“The spell,” he snapped, stepping closer. “I don’t know what you’re messing with, but it’s not doing what it’s supposed to anymore.”

I leaned back against the couch, arms crossed. “Cal, you’re crazy. I’m not doing anything.”

“Bullshit,” he shot back. “You’re screwing with it. I know you are.”

“Why would I screw with it?” I said, my voice rising to match his. “This was your idea, remember? I didn’t even want to do this in the first place!”

Cal opened his mouth to fire back, but before he could, I felt it—that unmistakable pull.

“Oh, no,” I muttered, the room starting to spin.

When the world settled again, I was standing in Cal’s body, looking down at my own. My old self—now on autopilot—was just standing there, staring off into space. It was eerie, like looking at a mannequin version of me, except it moved subtly, fidgeting with its hands the way I always did when I was nervous.

“What the fuck?” Cal’s voice rang in my head, sharp and angry. “Why did the spell bring you here now?

“I don’t know!” I shot back, exasperated. “But it’s not me doing this, okay? If anything, you’re the problem.”

“Yeah, sure,” he scoffed.

That’s when it clicked. I turned my gaze toward my old body, a sly grin forming on Cal’s lips. “You know,” I said, mostly to myself, “I’ve always wondered what it’d be like.”

“What what would be like?” Cal asked, suspicious.

“To fuck me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” His voice rose, panicked, but I ignored him. My old body looked... good.

I stepped closer, leaning in just enough to make autopilot-me react. He blinked, tilting his head to look up at me, a faint smirk forming on his lips.

“Hey,” I said, Cal’s voice low and smooth. “You’re pretty cute, you know that?”

“Oh my God,” Cal groaned in my head.

“Relax,” I shot back. “And, hey, it’s working.”

And it was. My autopilot-self was clearly into it, responding exactly the way I knew I would. Flirting turned into touching, and before long, I had my old body pinned against the wall, its breath hitching in ways I was all too familiar with.

“Dude, stop!” Cal yelled, but his protests faded into the background as the moment took over.

When it was over, I lay there for a moment, catching my breath, waiting for the familiar pull—the sensation of being yanked back into my old body. But this time? Nothing happened.

I sat up slowly, stretching in Cal’s body, every movement radiating strength and ease.

Then I noticed something strange. My old body, lying beside me in what should have been autopilot mode, suddenly sat up. Its face—my face—twisted with confusion. It blinked a few times, and when it looked at me, I knew instantly that Cal was in there.

“Why am I looking at myself?” he said, his voice shaky, filled with disbelief. His eyes darted to his—my—hands, then back to me. “What the hell is happening?”

I couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face. “Looks like the spell achieved its purpose.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice rising with panic. “You’re... you’re me?”

I stood up, towering over him. The power in this body was intoxicating. Every nerve felt alive, humming with purpose. For the first time, I wasn’t just borrowing his strength—I was owning it. I looked down at my old body—at Cal—and let the truth settle in.

“The spell wasn’t going to let you fail,” I said, my voice calm but steady, as if explaining something inevitable. “Its whole purpose was to improve your sex life, to make you better. But you weren’t doing the work. So it found a solution. Cal’s sex life is going to be great from now on.”

His eyes widened as the realization hit. “No. No way. You can’t just—”

“I didn’t choose this,” I interrupted, my voice low and firm. “The spell did. You checked out, Cal. You gave up. And now? I’m everything you couldn’t be.”

His face twisted in anger, but it didn’t last. His expression faltered, replaced by something closer to despair. He looked down at his—my—hands, and I could see it sinking in.

I took a step closer, looking down at him, at the body I used to call mine. The calm I felt wasn’t just in my head—it radiated through every part of me. For the first time in my life, I felt whole.

“Face it,” I said, my grin widening. “I’m worthy of this body in a way you never were.”

As he stared up at me, the truth written all over his—my—face, I let out a low, satisfied chuckle.

This wasn’t just a new beginning. It was an ending—the one the spell had been guiding us toward all along.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Favorite Season 6 fics

So these used to be called "Fic recs for my BFF", but unfortunately I was unable to sway her to buddie, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ these are just for me now (and you guys too I guess 😅)

Season 6

🔥Curl Up in My Heart and Let Me Keep You by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Animal Transformation | 10K | Teen): When an orange tabby cat starts hanging around the Diaz house, Eddie doesn't think anything of it. The little guy's cute and cuddly, and seems to always know when Eddie's having a bad time. Weird how the cat's never around when Buck is, though.

🔥let the world have its way with you by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-Coma AU | 54K | Explicit): “It’s just that—I died,” Buck continues, voice unsteady enough that Eddie wonders if this is the first time he’s acknowledged that out loud. “I died, and there’s so much more. There’s so much more I want to do, things I don’t even know I want to do yet, and I almost had the chance to have and live them taken away. I don’t want to die and regret missing out on everything else, Eddie.” “So let’s make a list,” Eddie says. “Let’s do them.” or, a bucket list that’s really about buck needing to make a change and an eddie who’s ready to do anything to see him fall in love with life again. it takes some crossing off for eddie to realise—the thing at the top of the list in his own heart? it’s been right here all along

🔥like a dog with a bird at your door by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-S6, Getting Together | 51K | Explicit): The kid with blood pouring down his shins is not so far from the dog lonely enough that he thinks breaking his housetraining is worth it for the ten minutes of berating that come with it, the ten minutes of undivided, if reluctant, attention. Buck thinks, sometimes, that at least he wasn’t the kind of puppy that gets put in a sack and drowned at birth. He wasn’t always unwanted. And he isn’t anymore. or, evan “i love you like a dog” buckley has only ever known how to love like, well, a dog, but maybe eddie diaz is the kinda guy to give a flea-bitten mongrel a forever home

🔥Something Dumb to Do by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (Post-S6, Getting Together | 8K | Explicit): "Too bad we can't just date each other." Eddie laughs. "What?" "No, I'm serious!" Buck sets his beer down, the better to gesture with both hands, face lighting up, and Eddie just—he really loves the guy, okay. Ridiculous as he is. "It would be so much easier! You wouldn't have to introduce a new person to Chris—he already likes me anyway—and you could tell Pepa so she'll stop setting you up on dates that don't go anywhere—" "And what would you get out of this?" Eddie asks, grinning. — Or: Buck and Eddie try something out together. (Part 1 of homeward bound)

🔥find a way to you (if it kills me) by foxwatson/ @eddiediazes (Post S6E13: Mixed Feelings, Pining | 19K | Mature): It’s something about the way Eddie phrases it. Something about the combination of his words and the way he’s staring down at the floor, and the flush in his cheeks and the way he’s fidgeting. Buck thinks, abruptly, he’s going to ask me on a date. “Well I - wanted to tell you first, and I need someone to watch Chris, anyways - I know he’s getting old enough now he doesn’t like feeling like he’s got a babysitter, so I was hoping - sorry. Not the point. Uh. I have a date on Saturday.” Just as abruptly as his own hopes had come soaring up above the cloud cover of his own unawareness - they go crashing back down to the floor - to the basement, and into the mud. “A date?” Buck rasps out. — the one where eddie decides to start dating again, buck figures out his own feelings just a minute too late, and then he spends a week going through the five stages of grief

🔥Being Eddie by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Time Travel, Post-S6, Getting Together | 80K | Teen): When Eddie starts seeing a new therapist, he’s presented with the opportunity to revisit several days from his past and right regrets that still bother him. OR: Eddie goes through the time travel therapy process of the 2009 Canadian TV show Being Erica.

🔥 Evan Buckley & The Coma-Verse of Madness by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Coma AU, Multiverse | 58K | Teen): After being struck by lightning on a call, Buck experiences a plethora of alternate realities showing him different directions his life could have taken. Fighting hard to get home, Buck learns what, or who, is important to him in every lifetime.

🔥 Both Blade and Branch by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S6 | 62K | Mature): The chances of being struck by lightning twice are incredibly minute, but Buck still manages to pull it off. During a double date with Marisol and Natalia, nonetheless. Eddie manages to resuscitate him, but as Buck recovers from yet another trauma, Eddie can’t help but notice there’s something very different about him. He’s not quite sure what version of Buck he got back.

🔥 where all of the people dancing and clapping would greet me with such warmth by trysetmeonfire/ @try-set-me-on-fire (Season 6, Magical Realism | 15K | Mature): In the fall, Buck begins to disappear. (or: Buck can see that people become transparent when they're about to die) (Part 2 of All I Am, All That I Am)

🔥 Ace of Hearts by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (Post-S6, Getting Together | 9K | Teen): "I've been wondering…" Maddie pauses, watches Buck make a face like he's bracing to be smacked. "What happened with Eddie? You two were dancing around it for so long, and then… what, it just didn't work out? Was the date really that bad?" She's expecting another wince, or even for him to duck out of the conversation entirely, but instead Buck is staring at her like she's grown a second head. "Maddie. I've never been on a date with Eddie." Or: the poker game was a date. It takes Buck a while to catch on, though.

🔥 situations, circumstances, miscommunications ( i just may like some explanations ) by heartbeatdiaz / @lonelychicago (Didn't Know They Were Dating | 4K | Teen): "You didn't know?" Eddie asks, calmer but not less confused. He frowns. "How could you not know?" "You never said anything?" Buck tilts his head to the side. "We were dating?” “I guess not,” Eddie sighs. His heart is beating a little faster, an unpleasant buzz beneath his skin as he all but chokes on a feeling he can’t quite name— it could be hurt or disappointment or maybe a mix of both. In that moment, he knows three things very clearly. 1. Buck is going to be the death of him. 2. He is in love with the most dense, most oblivious man on planet Earth. 3. He is too gay and, honestly, too old for this shit.

🔥listen to you breathing (is where I wanna be) by Yavilee/ @theladyyavilee (Presumed Dead | 41K | Teen): The thing is – and Eddie should have known this, has been taught this cruel lesson over and over and over again – the thing is most of the time the worst day of your life will start like just any other day. A million small moments, so familiar and mundane you almost don’t even notice them slipping by - until you would give anything to go back and get just one more. (You can’t.) — Or the one where Buck is presumed dead after a building collapse and Eddie has to live through the reminder that tomorrow isn't promised to anyone

🔥Eddie Diaz vs The Feelings by ElvenSorceress/ @elvensorceress (Season 6, Sexuality Crisis, Demisexual Eddie | 62K | Explicit): Eddie dives into the mysteries of attraction, romantic love, and asexuality because there's a good chance he's fallen in love with his best friend. AKA demisexual!Eddie figures out he’s demi and finds the happily ever after he’s been longing for

🔥tomorrow will always and forever now be today (tomorrow is our always and forever) by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (Post-S6, Time Loop | 43K | Mature): "Think I can get a hug from my best man on my wedding day?" he asks, quietly hopeful in a way that makes Eddie want to tear off his skin. "Sure," Chris replies with a shrug, turning to throw Eddie a cheeky grin. "Dad, Buck needs a hug." Two things happen at once then: Eddie has to plaster on a smile authentic enough to convince the one person on this planet that knows him inside out—except he doesn't really have to fake his smile, not at first, because of number two—he sees groom-Buck for the first time. And groom-Buck is every bit as beautiful as Eddie might have imagined him over the years. For a moment, Eddie falls into the greatest betrayal his brain has ever laid out for him, imagining that he might have got to see Buck like this for the first time from the other end of the aisle— (OR: eddie gets trapped in a time loop on the day buck marries natalia)

🔥 Muscle Memory by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S6, Amnesia AU | 40K | Teen): After a disappointment in his personal life, Buck wakes up one morning to find everyone he loves has forgotten him completely. No memories. No recognition. Almost like he was never really there.

🔥 but i can see all along, love (it was you all the way down) by diazchristopher/ @captain-hen (Post-S6, Time Loop | 28K Mature): He puts his laptop away after a bit, and paces the length of his apartment as he tries to take stock of the situation at hand. One: The date is March 22nd, 2024. Two: It has been March 22nd for 3 days now. Three: Buck is trapped in some kind of time loop that is forcing him to relive this day. Four: Eddie is, apparently, in love with him. And. And. Five: Buck doesn’t feel the same way.

🔥 a blaze in the dark by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (Post-S6, Eddie Coming Out | 117K | Explicit): Set post-Season 6, where Buck has inadvertently sacrificed his friendship with Eddie in order to focus on his new relationship with Natalia, and is shocked when Eddie comes out to the team and subsequently reveals that he is dating a guy.

AUs

🔥Nothing Left But You by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars ("Blip" AU, Post-S4E13: Suspicion | 27K | Teen | Warning: MCD): In May of 2021, 25% of Earth's population suddenly disappears. Including Eddie. In May of 2026, they all come back. Eddie finds himself suddenly in the middle of a world he doesn't recognize, where the people he loves most have changed significantly.

🔥 Your Love is an Oil Slick (It Glows like Rainbows, It Stains My Soul) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Canon Divergent - Supernatural Elements, Ghost Buck | 67K | Explicit): When Eddie's son claims he has an imaginary friend, Eddie doesn't think much of it. Christopher is seven, it's what kids do. But then weird things start happening around the house, and Eddie starts dreaming about a handsome blue-eyed man. Turns out, Christopher's friend isn't so imaginary. Their house is haunted.

🔥like when the sun came out by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Canon Divergent, Ghosts | 39K | Mature): He completely pulls the charger from the wall as he fumbles to put in his passcode. He doesn’t know who to call first. Everyone is busy, carrying on with their lives and Buck is stuck here in the loft with the terrifying ghost of his childhood like an omen. Out of the corner of his eye he catches the Crooked Smiled Man now standing in the dark entrance way to his bathroom. He swallows around the taste of blood in his mouth, hands shaking, useless as his list of contacts blur beneath the burn of tears. Eddie Eddie Eddie. He doesn’t know where the feeling comes from, but it’s sudden and sharp and excruciating. Eddie is the first name at the top of his list, his most recent calls and texts, and he doesn’t hesitate to hit the call button. [or buck can see ghosts au]

🔥All My Shattered Oaths by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Vampires AU | 107K | Explicit): Eddie wants to stay away from his family’s legacy and give his son a normal life. Buck’s desperate to find a way to get over the love he lost. Fate has other plans for both of them.

🔥 Further Than Blood (Or Than Bones) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Vampires AU | 50K | Explicit): Once, Eddie chose to save a newly turned against his better judgment. Five hundred years ago, Buck was saved by a rescuer he thought was a hallucination. Now they're together again and about to find out just how far either of them will go to try and deny what they are to each other.

🔥 let it pour out of your soul series by Rianne/ @rianneeyre (Magical Realism AU, Witch Eddie | 3 works | 71K | Complete):

collectively unconsciously composed (S4E6: Jinx | 46K | Explicit): Or: in which the author re-watched Buck Begins and Jinx and thought: what if this was gayer and had actual magic?

that systematic drug (PWP | 5K | Explicit): Eddie’s mouth goes dry when he opens the door and sees Buck. He’s clean-shaven and with his hair carefully styled back, smiling at Eddie sweetly and a little teasingly. Buck is wearing his dark jeans and his light blue v-neck polo shirt, the one that’s tight enough that it shows off the bulge of his biceps and the definition of his pecs and abs. Eddie knows this shirt. Buck's favourite, because he knows he looks good in it.

something binding us together (Established Buddie | 20K | Teen): Or: Eddie plans a long-avoided visit to his parents, discovers some things about his magic, and begins to build his family a home in LA's witching community.

[storiesfromafan]

My Girl - Benny Cross x Reader

A/N: I know this is a slow series, but hopefully it's not too bad 😅

(Also, posting this from my phone, might have to fix this up later 😅😅)

Previous: Part One, Part Two, Part Three

I’ve got sunshine, on a cloudy day

When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May (ooh)

I guess you’d say

What can make me feel this way?

My girl, my girl, my girl

Talkin’ ‘bout my girl, my girl

- My Girl by The Temptations

It had been a week since Benny spoke to you. And it was all he could think about. Sure, he’d seen you around the town, mostly at the grocery shop or the diner, in passing. But it wasn’t enough. He’d gotten a taste of your sweet voice. Seeing you up close; the colour of your eyes, which had specs of (colour) to them. How your hair was (colour) but when the light hits it, it looked (colour). How your cheeks go a rosy colour when you were shy or embarrassed. Benny wanted to experience it all so much more.

Cal waved his hand in front of Benny's face, snapping the young Vandal from his thoughts of you. That’s right, he was currently playing a game of pool with the man laughing at him. While waiting for his shot, it looks like Benny had zoned out again. Holding the cue against his body, Benny shot Cal and those around him an embarrassed smile. Which only made them laugh.

“Sorry" he muttered, moving with his cue to the pool table and looking over his options. Before finally lining up his shot and taking it, sinking the four ball.

Johnny was sitting near by on a stool, nursing his beer. “Ya alright kid? Ain’t like ya to be off with the fairies".

Before Benny could say a word, Cal beat him to the punch. “Yeah, he’s alright. Just found himself a girl".

Johnny raised his eyebrows in surprise, this was the first time he’d heard about there being a girl. “Is that right, huh?”

Another man – one from the diner incidents – laughed before speaking up, “yeah! She’s a shy, little thing. Some of the guys were makin' fun of her, but Benny stepped in and told them to ‘knock it off’”.

Johnny nodded, listening to the man’s words. Benny stood back from the pool table – his turnover – as he listened to them, embarrassed by the retelling of the diner. But it was true. He stepped in and defended you. And he would do it again for you if needed him too.

Sliding off his stool, Johnny down the rest of his beer before walking past Benny. He chuckled, patting him on the back. “Well, ya'll have to bring her around sometime. Would be nice to meet the girl that’s got ya by the balls".

Johnny then walked off to speak with a few other guys. Cal and the guys around Benny laughed at their leaders' words. They even jostled Benny and shared their own comments, which he wasn’t too fond of. But Benny knew he’d have to bring you to the bar. It would be a shock for you, but he knew you could handle it. Plus he’d be there with you, making sure nothing happened to you.

“Alright, spill!” Fran demanded, as she and Sandra sat across from you in a booth at the diner where this all began.

“Yeah! I had to hear it from my neighbour, who heard from her hair dresser, who got the gossip from Mrs Martin about Benny coming into the grocery store! And talking to you!?” Added Sandra.

You sat on your side of the booth, wishing it would swallow you up from their intense gazes. Once more, they asked you about Benny. And to be honest, you didn’t know what it meant. He’d come in for gum, and you shared a small conversation.

Taking a sip from the milkshake before you, you sat back and cleared your throat. “Well...there’s not much to say-" you started before being interrupted.

“Oh bull!” Huffed Fran. “From what we’ve heard, it was pretty intense between you too!”

“Yeah, so don’t down play it!” Added Sandra.

You sighed. “Really! It wasn’t like that, it wasn’t that big a deal!” You took a moment to gather your thoughts. “It went like this; I was just working and stupidly singing when I was surprised to see Benny. And I was a complete bumbling idiot! He wanted to buy gum-"

“Gum?” Both women questioned.

You nodded. “Yes, gum. He then apologised for the Vandals comments" you recalled that moment a week ago. “Benny then asked for my name, which I gave him, and he said it was pretty, that it suits me...then Mrs Martin showed up, and yeah, she wasn’t pleasant to him at all".

Both women stared at you, as you went back to your milkshake. “Bull" Sandra said, leaning over the table. “That’s not the story, right?”

“Yeah, its too...clean?” Fran said confused.

You wanted to laugh at their faces, but held back. “It’s the truth".

Both women sat back against the booth, utterly confused. As they began to tell you, the way they heard it was some big drama. That Benny was harassing you when Mrs Martin stepped in. Not to mention one retelling told that you were shamelessly flirting with Benny, practically in his hands, one palm on each cheek, and not that of your face. You blushed at the notion.

“If this is what we've heard, just imagine what your parents might hear" Fran's words sobered you up.

You hadn’t even thought about your parents, and God only knows what they’ll say, or do, if they hear the gossip of Benny and you. But it being after a week and only now had your friends heard about it. So, there could be a small chance they might not hear it. So long as you stayed clear of any further gossip, you might be in the clear.

Unfortunately for you, the other half of the gossip mill didn’t know your plan. You heard the bell above the diner door jingle and heavy feet. You were talking to your friends, not even caring about your surroundings. It was only when you glanced up to look at Sandra and Fran, discussing a coming movie to your local theatre, were you confused to see their shocked faces. They looked stunned, mouths slightly agape and eyes wide. Before you could questioned them the silence at your table was disturbed by an all too familiar gruff voice.

“Hey (Y/N)”

You turned only to find Benny. Who looked just as good as the last time you’d seen him. Only this time he was wearing dirty white jeans, black t-shirt and his denim vest that sported the Vandal colours. The way he looked at you with those baby blues of his, warm and twinkling. The way his full lips turned up in a shy, slightly toothy smile.

You felt one of your friends kick your foot, snapping you from your observation of him. “H-hi Benny...”

Hearing his name from your lips, in that honeyed voice of yours, had Benny's heart skipping a beat. His smile brightened, and he slowly began to relax. Finally, he noticed your companions, which he smiled at – but not as brightly as he had you. Benny even shot them a hey. You’d have laughed at their reaction to being acknowledged by the gorgeous Vandal. But you were busy trying to wrap your head around him being here in the first place. And even then, that voice in the back of your head was telling you to be careful, you don’t need more gossip getting around town.

“Mind if I join ya?” Benny asked, looking at you, yet not even waiting for your reply before slipping in into the booth next to you, boxing you in without an escape.

All you could do was look at Benny, not doubt like a deer in headlights, while he just continued to look at you. That charming smile on his lips. Both Fran and Sandra shared a look before turning back to you and Benny. One of the women cleared their throat, which got your attention. Turning from Benny, breaking the connection between you both. From there, they made small talk, which was mostly directed at Benny. Who only gave vague or one word answers.

You found it amusing how he didn’t seem to care for their attention. Yet when you spoke, he listened attentively and spoke to you. Slowly, you relaxed and were able to drink the rest of your milkshake, all while those baby blues watched you. Fran and Sandra eventually left, as they weren’t getting any of Benny's attention. So they slinked away with their tails between their legs.

“Finally, just us" Benny sighed, placing his arm on the back of the booth. His fingers brushing your clothed back.

A small, pleasant shiver ran down your spine. Your breath catching for a moment. You imagined what it would be like if you had been wearing a sun dress. How warm he would be, how rough those pads would be against your skin.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Benny's rough voice said into your ear, his breath fanning over you from how close he was to you.

When you turned to look at him, you were surprised to see how close Benny was. Being so close, you could see how blue his eyes were, with small specs of a darker blue. They were beautiful and captivating. You could easily get lost in those blues.

“A-ah, yeah...I'm fine" you squeaked out, making Benny chuckle.

He moved back a little, a warm smile crossing his lips at your words. “Good. I wanna know, do you wanna come to a meetin’ when I get back in town?”

You blinked. “You’re leaving?”

“Just for a few days, sweetheart," he replied, drumming his hands on the booth.

“Oh...” you muttered.

Then you took a moment to think over his offer. You knew you should keep your distance, stop any chance of gossip coming back to bite you. And yet, this was the second time he’d sought you out. Coming to talk to you. You should be running away from Benny Cross, and yet you wanted to move closer to him. Maybe you could be a girl he could want.

‘You sure?’ That voice asked. Yet you did your best to ignore it.

Pushing away your thoughts and insecurities, forgetting the repercussions that could come from talking and being seen with Benny. You couldn’t deny how you liked having his attention. So, you made your bed and planned to lie in it.

“Sure Benny" you smiled.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Hello Cal!! 💕💕💕💕

Maximum for 🧜‍♂️ please!

I am LOVING this fic!

-❤️🪐

Hi Saturn! ❤️THANK YOU!!!!

1k for 🧜‍♂️:

---

 Like he needs the support right now. Eddie wants to give it to him. Carefully, he wraps an arm around Buck’s shoulders. Buck tips his head onto Eddie’s collar bone. 

“Thanks,” Buck mumbles. “For all of it.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Eddie says. “We have each other’s backs, right?”

Buck inhales sharply. “We do.”

🌊

The next few times Buck shifts in the water, it hurts. Not as badly. Not as intensely. Like his tail is growing more and more used to the pain. Still, he avoids it more than he would like. More than he should. More than his body needs. But the pain concerns him. Makes him think of the accident. So he avoids it, going to the ocean only when he becomes desperate. 

Instead, he focuses on getting back to work. He attends mandatory physical therapy appointments. The practitioner is also baffled at Buck’s speedy recovery process. 

“I’ve never seen anything like this for the injury and surgery you had,” she says. 

“Guess I’m just lucky,” Buck shrugs it off.

He is. He is lucky. He knows that. Just, sometimes he feels like a freak and not even a freak that gets to properly enjoy the water anymore. 

But it’s not all bad. He gets back to work in late June. A Fire Department legend, apparently. As long as that’s the only thing they think is legendary about him, he’s fine with it. Bobby is watching him like a hawk. Like he’s waiting for him to crumble to pieces. He doesn’t know why Buck is okay. That’s his own near death is why Buck is unharmed right now. A very strange thing to be grateful for. 

Plus, on top of work, he still has Eddie. Eddie, who he spends more time with nowadays than anyone. Eddie, who is without a doubt the best friend he’s ever had. Eddie, who is the only person who knows the weight of the secret on his shoulders. Eddie, who Buck has started to look at differently lately. 

It’s sort of strange, because Eddie is always making Buck feel things he didn’t really think were possible. For example, before he’d met Eddie - and for a good amount of time after he met Eddie - Buck would have confidently called himself straight. Comfortable in the fact that he’d been attracted to all the women he’s been with. Content with that identity. Not looking to explore. 

Except, if that were entirely true, things would be a bit different for Buck, wouldn’t they? He wouldn’t think about things like how Eddie’s eyes are so beautiful. His smile wouldn’t make Buck feel warm. Buck wouldn’t have wished, that day on the beach when Eddie held him, for Eddie to have touched more of him. He wouldn’t want to be around him all the time. He wouldn’t wonder about what kissing him would be like, when he is. 

Maybe Buck should do something about that. But he’s too damn chicken. 

🌻

It starts as a joke. 

Eddie swears. Just a joke. 

Buck is over one weekend day. Christopher is at a classmate’s birthday. Buck is sort of down. He tried shifting again recently and the pain was still there. They decided to take it easy. Movie, beers, chips.

“We should watch Splash. Study your culture,” Eddie had teased him.

“I don’t know what that is,” Buck says. “Is it set in Pennsylvania or something.”

“Oh my god, Buck,” Eddie had sighed. “We’re fixing this.”

Buck shrugs. “If you say so.”

“I do!” Eddie insists. “There’s a mermaid.”

“Oh?” Buck raises an eyebrow. “Is it a cartoon?”

“Just watch, Buck.”

And they do. Buck is delighted by it. The humor. The ‘unrealistic’ mermaid plot. Though, what does he know, really? He’s only met himself. 

There’s a strange moment, midway through the movie, where Tom Hanks’ character is dressed in 80s-style gym shorts. The type that are pretty short cut, reveal a lot of thigh. Buck shifts a little. He sort of looks at Eddie out of the corner of his eye, and then looks back at the screen.

“They’re both kind of hot, huh? Like, both leads?” Buck asks awkwardly. 

“Daryl Hannah and Tom Hanks?” Eddie asks.

Buck nods. 

Wait a minute. What is going on here? Buck is into Tom Hanks? A young Tom Hanks. Okay, yeah. Eddie can see the appeal. He certainly did as a kid watching this. But Buck? Buck isn’t… Is he? He called himself an ally. 

“Can’t say either of them do anything for me personally,” he replies, trying to keep it casual. “But I see the appeal.”

“Right, yeah, well…” Buck stammers. “Right.”

“Good job on the complete sentence, there,” Eddie teases. 

“Shut up,” Buck nudges him. 

They’re sitting a bit closer on the couch than they were when the movie started. 

Then it sort of takes another turn. See, it’s been years since Eddie has seen the movie. Well over a decade. Sophia used to watch it all the time, but Eddie started spending less and less time with his little sisters when life got… Well, complicated. Anyway, the point is, Eddie doesn’t remember it beat for beat. He doesn’t remember the scene where Madison is sprayed down with water leaving a party, by someone determined to out her, and shifts immediately, being photographed and mobbed and eventually taken by government scientists. 

Eddie can’t miss the way Buck tenses. Goes a little white. Honestly? Eddie feels it too. He’s not a merman, obviously. But the thought of being outed like that makes him queasy. And scared. Very scared. 

“I’m sorry,” he tells Buck. “I forgot about this scene. I… I can turn it off.”

“No,” Buck says. “It’s okay. I want to see how it ends.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie mumbles again. 

“Don’t be, Eddie. It’s a movie.”

“But you know… You know I’d never let that happen to you, right? I’d… I’ll always protect your secret. I’d never-”

“You’re not always with me,” Buck says lowly. “And I have more control over it than her.”

[bekolxeram]

So... I said I couldn't wait for the plane disaster arc to be over, and I still stand by that statement. If you read my blog regularly, you'd know I loved it, the more plane stuff the merrier, but at the same time, it was a huge relief for me to finally be able to move on.

Warning: long rant incoming

I joined this fandom last season because of my love for BuckTommy and aviation, I've made it clear many times before. I saw comments downplaying Tommy's role in the cruise ship rescue, and I thought, well I know a thing or two about how hard flying is, especially flying a helicopter, so maybe I should write something about it.

Fast forward to last month, someone asked me whether Tommy could fly a plane realistically, so I answered it as they asked, realistically no. I can imagine him flying a light plane as a hobby, but never a four engine turboprop military plane that takes 5-12 crew members to fly, or an airliner that's basically a flying computer. I wasn't even aware of the Airport 1975 pilot transfer theory at first, so imagine my shock when I woke up to multiple posts naming my theory by name, (yeah, I said the water bomber in 2x14 belonged to CAL FIRE, I made my first post about this a long time ago, and I don't think anyone from the other side even made the effort to dig this deep, so those posts were referring to me) each with 400+ notes, and many reblogs by people I'd been following, telling me to shut the fuck up. It wasn't even aware that my aviation hc would be anything close to controversial, it deeply upset me and it fundamentally changed my interaction with the fandom as a whole.

I tried putting my more aviation focused posts under a specific tag that people can block if they're not interested, still, like clockwork, some posts popped up in the main ship tag around 6 hours later, digging up old interviews from Tim saying "Tommy did the water drop, just off screen" or expressing their disbelief that there were still people out there who thought Tommy didn't fly the air tanker.

I wanted to explain my reasoning, but I knew it would come across as needlessly confrontational, so I kept my mouth shut. I saw the pilot transfer theory gaining traction, I knew it was too crazy and too expensive for the show to pull off, but I kept my mouth shut. I even leaned into that theory at one point saying Tommy could be flying the helicopter in that stunt, but still the theory was hyped up more and more and its supporters were gradually getting more annoyed by me. I knew I would feel bad whether Tommy rappel into that cockpit or not, because on one hand, I hate that film with a burning passion, on the other, I basically stood back and watched everyone got their hopes way up then witnessed them getting crushed in real time.

Now Schrödinger's cat box is opened, without Tommy in it, I guess there's no need for me to self censor anymore. So here are some stuff I was too afraid to post when people were still deeply invested in their theory, before we all move on from this disaster arc.

The writers don't care about timeline, they can't even get when Tommy transferred out of the 118 right

Tommy supposedly left the 118 right before Buck joined, so 7 years ago, but in 7x09 Tommy said he joined Harbor 5 years ago. My very first post on this site is about this timeline conflict. My explanation was that it takes some years of training before you can even touch a helicopter at Air Ops (in real life LAFD sends you to LAPD for basic training), so Tommy probably only officially transferred to Harbor 5 years ago.

That led to a lot of comments saying the writers just didn't give a damn, they didn't care to google or get their story right, just accept it. But you don't even need to google. The description Tommy gave Buck in the Harbor tour scene was lifted straight from the LAFD Air Ops website, and you know what? If you scroll a little bit further down, you can clearly see the "at least two years of LAFD AIr Operations training line". It takes less than 5 minutes to read it all through.

Tim said Tommy did the water drop, so it's canon he flew that plane in 2x14

Someone pulled out Tim's interview specifically to disprove my CAL FIRE hc. Yeah, he did say Tommy did the water drop:

But I've never heard anyone from the show said Tommy was literally grabbing the yoke, pulling the thrust levers, flying the plane. A C-130 (or L-100 as the civilian variant) is not a single engine water scooper, it's a four engine monstrosity.

The heavier the plane, the faster it has to fly for the wings the generate enough lift to keep it in the sky, right? Well, in order to drop water/fire retardant in an accurate and effective fashion, the C-130 has to fly low and slow enough that the flight crew has to get used to hearing the "terrain! terrain! pull up!" and "stall! stall!" warnings at all time during a mission.

In fact, the C-130 water tanker usually flies behind a lead plane, most of the time a lighter business jet that surveys the area and plots the optimal route for the water drop. It fires a line of smoke to mark out the designated location for the payload, the C-130 behind it just has to release the water/fire retardant once the nose of the plane hit the trail of smoke.

That coordination is extremely cool.

The C-130 takes at the very least 3 crew members to fly: 2 pilots and a flight engineer, no fly-by-wire on this one, but it usually takes even more for a safer more accurate operation.

I can absolutely picture Tommy being one of the people sitting behind the pilots in 2x14. They didn't have a lead plane, so maybe the CAL FIRE guys asked him to pull his weight, since he was the one who asked for the favor and he was also an aerial firefighter, they needed an extra pair of professional eyes anyway. So technically he did the water drop, but he flew no plane that day. (I have a fully developed backstory in my head about Tommy's involvement in that episode, but unfortunately I'm not a good writer, and it'll probably piss people off more than it entertains them. It's about a clandestine mission à la 7x03 and Tommy's meet cute with his ex boyfriend)

If you've made it this far, you probably really like my blog or aviation stuff, and I think you for your support. At one point, I told myself I would leave the fandom behind if I saw one more post telling me to shut up, I got so closed to it. Now, reading post after post saying leaving the newly reintroduced pilot character out of the show's plane disaster arc is a missed opportunity just makes me, I don't know, kind of sad? I've always thought he's just a helicopter pilot, he wouldn't be much help in guiding the crippled jet down anyway, that I was right, but then what? It doesn't feel good to be right this time. I can accept not seeing Tommy working with the 118 on the ground, I can be patient and wait for a week longer for his presence, but accidentally annoying people with what I thought was fun trivia, watching hundreds of them clown on me for taking the show too seriously, for being a nitpicker, for being too obsessive, I don't think I can ever erase it from my mind.

Let's just hope we can all move on (mostly on my part), and I can return to making bad quality humorous gifs about our boys. I'll still post stuff about aviation, now that it's less controversial. If you're a brave soul you can go search for the tag I created for others to block (#aviation realism).

[theotherbuckley]

WIP Wednesday 💜

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone 💗 I have an exam later today and then it’s my birthday tomorrow heh anyway here’s some healing fic and guess what! Buck is actually healing :D

TW: mentions of SH scars

Bobby knocks on the door again. “I’m starting dinner now. It will be ready in about an hour, okay?”

Buck doesn’t say anything.

“Buck?” He hears again. Fuck, Bobby thinks something’s happened to him, he’s so stupid he should just respond. Just say okay.

“Buck, are you okay in there?”

He puts on his short-sleeve shirt and opens the door. “I—I’ll help. If you—If you want.” If you still want me here. If you can look at me after this.

Bobby stands frozen, surprise written on his face. And then he smiles. There are tears in his eyes, but he’s smiling nonetheless. He draws Buck into his arms and gives him the biggest hug.

He knows how he looks — arms battered and beaten with a blade and his own mind as the weapon. It’s not a pretty sight. Yet here is Bobby, holding him like he might disappear if he lets go, loving him in spite of his flaws.

This is all Buck ever wanted. To be loved anyway.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” Athena says before joining in and wrapping her arms around Buck.

He has a family.

He is not alone.

Maybe, maybe he can get through this.

When they break apart, tears streaming down all of their faces, Bobby says “I’d love some help.” And that’s that.

He helps with dinner the best he can. Bobby doesn’t let him use the knives, which he understands to an extent, but also, he’d never do that in front of them, he wouldn’t subject them to that. Regardless, he helps add the spices, get some herbs from the garden, and dress the salad. He still feels better than he has in weeks, even with Bobby looking at him every 5 seconds like he’s checking he’s still there. It’s nice to know that someone cares enough to check.

“We love you so much,” Athena says at one point. “I just want to remind you. We love you no matter what.”

Buck looks at her, with glistening eyes, and says, “I love you, too. Thank you.” He doesn’t know what else he can say to convey just how grateful he is for their existence. For taking him in and loving him even when he’s at his worst. For loving him like he’s theirs. Which he is, he supposes, they’re family afterall.

Tagging the usual moots <3 @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @jeeyuns @wildlife4life @honestlydarkprincess @eddiebabygirldiaz @spagheddiediaz @jesuisici33 @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @giddyupbuck @eowon @elvensorceress @watchyourbuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @king-buckley @rainbow-nerdss @cal-daisies-and-briars @evanbegins @diazsdimples @wikiangela @bucksbirthmark  @underwater-ninja-13 @daffi-990 @fionaswhvre @aspecbuddie @lover-of-mine @nmcggg @tizniz @monsterrae1 @smilingbuckley @buckaroosheart @hippolotamus @incorrect9-1-1 @buckdefencesquad @actualalligator let me know if you’d like to be added or removed <3

(Edit: i accidentally posted this at 12am Wednesday instead of 12pm ajidksksk my bad guys)

[deathofacupid]

weighing scale

tw: eating disorder (purging, not eating), bodyshaming, ed shaming

btw, if it's requested, i can turn drabbles into full oneshots!!!!!!!!!!!!!

you guys are beautiful the way you are, and nothing anybody ever says or does will ever change that. remember that gaining weight is totally normal, and you can always lose weight, too, but please, do it in a healthy way. if you ever need anyone to talk to, and this isn't just for eds, i'm here, and you can reach out. if not, there are people who care about you and love you.

you're amazing you beautiful mfs

(also i'm sorry if this might not be correct for you, everyone has different experiences with eds)

(also, also, i did 1st person ... and this is just the way i thought when i was going thru this so i kinda made it relate w/ me??)

100.

98.

96.

she watched as the numbers went down, satisfied despite the fact that it was only one pound less yesterday.

90.

88.

even if it meant that she'd always be cold, or that her hair would fall out. it was a small price to pay to be beautiful. to be skinny. to be like all the other girls that peter liked.

y/n kept telling herself that. and it was enough to keep her going.

{four weeks prior}

(first person)

they had little packets for us to take home, like forms. something along the lines of "annual health check-up." the form was just... well, it wasn't a form, really, but more of an opt-out. the paper said they'd just check weight, height, and some other things, like make sure you didn't have scoliosis.

honestly?

i was just happy to be missing a good chunk of math.

everyone got called down to the gym by period, and mine was 5th period, right before lunch.

our class was waiting for them to call us down, so mr. callen just let us do whatever until then. i glanced over to see liz, kayla, and chloe in the corner of the classroom, giggling and pointing towards some of the boys, and eventually, mr. callen.

he was one of the youngest members on faculty, fresh out of college. and i'll admit, he's not bad looking. in fact, he's hotter than most of the guys. and if it wasn't peter that had my heart, maybe i'd think about someone else.

not that the whole peter thing was going great anyways, he seemed interested in liz. so maybe that was my hint to move on. but i don't know. i've just liked him forever, it'd feel wrong to stop now.

i'm just really loyal, i guess.

or maybe this is some weird first love/crush thing, because no matter what, i keep finding myself coming back to him.

it took me second to realize that i'd been staring at the same spot for a while now, so i probably looked funny. i re-adjusted my position and looked at the clock, noting there there was just a few minutes until we'd have to go down.

i looked by at the girls, then at the teacher. did they not realize that he had an engagement ring on? or where they just dense?

because honestly, i'm having a hard time figuring out which one it is.

liz pushed chloe over to the desk, giggling like a manic.

chloe bit her lip, trying to hold in laughter. "hiiii, cal. you know, like, cupid's day is coming?"

me, personally, i didn't really believe in the whole dumb blonde thing, but chloe was changing my aspect on this.

cupid's day was on valentine's day, and you could pay a dollar to have a rose delivered to someone. normally, the freshmen girls did most of the planning. freshmen girls were annoying. they were always together, and i didn't remember a time i'd seen one alone.

i didn't get any on my first year here. last year i got three. but it didn't really count, because mj got me one and betty did. i was hoping that i'd figure out who the third person was, but three weeks into that investigation, i kinda gave up. if they hadn't revealed themselves to me at that point, i'd figured that they probably wouldn't.

maybe junior year will go better.

if you were popular popular, you got at least seven, so it was kind of embarrasing to only get one. and it was probably even more embarrasing to only have, like, one friend. which was betty. but she hadn't hung around me that often since she started dating ned.

mj was an observer, and i knew that much. it was probably the only reason she got me a rose, because she felt bad. but then again, anyone could see how pathetic it was.

peter and i used to be pretty close, but then he met ned, so the attention he gave me got halved.

i would have tried to be friends with ned, because i know he's really nice, but i stressed out too much about it for some reason and gave up. social anxiety, perhaps? it didn't matter, it was too late to do anything about it now.

after that, peter started hanging around liz and some of the other popular kids, and entirely forgot about me.

did forget about ned, though. maybe beacuse i was a girl, and so peter got called "gay" a lot for that. i didn't have much of a chance compared to liz, so i just admired him from afar. it's not that we didn't talk, because we did sometimes, but... actually, i don't know what.

if peter wanted to, he would have.

and it's fairly obvious, but i'm delusional and chose to ignore that.

the intercom snapped me out of whatever zoning out i'd gone back to, "block d, block d. i-is this on? oh, it is? i- yes, block d down to the gym."

everyone got up and pushed their way out the door, i didn't have that type of energy, so i just waited for everyone to get their butts outta the way and then went myself. i followed them down to the hall, staying behind a little. when i finally got over there, i ended up last, right behind chloe, kayla, then liz.

for the most part, it only took a minute or two for each person, so the line didn't take that long.

well, i suppose that's subjective.

it took 15 minutes, but whatever.

when liz was inside, she didn't take care to close the door all the way, leaving it a couple inches open. that's on her.

that's on her for being irresponsible, so it's not really my fault if i accidently hear. i leaned in a little, suddenly very interested in the wall, with all it's cracks... and... paint, and...

"and step on the scale, please... that is," she paused, and you could hear scribbling of a pen.

"121.3 pounds. perfectly healthy. that's actually the average weight for girls your age," another pause, "make sure to give this form to your parents. have a nice day."

liz said something in return and i stepped back, done admiring the wall. "next!" the lady called in.

i stepped inside the room, and it smelt strongly of hand-sanitizer. "okay, honey, step up against the wall... height is... alrightly. now the scale, please."

i did as she asked, keeping my eyes trained on the numbers.

149.7 pounds. basically 150. that was more than liz's, right?

"149, okay, you're good to go-"

"is that around average weight?" i asked, and it was impulsive, i didn't even think.

"well, it's somewhere around that. you're perfectly healthy."

the intercom came on again, signaling my time was over, and the lady thought the same thing, because she ushered me out.

as i walked back to the classroom, i couldn't help but think;

149? no, 150? around average? so basically, i was above average. 30 pounds heavier than liz? no wonder peter likes liz better.

god, that's disgusting. i'm disgusting.

i trudged back to class, unable to stop thinking about it. and suddenly, an idea popped into my mind; why not lose weight? if i lost a little, maybe peter would care about me again.

that's genius. god, i'm a genius.

yeah. i lose a little weight.

when i got back, he'd already started the lesson, not that i cared. i spent the rest of that class figuring out the kinks, like how many calories i'm allowed to eat per day.

i settled on 800.

it seemed like a decent number if i wanted to actually make an impact with weight loss.

stupid kale smoothies weren't gonna get me anywhere, nor idiotic influencer workout routines.

before i knew it, the bell rung and kids were hustling through the hallways. i was kind of on autopilot as i walked to lunch, not really watching where i was going. i'd by mistake shouldered some people, and they gave me dirty looks. i shot them right back.

i couldn't help but silently, in my mind, judge everyone's body that i saw. and not just their body, but other physical features, too. it was automatic, i didn't even mean to. but i couldn't help it.

she's really fat. the gym exists for a reason.

how is she so skinny? i know she's anorexic.

and it just went on and on.

i didn't know what was going on. why this mattered to me all of a sudden.

it was like i didn't notice these things before, i wasn't looking for them, but now that i knew they were there, i couldn't help it.

i couldn't help a lot of things.

when i walked into the lunchroom, i saw peter sitting by himself, writing on some piece of paper, and if i knew him, he wasn't doing the homework due tomorrow.

he was doing yesterday's.

it didn't seem like i'd be bothering him if i went to go talk to him, so that's what i did. i figured since we hadn't talked in while, it would be great to now.

and it'd be a great distraction, too.

i sat down across from him, "hi, peter."

he looked up slowly, a smile rising on his face. "uh, hey, y/n/n," peter paused, "what, um, what did you need?"

"huh? oh, i didn't need anything. just thought i'd come by and annoy the hell out of you."

"just like old times," peter snorted.

"math homework?"

"yep. i have math-"

"-next period," i realized my mistake after i made it. "um, 'cause i see you when i'm walking to class."

in repsonse, he nodded like he was considering it.

i didn't notice i was hungry until my stomach growled, but something inside of me made the thought of getting food and eating it repulsive. i hesitated before grabbing on of peter's fries and popping it in my mouth. he didn't say anything, or really even care, and i didn't know if i liked that or not.

"okay. you have chem next, yeah?"

i blushed at the fact he knew.

"uh, yep," i snagged some more fries, feeling myself loosen up.

and then i realized, that's what this was; i was just in need of some time with actual people who weren't my parents.

i liked this. i liked talking to peter. it was easy. this was easy.

we laughed about some other things, like flash's new donkey haircut.

and i stole more fries. ned, betty, and mj (who normally sat two seats away) came over. the topic of cupid's day came up.

"how many do you think you'll get?" betty asked.

i looked up, "roses?"

"uh-huh."

ned spoke up, "you won't need to worry, bet, i'll get you a whole bouquet." he looked proud of himself.

"i'm not worried," she giggled, like the lovesick fool she was. it was gross. and yes i admit, it was slightly because i was jealous, but whatever. betty didn't have to act so idiotic and desperate.

betty's skinny, too.

"what about you, y/n?" peter said, locking eyes with me.

"i dunno. i never really get any."

something changed in peter's expression, but as soon as it was there, it was gone.

i took another fry. they were really good, for some reason.

"fattie," peter laughed, pulling his lunch tray back, "and then you complain about not getting roses!"

that caused a round of laughs in the small group, but my heart dropped to my feet.

i was right. i was overweight. even peter noticed.

freaking peter noticed.

god, i was ugly and fat, and even peter saw that.

of course he liked liz. he'd be crazy not to. she was curvy and skinny and petite and pretty and skinny.

she was skinny.

i didn't have her hourglass figure.

never did i ever want out of my own skin more.

"y/n?" pete frowned. "i-i'm sorry, it was a joke, i didn't-"

"no, no, not that. i, uh, i... forgot i was supposed to meet with a teacher. sorry. i have to go."

i didn't go to any teachers.

i did go to the bathroom.

and i hid in the handicapped stall. i didn't cry, or sob, or weep or whatever it was stupid girls did in hallmark movies or stuff.

i stood in front of the mirror and picked out everything i hated, making a mental list in my head.

i didn't finish that list, not even after 30 minutes when the bell rung.

-

the rest of the day flew by rather quickly, it seemed. i felt like i was trapped in a warm haze, but not the fuzzy, happy warmth. i didn't like the way i was thinking. it's like i wanted my brain to turn off, these intruding, ugly thoughts were taking up too much room.

i felt icky.

when i got home, i didn't have my normal after-school snack like i usually did. i went straight upstairs and did homework.

i finished two essays (one that wasn't due until two weeks, and one that was due two days from now), my math homework and studied for my math test, started my science project, and did my french flashcards (and studied them a bit).

i must have been locked in my room for hours, because by the time i got up, it was dark outside.

i wasn't a studious person, and the only reason i did any of this was to forget for a little while. to snap out of it. and for a while, it worked.

"y/n, honey!" my mom screamed from downstairs, and as i glanced at the clock, i realized it was time to have dinner.

but i wasn't hungry.

well, i was.

let me rephrase that; i didn't want to eat.

however, i didn't want my mother yelling at me, so i went down anyways. not that i was planning to eat.

"mom?"

"oh, hey. i already set the table, you seemed like you were working hard and i didn't wanna bother you. dad's working late. go sit down-"

"not hungry."

she frowned. "well, you have to eat something."

"but i'm not hungry," i said, hating how sharply it came out.

my mom gave me warning look. "look, i've had a long day, so don't start with me."

"mommmm," i whined.

"sit."

so i did. i felt bad about bothering her.

i ate. small, tentative bites, forcing it all down. we didn't talk.

silently, i put my dish in the sink, before heading upstairs. the food sat at the bottom of my stomach, like a pile of heavy rocks. i wanted them out.

so i turned on the shower and locked the bathroom door, kneeling in front of the toilet. i pressed my fingers to the back of my throat and kept them there for a second. at first, all i got was bile.

but then i threw up.

-

peter and i started talking more again. i think he got in a fight with liz.

i asked him if they were dating, and he said no.

i think he started hanging out with me again because i got skinny. i know for a fact that i'm skinnier than liz. i weigh less then her now.

the numbers told me that.

but i didn't listen.

i didn't stop, and how could i? when i'd gotten this far?

-

we got in a fight. not the yelling kind, though. well, kind of. i yelled a bit.

i thought he was complimenting me. he said i looked skinny, so i thanked him.

"no... i-" he paused, trying to get his thoughts together, "you look skinny, yes, but not in a good way."

"what? what do you mean? like, there's only a good way," i laughed, slightly nervous.

peter ingnored that. "have you been eating enough, angel?" his voice was soft, but there was worry in it. why was he worried? this is the best i've ever been.

"do you ask liz that, too?"

"i- what?"

"liz is skinny. you don't ask her that."

"that- that is different. y-you haven't been eating, have you? is-"

"god, parker! stop! it's none of your business!" maybe if i hadn't been so flustered, i'd have come up with a better comeback.

-

i was hunched over the toilet, but nothing was coming out. everything hurt.

my head. my stomach.

my throat was scratchy and raw.

i didn't hear the knocking on the door.

i don't really remember peter coming in. i thought i locked it. what was he doing at my house? i couldn't remember.

i wanted to sleep.

i think i was crying. i don't know. i only vaguely remember the hot tears.

i slightly remember him pulling me away from the toilet and into his arms. there were lots of holes in my memory for that day.

he stayed with me, though. one thing i'm sure about is that peter never left my side. i can recall bright lights. tubes. i was laying on something. white walls. white sheets.

what was engraved into my head was peter whispering "i love you" over and over again. in the bathroom. in the car. was it a car? as they hooked me up to cables.

all that mattered, though, was that i was skinny now. just the thought made me feel light and airy.

to think that all it took was a little motivation and a weighing scale.

[skinscals]

I've struggled with binging my whole life. Now I've managed to lose almost 21lbs and more is coming off. I'd like to share some things I've used when I'm feeling like binging!

1. I WANT TO BINGE

It causes me legit anxiety when I get the urge to eat. Sometimes it's something specific, sometimes it can be moldy bread I have already. But if you feel like you want the food RN, think that you can always go and get it. Just, wait 10 minutes, if you really need it, it's okay, you can always go out and buy it. The food ain't gonna disappear anywhere. This mindset brings me kind of peace.

If you're feeling hungry but you've just eaten, drink water. Also remember to take your vitamins and supplements. If you have huge deficiency on those things your body may start sending hunger cues. If you lack vitamins, your body craves sugar etc.

2. I ALREADY STARTED BINGING

And you can stop it! You've already had a taste, right? You want to keep binging because you know how awesome it tastes. Brush your teeth and get the flavors out of your mouth! It helps! I use this all the time! I already started on my chocolate cake, I brush the taste off! It's the taste that keeps us wanting more!

3. I BINGED...

It feels like it's the end of the world... You hate yourself, so you decide that now on you start restricting even more, right? Please dont. Hold yourself accountable but do not punish yourself. If you binge, you probably have some mental issues you cope with food. Thinking about your binge too much creates panic and stress and self hatred, which causes you to binge again. Don't put any more mental load on yourself.

WHAT CAN I DO TO PREVENT THIS FROM HAPPENING?!

Take it from someone, who has struggled with this their whole life!

- Don't restrict too much. The cycle between binging and restricting will never end...

- When you eat, instead of focusing on how low cal it is, focus on will it make you full? If you eat 200 low cal stuff, and it won't make you full, you'll binge another 1000kcal in one sitting. Instead, focus on protein and nutrients and, Will this make me full? If it doesn't, they're stupid empty calories you ate for, uhm, for fun. If it does, you ate something to survive and keep your engine running. Be clever!

- If you use food as a coping mechanism or as a reward or anything, I feel you. This one's tricky, because coping mechanisms are important and you can't really take them away once they're learned. It's hard, and we may replace them with something more harmful and dangerous. Try things. Personally I find going on walks very effective. I listen Ed stuff or my favorite songs. If I feel very shitty, I may run until I can't breathe. And every time I feel better when I come home. I still use food sometimes, but now I have another option as well. Please, try things!

- if you crave something very specific let's say, chocolate, instead of forbidding it from yourself, buy a little bar of chocolate. Maybe even every day (count it's calories tho!) If you forbid something from yourself, you'll want it even more. And, guess what, binge on it. Which is better, one 200kcal bar of chocolate or 1200kcal chocolate bar? Between the two bad choices, pick the one that's less bad.

- Find replacement foods. If you crave chocolate for example, find something similar but healthier. I use protein bars. They're filling and chocolate! I won't be craving more after 1 or 2 and it's still better than eating the whole 1200kcal bar!

- Learn to love yourself now. Or even like. If that's too hard, please have even some respect for yourself. It's been studied that If you get negative encouragement, you'll probably fail but if you get positive encouragement you'll more likely succeed in what you're doing!

- Write your feelings and goals down somewhere and come back to them when you feel like binging!

- Remember that you're not perfect. If you have binging problem, you will binge in the future. But as you learn on the way, you'll binge less and less and one day you'll notice, that the last time you relapsed was 6 months ago. It's a journey as well. Learn from it.

If you have any questions, please feel free to ask anything! I hope these would help even one person. You got this.

Stay safe, love life and focus on your goals! 💕 You're amazing and you deserve to live happily!

[thegloomybat]

I need advice on what to about s⭐️ving with the meds i take.

Heyy. So continuing on my last post. I’m just in a bit of a pickle rn. So, i have rlly bad adhd, but i was never diagnosed somehow until last year, when i was EXTREMELY behind in school, i was not on track to graduate on time. I finally got diagnosed and prescribed adderall. But then i switch psychiatrists and he unprescribed it the first appointment bc he w31gh3d me and i was underw31ght :( he put me on wg meds and at the time i didn’t know :( so earlier this year i continued to be SUPER behind, when i was at a ‘healthy’ w8 (gross) he prescribed it back, and then unprescribed 2 times again for unrelated reasons😭well, i didn’t graduate in may like i was supposed to. It’s October, now i’m just trying to get my ged. I need adderall to do absolutely anything, but rn mainly for school. So i’ve been on it again for the past few months. I’ve been in a plateau with my w8. Earlier this year i started l0sing w8 again and he threatened to give me the wg meds again if i kept going down. I know he’ll take me off the adderall again if i go too low. Does anyone have advice on how to be heavier for a w31gh in😭he used to check me for anything in my pockets and hats, he hasn’t done this in a long time tho. But just in case? Especially if i start going down a lot again, he specializes in ED’s (very unfortunate, my mom made me go to him, i stay bc i need meds), he said that last year he would’ve hospitalized me if i got any lower. I CANNOTT let that happen, i would actually lose it. So there’s that. But my main point is, im wondering if anyone else takes adderall and has active 4n4? I wanna know your guyses experiences because one of the reasons i still eat more than i want to (less than or equal to 800) is because i also don’t want to get any alarming bad side effects bc its a stimulant. Like i’m not tryna have a heart attack or something 😭butttt i can’t stand looking like this anymore or not l0sing w8. Idk what to do. It helps me s⭐️ve/l0se my ap3tit3 which is good, but then i just eat up too many cals in one meal to compensate. I just don’t want to have a heart attack or something serious lol. The past few days i’ve been doing much better at being below 800, around 750-650. I’ve still been taking it. I eat a bigger meal in the morning before i take it. Around 300-400 cals. (It sounds like so much ): and then about 8-10 hours later i’ll eat again, something around or less than 200. About that. With the 750-650 intake, i’m finally going down again!! But, i just feel weird throughout the day when i take it. I get feelings of my heart dropping, or aching (i think it’s just anxiety tho) or my brain genuinely feels fuzzy its so weird. And like dizzy i guess. I wanna go lower on my cals intake but idk how low i should go while taking it. I just need to continue taking it tho, but i’m not tryna have like a life-threatening episode bc i’m not 34ting enough and taking a heavy stimulate (i take 20mg XR). At the same time, i used to take it last year when i was under w8 and i was fine-ish?? I only took 10mg tho. One time i took a 30mg IR and i was fine too?? I’m just lowkey traumatized cuz there HAS been times where i took it and had TERRIBLE reactions, like trembling so much, SO much trouble breathing, just this weird feeling and so much anxiety and panic it was so bad i thought that was it for me😭BUT whenever that happened, i 🤮 the night before. I just don’t want that or anything worse to happen even if i don’t 🤮 but just by s⭐️ving yk? Does anyone have the same experience or any advice or tips???

[breakfastteatime]

Today's Survivor request is "Fall" for @etoiline

It finds Cal in the quiet, in the stillness, in the emptiness, when sleep refuses him.

Darkness.

The fall. His fall. It happened so easily.

(No, it didn’t.)

He gave into the darkness without a fight.

(No, you didn’t.)

That rage. That power. He misses it.

(Do you?)

Sighing, Cal rolls out of bed and heads out into the Koboh night. BD doesn’t let him go alone. No one stops them – everyone’s used to Cal’s nighttime wanderings by now – but BD will never let him wander off alone. The Outpost is quieter by night, only the hardiest (or most destitute) prospectors heading out to work. He decides to head for the forest. The quiet trees and waterfalls usually soothe his whirring mind.

His feet take him across Swindlers Wash and into the forest, head buzzing with self-recriminations as he heads into the forest. He reaches the Basalt Rift, distracted by the guilty part of him that doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life in hiding, who loves the variety of Koboh and the wider galaxy…

He doesn’t hear the battle droid until it’s on him, and while he does take it down before it shoots him in the head, his balance is all off, and he tips backward, plummeting off a cliff and falling, down, down, down. The Force howls, and he flips in time to hit a pool of water feet first. Deep, deep under the water, it takes Cal’s scrambled head a few seconds to catch up. He kicks his way back to the surface, fighting the current. When he breaks through, he’s already a long way from the cliff he fell off.

“BD?!”

A slightly waterlogged warble comes from Cal’s back. A sob of relief escapes him, and he nods in agreement when BD tells him to find somewhere to climb out of the river as soon as he can.

By the time Cal’s on dry land again, he’s soaked but warm, the Koboh night far from cold. He’s unhurt, although his ego’s taken a good hit. Distracted. Reckless. When will he learn?

BD beeps for Cal’s attention. “I’m okay. Guess I need to find a better coping skill.”

Talking. He could try talking.

Cal reaches over, gives BD a head pat. “I know. I just don’t know where to start.”

BD does, because he knows Cal is a good person. How could he not be, when he’s still so torn up over everything that happened, including using the dark side. A bad person wouldn’t care like Cal does.

“Cere always told me every Jedi faces the dark side. It was stupid of me to think I wouldn’t, that I’d be too good for that.” Cal sighs, and not because he’s not entirely sure where he is and how long it will take to get back to the Outpost. “I’m going to carry it for the rest of my life.” Everyone has something to carry. He thought he was at his limit after Cere and Master Cordova died.

Turns out there’s more beneath rock bottom.

Hopping onto Cal’s head, flashlight shining, BD suggests that if Cal wants to use up all his energy on worrying about it, maybe next time he could do it in the garden, instead of taking a dive off a cliff?

Cal chuckles. “I’m happy to skip the cliff diving.” He glances up, gauges the distance. “Can’t believe I didn’t break anything. Maybe we don’t tell anyone about this?”

BD is noncommittal. He needs blackmail material.

“I don’t have to give you oil baths.”

Cal’s secret is safe with BD.

By the time they return to the Outpost, dawn is breaking and Greez waits for them outside Pyloon’s with a hot cup of caf and the medkit. He hands over the caf, gives Cal a good looking over, then nods, taking the unopened medkit inside with them.

“You figure out what you needed to figure out?” Greez asks as they walk into the bar.

“Kinda?”

“Try to sound a little less uncertain.”

“Maybe.”

“Oh, awe-inspiring, kid. Anyway, there’s some weeds in the garden and Pili wants your help with them. Says you’re the best one to deal with the Spikers.”

“Spikers, you got it.”

“Right, right, and by the time you’re done with the weeding, it’ll probably be time to take a nap.”

Cal smiles. “I’ll give it a go.”

[lunarw0rks]

Old Bones | Chapter Ten

Summary: After fleeing a toxic relationship, you fear for your safety and hire a bodyguard. He's masked, impassible, and damn good at what he does.

Warning(s): referenced abusive relationship, PTSD/trauma themes, alcohol use, mild language, very mild suggestive content

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: not proofread, enjoy your dinner y'all <3

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Breathless

“You have any idea what this is about?” Simon shifts the gear into the park, looking over at you with furrowed brows.

The truth was, you had no idea. All you knew was the police found Cal’s body, and you were asked to come here. Nothing more than that.

Simon didn’t take much pleasure in the summon slipped into your mail slot, either. Driving several hours at the crack of dawn to make it to the legal office on time, which of course you’d insisted wasn’t necessary.

You shook your head, giving a sigh of contempt. “No, I don’t.”

He didn’t have to give you the lecture, to not mention his involvement, to go along with whatever bogus story the detectives had come up with. It only took them a day to find him, and then within eighteen hours, you’re here—standing outside a corporate building with legal documents in your hand.

One minute, you broke down in front of Simon, spewing about how much you hated him, and then the next, you’re back in his truck for several hours at a time, all before the sun even rose completely.

No sleep, just nail-biting tension in the hours leading up to this moment. Not to mention, how bumpy things had gotten between you two since his death.

This meeting could be very good, or very bad, and you weren’t so sure you knew the difference between the two anymore. Perhaps Cal, even in death, organized a legal loophole for you to deal with after his death—nothing would shock you anymore, especially involving him.

The tall building was eerily similar to the office where it all went down; corporate chic and bland, only instead of being abandoned, it was bustling with suits and blazers. Lawyers and clients, detectives, mind-numbing coffee conversation bounced off the navy blue walls.

You’d never felt more out of place, despite wearing the most business-casual outfit you could find in your limited wardrobe. Outdressed and outnumbered; never a good combination, especially for someone with a mountain of secrets.

If they knew about Simon or all the carnage, you would’ve been in cuffs and read your Miranda rights, surely. However, no amount of logic could sway the nausea simmering in your gut.

The first person you see inside; a bubbly receptionist way too happy to be working there, especially in contrast to all the hardened corporate faces her co-workers maintained. “How can I help you?”

That beam on her face drops slightly when her eyes wander to your neckline, the half-healed bruises still visible on your skin, then the small cuts on your face you had no desire to cover. She nods to herself as if when seeing those marks, she knew who you were without asking for your name.

“You’ll be on floor twenty, room 3B.” She fishes through her drawers and then pulls out a slip of paper for you—your pass to the upper floors. Well, in examining the document, she guessed correctly when she saw your scars—it was indeed your information on the sheet.

With each ding of the elevator, you watched the small screen displaying each floor number as it increased. Finally, it reached twenty, then the doors whirred open.

It was louder up here than before, several offices and cubicles with appointments of legal counsel proceeding as you stepped out. Your feet carried you to section B, and then you followed the labels until you reached the room with 3B displayed on its metal plaque.

There were no viewing windows, leaving you no clue about the meeting you were walking into. It could be a group of lawyers, or even detectives, for all you knew.

With a few knocks and a small muffled voice behind the door, you open it. At the crowded desk sits a lawyer about your age, deep in concentration as she scribbles. Compared to the suits downstairs, she’s dressed much more vibrantly.

“You must be…” She raises her eyes, giving the same look as the receptionist when she saw your marks. You slide the paper across her desk, ignoring the feelings of humiliation plaguing you. Her freshly done nails fumble with the edge of the paper, reading your name, though she clearly had no need to verify.

“Is anyone going to tell me why I’m here?” You mutter with impatience, digging your fingertips into the strap of your bag.

“You might want to sit down first, as a precaution.” Her tone is light, but firm, like she’s been through this a hundred times with her clients. Your snappiness didn’t phase her a bit.

Now, the nerves had nearly become too much. The atmosphere of the place was bad enough, how cagey the paperwork was, and now, sitting down across from a lawyer.

She draws a line with her fingers, from the name on your sheet, to her stack of folders, until she finds your file. The flimsy cardstock cover wooshes as she opens it, then pulls out a muted green slip. When giving it your first glance, it takes a few moments before you figure out what it is—a check.

All of Cal’s assets are addressed to you.

Next, she lays out a few real estate sheets—estimates on his home, adding a small fortune to the number on the check.

“I’m sure it’s a shock.” To you, her voice is muffled as if it's coming through a wall, and there’s a loud ring filling your ears. Then, it was her rambling about legalities, his death, and your rights, all of which went right through you without a second of thought.

It was tunnel vision, blurring around the edges. From anxiety consuming you one second, to now a wave of awe. You peered down at the number stamped on there, how it must be a typo. More than enough to keep you comfortable, but not enough to run free forever. Still, it had to be wrong, right? After such a series of bad luck, things like this didn’t happen to you, right?

“Miss?” Her hand reaches across the desk, pushing the check further to you, brows knitted in concern.

You shake your head, eyes dry from your unblinking stare of revelation. “I don’t understand. This is all mine? But, Cal sued me, and I… I left him.”

“You left him because you feared for your safety, am I right?” She points a brief finger at your neck, the cruel reminder those marks still give you daily, even here. “You were still legally married, this money’s yours, ma’am.” She says it with a smile of pity, brows still contorted slightly.

You palm the glass table, holding the flimsy slip in your hands now as if touching it would make you actually believe her.

Her words wait until you’ve made eye contact again. “In the eyes of the law, you’re entitled to his assets, even after death. He didn’t have any arrangements in place, and you were merely the first one listed.” She skims through your folder once more, sliding some legal paperwork your way, along with a pen.

“Keep it, spend it, donate it, burn it. It’s up to you.”

—

The second you buckled yourself in, Simon pulled out of the spot and drove in silence, only giving brief scans your way throughout. His iron grip on the steering wheel was typical, but the staring was not, at least not when driving.

You hadn’t come out in handcuffs, or with a police escort home, so things couldn’t have gone terribly wrong—at least by his standards. But you were quiet and more distant than usual.

“Mind tellin’ me what that was about?” He stops at a light, only flicking his gaze to traffic every few seconds. Without the distraction of the traffic, playing cold shoulder with him was much more difficult.

You scoff at the question, not at him, then speak with cynical sharpness. “Well, my husband’s dead.”

Your joke did little to lighten the mood, only prompting him to shift his hips in the seat awkwardly, then stare harder. “Robbery gone wrong, I guess. Found on the sidewalk in front of his apartment, pockets empty, too.” The words are coated with irony, and you can only wonder how Simon managed to stage the scene so well—though, that was one thing you truly didn’t want to be privy to.

“Hm.” He nods, foot laying on the gas the second the light turns green.

For someone so good at hiding his feelings, he did little of it now. He was acting stiff and thorny, unlike his usual self entirely.

The ride goes silent again; past the cityscape, past the backroads and highways, even when the next town was several miles away. Currently, it was a dirt road stretching straight for eternity, and there were very few other cars. Until you looked at the small screen on his dash, you hadn’t realized just how long things had gone quiet between you two—clearly, it was so long that you would be home again in an hour.

“It was a check. His assets.” You finally speak, parting the tension between the two of you. For once, it wasn’t a disgruntled tension, only a hesitant, wordless one.

For several seconds, the gravel crunching under the tires fills your ears. Then, Simon turns his head for the first time in hours, cocking it, “enough to get you out of here for good?”

“What? Are you eager to get rid of me?” You cocked a brow. It was as if so much tragedy, so much of it had caused your snarkiness to come out. Of course, directed at the most humorless man on the planet, nonetheless.

He snarled under his breath and shook his head, disgruntled at how he set himself up for that one. If only he had the power of words on his side, he would say so much at once—and probably too much. It was a blessing and a curse at the moment, considering the setting, everything in the past, and the building of the future as his tires covered the miles back home.

All interactions hushed again, as the mind-numbing ride resumed.

The miles on each sign you passed decreased, soon becoming single digits instead of doubles. Now, with all these assets in your possession, and a home to sell, it seemed your options were both limitless and petrifying.

Would it be smarter to find a more upscale apartment, to stay in the city you still know?

Should you return to the home where it all began, and risk more harm to your fresh wounds?

Or, perhaps, you could take a page out of Simon’s book; live a life of misery, tormented by your own thoughts, only making it to the next day with a bottle to tie you over.

—

One thing you knew, or really, the only thing you knew was how much thinking you had to do. Just what you needed after going to hell and back—more time alone with your thoughts. But you weren’t truly alone, because Simon hadn’t left your side. Not since the night you told him to stay, not since you broke down in front of him.

“You gonna stop stirrin’ that thing?”

His monotone voice snapped you out of it, gazing down at your hand, aggressively stirring the drink in your hands; the way the metal scraped against the porcelain mug was like nails on a chalkboard. Somehow, you hadn’t noticed it when you were stuck in your mind.

You took the spoon out, no longer wanting the drink you made a point of grabbing when you arrived back home. You slid the mug across the table, the steaming cup of caffeine now in front of his spot. But he didn’t touch it, only gave it a small deprecating look—no different than his usual attitude.

In truth, it was the paperwork and the check on the surface that you were staring at, trying to make a mental decision without the pressure of actually rereading those numbers. 

Some people would be ecstatic, with so much money at their disposal. But it wasn’t like that, not a lottery win, it was only more pressure.

What you were supposed to do—that was literally still on the table, just like the reason he was still here—unbeknownst to you. It’s not like you were going to ask Simon, that would only complicate things further. Besides, even you knew deep down you weren’t in any state to be left alone. Perhaps the graceless feelings and tension would be just a little less if your company was anyone else.

There was no one else, though.

“You’re starin’ again.”

Your head shakes away the trance again, seeing his head cocked with confusion, still the steaming cup is untouched. “Was I?”

“Sorry, I’m just—” You draw in a quick breath, lungs, and body both unsteady from the crushing weight of the meeting this morning. Just how everything worked out this way, it had to be a miracle. Perhaps, fate, even.

“I know.”

The fabric around his eyes wrinkles slightly, as do his eyes when they squint. At first glance, he looks displeased. But they have that softness to them again, like the night he saw those photos, and most like the night on the rooftop—when things between you were still fresh and untouched.

You didn’t need to finish your sentence. His gift was observance, noticing each small cue and quirk, and it seemed he was miles ahead of you before your lips could draw a response. Still, he stayed; enraged, distraught, grieving, screaming, even through your fugue state of speechlessness.

Your fingers combed through your locks, riddled with small cuts and mended scars, a tense grip causing white knuckles and a searing scalp. By now, your forehead had met the table, almost in a dramatic way, “you don’t need to stay with me, pity me. I’m an adult.”

“I see that.” He says and would chuckle at the sight of your grump if the circumstances weren’t so serious.

“And I’m not pitying you. I would never do that.” His last sentence wasn’t one of empathy, it was reality. Support, protection? All potent qualities of his. Pity, charity? None, whatsoever. One sure thing about him, he wasn’t going to pretend to be something he’s not.

You propped your face up with your elbow resting on the table, and a fatigued cheek smushed against your palm. Why was he still here? “Good. I don’t need it.”

“You need something, or you’re gonna put a hole in that shotty drywall,” he began, rising to his feet with a small grunt, “am I correct?” It wasn’t a question, just like his first sentence was an experienced observation—one he had seen within himself many times.

There is a clinking of glass, and then a scape against the table, before the bottle hits your arm, halting the force of its smooth slide across the wooden table. You give a disgusted look, but it was true, you needed something.

“Whiskey isn’t the solution… But I’m going to drink it.” You twist off the metal cap, smacking it onto the table with the whole force of your troubling convictions. It had been months since you had a drink, let alone straight from a bottle.

Perhaps, it was Simon’s only way of bonding without verging on feelings territory—a line neither of you needed to cross again.

You toss back a quick sip, sliding the bottle back to him. The burn of it coats your throat, down your esophagus, and through your stomach, sticking there as it simmered. It made your face contort, but the smoothness of the amber liquid was easily addictive.

Simon lifts his shirt and wipes the tip off the bottle, ridding it of your careless salvia, before turning away to take a small sip of it, an arm raised to lift a small bit of his mask. When he turns again, it slides back your way once more.

You agreed to a shot, not a drunken seesaw with him.

But here you were, taking another sip of it. This time, the wrinkle of disgust was a little less strong, and the potent taste of it had dulled when your taste buds numb to it.

Your nerves did diminish a bit, the longer the alcohol sat with you. “Well, you were onto something, I’ll give credit where it's due.”

“Don’t need credit.” He lets out a loud sigh, despite his tolerance to the substance.

You scoffed at his answer, coating your tongue with a bigger chug this time. Might as well, right? “Do you have an off switch, or are you always a wet blanket?”

To your surprise, it’s not a defensive comment or a snarl coming from his clothed lips. Instead, he chuckles—genuinely, void of his usual sarcasm—well, half of it, at least.

“Good one, I’ll remember that.” You had no doubts about that statement, and it would probably come to bite you in the ass later, much like every other thing you’ve said.

“At least when you’re buzzed you have a sense of humor.” Through the fabric of his mask, there is a smug brow cocked.

For the first time, bouncing off the other didn’t mean a conflict of half-empty comforts, it was a wholehearted conversation. A human one; a small aspect of life you had been missing so dearly, but without noticing the need for it.

A hand rested on his clothes thigh, legs spread wide in the dining chair as you both returned the bottle once you were done. Each time, he repeats his routine of turning away to take a sip—a habit that surprised you very little, in actuality, not at all. His privacy was one thing he never lost, despite all that you had been through at his side.

The stoic man with a mask treated you more authentically, more humanlike, than the one with no crooked teeth and a thousand material things to buy you.

The wounding irony of it made you nauseous, made you want to pound your fists into concrete.

This drinking game persisted for several minutes, and neither of you showed any intention of pacing yourselves. Simon, of course, was relatively unfazed by the substance, only speaking a little sluggish and reeking of it from across the table. You had gone off the deep end, with little restraint in holding yourself back. You had nothing binding you to sobriety, no job or husband, no worry of how to pay your rent—most significantly, your own personal guard was right here, with no sign of leaving.

There was only a shot left, more or less, when you slid the bottle back to him for the last time. He raised it, finishing it off until it was nothing more than a hollow glass vase.

“I’m… gonna get you a tea. This is my fault.” He muttered, a slightly widened look when he saw your current state.

You weren’t babbling like an idiot, or slurring like a drunken nuisance—your face was in your hands, a somber expression written on your face as you whispered to yourself, depressing phrases he couldn’t quite pick up on.

He hadn’t anticipated drunken clarity paired with depressed thoughts. What he wanted was less tension in your shoulders, an ease in your troubles, not the urge to find the roof and jump off.

On the bright side, for Simon at least? You hadn’t spewed yet, you were too occupied clawing at your insides for that.

“I’ll get it.” You snapped at him, legs moving a little slower than usual. But you had made it to the counter regardless, a hovering, offended hand shoving him out of the way. You swirled your finger, groaning under your breath when you had to find the effort to grab the items needed.

Simon placed a hand on his hip, leaning against the counter as he watched your odd mannerisms. Eyes reddened, hands twitching as you clumsily began boiling the water. To be frank, he was baffled that you could read the knobs on the stove.

You did it, eyes half open as you impatiently waited for the audible bubbling, and soon the loud whistle of the kettle to give you a migraine, surely. “You have a scar on your neck. Hm.” You pointed to it, but didn’t touch it—you weren’t that foolish, and you still had a desire to have your hands tomorrow.

He nodded and rubbed his thumb against it; the scar that showed when he wore t-shirts, stretching from his collarbone all the way to his chin, a once nasty laceration he got during knife combat, several years ago.

You truly hadn’t noticed it before, at least in its full magnitude.

There was a story there, one you didn’t want to know about. In truth, you only commented on it to pass the waiting time, not because your clouded mind told you to.

His fingers found the bottom of his mask, lifting it until the fabric rolled up to his bottom lip, the rest of his face still hidden. “See? A nasty bastard when it was fresh.” He figured, what the hell; you were in no position to hold this against him tomorrow.

You tilted your head, seeing that it deepend in the middle like that was the part the blade went deepest, then tapered off into a light indent when the slice finished. It wasn’t red or brown, it was scarred enough to match his pale flesh.

“Can I?”

No, you could not.

Nonetheless, he did nothing to stop the hand from reaching out to feel the mark. He wanted to close his eyes when he felt his muscles tense, how gently your fingers traced the scar. But they remained open, watching for any jerks in your movement—he couldn’t help it, his defensive instincts on high alert.

Your touch wasn’t predatory, nor invasive, despite his inner voice screaming at him to clench around your wrist, to squeeze it tight until you never did this again.

That self-protective part of him, he could contain, because it was foolish.

He couldn’t contain the way this made him feel, for the same reason, because it was foolish.

You could feel the tenseness of his shoulders, the small inhale when the pads of your fingers made contact with his neck, and most of all when they landed near his lips.

“Sorry.” You removed the hand, putting it back on your side.

But, he wasn’t irked, that much you could tell. In actuality, it was all you could pay attention to currently—him.

“Your water’s boiling.” The kettle hissed not a second after his words finished, forcing your attention to the stove. You found the knob and twisted it off, cutting the heat before your jumpiness caused a nasty scar of your own.

To reach the cleanest mug, you reached past him, head almost in the crook of his elbow. His height was an advantage, nearly an archway for you where the space of his arm opened enough for you. You grabbed it with haste, fighting every urge to run out of the room and bellow into the nearest cushion.

Waiting for the tea to turn was yet another opportunity for deafening silence. You set the mug aside after placing the bag of tea leaves in. For the liquid to have any effect, you needed it strong, so you were smacked in the face with another several minutes of staring.

It didn’t have to be like this, but it was, whether you were sober or inebriated did nothing to change that.

You had leaned down over the counter, face in your hands with regret. “I didn’t mean to push you. So you know, Simon.” You murmured against the wood countertop, left with little urge to lift your head and face him again.

What was once boldness and depressing clarity, was now pity on yourself and your actions—the one thing you so vehemently didn’t want from him.

“You’re…” He trailed off, lips tightening under his mask. “It’s nothing, ‘s alright.” It pained him to explain what had happened away, because it wasn’t nothing, to him. He still felt he needed permission from some unknown force to feel these basic things—attachment and touch.

“It’s not nothing.” You finally lift your head, picking up the steaming mug that wasn’t done yet. Your brows had contorted, and the reddened eyes had turned glossy. “I shouldn’t have pried like that. I’m sorry.”

Your past was talking for you, that dooming feeling of punishment for slipping up, for committing the crime of being yourself. Once met with a blow or insult, now met with a gentle touch to your shoulder, urging you to set down the cup.

“Let’s drop it, alright? I said it was nothing.” His tone was firm, but he wasn’t upset. His hand hovered again when you only gripped the porcelain mug tighter, looking into his eyes for proof of sincerity. 

Simon felt he couldn’t be any more sincere than he was right now, in his own way. “How about you sit down somewhere… Please?” As much as he wanted to remain firm, he couldn’t. It wasn’t your fault for dipping into old habits out of distress, as much as it wasn’t his.

“I don’t want to sit.” You wanted to step back from him, distance your body from the potential harm of another brooding man, though he didn’t have an ounce of that in him—for you, at least. “This is what I didn’t want, for you to be upset with me.”

Your fretting look made his body ache, how convinced you were of repercussions coming your way in the form of his own two fists.

“Do I look upset with you?” He questioned rhetorically, reaching for the mug again. “Just… Find somewhere to sit this out, before someone gets hurt.” It came out worse than he wanted it to, wide open to your wounded analysis.

Once a worried expression, had dropped into a compliant look, the pound of your heart overtook any urge to retort or argue. That wasn’t how he meant it, it couldn’t be. If you weren’t inebriated, could you have believed that?

You turned on your heels, eyes darting toward the dining table feet away, white-knuckling the mug of tea to soothe this all-too-familiar feeling stabbing you.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says from behind you, now a concerned looming figure, “if you want to stand, you can stand. If you want to talk, then talk.” He placed a hand on your tensed shoulder, but it barely made contact, in dread that his touch would make matters worse.

A stray tear floated from your eye down your cheek, and you wiped it quickly before turning around, finding him close and hovering. “This is pathetic, isn’t it?” You chuckled snidely at your own pain, but there was little humor he could find in your own struggles.

“Crying in front of you again, seems to be a pattern when we’re together.” You sniffled, thumb finding the corner of your eye to smear away more tears.

His hand lifted off, but remained outstretched in a tense fashion like the appendage itself was unsure of the next step. “Drink your tea, and… relax.” Even his voice hesitated, a worrying stare on the shaking mug, daring to spill from your unpredictable hold.

You couldn’t bring yourself to drink it, not right now. Not when he was in this position again, just like when he had hovered over you after the argument, or when he pulled your head into his chest. Your focus was limited right now, as was your ability to regulate your being. The tender look in his eyes wasn’t helping, nor were his exposed lips, chapped and tension-filled.

“I’m so sorry, Simon.” You let out a sharp breath. “This isn’t your burden.” Your words mirrored that of the night you sobbed in his chest, before the meeting you had this morning set off this domino effect of emotions, landing you here.

It seemed he had forgotten his mouth was exposed because you could see the frown on his face. You shouldn’t be the one giving the apology, the only one that should be was in a morgue, unclaimed but still mourned by the woman in front of him.

One of his hands found the side of your cheek, resting a light palm on it for you to nuzzle. The other reached for the mug, the sheer size of his hand overtaking yours in an instant. He was supposed to take it from you, to help you find a comfortable seat, hell, to tuck you in for the night. But he didn’t. He had only restricted you, your cries like a knife in his side, twisting with each one.

Instead, he had leaned down, finding his chin on your shoulder for a few seconds, then your faces were inches apart, both sets of eyes squinting from their own troubles. Then, they met each other, heavy breathing escaping each of you as the other mouth stifled any rejections.

The trend of letting you cry it out prevailed, but it was different this time. So different, his fingers were clammy and his stomach turned. It was wrong, so wrong he would bludgend himself if he could.

The mug he was holding had slipped, sending it shattering to the ground. You jerked in his grip, eyes wandering to the tea spilled on the ground, but the firm hold he now hand on either side of your face prevented a recoil. The most agonizing part of it for you wasn’t the kiss you didn’t want, it was how you wanted this act of intimacy.

His mouth was agape now, hot breath against your chin, his own saliva dribbling down your chin, and you didn’t want to go anywhere. The act resumed again, this time with more force, your back finding the counter with some force, fingertips digging into your cheeks ever so slightly.

It didn’t hurt, it only urged you further into this.

The kiss wasn’t a placeholder for deeper intimacy, he meant every bit of it—up until his emotional walls rebuilt themselves. What the hell was he doing? Right here, right now, of all places?

From each side of your face, his hands now found your arms, yanking you away from this. “No.” Simon hissed, nails digging into your flesh to keep you from returning it anymore.

You couldn’t figure out which party those words were meant for—a scold for himself, for initiating this kiss, or you, for being vulnerable enough to kiss him back.

Still, your eyes were glossed and pouring, and even more now that the entire relationship would be altered permanently from here on. Maybe it was your fault, you thought, using physical intimacy to make up for spats, yet another habit Cal had embedded in you.

Simon wanted to apologize, so badly. But he couldn’t, no matter how shameful his gaze was now. His fingers found the rolled-up fabric of his mask, yanking it downward until his mouth was concealed again.

He couldn’t find those two words—the ones you had just said to him before the kiss. Instead, he dropped to his knees in front of you, fingers finding the shards on the tile and scooping them up without care for his skin, despite how deeply they pinched it.

Your thumb found your saturated lips, wiping away the evidence.

“I’m… going to bed.” You murmured, more to yourself than him. The smell of alcohol on your breath only acted as a reminder, as would the hangover tomorrow morning. With hesitance, you whipped around his kneeled position and exited the kitchen, eyes still wide with shock. Your stumbling feet carried you all the way to bed, a slow crawl until you could cover yourself completely with the duvet, like a cocoon of denial.

When forced into solitude with your racing thoughts, there was one dim light at the end of this tunnel.

You came to a decision about those papers, one that would land you far away from this chaos.

TAGLIST: @random-thot-generator @littleobsessionsandlifeslessons @illyanam1011 @stunkbiggu @bi-witch-bxtch @warm-milk-with-honey @xheera @kiamewrites @01trickster10 @m0chac0ffee @tizylish @midwesternwitchery @ramadiiiisme

[etoiline]

I complained about not having written much in the last two weeks and @voidcat-senket prompted me to write something short with "kiss" and "bad luck draw" to try to get the writing muscles active again, so here you go. A silly little spyscrapper card game goes poorly—or perfectly, depending on your perspective.

Greez throws down his cards onto the table in the lounge of the Mantis, his other two hands flying over his head. “I can’t believe I lost! To both of you!” He says, looking between Bode and Cal. “I taught you the karking game!”

Cal smiles, leaning back in the chair he borrowed from the galley, trying to keep his giddiness from his face. He’s never even come close to beating Greez before, much less staying in the game long enough to have Bode as his final opponent.

Greez shakes his head and slides off the couch. “You’ve even cleaned me out of chores to do, so I guess I better quit while I’m behind. I’m off to check those sensor readings and then bed. Don’t stay up too late, don’t bargain away all your ponchos or anything,” he says, making his way into the cockpit and sending the door closed behind him.

Cal, having followed Greez’s walk, turns back to Bode, who’s smirking at him. “Care to concede while you still have hope?” the merc says, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll never give in to you,” Cal says, lifting his chin, laying his cards facedown on the table. He doesn’t have a bad hand, all things considering, and it might even be a winning one if the next hand goes his way, which would be the first time that had ever happened.

“Ah, hubris, is it?” Bode says, pulling another card from the deck. He doesn’t even bother to hide his smile at whatever combination he has now, and Cal narrows his eyes at the man before taking a card of his own.

He knows as he’s raking his hand through his hair that he’s just revealed something to Bode when the merc smiles at him. The cards in his hands aren’t much better now, but he could still win.

“Let’s see ‘em, scrapper,” Bode says, and lays out his cards.

Cal blows out a breath and shows his hand.

Bode stares at the cards and laughs. “Looks like that mythical Force is looking out for you, Cal. A tie! But who’s gonna clean the water reclaimer if we don’t have a winner?”

“Guess we’ll just have to see who pulls the highest card next, then,” Cal says. He rocks his chair upright and pushes out of it, taking the spot on the couch Greez had vacated. Bode bounces as the cushions move with Cal’s weight, and the big man smiles. He leans forward and takes his card.

Cal slides the next card off the deck, and he keeps his eyes locked on Bode’s while they both turn the cards face up. The challenge makes Bode’s eyes darker, and Cal can’t tear his gaze away. The Mantis is very quiet as they stare at each other, the silence only broken by Bode tapping his fingers atop his card.

“May the Force be with you,” Cal says, and flips his card.

The stare doesn’t break until a few seconds after they’ve both turned over their cards, not until Bode gives Cal a smile that bares one canine, and Cal has to look down to hide his rising blush at the way that look makes him feel some kind of way.

It’s then Cal sees he has the high card, and Bode exhales a gusty puff of air. “You know, I really hate cleaning that reclaimer,” Bode says, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head.

An idea forms and Cal can’t believe his boldness but he knows he needs to speak it before he loses his nerve from the high of winning. “What if I asked for a kiss in lieu of that chore?” he says, and scoots closer. Hoping.

Bode’s hand is warm when it settles on his, having forgone his gloves for better card handling, or so he said earlier. The big man leans toward Cal and grins. “I think I’d give it, if you asked. The Force was clearly not with me for this draw, so I gotta get my luck back somehow,” he says, and Cal’s gaze is stuck on Bode’s lips.

“Consider me asking,” Cal says, and leans in until they’re practically breathing the same air.

Suddenly there’s a hand in his hair and Bode’s mouth on his, and Cal’s never felt luckier. Sure, there’s reclaimer duty in his future, but the Force has given him something he can’t wait to have more of in exchange.

[scarletlilyy]

Topic of Today: Pretentious feminism online and the slow development into internalized misogyny.

Popular terms/ideologies in Girl world I feel contributes to this!

1. Girl dinner

2. “I'm just a girl”

3. Girl Math

4. Pick me

5. Girls Girl

1. Girl Dinner: As defined by urban dictionary GIRL DINNER is a tik tok trend where girls eat random food which is comforting and or is a childhood food. Basically a combo of some random foods. Like every other trend it started off pretty innocent until it was repackaged as a means of promoting eating disorders. Extremely low cal food that lacks every bit of nutrition is romanticized with a cute pink bow.

2. "I'm just a girl": The phrase “I'm just a girl” was kind of a spin to “let boys be boys”, something we've all commonly heard in the past when a young man does something stupid but is still excused for it. I watched this video essay by Alisha not Alisha and in the comments someone quotes "You're not "healing your inner child" - you're regressing into ignorance.” and that's exactly how I feel about this trend.

"I'm just a girl" should be a fun quote to piss off men who hate traditionally feminine things, not a hoax to justify your shitty behaviour.

3. Girl Math: The third one has to be my least favorite, especially as someone who loves math. It just reinforces the whole dumb blonde ideology, infantilizes women and justifies bad financial decisions/overconsumption. The whole overconsumption issue is probably one of women's bigger issues. Like I saw multiple videos of where girls tried to use girl math to justify the ridiculous amounts they spend MONTHLY on clothes.

Yeah, let's not....

Trends like these easily turn into a marketing ploy for brands and we just end up spending money on useless shit cus the caught ur short ass attention span lmao.

4. Pick me: I feel like the term pick me became popular around the pandemic (I might just be too young lmao), so I'm just gonna start around there. At first it was to actually call out women who were in fact pick mes. A pick me is a girl who brings down other girls for male validation btw.

It's as simple as that.

It's not a girl who has different interests from other girls and a lot of people have failed to understand that. The entire point is not that pick me's have different interests from other girls, it's that they weaponize their "different" interests to gain attention from the opposite gender. So no, a girl who isn't so feminine or doesn't practice stereotypical feminine things isn't a pick me, neither is she trying to be "different".

The word has been really thrown around and 60% of the time it's just cus the accuser doesn't like the accused.

5. Girls Girl: A girls girl is the opposite of a pick me, a girl who supports other girls. But guess what my support is very much conditional!

Girls are humans.

Humans suck, they are capable of being bad ppl and making bad decisions. Aside from the basic support like providing menstrual products when In need or defending each other from misogyny, my support is conditional. That was originally the intention of the whole girls girl thing, understanding female struggles and supporting each other in those aspects.

Not dick riding each other and giving our unconditional love to people who don't deserve it. It has turned into a thing where women are immune to criticism from other women. And anytime a woman calls out another woman for something genuinely bad they aren't a “girls girl” or they are “hating like a man” .

Women, just like men aren't immune to criticism.

Overall, all these trends always start with the innocent intentions of enabling women to enjoy themselves. They slowly develop into toxic trends that do absolutely nothing for the feminists movement and allow for internalized misogyny. Trends like this will forever pop up, let us be careful with the media we consume. I'm talking about it because I've seen it in real life and it affects how women and especially young girls coexist with one another.

That's it,

Au Revoir.

[teecupangel]

Catboy nonny again, just throwing some sh*t around, what if Desmond survives the Eye but it turns him into catboy and now modern assasssins have to deal with it?

William Miles would be looking for a cure while asking Desmond to take a break. Shaun and Rebecca gets roped into keeping Desmond safe.

Desmond loses the ability to speak (other than meow) but he has a phone with a text to speech app so it’s not all that bad.

A month in his break, Bill tells him that he needs to do missions once more and Desmond just shrugged.

It’s not surprising and they do have a lot of things to do, especially about Abstergo.

Rebecca and Shaun are worried though but Desmond just waves their worry off.

In other words…

Other than the fact that he now has cat ears and a cat tail…

Desmond will just do what he needs to do as an Assassin in the modern day.

.

Unorganized Notes:

Only Bill, Rebecca, Shaun and the crew of Altaïr II knows that he’s turned into a catboy. Everyone else are told that Desmond Miles lost the ability to speak after turning the device to save the world.

This is a catboy setup where Desmond doesn’t have an owner. He’s actually more like a stray cat in this one with Rebecca and Shaun acting more like that nice couple that leaves food for the stray that sometimes visit their balcony. (Metaphorically)

Catnip works with Desmond and they found that out when Rebecca jokingly bought one during a grocery run. It gives him the zoomies but he also acts on instinct and ‘instinct’ for Desmond means taking down everything that he sees as a threat… which is like almost everyone.

Cats don’t like Desmond and he automatically hisses whenever a cat hisses at him. Kittens though make him want to groom them and pet them and “Put down that box, Desmond! Those kittens belong to the woman upstairs!”

He saves the prisoners in the Madrid facility around the time Cal starts seeing Aguilar as part of his Bleeding Effect. He actually calls Desmond “Ezio?” when they first met and Desmond just went “meow?”. It took a few people telling Cal that, no, he wasn’t hallucinating, Desmond did meow at him.

This leads to the people who were meant to die during the rebellion inside the facility live and they sorta got adopted into Desmond’s team while the others who were suffering from the Bleeding Effect severely were sent to a different facility where they could hopefully recover.

This does mean that Lina and Emir sometimes slip and call Desmond “Ezio”. Cal does it too at times but they mostly just commiserate as two ‘normal’ runaway dudes that got roped back into the Brotherhood because the Templars were jerks.

At that point, Shaun just says “Oh, I guess we’re now Desmond’s clowder, huh?” and everyone just goes “???” because none of them knew that a group of cats is called a clowder.

They managed to save Elijah before her mother gets killed and they take them in to protect them. Desmond and Elijah’s mother are sorta awkward with one another but there’s no hard feelings because it was a one night stand and it was her choice to not tell Desmond. Desmond understands it and was okay with it because, even if he wasn’t in his son’s life all these years, he was able to be have a normal peaceful life.

He does purr a lot and grooms Elijah whenever he’s close though. It’s awkward as hell but they’re trying to make up for lost time… with Desmond being a catboy and Elijah not telling anyone about his strange dreams and the arrogant man who whispers to him.

[cesiousblue]

Hey I really hate to ask for help, but if you have anything to spare I would really appreciate the help. It's been catastrophe after catastrophe lately and me and my family are having a rough time. (Further explanation at the end of the post)

If you can't help, please reblog!

My ko-fi is at https://ko-fi.com/cesiousblue and I also have pay-what-you want phone backgrounds/a fun art practice guide, and commissions starting at 15 bucks.

Further explanation of the situation:

My whole life has been an ongoing catastrophe lately and I feel like i am really helpless. My dad's wife has brain damage/ is in the hospital and he's got low mobility and a roach infested house. They live like an eight hour drive away and we have no money so I'm having to take money from my transphobic brother to stay in a hotel, and I have four days there to try to solve like six months of problems without the resources to do so.

We're already in debt and i am deeply aware of just how much time I have to try to turn things around for myself, too. I need to find a new online job I can actually do but the rest of everything has been so overwhelming I haven't really had time or brains pace to do it.

Also I have been trying to get a dentist appointment at a place that will bill medi-cal because I ground my teeth so hard I cracked a molar.

(If several ppl weren't depending on me I think I'd just go crawl into a bog and never return)

A little update 3/16:

We're heading up to my dad's tomorrow and the new plan is to try to get him to come back down with us. He doesn't seem like he can live on his own. And until we can figure out how to get him help here it's just gonna be me and my mom taking care of him.

(The good news is I went to a different dentist and I guess the first one straight up lied to me and all I did was chip a tooth in the back. I'll need a filling but that's not as bad as I thought)

Donations/ comms/ shop purchases still definitely needed! If we CAN convince him to come with us, It'd be nice if we could get a bed or something here so I don't have to start sleeping on an air mattress