#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.

[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).

[antheyaaa]

haaaiii!! requesting again LMAO but anyways can I get a call fic with a reader who has nightmares quite often of an incident that occurred in their past? so they just go to call for comfort and ask to cuddle maybe? (So sorry if ur too busy for this!! I've just been having frequent nightmares and stuff)

"Through the Dark"

Calvin Gabriel x reader

The nightmare ripped you from sleep like a sharp breath of cold air. Your chest felt tight, your heartbeat hammering against your ribs as you sat up, gasping, the shadows in your room stretching too long, too dark. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. But your body hadn’t caught up to that fact yet.

For a long moment, you just sat there, trembling, rubbing your hands over your arms like you could shake off the lingering dread. You had gotten used to this—waking up in a cold sweat, struggling to breathe, unable to stop your mind from replaying the past over and over again. But knowing it was normal didn’t make it any easier.

You reached for your phone without thinking, barely registering what you were doing before you tapped on Calvin’s contact. Your fingers hovered over the screen for a second. It was late. Too late. He was probably asleep, or—

Your phone buzzed.

He picked up.

“…You good?” His voice was rough with sleep, but there was no irritation in it. Just groggy concern.

You swallowed hard. “I—I didn’t mean to wake you, I just—”

“Bad dream?” he guessed.

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you. “Yeah.”

There was a pause, then the rustling of fabric. You pictured him sitting up, running a hand through his hair, already pulling on a hoodie even though you hadn’t asked.

“Come over,” he said simply.

You hesitated. “Cal, it’s—”

“Don’t care. Just get here.”

The call ended before you could argue.

—

The walk to his house was short, but it still felt like a lifetime before you were knocking lightly on his window, the way you always did when it was late and you didn’t want to wake anyone else.

A second later, it slid open, and there he was—Calvin Gabriel, hoodie half-zipped, hair a mess, squinting at you like you were an idiot for even hesitating to come over.

“Took you long enough,” he muttered, stepping aside so you could climb in.

The second your feet hit the floor, his arms were around you.

It wasn’t the first time he had hugged you, but something about this felt different. He was warm—solid in a way that made it easier to breathe. His hands pressed firmly against your back, grounding you as you finally let yourself relax, sinking into him.

“You’re okay,” he murmured against your hair, his voice softer now. “You’re safe.”

You weren’t sure how long you stood there like that, but eventually, Calvin pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes flickered over your face, like he was checking for any signs that you might disappear if he let go.

“Can I—” You hesitated. “Can I stay?”

He snorted. “Obviously.”

He didn’t even bother arguing about space when you climbed into his bed, just rolled his eyes before lying down next to you, lifting an arm in silent invitation. You tucked yourself into his side, your head resting against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

His fingers traced slow, absentminded circles against your back, his other hand coming up to rest lightly against the nape of your neck.

“…Better?” he murmured.

You nodded, your body finally starting to relax for the first time all night.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Better.”

Cal hummed, his breathing slowing, already half-asleep again. But even as he drifted off, his grip on you never loosened.

And for the first time in a long time, the nightmares didn’t follow.

Hiii girlll, I'm never busy for you and your ideas. I hope you like it and that's what you wanted. I got my period and because of my horrible painful cramps I didn't go to school, if I didn't have requests for what to write, I'd be bored to death😩

With love-Antheya

[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)

[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

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ prev. chapter | next chapter | ao3 ver. | playlist ꒦꒷ O.B MASTERLIST

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

[strip-weathers]

Here’s a lil fanfic about Lynda finding out she’s pregnant and she tells Strip about it 🫣

A quiet and calm morning as Weather’s house was interrupted by vomiting Lynda in the bathroom. She’s been feeling like this since she came home from last Strip’s race. Everyday she wakes up, she feels sick and she doesn’t know why.

When she stopped vomiting she sat down on the cool floor of the bathroom and leaned against cool wall and closed her eyes. She was thinking what it could’ve caused this. She wasn’t sure if she ate something bad or she’s just getting sick. Then it smacked her right between her eyes. Strip!

She was with him last race right? And he did win that race and they were celebrating it. Of course it’s obvious what happened right when they came back to Strip’s trailer. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

She quickly took pregnancy test she hadn’t used for a while. After some minutes she looked at it and it was positive.

Positive..

She always wanted to see it word. She couldn’t believe that. She took a deep breath and hugged her knees. She and Strip were trying to have a baby for so long. Yet it didn’t work out many times. And they’ve been arguing about it many times. And after a while, they stopped trying and let that be. But now it came true.

She can’t wait to tell Strip. But she was worried a little. What if he wouldn’t want it? What if it’s not his dream like it used to be? She quickly shook these thoughts away though. She knew Strip would never leave her.

She got up and left the bathroom.

—-

“I’ll see you next weekend right?” Gray asked

“Yep. See you next weekend.” Strip answered with smile.

“Okay. Bye then!” Gray smiled as he started leavening Weather’s driveway.

—-

Strip unlocked the front door and came inside. He looked around and was surprised. He expected Lynda to greet him right away he gets inside but she wasn’t anywhere.

“Lyn?” He called but he didn’t hear any response. It was so unusual for her. He rushed to the kitchen because he knew it was her usual place to be. When he came to the kitchen, Lyn was turned to the kitchen counter and she was cutting some vegetables. The kitchen smelled familiar. She was making soup broth.

“Hey Lyn?” He said in worried tone.

“Strip? Oh-hey. I didn’t hear you coming.” She answered quickly and turned to him. She was too focused on THAT thing.

She put the knife away and slowly approached him, putting her arms around him to hug him tightly. She looked so different to Strip and he didn’t know why.

“Hey. You okay darling?” He asked quietly.

She only nodded as reply. She tightened the hug and laid her head against his chest. Strip wasn’t sure what was happening but he stayed quiet and pulled her closer into hug and gently played with her brown hair.

“What’s wrong baby..?” He asked quietly as he looked down at him.

“Nothing love. Nothing. I guess we just missed you.” She said quietly. She hoped Strip heard that properly.

“Wait-We? Cal’s here?” He asked.

“No silly.” She quietly chuckled. Then she gently took Strip’s hand and slowly put it on her belly.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Well, I said WE missed you.”

WE.. Strip stayed still for a while and when he finally understood what did that mean, he couldn’t believe that. He felt his happy tears fall down his cheeks.

“We’re going to have a baby Strip.” Lynda smiles happily and looked up at him.

“Oh my-“ he smiled happily as he quickly tightened the hug. “I can’t believe that! I thought we already can’t have a baby..”

“I know I know. I thought the same but this week I felt so sick every morning and I didn’t know why until I took the pregnancy test that showed positive. We’re really going to have a baby!”

“I’m so happy it finally worked out! I mean I didn’t expect that to happen tho.”

“Yeah. We didn’t even use protection.” She quietly chuckled.

“Yeaaah. But hey, we didn’t even have time for it.”

“No. Because someone was too drunk to think about more things huh?”

“Eh. What can I say.” Strip chuckled embarrassedly a little.

Lynda shook her head and pulled him closer to kiss his lips deeply and passionately.

Strip kissed her lips deeply and passionately in return. “Mm but it was nice night.”

Lynda smiled and moved her hands around his neck. “Mm it was.”

“Mm yes. I loved that outfit you wore. You were so sexy.”

“Mm I can wear it for you again if you want. Buuut now come and sit. I made you your favorite soup broth.”

“Yass!”

Lynda chuckled.

—-

Later in the bed, Strip and Lynda were cuddling under one blanket.

“So” Lynda said as she laid her head on Strip’s chest, sighing happily.

“So what hmm?” Strip replied.

“If it’s girl, her name is gonna be Scarlett.”

“Whoa. You were already thinking about it huh?”

“Yes. And I’m pretty sure it’s going to be girl.”

“Okay okay.” Strip chuckled “But what if it’s boy?”

“Well I’ll let you decide the name.”

“Aww. Okay. Thank you.”

“Oh silly you don’t have to thank me for that.” Lynda smiled and kissed Strip’s forehead.

Strip smiled and pulled her closer to him “This is one of my best days ever.”

“I could say the same thing.” She smiled and looked into his eyes “I love you Strip.”

“I love you too Lyn. More than anything else.”

[zaradress]

brothers best friend

pairing: Callum McGinley x Airey reader warnings: sexual content, age gap, unprotected sex, thigh riding, daddy kink prompt: Faye is Callum Airey's sister and has an extreme attraction to Callums best friend Callux.

Fuck he looked good. I sat as I watched him behind the scenes of a sidemen shoot. Every bone in me tries to disguise how attracted I am to him, since I know that nothing will ever happen between the two of us.

For one he is 10 years older than me and is not even supposed to be an option with how my brother would react to his best friend having sexual thoughts about me.

Cal would literally kill me if I even initiate something with Lux. But I couldn't ignore the fact that whenever he was around my knees instantly fold or my panties become less and less dry.

The thing is I can't get him off my mind. Perhaps it's because I'm just horny and have never had a sexual experience but if you ask me it's more than that. Since there was just something in me that wanted to make him proud or just want his approval and no one else's.

I haven't even realised that I have been staring at him for the past couple of minutes. Because of my staring Lux sent me a questionable look.

"Alright lets take 20, everyone", some person behind the camera shouted. Probably since they were going to be here the entire day. I am only going to be here for another hour until my mom can come pick me up. So I definitely understand why they are taking a break.

Callux starts walking towards me. My brother had left with some of the guys to get some food from the buffet. "Aren't you going to go eat?" I ask him politely trying to not make it obvious that just a couple of minutes ago I was thinking about him being inside of me.

"Not really hungry for food", he responds.

I give him a confused look. "Than what are you hungry for?" I laugh a little through the confusion.

His eyes travel up and down my body stopping at my clenched thighs that were closer together than anything else on this world. Lux sits down next to me. "Why are your thighs so clenched, here let me help you", he puts his soothing hand on my thigh. Trying to relax my muscles. His hand traveling further and further up my thigh.

Good thing I am wearing my jeans. Otherwise I probably would have come un done right there and then. I close my eyes and put my head back. Enjoying a feeling I probably will never feel again. He retrieves his hands and I quickly open my eyes again. "All better", he says.

"Thanks I guess", I say whilst crossing my legs. My cheeks turn to a rosey color.

"So why were you staring at me before", well what am I supposed to say to that, "that I was thinking about how you could fuck me good", that would just be stupid.

I look at Callum who looked at me in a shocked manner. "Oh my fucking god I did not just say that out loud. Please tell me I didn't say that", he laughs a little.

"Yes you did and yes I could", he says and gets up. Leaving me in utter disbelief.

I just can't believe I said that. At least he didn't feel uncomfortable. More like amusing.

The boys returned with food on some paper plates and sat down in the studio. Not being able to stand the weird tension in this room whilst Callux was talking to my brother as if I hadn't just seconds ago said that I want him to fuck me, I decide to get some food.

At the buffet there were a lot of options. But I was most interested in the rice so I took some rice and vegetables. I sat down in the empty room not even hungry.

I decide to not eat my food and just sit there playing with the strings of the holes in my jeans. All of a sudden someone sits down beside me. Lux. "There you are, I've been looking for you", I couldn't even look at him and hide my face in my hands. Still embarrassed over what I had done earlier. "Why are you hiding you're. Come on it wasn't that bad. I get it I was your age once too and fuck me I wanted to fuck anyone if they'd given me the chance", I laugh he gets a hold of my hands and put them down.

"Well the thing is, this is probably tmi but I just think I need to say this. I have never had a sexual experience, not even by myself and I have never had the urge to but I don't know lately every fucking time I see you...thats enough information", I tell him.

He looks at me a little shocked. His hand travel to my thigh stopping at a hole in my jeans. "Never? You have to be kidding right. There is no way not even you have played with yourself", he says his hand sliding in to the loose hole in my jeans. His hand caressing my naked thigh.

"I just never have had the urge. And I am honestly scared of doing anything to myself", he looks me in the eyes. I know what he is thinking probably. "I need to stop talking", I say.

The thing is just the feeling of his hand on my thigh could make me tell him anything if he asked me. "Don't rush it, okay? One day you will find a guy you find attractive and then things will just unravel", he tells me. "Because even if I wanted to give you that pleasure I can't. Cal is my best friend and it would literally kill me", he tells me. I nod understanding everything he is telling me.

Suddenly my phone begins to vibrate and with that Callum decided to leave. I pick up the phone and my mother immediately says that she's here. So I get my things and leave.

Before I can even enter the car she says something. "So you're staying at your brother place today. He's not very happy about it and neither am I but I have no other choice", she says.

"What do you mean you have no other choice?" I ask her confused as to what she means by that.

"I got a call from a client in Edinburgh and have to catch a flight today. I swear I'm going to change firms because this is actually not okay anymore", she says. Lately her law firm has been only sending her to the further away places and has had to travel last minute. She is in her own opinion starting to turn grey because of this.

"Well can't I just stay alone at home", she laughs.

We pull up to Callums apartment. "There is no way I'm letting you stay alone. What if something happens? No no I'm already turning grey there is no way I am letting you do that", she says. "I packed you a bag for the night get it from the backseat". She gives me a kiss on the cheek and leaves after I get the bag and shut the door.

I walk up to his apartment and lock the door after entering. Leaving all my stuff in the living room and sitting down on the couch. Intending to take a nap. But that nap turned into a three hour long sleep. Which probably would have been longer if I hadn't heard the door unlock.

The three boys enter. "I'm never doing sidemen shoots again it takes way to fucking long", my brother says.

"What are you yapping about you always want to be there", Harry said obviously exhausted.

"Yeah and then I end up regretting it", they all took off their jackets and shoes. Finally noticing me after.

"I didn't know your sister was staying here", Harry says. Callux looked at me slightly surprised I was here.

"Yeah forgot to tell you guys but my mum told me about it just a few hours ago", Cal says.

"Well I'm gonna hit the hay", Harry says.

"Same, well at least a nap", Cal says and turns to me before entering his room. "Don't do anything stupid and you know where everything is", he says and enters his room.

Now it was just me and Lux. Who has gone to the fridge to get a drink. "Aren't you going to go to bed?" I ask him.

"Not really tired so no", he says and sits down beside me.

"So you're not really hungry and not really tired than what are you", I laugh at him.

He laughs as well closing his eyes and putting his head back. "Really fucking horny that's what I am", he laughs. I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. But I felt a little courageous. So with him not having opened his eyes yet I straddle his lap.

Immediately he opens his eyes. "What the fuck are you doing", he says placing his hands on my thighs. I put my hands around his neck.

"Nothing, just thought your lap would be more comfortable", I smirk lightly.

He takes a deep breath his eyes traveling from my eyes to my lips. I adjust a little to be more comfortable. To which he holds down my hips so it becomes more difficult for e to move as well as putting some pressure. A very light moan escapes my lips when I feel something pressing against my sex. I hide my face in the crook of his neck.

Because of the light moan he pushes against me again making me moan again. I started to roll my hips and he pushed hard against me. "Lux", I moan into his ear and he groans. "Harder", I tell him. And he listens pushing very hardly against my sex as I roll my hips meeting his.

All of a sudden he stops my hips. I look at him confused and desperate. "Straddle my leg. I want you to fuck yourself on my leg", says putting a hair behind my ear. I have never done anything like this. But I am submissive and oblige happily to his command. I straddle his leg and start rolling my hips hard and fast.

"Just like that", he says. "Such a good girl", he starts to bounce his leg which makes me moan even harder. He puts a hand against my mouth to muffle my moans.

I couldn't get enough of the sensation and I was getting closer to my climax. "Lux I think I'm close", I tell him.

"No you're not, I am telling you when you are close. You listen to me", he says. Only making more wet. I loved being controlled by him. Being told what to do.

I bite down on his shoulder lightly to muffle my moans. Because the constant rubbing against his leg and rough material was getting to me. "Now take off your jeans", he tells me. I stand up quickly and take off my jeans. He unzips his jeans. A prominent budge visible. But he doesn't take them off fully. I straddle his lap yet again in my underwear. He pulls out his dick.

"Lux how is that supposed to fit. It's so big", I tell him starting to get scared of the pain I might feel.

"Don't worry I will be slow and careful. It might hurt but you won't have to take me entirely", he says. His hands travel to my underwear pulling it aside. And then I position myself on him.

It hurt but in a good way. I moan silently knowing we aren't alone. I start going down his shaft. It was visible how desperate he was for it to go faster.

"Your doing so great just keep going", he says his hands guiding my hips. I reach the end and start to roll my hips. As he starts to fuck into me as well.

I wanted to scream instead whimpers were coming out because of how much ecstasy I was feeling. He started going harder. His dick pushing hard inside of me. Going in and out every time harder. I rolled my hips faster.

Never have I never felt anything like this. "Such a good girl aren't you", he tells me. "Such a good girl for Daddy aren't you", he says which makes me moan a little too loud. "Quiet you don't want us to get caught do you?", he asks.

"No I don't daddy, I'm sorry", I hold in my moans which is harder than what you would think. I get close to his ear. "Daddy", I whisper. To which he thrust became deeper and harder.

"Ugh, I don't know how much longer I can take", I tell him. Lux repositions us so he's on top and I am laying on the sofa.

"Just a little more, so daddy can come with you", he says.

The thrust were only getting harder and holding in my climax wasn't getting easier. "Alright princess you can cum now", his thrusts have become sloppier and he came inside of me at the same time as I did.

Still inside of me he lied on top of me a little. Applying as little pressure as possible. "Fuck that was good", he says.

He gets up and puts his dick in his away. Going to the bathroom. Lux returns with a towel. "Let me clean you up a bit", he says and starts cleaning me up.

I was still in shock of how good it was. Maybe it was worth the wait? "Lux?" I say.

"Yeah?", he says returning from between my legs to a normal state. I put my underwear to it's original state and go to my bag to get my shorts.

"Cal can't find out about this I say", to which he nods and agrees. I put my shorts on. "That was fucking amazing though.", I say and lay my head on his lap.

As I start to fall asleep again. Exhausted.

[ixekizumab]

hello hello! by any other name for the wip game <3

By Any Other Name is my Rosekiller fic (currently on hiatus but I swear I am coming back to it soon, otherwise I will have to answer to @mywifeisaworm). It started as me trying to figure out how it might be possible to tell the "canon" Barty Crouch Jr. story without magic. And somehow that turned into a Shakespearean tragedy with Breaking Bad energy. Here's a snippet!

Stanford University Palo Alto, California September 2002

The addition of a vanilla latte is nice, but this required reading is no less tedious in CoHo than it was in the library. Fuck these gen ed classes, honestly. Why does Barty need them to get a chemistry degree? He thinks he may have made a mistake picking Stanford over Cal Tech after all. They probably don’t make you read these nonsense books from five hundred years ago at Cal Tech. But then again, Pasadena seems boring as shit, so…

He takes another sip from his too-hot latte to delay the moment where he has to bring his eyes back down to the pages of this god-forsaken play. Scalding liquid burns his tongue and throat, and he hisses under his breath. Okay. Fine. His ring-clad fingers spread the pages open to Act I, Scene II, and Barty forces his gaze down to the printed words.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?”

The voice is pleasant but coming from a little too close. It just has to be directed at Barty. Not entirely disappointed at the excuse to abandon his short-lived reading attempt, his eyes flit upward to see who has invaded his personal space to speak gibberish at him. It’s the kind of insane thing one of the panhandlers just off campus would say, but this man doesn’t look homeless. He looks… well, he looks beautiful.

He has the kind of sun-kissed blonde hair and lightly tanned skin that makes Barty think of surfers. And yet, that’s not the vibe he’s giving. Maybe it’s the way he’s dressed in dark colors, black shirt providing little contrast against deep navy jeans. Or maybe it’s the eyebrow piercing. Or the half-sleeve of impeccably shaded roses on his arm.

Maybe it’s something else entirely.

“Are you talking to me?” Barty asks, his attempt at a scathing look less successful than usual in the face of this disconcertingly attractive man.

“Oh.” The stranger’s smile falters. “Yeah, just… you know. Because of what you’re reading?”

Barty’s cheeks heat as he realizes the man was, in fact, not speaking nonsense a moment ago but rather making a Shakespeare reference that had sailed right over his head. “Guess I haven’t gotten to that part yet.”

“Well…” Charming grin beginning to reemerge, the stranger responds. “Not to spoil anything for you, but the ending is kind of a bummer.”