#technically half of these are cal's guys

[charaznablescanontoyota]

🎵 the classics: silconnie and darcydakota (or perhaps even sildarcy and conniekota if u are feeling spicy)

hmmMM let me do one for each

silconnie: warmth - bastille

never good, just the bad and the ugly, laid in front of you nothing quite like seeing the world through the tv's window feeling helpless, i look for distraction, i go searching for you wandering through our city to find some solace at your door

darcydakota: portions for foxes - rilo kiley

it's just bad news, bad news, bad news 'cause you're just damage control for a walking corpse like me, like you

sildarcy: don't let's start - they might be giants

don't, don't, don't let's start i've got a weak heart and i don't get around how you get around

conniekota: r u mine? - arctic monkeys

and the thrill of the chase moves in mysterious ways so in case I'm mistaken, i just wanna hear you say, "you got me baby"

bonus silvkota: i couldn't do it alone - the dear hunter

wait, stay pick it up if you want me, please i couldn't do it alone (a dead dog should know) i couldn't do it alone (a dead man should know)

[valentiyne]

𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗐𝗈 ☆ 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗎𝗆 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽

Calum Hood x Fem!Reader Warnings: Slight Cursing & Soft!Cal. Summary: Requested! Blind date with Calum, a match made in heaven, or a bundle of awkwardness and spilled drinks? Word Count: 2.1k Copyright © 2023 Valentiyne. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻

You weren't even sure how you managed to end up in this position.

Your skin-colored leggings suffocate your thighs, your heels marking your ankles with raw blisters, and the mini skirt your roommate begged you to wear riding up every damn step you take. She wanted to play matchmaker for the night, claiming this guy she knew from work was "my other half." Now here I was, walking down Hollywood Boulevard in an outfit that a paper towel could probably cover more skin.

The restaurant she told you to meet him at was 20 minutes away from our shared apartment, and you had to be shoved to finally walk out the door. I had no idea who I was meeting or his name.

"You have fun, be safe and I packed a few condoms in your bag!", she pushed me out the door, waving ecstatically with a high-pitched squeal.

A few?

I look up the see the tiny diner come into view, her excuse being "he can't technically be seen in any major restaurants." whatever that means.

Pushing the doors open, I look around the empty room. It wasn't too late at night, only being 7PM- but it was a Monday. The back walls were all mirrors, making me avert my attention to myself and what I was wearing once again. I had stopped and looked at my reflection every chance I got on my way here, and now that I'm placing it in this diner- I am way overdressed. A few coffee pots were on warmers, probably hours old and bitter. The jukebox in the corner was playing some Elvis song that Chloe could name if you played it backward, and I smiled at the thought nevertheless.

"Have a seat anywhere", the waitress calls from the back and I give a faint smile to her. I spot someone sitting in the back left corner, opposite to the Jukebox, a menu propped up to cover their entire face.

Is that him?

I slowly walked towards the booth, looking around once more before standing in front of the occupied table. I cleared my throat quietly, hopefully to grasp their attention.

"Excuse me? Um are you here for a date", I ask after no response, mentally praying I wasn't completely embarrassing myself with a total stranger.

The menu flew down with a gust of wind following, my hair twirling back as I made eye contact with brown eyes and freshly dyed blue hair.

"Hey, Yeah that's me", He smiles nervously, his hand leaning up awkwardly to shake. I quirk an eyebrow at him and slowly slide into the booth across from him, shaking his hand slowly.

"I'm Y/n, a friend of Chloe's", I smile nevertheless, ignoring his very visible awkwardness.

I glance down at the table now, noticing the single menu sprawled out infront of him.

He clears his throat before speaking, extending his hand out once more before retracting it quickly, "I'm Calum."

"Any reason there's only one menu, Calum?", I lightly joke, pointing down at the menu he still had grasped in one hand. His eyes go wide and he slides it over to my side of the table, muttering curse words under his breath.

"Shit sorry, I completely spaced it and told the waitress it was a table for one- maybe two", a hand flies up to the back of his neck and I take note that they are painted silver, clasped with multiple various rings.

I put a hand up to reassure him, a light smile paints my pink lips and he throws his head back and laughs- mainly at himself.

"Tell me about yourself?", He dares to ask, his eyes looking up to meet mine as I focus my attention on the condensation dripping down and pooling from my water glass.

"There's not much to say really, I'm a full-time employee who barely has time to sleep", I laugh softly, toying with the straw settled in my water. That was the stupidest response I could've given.

"I understand the no sleep, I'm always on tour with my mates so sleep is usually the least of my worries", He leans his back against the seat, folding his hands on the table neatly.

"You're in a band? What do you play?"

Calum proceeds to tell me everything there is to know about him- life on tour, the crazed obsessed fans, and the 'sexy' bass he picked up the other night. I sat and listened to every word of it, not bothering to interrupt how passionate he sounded about his hobbies. It gave me a sense of relief knowing he didn't find me boring compared to his hectic lifestyle, maybe even reassured that there's more to life than status.

"Were you two ready to order?", the waitress from before calls from a few tables away, her hands full with ketchup bottles. I look down at my phone to notice that Calum had been talking for 30 consecutive minutes- not letting the overworked waitress take our order sooner.

"Oh yes! I'm so sorry, can we just get one banana split to share?", I smile at the girl and she returns the favor with a slight thumbs up.

Calum turns to me with a laugh, "Really?".

"What?" I laugh now too, it was almost contagious at this point.

"A banana split? I invite you to dinner and you get desert?"

My mouth drops open, and I lean across the table to playfully smack his hand. He retracts his hand quickly, reaching up to push two fingers against my forehead to stop me from reaching across any further.

"There's nothing wrong with dessert for dinner, Calum"

"Never said there was, Y/n"

He shrugs in agreement before pushing his water to the side to make room for the incoming plate. The waitress places the monstrous desert before us, two spoons on the plate and she drops a few napkins at his side.

"You two enjoy!"

We both thank her kindly before I look back towards Calum, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he tries to process how we are both going to manage to finish this. Instead, he leans down with his mouth open wide at the desert to playfully take a chomp at the whipped cream that was piled on.

"Calummmm", I whine, swatting him away as he gives me a cream filled smile. I watch as his eyes make contact with the mountain of whip cream before him and devilish smirk appears. He then leans up quickly, snatching a scoop of the whip cream with his fingers to fling at me. I burrow closer to me seat, protecting my face with my hands as I squeal loudly. In one swift moment, his hand reached across towards me and knocked both of our waters onto the table- destroying our desert.

"Oh shit", he says quickly, his hands flying to tug the napkin from under the plate between us and attempting to clean the mess with one lone napkin.

"You're an idiot", I say in between laughs, my hands wrapped around my stomach to contain the pain now emerging with every breath.

He grumbles something under his breath before he begins laughing himself, his cheeks squishing against his eyes and face bright red.

"Can I say I officially ruined this date? Yeah?" Calum inquires, his eyes traveling down to the drenched shirt I now wore.

"Nah, I think it's probably the best date I've ever been on", I scoop up a piece of our watery banana split, eyeing it for a moment before dropping the spoon back down in the puddle. Calum works on cleaning the rest of the water off the table, attempting to ease the workload on our waitress.

"Let me get you a new shirt at least?", He opens his wallet, tossing more than enough to cover the bill before sliding out of the booth. I nod in agreement and push all the dishes to the front of the table for the waitress, giving him a laugh before sliding out with him.

"Already trying to take my clothes off?", I tease, earning a new formed look of horror on his face. "I'm just teasing, sure I would love a new shirt." He extends a hand down for me to take and I gladly accept it, walking out of the diner with an apologetic wave to the waitress. Calum kept his hand clasped in mine tightly, his head bowed down up until the point we reached the car. I paid no mind to it, knowing the underlying meaning behind the secrecy of our encounter.

"Is it okay if we go back to mine? If you want I can take you home and-", He begins rambling, his hand opening the passenger door for me. I nod my head, plopping down into the seat and clasping the seatbelt across my chest. He gives a faint smile and closes the door behind me with a "Watch your tail."

As he walked around the car to his side, I could've sworn I heard a "Yes!" from under his breath.

Calum's house was more than I expected, it was clasped with vintage decor and numerous shelves honoring his awards and medals. Sure, I knew he was in a band, but this wasn't what I exactly had in mind. I think I expected the house to be littered with clothes from numerous hookups or even just sheets of music paper everywhere. He tossed his keys into a bowl in the hallway, slipping his shoes off and neatly tucking them away. I take note of it and slide my heels off as well, pushing them aside as I step onto the cold hardwood.

"Let me grab you something to wear", Calum says as he makes his way down the hall and toward what I'm assuming is his bedroom. I hear little footsteps bolting my way and I turn around to see a salt and pepper puppy at my feet, circling me as it sniffed.

"Hey little guy", I crouch down to offer a hand before scrunching at its neck.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted a hoodie or a shirt since your top is kinda small- not that that's a bad thing but you must be cold from the wa-", his voice echoes in the hallway, getting louder before he suddenly stops infront of me.

"Who's this?", I ask as the dog licks away at my hand, tail wagging so quickly I was sure he would start floating.

"Oh! I forgot to mention I had a dog", Calum crouches down, picking up the dog and placing him on the couch next to him. "That's Duke, hope you're not allergic or anything." I shake my head, my heart growing at the mere thoughtfulness that he has shown me throughout the night.

He holds up two options to wear. The first being a white and red t-shirt with some type of writing sprawled on it and the second being a oversized green hoodie with embroidery on the front.

"Now these are my prized possessions, If I let you borrow one I'll expect a second date in return. Deal?" He says hopefully, holding both out towards me and I hesitate for a moment between the two.

"They are that important to you huh?", I smile and grab the hoodie to feel the texture of it before deciding on it, grabbing it from his hand. He points at a door down the hallway he just exited from with a nod,

"You have no idea.."

[davekat-sucks]

I was thinking about the whole "Bro was abusive" thing again and i still don't think HE was abusive, let me explain why i emphasized that "HE". BUT let me get one thing out of the way first: i doubt Hussie had planned for Lil Cal too be a combination of 4 different guys at first, i do think Cal was supposed to be an evil puppet controlling Bro too an extent, but since canon its now that Cal is 4 dudes i thought I'd make a lil analysis. I think Bro was being fully possessed by lil Cal, I do not think his actions were technically his own, I'll get into why i say "technically". Like i stated earlier Cal is a combination of 4 guys (i guess 3 and half if you want too be THAT technical) being, Caliborn, Lil Hal, Equius, and half of Gamzee. Lil Cal's design also takes influence from aspects of those characters, he has Caliborns face, his shirt is the same color as Equius's blood, he wears a hat referencing the strider aspect, I'll be honest i cant exactly say where Gamzees influence comes in, I'd probably pin it on the laughing Cal does but whatever. Even stuff Bro "does himself" reflect this, the snuff filming, the rapping, the fighting, the crude comic making, etc, all of those things are something THOSE GUYS do. The point is Cal IS a combo of these guys, he is literally THEM. I think the best way too explain how Bro was possessed by Cal is like Pixars Inside out, instead of Riley it's Bro and instead of the Emotions it's Caliborn, Hal, Equius, and Gamzee, all forcing Bro too do those actions, ALL of them had an imput in raising Dave. But let's get into that "technically" now, Lil Hal is Dirk, Dirk is Bro, while everyone else was doing their bullshit while being Cal i think Hal was the nurturing part of Bro, we've seen how Hal/Dirk can care for people so i think it's safe too say he was the one responsible for protecting Dave and caring for Dave. I didn't put quotations around "part" last sentence was because Hal IS Bro technically, probably the only true and real part of the ACTUAL Bro. So technically Bro wasn't the abusive one, he was the caring part through Hal which IS him, it was Caliborn, Equius, and Gamzee were the abusive "parts" of Bro.

That is an interesting way to look at it. I can certainly see how parts of each one taking control to have Bro raise and care for Dave in different ways. Things like sparring would come from the sides of ARquius (Lil Hal and Equius), since both have been known to train and fight [Lil Hal on training Jake and Equius fighting with his robots]. Gamzee, Equius, and Dirk have an interest in rap/slam poetry. Equius and Caliborn have an interests in arts (Equius love for hoofbeast while Dirk & Caliborn do drawing). Setting up the porn bots to talk to each other (to having like an AI), would come from Dirk/Lil Hal/Auto Responder. Makes me feel sorry for Bro that his mind would be fucked because of this.

[jungle-angel]

The First Cozy Christmas (Calvin Evans x Reader)

Summary: It's been a day and Calvin can't wait to get home to you and your baby

Warnings: Mentions of birth, religion etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse

"Now it's important to remember that with certain elements, they are often ductile which means they can be run through wires" Calvin explained to his students who were all seated at the lab counters. "Cobalt in this case, is a ductile substance but it is also malleable. Now malleable substances do what?"

Only one brave student dared to raise their hand. "They can be reshaped?"

"You would be right Cindy," Calvin pointed out. "I'm not gonna bother you guys much with the chemical makeup of it all, we will of course be going over the fine details, but as of right now we really need to explore the technical and practical side. Memorizing formulas and makeup will only do so much until you actually start to work with it."

He looked at the wall clock, hoping that time had gone by just a little faster, but to Calvin's dismay, it was only 8:50 in the morning and class had started at 8:30. No amount of coffee was going to get him through the long day ahead.

Calvin went around helping each of his students with their lab work, making sure none of them burned themselves in the process. All the while he listened in case someone should come knocking at the door, hoping he could give the next impudent little admin a tongue lashing.

He opened the windows after the heat from the bunsen burners had cranked up the temperature just a little. The cold air felt much better on his face and neck, even as a few snowflakes blew in from outside.

At last the class was dismissed around 9:30 and Calvin could step outside to get some air. He headed back to the cafeteria to meet up with Dr. Powers, now fresh from a lecture, the both of them hoping to catch a break. The cafeteria had always been a favorite place of theirs, more so when Calvin had met you and introduced you to Anthony your first year teaching at the university. The place had been neatly decorated for Christmas, with all the pine garlands around the windows and shelves, a bulletin board full of Christmas cards for the staff as well as flyers and pamphlets for various charities, the smells of the hot meals coming from the kitchens along with the strong smell of peppermint mocha coffee.

"What a morning," Powers groaned. "I almost had a student burn their eyebrows off in the lab this morning."

"You're lucky," Calvin chuckled.

"Says the man who's student made a military grade stinkbomb on Halloween night," Powers joked.

"Lest ye forget, said stinkbomb got us a ten million dollar grant for the college," Calvin reminded him.

Dr. Powers rolled his eyes. "That's not even the half of it either," Powers groaned. "You know that new professor? The one who teaches biology? I think his name is Beecham?"

"Baker," Calvin corrected.

"Yes, him," Dr. Powers continued. "Struts into the lab like he's the cat's ass and starts heckling the students."

"Sound like someone we knew?" Calvin asked, finishing off the rest of his breakfast.

"Probably took over after the little gimp got fired," Powers said, taking a sip of his coffee. "You watch, he'll say the wrong thing and end up getting burned for it the same way D'Nadi did."

Calvin rolled his eyes at the memory of Raymond D'Nadi, the detestable little senior professor who Calvin had encountered more times than not. "You remember the day that Murray sent him walking?" Calvin chuckled.

"Cal that's like asking if the Titanic remembers the iceberg," Powers answered.

Calvin laughed. "I remember Boz's students singing that damn song on his way out."

"Oh God and Professor Broussard's students," Powers chuckled. "Broussard's in the art history department and even he couldn't stand him."

The two of them laughed at the memory, finishing their food and their coffee before their next classes began. At last, the morning seemed to be going by a little bit faster and since the college president had ordered all classes to be done by 12:30 at the latest, it had Calvin wide awake and eager to get home to you. Finally, it was that hour, just in the nick of time as they completed their experiments.

"Alright, everybody clean up your stuff and make sure your lab coats go in the laundry bin outside," Calvin told his students. "We'll pick this up again in four weeks so make sure you keep your brains sharp and your studies up."

The students all bid him farewell, everyone wishing each other a Merry Christmas as they headed out the door. Calvin excitedly dumped his lab coat in the bucket outside the door, relieved that at long last the day was over.

"What'er ye doin in these halls lad? I thought ye'd be goin home?" chuckled a familiar voice.

"Same can be said of you Padre," Calvin chuckled. "How are you?"

"Eh, could be better, but could be worse," Father McDowell said a little ruefully. "Bleedin knee's not lookin much better."

Calvin made a face. He felt terrible that Father McDowell hadn't been feeling well with his bad knee, the poor priest now walking with a cane to keep steady, but in winter weather it had become a little worse for wear. "Anything they can do?"

"Well, Helen asked the surgeon when we went but ain't much they can do," he sighed. "Jaysus be praised, I didn't have to kick anyone in the arse this afternoon."

Calvin laughed as he gathered up his things and threw on his coat. "You want a ride home?" he asked.

"I'd appreciate that immensely boyo," he said. "Rode all the way down here with hardly a way back."

The two of them stopped by the nursing hall where Winnie Daly, one of the nursing students, handed off Six-Thirty to Calvin. All three of them headed out to the parking lot and loaded up in the car, heading for home down the snow covered streets.

"So I heard a detestable little gobshite's been fired eh?" Father McDowell asked him.

"Oh you heard?" Calvin laughed.

"Heard?" Father McDowell said. "He was screechin down the hall like a lady! I stuck me head out the door and threatened to put me boot up his arse if he disturbed the lecture."

Calvin laughed. In all the years that his family had know Father McDowell, he still couldn't get over the fact that the good father had no filter whatsoever.

It was only a short drive through the snow, but Calvin had safely pulled up the little driveway outside of the rectory near the church where Frank and Helen McDowell had lived since coming to the states. He had very fond memories of the place, growing up with the McDowell kids and causing all manner of havoc both in and outside of school.

"Thank ye boyo," Father McDowell said. "Will I be seein ye and (y/n) at Christmas service next week?"

"First thing in the morning," Calvin answered. "Figured it's better than going at midnight."

"Ah, I'd never ask that of ye," Father McDowell told him. "And let me know what the plan is for Ellen and we'll work with it."

"Not a problem Padre," Calvin said. "We'll see you then."

As soon as Father McDowell had gone through the front door, Calvin headed for home with Six-Thirty still in the back. He switched on the radio, content and happy as Frank Sinatra's voice began to fill the car. Finally, the house came into view, the pretty little Christmas lights already strung up, courtesy of Cal's father, Henry.

Calvin entered the house and shut the door behind him quickly to keep out the cold and heavy snow, hanging his coat and scarf up on the hooks near the door. Six-Thirty barked when he saw you in the dining room, walking about with Baby Ellen all snug in her pink blankie and her warm little hat.

"Welcome home Daddy," you chirped in your little sing-song voice.

Calvin took you right in his arms and pressed a searing kiss to your lips. "How's my queen and my princess?"

"Wonderful," you answered. "She's just a little fussy from waking up and your mother is downstairs in the basement finishing the last load of laundry."

Cal felt immense relief when you told him. You and Ellen had only been home for a few days and all the while, he had worried about what would or wouldn't get done around the house. Thank God his parents lived next door and could help.

You very carefully placed Ellen in his arms before going into the living room to turn on the Christmas tree. Calvin smiled as the tiny white lights lit up the room and the fire crackled in the fireplace. This time of the year was always so special to you both, made even more special by the fact that Ellen had arrived just in time for it.

"Well there you are Cal," Patricia happily remarked. "Didn't think you'd be home this early."

"President of the college ordered closings for noon since it's the week before Christmas," Cal explained. "Glad to be home though."

"I'll say," Patricia said, seating herself on the living room sofa to fold the clean laundry in the basket. "Wouldn't wanna be driving in this weather."

Cal yawned and took the spot next to his mother while you were in the kitchen, the smell of dinner wafting into the living room. As soon as Patricia had gone back downstairs, Calvin laid right down with Ellen on top of him, protectively holding her as they both began to fall asleep. Six-Thirty had taken up his post next to the coffee table just in case Ellen should wake up and in no time at all, all three of them were in such deep sleep that they would have barely noticed the house settling.

As soon as dinner had been taken out of the oven, you poked your head into the living room to find your husband, daughter and Six-Thirty all asleep. You took the wool blanket off the back of the chair near the fireplace and threw it over Cal and Ellen before covering Six-Thirty with his own. You couldn't resist taking a little polaroid photo for the scrapbook that Patricia was working on, slipping it into your purse to keep it with you always.

[eclecticopposition]

Another Six Sunday for you! We've got more Kalrin and Ohnyxx, this time in Situations. This one we entirely blame on Cal's last one, because the possibility of digging into their wonderful messy bodyswap had not occurred to us.

If you're out there reading about our guys with zero context we love you. Check out Cal's part of it here: ≠> OHNYXX

tagging @andromedasea @circuitousmoths @aurochsent and @grand-magnificent if you have not already done it. enjoy 😌

--

Oh god, they’re fucked.

You stare at Ohnyxx's body, your body, laying on the ground in the field. Your heart is pounding in your ears. You fucking told them not to get a concussion. You fucking told them not to get incapacitated. 

Well, you hadn’t said it in those exact words. Should you have been more specific? Was that not implied? It probably wouldn’t have mattered, given that you explicitly told them not to get a fucking concussion, and there is no way that is not the literal, actual first thing they did.

You feel cold and wrong. The tension in your body has ratcheted up, but it feels like a vice – it holds you in place, unnaturally still. The basic movements of life are smothered out. You try to suck in a breath and you don’t. You swallow but you don’t. Nothing happens. 

You dig your nails into your palms. That works. It doesn’t hurt right. It doesn’t snap you to attention like it’s supposed to. 

Well, that tracks. Of course it feels different to be an ambush predator, you think, trying not to linger on how much you feel like a prey animal.

Okay. Focus. Okay. 

The Phoenix lands. It is some distance away from them, at least the length of a solid sprint. Your heart sinks even as you put together the pieces of how this is going to go. It isn’t just going for them, which means it’s going to make some threat display, and then it’s going to make their life hell. 

At least it isn't just going to kill them. You’d be fucked if it had.

Not that you're any less fucked after they concussed themself plowing through your fucking porch railing. You cannot even begin to comprehend what kind of move that was supposed to be. Was it a jump? You mean, yeah, that sure was a jump. Undeniably half marks for technically executing it. But even you usually at least try to stick the landing. 

What the fuck were they even trying to do?

Seething with exasperation that does not properly cover your growing apprehension, you spin on one foot and you sprint for the kitchen. Your balance is off. Everything about being in their body is off. You can’t go out there and fight like you’re supposed to; you don’t know how to use it.

Your body will come back. This body will not. And you can’t do what you usually do here. You can’t afford to get them killed. 

Unfortunately, if they die without making it off that cliff, it is simply not going to matter.

Distraction. You need a distraction. You could try your room, but you think maybe you have one stashed in the top cupboards. He’s still there, you think, surely. You certainly don’t remember that fucker atoning for his sins.

You crawl onto the counters, swearing violently when you nearly slip off, and grab onto the side of your rightmost kitchen cabinet. It lurches a little, like you’ve yanked a nail out somewhere. That's probably fine. And then you prop yourself up on your knees, pulling open the doors and squinting inside. 

Empty chip bags, metal pan lids, safety scissors, unsafety scissors. A few bright plastic pencil holders of minutiae. You check the top shelf; it is a deadly labyrinth of mismatched Tupperware containers. You don't remember getting most of them. You suspect they may simply grow inside of unoccupied cabinets, like mold.

You don’t see him, however. 

Fuck, wrong cabinets. Did he move? No, you just forgot which ones you put him in. You just forgot. Probably.

You don’t think he can move. You’ve never seen him do it. But you can't rule it out.

You try the next one over. He's not there either. You don't try the third cabinet, because you know that's where you keep the dirt. That and the tent. You don't know why you picked it up on a whim; it’s not like you can go camping. The bird fucking hates tents. 

You consider the pros and cons of trying to use the tent instead. It could work, maybe. Send that fucker sailing and the reaction would probably be the same. But you suspect you’ll need the audio component – you can’t very well shout without giving yourself away – and one glance out the window tells you that it is not windy enough. Not for a sure bet. 

Besides, you don't want dirt on your stove right now. You don't open that cabinet for a reason.

You kick your toaster out of the outlet and crawl across the counter, hands and knees pounding in the grim march of stubborn perseverance. Kitchenware clatters to the floor around you. You are making a complete mess. It is a pleasantly new kind of mess – your dimensions are not the same, and your weight changes your speed. Different things are within reach at different times. It feels more like barreling than it does like scrambling. This is how you really figure out how to move, you think. You’ll have to experiment with how things go in a fat and stocky body.

You lurch up on your knees again and toss the cabinets open. Nothing on the bottom shelf. Grunting, you push yourself to your feet, sticking your head in through the doors, and–

There! 

There he is, a few doors down. His candy red fur, his glossy dead eyes. His gaping, mocking smile. The light does not touch him directly. Even just the sight of his face in the dark sends a chill up your spine. 

For a moment you waver. Some things not even you should trifle with. But – no, Ohnyxx needs you. Your house and life are on the line.

You grab that fucker by the throat and you drag him out from behind the oversize plates. They came with the house. You never use them. You squeeze his throat and you put a finger to his open mouth to preempt his evil whispers.

“DO NOT FUCK THIS UP FOR US,” you tell him. “I WILL PUT YOU BACK IN THERE. I AM NOT JOKING. YES, IT’S ME, I’M SURE YOU CAN TELL.”

He stares past you and does not make a sound.

“DO NOT FUCK THIS UP,” you repeat. “SERIOUSLY. I MAY KID ABOUT A GREAT MANY THINGS BUT I KID YOU NOT RIGHT NOW. I HAVE NO INTEREST IN YOUR TRICKS AND THE AMOUNT OF BULLFUCKERY I WILL TOLERATE COMES TO A GRAND TOTAL OF ZERO. THIS IS NOT A TRANSACTION AND YOU SHALL KEEP YOUR WRETCHED LITTLE MAW AS QUIET AS THE SHALLOW GRAVE I WOULD OTHERWISE PUT YOU IN, BECAUSE FAILING ALL ELSE, I WILL SEND YOU BACK INTO THE DEPTHS OF KITCHEN SOLITARY AND LEAVE YOU THERE, FOREVER UNABLE TO ROT. KAPICE?”

He does not say anything. You choose to take this as compliance rather than him biding his time, on account of how yours is running out. 

You pull your head back out of the cupboards and find that you are floating.

Just, casually. You had lifted off the counter to reach further back. Now you’re just suspended on nothing, with the small, furry body of a horror in your arms. 

Your eyes dart to him incredulously. There’s no way. There’s no way, right?

Wait, no. 

“OHNYXX WHAT THE FUCK,” you shout, staring down at your bent, unsupported knees. 

They don't answer, of course. On account of being busy getting their ass murdered out there. 

Okay. Okay! So Ohnyxx can fucking levitate. You wrack your brain for what this means for your options.

A crazed semblance of a terrible plan emerges from the dark and watery depths of your mind. You don't give yourself time to second guess it. Instead you fly to the window, scanning the field to see what is happening, and then kick your way over to the dislocated door.

You grab onto the sparse remains of your splintered porch railing, hard. They really did blow through that fucking thing at full force, you think, fondly. What a moron. Then again, could a moron execute something so beautiful? Could a moron birth such a catastrophic headbutt attack? Perhaps this is only the domain of a true moron. A moron is one who sees the gates of beauty and shoves with all their breathtaking, desperate might, and completely fails to register that it is a pull door. 

Still, that has to smart. Your body is going to have so many fucking splinters for the next minute and a half, or however long it takes them to die. You hate shrapnel more than anything else; sometimes the skin heals first and it gets stuck in you for hours. At least they don't have to deal with it long enough to process the fact that they're itchy. 

Wait, was this what they were going for? Did they forget that you can’t fly? 

Nevermind. They are a complete moron.

You take a deep breath. Ohnyxx is on their feet. The bird is chasing them, seeking to punish them for their wrongdoings. They’re doing better than you expected, all things considered. It looks almost comical from the outside. 

That won't last. They aren’t going to make it. They haven't done this before. You have no idea if the shock will incapacitate them if they get speared through. The first true perforation, you think, is when the fight always begins to end. Even though you can heal it away.

Unbidden, you glance down at the little red body in your hand. He hangs limp. Mercifully quiet. 

You never thought you would say goodbye to him. It might be a dereliction of duty to let him loose like this, you think. After all, if killing him were possible, you would have long since obliterated this giggly little fuck. Keeping him trapped on this mortal coil is all you can do. 

But it’s Ohnyxx. And it is also your house. Sacrifices must be made.

You bring him up to be eye level with your face. He stares out past you. 

“I WILL FORGIVE YOU IF YOU PULL THIS OFF,” you lie. 

You squeeze him tightly in your fingers. You obligingly scritch him under the arms. And then you bring your arm back, and you hurl the dark patron, TICKLE ME ELMO, high, high into the sky.

His horrible laughter begins belatedly, as it always does. He is far out of your reach by the time he begins to contort and wiggle and laugh. It is a hideous sound. It is his death warrant, you think, but he can’t resist his nature. He never could.

The bird’s head snaps around immediately. Its beak gapes in a silent howl of outrage. You can see it tracking him through the air, watching him sail up and up, his laugh echoing down faintly into the fields below. Its back and wing feathers are starting to bristle up in warning, the down of its long, serpentine neck lifting in a nearly imperceptible threat.

And then it explodes up after him, screaming and chasing him down. 

[galahadiant]

hey gang check out my horrible guys cw: heavy drinking, shitty dysfunctional relationships. technically cal was also getting misgendered this whole time but I've chosen to use his actual name and pronouns for my own comfort

01.

“Dear, don’t fidget,” whispers Jonah through gritted teeth, and Cal locks his ankles together to try to keep his legs from jiggling under his skirt. Jonah pats his arm with one gloved hand, a strained little gesture, but sweet. Cal can feel that people are staring at them across the table, and he goes back to focusing on his oyster fork. 

Jonah is so patient with Cal, they must be thinking. Cal can never control himself at these things, and Jonah never shouts. Plenty of people in Cal’s family would have lost patience by now, including the cousin glaring at him from across the table. He can feel sweat beading on the back of his neck. This dress has a high lace collar that’s awfully uncomfortable.

 He carefully detaches the oyster from the shell with the tines of the fork. He doesn’t really like oysters. but he chokes another one down just for the look of the thing. Jonah gives him a small smile when he looks up, and quickly moves one of the remaining oysters onto his own plate.

...Jonah is so patient.

02.

Cal drinks straight from the bottle, leaning back against one of the velvet curtains and letting it half envelop him. It’s green velvet, dark. Darker than the trees in the greenhouse. He presses his cheek into it. It’s so soft. It smells like dust. The sky outside the big bay windows in the gallery is butter-and-gold with sulfuric clouds, and the colors waver pleasantly in his vision. 

He takes another swig from the bottle of brandy and gives a small cough as it goes down just a little too fast and hot. Oh, well. It’s starting to taste pretty good now that he’s—

“Are you drunk?” demands Jonah, wrenching the bottle out of Cal’s hand. Cal jumps, briefly scrabbling at the folds of the velvet drapery like he thinks he can sink into it. Maybe he can just hide underneath it and sneak away. Jonah’s voice is so loud.

“We’re about to leave to shop for your wedding dress!” Jonah splutters. He sets the half-empty bottle down on a table, where it’s certainly going to leave a ring of condensation, and extracts Cal from the curtains. “My mother is going to be there,” he adds, more horrified.

“Still don’t get why your mother is coming.”

“I— okay, I don’t either. She insisted, though, so we’d better put on a good show. We’ll get you some water on the way down.” He’s checking them over with his quick, precise little movements, pinning hair back in place, ruffling back out the lace front of their dress. Cal loves how…precise Jonah is. So good at picking up the pieces. Jonah’s always picking up pieces. 

Cal tears up a little. “Sorry,” he says.

Jonah shakes his head and picks up Cal’s velvet jacket, discarded on top of a bookshelf. “You know, your problem is that you’re selfish,” he says. He won’t meet their eyes. “You never think about how much your actions affect other people.” 

“It— it’s MY damn wedding dress!” Cal retorts. “It’s you who went and made it into a production!” 

“Volume,” Jonah says, softly.

Cal wheels on his heel and slams Jonah into a wall. There’s a sharp crack as his head collides with the wooden paneling. The bookshelves rattle, and Jonah grunts. He stares at Cal for a second, brows furrowed, and slowly removes their hand from his arm. 

“…I’m so sorry,” says Cal, aghast. He drops his hand and takes a step backwards, a little unsteady on his feet.

“That’s going to leave a lump,” says Jonah, his voice very distant and sharp on the edges. “I suppose you’re pleased with yourself.”

“No, I’m not, I promise—!”

Jonah pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let’s go get some water, and I’ll ECHO our parents to let them know we’re delayed.” He sighs.

“I’m just nervous, I think,” says Cal mournfully. The stairs are kind of tricky to go down drunk, especially with the hem of his dress getting in the way. “I can’t help it, I haven’t liked any of the dresses we’ve looked at so far, they’re all…they make me feel lumpy.”

“Very few people can go wrong in tailored clothes, and we’ll be getting yours tailored,” says Jonah, not reassuringly. “And if you can’t pick one our parents can just pick one for you. You needn’t get so worried about it.” 

He gives them a small smile when they get to the kitchen. “It shouldn’t be stressful,” he adds. “Drink. And take this, it might help clear your head.” He pushes a pill into their hand and they swallow it obediently. 

“Sorry,” says Cal again.

“I’m sure you’ll look wonderful,” says Jonah, who is looking out the window and absentmindedly rubbing the back of his head.

03.

Dear Jonah,

I’m sorry. I couldn’t go through with it. I’m afraid I’ve been lying to you. It turns out that I’m a guy, actually, and I think you might have been able to tell recently, and I know that’s not something you’re ready to deal with. 

I want to see the rest of the galaxy. I want to have adventures. I want to go places where there are people in danger and help them and I want to be in and out of some real, actual danger. Not just falling out of trees or cloud-diving. Maybe I really am selfish, but I'm also drunk, and I don't care. By the time you read this I'll be offworld.

You can tell everyone I had a nervous break. They’ll believe you. Your mother never liked me much anyway.

My name is Calix, by the way. I guess you deserve to know.

Love you.

04.

Dear Calix,

I don’t think you’re sorry at all.

Don’t try to reach me again.

[29pageshomestuckeveryday]

Homestuck, page 3,627

Rose: Pester informant.

Author commentary: Now that we've officially just confirmed that Doc was derived from Lil Cal, he's taking the liberty of making his similarities more obvious. Don't think we didn't notice that "haa haa" you snuck in there, Doc. Remember Cal, when given the chance to speak in sprite form, only has "haa haa, hee hee, hoo hoo" to say, over and over. Even though Lil Cal isn't a "real character" per se, knowing Doc is part-Cal seems to help characterize him more anyway. Our sense is, despite being inanimate, Cal is a very mischievous and evil puppet. Therefore, so is Doc. Which makes it fitting that Doc launches into some disingenuous-sounding, overly-intellectualized discussion about how he enjoys telling jokes and playing pranks, then later gives us an agonizingly unfunny, very Scratch-branded explanation of how he defines jokes and pranks. He sees them as variations on lies. It's much less about being "funny" to him, since as kind of a computer-like being, he probably has no genuine sense of humor. He seems to perceive everything through the lens of facts and falsehoods, and having full command over when certain facts are imparted and when others are excluded. If any facts are misrepresented, the question is for how long, which is a factor that serves as the basis for his understanding of "jokes." It's both a dry, sociopathic interpretation of the concept of humor, but also a pretty informative window into the way he perceives reality. Information is everything, and variations on knowing vs. not knowing certain facts, who to share them with and when, is the ultimate key to power and manipulating others to achieve your objectives. This also doubles as a dispassionate philosophy on storytelling, which is a practice he notably engages in as well.

Probably one of the more jarring later revelations, which retroactively skews a lot of content, is showing Cal's origin as a storage vessel for a bunch of Bad Boy souls. And the jarring quality, perhaps even the "fridge horror" if you want to start troping up, is especially evident if you review this conversation. If Cal contains those souls, it means Doc must too. Basically, the shitty male cocktail includes: Dirk + Equius + Caliborn + Half a Gamzee (let's call it the "bad half"). It also means those souls are present in Lord English. But we can kind of deduce that certain souls are more dominant in the Doc form, while others surface more in the LE form. It seems pretty clear that while Doc is alive, Dirk and Equius rise to the top, while Caliborn and Gamzee remain slumbering. And when LE is summoned, it's the opposite (which should be pretty obvious, since clearly the guy is just a grown up Caliborn, and unfortunately, he also honks). The Dirkisms running through his dialogue are pretty clear. Aside from the basic tone and intellectual aggression, he also refers to himself as an "uncle" figure. (Dirk is technically Rose's father. But the Dirk splinter stored in Cal is actually his Auto Responder Al duplicate, making him more like Dirk's twin, i.e. Rose's uncle.) Then you have a few beats of conversation which bring Equius to mind, such as the creep-factor, the general feeling of humorlessness, and the "No it's not, Yes it is, No it's not…" dialogue which is the type of interaction we've seen him have with Nepeta a few times already. -->

[d3adlysin]

i successfully fasted today and since i have work tomorrow, im gonna drink half a protein shake in the morning for a little energy boost and then relax the rest of the day

im also getting a little exercise from walking around walmart (i just went for cucumber, tapatio and the protein shake) bc i always walk to the other side just for fun and then walk all the way back for extra steps

that means that im technically at -50 cals for the day ��

so ill see you guys tomorrow!

[mongooseblues]

Stuffy As In Congested, Not As In Boring

Continuing a joke from a year old drabble. Honestly sometimes I just need to watch Cal be sneezy and a professor simultaneously.

- — - — - — - — - — - — - — - — - — - — - — - —

He’s taken measures to prepare, one of which is sixteen ounces of steaming tea in a reusable cup, another is a ream of tissues in his blazer pocket. It’s visible on him still, the last vestiges of his cold, but only if one were to really look through the perky professionalism, the genuine joy he takes in lecturing. Optimism and excitement do a pretty good job of obscuring the physical details.

But they're there if you look. The skin around his nose bears still the traces of frustration from when he couldn’t help but to swipe or to scratch—a bitter rouge that has yet to fully forgive him his mistreatment. He's technically well rested, but his dark circles are darker than usual, the creases below his eyes more pronounced. Leftover sniffles are easily provoked, so he’s drinking this particular cup of tea as slowly as possible.

He starts the lecture with his usual, “Gooooooood… morning!” wherein the ‘Good,’ is drawn out as long as students are still talking, and the ‘morning’ is an inflection change to cheekiness.

“I hope you all had a nice little break Monday. Apologies if my voice sounds kinda funny—I’m still getting over this cold. That was the main reason I canceled class actually. I didn’t feel too bad, but I sounded ridiculous. My partner was making fun of me for being unable to say…” He clicks a button on a very small remote controlling the projector on the ceiling, and the opening slide of his lecture appears against the massive white wall behind him:

Moral Non-Naturalism, it says.

“Wayyy too many nasal consonants in this particular lecture topic. Didn’t feel like making you all listen to seventy-five minutes of me talking about ‘boral dod-daturalism.’”

Cal pauses while students laugh, and starts again with a smile that’s spread further. “I’m still a liiittle bit congested but I’m gonna do my best to enunciate through it. Moral non-naturalism. Ooh that was pretty good! Way better than yesterday, okay here we go.”

A few minutes into the lecture before he starts to feel like he wants to sneeze, distinguishing between naturalism and reductionism with every intention of keeping it together as long as he can, but the gymnastics of his eyebrows are theatrical enough to be seen from any seat, inconveniently expressive and never affording him anything less than complete transparency. A sudden hike, an inward furrow—he knows he couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to, so Cal will have to be transparent as well.

A thought concludes but doesn’t transition. Instead it trails off as he brings a fist under his nose, and winces against a ticklish breath, but the feeling fades after a moment and he sighs a grateful exhale. “Sorry, thought I was about to sneeze for a second there. That wouldn’t have been good with this thing,” he says, indicating the sound-sensitive lav mic clipped to his shirt collar. “Blow out the speakers, snf! Deafen you guys.”

Cal generally tries not to laugh at his own jokes, but sometimes when they go over well he can’t resist joining in with a quick chuckle. He is particularly fond of this Monday/Wednesday class this semester. There’s been an especially joke-receptive energy here since day one, and it gives him the freedom to get sillier with them.

Only about a paragraph and a half further before the feeling is plaguing him again—a distracting, tickly electricity he knows is rearranging his features into a ridiculous expression somewhere between frustration and dismay.

“What Moore is saying is that any definition of morality put in terms of some natural property is a failure, because naht…”

A question, silently posed by a single twitch of nostrils, meets his executive decision that no he’s good it’s under control keep going, but his even cadence quickly becomes anything but—his voice wavering a little as he speaks, words inflating and floating away from him as he loses his grip on a sentence.

“Because natural properties—rightness, goodness, pleasurableness, et cetera—are halways liable to an oh-hoh—an open question and hokay actually I amabouttosneeze-excuseme—!”

He utters this last part in a speedy, rising panic and hurries to pull the mic from his collar and leave it dangling by the cord—a gasping breath is the last thing it relays before there’s a soft thud of static as it settles farther down his shirt, and Cal throws an arm over his face and lurches into his elbow with such vigor that he stumbles a few steps sideways with the entropy of it.

“DJIISSHHH’hu! Hh-! HehhdJESSHHhue!”

Harsh and percussive and probably still audible even without the assistance of the sound system, and there’s a chorus of bless yous after them both. It’s not the first time he’s been blessed by a class of three hundred and it won’t be the last, but it never fails to find him extremely touched by this synchronized demonstration of their attention and kindness.

“Hoo, thank you thank you,” he says when he picks up the dangling mic, about to clip it back into place when his breath falters (“uh-hih-?”) and his grip on his shirt collar does too, in favor of signaling his class with a shake of his head and the flash of a raised finger and then holding himself in place while he collapses into the other arm to muffle another exclamation.

“Huh-JEHHSHHhoo!”

More chorused blessings afterwards as he emerges from his sleeve with only a hint of sheepishness and a rake of fingers through his hair to untousle the locks he’s tousled loose.  

“Thank you!” he says again, committing to clipping the mic back on this time. “I think I’m dwindling down to the final sneezes of this cuh— of this cold, and I’m… I’m trying not to do that agaih-hin, um…” A couple of blinks as he wills himself not to, but it’s on the horizon and blinding him into a forced squint, and that fist-pressed-under-the-nose thing rarely actually works for longer than a few seconds, after which Cal can only shake his head again with a guilty smile and append his sentence; “and failing, sorryonemoretime—”

He wastes too much time with this warning to have a chance to take the mic back off again, so all he can do is put his hand over it, which does quiet him somewhat, in conjunction with burying his nose into the now somewhat dampened fabric of his blazer sleeve—to conspire anew with secret droplets hidden within the weaves of houndstooth—though a desperate vocalization still finds its way through the speakers.

“HAH-DZZIISSSHhyue!”

It seems to get funnier every time, to both Cal and his class, but he does feel his cheeks warm when he hears himself echo through the lecture hall. “Wow excuse me, I am so sorry,” he laughs. “Thank you for your blessings, and your patience. I’m definitely—snff!—I’m almost definitely done now.” A tissue is fished from his pocket and politely employed in a casual swipe beneath his nostrils, resisting how impolitely he’d love to perform this action and issuing a couple of unavoidable, staticky sniffles.

“Now, snffh! back to non-naturalism… oh, uh-oh, that sounds not so great again, hang on,” he says, sniffling sharply and clearing his throat, recalibrating to try again in earnest. “Moral non-nat-goddamnit.”

They laugh, he laughs.

“Moore’s theory is sometimes also referred to as intuitionism… but that’s not much better is it?” he asks, with a chuckle that crackles pointedly toward a cough.

He probably could have used another day to recover, but this won’t set him back any. Cal isn’t the medical kind of doctor, but he has a personal theory that returning to his life, the way it usually is, lends itself to speedier recovery. Maybe it’s because he’s an extrovert, or, admittedly, a little bit addicted to his work. Maybe it’s because he’s fortunate enough to do something he loves for a living. All he knows is that the energy of being here, with his class and their kind patience and their good-natured laughter, has curative properties of its own.

“Okay I think what I might do is give you all a five minute break, snffh! while I go blow my nose a bunch of times or something to try to remedy this. If that doesn’t work, unfortunately you’re just gonna have to listen to a very stuffy lecture—as in congested, I mean! Stuffy as in congested, not as in boring.”

[heartaspects]

I HAVE ANOTHER CHARACTER FOR BINGO IN LIGHT OF YOUR RECENT TAGS.

......

...bro strider

im being taunted now im so mentally ill about striders i am so so ill about them

i enjoy bro strider like one might enjoy watching a documentary about a murder of a family of five. this is to say i fully think he is horribly irredeemable and uncomfortable despite a circumstance that definitely broke him. difference between him and like, vriska, is that hes a grown man who cut a meteor in half, not a 13 yr old.

i am a dirk guy so naturally i would love to study him. i want to know how he got to be such a terrible dirk. obviously cal, but when i say "nothing i like about them is technically canon" im referring to speculation on what the beta guardians were like and how living in 80s texas would impact dirk as a person. with such a massive cast of characters there was never time in homestuck to focus on the backgrounds of the beta guardians, but its at the top of my "wish i could see in there" list

[phoenixyfriend]

Systems' Scourge: Addendum

I don't actually have an intent of writing more of Systems’ Scourge, but I do have associated daydreams specifically based around other surviving padawans and their legions coming back, which is deeply unfortunate, because neither Cal nor Kanan was actually aware of the fact that, you know, the clones were mind-controlled.

So they just wake up on Venators surrounded by all the clones that survived that far (which is a skeleton crew, because Palpatine doesn't care and kept replacing them with natborn soldiers), and have panic attacks.

The clones are also unaware of the fact that they turned because of chips, so they're not having a great time either. ("A chip in my brain made me do this" sucks but it's better than "I did this and I don't know why." So, you know, the 501st is a lot better off, honestly.)

Luckily, nobody gets shot in either circumstance, but it's a close thing.

Then whoever's on the bridge and handling communications just lights up because there is one other GAR ship showing up, so maybe they should ring that up???

They do. It's the 501st. Ahsoka issues all the orders--she's three years older than Kanan, and Cal looked even younger so I'll say he's five years younger than her--and the first thing she tells them is to get the CMO and do a level five atomic brainscan, because even if they aren't active, and nobody on the bad guy side really knows how to activate them, the chips are there and as the Tup incident showed, they can malfunction as a result of a head injury.

Which leads to a whole uncomfortable Conversation about brain chips.

Ahsoka has them route to rendezvous and explains the whole Thing with the time travel and getting bankrolled by Dooku and technically being terrorists but they're targeting criminal empires and slavers so it's fine.

I think Kanan and his legion show up about two and a half years after the 501st, and Cal about six months after that?

Enough time that she's older by an even bigger margin than before, and already married, and has had time to set up this absurd military game she's playing.

There's a tangent where she just complains about how Dooku keeps interfering with her personal life because she told him she was part of the lineage and it backfired because he made her have a big wedding instead of just the small Mando thing she and Rex were thinking of-- "Wait, you're MARRIED?" "I mean... I haven't been a Jedi since I was seventeen. Not exactly breaking the code if I'm not beholden to it in the first place, you know?"

"Yes, Dooku. I know. I know. But still. Dooku's gonna be all misanthropic and jaded anyways, let’s just direct that somewhere useful." The Dooku thing is the what has Kanan and Cal both hanging back on trusting her because really? Really, bitch?

They admittedly don't have the advantage of being his great-great grandpadawan for negotiating with him.

(Cal and Caleb were both just running around trying to survive as scrappers and whatnot for years after O66, and I recognize they were teenagers and even doing that much was phenomenally difficult, but I find it really funny that while they were just trying to keep their heads down and eke out a living, Ahsoka took like one year to be depressed and then went to Bail like "knock knock motherfucker, I know you're fighting the Sith, gimme something to do.")

Anyway this is mostly an excuse for the Republic and various others to freak out about the fact that General Fulcrum has acquired two more Venators and they still can't figure out where from. Kuat is denying up and down that they had anything to do with it, but...

"Those serial numbers don't exist. They won't exist for another... decade."

Also there are a lot of rumors going around, including that they're an offshoot of the Children of the Watch because everyone refuses to show their faces. The actual reason for that is because they all have Jango Fett's face, but they can't just say that so

Also I'm imagining that she bullies Dooku into at least trying to reconnect with Qui-Gon and Rael (the Komari situation is a bit more complicated), but what that turns into is:

1. Ahsoka has to go save Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan when they get captured by pirates, and she can't go as General Fulcrum so she has to go as Freelancer Mercenary Torrent (different mask/helmet)

2. She then has to reintroduce herself as Sokari, Dooku's adopted granddaughter and heir apparent, and they're side-eyeing her because she's definitely the same girl from the pirate ship but? Sure, okay?

3. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are then bullied into attending A Fancy Party in Fancy Clothes (which they hate) and Ahsoka drags Obi-Wan out and onto the roof halfway through because he's not enjoying himself and she feels bad.

4. All the masked security guards are just clones. Dooku lets that happen because, hey, he knows they're good, and they're all loyal to Ahsoka.

5. Rex joins them but doesn't take his helmet off, is introduced as Sokari's Husband, which is hilarious for both of the time-travelers because Obi-Wan's face does a lot of weird things as he tries to parse his new friend being married. He's pretty sure she's not that much older than him (he's underestimating, she's like eight years older than him), and also Dooku used to be a Jedi, and Ahsoka had shown some Force-Sensitivity and combat skills as Torrent, so... he'd been mentally processing her as equivalent to a padawan, and her being married is suddenly reminding him that Actually No.

[laketaj24]

Marked

Author’s Note: Hey! This piece was requested, and I decided to make it a few parts. So here is the first, and this part is based on one of my favorite songs, Slow Dancing in a Parking Lot. I really like hometown, slow country ass romances lol. So this is what I am giving you! I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy Reading! (My taglists and requests are open!)

Warnings: Public Sex, Fluff, Language, Dubcon, OMEGAVERSE

Pairings: Alpha!Henry Cavill x Omega!Reader

M A S T E R L I S T

“Hi.” You waved at your new neighbor. The small family of four seen you a total of seven times and still had not introduced themselves once. Where was the small-town charm you’d seen in all those movies?

The man looked to you first, tall and muscled he waved. “Good morning!”

“Morning!” You yipped, finally, some interaction. “Your family is beautiful.” Those were the only words that you could think of besides saying something about the weather.

“Thank you, how are you liking Longview?”

“Love it.” You lied. It had been two weeks, you’d left the house a total of three times and each time you got lost. “It’s beautiful here.”

The drizzle of rain started overhead, it always rained in Washington, maybe that’s why you stayed in all those days without hesitation. It was sunnier in Southern California, and there was always something to do, here it was the opposite.

“That’s wonderful,” he yelled before ducking into his blue minivan. Your neighbor waved quickly as he backed out of his driveway and onto the road.

The family next door was the only one for about five miles, besides the one across the street, and he never really made an appearance other than coming home from work. You liked to people watch, it was easy to do when there were only two houses to watch. You made your way back into the house, nursing the warm cup of coffee.

When you moved here, you were no stranger to the place. Summers had been spent here with your uncle, sometimes holidays, and upon his death, you inherited the house that gave you some of your fondest memories. Building a life here was what you were intended to do, and you didn’t really have a choice, it had all fell apart everywhere else you went. This inheritance was your one get of jail free card, and it came right on time.

Longview didn’t hold much, two grocery stores on each side of the town, one bookstore, three churches, and one bar called the Sly Tree. These things you’d remembered because they held an interest and you had planned to visit them all. Tonight it was Sly Tree.

 The yellow crop top looked good against your honey-colored skin and with the slight inch of your mid-drift showing it gave the illusion that you were a good girl who’d come to play, or at least that's what you wanted it to mean. Who knew if they took it that way, you sat at the bar. There were a few more people in the place, but none that piqued your interest. The bartender tapped your glass. “Refill?”

“I can’t.” you shook your head, there was no hope of you getting home safely with another drink in your system. “But thank you.”

“You moved into Harper’s old place?”

“Yes, he was muy uncle.”

“Good guy, he always came in here on Sunday’s spreading lies about wolves.” The bartender was friendly enough, the cute smile and wide eyes caught your attention, but he was young.

“He told me about those damn wolves.” You giggled. They were all around the property. Hence the reason you opted to not have a dog, coming home to a missing dog was not your intention.

“crazy man, good, though.” He handed you a sprite. “Drink this.���

“Thank you... what’s your name?”

“Cody.”

“Nice to meet you, Cody, is there anything fun to do around here?”

“A few towns over, maybe.” He shrugged a matter of fact and exhaled. “Hunting is pretty cool, though? You should come in one day?”

“I’m certain she doesn’t mean killing deer.” The smooth voice came from the right of you, the familiar face of your quiet neighbor actually brought some light to your life. Maybe you wouldn’t have to feel alone after all.

“Hey.”

“Hey, neighbor,” he smirked. “A beer, please.”

You’d never talked to him, only observed from afar, and there was much to observe. He was tall, strapping with broad shoulders, a body that made you think unsavory things and, unlike the family man across the yard, unattached. “So, you do know that I’m there?”

“How could I not?”

“You never speak.”

“Haven’t had the opportunity.”

“Opportunities have been available, Cavill.” You said his last name thinking of the gray mailbox it was engraved in.

“Hmmm.” He placed the bottle cap of the beer on the table and took a swig of the beer. “You like to hide in that house of yours, I didn’t want to bother you.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“I’m Henry, and if I am not mistaken, you’re Y/N.” Henry swiveled in his chair to face you. “Your uncle spoke highly of you.”

“That’s good to know.”

“So, you’re in a bar on a Wednesday at eight, cabin fever must’ve set in?”

“It did.”

His car smelled of cedar, and you loved it. You sunk back in the passenger seat and kicked your feet up on his dashboard. The small city passed by, and for once in your unsettled roused life, you felt at ease. There was only one red light but about five intersections that lead you in a circle.

“Where are you from?” Henry asked with his arm hanging out of the window, his fingers waving as the window passed through them. “Technically, I’m from Georgia, but I lived in California for almost four years.”

“So. Cal?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I didn’t.” he laughed. “But I’ve always wanted to use that abbreviation.”

“Good sentence, no one calls it that by the way.”

“Then how was it a good sentence.”

“I just didn’t want to diss you all the way.”

“Ah, the courtesy country girl, I lucked out.”

“Thank you.” You bit your lip. “You go to the gym often?”

“Never.” Henry laughed. “I run and lift trees.”

“All this comes from that?” It was impossible not to touch his arms, they looked terrific through the tight-fitting grey shirt.

“Five years of it, yes.”

“I guess I lucked out.” You whispered with a small grin on your face. “Where are we headed?”

“Right over there.” He pointed to the grocery store parking lot, and the car headed that way. You had never been parking, but you’d heard of it just not in a place this obvious.

“There are no lights in that parking lot.” You chuckled. “Choosing dim-lit places like this on purpose?”

“Definitely.” the half cocky answer was coated with sarcasm. Henry didn’t seem like that type. He parked the car and turned the music down. “Now, you tell me one of your favorite songs.”

“Does it have to be fast?”

“It’s totally up to you.”

“I’m drawing a blank here,” I said after a few seconds.

“I’ll pick one, you keep thinking.” He strolled through his phone, and then the slow music came through the speakers. henry climbed out of the truck, walked over to your side, and opened the door. “Dance?” He asked.

“I suck at it.”

“Good, I don’t have to whip out my Footloose moves.” He winked as he helped you from the truck into his hands. Sweet guys like him never seemed to come your way, not in Georgia, California, or any of the other places you’d been. He was novel.

He moved as if he actually could dance, pulling you against his chest and swaying playfully to the music. The song was lulling, complementing the atmosphere of the night.

“So, where’s your girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?”

“Someone as perfect as you have to be in a longterm relationship contemplating marriage.”

He laughed, shaking his head, his eyes flickering amber in the light for a moment and then back to their normal state. Henry’s fingers intertwined in yours. “I have no one, and if I did... I am certain you’d of seen her by now.”

“Just checking.”

“What else do you want to know?”

“What can you tell me?”

“I drink every Saturday night. I get in lost in the color brown, it’s the prettiest color... Trees, dirt all beauties often overlooked, but they’re the most important ones. I sleep with the air on me. I wake up super early, walk to the river and piss every morning. I like to sing in the shower, but I suck at it. I like you.” The vomit of words was the most alluring thing you’d heard since you came here. Henry twirled you around and pulled you back to him.

“You tell every girl you take home these same lines?”

“Just one.”

“You’re smooth with your lines Henry...”

“I can still break out my footloose moves if you want?”

“No need to...” You smiled. “This is better.”

“Good. I haven’t stretched just yet.”

You shouldn’t have kissed him, your hands shouldn’t be gripping his curls, and you definitely shouldn’t be hoisting yourself upon him, but here you were doing all of it and importantly enjoying it. Your tongue lightly swiped his lips before it was met with his and a small groan. Five hours ago, you met him. You didn’t know his last name or if even shared your beliefs, but you wanted to fuck him.

“How are the public indecency charges around here?” You whispered.

“I haven’t been charged with that one yet.” He carried you to the passenger’s seat.

“There’s a first for everything.”

“I know the sheriff.” he laughed. “I think I can get us out of it.”

Everything was rushed, but it didn’t stop you from deepening the kiss and tugging on his belt buckle.

“You sure you want this?”

You press your palms into the leather seat, and he pulls your pants down to your ankles. “I haven’t been sure of anything else.” You giggle as you rock your hips against him, grinding your mound against his hardened cock. He pushed your panties aside, rubbing the head of his cock against your lips and hoisted you up.

“You’re already wet for me, sweetheart.” he pushed inside of you, throbbing and suppressing a carnal growl.

You sunk your teeth into his shoulder when he pulled you down on his cock and began to fuck you. Then his eyes met yours, and they glowed in the dim light of the parking lot, it was surreal animalistic. “I’ve been thinking about this ever since you moved in...” He fucked harder, bouncing your tits in your bra. “How I wanted to fuck you and make you mine...” he grunted.

Your head fell back in ecstasy, and he rubbed his nose down your face before his tongue licked down your chest.

“Your fucking scent.” He growled, rutting into you. “You don’t even know what you are... sweetheart.”

“What am I?” You whispered.

“Mine.” Henry’s teeth bit into your skin, and you squealed. “Omega.”

His eyes shifted again in the light, and his teeth were still in your flesh.

“Omega?”

Your uncle used to talk of omegas, again when he was drunk... You pull away from him, but he continues to fuck you. “Henry.” You moaned. “Fuck! Henry!” You feel him swell inside of you.

Henry’s bitemark was fresh on your chest as was this inflamed urge to ride him harder, your body willed as if it could not stop. “Feel it.” He commanded. “Your body knows you’re mine too.”

“Ohh, fuck!” He grew bigger, swelling as he thrust faster and then locking into you. “Don’t cu-.”

Henry’s hand clamped down over your mouth, and he shuttered, your body shuttering, joining his climax. The warmth of his cum was soothing, fucking made you want to cum again. “Get dressed.” he kissed your lips. “Now.”

Henry Cavill Taglist: @oddsnendsfanfics​ @taytayize123​  @my-rosegold-soul​ @titty-teetee​ @sparklemichele​ @imgoldielikehawn​ @therandomthoughtsofmsparker​ @therealcalicali​ @rhys108 @shut-up-broccoli​@peculiar-monstar​ @sincerelysinister​ @xxpapasfritasxx​ @brexrif​  @sheismycherry​ @justgrits​  @angelic-kisses13 @ikeepforgettin​ @persephones24​

@bitchwhytho​​​ @ryuzakiackerman1​ @soapjay​​​ @szhead31​​ @sapphirescrolls​​​ @sprinklesandsugarcubes​​​  @superapplepie​​​ @ellaheart​​​ @greektragedyc​​​  @lovemindbodystuff  @cass-the-mess​​​ @auroussss​​​  @earl-aive​​​ @rockme-fabulous​​​ @mary-ann84​​ @angelic-kisses13​​  @wondersofdreaming​​​ @two-unbeatable-beaters​

@ieshaa96  @msmorganforever​ @magdelen69 @alwaysadreamingoptimist​  @zejess93 @singeramg​ @heelsamizayn​ @onmykneesforloki​ @scuzmunkie​  @laricebabe​ @queen-sands @minton131 @sciapod​ @a-really-bi-girl   @kittyslove  @kathhdd​ @only-isabell​ @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol  @mereka18

@queenmalhinewahine @sweetybuzz25​​ @xmother-mortemx​​​ @zoogrl05​​ @cap-barnes​​@itsmydreamlifethings​​  @love-more122​ @dearlybelovedluke​​​ @savismith​​​  @comfortingcreature​​​​ @badassbaker​​​ @hell1129-blog @keiva1000​   @la-meneur-louve @inthenameofrock​​​​ @i-love-superhero​ @vivodinson​​​​  @dealingwithit0214 @crowngold​​​ @violetidk​​​​ @virgodmood @magic-dust​   @kittyatemytaco @aykanna​​​​ @fcgrizi​​​​

@thewitcher-is-a-pandemic​​   @tonictransistor @itsmydreamlifethings​​  @lady-out-of-time​ @keiva1000   @this-is-serenaa  @mis-lil-red @captainslasher​​  @littlefreya​​ @snatchedbylele​​ @alyssaj23   @deep-in-my-thoughts13 @ohjules​​ @s-ravenall​​ @elixasays​​​

[ineedtobesmol5]

Hey guys here’s a low call recipe for french toast

tagging @just-w4nn4-be-th1n because you asked :)

toast: there’s 45 low cal sara lee bread that you can use from walmart (it’s 27 if you cut off the crust) use 2 slices

egg mixture: use 1 egg (so technically it’s 74 cal but i’m only gonna count half because you’re only really dipping the toast in it)

milk: use about 1/8 cup of milk (it’s 18 cal)

you can add cinnamon to that mixture or just pour some on top of the bread when it’s soaked in the mixture

sorry yall i’m trying but i’m really bad at writing recipes

recipe:

1. get a pan and put it on your stove and turn on your stovetop

2. mix up the egg mixture

3. fry the bread after dipping it into the egg mixture

4. well your all done! you can put it in a plate and add some low cal syrup (if you have any) or you can add 1 tbsp of regular syrup for 55 cal (2 tbsps is 110)

calories:

for the bread after being fried (with the crust): 140 cal

for the bread after being fried (without the crust): 104 cal

for the bread (with crust) with 1 tbsp of syrup: 195 cal

for the bread (without crust) with 1 tbsp syrup: 154 cal

let me know if you like it!!

[starshipsofstarlord]

Caught Backstage | 5th Second

Warnings; includes smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), embarrassment, second hand embarrassment,

Wembley Arena, one of the most famous places that a musician could perform. It was an honour to be welcomed onto that stage, and even more so that there were cameras around corners within the crowd, capturing the sheer joy imploding onto the faces of fans, and to top that all off, there was another reasoning for the lenses. A movie, technically the second one, but the first taking information from each member of the band.

It felt so surreal, there was an onslaught of adrenaline running through your veins as you held a chilled water bottle, drinking the cold liquid. You had yet to start the show, so there was still time to kill. One of the last times that had been recorded was when Mikey and Cal had been cinched by the snaking flames, it made you relieved that that idea had been scrapped for the future.

However, even though there was no fire nearby, there was a heat riveting inside of you, you had so much energy awaiting, but it was still almost an hour until you were called out to grab a guitar and stand behind a microphone. Those statistics made you huff, and so you walked into the dressing room that the five of you shared, only to see a single singer there. Luke.

Your partner was half laid on the couch, his phone grasped in one hand. As you entered the confinement, you ensured the door was closed behind your jittering presence, so that if you were to consensually pursue your primal urges, there would be a barrier, blocking out the view of anyone that decided to be a peeping tom.

“Missed you.” He mumbled, continuing to stare at the screen of his device. You sat beside him, his hand extending to your thigh and massaging the taught muscles, it was a comforting act, his lips pressing to the skin that the uprise of your shirt exposed also. Luke was the sweetest, and his statement made you laugh a little, not enough to trigger any insecurities, but enough to peak his curiosity. Although his phone was still in his hand, he was peering up at you.

“I was gone for twenty mins tops, and I still didn’t get my phone back from that asshole.” Crossing your arms was not the only sign that signalled that you were frustrated. Another was the crease that formed between your brows, which Luke reached up to try and rub away, at his touch you let the line shrink away.

“That’s better.” He spoke, throwing his phone onto the table in front of the couch, his hand coming up to brush any loose strands of hair that had absentmindedly decided to escape from behind your ear. “What did he want with it anyway?”

“He saw it as a way to piss me off, and for once Mikey was correct. Normally I wouldn’t be bothered, I’m so exhausted from our work, my mum wants me to visit her in (Your Home Town) and is getting annoyed that I can’t because business, and my dad’s getting the other end of the stick, she’s saying she should have never let him move me to Sydney with him. A part of me is slightly happy that Mike took my phone, but the other wants to rip his head off.”

“Would sex help ease your list of troubles?” It was blunter than the boy usually was when referring to the activity, let alone suggesting it. Your head snapped up to lock onto his smirking gaze, trying to decipher whether he was being serious or not.

“Here? Now?” Slipped past your lips, unsure whether the idea was that great of one. Sure, when you had entered the room, it had been an probable thought, one that had calmed you just from thinking about it, however it seemed risky.

It certainly wouldn’t be your first time having sex with the risk of being caught, the tour bus and hotel rooms were a green zone, however there were paid staff behind the scenes of the stage, working to make sure everything went perfectly and to plan. The aspect of two famous teenagers having sex on a sofa, in the band’s relaxing quarters wasn’t on the schedule. But what did they expect, as said, you were teenagers.

“We have forty seven minutes, there’s plenty of time.” Luke prompted, his hands beginning to undo his jeans which attracted your eyes to the area of his covered cock. However you didn’t stop his actions, instead you remained still, letting him shuffle his layers of concealing articles down his thighs, far enough to the point where he was revealed.

His dick lay heavy on his thigh, twitching slightly when you licked your lips at the sight. “Care to shed a little clothing too? I don’t think this is going to work if only one of us is half undressed.” At his suggestion, you too shimmied down your black skinny jeans and underwear, neither anything particularly eye catching or special to the moment.

Your pussy was left bare, and as you came to rest again upon the sofa, you hovered over Luke, your eyes cast down as he had his hand on the body of his length, his hand conducting the movements of his cock and how it rubbed sensually against your slit.

“Just put it in me!” You sighed, brushing your hair over your shoulder. As you commanded, Luke bottomed out inside of you, pulling you down on him by the waist, his face coming to rest closer to your own. “Oh.”

“You’d think you’d be less tight by now, not that I’m complaining.” He bit his lip ring, which encouraged you to lean forward and take the metal ring into your own mouth, sucking on the black accessory and the part of his lip around it. Then you began to move, bracing your hands on his chest as you brought your tightness up and down his erection, coating him in your pleased juices and the feeling elicited happy noises from the pair of you.

“Good, don’t.” You breathed, your eyes fluttering at all of the sensations that you were feeling from where your bodies interlocked. The bliss never got old, the passion remained intact through each day of your relationship, and it was presented to those who opened the dressing room door. They groaned because of the sex, but for a different reason than Luke had been.

“Fucks sakes guys.” Calum turns, not wanting to see two of his best friends in such an intimate moment, clearly not meant for their eyes. At his voice, Luke and you froze instantly, redness spreading from your cheeks all the way down to your necks and luckily clothed chests.

“Not again.” Ash shook his head, and you avoided the eyes of your bandmates. They laughed a little, but you and your partner however did not. “Did you two really have to do it in here?”

“We’ve never done it in a dressing room before.” You attempted to sass back at the drummer, but to your dismay, your voice came out as quiet and guilty. Not really the attitude that you were going for, but oh well.

“Can you guys give us a minute to get decent?” Luke asked, his hand flopping over his face, to which you prodded his fingers, trying to peer through them to find his ocean eyes.

“Sure.” Mikey dragged the word out, unsure how to deal with the situation. “I just came back to give your phone back (Y/N/N) And the sofa’s all yours when we grab dinner, I don’t want to sit on that thing.” He threw it at you, the object ending up right next to Luke’s naked thigh which tensed from the contact.

“Thanks.” A sheepish smile was exploited onto your lips, teeth showing through their parting in an awkward stance.

“We’re on in a bit, keep your hands out of each other’s pants until after the show please.” Calum spoke, still refusing to look at the two of you. A loud sigh was heard from him as he walked away, and you imagined it as a prayer to either make him blind for future instances in which they caught the two of you in such a position, or for him individually to never have the unfortunate luck of seeing you two as such ever again.

Taglist

: @coucoukayy

@reallygroovyholland

​ @faithhhsworld

@lukehemmingsleftnipple

@inocent-as-a-rose

@marvel-af

@kingxnichole

@winchestergirl907

[kinetic-elaboration]

July 12: Orphan Black 5x10

And so I have finished Orphan Black. The final episode was about what I expected: it finished up the cliffhanger, killed off the last of the bad guys, and established what everyone was up to afterwards, ending on a generally happy ending.

By this time, and not only because I took a few weeks’ break between ep 9 and this one, I don’t really care about any of the antagonists anymore. Also, while I knew they’d spend a while on Helena giving birth (she’s only been pregnant for 3 seasons lol), I wasn’t really so into watching that, so I was happy when all that was done. (I did like that Art was there with her and Sarah though.)

Stuff I liked from the ‘epilogue’ portion:

That everything wasn’t automatically perfect, and we do see Sarah struggling both with S’s death and with establishing a ‘normal’ life for herself and her daughter for, really, the first time.

Helena living in the Hendrix’s...garage I guess?? and that awesome yard space with lights that was between the two houses.

I knew she named her kids Arthur and Donnie and I don’t usually like that naming-after-another-character thing but in this case I kinda did? Mostly because of the line “it’s time you take the names of real men.” Also, Arthur and Donnie earned it.

That all of the characters got their little mentions or appearances at the baby showers, including people like Colin, Adele, Charlotte, etc. (Is Charlotte Art’s now???)

That the clones had a little talk about motherhood and their anxieties about it because even though that doesn’t speak to me personally, fertility and parenthood has been such a big part of the show, it was fitting.

The outfits, especially Cosima’s dress.

Alison and Donnie’s final scene. Where are they the best couple??

Stuff I didn’t like so much:

I’m never really a fan of ‘the whole show/book/movie was actually written by one of the characters’ trope. It was wild when I read The Outsiders in the 6th grade. I’m past it now.

Cosima and Delphine still together. I know! I know! Obviously they were going to be but ughhhh.

NO CAL. Technically he and Sarah didn’t really break up so where is he??? My two other Valid Couples were in the finale (Felix/Colin and Donnie/Alison) and it was so close to a three-for-three.

I get why Rachel’s story ended the way it did and it probably would have stretched credulity even more than some of the Supremely Happy Ending stuff did to have her join Clone Club at literally the eleventh-and-a-half hour, but I’m still bummed out that she just... disappeared into the ether at the point where I feel like she could at least START to bond with her sisters. There are so many kids in this family. She wants to be a mom. She’s finally earned her redemption and her place in the family. Maybe if she, like, just stopped in or something? I was never a Rachel fan but I still kind of wanted that for her.

Overall, though, everything was tied up very well. Perhaps too well? But at the same time, I respect it for not going grmdark and tragic at the end. It really said: these characters earned 15 minutes of a cute little garden party together, and you know what? They did.

[minimitchell]

5- “I thought we were friends.” please ☺️

Ben has four good friends in his life; the kind you tell all your secrets and keep for the rest of your life.

Him, Jay and Lola have always been friends; they’ve grown up with each other and have known one another since they were kids. Frankie on the other hand is a newer friend, who has joined their little ragtag group of people after Ben met her when he was helping out at an after-school club; she’s teaching other students sign language and they’ve immediately bonded over that.

And then there’s Callum.

They’ve been friends ever since Callum rocked up here in Walford with his weird older brother and even weirder dad a few years ago. They clicked immediately, easy banter and teasing flowing freely between the both of them, and it took no time for him and Ben to become really close.

Callum’s home life isn’t exactly the best so he spends most of the time after school at Ben’s house, or they’re hanging out with the others at the park or somewhere else around here. They become sort of like a package deal - where one goes, the other soon follows.

Things are damn near perfect until that one day - the night of Callum’s birthday party.

He’s finally eighteen, the last one of their little group to finally become an ‘adult’, and they’re having a party for him at Ben’s house. Partly because his own birthday was only a couple of days ago so it’s the perfect opportunity for a joint do and partly because Callum’s dad would never allow him to throw a party at their flat.

It took a lot of convincing and begging for Ben’s dad to agree to this but fortunately for them he had in the end - under the condition that they would get the house clean again before he comes back that Sunday.

Ben doesn’t want to toot his own horn but the party is definitely a success. Half of their year is here - singing and dancing and getting increasingly drunk. He takes a no doubt regrettable amount of shots with Frankie in the kitchen, presses in close to grind against Lola on the makeshift little dance floor in the living room and gets roped into a game of beer pong against some of the guys from their year.

More importantly though, he makes sure that Callum is happy. There’s a big grin on his face that hasn’t left all night, even if it got progressively less sober and more dopey as the night went on, and he seems to have the time of his life, laughing and shouting lyrics to cheesy pop songs with all kinds of people here.

He’s happy and that in turn makes Ben happy as well.

It’s all he could ever ask for.

When the last people eventually leave it’s close to four in the morning. Their friends are long gone and Ben can’t wait to fall into his bed and sleep, he’s that exhausted. He’s already dreading tomorrow’s hangover.

Callum is spending the night, not just because this is his party as well so they both have to clean up the mess tomorrow but because it’s just what he does. What they’ve done a million times before.

But there’s something different happening today.

Today, right there in the dark of Ben’s bedroom, where they’re both already tucked in under the cover, on the night after his birthday does Callum finally spill his biggest secret to Ben. The two little words hang in the air between them for a long moment while Ben thinks of what to say in response.

I’m gay.

It keeps replaying in his head; Callum’s careful, hushed voice now ingrained in his memory, probably forever.

Callum knows that Ben is gay as well. He’s been there for most of his figuring out, knows all about him fooling around with guys at parties and the casual dates he goes on sometimes. Ben always had a hunch, an inkling, that Callum was into guys but he never said anything about it, not wanting to push Callum in case he wasn’t ready to face that yet.

Apparently, all he had to do is wait him out and let him figure it out on his own.

It could be perfect as well. He could just tell Callum he understands and that it’s okay, that of course it doesn’t matter to Ben. And there’s that little, hopeful voice inside his head, he’s tried so hard to suppress over time, that whispers that maybe this crush simmering away inside his chest could be something more now one day.

Only, it doesn’t quite go that way.

He does say all the encouraging things to Callum, gives him the support he needs and deserves right now. But because Ben is just so fucking stupid and there’s still massive amounts of alcohol swimming in his veins, he also does the worst thing he could possibly do - he leans forward and kisses Callum. His best mate. And even worse, when Callum’s hands start wandering and tugging off his clothes he does nothing to stop him.

.

The next day is horrible.

There’s a pounding in his head that doesn’t seem to lessen even after he’s taken two Aspirin and drunk a large mug of coffee. The house is a mess and Ben is more than thankful for the fact that his dad isn’t coming home until later tonight. He probably knew what would greet him otherwise.

Ben got out of bed the second he was awake enough to do so, leaving Callum behind to sleep the rest of the alcohol off.

He can’t believe he was stupid enough to sleep with his best mate; stupid enough to get caught up in the moment and damn any consequences. Terrible consequences at that.

Because how can they stay friends after this?

How can they go back to how they were before when Ben knows how Callum feels now; how he sounds and what he tastes like.

He doesn’t want this to ruin their friendship, because it undoubtedly will. They’ll maybe decide to give it a try, Ben will ruin it like he always does and they’ll never want to speak a word to each other again. Or, they become something and in the end, Callum leaves because that’s all they ever do. No one ends up choosing Ben.

He doesn’t want any of that to happen.

Callum is the first person who completely gets Ben, in and out, often without saying anything at all. He trusts him more than anyone, more than Jay even, and Ben doesn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t have Callum by his side.

And of course he went ahead and fucked it all up.

He has already cleared the cans and bottles from downstairs, starting a load in the dishwasher, when he hears the stairs creaking and footsteps coming closer. It sets off panic in Ben’s chest because now is the time to decide whether he wants to outright tell Callum he’s at least a little bit in love with him or ask him to forget about the whole thing.

In a fit of pure panic, he does neither. He pretends nothing ever happened at all.

“Hey.”

Callum’s voice is hesitant, barely audible over the low hum of the radio Ben turned on in a desperate attempt to drown out his own thoughts. He looks over at Ben like he’s some wild animal he’s trying to approach, obviously wanting to gauge his reaction to what happened between them.

Ben doesn’t dare to look at him, can’t bring himself to face him right now, so he busies himself by getting another big trash bag from underneath the sink, avoiding Callum’s eye as much as possible.

“Nice of you to finally join me. You can get started in the living room, do some hoovering maybe. There’s crisps everywhere.”

Yeah, getting Callum into a different room, putting some much needed space between them, sounds like a good idea. At least, until Ben can figure out what to do to get out of this situation unscathed and with his dignity intact.

“I thought we could maybe get some breakfast? Talk a bit?”

Ben doesn’t answer immediately, mulling his words over in his head. He wants to say yes but he’s too afraid of what could happen if he does. Is this Callum wanting to let him down easy? Telling him thanks for this experience but I’m not interested in anything more?

He couldn’t even blame him really. Callum should go out and explore, figure out himself and what he’s into without being chained to someone else. Ben is glad he could give him a good first time - at least he thinks it was good for Callum, because it was pretty incredible for himself - but he’s under no impression that he won’t be just one of many for Callum.

As he should be. Because Callum is funny and smart and gorgeous in a cute way and he deserves to have a lifetime of romance and adventure. He deserves a line of guys falling over themselves to be with him. He deserves better than Ben; better than someone who already has quite the reputation for being an easy lay at school.

“I thought we were friends. Friends help other friends clean up before their dad gets back and yells at them for leaving the house in a state.”

It’s a flimsy deflection. Ben is all too aware that Callum knows his dad isn’t coming back until later. And although it’s close to midday already, they still have all the time in the world to clean up. There’s no reason they shouldn’t stop to have a hangover breakfast first - except the fact that Ben is a giant coward, of course.

“Are we?”

“What?”

Ben finally meets Callum’s eyes across the kitchen table and it’s immediately obvious that he’s said the wrong thing somewhere along the way. Because Callum’s face is hard, his expression unimpressed and mouth a thin line. There’s something softer in his eyes though; something sad or pleading maybe, betraying the thunderstorm clouding his face.

“Are we just friends? ‘Cause I don’t think friends do what we did yesterday.”

Ben blows out a breath, hand coming up to scratch at his face in a nervous habit. Apparently, they are talking about it now. This will all end in tears, Ben’s sure of it.

“Technically it was today.”

“Ben!”

They’re quiet for a long moment; the only sound in the room the whirring from the dishwasher and the radio playing some old song about heartbreak that hits a little too close to home right now.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Cal.”

The tone of their conversation seems to shift then. Callum’s face shifts from mad to something that looks a lot like defeat; like he’s not even considering this having a good outcome anymore. It makes Ben pause somewhat because it means there was hope there sometime before.

He’s trying hard not to latch onto that hope, because what if he’s mistaken?

Callum takes a deep breath, like he’s racking up the courage to actually say what he’s about to say, and Ben is scared but ready at the same time to cling to every word.

“I want you to say you don’t regret it. Because I don’t, not at all. I know we’re mates but I always hoped it would happen. I always hoped that when I was finally ready, it would be with you.”

Ben doesn’t want to let himself hope, still stuck somewhere between denial and self-protection. Just because Callum wants him too, doesn’t mean they wouldn’t crash and burn and ruin their friendship in the process.

“Callum, you deserve better than me.”

Callum walks around the kitchen table, stopping only when he’s standing in front of Ben, placing both of his hands on either side of Ben’s face to get him to look up at him. He has to fight the strongest urge to lean into Callum; it feels too good to have him touch him again like this. He’s only felt Callum’s touch a couple of hours ago at this point but it already feels like he can’t breathe without it.

“No. I deserve what I want to. And I want to be with you. And I think you want that too. Let's just give us a chance, yeah?”

Ben tangles his hands in the fabric of Callum’s white shirt, using his hold to pull Callum a step further into him. The doubts are still there, and they probably will remain rooted in his head for a while, but they aren’t as loud when Callum is looking at him like he is now.

“Yeah. Okay. Let’s try this.”

It’s hard not to be infected by the bright smile taking over Callum’s face at that, Ben trying to hide his own smile by scrunching up his face and looking at the ground as best as he can when his face is still being held by Callum.

He’s willing to give his best when it comes to this; to be the best boyfriend Callum could ever have. Because he wants him to be happy, and more so he wants to be the one who makes him happy. He’ll try at least.

Callum’s thumbs brush over the skin over his cheeks for a second before he leans into him and presses a kiss to his lips. It’s just a sweet, short peck but it’s enough to send Ben’s heart into overdrive, hammering against his chest in such a wild rhythm he’s sure Callum must be able to hear it.

When they part, Ben presses his forehead against Callum’s, not ready to let him go yet. It’s paradoxical - this whole morning he’s tried to tell himself they don’t have a future together and now that it’s within reach, under his fingers and on his lips, he doesn’t want to be without it ever again.

“You think cleaning the rest of the house can wait?”

Ben breathes out a laugh, letting go of Callum’s shirt so he can reach up and tangle their hands together, pulling him along with him out of the kitchen and up the stairs again.

No matter what happens in the future, they’ll figure it out.

Together.