#cal creates

[in-a-spring-way]

After the gunshots, the smashed radio, and relieved hugs in the empty hospital, Liam had said, “Let’s go,” and Theo followed wordlessly.

The wetness in his eyes stuck around. He didn’t care to wipe them; the dam could crumble if he did. There was some kind of fragility to Theo in that moment despite his strength, endurance, history, and everything else. Despite, despite, despite. He couldn’t even be frustrated at himself because of it. Something heavy covered his mind, threads of sorrow and grief sewn into a blanket of numbness. It almost scared him, feeling like that. Distress tied a knot against his sternum. Instinctual masking—a skill ingrained too strongly to abandon now—kept his hands from shaking, kept his heart from racing, but it didn’t feel like enough. Echoes of phantom pain crept up his forearms as if the black veins were still there. They weren’t. He kept glancing at the skin anyway, following the stretch down from his hands which somehow sat relaxed against his steering wheel.

Theo didn’t remember the drive to the school; he parked his truck mechanically, auto-pilot keeping his body moving when his mind wasn’t following along. It was concerning. There was safety in awareness, and yet he started missing everything.

He didn’t notice Liam’s gaze until a moment too late for it to seem natural. A foot already over the blacktop, Liam paused halfway in his attempt to climb out.

“Let’s go,” he repeated, and Theo didn’t follow. Instead, his eyes flicked away.

When he found his voice, it still sounded as stilted as it had when he spoke to Gabe. “You go ahead.” Liam’s pack—Scott’s pack—were surely waiting inside, and Theo had enough sense to know that the pardon they’d briefly granted him for the sake of a war wouldn’t last. It would be a pack reunion, a celebration, and Theo already felt disconnected enough without standing on the sidelines for their touching moment.

Liam stayed silent for a few beats. In the quiet, Theo glanced over to be met with an unreadable expression. Maybe he could’ve figured it out if he tried harder. He didn’t, instead waiting until Liam spoke. Almost abrasive, almost cold, but not quite there: “Are you leaving?”

Whether he meant the parking lot or Beacon Hills in general, Theo wasn’t sure. Either way, he answered honestly. “I don’t know.” Why would he stay, yet where would he go? The internal back-and-forth wasn’t unfamiliar.

Liam pressed his lips into a line then, looking at the school before turning to him again. After seeming to debate himself for a moment, he asked, “Are you okay?”

It caught Theo a little off-guard. Before he could try to think of any real answer to give, though, a response came out automatically. “I’m fine.” His steady heart concealed the lie, of course, but his low tone betrayed it. Still, he vaguely remembered digging the bullet out of his own shoulder at the hospital; physically, he was fine. That was what really mattered anyway. “Are you?”

Liam nodded dismissively, eyes somewhere else. “Fine.” Then, “Tired.”

With a slow nod back—even though Liam didn’t see it—Theo said, “Makes sense. You went through a lot.” Too soft. There was a hum in response. “…you should get in there before they think something bad happened.”

That seemed to wake Liam up, as if he’d forgotten where he was. “Right—“ He finished climbing out of the passenger’s seat, holding onto the edge of the door instead of closing it. A moment of hesitation followed before, “I need a ride home.”

A family full of people able to drive Liam home stood in that building and they both knew that. Part of Theo didn’t want to see any of them, including Liam, ever again. Another part couldn’t say no to their requests, as if that would ever mean anything. The same part always won out. “Yeah, I’ll drive you, Liam,” he said, quiet and knowing.

Letting out a breath, Liam nodded. “Okay.”

[aesnawan]

Kanan, Daffodils and Cherry blossoms

One of my favourite characters and the #1 on making me ugly cry ✨

[notbecauseofvictories]

Last post, I promise, but I do think it’s good and important to see local art (defining that term as broadly as possible) but in my experience you have to put up with the little kick of embarrassment you feel witnessing something too earnest, a little clumsy, not polished within an inch of its life or in step with prevailing trends.

I’m thinking of the dance performances I saw this weekend, but also last week’s street festival, where I watched short films and walked through local art exhibits; I’m thinking about Chicago’s outsider art museum, and even the elaborately decorated (ostensibly tacky) yards I see in rural Illinois, but South Carolina and Tennessee before that, and Michigan before that. Maybe I should cast an even broader net: my aunt’s cross stitch, my grand-aunt’s horrible poetry; the art they display at the nearby retirement community and the halfway house too, which comes from the residents.

If you’re not used to leaving space for that little kick, you might turn away or scoff at all this small, fumbling art. But I think there’s value in forcing yourself to look beyond that initial stab of secondhand embarrassment---to actually appreciate the art in front of you as an expression of something deeply human. You don’t have to think it’s objectively good, or even subjectively good. You don’t have to pretend that a local woman with a talent for oils is the next [INSERT FAMOUS ARTIST HERE]. But I do think you have to appreciate it, because otherwise there is no entrance into making art yourself.

And that, more than anything, is worth preserving.

[animatedjen]

Jedi Survivor Stances Single - Double - Dual - Blaster - Crossguard

[ponytailzuko]

one day 10 years from now im going to snap and im writing an accounting atla au where they're all in some sort of accounting field. like aang is the auditor in charge of doing the 100th annual audit on ozais company and just kills him (locks him up bc aang is a pacifist) or something I don't fucking know i can't take it anymore.

[your-unfriendlyghost]

Oh my god the curtain call song for the play is officially “People Are Strange”… which I know I heard for the first time in “Lost Boys” a few years ago. Jesus Christ the whole damn universe is telling me to watch this movie 😭

[flammabel]

Cal Kestis - Jedi Survivor

🍂🪶❄️?

How colours change the feel of a photo. 💙😊 Pretty Cal surrounded by pretty things.

[calypsolemon]

Creation of the Sun and Stars

[heather-collins]

🎧 Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks by The National ↳ requested by the magnificent @cal-daisies-and-briars

[in-a-spring-way]

Confession

“Rody.” Vince looked almost sick, and he breathed out the name like it was heavy. His cheeks were flushed from the alcohol he’d been drinking, eyes unfocused. The image of it made Rody on edge, but he pushed the feeling away as best he could.

Sitting next to him on that uncomfortable couch, he tried to catch his gaze. “Vince?” He didn’t move. Something tightened in his core as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I need to—“ The words halted in Vince’s throat when Rody put a hand to his forehead to check if he was ill, and he pulled away. “Rody—“

When he didn’t continue—seemingly not knowing how—Rody prompted him again, “Yeah?”

For a long moment, he stayed silent. Long enough that Rody opened his mouth to speak again. Then, “I’m sorry.” It sounded like he’d had to rip the apology out of his own mouth, like he was wrestling with himself. Rody’s stomach only tightened further, spreading to his chest. It felt like a deep, almost suffocating dread, but he didn’t understand why. He almost wanted to ignore the situation altogether, laugh it off as nothing. He knew he couldn’t.

“For what?” Vince’s eyes slipped closed, and Rody noticed how his hands trembled in his lap. Quieter, he asked, “For what, Vince?”

After opening and closing his mouth a few times, he just shook his head; lips pressed into a flat line, he looked at Rody again. “I understand it now.”

“Understand what?” Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he continued, “You’re freaking me out…”

“You loved her.”

In an instant, Rody froze. Nausea overtook his head; Vince sounded gutted. Still, he breathed out, “What?” When there was no response, he pressed on despite how his body screamed at him to stop: “What are you sorry for, Vince?”

With another shake of his head, Vince’s eyebrows pulled together in a way he’d never seen. Sadness looked unnatural on his face—especially this tense, frozen misery.

Rody rasped, almost too quiet to hear, “What happened to Manon?”

“I’m sorry, Rody,” was the whispered response.

He stood, suddenly feeling too restless and on edge to sit or stay near him. “Stop saying that.” After Vince just helplessly shrugged, shoulders far too stiff, Rody started to pace. His voice rose. “What happened to her?”

For a long moment, Vince was frozen still, face growing paler than usual. Once Rody tried to ask again, though, he moved, standing and rushing out towards the kitchen.

Rody followed, calling out, “Hey!” Vince only made it a little farther, though, before he had to duck over the garbage can and vomit. Standing feet away, Rody nearly wanted to join him, his entire body tensing even further. His breaths quickened as he rasped out, “Jesus.” Staring at Vince’s heaving back, he was torn between wanting to know exactly what the hell was going on, and wanting to run as far away from him as possible and stay ignorant. But his feet stayed stuck in place.

Between wet coughs, Vince hastily sucked in air, apparently panicking as much as Rody was. Whatever this was, it was bad, it was really fucking bad, and that feeling set in more and more with each second that they stood there until it became unbearable.

The fear fueled Rody’s sharp words as they pierced through the air, shaky fists clenched at his sides so he wouldn’t grab Vince like he wanted to; “What the fuck did you do to her?” When he only slumped over the trash can more, resting his forehead against it, Rody’s entire body started to tremble. “Where is she?”

“She’s gone.” His voice was barely audible, but the words might as well have been yelled. And for a long moment, the only sounds that followed were their equally uneven breaths. The room seemed to spin around the tunnel vision focus that Rody had fixed on him, and somewhere deep in his chest, he knew it. He’d felt it in every missed phone call, in every unreadable glance Vince had given him. Muffled in his ringing ears, Rody heard him admit, “She’s dead.”

If his legs weren’t too unsteady to carry him forward, and his heart wasn’t weighing him down and holding him in place, he would’ve grabbed him. He wanted to. It would’ve been easier to fly into a rage and attack Vince and not have to think about anything but hurting him back. Instead, a million thoughts and emotions clouded his head until they turned into white noise and brought him to the ground. Vaguely, he felt warm trails run down his face, but a thick layer of something heavy covered his senses; it took a moment for him to register them as tears. They streamed from his blank, blurred eyes, face otherwise unmoving. The seconds passed like years.

Then, everything rushed back into him at once, too loud and too vivid, and he screamed all of the air out of his tight lungs.

[treasure-goblin]

Playlist Oc Challange!

You shuffle your favorite playlist, and each song decides something for the oc.

1. Name meaning (then you find a name with that meaning you took from the song)

2. Their aesthetic

3. The cover determines hair/eye color

4. The cover determines clothing colors

5. Their personality

6. Their backstory

7. How their story ends

Side notes

- You will want to use the favorites playlist, not any specific playlist you made, but if you have a bigger, more diverse playlist feel free to use it!

- I would love to see art of the finished new oc, but don't feel like you have to! It's definitely not a requirement!

- make sure to tag friends and reblog!

Tagging @whiteperle3 @call-me-frosting-or-not-idc @autism-criminal @plateapus @sleepy-artist27 and @trippygalaxy because yall were interested in it.

An example of my own attempt is under the cut, in case you need help with formatting or what to include.

1. Millicent (Skal)

2. Gothic/dark fairy/witch aesthetic (medieval version of Havana?)

3. White hair and pale green eyes (golden hour cover)

4. Black/white/grey (piano cover of someone like you)

5. Depressed but pushing forward (number little bug)

6. Washed up and burnt out child actor and singer (Jump up super star)

7. She ends up finding happiness living a small, simple, hardworking life in a town where no one knows who she was but they love who she is now. (Dirt on my boots)

[animatedjen]

Cere and Cordova visit Pyloon's Saloon | Jedi Survivor (mod)

[mcyt-soulmate-sweepstakes]

Break Period? I Hardly Know 'er!

Good timezone, my fellow creators, it's Mod Cal! Submissions have just opened for the final round of Soul Searching, which means.... It's almost break period! Rapid-fire FAQ below the cut.

-- When is break period?!

Break period will begin when submissions close! That will be 6pm GMT, and we will post an announcement here! When break period begins, we will not be counting points anymore.

-- Wait, what does that mean??!

It means that we will be instating a point freeze! When break period begins, we will no longer be counting extra prompts for points. Break period will begin when submissions close!

This is to make sure that everyone is taking a good break from creating. We’ve still got two challenges left!

-- But my extension!!

We will still be counting points for pieces with extensions created for round three of Soul Searching! (just not extra prompts!)

-- Well ...what do we do, then??

During break period, take this opportunity to get to know your soulmate better! We, the Cupids, will be releasing daily icebreaker prompts for soulmates to chat with each other about. There is no requirement to answer them, but we highly encourage talking to your soulmate! The better you know them, the easier Mindmeld will be.

If there are any questions about the event, please forward them to our Tumblr inbox, or ask us on the Discord server! We will post the Mindmeld explanation tomorrow!

[kelpweedkelpweedingkelpweeds]

Writing an incredibly angsty marecal wedding fic (it's not them getting married) while my deer friend nokotan is blasting through my speaker

It's the spirit of bobbing head to "shikanokonokonoko koshitantan" while typing "I want to stab him through the heart. I want to kill him. I want to kiss him, like he's my only salvation. Because he might just be."

[sybaritick]

jokes about omii and I keeping someone as a pet crossed over into not passing as ironic any more years ago now but who among us has not posted several multi-paragraph text posts about catboy ownership

[docmccoy]

Pure Heroine turned 10 years old 3 days ago and I have been thinking about the retrospective ever since