#my Cal shelf

[flammabel]

Bringing Christmas to the Cal shelf and Cal to the Christmas tree. 🤗

[kindahoping4forever]

I mean, obviously

[astranauticus]

Do mechanites cry?

[breakfastteatime]

Got myself a little treat 😊

[goosewriting]

so to get into the star wars books i'm starting with sam maggs' jedi battle scars, which follows cal & co and takes place between jfo and survivor. i just finished chapter 3 and i'm kinda mad i didn't start reading star wars books earlier,, it's like reading fanfiction but, you know, it's canon? lol

also i'm enjoying maggs' style immensely. low-key feels like my own writing style for cal which... it's kinda weird but also strangely reassuring? lol

so yeah i'm reading these to get into sw books but also as research for my next fic which is about cal in the survivor game timeline. i wanna know what happened in between the games so i can properly reference it lol

[akagamiko]

finally played fallen order for the first time and merrin i am free on thursday. please call me when on thursday when i am free.

[underdark-dreams]

A gift fic for @catsharky featuring their beautiful bard Tav, Ember! Fueled by catsharky's mind and by the amazing art of Ember & blushy Rolan trapped in a closet 😳

Pent Up

"How long has it been?" As the new Master of Ramazith's Tower, Rolan finds himself short on personal time. Then he finds himself trapped up against the bard.

Tags: Trapped in a Closet, Tails, Touch-Starved, Explicit Sexual Content

Word Count: 4,383 [Read on AO3]

For all its wonders, Ramazith’s Tower offered a staggering lack of privacy. 

Perhaps few wizards had families; Rolan couldn’t think of another good reason why such a palace would have only one decent bedroom within its walls.

It hadn’t seemed like a hindrance the first days Cal and Lia moved in. They’d managed to find their alone time on the road from Elturel where privacy was nonexistent, hadn’t they?

After four weeks of Cal’s snoring and Lia’s constant tossing and turning in their beds beside his, Rolan felt like a bowstring ready to snap. Between the shared quarters and all of the newly inherited duties of managing Sorcerous Sundries, let alone cataloging the Tower itself, Rolan found himself…well. Out of time for his own needs. 

More bluntly, if Rolan didn’t get himself off in the next tenday, he feared he might actually burn down a wing of his brand new library from sheer sexual frustration. The thought didn’t even embarrass him at this point—that’s how absolutely desperate he’d grown.

And of course the dreams weren’t helping.

That made Rolan’s focus falter for a moment, and the books he was levitating to the floor above slammed into their shelf with far too much force. He cursed under his breath and concentrated fresh on the next stack of tomes beside him.

Of all the people for his subconscious to latch onto, why, why did it have to be Ember? He respected her and valued her friendship more than just about anyone’s. He looked forward to every moment he got to spend in her company, in fact. 

Yet lately, Rolan’s sleeping mind conjured up scenarios where he took her in every position on every surface imaginable.

Pressed into silky sheets—bent in half over his desk—on her hands and knees on the carpet, the wood floor, his own bed, Ember’s fists gripping the bedding beneath her as he—

“Hope you’ve got a good spot to hide up here!”

Rolan heard the jingle of bells behind him before he’d even turned from his work. Her voice sent a pang of mortification through him, as if she too might have glimpsed those images flashing through his mind’s eye.

Ember was dashing toward him from the Tower portal, still dressed in one of her stage costumes. She was barefoot save for a ring of little bells around each ankle, and her tail swung wildly behind her for balance as she ran into the room.

“What in the hells—” Rolan began, this time failing the final gesture of his spell. The tomes that he was carefully guiding upward lurched and crashed against the polished wood, toppling back down several floors. Rolan ducked aside just in time as they landed with a sharp thump at his feet.

“Explain,” he demanded curtly, knowing whatever story the bard had would be outlandish.

“That Aradin, remember?” Ember pulled up in front of him, clutching a stitch in her side. “Stupid bounty hunter? His crew’s downstairs. They seem very put out that he’s dead,” she added, letting out a breathless laugh. 

Rolan failed to see the humor. “You mean you led them here? From wherever you were doing your—” 

He tried and failed to find the right word, instead waving a hand around her figure. Ember’s attire revealed a strip of bare skin from her neck to her navel, and that sight had scattered Rolan’s thoughts around his skull like marbles.

“The Elfsong,” Ember supplied, not acknowledging his sudden fluster. “They didn’t recognize my stage disguise, but I overheard them planning to come here and shake you down for what’s owed them. You’re welcome for the head start,” she added, propping a fist on her hip.

Rolan tried to ignore the attitude as he bent to pick up his damaged books in a huff. “They do know Lorroakan’s dead too, correct? Whatever contract they had with him was never any of my business.”

Ember spread her arms wide in impatience. “I know that, Rolan, but they’re fucking idiots!”

“Let’s just call Aylin to stomp them to death,” Rolan muttered savagely, not altogether joking. 

Rolan had fended off Aradin’s rude threats for his entire apprenticeship, and now that he was Master of the Tower himself, he was in no mood for more of that lot barging in and demanding things. After watching the aasimar dispatch Lorroakan, Rolan suspected that Dame Aylin would share the feeling.

“Nice idea,” Ember allowed, “but unless you’d like blood on your new carpets, I suggest we make ourselves scarce. Like now. You know you’ve still got a portal down there practically labeled ‘Real Nightsong Hunters This Way’?” 

This brought Rolan up short with a curse; Ember had a terribly good point there. He could kick himself for not having the sense to fix that glaring security risk before now. 

Considering the slew of Gazette articles speculating wildly about how Ramazith’s Tower had fallen into his hands, perhaps it was wise not to add any other deaths to his first month as Master.

When he straightened, Ember was already casting around the cavernous interior for a suitable hiding spot. “There,” she pointed up suddenly. 

Apparently done trying to urge him on with words, Ember’s fingers clasped over his, and the next thing Rolan knew she was dragging him bodily up the staircase. The books under his arm tumbled again to the floor. 

Through his surprise, Rolan felt something wet between their palms. He glanced to find that her hand was spattered with blood.

“Did they hurt you?” Suddenly furious, Rolan nearly stumbled on a stair behind her. A handful of defensive spells sprang white-hot into his mind.

“Oh, no—” Ember dismissed the idea. “It’s not mine.”

That only raised more questions, but there was no chance to form them as she yanked him onto the open landing. When Ember made a beeline toward the narrow door between two ornate shelves, Rolan tried to object. “That’s only a—”

Ember threw the door open and practically shoved him inside. 

“—closet,” Rolan finished deadpan, even as the bard jostled in behind him, swinging the door to its latch behind her. The space was comically small with two people.

Or it would have been comical with someone else.

Instead, Rolan found himself suddenly pressed up far closer to Ember than he ever had been outside his own mind. Standing chest-to-chest, he was painfully aware of every spot where their limbs brushed together—especially when her hand accidentally swung against the robes at his thigh.

It finally made her pick up on the tension radiating around him. Ember cleared her throat, although her eyes were sparkling with amusement. “Unless you’ve got a better idea?” 

“No,” was all Rolan had time to say before the whirling sound of the portal below traveled up to their ears. The two of them froze still. Ember's eyes on his face went wide, as if it might help her hear behind her better.

Over Ember’s shoulder, Rolan could only see a thin vertical sliver of the lower dais through the crack in the closet door, but it was just enough. 

Into the room shuffled two men, one dark and one fair. Rolan indeed thought he recognized them from Aradin’s crew back at the Grove. They moved warily across the central floor with hands near their weapons, as if expecting an ambush. When the blonde-haired man turned slightly, Rolan glimpsed two fresh streaks of blood running from his nostrils. 

Almost as if someone with quick reflexes had jammed the heel of their hand against his nose in a defensive move, bloodying their palm in the process.

“I see,” Rolan whispered, partly to himself. “Any chance you instigated this whole thing?”

“He deserved it,” Ember whispered back with vehemence. “He called you a—” 

Their eyes met for a second, and just as Rolan’s heart began to pound at how close her face was, she glanced away.

“Let’s just say he had Aradin’s vocabulary,” Ember finished.

So she had bloodied a man’s nose to defend his honor? He should find it absurd, but at this moment, all Rolan could think was how pretty Ember looked with her jaw set in righteous indignation like that.

“I’m flattered,” Rolan told her, only half-joking. He glanced back through the crack in the door, partly to distract himself from her again. 

The two thugs had quickly given up any pretense of stealth in favor of searching the premises. Their unguarded footsteps were enough to track them, and after a short verbal exchange those heavy treads spread out to explore the floor below—far from Rolan and Ember’s hiding place.

“What if they steal something?” Ember whispered suddenly.

Of all Rolan’s concerns right now, that was by far the least pressing. “The stuff they’re looking for is all down in the vault. But I’d love to see them try, this place has enough defensive enchantments to flatten a troll, some my own magic. They’ll get knocked out if they so much as crack open a book. Though I doubt they can read,” Rolan added.

That made Ember laugh, a breathy and quiet sound—Rolan felt it against his cheek and hoped she wouldn’t notice the way he swallowed hard at the sensation. 

With the two intruders blundering about so loudly, it suddenly seemed like an unnecessary risk to keep the door cracked open to watch them. In one move Rolan reached around Ember’s arm for the doorknob, pulled it shut, and muttered a quick incantation. The lock glowed blue-white with a series of clicks, now magically secured from the inside.

It was a slight change, but it somehow made the cramped space feel far more intimate. The light streaming under the door was just enough for him to make out Ember’s face a mere foot from his own. 

Shelves packed with broken baubles of unidentified usefulness lined the walls around them, muffling the sound in the small space, everything but their breathing. Ember was close enough that Rolan felt her every exhale tickle his cheek.

“Now I guess we wait,” she said. 

Rolan nodded, then remembered she might not be able to see. “I suppose. Hopefully those idiots lose interest fast.”

“What about Cal and Lia?”

“They’re both at Alfira’s,” Rolan answered. Worry ran through him for a moment, but they wouldn’t be back for at least an hour. By any luck Aradin’s old crew would be long gone by then. Good gods, please. Rolan didn’t think he’d survive an hour in a confined space with Ember’s body brushing up against him without doing something immensely embarrassing.

There was another muffled pause as they both shifted on their feet. One of Ember’s bells gave a tiny jingle.

“So…what’s new with you?” Ember’s quiet voice shook with mirth. This whole situation was apparently all good fun for her.

Rolan found himself enjoying it for his own reasons, but not any he remotely wanted to admit. The slashing neckline in Ember’s shirt offered a very generous view of her chest from this angle, and it took most of his concentration not to stare. He shifted again in an effort to put more space between them—with little success.

“Nothing but the usual,” he told her, grasping at the distraction. “Organizing Lorroakan’s hoard of magical artifacts, putting the library in proper order. Preparing the Tower’s defenses for the army marching down on the city any day now.”

“Sounds stressful.” Ember frowned at him a bit. “Don’t you take any time for yourself? Have a little fun?”

“When exactly would I have a chance to do that,” Rolan laughed mirthlessly.

And that was precisely the problem, wasn’t it? 

As though Rolan’s subconscious hadn’t taken over after enough inaction on his part. As though exactly four nights ago he hadn’t experienced a dream shockingly similar to their current scenario, one where dream-Ember had instead dropped to her knees with lovely lips parted to take him.

As though Rolan hadn’t jolted awake at midnight, sweaty and tangled in his bedsheets, hard cock in his own grip—

That alarming line of thought was interrupted when one of Aradin’s men called to the other. This time, the voice came from just a few meters outside the door. 

Both of them froze at the sound. Rolan’s mind was actually distracted by the threat of a confrontation, though only for a moment.

Whether from nerves or something else, Ember’s frame shifted in closer against his. He thought he could almost feel the heavy beat of her heart through the muffled and dim space.

The motion notched their bodies together in a new way. With his next smallest of movements, Rolan felt one of her thighs nudging in between his legs.

No—no no no, not now—

Yet blood was already rushing south of his waist in a primal reaction to the contact. Rolan clamped down with all his mental training, willing his body not to do anything so humiliating while she was trapped up against him like this with potential danger just outside. He conjured up thoughts of death, and pain, and anything that might distract his touch-starved body from the destination it was already barrelling towards headlong. His tail tip flicked eagerly behind him, and he coiled it around his calf to hide his tell.

But she was so firm and warm against his groin, and despite his best efforts, Rolan felt himself stiffening against her under his robes. 

Ember’s eyebrows rose silently. Rolan felt the hottest blush blooming all over his face in response.

“Ignore that,” Rolan whispered curtly. Looking at any part of her only made his face burn even more, but it was hard to find anywhere else to look in their close quarters.

Ember bit and released her lower lip. “That’s going to be hard,” she whispered back. 

Her choice of words made him wish the floorboards would open up and swallow him. Gods, this was humiliating. 

“Do you always get this excited from the thrill of danger?” Ember continued in a teasing whisper.

“Now’s not the time,” Rolan hissed at her, trying to ignore the way she had angled herself slightly against his side. 

“Or maybe it’s the close quarters—”

“Hush—” Rolan was genuinely trying to listen, unsure whether the intruder had moved away or was close enough to hear their whispered exchange. He was in no state to concentrate on spellcasting at the moment.

As he strained his ears, one of his arms nervously bumped against Ember and actually grazed the soft curve of her breast. Her breath hitched against his ear.

Fucking hells. Rolan thought every bit of him could melt on the spot—all but the length between his legs, which was now hard as a rock against the side of Ember’s hip. Rolan tried to shrink back further against the shelving behind him, but there was nowhere left to go. 

Ember certainly made no move to give him space. “Didn’t know you had it in you,” she whispered coyly. “Honestly, I’m flattered.”

“This isn’t because—” Of you, Rolan wanted to tell her. But that seemed rather insulting, not to mention a bald-faced lie. He let out a shaky breath. “I’ve…not had much time to myself lately, that’s all.”

“Oh,” she replied. Rolan could practically feel Ember’s eyes on the side of his face. “Oh.”

A pause followed in which Rolan stared up at the dark closet ceiling and wished to disappear. Outside, there was a more distant crash and a yelp—one of the idiots triggering an arcane trap, no doubt. He felt a twinge of satisfaction. They were the whole reason he was stuck in this predicament.

“How long has it been?”

Rolan glanced down at Ember, whose face was tilted toward him sincerely.

“A few weeks,” he mumbled, then looked away again. “Almost four.”

“Damn,” Ember whispered.

“Yes,” Rolan said stiffly, continuing to avoid her gaze as prickling heat climbed up his neck. “So if we could just—wait here quietly.” 

Ember let out a low, thoughtful hum. Something about the sound made Rolan’s palms sweat where they hung at his sides. 

“How quiet can you be?” She asked him.

It took Rolan several moments to catch her meaning. He blinked at her in shock, certain she must be trying to tease him again. “What do you—”

“Because we’re alone right now,” she interrupted. She spread her palms to each side, as far as the cramped walls allowed. “And you've got nowhere else to be at the moment, right?”

She was so close Rolan’s eyes had to flick back and forth between hers. “That’s insane,” Rolan said hoarsely.

“Is it?” Ember sounded quite serious, though she kept her tone to a whisper. “Listen, Rolan, you’re not subtle. I’ve noticed, everyone who cares about you has. You’ve been impatient, and snippy, and Lia said you keep forgetting projects in the middle to start new ones.”

“When did you talk to—”

She didn’t slow for his question, and Rolan felt her hand actually curl up over his shoulder. His skin glowed with heat under her touch.

“For your own sanity, you need to get off,” Ember finished.

“I’m not going to—while you’re standing right here,” Rolan choked out. His mouth refused to repeat the phrase.

Ember was so close that he actually saw the color travel up her cheeks. “Rolan, seriously…you’ve been staring down my shirt every ten seconds. And you’re practically impaling me with that thing in your pants.”

All Rolan could do was squeeze his eyes shut with a small groan of humiliation. “I’m sorry.”

“You don't need to be sorry,” she told him, and with his eyes closed, he heard a new note in her voice. “I’m telling you I can help.” 

As she spoke, a soft hand closed across Rolan’s mouth. 

His eyes flew open in shock to find hers. Ember’s luminous blue-gold gaze looked at him from under her lashes, sending a wave of heat rippling and licking across the skin under his robes.

With heart pounding in his chest, Rolan connected the dots. She could help. She could keep him quiet.

As his breath panted faster under her hand, Ember tilted her body slightly against his. Before he could think, she moved her free arm as if to reach between his legs.

Rolan shook his head frantically. If she touched him there, this would all be over. Not to mention…some small part of his mind admitted…he wanted to feel Ember’s hands there for the first time under different circumstances. Some night when he could take his time with her on even footing.

She had withdrawn her hand immediately at his indication, resting it gently around on his back instead. It was almost a sweet gesture—until she used the leverage of her pressed palm to roll her hips very slightly over his trapped thigh.

The small motion slid his hardness against her side through layers of clothing, and the simple friction made him throb. Rolan moaned at the back of his throat and felt the vibration stopped up by her hand. His tail had uncurled from his leg to shudder and flick in excitement again, nearly knocking something glass off the shelf behind him. Desperate to keep quiet, Rolan wound his tail up Ember’s leg with the tip brushing against her thigh. 

She bit one side of her lip in response. At that sight, had her fingers not been clasped firmly over his mouth, Rolan would have closed the distance to kiss her.

While he panted and wished, Ember’s hand trailed down the back of his robes with no particular goal in mind. But when her fingers met with bare skin at the base of his tail, Rolan jerked involuntarily as a strangled groan rose from his chest. 

The fingers of her other hand clenched tighter over his mouth. Ember stared at him, eyes wide with surprise and something like delight. 

The last working bit of Rolan’s brain recalled her upbringing among non-Tieflings. Was it possible—could she not realize what a very sensitive area that was?

She appeared to be getting the picture either way. Without moving her hand from his lips, she curled four fingers ever so lightly to cup around the base of his tail.

“Wait,” Rolan managed to gasp out against Ember’s hand, and she slid it down to his chin. His length throbbed painfully against his trousers, pressing obscenely into her thigh, yet she made no move to adjust positions.

But Ember did hesitate as she watched him. “Does that hurt?”

“No, hells—” Rolan shook his head in a daze. “Far…far from it.”

Ember looked over his face with almost curiosity, and then her lovely fingers squeezed slightly around him.

“Wait!” Rolan repeated, and his tone shot up to a quiet whine. He was past trying to control his reactions, trembling and heated with weeks of pent-up desperation, but it felt vital to salvage what shreds of his dignity remained before she tipped him over the edge. And she had him very, very close.

“This isn't how I wanted—with you—but it’s been a gods damned month between everything, and Cal and Lia—and I’m master of the Tower now, and there’s the Absolute—”

Whether or not Rolan’s whispered and disjointed rambling made any sense, Ember had the grace to watch him from under her lashes until he sputtered out. In the next moment, she uttered the sultriest thing he’d ever heard. 

“Honestly, Rolan, I just want to watch you come all over your robes.” 

With that, her grip tugged firmly at the spot where his tail met his ass. 

If not for her other hand clamping over his mouth again in the same motion, Rolan would have let out the most humiliating whimper of pure relief. Instead the noise was a muffled strangle of sound as his body gave her exactly what she wanted.

With a full-body shudder, Rolan twitched and spilled inside his trousers. His fingers clutched and dug at Ember’s hips with a mind of their own, pulling her forward shamelessly, allowing him to finally grind against her thigh in earnest as he came.

The wave of long-awaited release shot all the way up his spine with an intensity that made his knees buckle. Ember pressed his hips back against the shelves with her own just enough to catch him, sending the precarious tinkle of metal and glass around the small space—but her hand pumped a few more times over his tail to tease every last wave of pleasure from between his legs.

Rolan’s limbs trembled and shook from the force of the most satisfying climax he’d had in years. As white stars behind his eyelids popped and cleared, hot, sticky spend pooled in the fabric between his legs…then rapidly turned cold and mortifying. All Rolan could do was hang his head over Ember’s shoulder and pant against her hand.

At this moment, he’d give half his tower to know a good Banishment hex.

But if Ember was put off by his loss of control, she certainly didn't show it. Instead she let out a sound like a satisfied purr; she finally released his twitching, oversensitive tail to wrap both arms around his neck.

Rolan felt drunk in his afterglow, too spent to do anything but loop his arms around Ember’s waist and bury his flushed face into her shoulder. He realized through the haze that he'd heard the portal activate a while ago, though it hadn't registered then. They'd been alone in the tower for some time.

“Feel better?” Ember asked, her cheek resting against his shoulder.

It was difficult to answer. On the one hand, he could sob from the relief. On the other, Rolan had just done the most unimpressive thing against the leg of the very woman he wanted to impress most.

But Ember hadn't pushed him away in disgust. She was even closer than before, the length of her body pressed up comfortably against his as she hugged him. If not for the cold wet stain soaking from his clothes into hers, the position would be quite nice.

Rolan cast a simple spell as his energy returned, and the fabric between them was instantly warm and dry again.

“I've felt worse,” Rolan admitted as he reluctantly drew her away. Ember had begun to feel a little too nice pressed up against him; he wasn't taking any chances on a repeat.

“Good.” Ember looked down to brush herself off a little, and Rolan wondered whether he was imagining the darker color in her cheeks.

Without another word, Ember wheeled to open the door and accidentally thumped up against the unyielding wood. “Ouch—”

“Sorry,” Rolan said hastily, releasing the arcane lock with another quick spell and a flash of light. The door swung open.

They both stumbled slightly on the way out, blinded by the daylight streaming through the highly arched windows after so long in a dark enclosed space.

Ember walked ahead first with a hand shielding her eyes. “Well, looks all right out here…they didn’t try to trash the place, at least.” 

Rolan glanced at her to respond, then stopped short.

He gaped open-mouthed at the back of her. From between the seams of her costume, Ember’s tail looped up in a perky and exaggerated S-curve. The sight was utterly adorable and incredibly tantalizing all at once. It also offered a very nice view of the curves of her hips, and Rolan could only blink and swallow hard as his mind whirred through several possibilities to land on the obvious one.

Had she enjoyed that?

Apparently unaware that her tail was curling and swaying at him in a come-hither motion, Ember turned back to him with a bright, unsuspecting smile. Rolan rushed to compose his face.

“You should come to my show this week,” she told him. “It’ll be fun. Bring Cal and Lia, relax a little. You’ve gotten all pent up in here,” Ember added, waving an arm around the cavernous tower.

He would say she had no idea, but in fact, Ember now knew intimately well. 

Thanks to the electrifying realization that she had some feelings of her own about the matter, Rolan was able to manage a shaky laugh. 

“I might just chance it.”

[kazanskys-mitchell]

jj do you have an icemav headcanons???

thank u for asking cal i have so many (this isn’t even all of them i dont think)

- ice fell first, mav fell harder

- mav likes coffee, ice likes tea better but will drink coffee occasionally

- mav loves when ice pulls rank on him, it’s definitely a turn on for him

- ice was pining after mav SO HARD in the first movie and you can’t change my mind

- in the locker room after goose dies, i fully believe ice wanted to give mav a comforting hug but couldn’t bring himself to do it

- they both think that the other person is the better pilot but they’ll never say it out loud

- being the little spoon is ice’s favorite thing but he’ll never admit it

- mav will absolutely climb on the counters to get stuff out of kitchen cabinets. ice puts stuff on the top shelf just to spite him

- ice can cook, mav can bake

- ice will work through any sickness no matter how shitty he feels. mav will also, but then he’ll get so sick from overworking himself and make ice take care of him (and complain the whole time)

- mav has ridiculous pet names for ice, meanwhile ice sticks with the classic pet names for mav

- ice is always really gentle with mav (sexually and not) and mav loves it but also loves to be manhandled

- mav loves pda, he gets ice to love it too (it takes a while but he’s successful)

- i firmly believe that mav is a house husband and loves to do things around the house for ice

- mav is a horrible driver, therefore ice drives them everywhere

- as they get older, ice is silently insecure about himself once the grey hair starts to show, and mav is always reminding him how much he loves him (in more ways than one if yall know what i mean)

- mav calls ice “tommy” just for laughs because he knows it annoys ice

- they can’t sleep without each other

- mav wears his ring on his dog tags, and ice wears his on his finger

- ice loves to splurge and buy mav gifts whenever he can

i definitely have more but this is all i could think of rn

[kraviolis]

the whole rule about jedi not marrying & not having children isnt because those are seen as paths to the dark side, its because those kinds of relationships are the biggest source of fear in the entire galaxy. and letting yourself bend to your fear is the first step on the path towards the dark side. with how many jedi there were, it wouldve been impossible to individually check in on and monitor any jedi who chose to have a family, so it was better to just enforce the rule of no attachments.

like kata said— her father only began to change when her mother died, because bode started letting his fear of losing kata control his actions. he was terrified of losing his entire family again, like he lost the order. thats when he began turning to the dark side, when he allowed his fear to cloud his judgement. he stopped thinking of kata as her own person, but more of a special item he possessed. as if he could just put her on a shelf or tuck her away into a box and hide her to keep for himself.

because he was not thinking about kata’s life & future when he took her to tanalorr. he wanted her safe but wasn’t taking her happiness into account. what if she got sick or injured and needed a doctor? what about her schooling? or friends? did he expect her to just… grow up completely alone, with only her father as company? she was already scared and lonely even after just a few hours of being on tanalorr.

its actually heartbreaking that in the post-story game, when she’s living with cal and merrin and greez, kata seems so much… brighter. responsive. not happy, per say, but she’s not scared and she’s not lonely. she talks about learning to cook from greez and learning botany from pili and how she thinks its funny that people are scared of merrin and sings a song her mother taught her and doesn’t even ask about her dad.

in bode’s desperation to make sure kata was safe, he neglected to realize that she had her own thoughts and feelings and opinions. he forgot that she wasnt just a blank slate for him to project onto. he forgot that she was a real person and not just a doll. the way he talks about her sounds so sweet at first, but after the betrayal… the way bode says “my little girl” feels almost exactly the same as anakin saying padmé’s name in ROTS.

[elliespectacular]

Happy nearly 10-years of The Vev Nungaround - I have had this idea in my head for years and decided to make it a little animation!

Audio source

Music source

Transcript/description under the break

Homestar Runner fan animation with characters rendered in a polygonal flat-color style. Audio is from a review of The Velvet Underground's debut LP by theneedledrop, wherein Anthony Fantano talks to his roommate/alter ego Cal Chuchesta. In this animation, Strong Sad is depicted is Anthony and Coach Z is depicted as Cal. Kansas Mash from the Homestar Runner Official Soundtrack plays softly underneath.

Coach Z stands in Strong Sad's bedroom doorway wearing a pair of orange aviator sunglasses. A poster for The Cure's "Boys Don't Cry" is visible on one of the room's purple walls. As Coach Z speaks the view briefly cuts to Strong Sad looking blankly back at him, a rendering of The Velvet Underground & Nico visible on the wall as well as a record shelf containing B-est of B-Sides by Sloshy.

COACH Z: If you're gonna be reviewin' a super cool band like The Vev Nungaround, you're gonna need me--mehs--my super cool sunglasses.

View cuts to Strong Sad who is now wearing the sunglasses.

STRONG SAD: I couldn't possibly accept your cool-guy sunglasses.

View cuts back to Coach Z who is no longer wearing the sunglasses.

COACH Z: But you are... Right now.

Strong Sad places his hands on the side of his face in disbelief and makes an excited expression as the view cuts back to Coach Z, who waves his arms back and forth while sliding down toward the bottom edge of the screen.

[poisonlove]

Miss ortega | j.o

Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

part 5

An excruciating headache pulses through my temples, interrupting my dream. I release a frustrated groan and squint my eyes, sitting up on the bed.

I stretch and yawn, rubbing my eyes with one hand.

How on earth much did I drink yesterday?

I widen my eyes and look around in confusion, immediately realizing this wasn't my bedroom. I blink and instinctively lift off the black linen sheets, sighing in relief when I see that I'm still wearing the same clothes from yesterday.

The room was quite spacious, simple, and rather charming, I must admit. The king-size bed was very comfortable, a wardrobe stood next to it, and a door, presumably leading to a bathroom, was right in front of me.

I turn my attention to my phone on the nightstand, pick it up, and put it in my pocket. I hear some background noises, so I step out of bed, walking in my socks towards the sound.

Slowly, I open the door and look around the room. In the living room, Professor Ortega is sitting on the couch, watching TV with a blanket draped around her shoulders.

Jenna?

The sound of my footsteps catches Jenna's attention away from the show she's watching, and she turns towards me with a smile on her lips.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Jenna jokes, getting up from the couch while still holding the blanket around her body.

She looks absolutely adorable, like a burrito.

I place a hand on my temple, feeling a sudden pang of pain. Jenna looks at me with concern and a hint of reproach.

She walks to the kitchen, which is literally adjacent to the living room, and opens various cabinets, searching for something. She stands on tiptoes, grabs a glass from the shelf, takes a bottle of water from the fridge and pours some into the glass, then puts the bottle back in its place. She takes a pill from a drawer and walks over to me with everything in hand.

"Here you go... you were pretty beat up yesterday," she makes a grimace with her lips and hands me the glass and the pill. It's a Tachipirina (a pain reliever). I thank her and swallow the pill, hoping it will take effect soon.

She timidly takes my hand, leading me to the couch. The sensation of her hand around mine makes my heart skip a beat. Professor Ortega removes a few cushions and sits down, inviting me to do the same.

She breaks contact between our hands and picks up the remote, turning off the TV. She wraps the blanket around herself, covering her lips and nose with the fabric, leaving only her eyes visible. I smile at the relatively tender gesture. Intense coffee-colored eyes gaze at me without blinking.

"You don't remember anything, do you?" Her question sounds muffled due to the blanket covering her lips. I squint, trying to concentrate and remember something.

Suddenly, a river of memories from last night's party floods my mind.

[ flashback ]

The alcohol flowed through my veins, the deafening music was pounding in my ears, yet at the same time, it allowed my body to move to the rhythm of its notes. I grab a brimming glass of beer from a girl's hand, not thinking at all, disrupting the atmosphere of my bubble. I gulp down the liquid in one sip and throw the glass on the floor, screaming with joy.

I had lost sight of Enid for a while. The blonde had maneuvered her way into the crowd when we entered, most likely to join her boyfriend.

I raise my arms to the sky and sway my hips, slightly out of sync due to the amount of alcohol in my system. A barely noticeable vibration occurs in the back pocket of my pants, and I lean against the wall to maintain my balance as I take out my phone.

It's 11:27 PM, and I've received a message from Jenna.

Jenna: Hey, sorry for replying now. I was reading some assignments and lost track of time.

Jenna: Silly you :'3

I smile, probably looking like an idiot, and start typing on the screen, seeing things slightly doubled.

N0t... a w0rry... y3s... F1nE

Jenna had already read the message.

Jenna: T/A... are you drunk?

It's the first time she's called me by my last name, and tears form at the corners of my eyes. Jenna is mad at me. Plus, alcohol is making me much more sensitive.

Jenna's smiling face appears on my screen, and I struggle to tap the green icon to accept the call.

"Heyyyyyy," I emphasize the "y," smiling again.

I hear a sigh from the other end.

"T/N... are you drunk?" Jenna mutters to herself. "Where the hell are you?" I can barely hear her voice.

I head towards the stairs leading to the upper floor, seeking some privacy. I avoid a couple of passionately kissing couples and slip into an empty room, luckily.

"I'm at Smith's house," I answer, relieved that I can no longer hear the deafening music.

"Send me the address, I'm coming to get you," Jenna responds in a stern tone, ending the call.

[ flashback end ]

My eyes shift to Jenna, who had meanwhile removed the blankets. Professor Ortega was looking at me, presumably waiting for me to finish my thoughts. She bites her lower lip absentmindedly.

"Oh my god... you came to get me," I exclaim in surprise, looking at Professor Ortega with flushed cheeks. Jenna nods, settling herself on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position.

"Yes... and when I arrived, you were with a girl," she admits, swallowing nervously, subtly rolling her eyes. "Enid?" I ask, scratching my head awkwardly. She slowly shakes her head.

"Olivia," she admits, getting up from the couch.

"Olivia?"

Oh..."

[ flashback]

As I descended the stairs after sending the address to Jenna, I spotted Edward in the distance. The host had his arms draped around a girl's head, leaning in as he kissed her neck. Almost instinctively, I walked in their direction, noticing the displeased expression on the girl's face.

She clearly didn't want to be there.

Leaning against a wall, I struggled to maintain my balance. With gleaming eyes, I watched the couple, clenching my jaw as I saw the girl attempting to fend off the guy's advances.

"Hey..." I yelled, grabbing the girl's attention. Dark eyes looked at me with a pleading expression as she used her arms to push Edward away, though he was bigger and stronger than her. Placing a hand on Edward's shoulder, I pulled him away from the girl. The stumbling host glared at me with anger.

"What do you want, T/A? Can't you see we were having fun?" he gritted his teeth, looking at me irritably.

I shifted my gaze to the girl, who had discreetly positioned herself behind me. Edward walked towards her, but I placed a hand against his chest, preventing her from moving. Edward looked at me with a puzzled expression, his eyes red and glistening. "She doesn't... want," I said seriously, attempting to dissuade him. Edward chuckled, ignoring my words.

With a strength and balance I didn't know I had, I punched his right jaw, causing him to step back a few paces and clutch his face in pain. He glared at me, absolutely furious. "What the hell..." he touched his sore jaw, "are you an idiot or something?" I looked at him, a smile on my face, pleased that I had managed to land a punch.

Edward took a step towards me, but a hand on his shoulder halted him. One of his friends whispered something in his ear, and with some difficulty, he was led away by his friend before our altercation escalated into something more serious. Some bystanders who had stopped to watch left nonchalantly, since the fight had already ended.

"Are you okay?" I turned my attention back to the girl. She had black eyes and long straight hair that gracefully cascaded down her shoulders. While her face was not entirely clear to me, I could discern her Asian features. "I'm Olivia, Olivia Rodrigo, and yes... I'm fine, thanks," the girl gave me a shy smile, and I returned the gesture. For a split second, I lost my balance, and two arms wrapped around my waist.

"Everything okay?" she inquired, her voice right next to my ear. Her breath lightly brushed against my cheek. I nodded, starting to walk.

"Exit..." I stammered, my gaze fixed on the door of the house. With one arm around my waist, the girl guided me towards the exit.

I was so intoxicated that I could barely make out Jenna in the crowd. The professor looked around, clearly concerned.

Can you believe it? Jenna... here... The thought itself was amusing.

I began to giggle, and from the corner of my eye, I noticed Olivia smiling, making room for us amidst the teenagers. My mouth fell open in surprise when I saw two unmistakable coffee-colored eyes staring at me. Jenna took a few steps forward and stopped in front of us.

She was clad in a sweatshirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes appeared noticeably tired, indicating she was sleepy.

"Jennaaaa," I said, smiling at her.

Jenna rolled her eyes, visibly annoyed, and leaned towards me. Suddenly, her gaze fixed on Olivia, and she made a face when she saw her arm around my waist.

Is it just me, or is Jenna annoyed?

"Thanks... but now I'll take care of her," Jenna practically shouted, attempting to make herself heard over the noise. Olivia hesitantly released her hold on my waist, allowing me to move into Jenna's arms.

Hmm... I love her scent.

With some difficulty, we maneuvered our way towards the exit of the house.

[ flashback end]

I get up from the couch, searching for Jenna's figure with my eyes. In the meantime, Professor Ortega has moved to the kitchen, cooking something.

She looks at me from the corner of her eye, giving me a shy smile.

"Thank you... for yesterday," I confess, and she shakes her head, looking at the piece of meat in the pot. "Don't worry," she says absentmindedly, adding a bit of salt.

A question haunts me.

"Did... you sleep... with me?" I ask, and she turns her head towards me. Jenna, with a slight smile on her lips, shakes her head. A feeling of discomfort and disappointment wells up in my stomach.

"I slept on the couch," she shrugs nonchalantly, giving me a small smile.

My eyes move to the table next to the raven-haired woman. It's set for two people. With a rumble in my stomach, I look at Jenna with sparkling eyes. Professor Ortega lifts a spatula and smiles at me.

"How about we eat now?" she suggests, looking at me curiously.

I nod, wholeheartedly agreeing with the splendid idea.

[...]

On Monday afternoon, Professor Asher Spencer had subjected me to an incredibly strenuous workout.

Presumably seeking revenge for disrupting the moment with Jenna last time, the professor had me run for half an hour around the track during football team practice. Several times, he whistled as if urging me to pick up the pace, and in return, I shot him a disgruntled look.

"You need to make up for the poor performance in the previous class."

To make matters worse, I hadn't done it because I was unwell on Thursday afternoon. Apparently, he wanted me to catch up on it on a day when we didn't even have classes, solely for the purpose of punishing me.

With my lungs burning, craving as much oxygen as possible, and my legs wobbly, I completed the final meters while Asher stopped the stopwatch. Exhausted, I collapsed onto the red earth of the track.

He wore a satisfied smile.

"Go change," he jotted something in his notebook, glancing at me briefly, "then you can go home." He shot me a smug grin and subsequently walked over to the field to supervise the team.

I clenched my jaw tightly and got up from the ground, wiping sweat off my forehead. I practically stole a forgotten water bottle from the grass and took a deep gulp, closing my eyes to savor the refreshing sensation.

I sighed from fatigue and entered the locker room. Walking to the benches, I grabbed a towel from my bag. I removed my shirt and tried to wipe off as much sweat as possible, followed by applying deodorant. I didn't like showering at school, so I decided to wait until I got home.

I rinsed my face with cold water and rubbed some onto my hair, attempting to alleviate the unbearable heat. Suspiciously, I looked towards the entrance of the girls' locker room as I heard the door open, and my confusion turned to a smile when I saw Olivia Rodrigo.

Olivia Rodrigo was the cheerleading captain, and when I met her the other day, I had a nagging feeling that her face was familiar. The Latina girl was wearing a skirt and top in our prestigious school's colors, holding pom-poms in her hands, her hair in a high ponytail, and her lips painted red.

Her eyes traced along my figure, giving me an almost hungry look. Clearing my throat, I realized I hadn't put my shirt back on yet, and I awkwardly pulled it over my head, adjusting my hair. Her gaze shifted from my stomach to my eyes.

"Everything okay?" I grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. Olivia Rodrigo fidgeted on the spot, giving me a shy smile.

"I wanted to thank you for Friday..." she confessed, playing with her fingers nervously. I offered her a timid smile and shook my head.

"No need to thank me... it's everyone's duty to intervene in such situations," I said, walking towards the locker room exit with my bag in hand. I approached the girl, and I immediately noticed that she was significantly shorter than me.

Just like Jenna.

An involuntary smile crept onto my lips as I recalled the lunch from the other day. Jenna and I had spent two hours chatting and laughing, discussing school or life choices. Professor Ortega had shown me pictures of her sisters, parents, and even her pets from her old family home in California. Later, we watched a movie, and around 6 pm, she had driven me home, giving me a quick hug.

I shook off my reverie and focused my attention on the brunette.

"What if I thank you by inviting you for a coffee at Starbucks?" she offered with a charming smile. "We can go after tomorrow's field trip," she suggested, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Field trip? What field trip?" I asked, slightly disoriented. Olivia tilted her head, looking at me seriously.

"Tomorrow we're going paintballing... remember? A fun day out! How could you forget?" She chuckled softly, giving me a friendly nudge on the side.

My eyes widened in realization. A few days ago, Professor Asher had mentioned something about paintballing, but I wasn't paying attention since I didn't care much about what he was saying. I smiled, remembering that Jenna would be coming with us too; she had mentioned it the other day, saying she would "destroy me," but I had forgotten about it until now.

I looked at Olivia with a mischievous grin. "How about the loser buys the coffee?" I proposed, and she raised her chin with authority, convinced that she was clearly superior to me.

"Get ready to cry," she declared, and I looked at her indignantly. I smiled at her and waved as I walked towards the Nevermore parking lot, the smile still plastered on my lips.

"If you need to call... you know I'm always here... just write to me," I smiled, and she did the same, nodding her head.

I'd better move if I want to avoid falling into Enid's clutches.

As I walked towards the school's parking lot, I saw Jenna in the distance. Professor Ortega had the car keys in her hand and was wearily walking towards her BMW. She bit her lower lip, looking worried.

"Jenna?" I called out her name loudly, trying to make myself heard from a distance. Jenna turned towards me and smiled timidly, brushing a rebellious strand of hair from her face. I approached the dark-haired girl, raising an eyebrow in confusion when I saw her bloodshot eyes.

Jenna rubbed one of her eyes with her hand, trying to remove the evidence of her tears.

With a soft thud, I dropped my bag to the ground.

My shoulders relaxed, and I looked at Professor Ortega with concern, wondering what was happening to her. Jenna smiled at me, her lips trembling, and her brown eyes brimming with tears. Instinctively, I wiped a tear from her right cheek with my thumb, feeling sorry to see her in this state. She clenched her jaw and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, no longer able to hide her true emotions, bursting into tears against my neck. Her shoulders shook convulsively under her sobs, and my heart ached, wondering why this young girl was so broken.

I placed a hand along her back, trying to offer her as much comfort as I could.

After a few minutes, Jenna broke the embrace, looking at me with glistening eyes and a small smile of gratitude. She timidly wiped away the remaining tears with her shirt sleeve, sniffing. I moved a hand along her face, using two fingers to lift her chin so she could see my eyes. The sunlight reflecting off her face highlighted the freckles around her nose, making her eyes appear slightly lighter.

"What happened?" I asked timidly, curious and concerned about the possible answer. "I know I'm just a student... but I'm good at listening," I smiled as I noticed Jenna had pulled the corners of her mouth into a shy smile.

I withdrew my hand from her face and looked at her with a slight smile on my lips.

"You're not just a student, T/N," she admitted, causing my heart to skip a beat and shivers to run down my spine due to the intensity of her gaze. "Nothing happened... it's just stress... some students and teachers drain me... lately, I haven't been sleeping at night, and damn it... I'm so tired," she huffed, crossing her arms against her chest.

"Tonight, go to bed early, okay? Otherwise, tomorrow won't be fun trying to beat you if you're asleep against a tree," I tried to lift her spirits, jokingly. Jenna gave me a weak punch on the shoulder and chuckled, amused by my words.

"Thank you... you've helped me shake off this mountain of stress," she looked at me through her long lashes, giving me a precious smile.

"It was the second person who thanked me today."

I winked at her and offered a shy smile. "Don't mention it. Sometimes crying helps relieve tension," I said as I picked up my bag from the floor and slung it over my shoulder. Jenna fiddled with the keys to her car. Professor Ortega smiled at me, this time with more happiness and noticeably brighter.

She locked eyes with me, her coffee-colored irises locking onto mine. Damn it... I could get lost in her gaze. The sudden honk of a horn made us startle and break the atmosphere that had formed between the two of us.

"Surely it's Enid," I muttered, absentmindedly biting my lower lip.

I began to walk towards the Nevermore parking lot, still looking at Jenna with a smile plastered on my lips. "If you need to call... you know I'm always here... just message me," I smiled, and she did the same, nodding her head.

I better move if I want to avoid being caught in Enid's clutches.

[ the next day]

"Mmmmmh," I groan, burying my face in the pillow as I hear the sound of the blinds being raised. I let out an annoyed grunt as the sunlight hits my eyelids, disturbing my sleep.

"T/N, darling, weren't you supposed to go on the field trip today?" My mother's absentminded question immediately jolts me awake. I hurriedly get out of bed, stumbling in the process. From the floor, I look up to see my mother giving me a puzzled look while holding a basket of dirty laundry.

I hastily remove my shirt and pants, trying to change as quickly as possible. With a toothbrush in my mouth, I glance at the notifications on my phone. I have 5 missed calls from Enid and 3 messages from Professor Ortega.

Jenna:

"Are you there?"

Jenna:

"Is it getting late... are you coming or not? Are you afraid of losing by any chance?"

Jenna:

"The bus will be here in 20 minutes, hurry up!"

And this message was sent 5 minutes ago. I spit out the toothpaste, gargle with mouthwash, and grab my backpack. I rush downstairs, narrowly avoiding Tex, my dog. He's a German Shepherd. I enter the kitchen and see my family having breakfast.

"Are you still here? Do you want a ride?" my father asks while flipping pancakes. I shake my head and quickly slip on a sock with both hands.

"I still have 10 minutes," I mutter, grabbing an apple and holding it between my teeth. In a rush, I put on my shoes and sling my backpack over my shoulder. I say goodbye to my family, tousle my younger brother's hair, and rush out the door.

"I love you!" I shout as my parting words echo in the house. Without waiting for a response, I close the door and literally sprint towards the school.

(...)

"HERE I AM!" I shout into the air as I spot Jenna leaning against the bus door in the distance. Her coffee-colored eyes give me a reproachful look, yet there's a timid smile on her lips. With flushed cheeks, I walk past her and climb the steps, apologizing to the bus driver for being late.

The bus is quite full, but there's an empty seat by the window in the front row. Enid smiles at me from the back of the bus, wordlessly apologizing for not saving me a seat. I shake my head and sit down by the window, feeling slightly annoyed that we've already arrived.

"Hey, T/N," I hear from behind, and I turn to see Olivia with her friend sitting next to her. The Latina girl gives me a shy smile as she holds her phone in her hands.

"Hi, Olivia," I smile, slightly breathless.

"For a moment, I was afraid you wouldn't come... I was about to message you on IG," she confesses, chuckling softly. Her friend leans in to whisper something in her ear, and Olivia glances at me briefly, her cheeks tinted with red.

Then Olivia playfully nudges her friend, and the friend pulls on Olivia's hair, causing Rodrigo's irritation. I settle into my seat, tired, and also to avoid witnessing any potential argument between the two girls. My gaze drifts to the driver's side, and I smile as my eyes meet Jenna's.

Professor Ortega holds onto the pole, looking a bit uncomfortable with the arrangement. She's wearing simple track pants and a blue t-shirt, probably opting for these clothes in case they get dirty. She gives me a shy smile as a brief greeting.

She looks around and hesitantly walks in my direction, taking the seat next to me. She leans in, and her fragrance wafts into my nose, making me smile at the pleasant scent.

"I see you made it after all... I was starting to worry," she offers a shy smile.

"My alarm didn't go off this morning," I shrug nonchalantly, giving her a mischievous grin. "Were you waiting for me, Miss Ortega?" She rolls her eyes at my comment and smiles, revealing her dimples. "Don't play dumb," I exclaim with mock indignation, placing a hand over my chest as if in pain. "Ouch, Jenna!" I pretend to wipe away an imaginary tear, and she chuckles softly at my theatrics.

The bus comes to a stop, surprising me.

"Make sure not to cry later, okay? I wouldn't want to give you false hopes of winning," Jenna mutters, getting up from her seat and walking towards the bus exit. I grip my backpack's strap and stand up to follow the other students, slightly annoyed that we've already arrived.

"All this fuss for a 10-minute bus ride," I remark, looking at Xavier. He nods, waiting for his best friend to make his way to us, hand in hand with Enid.

We disembark from the bus, and I smile at the sight of various trees around, closing my eyes and taking in the fresh air. With purposeful steps, we approach a small wooden cabin.

A man in his 40s stands there impatiently.

"ALRIGHT!" he yells, capturing the attention of the teenagers. I stand next to Enid as we listen to the words of the owner of this place. Jenna and Asher, the only teachers, stand by the man's side.

I had completely forgotten about Asher. I clench my jaw, trying to avoid showing my disgust towards him.

"Does anyone know how paintball works?" he asks, sounding almost bored by the situation. A hand goes up from the crowd, but he blatantly ignores it. Enid absentmindedly grabs my wrist, drawing closer to me.

"We're on the same team, right?" she whispers in my ear, and I nod.

"The goal of the two teams is to eliminate the members of the opposing team as many times as possible within a time limit. When a player is hit, they can't shoot and must return to base to 'respawn.' Touching the base brings the player back into the game. The referees, in this case, me, will count every eliminated player," he explains, grabbing a paintball projectile.

"Alright... now divide yourselves into four teams and get the necessary gear."

He concludes, walking towards the professors, probably discussing the cost.

Enid, Olivia, Xavier, and a few others I don't know head towards the blue equipment. Excitedly, we put on chest protectors and the game jerseys. My eyes wander to Jenna, who's on a team with people I've never seen before. Fortunately, Asher is in another group along with Ajax and his buddies.

"I'm so excited," Enid exclaims, putting on her protective mask and tying the blue bandana around her arm. "I want to beat Ajax; we have a bet to win." She smiles widely, and I reciprocate, happy for her competitive spirit. Xavier struggles to put on gloves and a neck protector while keeping his weapon on the ground. I catch a glimpse of Olivia, slightly nervous, clutching her paintball marker to her chest. She gives me a sweet smile, letting me know she's okay, and I nod in response.

I turn my attention back to Jenna, a mischievous smile forming on my lips as I see her putting on the chest protector. I bite my lower lip playfully and raise my paintball marker, aiming at her backside. With one eye closed, I fire a shot at Jenna, causing her to scream in surprise.

Professor Ortega turns in my direction, unconsciously touching her rear and feeling the dampness of the paint. Her mouth drops open in astonishment as she places two fingers on the spot that was hit, finding blue paint. Her eyes gleam with a desire for revenge, keeping her paintball marker firmly in her hands.

Without breaking eye contact, she smears the paint along her cheek, creating a war paint-like design as soldiers do. I bite my lower lip, trying to hold back laughter, and I wink at Jenna.

"Nice shot, T/N," Enid says amidst laughter, making me smile. Jenna turns toward her group, beginning to talk to them, giving me a quick glance.

It wouldn't end here.

(...)

With my breaths uneven, I clung tightly to my paintball marker, glancing around the tree to see if anyone was nearby. Brushing a lock of hair from my face, I clenched my jaw and prepared to change my position.

In this hour and a half of gameplay, the teams with the fewest eliminations were the Blue team, mine, and Asher's. Before splitting up, we had devised a plan where Enid and Xavier would head to the east side of the woods, aiming to reach the enemy teams' flags directly. So far, we had only captured one flag, eliminating a team whose members I couldn't recall. Olivia, her friend, and a couple of guys would stay to guard our flag while I focused on eliminating as many opponents as possible.

They would return to base, but they had to wait 10 minutes before rejoining the game.

I knelt down and leaned toward a fallen dead tree, hearing footsteps approaching. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Asher pass by with Ajax, and I smiled, seizing the opportunity. I picked up a small pebble from the ground and threw it to divert the two guys' attention.

Enid would be pleased to know I'd gotten back at him.

As soon as the pebble hit the ground, the two turned toward the sound, ready to shoot at the source. I stood up and began firing at their chests, hitting their chest protectors. Asher shot me a deadly glare, while Ajax seemed baffled by how I'd managed to trick them.

"You'll pay for this, T/A," Asher muttered through gritted teeth, gripping his paintball marker tightly. I nodded, feeling proud of having temporarily eliminated him, and walked in another direction, slightly crouched to avoid being spotted.

"The Blue team has captured the Green team's flag. Two teams remaining," I exulted inwardly when I realized it was his team's flag we had taken.

I aimed my marker in various directions, analyzing potential threats. I walked slowly, avoiding twigs and dry leaves to remain unnoticed. A Cheshire cat-like smile stretched across my lips as I spotted Jenna Ortega in the distance.

The calculus professor leaned against the corner of two walls, sighing tiredly and slightly agitated from the adrenaline rush. She stood on tiptoe, peering over the wall, her paintball marker resting against her back. I bit my lip and slowly made my way toward her, attempting to catch her off guard.

"BOO," I whispered in her ear, causing her to scream in fright. Jenna turned toward me, her eyes wide, and her breathing heavy. Her hands pushed against my chest, trying to force me to the ground. As I slid against the ground, I grabbed Jenna's wrist with one hand, causing her to fall against my chest.

"Are you an idiot?" she whispered through gritted teeth after regaining her balance, looking at me with her arms on either side of my head. "You scared me to death." I winced at the pain but smiled when I saw Jenna's expression.

"That was my goal," I admitted, running my tongue over my lower lip.

The tension in her shoulders melted away, and her eyes softened. There was still a blue paint stain on her cheek, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her eyes were fixed on mine, and I sighed as I saw how close our faces were, noticing the freckles around her face.

Unconsciously, I raised my hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, leaving my hand on her cheek. With a half-smile on my lips, I brushed some dirt from her face with my thumb.

"Are you okay?" I asked, concerned. I wasn't sure if the fall had hurt her, even though I cushioned the impact. But regardless, I wanted to know if she was alright. Jenna gazed intensely at me, nervously swallowing her saliva. She looked away from my eyes, shifting her attention to my lips, then slowly nodded.

"Yeah..." she whispered, her breath grazing my lips. My heart began to race against my ribcage, and I nervously looked at Jenna in anticipation. With a hesitant tilt of her head, Professor Ortega smiled slightly. Our faces, like magnets, drew closer until our lips finally touched, igniting the long-awaited kiss.

Jenna sighed and tentatively moved her lips against mine, increasing the rhythm of the kiss. I trailed my hand along her jawline, stopping at her neck, curling my fingers to draw her closer to my face, erasing any remaining distance. My heart pounded wildly, and with a smile, I savored this first experience, melting into her soft, plump, and delicious lips. Her teeth bit into my lower lip, making me moan from the pain and surprise.

The need for oxygen became apparent, and reluctantly, we had to break the contact between our mouths. Our eyes immediately locked, and her lips curved into a beautiful smile, to which I reflexively responded.

A few seconds later, fear appeared in her irises, and she looked at me in horror. As if my touch on her skin was burning her, she quickly rose from the ground, staring at me sternly.

"This... this wasn't supposed to happen," she shook her head and bit her lip, lost in thought. My heart shattered slowly at her words, and I shook my head in disappointment. My heart pounding in my throat, I took a step forward and grabbed Jenna's wrist, catching her eye.

"You... I like you, Jenna," the truth that I had been trying to avoid saying for too long escaped naturally from my mouth, lifting a weight off my shoulders. Jenna looked at me intensely, her eyes pleading with me not to make things any more difficult than they already were. She slipped off the arm band and let it fall to the ground, wanting to escape the situation.

"I'm sorry," Jenna murmured weakly, gripping her paintball marker and quickly walking away from me, clearly intending to avoid me.

With teary eyes, I watched as my first kiss walked away, my heart breaking into a thousand pieces.

Guys, I would really love to receive some comments... I don't care if they're positive or not, but I need to know how you're finding this story.

[jungle-angel]

Playing With The Princess (Calvin Evans x Reader)

Summary: You can't get over how adorable it is when your husband plays with your daughter

Tagging: @floydsmuse

You folded up the wooly blanket and neatly draped it across the back of the couch, your daughter erupting with giggles as Calvin nibbled on her little cheek. He lay on his stomach right next to her, the chubby little baby trying to fit her whole foot in her mouth as he blew soft little raspberries on her cheek.

You laughed, unable to keep from smiling at the sight. Ever since you had gotten a promotion at the college, you and Calvin had been able to spend more time at home with Ellen and to boot, you would both have summers off and more time to make the best memories with your family.

Calvin blew another raspberry on her cheek, causing her to giggle. Six-Thirty snorted and crawled his way over with Ellen's ducky blanket in his teeth, fresh from the laundry basket that Pat had brought up from the dryer.

"Alright princess," Calvin said, pushing himself to his knees. "I think it's time for bath and bed."

"Daddy's tired already?" you chuckled.

Calvin picked Ellen up and brought her over to you before pressing a kiss to your lips. "You wanna give her a bath or should I?" he asked.

"You did it last time, so it's my turn," you told him.

"Alright," Calvin answered. "I'll shut the house up for the night and then put her down for bed."

"Deal," you agreed before kissing him again.

When you had gone upstairs, Calvin set to closing up the house for the night, letting Six-Thirty out the kitchen door and into the backyard to do his business. It was still freezing cold, but already, Calvin had begun to see some of the first signs of spring through the half melted snow. It wouldn't be long before summer came, but his father, ever the intuitive weatherman of the family, had a feeling it was going to be one of the driest summers on record.

As soon as Six-Thirty had trotted back into the house, Calvin locked every door and window, including the one over the sink in the kitchen. Upstairs he went to switch into his warm pjs, before he saw you heading into Ellen's room.

He poked his head in the door to find you drying Ellen off in her little yellow bath towel. Calvin thought you looked like a goddess standing in the dim glow of the little dresser lamp, it's soft light illuminating the rose patterned wallpaper and the soft, cuddly little toys on the shelf above the wooden dresser. On the shelf next to it stood all of Pat's old porcelain dolls, each one in their own pretty little outfit which, to his hope, Ellen would be able to play with.

"There you go princess," you chirped as soon as Ellen was in her little pink nightgown. "And look who's here."

Calvin laughed a little as he took Ellen and seated himself in the creaky nursery rocker. "You want her quilt?" you asked. "It's gonna get cold tonight."

"Might as well," he answered.

You lovingly draped the Peter Rabbit quilt over both your husband and daughter before Cal started rocking her to sleep. You were amazed at how quickly Ellen had drifted off to sleep with Calvin not too far behind her.

"Alright my love," Calvin whispered once she was out. "In you go."

Very gently, he placed her in her crib, quilt and all with her bear and her ducky before turning out the light. Six-Thirty settled himself on the rug in front of her crib with his favorite chew toy before receiving a few scritches from you and Calvin.

"Well Mrs. Evans," he chuckled, gently pinning you against the wall. "Baby's asleep, Six-Thirty's with her.......whaddaya say we head off to sleep ourselves?"

"Cheeky bastard," you chuckled as he kissed your cheek and then the curve of your neck.

You happily obliged and in no time at all, you and Cal were snug in your shared bed, snoring the cold night away and dreaming of the spring that was soon to come.

[suchalonelysunflower]

Had My Chances (c.h)

Pairing: Calum Hood x Fem! Reader

Requested? Yes, by the lovely @getsojaded

Summary: Based on the One Direction song "loved you first" Calum can't help but feel jealous to see you with another man.

Warnings: Angst! Language, mentions of alcohol, smoking. Some grammatical mistakes (English is not my first language, I'm sorry)

Word count: 4.6K

Author's note: I've finally wrote an angst that broke my heart again, and I'm so happy with it. Remember that REBLOGS are very IMPORTANT AND MEAN A LOT as well as COMMENTS AND INTERACTIONS. PLEASE SUPPORT YOUR WRITERS. Hope you like it and happy reading

My masterlist // taglist on bio!

Calum was choking the hell out of his beer can, leaving the imprints of his fingers as evidence for the poor soul that had to clean this mess up later.

It was an unconscious type of thing - he’s been doing a lot of unconscious things lately, none of them his fault, he would argue - but the intent behind it is nothing innocent.

There was a time when he used to be the life of the party. Or at least a bit more vivid than just standing in a far-off corner glaring at someone who barely paid attention to him. He didn’t mean to glare or to even look in their direction, but it was impossible to take his eyes off them. It was almost as if he wanted to hurt so badly he’d find a way out of heartache. Battle fire with fire and those sorts of things.

“Okay, who are we hatin’?”

He didn’t even need to look to his right to know that Ashton was standing there even before he spoke. His friend - the ever more intuitive when it came to talking about heartbreak or breaking hearts - should already know the answer to his question, and Calum knows he knows. Ashton just wants him to admit it.

Still, Ashton followed his gaze till it landed on the target.

“Cal,” He sighed “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. Nor her, for that matter”

“I’m not doing anything” Calum mumbled into his drink.

“You’re overthinking”

“And you should mind your own business” He spat, leaving the poor, abused can on the shelf behind him.

Calum walked outside, trying to get some air before his hands started roaming through his pockets looking for his pack of cigarettes. He tried to quit it, and many times he tried in vain. There was always something that pulled him into the vice again. Tonight was the selfish need of having the power to hurt himself without people noticing. Something he could regret tomorrow. Something that didn’t involve making the mistake of spilling and saying what he should’ve said years ago.

The lighter provided the only gleam of the outsides that night. As Calum inhaled the toxins of his favorite weapon, he closed his eyes and hoped to wake up and let all of this be a dream. But that wish went away with the smoke he pulled out of his lungs, watching it disappear into the night till it merged with the stars above.

He was not a man used to not getting what he wanted. So is this a gut punch to his ego? Yes, of course. But had he not been in love for some time he’d believe that it’ll come to pass, ignoring the heart-wrenching reality of him not being able to lightly caress your hair with the tip of his fingers; or not care about how his body moved him toward your space every time you were around; or claim that the times you were both in a group laughing, he would stare at you, drinking on your reaction and getting drunk of your laugh, while you stared at someone else.

It was just usual for him not getting what he wanted. But this was beyond any desire of his. This, for a lack of better words, was beyond his reach. And he hated it. He hated every moment of it since the first time he realized it, hoping it’ll go away.

But what could he expect from falling for his best friend?

*

Calum always believed in past lives and how you’re meant to reconnect with people that have meant something important to you. Whether it was in the form of a mother, a father, a pet, a friend, a teacher, a lover… Soulmates will find their way.

He also believed that his brothers were his soulmates. He knows deep in his heart that Luke, Michael, Ashton, and himself were meant to meet in every life, making music and sharing their message across the world for other people to hear. He also believed that his dog, Duke, might’ve come to him as a guide. An old teacher who bound his life to appear in the moments he needed most. He believes that his family would always be his family, maybe in different ways, but they’ll always come together one way or another.

Now, there is one thing Calum isn’t sure of, and that is you.

What were you to him before? Why are you here with him? And why does he feel compelled to be your everything?

When you met years ago, Calum didn’t think much of that first encounter. You were just a friend of a friend, a normal acquaintance. But then you kept meeting each other, whether at a party or a concert. And every time you grew closer. Whether it was the jokes you shared, the similar tastes in music and movies, the way you made each other laugh, or the secret codes you accidentally created. He was just eighteen back then, but he knew it had to mean something.

He just couldn’t figure out what role you played in his life. Not yet, at least.

“I don’t think that because you had a bad experience with milk you become lactose intolerant,” You said casually as you applied your mascara in the mirror.

It was not unusual for Calum to find himself pressing the facetime button to call you every day now, especially given that he was on the other side of the country touring with his band. The calls would mostly consist of him telling you about his day and you doing the same as the two of you would go on with your lives as if you were in the same room together even though you’re miles apart.

The two of you would indulge in conversations that could be as deep as a puddle of water - as the one you’re having now - or as deep as the sea. Never once feeling uncomfortable or falling silent. And even in the quiet types of calls, when you only need to feel each other’s presence after a long day, you would embrace the silence as a comfort rather than an inconvenience.

And Calum loved that. He loved these little moments with you. It didn’t matter if they lasted two minutes or three hours. He just knew that talking to you was one of the top best moments of his day.

He just didn’t understand why yet

“I could be, though” He pouted, watching as you applied blush to your cheeks “And the next time you take me for ice cream I might die and it’ll be your fault for playing it down”

You chuckled “I don’t think that’s how it works, babe”

And there it was, that little, weird feeling that made him all warm and fuzzy inside, triggered by a nickname. Calum quickly swallowed it down, just marking it up as the victory that was to make you laugh.

Still, he changed the subject.

“Why are you getting all dolled up?” He asked. Ignoring the way Luke looked at him for a second before going back to playing subway surfers on his phone.

“I’m going out”

“Where?”

“Dinner I guess, probably dancing afterward” You shrugged, trying to decide on which lipstick would suit best with your outfit.

“Girls' night?”

“No, it’s more like a date, I think. Well, he didn’t actually say “date - date” but I mean, he did everything you do when you ask someone for a date and-” You looked at your phone screen “Are you okay?”

Only then did Calum realize he clenched his jaw. He blinked at you and disguised it with a fake yawn.

“I didn’t know you had a date,” He said, trying to sound uninterested, but Luke’s eyes on him told him he was a bullshit actor.

You didn’t seem to catch it, though.

“I told you I was going out with Jessie”

“I thought you meant Jessica”

“Does it matter?” You asked, cornering him to a wall - metaphorically.

Calum sighed “Nope, just be safe and have fun, alright?”

You rolled your eyes and sarcastically said “Yes, dad” as you applied some gloss. Just in time for the doorbell to ring “Oops, that’s him. Wish me luck!”

And it might’ve been your smile and the way your eyes lit up when the doorbell rang knowing it was Jessie on the other side, or it might’ve been the spoiled milk he had in his coffee earlier. But there was an uneasy, foreign feeling in Calum’s chest as you said goodbye. Almost as if he didn’t want you to go at all.

But that was crazy. It’s probably nothing. So he smiled tightly and said “Bye, Y/N/N” and watched as you faded away before the facetime call ended.

Calum closed his eyes for a moment, frowning upon discovering this sunken feeling in his chest.

However, it didn’t last much as Luke was suddenly blasting “Jessie’s girl” through the hotel room’s speakers. Calum - rightfully so - smacked him with a pillow.

“Shut up” He groaned.

“I didn’t say anything!” Luke laughed

“You were going to!”

“How the fuck should you know?!”

A string of grumbled curses left Calum’s lips as he got up from the bed and went through his suitcase.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going out with Ash, wanna come?” He said, putting on a clean shirt.

“I didn’t know you were going out” Luke commented as he got up and went to find a shirt as well.

“We are now, c’mon”

To say the other two were surprised by Calum’s sudden need to go partying was an understatement given that Michael already was in his pajamas when the bassist went and knocked on their door, but neither of them was opposed to the idea. Soon, the whole band was dancing and drinking out at a club neither of them knew about one hour ago.

And if Calum was seen dancing and making out with a girl that looked like you, it was no one’s business but his own. And when he woke up next to a said girl a few hours later, no one needed to know.

*

The night was turning warmer, though that could be because of the alcohol and the three cigarettes he had since he came outside. The party was still in full swing but he wanted no part of that. Not when you were there with… him.

It’s stupid and he knows it. To have this unsolved grudge against you and every person you date.

You don’t owe him anything, no explanation or justification for any relationship you had or the one you were currently in. But he can’t help it. It’s just that every time he sees you wrapped around your partner’s arms he just wants to rip them off you and shield you from anyone’s eyes. From the moment he first noticed his feelings toward you it was clear that he couldn’t act on them to not ruin the relationship you two have.

He hates them. Every single one of them, every bloke that broke your heart or made you cry. He hates the ones you fell in love with, the ones that loved you back. The one that’s sitting on the couch next to you with his arms around your shoulder and the one that makes you laugh. He hates him the most and he’s not above showing it.

It’s not healthy but he doesn’t know how to stop.

“Why are you so protective of me?” You asked him once and he didn’t know how to tell you, so he made his heart quiet as his mind gave him a logical reason.

There were so many times when he could’ve fessed up and just tell you as it is. To make him the one that you would share your nights with instead of useless men who are not worthy of you.

Was he worthy of you?

Time for another cigarette.

*

Calum opened the door to find you there with a friendly smile; a pint of ice cream; a skin-care kit; and a bottle of wine. He couldn’t help but laugh as he stepped back so you could enter his house.

“I told you I’m fine,” He said, shaking his head as you made yourself comfortable on his couch, settling all the post-break-up necessities on the table.

“And I believe you,” You shrugged. “But I also know you, Cal. And you say you’re okay now but in a week it’ll all crash down as it always does because you bottle up your feelings. So let’s get them out of the way while we avoid the wreckage”

“I thought you didn’t even like her,” He said, sitting down next to you.

“I never said that!”

Calum gave you a look.

“I just didn’t think you were a good fit… that’s all” You confessed sheepishly.

Calum sighed “Well, you were right”

“I didn’t want to be” You scooted closer to him “I’m sorry, Cal. You truly seemed happy with her. And I liked seeing you happy”

He nodded but didn’t say anything. The break-up happened just a couple of days ago, and you were right when it came to talking about feelings now rather than later. But it was all so very new to him.

“I just- I never had a relationship like this before” He confessed.

“You really liked her, didn’t you?”

And yes, he did. For the first time in years, Calum could actually focus on a relationship. He had met his ex at a party, they talked all night and then he went home with her number saved on his phone. What followed were almost two years of amazing moments and memories filled with love but… something wasn’t right.

It wasn’t something any of them did, it just sort of happened. Blame the routine and the lack of effort from both parties, but they didn’t feel as if the relationship should continue. Yes, he would always feel something for her and would treasure those memories with care. Yet, he can’t say he’s sad and broken.

All his past relationships ended in heartbreak because his partners felt like a third wheel in their own relationships. And they had every right to break up with him. For all he knew, Calum just jumped into those relationships to get over you or to distract himself into loving another person that wasn’t you, all for nothing. Yet this relationship seemed like the real deal, the one that could actually sweep him off his feet and take his mind off of you, truly making him feel alive. And it worked until it didn’t. Until she called things off saying

“I don’t know if it’s me or if it’s you, but this is not working. We haven’t been working for a while now, have we?”

All he could do was agree and let her go. He loved her enough to do that without a fight. Or didn’t love her as he should. And maybe all she wanted was for him to fight for them, guess he let themselves down on that one. But if all these break-ups had something in common, is that you would always be there by his side to cheer him up.

“She deserves someone that can provide her with what she needs,” He said as you both sit with face masks and two glasses of wine filled to the brim “I guess it was not meant to be me”

“I’m sorry, Cal” You gave him a small, apologetic smile, while your hand went to his shoulder and squeezed it. His hand soon fell on top of yours “I’m proud of your decision, though, you and hers. It’s not healthy to be hung up in a relationship that’s just not going anywhere”

“Yeah, I know” He sighed, hiding the small smile that popped up when you didn’t retrieve your hand from his “It’s not like I’m heartbroken or anything, it’s just- I guess I’m just frustrated that we couldn’t make it work. None of my relationships seem to last because of that”

“Well, have you wondered why?” You sat up with interest, turning toward him and moving your hand to his thigh. Something completely innocent on your part, but that still made Calum’s heart beat a little bit faster.

“Of course I have”

“So what is keeping you from going after what you want in a relationship? Is it a previous heartbreak?”

“No… I don’t think I had one of those before” He said like a liar.

He knew that his heart was in perpetual mourning because of you, he was just too proud to admit it. All his past attempts at love were only meant to get over you and forget about the person you were currently hung up with.

Whenever you would tell him about a date or a new partner he’d made sure he’d have another story for you. Some of them made up on the spot, some taking inspiration from one of his friend’s dates, some of them real but without the same, genuine excitement you showed for your love life. A love life that didn’t include him.

Unconsciously, he made it a competition. Did you go on a date? He went on two. Did you kiss someone? He spent the night in another bed. All just so you could give him some type of reaction. Any indication that you were mad or uncomfortable about it. About him dating someone that isn't you. But every time you were supportive, feeling happy for him, and even encouraging him to call girls he didn’t even want to know more than just a one-night stand.

Calum only ever wanted for you to feel like he feels whenever he has to hear about the new guy that brought you flowers; the one that took you on a spontaneous trip to the Grand Canyon; or the one that cooked you a homemade meal for your first date. All the things that were killing him, he hoped you could feel at least a small amount of it. Waiting for you to realize it sooner rather than later.

“What?” You chuckled, nudging him with your elbow “The great Calum Hood never had his heart broken, he just breaks all the hearts along the way”

He laughed, pushing you slightly “Not all the hearts”

“Oh yeah, the other ones are Ashton’s job”

Calum just shook his head, quieting the voice in his head telling him that he didn’t break all the hearts because he was not going to break yours if given the chance to have it.

“Laugh all you want, you little gremlin,” He said

“Aww, Cal, I’m sorry” You pouted “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just really want you to be happy, you know? Find your person and all of that”

“I am happy, Y/N” He stated matter-of-factly “I have the band, the fans, Duke… I have you”

“I know, and I’m also so happy to have you” You smiled, lacing your fingers with his “But I’m talking about “the one”. You know, the one that makes your heart go crazy and the world spin around slower. The one that occupies your mind and every time you think about them you can’t help but smile. Someone that you can actually fall in love with. I’m not talking about marriage or things that we don’t believe in most of the time. But the one that makes the heartbreaks and disappointments all worth it because it led you to them”

Calum stared at you with an unreadable look in his eyes. How could you describe exactly what he was feeling but still have no idea that he has those feelings for you?

It has been a long time since he accepted you as being more than friends, or at least in his heart he knows you could be more. You were just perfect in every way, made just for him. And he loves you, he loves you so much without a hint of fear or doubt. But you just can’t see it.

“Maybe there is someone…” He mumbled, ready to spill his heart out to you on a silver platter.

But before you could register his words, your phone started ringing.

“Shit, wait a second,” You said, grabbing your phone from the table. Calum saw the small smile that formed on your lips before you declined the call “Sorry, what did you say?”

“Y/N, I-” He started again, and once again your phone interrupted him. He sighed “You should get that”

“What?” You asked, already silencing the phone again “No, it’s nothing, I promise”

“Who is it, though?”

“Oh, it’s just Matt”

“Matt?”

“Yeah, I told you about him, remember?” And he wished he didn’t.

You told him you were going on a date with someone called Matt a couple of weeks ago. He didn’t know you were still talking, let alone that you moved on to the “call” phase of the relationship. And now he couldn’t help but notice the gleam in your eyes when you said his name, a gleam that he knew would never be reserved for him.

“I forgot to tell him that he needn’t call me tonight” You sighed, already texting him. Calum could see the disappointment in your eyes.

“You should call him”

“What? No, Cal, I’m here for you and nothing is going to change that”

“I know, and thank you for that,” He said, faking his smile as much as he could “But I know you, and I know you want to call him so go ahead. I don’t mind”

You sighed “Thanks, babe. I’m just going to tell him tonight is off limits, it’ll take five minutes and then I’m all yours”

Oh and how it hurt him hearing you laugh from the kitchen as those five minutes went on. You sounded so happy and full of joy… he couldn’t take that from you now and, plus, would you even believe him?

Matt… what does he have that Calum doesn’t? Apparently, all the necessary to make you come back all giddy and blushing.

And when you sat up next to him and changed the topic back to Calum, his glass was already half empty.

*

“Hey, mate” Calum heard after the door slid open. Ashton soon stood next to him “Ready to go back in there?”

“Would Michael miss me if I don’t sing happy birthday to him?”

“You will break his heart” Ashton chuckled, trying to make him laugh as well but to no avail “You can’t avoid her forever, you know? She’s starting to notice”

“Well about fucking time” Calum spat, throwing the last of his cigarette to the floor.

Ashton sighed “Cal, c’mon… It’s not fair on her”

“It’s not fair to me either! What do you think, Ash? Do you think it’s funny for me to see her with him? To know every fucking detail of her happy life with Matt as if it didn’t kill me inside? It’s been years! Years where I have been so fucking close to telling her how I feel but there’s always him in the middle!”

He wasn’t crying, and he would not cry either. But he stopped hiding the rage he felt as his true feelings came spilling out of his mouth like a fountain of truth. He’d never said any of this out loud but now it seemed impossible to stop it.

“I’m just so fucking tired of seeing her with him. Seeing her kissing him, holding his hand, going on dates… All the things I should be doing with her”

“Cal…”

“No, fuck it! It’s true! It should be me! It always should’ve been me” His voice broke a little in the end “I should be the one in his place. I should’ve told her everything that night years ago, then I could be the one sitting on the couch with her, laughing and sharing those touches she thinks no one sees. But I do. All the fucking time those moments play on a loop inside my head and it’s making me want to scream. She’s the first girl I ever loved, the one that breaks my heart every single day because I keep letting her. She’s the one that’s making me feel like this without her knowing and it’s not fair! I could go in there right now and tell her how I feel but that won’t change a thing! She’ll still choose him! But I loved her first, Ash. I loved her first!”

Suddenly, all the air in his lungs was being crushed as Ashton brought him closer for a bone-wrenching hug.

For the first time that night, Calum relaxed. He let his body fall against Ashton’s frame as he hugged him back, hiding his face in his neck as the high of his confession wore off.

“I know it hurts,” Ashton said, lowly “But you can’t keep doing this to yourself, Cal”

“I know,” He sighed, pulling himself from the hug and patting Ashton’s arms “I don’t want to feel this way but I just can’t- I can’t let her go”

“Then try. You love her, do that for her”

“But what if-”

“If she feels the same and realizes that someday, then she’ll come to you. Don’t keep on waiting for an “if” Cal, you deserve more than that and so does Y/N”

Calum sighed and nodded, shaking his head a minute later from the overload of feelings. It wasn’t normal for him to snap like that, but it has been years since he kept it all in. It was bound to come out sooner or later, but he’d hope for a better outcome.

“Knock-knock!” Someone said behind them “Am I interrupting something?”

The two of them turn around to find you standing at the door, smiling at them as if nothing happened.

Immediately Calum started to panic, fearing that you’d heard everything. He said he hated your boyfriend, that he wishes he’d take his place, that he loved you… And you might’ve heard all of it while he was on a rant.

“H-hey, Y/N! Not at all, what’s up?” Ashton played the calm one, giving Calum time to freak out internally.

You were still smiling at them as you pointed back inside “We’re about to sing happy birthday, didn’t think you wanted to miss out”

You were acting so calm, with a big, kind smile on your face. Maybe you didn’t hear anything and just watched them hug awkwardly for a minute there. Calum could only hope. But then you smiled at him and nudged your head toward the party, and all he could do was breathe out and smile back, calming his nerves a little bit.

The three of you went back inside, quickly surrounding Michael as Luke brought out the cake and you all started to sing.

Calum looked back at you, standing next to Matt and leaning your head on his shoulder as your hands laced together. You looked briefly at your boyfriend and smiled, looking as happy as ever.

“Happy birthday dear Michael…”

And then it happened. For just one moment you looked back at Calum when he was already looking at you and his heart stopped.

You gave him a small, sad smile and shook your head no.

“Happy birthday to you!”

And all his hopes went away with the blow of the candles. * * tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @hoodhoran @hoodharlow @littledrummeraussie @bubblegum183 @irwin-fletcher-ash @wiiildflowerrr @in-a-world-of-fandoms @another-lonely-heart @aabc5sauce @in-superbloom @sadcupofcoffee @personalmuyverypersonal @himbohood @sofiaaraee @irwindoll @weasleytwinscumslut @fairytrice @colourfulcal @nibin0912 @hfkait @savagejane1 @youneedtocalumdown @heyitskelseaj @ashtonsunflower @nicebasscalum @calumspupils @secretsicanthideanymore @alltimesos @wontlastimokwiththat @whywontyoulovemecami @theimpossiblehologramtree @perriexed @abiancajg @rewmuslupin @icelily13 @bookthingz @gracieboogirl @fastandtheformula1 @fckingpernico @multistann @averageantichrist @a-darneddarling @plaidshirtyears @ihavenoideawhattodowithyou @bittersweetb4by @aria-grace-scott @thestarsandtheircoffee @bvbygxrl @luisa180206 @xxxlaura @iamdayanaz @flyingburrito123 @drugerlime

[stawpny]

New York, while shoving a ritz cracker into his mouth: did I punch him? hell yeah. Do I regret it? fuck no.

Gov, looking at him oddly: who did you punch?

California, concerned: aren’t you ceiliac..?

New York, still munching on the cracker : am I gluten free? hell yeah-

also New York, but with a southern accent, and still eating a cracker: but am I liberal pussy? fuck no.

-

anyways, I was bored

way for an introduction I guess

I jus thought of this while eating crackers

HEADCANNON TIMMEEE 😼

—

-Mass (when the little times he cooks) give York pieces of cheese or something like that. most of the time he just kinda throws it at him. you never know what the next thing is that he brings York.

- he loves doing southern accents to piss off the southerners.

- he eats things the wrong way to piss off his fellow NE states. EX: eating a cheese stick from the side.

- he loves to piss people off and then scurry away like he was never there, especially when people are cooking.

-speaking of cooking, I feel he would take bribes from his older brothers and go out into the kitchen to distract the person cooking so they could steal food from them. like he would say something really fucking stupid or ask the state something about their history. it sometimes works. onky sometimes

-he likes to make matching bracelets but especially likes receiving them from Cal or anyone really.

-calls Illinois “deep dish” and Illinois calls him “thin crust” (idk if this is cannon or not I js like the idea )

-he is very rat-like (obvi) he will steal something from you and never give it back. he has a shelf full of silly little trinkets that he steals from people. not really much important, just like bottle caps or random things.

-New York is the moon and Cal is the sun. (gay)

(also, I don’t think york is gluten intolerant but like I wanted to do it bc it was funny in my head)

-

eek

ily guys

I hope u liked these

I’ll do more soon, I pinky promise.

:D

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 3/58

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Dana reluctantly steps out of the passenger seat and follows her mother to the front door. Cal keeps his hands in his pockets, bobbing his head at her with a pained smile. They all stand there awkwardly for a beat until Maggie pushes the front door open and steps past the threshold, looking over her shoulder at Dana expectantly.

Dana steps into the foyer and looks around. There’s a staircase immediately in front of her with a hallway running adjacent. To her left is a living room, to her right a dining room. The floors are all hardwood, the walls bordered with crown molding and chair rails. It’s a nice house, one she might have dreamed about living in one day when she was a young woman just setting out in her career. She spots a stuffed elephant at the foot of the stairs and she picks it up, a flush of fear washing through her as she recalls the children.

“The kids are at the neighbors’,” Cal says suddenly, and she turns to see him standing near the front door. “I thought maybe it would be easier for you if they weren’t here right when you got home.” His expression is empathetic but also wounded, and his jaw twitches jerkily to one side like it did at the hospital this morning. One of his shoulders lifts spasmodically and his head tilts toward it, and she looks away.

“Why don’t you give her a tour, Cal?” Maggie suggests, and she can feel them exchanging meaningful looks behind her.

“Good idea, Maggie,” Cal acquiesces, and walks slowly into the room to their left. “This is the formal sitting room,” he says, gesturing around. There’s a small sofa across from an armchair, and a shelf loaded with books. “We don’t really spend much time in here.” He looks at her, clearly expecting some kind of response or recognition, but she feels nothing. He leads her through a set of French doors at the back of the room into another living room. “This is the family room. This is where we usually watch TV or whatever after the kids are in bed.”

She realizes that the we in his statement means the two of them: Dana and Cal. The married couple, working parents of two young children. She looks at the sectional couch and the TV mounted to the wall above the fireplace and tries to imagine them there, curled up with glasses of wine and network TV. She just can’t see it. On the wall beside the fireplace there’s a large family photo mounted in an ornate frame. She glances at it, but she can feel Cal watching her so she looks away.

The back wall of the house is covered in windows, and she can see a generous deck and well maintained yard. At the other end of the great room is a well-appointed kitchen with granite countertops and an island. She walks across the room and runs her palm over the cool stone, wondering how many times she’s prepared dinner here, or baked birthday cakes.

“That hallway leads back to the front door,” Cal says, pointing to a hall between the living and kitchen areas. “And this one over here leads to the dining room. The garage is just through here,” he says with a thumb hitched toward a door near the pantry. She meets his eye briefly and his melancholy tugs at her heart. She feels as though she’s stolen something from him, but she doesn’t know how to give it back. His jaw jerks and his shoulder jumps, and her doctor’s mind begins to wonder. He must see it on her face, because he looks down and sighs heavily. “I have Tourette’s,” he supplies, his tone defeated. “My tics get worse when I’m stressed.”

“Oh,” she answers, stopping short of adding a platitude. She realizes that this is information she should already have, that this is a disclosure he’s made to her already, years ago. She realizes that he went to bed a few days ago with a wife who loved and accepted him exactly as he is, and now has a stranger in his wife’s body standing in his kitchen gawking at his tics. “You have a beautiful home,” she says, trying to break the tension, and Cal lifts his head and looks at her like she slapped him in the face.

“Let’s look upstairs, Dana,” Maggie says, and Dana turns to see her hovering near the hallway that Cal indicated leads to the front door. Dana steals a glance at him but his head is down, so she follows her mother back to the stairwell. “You fell in love with this house the moment you saw it,” Maggie explains as Dana trails behind her to the second floor. “Cal felt like it was too big of an investment, but you insisted.”

The stairs turn and then end at a large landing, and to the right there is an open space that runs along the front of the house. The floor is littered with toys and a dollhouse is pushed against the far wall, and she infers that this area serves as a play space for the children. Maggie stands at the top of the stairs and watches her as she picks up a naked Barbie and smooths its hair down, then sets it in the driver’s seat of a plastic sports car. Dana wanders past her mother to the hallway that runs along the other side of the stairwell. She starts at the furthest room to the left, which hosts a queen bed and neutral decor. A guest room, she assumes, not one occupied by anyone on a regular basis.

The next door opens to a child’s room with green walls and a lofted bed. The floor is a carpet of Hot Wheels, LEGO, and action figures, and wooden letters mounted between the two windows read “Peter.” There’s a poster near the closet of a brown-haired man beside a blue cartoon dog boasting “We just figured out Blue’s Clues because we’re really smart.” She quietly closes the door and moves to the next, which is a bathroom that looks to be shared by the children. The next door is a girl’s room, much neater than Peter’s. The four-poster bed is hung with a white lace canopy, and a fleet of neatly arranged stuffed animals sits atop the carefully made blankets. On a desk near the window there are several sheets of paper with a child’s messy scrawl attempting the same message over and over.

Deer Mommy, I mess you.

Deer Mommy, kum home soon.

Deer Mommy, do not forgit about Jessis birtday.

Dana’s chest feels tight and she walks away from the desk, back into the hallway where Maggie looks at her with a concerned wrinkle of her eyebrows. Dana pauses, taking several steadying breaths, and looks from the final door at the end of the hall back to her mother.

“That’s the master bedroom,” Maggie supplies, and Dana nods.

She steps through cautiously, feeling like an intruder. There’s a king size bed on a maple sleigh frame in the middle of the furthest wall, and a matching dresser opposite. She approaches the bed, picking up a framed photograph on one of the side tables and inspecting it with clinical detachment. In it, she and Cal stand on a beach, sun on their faces and wind pushing her hair around haphazardly. Cal’s arm is extended and the photo is close cropped, indicating they took it themselves. He is smiling broadly and her lips are pressed to his cheek, her eyes closed. She stares at the photo, begging her mind to call forth a memory, a feeling, a sense of recognition. She feels nothing.

She returns the picture and looks over the rest of the items on the table: an alarm clock, a Dean Koontz novel, a set of foam earplugs. She crosses to the other side table and finds a dog-eared copy of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, a bottle of lotion, chapstick, and a pair of reading glasses. While the items are not familiar, it seems clear that this is her side of the bed. She carefully pulls the drawer on the side table open, and almost slams it back closed before she realizes that these are her belongings. A half-used box of condoms, a bottle of KY jelly, and a small egg-shaped device attached to a remote that she has to assume is a vibrator, though it looks nothing like her most recent recollection of such a tool.

She wanders into the master bathroom and feels her first glimpse of a positive emotion when she sees a large soaking tub. There is also a stall shower, and a large walk in closet. She runs her hands over the fabric of her clothes, gathering it up and bringing it to her nose. She does the same with Cal’s clothes, hoping for some kind of spark. It’s all just stuff, neither offensive nor familiar. Just things in a room in a house in a town. Things that could belong to anyone, but somehow belong to her.

She makes her way back to where Maggie is still standing at the top of the stairs. Dana flashes her eyes only briefly at her mother, long enough to watch the hopeful look fall from her face.

“It’s okay, Dana,” Maggie says reassuringly, though Dana can hear the tightness in her throat. She feels like a disappointment, like a letdown. She wishes she knew when she might feel something other than lost.

They find Cal in the kitchen, hunkered down at the island scribbling on a legal pad. He stands when they enter the room, and Dana averts her eyes so she doesn’t have to watch Maggie confirm that no memories were called forth while they were upstairs. She still doesn’t remember. She still doesn’t know who she is.

“I wrote some things down for you,” Cal says hopefully, sliding the legal pad toward her. “Just some basics about me and the kids. Michelle said it might help you remember, or at least feel less confused.”

Dana pushes her mouth into a smile and glances at the paper. At the top it says:

Calvin Michael Rose DOB 05/29/62

Abigail Margaret Rose DOB 12/12/93

Peter Calvin Rose DOB 03/29/96

Beneath the three names, squeezed in as a clear afterthought:

Dana Katherine Rose DOB 2/23/64

“I do remember my own birthday,” she says softly, then looks at Cal and attempts a genuine smile. “So at least I’ve got that going for me.”

Cal hesitates, trying to read her, and then a relieved smile stretches across his face.

“Damn, I was hoping maybe I could get away with forgetting it next year,” he quips half-heartedly, and something that feels a little bit like hope stirs in her chest.

There’s a screech from outside and Dana’s eyes widen.

“That’s the kids,” Maggie says with thinly veiled panic as she hurries to the front door.

Dana stays put, her heart leaping into her throat. Cal gives her a long look and then follows Maggie down the hallway, and Dana listens as they greet the children.

“Grammie!”

“Abby girl, did you grow again since I saw you last? I specifically told you to stop that!”

“I can’t stop growing, Grammie, that’s unpossible.”

“Grammie, I growed a million feet last night!”

“Oh my goodness, you’re right, Pete! How will you fit in your bed?”

A long pause.

“Grammie’s joking, bud, you’ll still fit in your bed.”

“Is Mommy home?”

Another long pause.

“Yes, she is, would you like to say hi?”

“Does she remember me?”

“You know what, kiddo, her brain is still working really hard to remember everything.”

“Mommy doesn’t know us?”

“Of course she knows you, Abby. Her heart knows you, okay? Her brain is just still a little confused from getting bumped on the head.”

The quick tramp of feet skitter down the hall, and Dana braces herself.

“Whoa, Pete, hold on—”

“Mommy, I finded a rock what looks like a dinosaur egg!”

A small boy comes flying into the room, looking around and then making a determined beeline toward her with an outstretched hand. He has dark features and big, protruding ears. She immediately notes how much he looks like Cal, though she’s unsettled by the familiar set of his mouth—one she’s seen in the mirror on many occasions. He steps right up close and holds out a smooth white rock that is speckled with black spots.

“It’s a egg from a T-Rex, Mommy! I finded it in Eric’s yard!” he says proudly, grabbing onto her arm for leverage as he pushes up on his tiptoes to get the rock as close to her face as possible.

“Wow,” she stammers, accepting the proffered rock and examining it. “This is really cool, Pete.”

She looks up and sees Cal and a young girl standing in the doorway of the kitchen. The girl is half-hidden behind Cal’s body, her cheek pressed against his hip. She has long, reddish-brown hair and a fair complexion, and her mouth is twisted into a suspicious scowl.

“Hi, Abby,” she says gently, her heart aching with the knowledge that a known and loved mother has been swapped with a changeling, that being herself. Whatever her own struggle to find her place in this life, she cannot allow these children to lose their parent.

Abby moves further behind Cal, only one of her eyes peeking out around his body. Cal reaches behind his back and tries to encourage her out, pivoting to make himself less useful as a barrier.

“Come on, honey, it’s okay,” he gently coaxes her.

“It’s okay, Cal, don’t force her,” Dana insists, and Cal drops his arms in resignation as Abby presses her face into his lower back and wraps her arms around his hips.

“Mommy, do you know me?” Pete asks, his face screwed up into a comically emphatic expression of doubt.

Dana crouches down so that she is eye level with the child and searches his face. He’s a cute kid: long, dark eyelashes, little chiclet teeth, a button of a nose. She has the distinct impression that she has never before seen him until this moment.

“Of course, you’re Pete!” she says brightly, and the child’s mouth springs into a wide, gummy smile.

“I knowed it!” he declares triumphantly, turning to address his sister. “Mommy knows us, Abby!” he tells her, but the elder child only tightens her grip on her father.

Dana stands and meets Cal’s eye, and he blinks at her somberly as he understands that she is just placating the children.

“Who wants pizza?” he asks with energy in his voice that does not translate to his body.

“Me! I do!” the children squeal, Abby emerging from behind her father to jump up and down with one arm raised.

“Sounds great,” Dana says, though she doubts that she has any room for pizza beside the rock that currently sits heavy in her gut.

-

“I’m only forty minutes away, Dana,” Maggie says as she lowers herself into the driver’s seat of her car.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” Dana asks hopefully, glancing over her shoulder to the house—her house.

“I’ll end up stuck in rush hour traffic if I wait much longer,” Maggie explains.

“Oh…okay,” Dana says, taking one step back so Maggie has room to close the door.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” Maggie reassures her, and a sudden onslaught of tears thickens Dana’s throat. “I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

Dana looks at the ground and nods, feeling like a fearful child.

She watches from the driveway until her mother’s car disappears around the corner and out of sight, and then slowly makes her way back into the house. She hears chatter from the kitchen as soon as she steps through the door, and she pauses to listen for a moment.

“Look how long my cheese can stretch,” Abby says with a full mouth.

“Very impressive,” Cal replies.

“What’s that, Daddy?” Pete asks.

“It’s a mushroom, bud.”

“Blech! That’s a-scusting!” Pete shouts dramatically.

“That just means more for me,” Cal retorts, following it with a series of yummy noises as Pete laughs heartily.

Dana makes her way down the hall, standing uncomfortably at one end of the island and surveying the scene. One box of cheese pizza lies open, and another with an assortment of meats and vegetables that doesn’t look especially appetizing. Cal is seated between the two children, and there is an open seat beside Abby that is presumably meant to be hers.

“Sit down,” Cal suggests with a nod toward the open chair. “I got half with no sausage for you.”

Dana takes a plate and selects a slice of pizza sans sausage, then moves carefully toward the seat beside Abby. Abby glances at Cal and he nods softly in reassurance. Dana takes a small bite, pushing it around in her mouth.

“How was your day today, Abby?” she asks, and Abby looks at her like she has three heads.

“Abby had soccer today, right?” Cal prompts her, and Abby stares at her plate.

“I can throw a ball really, really far!” Pete interjects.

“I’d love to see that,” Dana tells him, and the four-year-old beams.

“You’ve already seen him do it a hundred million times,” Abby grumbles.

“Abigail,” Cal warns her sternly.

“It’s okay,” Dana says quietly, giving him a pleading look over Abby’s head.

They finish their meal amiably, with Pete happily taking the spotlight and filling any gaps in conversation. Dana offers to clean the kitchen while Cal takes the children upstairs to get ready for bed, then spends the better part of fifteen minutes trying to find the recycling before she concludes that they must not recycle. Finally, she pads up the stairs and follows the sounds of voices to the half-open door of Abby’s room.

“It’s okay, honey, Mommy just needs some time for her brain to feel better,” Cal says gently, and there is a wet sniff.

“She doesn’t even know who I am, Daddy,” the little girl whines, and Dana’s heart clutches. “She keeps calling me Abby.”

“That’s your name!” Pete points out, and Cal shushes him.

“I know it is, bud, but Mommy always calls Abby her special name, remember?”

“She calls me Peter Peter Punkin Eater,” Pete says sadly.

“Only sometimes, Pete.”

“What if she never, ever remembers us?” Abby asks pleadingly, and there is a long pause.

“I think she will, honey. I don’t know how long it will take, but I know Mommy loves you so much, she could never forget you.”

Another wet sniff and a shuddering inhale.

“Can you read Animal Daddies and My Daddy?” Abby asks.

Dana waits in the formal sitting room until she hears a heavy sigh and Cal’s footsteps on the stairs. She stands abruptly and he startles, then rubs one hand over his face.

“They’re asleep,” he says, and she recognizes the domestic familiarity of the exchange.

“Cal, I’m sorry—” she starts, and he holds up his hand.

“Don’t do that, Dana. It’s not your fault. They’ll be okay, kids are resilient. And I can see—I know you’re trying.” She nods in agreement, and he gives her a long look. “I’m exhausted, I’m just going to grab a few things from our room and I’ll take the guest bed.”

Our room.

“No, please, I hate to kick you out of your own bedroom,” she says, though she is immediately relieved that he hadn’t been expecting to share a bed with her tonight.

Cal stares at her, and she senses that he is debating whether to say what he’s thinking.

“It’s your room too, Dana,” he points out with pain in his voice.

Dana closes her eyes briefly, wondering if she will stop stepping on landmines anytime soon.

“I know, sorry. I’d just feel more comfortable if I take the guest room, if that’s okay,” she tries.

“Sure,” he aquiesces with a sigh. “Why don’t you go up and grab whatever you need? You can use the kid’s bathroom if you want. Whatever feels…best.”

She slips past him up the stairs and rifles through her own belongings in search of what she needs. Thirty minutes later, she pulls back the covers on the guest bed and tries to get comfortable. She feels wrung out and overtired, but her brain keeps buzzing and buzzing, searching for something to hold on to. Something real.

_

Her hands move through hot, soapy water that nearly reaches her elbows. She feels around for something to wash, green countertops bordering her visual field. She’s comfortable, safe, a little bit excited. She feels like this is a place she’s supposed to be. Music pipes in from somewhere nearby and her hips sway along. Suddenly, someone is right behind her, touching her. Hands slide down her arms and beneath the water, fingers intertwining with hers. She steps back, and begins to turn to face the figure—

“Mommy, I finded the clue!”

Dana sits up with a gasp, her heart pounding in her throat. She scans the room, disoriented. Where is she?

“Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper didn’t find the clue before me!”

She looks to her right and sees Pete, clad in Superman jammies, clutching a stuffed blue dog to his side.

“Hey, Pete,” she croaks, her heart slowing as she places herself. “You found a clue?”

Pete scrambles up onto the bed and climbs under the blankets beside her.

“Yep, I finded the paw print what Blue left and they didn’t even see it. I figured out Blue’s clue cause I’m really really smart,” Pete explains proudly.

Dana looks down at him, tucked comfortably against her side. While she doesn’t remember him per se, she does feel a maternal tug towards his impish disposition and how readily he’s accepted her. She wraps one arm around his shoulder and gives him a half-hug.

“That’s really cool, Pete. Great job,” she says fondly.

“I’m gonna go see the rest,” Pete says, and just as quickly as he arrived, he disappears from the room.

Dana flops back onto the bed and stares at the ceiling. Her dream is already slipping away, and she tries to cling to the details. She was washing dishes, maybe. Someone else was there. It feels like a memory, but she can’t access the rest of it.

He. He was there. Him. She doesn’t know it by any factual measure, but she knows it in her heart. Where is he? Who is he? She wants to find out so badly it hurts.

Tagging @today-in-fic

[vexing-imogen]

I Do What I Must

There is a difference, Athena thinks, between desire and intention. Did she want to kill Calliope? Certainly not. Goddess of War she may be, but she is not the bloodthirsty brute that Ares was. Idol blood was precious and she would not spill a drop unless absolutely necessary.

Intent, however? Yes, killing Calliope had been her intention. And she'd succeeded as she often did. It should have worked perfectly. The others would have been angry at first, to be sure. But with Apollo's help explaining the prophecy, and the benefit of time, they would have seen that she was right. That she had only done what she did for the good of the people she had sworn an oath to protect.

If only Calliope had been willing to accept her fate. If only she had not gotten Grace involved.

In any other circumstance, Athena would have been delighted to welcome Grace as the new Muse. She was clever, she was charming. In just a few short days, she'd sent waves through their little pond that would continue to ripple far after she was gone. Calliope could not have chosen better.

Athena does not want to kill Grace. But she does intend to.

"You summoned me, ma'am?" Hermes pops into her office; punctual, eager, and just a little skittish, as usual.

She smiles at them. "I did. I'd like to have a word with Grace," she says. "Just a little check-in, to see how her investigation is progressing. Could you bring her here? As quickly as you can."

Hermes salutes. "On it." Their eyes start to glow, but before they can open a portal, they bite their lip and turn back to her. "Um, Athena, ma'am? Can I ask you something?"

She raises an eyebrow, but nods and gestures for them to continue.

"Do you really think that Grace killed Cal?" they ask, scratching the back of their neck. "'cause it's just...I was there, right? Like, immediately after Calliope died, and Grace was just, like, freaked the fuck out. But not in the 'I just killed someone' way. More in the 'this chick just died in my arms and now I'm a god' kind of way. Y'know?"

It is only through multiple millennia of practice that Athena keeps the smile on her face. "Well, that is for her to prove, isn't it?" she says, watching them swallow hard. "But thank you for your insight."

They salute again, hand shaking, and they disappear through a portal mere seconds after.

Athena takes the time alone to observe her office. She adjusts the plate of cookies on her desk just so to make them more appealing. Her eyes find her dagger, hidden in plain sights. Nestled amongst Zeus' laurels, Hades' helm, and Demeter's scythe, it looks like just another relic of ancient times.

Her door glows gold and Grace steps through the portal, trying to hide that she's still rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Hey," she says, clearing her throat. "Hermes said that you wanted to talk about...stuff."

"That I do," Athena says. "Have a seat, Grace."

And so they talk. Or rather, Athena lets Grace talk. She knows much of what has occurred already, Bubo is such a talented scout, but she wants to hear it from Grace's perspective.

She is less worried about what Grace herself knows, the girl is blissfully unaware that she will not be leaving this office alive, but she needs information on the other Idols. Who might be having second thoughts, who might become a problem in the future...

There is a list in her mind as the conversation winds down (Persephone is at the very top. Grace doesn't seem to realize just how many times the goddess' name had cropped up as she talked.), but that is something for Athena to focus on later. For now...

"Have a cookie?" she suggests, nudging the plate forward.

Grace takes one with a shrug, her eyes widening when she bites into it. "Damn, that's good," she mumbles, The cookie is gone before she stands, and she doesn't make it three steps before she wobbles.

She stumbles into a shelf, knocking a few books to the ground, as she turns to stare at Athena. "You?" she asks, clearly trying to piece the evidence together through a drug induced fog.

Athena nods as she steps around her desk, taking the dagger as she does. Her free arm goes around Grace's back, holding the girl upright as she struggles to maintain consciousness. She feels a pang of sympathy as fingernails scrape ineffectually against her bracer. She looks so young like this; panicked and scrambling, a rabbit caught in a snare.

"I wish I didn't have to do this," she says gently, positioning the dagger between the third and fourth ribs; the quickest path to the heart. "But it's what the prophecy demands, Grace. We cannot go against Fate."

"Prophecy?" Grace's struggling starts to slow. "You don't-" Her words start to slur. "Please..."

Athena has to take a breath and remind herself that she is not at fault here. Calliope could have prevented this. She didn't have to seek Grace out, didn't have to pass her Eidolon to an unsuspecting mortal, didn't have to doom her to a shared fate.

The blade slides in so easily after that.

Grace lets out a whimpering cry, tears gathering in eyes that are beginning to glow gold. The faintest pulse of Calliope's Eidolon can be seen through her shirt, on the cusp of escaping, though Grace is fighting to keep it in.

Athena twists the dagger in Grace's chest, feeling and hearing bones crack as she does. Grace gasps, and then coughs up a mouthful of blood onto Athena's chiton.

There is a moment of peace as she watches the life fade from Grace's eyes, though the Eidolon remains stubbornly in her chest.

And then the rest of the Chorus bursts through her doors, and she has no time to react as three pairs of eyes pierce into her with anguish, horror, and fury.

She has a moment to regret her decision to keep potted plants as vines ensnare her and anchor her to the nearest wall. Aphrodite hurries to Grace, cradling the dying girl in her arms. Persephone's eyes dart between Grace and Athena, her expression caught somewhere between devastation and murder. Ultimately, she joins Aphrodite, curling over Grace as though to shield her from further harm. Her fingers shake as they caress a pale cheek.

Apollo stands frozen in the doorway. When he finally speaks, his voice is laden with guilt. "Athena, what did you do?"

She fights to answer as vines threaten to crush her trachea. "I did what had to be done."