#I wasn't sure about the fourth one but the person in front of them doesn't care what happened to the father he only doing his service

[blackbirdsblackberries]

AQUIRING A ZOO

Chapter 1: A Ruff Day for two

Damian is humiliated. Who wouldn't be? Joker had teamed up with a bunch of other villains and had stolen a magical device that turns people into animals - why? Damian doesn't know!

While fighting however he was split from the rest of the family and hit with the ray.

You want to guess what animal he got the luck of turning into?

If you guessed a Yorkshire Terrier then you'd be correct.

It's not that Damian doesn't like the animal, he adores all animals no matter what, it's just offensive that that's what he ended up being. Couldn't he have been something cooler? A Doberman? A German Shepherd?

Whatever... Either way he is now wondering the streets trying not to get picked up by strangers - or stepped on for that matter.

While lost in thought about how he will get back to normal and whether his family are okay he didn't see the pair of legs standing in front of a closed shop.

He bumps into them, as soon as he does he dashes back and starts to growl - it's really all he can do.

He looks up at the figure who looks more confused than anything, they have a phone in their hand and pajamas on. They look half asleep.

Damian quickly deducts that the person was harmless.

Honestly, Damian was ready to just leave, walk around this person, yet when he attempted to a loud bang filled the air.

He swears it was the dog instincts, that it wasn't his own instincts, that made him run behind the person.

He's Damian Wayne! An al Ghul for crying out loud! No way is he scared of an explosion, even if it was even louder as a dog.

The person reacts slowly, clearly extremely tired. They turn to look at Damian and after a couple seconds they speak up, pulling Damian from his fight or flight response.

"Poor puppy... Are you lost?" The person bends down and slowly and carefully pats Damian. Damian is tempted to bite the person's hand off but refrains in case they call the pound.

"your coat is so well taken care of... Not to mention the fact that you're a handbag dog. You must belong to one of the wealthy elites... That part of town is so far away from here though, poor thing" their voice is soft, clearly tired. They yawn slightly.

"it's pretty late right now so the pound is probably closed, I'll take you tomorrow to check for a microchip because I don't see a collar."

Damian wishes he could scoff as a dog. Why would this stranger help him? Especially the breed he is. They're noisy, skittish and more, definitely not the type for run down apartments that this person definitely lives in.

Yet, he doesn't bite or growl when they pick him up. He squirms slightly in discomfort but soon enough they hold him properly.

Fine. He'll stay the night then in the morning he'll make his way back to Wayne Manor and find his family.

You have decided that your luck is absolute shit. It has to be. You're pretty sure whatever god is watching is purposefully planning your demise.

First, your lover of three years cheats on you.

Second, you fail two of your exams and forgot to hand in an assignment.

Third, your favorite convenience store closed early so you couldn't buy a tub of cheap ice cream so you can act out how a person in a movie would react to all of the above.

Fourth, a dog stumbles into you, clearly from some wealthy douche and now you've spoken before you thought and moved before you could comprehend.

Your landlord is going to have your head. A great way to end the shit show of a day, not to mention Yorkshire Terrier's are the most yap filled dogs imaginable. Luckily this one is quiet... Hopefully for the rest of the night.

You look down at your phone in your other hand, you were messaging your dad to ask for more money because you were recently fired from your last job.

It's not like you like asking others for money, it's embarrassing, but your dad is well off enough to send some over.

You and your family are stable, something a lot of people in Gotham can't relate to. Sucks to be them you guess.

The only reason you're living alone is because they live in Metropolis and you were studying at Gotham University.

Was the degree worth living in this dump of a city? You sure hope so. If not you'll actually become a villain.

You glance at the dog from time to time, checking for any discomfort. The dog is still, eyes blinking occasionally. Was it in thought? You didn't think dogs would think like that.

Eventually you make it to your apartment complex, it was better than the one next to it, but to be fair the one next to it was abandoned after a fire.

You head upstairs to your apartment on the third floor.

Turns out the higher the apartment from the ground is, the higher it will cost. Luckily for you your mother is paying for it, you just pay utility bills.

You struggle with your keys and the dog in your arms. Eventually though you open the door and all but throw the dog down, he was super heavy.

That or you just weren't used to holding anything that breathes.

The dog walks in and sniffs around.

"I suppose I should name you.." You speak aloud, closing the front door of the apartment and walking to the kitchen right next to it.

"how about... Buddy?" The dog huffs.

"No? Okay uhm... What are dog names? Give me a second." You search up dog names and click on an article.

"Uh, Oreo?" A huff.

"Max?" A huff.

You continue going down the list before groaning.

"Fuck me... Forget it, I'll put on the TV and the first name I see will be your name."

You grab the remote and turn on your shitty old TV. The news pops up, one of the headlines reading:

Robin seen being hit with animal ray!

"huh... What about Robin?" The dog rolls it's eyes but doesn't seem to object. You smile, relieved.

"Good. Robin it is."

[magicians-abode]

"A slip of the tongue"

[Chilchuck Tims x gender neutral reader]

Warnings: none ‐ fluff ahead - one suggestive comment

At some point during the group's adventuring themselves deep into the dungeon once again, although he wasn't sure when, Chilchuck grew accustomed, in a way, to the way you treated him so differently from the rest.

You always liked to tease him and compliment him. Not like you didn't compliment the others. But you seemed to have a knack for sparing all your attention for when he was near you.

And despite his own rules of not mixing his personal life with work, he found himself sighing in annoyance at himself when he noticed how everyday he'd expect, almost too happy for his own liking, a compliment from you.

Today was no different for everyone. They'd been wondering through the halls of the fourth floor when Marcille's stomach rumbled, catching the attention of everyone.

—Sorry... so much walking is making me hungry again— she huffed, knowing damn well that Senshi would probably make them stop to cook another hearty monster based meal.

—Yeah, me too. After all, we've only had those coinbugs today as a snack. They were tasty but not that filling— (y/n) said as they placed a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. Everyone agreed to keep walking a bit more and then they would stop to eat properly this time.

And when they reached to that point, Senshi murmured something about "keeping the young ones well nourished" and he got to work on the cooking.

Chilchuck offered to help by peeling something he didn't remember the name of right now, and (y/n) couldn't help but stare as he worked skillfully with his hands.

—Those hands would be good with a partner— they mumble to him as they decide to sit by his side. The comment makes his hands falter for a quick moment, and he looks up at them perplexed.

—Don't go around saying things like that!— he huffs to them, a spark of a blush blooming on his frowning face.—That is so inappropriate...— he mumbles with embarrassment as he goes back to peeling, and (y/n) doesn't bother containing the giggle that erupts from them.

—You're so handsome when you blush, you know that?—.

—I'm not blushing— he denied the fact— and yes I am handsome, you don't need to tell me.— Despite his own embarrassment, he didn't pass the opportunity for playful or teasing banter. That's just how he was. And that's just how they loved him.

Marcille watched them and nudged Laios, excited as if she were reading another one of the chapters on her romance novels. Laios just smiled and went back to watching Senshi cook, more interested in the food than in their companions flirting with each other.

Marcille was glad she had something else to pay attention to beside the monster cooking in front of her that she had to consume later.

—You took your gloves off...— (y/n) noticed, paying that much attention to him.

—Well I wouldn't want to... contaminate the food— he mumbled. (y/n) looked at his hands, and then at the gloves, and then at their own hands. They wondered if he wouldn't mind if they just...

Slipping the finger-less gloves on one hand and then the other, the leather cold to the touch, they gasp in an exaggerated manner just to catch his attention.

—They're so comfy— they close and open their hands, and Chilchuck turns their head to see what they were talking about.

—What is–? Hey! Who said you could borrow my gloves?— he forgets the knife and the food he finished peeling and goes to grab their hands— you desperately want to be me that much?— he chuckles teasingly, observing their fingers. —honestly they don't look half bad on you— he places the palms of his hands softly against (y/n)'s, looking at the difference.

—Oh my spells, just kiss already!— shouts an incredibly happy Marcille as she watches them interact in such an adorable way, interrupting their moment.

Chilchuck scoffs, looking away but not letting go of their hands— as if— he mumbles pretending to be upset by her "stupid" comment. In reality, his heart pounded in his chest as the idea flashed on his mind, igniting a blush on his cheeks once again.

—Ouch, you think I'm that ugly?— they pout playfully, placing a hand over their chest in fake hurt.

—I–! stop it!— he tsked, his eyes flying to look at them—I never said that!— he admits aloud.

His cheeks flush further in realization, even his ears going red at his slip.

—Aww— Marcille and Laios watch from the sidelines, amused by how they joked with each other.

—Thank you— (y/n) mumbles to him, sort of embarrassed by the sudden compliment as they watch Chilchuck cross his arms.

—Whatever...— he stands up and walks to where Senshi is, faking sudden interest in the food that was almost done.

His heart beat wildly inside his ribcage, and the thought that, maybe growing closer to one party member wasn't that bad, crossed his mind to stay there for a while.

[solitaryearthperson]

A Misunderstanding

Summary: Bruce thinks the reader fears him when it's quite the opposite.

(The reader is gender-neutral and uses they/them pronouns. The ethnicity/race is preferably a person of color.)

"Where's (Y/N)," Bruce asked, his eyes not lifting up from the beaker in front of him as he continued to pour more chemicals in.

"They're getting us coffee. Be here any minute," Tony replied, sitting in a seat not far away from Bruce's table, but still on his side of the lab, casually picking up a vial to play with.

"They're our assistant, not servant," Bruce told him, lifting his gaze and instantly furrowing his brow at seeing the vial in Tony's hands. "Put that back, please."

"I'll put it back, when I have my coffee," Tony told him, to which Bruce rolled his eyes, expecting Tony to be his usual difficult self, even when it's early in the morning.

The sound of the lab doors opening made both geniuses turn to see you entering, holding in both hands, cups of coffee, each one specifically made for them both. "Brought the coffee you wanted."

As Tony quickly grabbed his coffee, offering a quick 'thank you' before putting the vial back in its place, Bruce watched you carefully. He had a suspicion about you from the moment you began working in the lab with them and he wanted to confirm it to Tony.

"Hey (Y/N)," he said, watching your face and examining your body language closely. The second your name came out of his mouth, your body slightly jumped. He darted his eyes over to Tony to see if he was watching, and was quickly satisfied to find that he was.

"Could you just sit mine down, please?" He pointed to a far spot on the table.

He noticed the big gulp you made before nodding your head and making your way to his table and sitting down the coffee cup.

He pretended to pay close attention to the beaker, but really he slightly moved his eyes to your hand as you sat the coffee down and noticed the third sign that his suspicions about you were correct. Even though you tried to hide it, he could clearly see your hand slightly trembling. The fourth sign was revealed to him at the same time as he noticed that the hair on your arm was raised, as if in alarm. Every single time, he thought.

"Hey (Y/N), could you go upstairs, and tell Cap to come down here," Tony asked you, opening a drawer in his desk. "I wanna test something on his shield."

"Sure thing, Mr. Stark," You said, before leaving to do as directed, and Bruce couldn't help but notice the way you left was very quickly, almost as if you were hurrying out to get away from him.

When the sound of the lab doors closing behind you was heard that's when Bruce decided to speak up.

"You saw it, right," He asked Tony.

"Saw what?"

"Literally everything they just did," Bruce said, taking off his glasses and placing them on the table before walking over to Tony's side of the lab, and leaned against his desk. "The jumping, trembling, and even the way they hurried out of here just now."

"What does any of that mean, exactly?"

Sighing, Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, already knowing this might be difficult to speak with him about. "They're scare of me."

Tony tried to prevent the grin that wanted to appear and kept his face neutral as he responded, "Scared of you?"

"Yes. I know it."

"And why would they be so scared of you? You haven't hulked out in a while. They've only seen you in your nerdy, scientist attire, not as a green monster. There's no reason to be scared."

"We know why they're scared. Doesn't matter if I've hulked out or not. I'm still dangerous."

Taking a sip of his coffee, Tony sighed knowing that Bruce still wasn't sure of himself being on the team or being in such close proximity to any of them. "Banner, I'm gonna be as honest as I can with you," he said, stepping towards him, and putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You are literally the softest person ever."

"Tony," Bruce tried to interrupt him.

"You're basically a teddy bear with glasses. Nothing about you besides Hulk is dangerous, okay?"

Shaking his head, Bruce tried to ignore the growing frustration he was feeling. He didn't know why it bothered him so bad, but it did. Well, that was technically a lie. He knew why it bothered him, but he hoped that working with them for so long could have remedied that. He knows that he should be used to this by now, but knowing that you, of all people, was scared of him made him feel so much worse than any other person would. "I know what fear looks like, Tony, and it looked like they were scared."

"Please talk to them about it, before jumping to conclusions about this. Can you do that?" Tony had seen all the signs that Bruce had seen for a while and had come to understand what they really were, and hoped that Bruce would soon figure it out.

"Fine. I'll talk to them about it."

~LATER THAT NIGHT~

It was close to 1 in the morning, when Bruce looked away from the computer screen at the sound of the lab door opening, and when he turned to see who had entered, he found himself instantly become nervous seeing that it was you.

"Dr. Banner," You greeted him, smiling politely at him.

"(Y/N)," he greeted back. "What brings you here?"

"Mr. Stark told me to come down and check on you. Plus, he said that you wanted to talk to me about something important."

Of course, he did, Bruce thought, moving away from the computer and sitting down next to one of the lab tables. He couldn't help but notice you seemed to be staying far away from his side of the lab.

"Yeah, I did, (Y/N). It's important."

"Okay. What is it?"

"You do know that if you have any fears, any worries about working here, you can voice them, right?"

"Yeah, of course I do," you told him, nodding your head.

"So do you want to talk about you being scared of me?"

"What-What are you talking about?" You stammered, closing some of the distance between you two.

"(Y/N)," Bruce sighed, closing his eyes for a second before opening them again to look at you. "Ever since you've started here, you've been jumpy around me and keeping your distance from me. You always hesitate to come up to me, like you're scared I'm gonna hurt you."

A look of recognition and embarrassment came over your face and you opened your mouth to explain yourself to him, but before you could say anything, Bruce spoke again.

"I understand why you'd be feeling this way, but-"

"Dr. Banner, I'm so sorry. This is a big misunderstanding -"

"I promise you're not in any danger with me," he continued.

"I'm not scared of you, Dr. Banner-"

"I have control over the big guy. There won't be any incidents of him coming out-"

"Dr. Banner, I like you," you blurted out loudly, interrupting him in the middle of his sentence.

"What," he asked, a look of surprise and confusion upon his face.

Seeing how shocked he looked, you felt heat come to your face and quickly darted your eyes away from him. You never wanted to tell him like this, but to be really honest, you never wanted to tell him period.

"You-You like... me," he asked, shock and confusion still present on his face. "Why were you being so jumpy and-and weird around me then?"

"I didn't know I was being weird," you confessed, walking around the lab table and pulling a nearby chair to sit down next to him, ignoring the burning in your cheeks and your fast heartbeat. "I didn't know how to act around you, and not show my crush, so I thought I could keep my distance. Thought it would better hide it."

"Oh" was all he said, his face suddenly not revealing what he was feeling anymore.

"Um, if you don't want me to work here in the lab with you now, then I completely understand," you said to him, mistaking his silence as a silent rejection.

"Why would I want that?" He asked, confused. Now that you confessed how you felt about him, he thought that now is a great time to confess his feelings as well. "I like you too."

His confession shocked you and it took a second for you to reply.

"You do?"

"Yeah," he nodded, chuckling softly.

"Oh... Well, would you mind going on a date with me or are you uncomfortable with going with your assistant?" You asked, curious and wanting to make sure that he wouldn't feel too weird about it.

"That depends,...will you jump and keep your distance from me the whole time," he joked.

"No, I won't, Dr. Banner," you replied, laughing softly.

"Bruce," he corrected, smiling at you, making a fluttery feeling begin in your stomach. "Call me Bruce."

"Sure thing,... Bruce," you said, excited to finally go on a date with the man you've been secretly pining for forever. "Sure thing."

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Random Hobie Headcanons [Prt.1]

me screaming about Hobie Brown just existing like these are just random headcanons of him doing fuck all and chilling but uuhhh this is also so long i had to split it in two parts so this is part one

chronic hobie brainrot u know how it is _______________________________________________

He's actually a fairly high ranking member of the Society

I like to think that Hobie - like Jessica and Ben - has a high ranking position in the Society

Even though he didn't mean for this to happen

Hobie's really good at working with teams, and persuading people. He's been Spider-man for a while, plus he has unique experience

He broke the barrier that 3 spider-people couldn't - sorry Miles you didn't loosen anything

Hobie would probably just ace every mission. In like record time

Miguel and Lyla watching it go from HQ and Lyla's like 'Oh, he's gooodd.'

The watches get a bug and need an update - but low and behold, Hobie knew about the bug and fixed his watch weeks ago. Chumps.

They need advice in taking down a particular anomally and Hobie is the only one with ideas that work -

And sure he may take the piss out of everyone and walk around HQ like he either owns the place or is about to burn it down but they can't tell him anything

He's just that good

I could see him helping out new trainees (and radicalizing them), checking in on every new recruit to see if they have a place to stay.

And Miguel respects that. Miguel isn't heartless, he cares about the society. And even though Hobie isn't doing it for him he appreciates the work Hobie puts in

Miguel probably knows Hobie is friends with Gwen, and that he was the one who stepped up when Jess wasn't

He loves to read

It just makes sense

With all the knowledge of anarchy and stuff, I assume he kinda has to be

I love the idea of Hobie and worn paper-back books that he reads again and again

All well loved, all second (or third, or fourth-) hand.

I imagine he reads a lot of non-fiction, and his favorite genre is history

He doesn't know why, but his brain loves reading about it and understanding the communities that existed in different times

But there are some fiction favorites he has, The Giver being one of them

He donates all the ones he doesn't absolutely need, leaving a sticky note in the front cover with a comment, same way he left one on Gwen's new watch

Hobie is a minimalist in morals

But not like the 'all white-house' aesthetic, but like the 'choosing to live with and on less to respect yourself, people around you and the world'

Everything he owns is second hand, and he likes finding really old cheap stuff, cause it connects back to the history thing

Every couch he's ever owned he's found on a street curb

He doesn't have much clothes, most of the stuff he does have were gifts, or from bands and shows

Instead, he goes to community swap-meets, and swaps his clothes for new ones every couple of months

He LOVES seeing other people in the punk scene wearing a shirt he'd swapped months ago, knowing it's gotten a second life

Hobie genuinelly tries not to throw things away if he can help it. Not in a hoarders way, but in an environmentally respectful way.

If he doesn't want it, he'll barter it away, or gift it to someone who'd like it, or make something new.

Even if something is broken, he'll try to gift it to someone who can fix it than trash it. He'd rather leave his busted TV at the door of a repair shop than a back-alley dumpster

He's low food-waste too

He's like 'Miguel bruv we don't waste empanadas in this house' and takes them for himself

He tries to finish everything on his plate (past survival tactic), but now he'll save it for later. Hobie be tearing leftovers UP.

He makes the choice to not carry money

Connects to the minimalist thing, also an anti-capitalist thing

Hobie doesn't like carrying money. As a personal thing.

Fuck he look like keeping pictures of the Queen in his pocket - absolutely not.

He barters everything he can - and he's good at it. He has an extensive network in the underground punk scene of London, and everyone helps out everyone

Weirdly enough, I feel like if you were dating him he's always ask for a fiver or ten quid or something because he genuinely doesn't carry money or change but somehow he's carrying a rare swiss army knife from 1935

But on the inverse side, if he ever comes across money for some reason, he'll have you 'hold it' in you wallet (just give it to you)

To him, it doesn't matter. He doesn't want to be attached to it. It's genuinely a moral he tries to live by.

He loves cats

He has a picture of a cat on his nightstand in his intro

I bet he has multiple indoor cats

But I also imagine Hobie being really interested and connected in the street cats in the neighborhood he lives and frequents (bonus point if cats are his special interest!)

He names them and knows their faces. Feeds them and checks up on them, tries to take care of them best he can

The ones who get hurt or a little old or weak become boat-cats, and they come live with him

He'll feed them fish from the river - and they always eat before he eats breakfast

None of them have bells or collars, they're not his pets - they're his little friends

He had 'weird' but practical eating habits

Hobie eats standing up.

He'll open the fridge and eat right there. He'll set the bowl on the table then stand in front the TV eating. He goes to the food court and doesn't sit down, just walks about

He's use to eating on the street, so to him, it's comfortable

He grew up going to Gregg or Tesco and eating outside. Grabbing something from the chip shop and scranning it as fast as he can before the rain starts coming down

He actually likes food, and wish he could get more into it - but fuck, he'll never be like those snobs that eat $500 dollar dishes at shitty restaurants

Small routines

In the morning, he takes the boat to the docks. Brush his teeth and get ready for the day

Next he feeds the cats that stay by the water, eating breakfast and playing records

He doesn't make his bed, but he checks all the parts of the boat's engine, just a good once over, and makes sure everything's running right

And then he HAS to say hi to all the people on the docks who know him - old men who'd been working there for decades, delighted when Hobie offered to help them unionize

He always reads before bed too, or on restless nights, he writes songs - practices new songs.

if you read this far, thanks! let me know if any of this mattered at all or if youre like 'sib what does any of this got to do with anything of importance bye have a good day and/or night

[whattraintracks]

Look, I know what the people want, okay? The people want a self-indulgent HPI Morgadec rewrite of Castle S4E7.

Yeah, it's me. I'm the people.

Say hello to my newest obsession that I told myself I wasn't going to write fic about but A) I'm a dirty liar, B) I have lots of stuff to procrastinate right now, and C) I just finished all the seasons currently accessible in the US and this is my grieving process.

I don't know who the audience for this is other than myself, but I had a lot of fun writing it and felt like sharing!

Cops & Robbers Pt 1 - Next

Warnings for guns and hostage situations.

[]

"Ugh, Théa. Why did I have to come here?" Morgane trudges up the stairs to the bank with no small amount of disgust.

"Because I needed a ride," Théa repeats for the fourth time since they parked.

"Couldn't you have taken the bus?"

"No."

Théa informs the bank teller she's come to open her own account, and they're led to a cubicle where a man in a poorly fitted suit spouts financial drivel at them. She can't imagine how Théa can listen to a man who says things like, "It's all about interest."

She pops her bubblegum. "And there goes mine." Pushing out of her chair, she stage whispers to Théa. "If you need help, blink twice."

Théa looks supremely unamused, so she shrugs and wanders out of the cubicle. Propping her hip against a table covered in brochures, she settles in to people watch. Except. She's in a bank. No one here is interesting enough to watch. She pulls out her phone, clicking her nails against the case for the two rings it takes him to pick up.

"Karadec speaking."

"Tell me you need me," she begs.

Silence rings on the other end for a moment. He sounds short of breath when he responds, "Pardon?"

"Théa kidnapped me, and now I'm stuck at a bank. Please tell me that there's a murder somewhere I could be solving." She glances around the room. The only person who looks remotely interesting is a man in red scrubs and a trench coat. It's the get-up really. Intriguing, if only for how out of place it is.

Karadec sighs. She bets he's smiling, though. The way he does when he can't help himself. "Ah, no. Sorry. Just paperwork."

"Interesting paperwork?" she presses. Not that she'll help even if it is, but she can sit around the office and talk while everyone else works.

"Standard reports. A lot of them, though." He lowers his voice, and she leans in as if the phone isn't already pressed to her cheek. "Céline has the worst of it. She lost her coffee mug in the mountain of files on her desk."

"Oh gosh," she says, thrilled by his conspiratorial tone, "paperwork and an undercaffeinated Céline? That might even be worse than this place."

He huffs a laugh. "Sorry, Alvaro, you'll have to find stimulation elsewhere today."

She has a witty reply—really, she does—but she gets distracted by the front door swinging open to admit a woman with a surgical mask around her neck. She's wearing indigo scrubs and a trench coat. Like the man she noticed earlier. In fact, she walks past that man and nods as he rubs his nose.

She gasps, "Kara!"

"What?"

"This bank is about to get robbed!"

"What."

She creeps away from the table to hide behind a column, glancing behind her to check on Théa. "There's a man and a woman dressed in scrubs and trench coats. And. They both have suspicious bulges in their jackets."

"Alvaro. You should not sound so excited about this. Where are you?"

She doesn't quite register his question, watching the woman get in line for a bank teller. What was the secret signal for if they aren't doing anything yet? "They must be waiting for someone," she mutters.

A heavy clank has her whirling around to the door, where, sure enough, a third man in scrubs and a surgical mask slams a bike lock on the handles. He turns around, cocking an assault rifle. "Everybody, get down on the floor!"

Her sparked adrenaline bursts into an inferno of fear. Karadec curses, the man's demand no doubt loud enough to carry over the phone.

"Well." She crouches, whispering. "I was right."

"Alvaro, tell me what's happening. Tell me where you are."

The other two robbers pull their masks up, revealing their guns and shouting at everyone to come away from their stations and get on the ground. Morgane tucks her phone against her shoulder, returning to the cubicle and ushering Théa behind the banker's desk. Once out of sight, she rattles off the address. Rubbing a hand down Théa's back does little to soothe her nerves as she hears Karadec tell Gilles to call in the bank robbery.

The female robber tells everyone to slide up their cell phones. Morgane notes her Indian accent but remembers the man who locked the door sounded British. All of them hold their guns confidently, and she starts to get the impression that these people are professionals.

"Alvaro," Karadec prompts.

Théa tries to peek above the desk, but Morgane pushes her back down. A man spots her, staring wide-eyed at the phone pressed to her ear. She gestures desperately at him to keep quiet. He hesitates. Then nods.

"Morgane!" Karadec says urgently.

She gulps, "I'm here."

"Is Théa with you?"

"Yes." She turns to look into her daughter's frightened eyes.

"Good. Stay together. Can you tell me what's happening?"

"Right, yeah." She takes a breath, looking back over the desk. "We're hidden, but I can see everything. The robbers are in scrubs. One is emptying the cash drawers. Another is going for the bank manager." She pauses, watching the robber in red. "He's got the manager's key, and he's going to the back."

"Okay. That's good, Morgane. Do you know how many there are?"

"Three," she replies confidently. "And they all have—"

Théa gasps beside her, and she freezes at the sound of a gun cocking behind her.

She brings a hand to her mouth, confidence shattered by the metal pressed against her skull. She fights through her trembling lips to tell Karadec, "Make that four."

Karadec falls silent, as does the rest of the room, when the robber behind her declares, "So you're the hero I'm going to make an example of."

The other three robbers turn to the man behind her and she realises he must be their leader. Because Morgane couldn't just piss off any old criminal with a gun, she had to go and piss off the criminal in charge.

Her phone is pulled out of her hand, and a tall man in light blue scrubs steps around to face her. "Sorry," he says into the phone, "Your friend can't talk right now."

Before he can hang up, Karadec's voice rings out, "I wouldn't worry about her. You should worry about yourself. I've got patrol cars on their way."

"Supercop?" Théa whispers hopefully. Morgane nods slightly, tucking her daughter under her arm.

The man pulls up short. "You're a cop?" He says into the phone, then turns to her with a glimmer of agitation in his eyes. "You called a cop?"

"Of course not." He raises his gun to her face. "I swear!" she yelps, "We were on the line before you came in."

"Listen to me." Karadec draws the robber back in with a voice she's heard in dozens of interrogations. "So far, nobody's hurt, and nothing's been stolen. If you leave the way you came in, you can just disappear."

The robber scoffs, "And what? You'll promise not to come looking for me?"

Karadec's voice tips into something cold and sharp that sends ice down her spine. "I won't look for you. I will hunt you down. And trust me, you don't want that. So leave now, and this'll be a blip in the evening news."

Morgane stares into the barrel of the gun as the robber considers Karadec's threat.

Finally, he chuckles, "Sorry. Supercop, was it? I'd rather make headlines." He crushes her phone beneath his heel, and she laments how much it'll cost to replace it as he drags her and Théa to their feet.

But Karadec—swift, reliable Karadec—wasn't bluffing about the patrol cars. The four robbers turn in unison at the sound of sirens approaching.

"Alright, doctors." Their robber pushes her and Théa into the center of the room with the rest of the—oh gosh, they're officially hostages now. "We trained for this. You know what to do."

She stumbles to the ground, dizzied by everything that's just happened. Her thoughts sluggish amid the muffled tears and harsh breaths from her fellow hostages, the shouted orders backed up by guns, and the police lights and sirens muted by thick, frosted windows.

Théa reaches for her hand.

[rosecentaur1916]

This counts for fictional characters who are abused too, like Jonathan Levy.

Yes, I hated Jonathan for cheating on his new girlfriend/wife. Yes, I couldn't believe he became who he was trying to break from. Sadly this is a reality for many abused spouses/partners. I'm one of the lucky ones that had broken free of the trauma bond due to strong family ties. I know its possible for this not to happen, but there is *never* a clean break for victims.

Its usually you go back and forth and back and forth before you can actually leave. I even had to. I wanted to leave my ex husband January 2019. It was mid-month and I tried! I did it the wrong way. I didn't tell my ex I'd be leaving to get space and taking our kid with me. He could have pressed charges for kidnapping. I had to go back. Then every weekend we'd come to my Moms house for the next three to four weeks. The fourth week on my birthday we left. Yes, that would have been February 2019.

There were attempts at hoovering and other such manipulations to get me back. If I didn't have my sister teaching me how to avoid the hoovering I would have fallen for it and been back in his clutches. That's what happened to Jonathan. Mira hoovered and he came back. He didn't have a support system like I did to keep him from going back. He fell for it. Simple as that.

Everything he did was in effort to survive. That means that you stoop down to your abusers level and mirror back the gaslighting, emotional manipulation, condescension, reactionary abuse, word salad, name calling, attempts at control, screaming, shouting, cursing. Its called mutual abuse at that point, and no... neither person is innocent. Its a survival mechanism. Survival isn't pretty.

You only saw him live out the end of his abusive marriage, even men are abused. Its not just women and men in same sex relationships. Straight men or men in straight presenting relationships get abused too. Jonathan is one of them. Jonathan *is* the victim. He can't have a "victim mentality" if he is a victim. He is the victim. Mira used his innocence and a medical emergency to get what she wanted from him and then further manipulated him and abused him over the duration of a decade long marriage.

So, no. He's not problematic. He's not a bad guy. He's a good guy in a bad situation who handled it poorly due to having a poor support system. Its his unconditional love and excellent treatment of Ava that shows his true colors. We never see him be mean or rough with her. We never see him take out his stress on her. We see that he moves them both into his study because after Mira callously left her husband and daughter that she can't sleep by herself. Afraid that Daddy will leave too.

We see the first morning after Mira leaves, he's ticked, hes mad, he smashes his phone and bites his hand in effort to make sure Ava doesn't wake up. Then, when she does, he's instantly gentle with her. Adopting a soft voice, eyes, and posture. The affects of a good father who is *not* being watched.

Mira is the monster, not Jonathan. We barely see her with Ava. When we do its interactions in front of other people where she has to be good and nice. Covert manipulators, like Mira, are good that. My ex husband was. My ex was always good with our kid and I in front of other people. You'd think he was the best Dad and Husband on Earth! He wasn't. He was a lying, manipulative, abusive prick. So much so I have PTSD. I bet Jonathan has it too, if not C-PTSD from what we hear about his childhood from his writings about his father in episode 3.

[bcolfanfic]

Hi there! I’m imagining this prompt, maybe for Rosie and Aidan in Young Vets au? Because not gonna lie, Rosie seems like a disaster when they first start talking 😂😂

person a finding any stupid excuse to text to person b, but person b doesn't answer. person a is freaking out when, in reality, person b just doesn't know how to talk to person a

(Or literally any prompt that inspires you with Young Vets Clegan. On my knees begging for crumbs from this au because it has me in a chokehold)

ahh rosie and aiden my loves. you're right about no rizz rosie there LMAO. god love him. (for new folks - here's rosie's young veterans au headcanon list that kinda explains his backstory in this au. + what aiden looks like in my head, and rosie's phone pov)

/ / /

"Hey, your phone's gone off like three times in the last minute,"

Rosie looked up from where he was picking toys up off the ground. Ken, occupied with Naomi, slid his phone across with his foot- it going off a fourth time as he did.

For a moment he was worried about the string of texts he was getting, thumb shaking against his screen as he unlocked it.

Aiden

Had to go to Boston for work. Have you been here?

The next two messages were pictures, one of what looked like the intricate ceiling of some sort of city hall building, the second a mirror selfie in the reflection of a window.

I have to come back in a couple weeks. If you're free maybe you can come, lots of kid stuff for Naomi too.

Rosie swallowed, sucking in his bottom lip.

"Everything okay?"

Ken's voice pulled him out of his head and he snapped his gaze up, relocking his phone and shoving it into the front pocket of his sweatshirt.

"Yeah- just a bunch of robotexts."

---

He should've texted him back, that much he could acknowledge. Aiden didn't do anything wrong. It was sweet that he wanted him around- was still planning on wanting him around two weeks from now. But the longer he thought of what exactly he should say the more clueless he felt, ultimately deciding to let it simmer for a bit.

About an hour went by before Curt seemed to be getting a sudden string of texts himself, eyebrows furrowing when he looked at his phone. It looked like Ken was about to ask if something was wrong at the same time Rosie was, Curt looking back up before both of them could.

"When's the last time you talked to Aiden'?" He said, and Rosie's face felt hot.

"Uh," He stuttered, pushing a hand back through his hair. "I mean he texted earlier, about some- some work trip- didn't get back to it yet. Is something wrong?"

Curt stifled a laugh, exhaling with a head shake.

"Biddick, what."

Tossing his phone to where Rosie was standing, Curt crossed his arms. "Don't know what you did to the guy- never seen him like this over anyone."

Aiden

You and Ken were going over to Robby's house today right? Has he said anything about something I texted him?

Then there was a screenshot of their text thread, followed by two more messages.

Was mentioning that there's kid stuff too much?

If he says anything about it can you tell me so I can take it back or apologize or something? Thx.

Rosie looked at the screen and looked away, sucking in the right side of his flushed cheek.

It wasn't too much- well maybe it was but not in whatever way Aiden thought it might've been. One of the better parts of the past couple months of this had been how he came around to his daughter like it was no big deal. Like that's exactly what he'd been gunning for when he agreed to let Curt set him up with one of his Air Force buddies, even though Rosie was near 100% sure it wasn't.

He liked that Aiden thought of her when he thought of him. It made his chest warm that his idea of down time on a work trip was shepherding a toddler around a major city.

He could see it when he squeezed his eyes shut and liked what he saw. But now when the other shoe dropped like it always did it wouldn't just be his own sorry self getting hurt.

That, he struggled to stomach.

Rosie sat down hard next to Curt on the couch, dropping his head back to look at the ceiling as he passed him his phone back.

"You sit there for much longer without textin' him back I'm gonna call him." Curt said with a nudge to his side, giving him a satisfied hum as he fished his own cell out of his pocket.

Sorry I took so long to get back. Been a couple times but not since Naomi, think I should be free in a couple weeks (:

A reply came within a minute, before he could even exit out of the app.

Aiden

Great. Miss you guys!

He assumed Curt saw the way his eyes widened when he felt him leaning into his space to look at his screen. On instinct alone he went to shove his phone back away, the other man grabbing his wrist before he could.

"Nope." He said, pressing down the side button to unlock his screen. "3 words, and 'm gonna type 'em myself if you don't."

Huffing, Rosie shot a glare at his friend out of the corner of his eye as he reopened the text thread and started typing.

Miss you too.

[snickerdoodlles]

📓 :3

:D!

@mortimerlatrice got me thinking about a KimChay Chrestomanci AU, so more of that.

the Chrestomanci series, sidenote, is an absolutely delightful fantasy series by Diana Wynne Jones. it's composed of mostly independent stories set in a universe of 12 parallel universes (called Series), each with their own string of worlds (except Series 11). generally speaking, every person has eight identical copies borne into other series than their own, but very occasionally all nine lives will be borne into one person. this nine-life enchanter has all the power of nine magical people in them and is therefore the only person powerful enough to fill the role of Chrestomanci to regulate magical use and prevent any abuse of it across the 12 series.

which cool, very fun story premise actually, but not what I care about here. I'm setting kp in one of the series that doesn't deal much with magic because I don't care about magic meet mafia, I care about Chay having nine lives and all the ways that could make things worse.

(cw: non-permanent but slightly graphic character death under the cut. ft a dash of actual character death, but that only applies to Tawan.)

Chay doesn't have all his lives when canon starts. he lost his first one the same day he and Porsche lost their parents when he fell out of his crib trying to investigate the noise. he lost his second to food poisoning, before Porsche started working for extra food money and they had to make every scrap stretch. he lost another when a debt collector hit him too hard and snapped his neck. (Porsche wasn't home for that day. Chay told him he wasn't either.)

Chay loses his fourth life in the warehouse. it actually wasn't intentional on anyone's part -- Tawan's hired meat weren't careful enough bringing him in, and Chay's luck has his head hit a curb or scrap metal at just the right (or wrong, as it were) angle to kill him instead of concuss him, and head injuries take so long to come back from. Tawan drags out the charade because he wants Porsche desperate, not angry, and Porsche is in too deep of denial to accept the possibility of Chay actually being dead not to fall for it.

Kim arrives before Chay comes back to life. it's...bad. Porsche is screaming for him to get Chay out. Kim first checks Chay's breathing. failing to find that, he frantically (but carefully!) hauls Chay upright. that's when Chay's head flops limply to the side and reveals the dried blood down the back of his neck, which Kim had already felt grabbing but refused to process.

Kim sees red.

Tawan knifes Big. Porsche's shouts break through the fog threatening to overwhelm Kim. then Tawan gets one very distraught, very angry, very murderous Kim materializing in front of him and going right for his eyes. it doesn't matter that Tawan's the one with a weapon, he could've had an armory and that couldn't have helped him. Kim is very, very, very good at fighting, and he's on a mission to hurt. but he's also missing his control, and kicks Tawan in the kidney so hard Tawan stumbles back into a pile of scrap and, in true irony, jostles it hard enough the end of steel beam falls on his head. as discovered earlier, metal and concrete are not kind to heads, and bullet proof vests certainly can't protect from that.

it's too quick and too kind, and Kim stares at him disbelievingly, half a mind to drag Tawan out and beat out the little life he's surely still clinging to, when Chay groans. Kim first thinks he hallucinated it, but then he sees Chay move and he's so relieved he was wrong that he shoves everything else out of his mind and just gets Chay out. then everything and one trailing shouty Porsche slams back into him the minute Chay's out of his arms and with the paramedics that Kim bolts to go hide in a dark corner in his apartment and fail to process any of it.

Chay misses all of this btws. He was dead, then he was back with a headache, and he loves Porsche but he needs Porsche to please shut the fuck up and get him some tylenol.

then apartment confrontation, where Kim says I'm sorry and shoves off even quicker because all he can remember are those moments when he'd been so sure Chay was properly dead. club scene goes down even worse when Kim yells at Chay for making stupid reckless choices that could get him killed, and Chay demands to know why Kim even cares, and Kim goes pale with anger that Chay doesn't care that he (only nearly, surely) died, and it's all very terrible and ends in them storming away from each other.

then comes Yok's bar.

Chay dies. Kim had taunted them into a direct fight inside instead of picking them off outside, and it should have been fine, would have been fine, had Chay not had a bit more awareness and looked over to see Kim pinned between two guys and rushed to help only to get shot by one of the goons on the other end of the bar. he bleeds out while Kim kills off the rest.

Chay comes back to a bar full of bodies and Kim (clutching) cradling him. Kim isn't crying. he isn't really doing much of anything other than clinging and staring off into nothing with a thoroughly haunted expression.

Chay blinks and tentatively lays his fingers against Kim's cheek. "Kim?"

Kim's eyes snap to him, but still don't quite see him. he stays looking blank for a few seconds that feel like hours before saying matter-of-factly, "I've snapped."

"Kim!" Chay protests, distressed.

"It's okay," Kim says, still matter-of-fact but smiling tenderly, "better to be mad with you than without."

it takes a while to convince Kim he's not insane and that Chay's really back. Chay's not certain he fully manages it. but his death also shook loose a lot of confessions Kim normally couldn't say out loud. ("why--" Chay starts, voice cracking, "why did you say 'I'm sorry' that day?" / "You were supposed to be safe," Kim replies hoarsely, mad smile slipping for tears.) there's more clutching and clinging, this time by Chay too. both of them manage to forget they're in a bar of dead bodies until Porsche and Kinn come crashing through the door.

"Chay!" Porsche yells when he first sees him.

"Chay," Porsche pleads brokenly when he sees Chay's blood soaked shirt.

"Not mine!" Chay says quickly, and would've been given away by how fast Kim's head snaps around in any other circumstance. "See?" he says, raising his shirt to show unblemished skin, "No injury."

this does a lot to reassure Porsche, but Chay can tell Kim still thinks he's a little bit insane. Chay decides that's fine for now, because dying takes a lot out of you and apparently everyone around you too and it's unfair to expect Kim to just bounce back from him bleeding out on him, he'll work on it after a shower and dinner.

I'm not writing this AU because I only really have these two vague scenes in my head, but Chay having multiple lives making his existence in the mafia hurt more than canon's calls to me, it really does.

oh, also: in the AU source material, one of the nine-lifers has one of his lives removed and stored into a ring for safekeeping. he later gives this ring to his to-be-wife as her wedding ring. I'm not sure yet how to work that into this AU because Chay's contact with magic and other magicals would be slim to none in this, but please picture how this would absolutely wreck Kim, because there's nothing Kim wants more than to safeguard Chay but as far as he's concerned, he's already failed Chay in that regard twice. 😈

[[ ask me about fics im not writing ]]

[riversimmone]

No More Goodbyes

No More Goodbyes

RiverOfTheSand

Summary:

She watched them saying goodbye for the umpteenth time, wondering how dense Gaara had to be to not notice Sakura's feelings for him. The way Tsunade saw it, she had two choices: get drunk on sakē for the rest of the day, or force Sakura into confessing her undying love to the Kazekage... decisions, decisions. *post-war*

Notes:

Cross-posted from fanfiction.net. This one-shot has been an effort and a half. It has everything I love about GaaSaku; heart, soul, reasonable doubt, elucidation and that burning need that can drive a person crazy... well, me at least. ;) Rated T. Hope you all enjoy. :)

A light breeze grazed the top slip of paper on the small pile of documents in front of her, and she frowned at it. Like an invisible hand was lifting it, the movement reminded her of something she'd seen before. Her office was getting draughty again.

"Naruto," she murmured. "Go away."

The future Rokudaime scratched his head. "What are you going on about baa-chan? I'm supposed to be–"

"It's too early for me to care about that."

"Granny, aren't you forgetting something?"

Tsunade looked up at Naruto. He was staring at her intently, the slight tilt of his head indicating his confusion and she wondered what the hell he was talking about.

"Gaara's leaving again soon," the knucklehead stated matter-of-factly. "Aren't you going to see him off, as the Hokage?"

She smiled. "No Naruto, I passed that on six months ago."

"Huh?"

"Didn't you notice?"

"Uh... no."

Tsunade sighed. "I decided to leave that up to Sakura."

"Huh?" Naruto looked pained. "Are you sure that was wise granny? You know how she feels about him."

"Yes Naruto, it's caught my attention. But Sakura isn't going to be able to move past this if she doesn't do or say anything about it. It's been six months since the end of the Fourth Great Shinobi War, and neither of them have said anything about it. I'm not sure what's going through Gaara's head, but knowing Sakura, she won't be able to keep her feelings to herself for much longer."

"I don't know baa-chan; she went through a lot to to get over Sasuke. I'm not sure she has it in her to confess her feelings like that to anyone ever again."

He wanted to believe she would, but the broken young woman who was his best friend had clammed up emotionally, and Naruto was scared for her. He told her he understood, that he would support her no matter what she did, but he was getting tired of watching her sulk over Gaara. He wasn't entirely sure what the former jinchuriki would do if Sakura confessed her undying love for him, but he knew that guy at least cared for her–she was his best friend after all. Even if he didn't like her the way she wanted him to, she needed to get this off her chest.

"We'll see Naruto, now get out of here–I still have paperwork to finalise."

"Yeah, yeah: I'll be back later, whether you like it or not."

The Hokage just scoffed, and swivelled in her chair to look out the window as Naruto left.

She stared out over Konoha, her eyes resting on the figure of her fellow Kage as he very slowly made his way toward the main gates–two ANBU trailing behind him. Sometimes, Temari or Kankuro would accompany him on one of his trips, but even they got tired of the back and forth. Tsunade often wondered about Gaara's excuses for coming here, and hoped he really did like Sakura–as much as she would miss her kouhai, she wanted her to be happy more than anything else in the world. She deserved someone who loved her as much as she loved him, no matter what village he came from.

She continued to watch Gaara, her fingers itching to just guzzle the unopened sakē hidden under the top drawer of her desk in one go. If he wasn't a Kage, she'd kick his arse for causing her adopted daughter such grief. So now she had a decision to make, and the sweet scent of the untouched elixir mere inches from her hand was telling her to make it hurt.

– No More Goodbyes –

"Step forward prisoner 727853-824442."

Sakura Haruno sighed inwardly. 'Not him again.'

Kotetsu Hagane glanced at Sakura before giving his full attention to process the prisoner. The dishevelled man wouldn't look at her, as usual, only responding to his guard enough to avoid receiving a jolt from a Raiton jutsu–all at the guard's whim. Sakura didn't want to be here anymore than this guy wanted her to; he always acted like she came here just to lord it over him that he'd lost and they'd kicked his arse in the end. But really, she'd let go of the notion that she had anything to gloat about.

It was overdue for him to do the same.

But he never would, she knew he never would.

Sakura sighed inwardly, preferring not to show him how much he still affected her. That chapter of her life was over now.

"You're hurt."

Sakura looked up, realising she'd been staring absentmindedly at the clipboard in her hands–it held the medical information for the man in front of her. She was at the prison only as a precaution, since there had been a few viral outbreaks recently–nothing catastrophic, but when acting in conjunction with prisoners who spent most of the day labouring in the hot sun and potentially cutting themselves with sharp instruments, it increased the risk of infections. And from the look of most of them, they needed all the hygiene they could get their grubby hands on.

The owner of the voice interrupting her thoughts was Izumo Kamizuki–the other guard standing to Sakura's left. His dark eyes were examining the prisoner closely, and narrowed at the sight of a gash on his arm. Said prisoner did nothing other than clench his fist imperceptibly before glancing toward the door that would elicit his freedom from his guards and medic. He didn't want their help, which wasn't surprising, but they were responsible for him all the same.

Reluctantly, Sakura tucked the chart under her arm and stepped toward the prisoner. He made no move to pull away from her and she healed his wound without physically touching him, but as usual, she was trembling inside... even after everything, he still scared her. She probably should've done that without moving from her spot–to save herself some heart palpitations–but that idea always came to her too late, also accompanied by an image of Kabuto doing something similar a long time ago, when Naruto's Kyuubi chakra had hurt her.

She hated herself for how much she still dwelled on those days.

Without a word, she returned to her position and averted her eyes from the prisoner once again... gazing unseeingly at the chart instead.

Kotetsu gave the prisoner another look over–this one a little more thorough, to make sure there were no more wounds. The man did have a habit of pretending he was alright, and had spent time isolated from the other prisoners for his stupidity–not that that seemed to have taught him anything–to ensure his infections weren't contagious.

Idiot.

Sakura watched him as he reacted to the invasion of his personal space, as stiff as ever, lamenting on how things had turned out, as she always did. If she had her way, she'd wipe her name from the list of "volunteers" and never have to come to the Konoha prison ever again. Unfortunately, Lady Tsunade had decided that all medics were obligated to sign up for this complete and utter waste of time. If these weren't war prisoners, and each and every one of them guilty of heinous crimes, it could be mistaken for charity. Sakura did not want to waste time on these people, when she could be in the hospital, helping sickly children or whatnot.

'Who am I kidding?' She thought grumpily. 'There aren't enough patients to go around over there.'

Ironically, the number of healers outweighed the need for them these days. If it wasn't for Tsunade's new missive, Sakura might very well not be able to pay her rent this week.

"Lady Sakura."

The voice to her right startled her–an ANBU carrying a message scroll... unusual here at the prison. Surely whatever it was could wait.

"Thank-you," she said softly, and the man disappeared in a cloud of smoke. She thought she recognised the chakra, but gave it no mind. Sakura opened the scroll as her companions now went through the items the angsty prisoner had brought with him–it was a weekly, routine thing, to make sure there was nothing missing. It had something to do with security, but she didn't care.

Sakura's eyes widened as she read the scroll, her stomach churning suddenly, and painfully.

'No...'

But really, she shouldn't be surprised. Again and again, she took this news to heart; Sakura ignored the suddenly curious stare of the prisoner as she struggled not to break down. The message scroll went unread by the rest of the room, so she could only imagine they worried what it said to make her pale on command. She hated herself for this, and the fact that this news hit her so hard every time. She cleared her throat, rolled the scroll back up and looked up at the curious guards, forcing a smile past her lips.

"Later," she said, grateful that her voice was firm and detached.

She didn't wait for a response, instead ambling on her way out of the prison. This wasn't the place she'd rather be of course, and since life in Konoha was so ridiculously peaceful now, even normal missions were spread a bit more thinly. She supposed she should be grateful–the fifth Hokage and her imminent successor were cleaning up the mess that was the Fourth Shinobi War so efficiently that mission casualties were non-existent right now–it was just a strange feeling, not to be needed.

Naruto had however, told her that peace was merely a step between the problems, and they must be ever vigilant to prevent the next great war, no matter how easy things seemed to be right now. He was starting to sound like Lee.

"Shit." Sakura groaned, hastening her pace now, as she realised she'd been lost in delirium for a few minutes, and according to the message scroll, it was happening now. "I'm going to be late."

She had one thing to look forward to these days, above all others–the monthly visits from the Kazekage. Gaara came to Konoha under the guise of friendship with Naruto (or whatever political things they were preparing for, since it wouldn't be long now, before the blonde took the title of the Rokudaime Hokage), and Sakura took advantage of each and every single one. She loved him, she knew it, and even Naruto had seen it as her feelings blossomed during the war. Sakura felt so desperately drawn to Gaara that she wasn't surprised when he turned out to be just like Sasuke–he didn't like her that way anymore than the Uchiha did.

She was sure Gaara only saw her as a friend.

So Sakura spent the war hiding her feelings. The only people who knew were Naruto, her shishou and Ino. But once the fighting was over, she could've killed herself with the fear and despair when he went back to his village as though there was nothing between them. She remembered the day that had made her realise that he had no interest in her as anything other than an acquaintance because she happened to be Naruto's best friend.

...Flashback...

"You going to find a nice guy and settle down Sakura?"

The older sister of the Kazekage had called her over to the apartment she was sharing with her brothers, and Sakura was beginning to suspect it was because she was  dying  to tell someone that Shikamaru had finally made their relationship official–they just needed to go public.

"Yeah," the pinkette said wistfully, forcing herself not to look at Gaara as he and Kankuro sat three feet away, playing shōgi. Kankuro had challenged Shikamaru to that game numerous times over the course of the war, determined to beat him (and failing each and every time), and was now using Gaara as a guinea pig to see where he was going wrong. Unfortunately, for the puppet master, he'd chosen an opponent who was more than capable of kicking his arse.

Meanwhile, Temari was nervously wiping her iron fan, even though it clearly didn't need cleaning. Sakura sipped her tea thoughtfully, knowing the blonde wanted a much more detailed answer from her before she spilled her own beans on the subject.

She swallowed heavily. "I don't know who it'll be with but... I will, I suppose."

"You suppose?"

"It's the accepted norm," Kankuro said wisely, his eyes glued to the shōgi board. "Everyone expects that getting married and raising some hell raisers is what everyone should be doing."

"That's for civilians," Gaara countered, also keeping his eyes on the game. "Shinobi are different."

"How so, little bro?"

"Despite the fact that we live longer naturally, through our consistent use of chakra, we actually die sooner for the most part, due to missions, wars, or whatever. Such things are deterrents to people who do not wish to burden a spouse or marital partner with the knowledge that the next mission might be their last."

"And the clans," Kankuro said. "What about them?"

Gaara reached out almost tentatively, pushing one of his pieces along the board, earning a grunt from his older brother. "Their leaders are obligated to keep their kekkei genkai, or the jutsu their clan is known for, alive through arranged marriages, and in the case of the bloodline limits, in the family. The clan members have little to no choice but to choose a suitable mate to keep the traditions going–it has nothing to do with societal views or life expectancy."

"Well I'm getting married," Kankuro said cheerfully, his eyes lifting from the shōgi board. "There are lots of girls out there, just ripe for the picking."

"I definitely won't be," Gaara murmured softly.

Hands clasping her tea cup tightly, Sakura stiffened unperceptively. She knew that Suna didn't have the marriage policy for their Kazekage in place anymore–really, it wasn't like they were a monarch, and therefore producing offspring was his civic duty–but it was surprising to hear Gaara say he had no plans to settle down. Her heart plummeted at these words, realising once and for all that she had no chance with him, but at the same time, the fact that he had no-one else in mind was a small comfort... ridiculously so.

Still, Sakura fought back the disappointment in her voice as she replied to his comment. "You don't know you never will."

"Waste of time," Gaara grunted softly, now ignoring her. Kankuro gave his brother a Cheshire grin, and took his turn... and lost the smirk when Gaara immediately retaliated. "Check-mate," the redhead said calmly, and stood immediately. He headed toward the bathroom as Kankuro gaped distastefully at the shōgi board.

"Well, it's been fun," Sakura lied, placing her tea cup down and standing up. "But I have some work to do. Congratulations on the relationship with Shikamaru, Temari. Bye."

Sakura was half-way out the door when Kankuro's booming voice cried out: "WHAT RELATIONSHIP?"

Sakura left quickly, flash-stepping toward her apartment the moment her sandals hit the roof of the hotel. She wasn't paying attention to what she was doing, just getting inside the seals as she normally did–habitual movements and muscle memory. Her mind was blank as she kicked off her shoes, stripped off her weapons (it was standard procedure to carry weapons, being a ninja), and headed straight for her bathroom.

She wasn't thinking clearly, that was it; Sakura forewent undressing and just stepped into her shower. The water was scalding hot, but she didn't care. She didn't register the tears, the sobs, or the grating sound of her fingernails scraping at the shower tiles. All she could feel was cold despite the scalding water, fear despite being in the comfort of her own home, and gut wrenching pain...

Half an hour later, Sakura wrung out her wet shirt absentmindedly, her hands still shaking. How the hell could she have let this happen to her, again? First she spent an inordinate amount of time daydreaming over Sasuke, who then became a missing-nin and tried to kill her, now she was pining after Gaara... and who knew what was going on in that head of his? She was a sucker for unrequited love, and she was sick to  death  of it.

...End Flashback...

That had been mere days after the end of the war, and less than two weeks later, Gaara had begun his monthly trips to Konoha. Her shishou had placed her on the roster to escort the Kazekage through the village, and she secretly hated her for it. Still, Gaara became more pleasant to speak with, and he never raised the issue with her that had upset her in the first place–not that he knew it had–and she started to look forward to his visits, instead of dreading being in the presence of someone who would never return her feelings. She'd just decided to take what she could get.

After all, if he had no intention of settling down, she had no-one to be jealous over...

Sakura stopped suddenly, realising she'd arrived at the main gates without noticing. Shading her eyes from the sun, she looked up and around–Gaara wasn't here yet, so she wasn't late after all. The guards on duty... their names escaped her right now ...waved to her and she returned the gesture out of habit more than anything, and etiquette.

She was stronger than the stupid girl who'd sobbed and begged Sasuke not to abandon the village, and vowed she'd cried over Gaara for the last time. But unlike with Sasuke, Gaara didn't know about her feelings, so she only had herself to blame for the lack of resolution for said feelings. She supposed, today was as good as any. It would be more humiliating to tell Gaara she was in love with him immediately before having to spend several days seeing to his needs when he wasn't in meetings with leaf officials–it wasn't like she trailed around after him.

And, despite her desire to spend more time with him, Sakura didn't want to do this again. She'd stood at the gates to Konoha, like the good little dignitary she was, and seen Gaara off every time his visit came to its inevitable end. She would smile, he was polite, and yet neither of them seemed to want to make eye contact. She had to say goodbye, and Sakura wasn't sure she had it in her to do this all over again.

No, there would be no more goodbyes after this.

– No More Goodbyes –

The cold always left him in pain. He supposed he was just used to the heat of Suna, but even the warmth of Konoha left him wanting. A cool breeze, much like the hint of winter, swept through his hotel room as Gaara absentmindedly packed. He felt lonely even when surrounded, so trips to the leaf with only ANBU as company were that and boring. He only came here to see Sakura, after all, and she didn't even know it.

Temari was the only person who knew about his infatuation. He had worked alongside her in the war, as she'd been assigned as his personal medic a few times, but it was her temper and his own stubbornness during those times that stood out the most.

Gaara sighed.

He was thinking about her a lot lately, and it was driving him insane. He had no idea how to go about changing the nature of their relationship, especially considering the only time they'd both been part of the same conversation involving romantic futures he'd ridiculed the idea of wanting someone by his side. He hadn't understood at the time, just how good it could feel, to want someone, or be wanted, outside the friend context.

But did he really get it, now? When he stopped to think about what it was he wanted from the feisty pinkette, all that came to mind was her time and attention. Sexuality and romantic situations only occurred to him after talking to others. Kankuro asked him when he was going to go ahead and finally get laid. Temari asked him when he was going to go ahead and finally ask Sakura out–or confess his love, whatever. He never answered them.

"Are you ready, Lord Kazekage?"

Gaara nodded to his ANBU guard and allowed the man to carry his bag for him. Like he needed him to. This was something he didn't think he'd ever get used to. He looked up at the Hokage Tower before turning his attention toward the main gates. Lost in his thoughts, Gaara relied on muscle memory and habit to steer him where he needed to go.

The Godaime Hokage had not allowed him to see Sakura so much this visit, so Gaara had sulked in his room a lot–though he would never let anyone, even his siblings, to see him pout over a girl. Sakura had given him his diplomatically demanded medical check-up every other time he'd come to Konoha, but this time, Tsunade was adamant about him keeping his distance. What the hell was going on? That mouse of a woman, Shizune… something, was the one who had seen to him this time, not that he'd really needed medical attention. Being a Kage meant that he should. It was both standard procedure and good politics.

But the question of what was going on was buzzing around in Gaara's head.

It wasn't like the Hokage owed him an explanation–the treaty between their nations didn't stipulate that a specific doctor had to see to him every time. And Gaara did feel a little foolish having looked forward to his physical exams when the pinkette was doing them. That other woman had cold hands.

Gaara shivered involuntarily at that thought, looking up as he realised he was close enough to the gates to see that Sakura was already waiting for him. Seeing her always brought back memories of the times he was too stupid to realise his interest in her was more than professional.

...Flashback...

It had started with him saving her life, escalated into an argument–about all the reasons why she hadn't needed saving and he was  not  stronger than her–and ended with him wishing he'd just left her to the mercy of those Zetsu clones. It wasn't like he was expecting a confession of undying love, let alone a ridiculously corny Valentine's card, but would it  kill  her to say "thank-you" in return for him not letting her get skewered?

Apparently, it would've.

That was when he finally understood what Shikamaru had been going on about for years, and why Naruto was waiting to start dating Hinata until the war was over–women were nothing but a nuisance.

But as the  Regimental Leader of the Allied Shinobi Forces, he had to at least appear like he cared if she had broken her nail beating the crap out of Naruto. Not that she verbally complained, but he caught her staring forlornly at her cuticles a number of times, as though her disappointment would magically grow them back.  And they fought over everything, argued every day, and barely spoke unless doing either–his medical check-ups notwithstanding.

The allied forces even had a bet going on who would snap and kill the other first.

It was toward the end of the war, one specific day, that had turned them around. Gaara fought and sealed his resurrected father. Sakura caught him crying in his tent. He'd sobbed on the battlefield, which was bad enough, but the quite tears were the ones that ended up on display. But instead of making some snappy retort (like he'd feared she would, though Naruto had insisted to him later that Sakura would never do such a thing, no matter how much she hated him), she'd knelt down beside him. Gaara could still remember the feeling of her breast against his cheek as she held him.

Just being there, being his friend, she'd affected him more than she would ever know. More than  he  would know either–until the war was over, he was finally back in Suna, and he quickly discovered that he actually  missed  that insufferable Kunoichi.

...End Flashback...

And so began his visits to see her, making up excuse after excuse so that even Kankuro was suspicious of his reasons. But this back and forth was tormenting him. He needed to decide on what to do about this attachment he'd developed and clear things up once and for all.

– No More Goodbyes –

"Hey, Gaara."

Gaara nodded to Sakura, as he always did, and motioned to his ANBU guards–they disappeared from sight, now waiting for him along the path out of Konoha. Sakura looked startled at this, but quickly covered it with a smile.

"I suppose this is goodbye again," she said, fiddling with her thumbs nervously.

He smiled genially at this, not sure what it was she wanted him to say. But he spoke with conviction, remembering every visit he'd ever made to Konoha, in an attempt to let her know how he felt, had ended the same way. "We always seem to be saying goodbye, don't we?"

She nodded. "Uh... Gaara?"

"Yes?"

Sakura swallowed back the bile threatening to sear her throat and clenched her fists. 'Get a grip, Sakura!'

She really needed to do this before she lost her nerve. "I've been thinking... um..." She shifted uncomfortably. "I wanted to tell you... I love you." Her eyes fell to the ground.

Great... she'd evolved her love confessions from becoming a sobbing mess to pretending her shoes were more interesting than the object of said confession. Sakura forced herself, rather painfully, to look up at Gaara. The shock was obvious... was that a good or bad thing? At least he didn't look disgusted.

"I've loved you for a long time," she heard herself saying–rambling; she couldn't stop herself. "And I completely understand if you don't feel the same way–who would, right?–it's just I can't do this anymore, the whole escorting you thing. I can't be around you anymore, not like this. So it's best if–"

She ignored the sudden intake of breath from the nearby, tactless guards as Gaara interrupted her rambling to kiss her. His lips were warm, slightly parted, and enticing as she immediately and unconsciously leant into him, returning the kiss. Gaara's hands were unobtrusive as they slid up her sides; his right hand slipped down behind her, falling to the small of her back, while his left hand ran through her hair, pulling her more tightly to him.

Sakura parted her lips, letting him in and just enjoying being held by the Kazekage as he took control. It was the most amazing feeling–she'd never kissed anyone before! Her heart was racing, but not painfully so, and the feel of his body pressed against hers only added to the tingling sensation ripping through her as she lost herself to the delirium.

She was breathless when Gaara finally pulled away, barely able to stand on her own two feet. There were no words to describe that... he'd literally stolen her breath away, and she had nothing left to use. She tried, but couldn't speak.

So Sakura just lowered her head to his chest, holding tightly to the front of his Kazekage robes. Gaara chuckled, the light reverberation no more than a purr in his chest as she inhaled his scent. Sakura looked up at him, her eyes locking with his, losing their fear as he smiled back at her.

"Promise me," she said breathily. "You won't leave me again."

"No more goodbyes," he promised.

– No More Goodbyes –

High above and on the other side of the village, she watched them saying goodbye for the umpteenth time, wondering how dense Gaara had to be to not notice Sakura's feelings for him. The way Tsunade saw it, she had two choices: get drunk on sakē for the rest of the day, or force Sakura into confessing her undying love to the Kazekage... decisions, decisions.

Hm...

Like always, she could see everything from her open window, spying on her fellow ninja, just like countless Hokage before her (though each had their own methods). She'd attempted to change the dynamic of their encounters this time around, by keeping Gaara from Sakura's side, since it was human nature to be lulled into a comfortable routine, rather than work up the nerve to break that monotony. So far, she'd seen a grumpier Gaara, more depressed Sakura, startled Naruto, and an increase in her own consumption of sakē. This gave her the hope that the Kazekage was missing the pinkette's company, and would respond more favourably to a confession from the young woman.

Hopefully.

Finally making her decision, Tsunade grabbed the sakē bottle from under her desk, keeping her eyes on the distant forms of the two lovebirds as they embraced. And then she smiled slightly before turning away from the sight. "Sakē it is."

–XXX–

[chaikachi]

since you're caught up on the Locked Tomb, I thought I'd send some asks your way because I'm kind of curious:

1) I've gathered Cam and Pal are your favorite characters, but do you any particular favourite moments/quotes of them? Or just why you love them as characters in general?

2) any plot twists you didn't see coming but liked?

3) any dark horse characters that grew on you over the series or that you'd want to see more of?

EEEE I SURE DID!! Okay, warning for anyone that is not caught up with it or plans to read it, that there are going to be spoilers below. You have been warned!!

Yes, they are my favourites.😔 Friends specifically told me to read the books because they are "very much my flavour" and they were right. Which is very rude of them, tbqh :/// As for the why, it's a lot of things, I think. From a character design perspective, I've always been a sucker for scholarly types like Pal, and you can never go wrong with short hair and double swords like Cam. I like that they have a decent amount of contrast and are quite different from each other in some ways while also being soooo alike in others. From a thematic perspective, all the bits and parallels around devotion, identity, and responsibility. How just by knowing someone, we add 'indelibly to their weight'. How this is explored both as a positive and negative thing. How just by knowing someone else - dare I say, to tame or be tamed by another 👀- can change us irreversibly. How burdening those we care about is something we have to come to terms with, and that being burdened can in and of itself be an act of care. How these themes are exacerbated and mixed with plurality and merging. The ever important question of 'where do you end and i begin'? For moments and quotes, a lot of my favourite things about them are just how they interact with one another (or with other characters). The sort of relationship where words often aren't necessary. How so much of their connection is conveyed in actions. "Tell Cam... never mind, she knows what to do." and the "what to do" is her collecting the fragments of his skull off the floor?? that she glues back together with her own hands?? then travelled millions or billions of light years to meet with the one person that can pull his soul back into it??? Her carrying him, despite the risk and harm it poses to herself, because he doesn't have a vessel anymore??? Pal asking Nona to "give this to Cam" and it's a kiss to the back of her hand???? Sick!! Twisted!! I demand financial compensation for damages!!!! Cam had every right to go sit in the bathtub about that!!! What the hell man!!! But I would be remiss not to mention the conversations they have across the voice recorder when they can't speak face to face, the co-fronting/synergy thing that happens when the protect Nona at the beach, and of course: "Life is too short and love is too long."

I'll admit I was spoiled a bit to some things going in so that skews this answer a bit. There were certainly some things I predicted incorrectly but then was like "OF COURSE THAT'S HOW IT HAPPENED, HOW COULD I HAVE ASSUMED DIFFERENTLY". I was not expecting that many people to die in the first book tbh. What happened to the Fourth and Fifth houses hit particularly hard. Was not expecting Gideon to find a decapitated head in Harrow's closet. I think the most surprises I had were in the second book though. Kept asking myself what the heck was going on. The narrator reveal was such an unexpected and pleasant surprise. Like, I kind of figured that was the case but I wasn't expecting that to be how we found out. Camilla showing up somehow out of nowhere?? The full extent of Harrow and Gideon's origins had me at a loss for words. Also the epilogue leading into Nona had me soooooo confused.

Yes. I absolutely adored Augustine. Big fan of his whole vibe; i miss him. Also really liked Magnus, Abigail, and Ortus in the second book. Especially them stepping up and being the Responsible Adults™ Harrow never really had, but always deserved. Also Polyamory Win with both whatever Pyrrha and Dulcie had respectively going on with Cam and Pal aha. Very big fan of Dulcinea in general. From her appearance in htn to popping up in The Unwanted Guest. I don't know how we could see more of her, but I would not be complaining if we did. Muir is really good at characterization tho, i don't know that there have really been any characters I've actively disliked. 🤔

Thank you for asking! I'd love to know some of your fave characters/plot twists too if you feel like sharing!! no pressure tho uwu

[markofcastiel]

The Plan

Relationship: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Summary: Cas has been his best friend since they were eight. But now they're both applying for universities and Dean is more anxious than he wants to admit.

Tags: fluff, first kiss, self-esteem issues

"If you get accepted to all of them, which one are you gonna pick?"

"I dunno, Sammy!" Dean snaps, closing the book in front of him with more force than necessary. The pencil that Dean had been anxiously chewing on just seconds ago rolls off the desk with the vibration, and lands on the hardwood floors with a clack.

"I'm so sick of everyone pressuring me for answers!"

"Dude... it was just a question..."

His baby brother is getting bigger and bigger. He's nearly Dean's size now and shows no signs of stopping his growth spurt. But in moments like these Sammy can still pull off a face that reminds Dean that he's just a gangly 14 year old kid - with huge puppy eyes and a sad retriever look. Dean would calm down and apologize for snapping if he wasn't so riled up:

"Not when you're the third person asking me that today. Just lay off my back already!"

Sam raises his brows high, and his lips quirk in the way they do when he's preparing a comeback.

"Touchy~~"

"Bitch."

"Moooooom, Dean called me a bitch..."

"You-"

Mary's voice reaches in from the hallway almost instantly: "Dean, language!!"

Sam sticks his tongue out, grins triumphantly, and then whispers "jerk" before running back to his room.

Freaking Sammy...

"At the risk of being the fourth to ask..."

His best friend speaks up from behind him, letting the sentence linger in the air unfinished. Dean turns around in his chair to see Cas sprawled across his bed, calmly observing him. He has a book open in front of him, but it's upside down so Dean's pretty sure he wasn't really studying.

"I do wonder the same, Dean."

"Not you too, man."

"I'm just curious."

"Look... I don't know, Cas."

Dean sighs, and finally decides to give up on studying, since his mind is too far gone.

His room is not so big, so when he stretches his leg, it actually reaches the bed. He uses this fact to his advantage, one foot pushing insistently at Castiel's thigh in a silent demand for him to move. It works, effectively making his best friend sit up and scooch over enough so that Dean can also sit down on the cushy mattress.

Even though there was more than enough space to leave a few inches between them, they end up squished right against each other. But Cas doesn't complain, so Dean lets his head drop onto his best friend's shoulder, and closes his eyes for a brief moment, trying to chase away the worry bubbling inside. His brain keeps racing around, thinking about the future and how everything seems so scary and uncertain. He still feels like a kid but he has to make all these grown up decisions and move away from everyone he loves.

It doesn't really seem fair.

"Can't I just stay here forever?"

Although Cas doesn't answer, he reaches out, sensing Dean's distress. His hand finds Dean's nape, and starts stroking tenderly along Dean's spine, soothing all the muscles down its path. Dean just leans into the touch and sighs again, now a happier sound.

Cas has a way of always feeling like sunshine, peeking through even on the cloudiest days. Dean basks in the attention, and lets go of the worries for a moment, just focusing on the warmth of Castiel's hand, and the way Cas' breath ghosts against his hair. He thinks he feels Castiel kissing the top of his head, a feathery touch, barely there - but maybe he was just imagining it. After a few moments of silence, Dean finally allows himself to ask:

"What 'bout you, Cas? You never told me which university you decided on."

The soothing hand leaves Dean's back and he instantly misses the contact. Cas stares at him silently, and it's only when Dean rights himself up and looks back, raising a brow in question that Cas replies, with a mysterious finality to his tone.

"I don't know yet."

"What? Really? You don't know?"

Cas simply shrugs. He's suddenly very interested in the book in front of him - it seems he finally notices that it is upside down and his hands fumble to turn it around.

"Oh..." Dean is surprised, to say the least.

His best friend is always so sure of himself, so certain of the path that has to be taken to succeed in life. When they started highschool Cas had already picked all his classes before Dean could even decide on one. So Dean wasn't expecting an 'I don't know'. If anything, Dean was expecting a bullet list of next steps and timelines to achieve his life goals or something geeky like that.

"Ok," Dean mumbles out, slightly dazed, before turning even more interested. He can't believe he never asked:

"Huh... which universities did you apply to?"

Blue eyes snap back up, meeting his.

There's a weird sort of tension in the air until Cas finally answers.

"MIT, Caltech and KU."

"What?! Are you serious?"

Dean turns to face Cas fully, the ecstasy obvious in his eyes. He grabs Castiel's knees and squeezes.

"Those are exactly the same ones I applied to! Dudeeee, that's such a coincidence - it would be awesome if we ended up in the same one!"

Dean rambles excitedly, not noticing the calculated gaze on his best friend's eyes.

"This is the best news I've heard all year, Cas - I freaking LOVE you!"

He throws his arm around Cas, squishing him tight and kissing his cheek like crazy, forgetting that wasn't a normal thing best friends do.

"And with your big brain I'm sure you are gonna get into all of them, Cas!"

Cas huffs out a small laugh, his eyes crinkling softly at Dean's excitement. But his smile fades away when Dean's face darkens. He slowly releases his grip on Cas, and Cas knows what's coming before Dean even starts.

"Me, on the other hand... I mean... what if I don't get into any of them?"

"Dean."

Cas sounds tired beyond his years, as if he hasn't just turned 18, but instead has lived centuries watching the Earth turn on its axis.

"Dean, look at me."

Dean complies, though he's not sure why. Emboldened, Cas barrels on, confident and unwavering:

"You're one of the brightest people I have ever known."

"No, I'm not," Dean scoffs.

Cas squints, and his head tilts.

"You do realize that your GPA disagrees?"

"You're one to talk, Cas... you have 5.0 GPA! And I'm pretty sure the only reason you don't have higher is because you were afraid the teachers thought it was too good to be true."

"I like Advanced Placement classes..."

"Yeah, well. You're basically a superhuman genius or something."

"Hmm... in that case perhaps you should listen to me when I say you'll get into all of the universities you applied to."

Dean rolls his eyes, but Cas persists:

"My GPA is not the point, Dean. I'm not the one who secretly thinks I'm dumb, despite being elected Valedictorian and having the second highest GPA in our entire school, and likely one of the highest in the country for our year."

"I was only chosen as Valedictorian cus everyone knows you suck at speeches, Cas! You'd probably just get up there and give a one-liner about how 'we're all people trying their best in a world where it's easy to do your worst' and then end with a weird goat joke that no one gets."

"That was my speech in middle school."

"Exactly!"

"The joke just didn't translate well. It was funnier in the original language."

Dean roars with laughter, and then slaps Cas in the back.

"And that is why I am Valedictorian, buddy."

Cas looks slightly uncomfortable, but it just makes Dean laugh harder. He's clearly imagining a myriad of terrible speeches that some imaginary Castiel would do. When he finally comes down from his high, he wipes the corner of his eyes, and shakes his head.

"Man... I'm gonna miss you too much if we don't end up in the same uni..."

Cas awkwardly looks away.

"Why didn't you pick one yet anyway? Knowing you, I thought you already had a whole grand plan in mind," Dean pries, curious. Cas remains quiet, staring a hole into a spot on the wall. Dean can tell when his best friend is holding something back. Dean bumps his knee against him, and insists.

"What is it, Cas?"

Cas chances a look, and quickly caves in as soon as he sees the bright green eyes staring up at him.

"I'm waiting."

"Really? What for?"

Cas looks away again, cheeks slightly tinged in pink. If Dean didn't know him so well, he would say Cas was embarrassed. But Cas was never embarrassed, so he must be imagining it. When Cas seems to stall, Dean pushes again.

"What are you waiting for, buddy?"

"You didn't pick yet."

"Ok..."

Dean scrunches his nose.

"What does that have to do with it?"

Cas looks back at him, annoyed.

"What?"

"You didn't pick yet," Cas repeats slowly, as if somehow that explains everything. Dean just makes another face, even more confused.

"So what? It's not like you're planning to follow me into whatever university I-"

Cas looks at him meaningfully.

Wait. What?

Dean can feel himself turn red and redder, all the way up to his ears. No. No way. Was Cas really waiting for him to choose just so he could go to the same one???

"Yes, so..." Cas confirms his unspoken question, closing the book in front of him, "please hurry up, Dean. Your indecision is interfering with my plan."

"Your... plan?"

And that's when Cas pulls out a bullet list of his life goals - Dean was right, he does have one - and hands it over.

"I was supposed to be at step number 7 already, which is getting an apartment for us near the campus. But if you don't pick a university I can't start on that one."

"Cas."

"Yes?"

"Did you seriously put 'Marry Dean Winchester' as bullet point number 20?"

"Well, 18 is too early, and 22 seems too late. I think bullet point 20 is the perfect balance."

"Cas..."

"Yes?"

"We're not even dating yet."

"Of course not," Cas says with some exasperation, pointing at number 10 on the list, "that's only after step 8 and 9, Dean, since we will be much more emotionally mature."

Dean smiles, a silly, huge grin and shakes his head. Well, he was never one to follow grand plans and by led by other people's rules so he cradles Cas' face between his palms, leans in and kisses that stupid look off of his best friend's face.

Cas squirms under him, a delightful surprised hitch leaving his mouth, but ends up clinging to his leather jacket like there's no tomorrow. When Dean finally pulls away he marvels at his best friend's spit-slick lips, and the way that dark hair got all ruffled up, making Cas impossibly sexier.

"So," Dean chirps cheerfully, the future suddenly seeming much more exciting.

"Which university are we going to?"

Cas doesn't answer, just pulls him back in for another kiss, and then another. They only stop to come up for air, and even then they're both smiling wide, breaths ragged and hearts beating fast.

"What about th-"

Oh god,

Cas started kissing up his jaw, and somehow Dean's jacket found its way the floor.

"-C-Cas, w-wha- t-the plan?"

"Mmm," Cas mumbles between kisses, and then his tongue darts out to lick a line behind Dean's ear, making Dean shiver and fall apart with a whimper.

"Changed my mind."

"Hell yea-"

"Boys."

The voice suddenly startles them both apart, and they turn at the speed of light to find Mary Winchester at the entrance of Dean's bedroom, staring past the -very open- door. Dean can't believe he was this freaking stupid, and he can feel his heart hammer anxiously in his chest.

"Mom, it's - it's not what it looks like-"

Mary rolls her eyes.

"Oh really? 'Cus it looks like you knuckleheads finally realized you're made for each other. I could power a town with the stares you two have been throwing at each other for the last ten years."

"M-mom," Dean mumbles.

"Now, hands off each other and come help me with dinner. I think I burned the rice again..."

---

"MIT."

Dean blurs out right in the middle of dinner. All the eyes lift off of busy plates full of food, staring up at him, waiting for more explanation. Dean squeezes Cas' hand a bit tighter below the table before clearing his throat and trying again:

"We decided on MIT."

His family cheers, rushing to congratulate him. Sammy however, asks all too eagerly:

"We? Are you both going to the same one?"

Dean blushes, suddenly nervous, "y-yeah."

John groans, making Dean practically jump out of his skin, heart hammering on his chest. But then his little brother's voice raises over the sound:

"Called it," Sammy announces, and shoves an open palm in front of their father, "pay up old man!"

John reluctantly pulls out 50 dollars, just as Mary smacks both of them on the back of their heads, clearly displeased with whatever just transpired.

Dean stares at his father like he just grew an extra head but John just slowly chews at his food, and doesn't provide any additional explanation.

"I'm happy to hear that, baby," Mary says gently, looking genuinely pleased. She proceeds to elbow John, and the man finally seems to realize he should say something.

"Yeah. Good for you, son. You take good care of each other, you hear? Keep your noses outta trouble."

Dean blushes and nods furiously, the words of his father always his gospel.

Cas, in the meantime, is far too focused on scribbling all over his (now slightly crumpled) piece of paper. It seems 'Marry Dean Winchester' is now circled extra hard, and has been moved up a few steps on The Plan.

Dean ducks his head and smiles, shy and proud. Yep, it's still gonna be scary moving away from his mom and dad and he's gonna miss the hell out of his lil brother.

But he's got Cas.

Whatever happens, they're gonna be alright.

[trickscourse]

I'm not answering this anon with the ask attached because it has sensitive information about the person in question, and I don't want to doxx anyone. I don't talk to anyone who's abused anyone else, I don't enable people stalking Miles and Ambrose and I've gone out of my way to block them when they've reached out, which has been at least a dozen people.

An important thing is that I DON'T want to be a creepy cyberstalker, which is why I'm rarely on here and spending my time at my job, with my kid or actively in physical + emotional therapy. I'm not going to mention the fact I moved three times, soon to be a fourth because I am sick of being harassed and don't feel safe. This also means switching multiple jobs and throwing escaping my abusive stalker to a screeching halt.

The little "gotcha" about parafiles was stupid;- I haven't stopped covering and reporting Ezra, I just don't post about it because both sides want me dead! But I agree Ambrose saying the pediverse team is "doing fine without me" is just him being petty. I don't want to be part of a club, I want Ezra behind bars or in the electric chair.

His little quip about wanting me to end up like the lolcows he obsesses over and not doing it when "they're better than that", they're not, is disgusting. I'm not talking about my obsessive stalker because we agreed to mutually shut up until one of its victims mediates a conversation, but I can say parafiles will do anything to someone they don't like or see as a predator, the truth existing or not.

I haven't spoken to Ambrose directly in a few months, and I'm willing to talk again if I can get my meds and hope to god that Mage doesn't front and escalate things and make them a lot worse like she did before. The situation was bad, we were both hot headed and Mage was having a power trip, including laughing at his distress about the situation. That was fucked beyond belief.

This shouldn't have to be said, and I feel bad posting about him to begin with, and I've seen his weird essay that's most likely one of his ~tantrums~ but it wasn't okay for him to lie about my dog, mock my CSA trauma and issues that stemmed from it and generally do his weird Ambrose thing where he is insistent on hoping people get worse when months ago he said he could see us getting better.

Times have changed, definitely, but it sucks seeing him get REALLY excited at the idea that I'm in a few abusive relationships and that's apparently "all I deserve" and being /really/ classist about my and Arty's living situations.

Anon referenced the stalking, yeah, it's creepy as hell knowing that they spend their time in the water shoveling group chat, named after the time I got stuck with a natural disaster at my old job and was surrounded in live electric water and couldnt move and needed to move it away from shit that could make mustard gas, and getting off to me being a cringy high schooler.

My Youtube is basically a space where I dump most of the videos on my phone and fuck off for the day. I think if someone wants to hold a video of me crawling up my basement stairs at 18, or making pizza rolls at 11, they should straighten their priorities.

I'm aware most of his little crew wants me to kill myself, and I'm sure more people do based on seeing tags of the callout and getting screenshots from different people.

I'm annoyed that he wants my abuse to continue and is tossing the racism card in the ring when I don't hate mixed people and don't know where he got that from outside of commenting on a post where someone stepped over the line and made some comment about his dad I wasn't okay with and the fact he holds my CSA and grooming shit against my head and is WAY too proud of it.

Like most abuse victims, I don't like talking about how I was groomed, who did it, and exactly what happened, but the vomit thing isn't something I liked or enjoyed as a 15yo and it's a forced pavlov response at best. I don't owe anyone an explanation, but I will say the woman who groomed me into it loved that and DDLG.

Ambrose and his friends don't care about boundaries unless it's theirs, ranging from me begging them to stop contacting my previous and current employers (which at least one of them has) and saying things along the lines of "Did you know your employees has a callout post on tumblr? They're a pedophile. Fire them." and my bosses either don't care or are too old to understand what those words mean, and I shouldn't have to say that's creepy, but it is. (((:

[serendertothesquad]

Seren's Studies: Odd Squad UK -- "The New Ozzie" Episode Followup, Part 2

Planet-eaters! Stupidity! Weird-ass challenges! It all continues below the break.

See, now do you people understand why the Department of Help should be dissolved as a department?

Stupid on a scale of 5 is replaced by stupid on a scale of off-the-fucking-charts.

And this, folks, is why he really should have said "no challenges" and just be done with it.

"Captain, I found all this new land and planted an Odd Squad flag in it!"

"Great, what did you name it?"

"Newfoundland!"

"...Captain, please execute her."

I was 100% expecting him to go, "Yeah, sure!" and not just sit on it for 2 seconds before giving a simple "hmm no."

DID THE MAN SMARTEN UP???? DID HE??? DID HE?!?!?!?!

"You know why else I chose you for this job? Because I thought you were smart enough to handle it. But if you're going to run on social media influencer logic, then perhaps I was misguided."

"I have a problem, I call you. Then...you solve it."

"But- but the psychologist said my IQ was 110!"

"Then the psychologist can die along with you, me, Orli, Onom, and the rest of the world."

"...But my character descri-"

"...Right."

"We agreed never to discuss that."

She followed the plot, but then lost it just as quickly, I'm afraid.

THIS WAS AN ACTUAL SCENE FROM AN ACTUAL EPISODE?????? IT WASN'T MADE JUST FOR THE CONTEST?!?!?!?!

WAIT WAIT WAIT HOLD UP. BACK THE FUCK UP.

SO THAT...THE SLIME THING...THE THING WITH HIM GETTING SLIMED...

I WAS FUCKING RIGHT?!?!?!?! THAT'S FROM AN UPCOMING EPISODE?!?!?!?!

Fucking byootiful. Never in a million years.

Still doesn't solve the issue of why Ozzie has memories of the future...but I was half-right. God I'm so good. Hire me when.

I'd say "well see, Onom solved it on his own with Orli as a sidekick, three-person job my ass", but I'm looking at the runtime and deducing that I'm off the mark.

...WELL SEE ONOM SOLVED IT ON HIS OWN WITH ORLI AS A SIDEKICK. "THREE-PERSON JOB" MY ASS.

NO!!! DON'T SACRIFICE THE DOG!!! NOT THE WOOF-WOOF!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-

All right, I'm not pinning this sudden cut on Gemma so much as I'm pinning this sudden cut on whatever bumfuck is in charge of the editing team.

Though the fact half of them are breaking the fourth wall doesn't help either.

Huh, I was wrong about this being from "Odd Jubilee". Did not pin it as being from this episode.

It does end a lot smoother than "Odd Jubilee" did, though.

And your credits for this episode. I do like how they actually give the time to give characters who went unnamed in the show names in the credits, though. It's always been a thing, but now it seems more prominent.

Also, behold: one of the only times, if not the only time, Onom gets front-page billing. And good for him. The Odd Squad Nokotan deserves it.

----------------------------------

Overall, this was an episode I didn't quite enjoy. Way too much stupidity for my liking. I like my stupidity in small doses. This one is like five tablespoons' full in one go. Opie is the worst offender, and may we all pray she smartens up more before the events of "A Tour of Odd Squad" because otherwise that girl will not last, bless her heart.

Oh, and the planet-eater was nice to see. Though there are questions I have about that that will never get answered in a million years.

And of course, Onom as a child with purely inexplicable powers beyond any comprehension. He didn't need to drag Orli into this. He really didn't. But she's a main character, and so she is obliged to participate.

Gemma, I'd suggest you watch the show you're writing for before accepting the job offered to you. (Though in this day and age, with the kids TV industry the way it is...people are desperate, y'know?)

Next time will be for "Bad-Luck-itis", our third "Ozzie gets sick" incident in the span of a couple weeks our time. Poor man can't catch a break between bein' a lil' germ carrier and whatever dark and troubled past he's got goin' on.

Seren out!

[thatguyender]

Dying Light Short Story: Do you copy? (3/?)

Boom? Boom.

Standing on the upper level of the Embers' Tower, the bright sunlight blazing down from the skies, Oliver kneeled under the shades of the plastic covers that hung above him. Avoiding the deadly kiss

"One, two, three…" He frowned when he stopped at the third digit. It was meant to go up one more but there wasn't anything to count. Adjusting his earpiece over one ear and switched his tiny radio on. "Crane, you mentioned that we're supposed to have about four charges? I only see three here."

He inquired, peering inside the package retrieved from one of the tower's runners. It wasn't long before the plan to blow up the entrance to the nest was put into action, but they were a single charge short.

"Maybe you've miscounted? I remember clearly making four of them with the guys here and in that package."

He shakes his head, certain that he sees three cylinder objects in front of him.

Where on earth is the fourth?

"Nope, I'm not insane yet. I counted three. Savvy, mind doing a sanity check?"

A mohawked head pops out of the window. With a slight amusement, Savvy looks over at the young Turk.

"Sanity check: You're not missing anything. There is very much so three of them."

"There you have it. Thanks, man." Savvy gave a thumbs up before returning do hicky he was doing at the table. Probably something important but that doesn't concern him. Although, what's more important is where the fuck did that charge even go?

Did the runner make off with the fourth charge? Surely not.

Who would need explosives anyways?

...

Wait.

Wait a goddamn minute.

Oh no.

He knows exactly one person who would ever want to get their hands on something destructive. Even if it is small.

"Crane, could you check on Spiky?"

"Rahim? I can check on him. Why-"

B O O M

"RAHIM!"

Brecken's distant voice was audible, followed by the explosion that Oliver could hear from his side. Crane scoffed and pursued as he adjusted the microphone again.

"I found where it went."

Oliver let out a sigh; that would mean that he would need to find some other padlock to break again for some gunpowder.

"Yeah, I know."

[cyborg-alchemist]

Oh! I can answer some of these. Mind you, I'm in a four person chain polycule, so YMMV.

Birthdays are hard, calendars are easy(er). We also don't make a huge deal over birthdays. It's usually, like, buy something nice on etsy and go out to eat. It's also a little weird when we would literally be buying the gifts with their own money, since we pool all our paychecks into one account.

Dates are easier in pairs. We sometimes do stuff as a unit, but it's still way easier to have a few couple nights scattered throughout the week than to have one huge outing. I love all of you, but it takes 45 minutes to heard you all into one car.

Breakups are usually way easier in poly stuff, because you have folks to lean on and talk things over with. Just try not to get too accusatory. Breakups can be no-fault around here. Y'all just didn't click right, and that's ok.

Usually, you try and give them their stuff back? If you can't do that, dibs go to the person who can fit their clothes, and most other things become communal.

Absolutely not. No. Yes, I am sure, partner reading over my shoulder. Oh shit, now they're getting ideas...

Multiple bathrooms are huge, if anyone takes long showers, but it's not that big a deal. It's easier if you're comfortable peeing in front of each other, though.

Separate. Beds. You can have sleepovers, but you need your own room. Four people piling into a California King is still hell if you're in the middle. Everyone wakes up at different times, goes to bed at different times, and has to pee in the middle of the night.

Buy more nutella. This is a scarcity issue. Or put your name on it, and if they are good partners who care about you, they'll leave it alone.

Separate beds, again. You can eat pretzels in YOUR bed, but not mine. Also, regular family meetings help with similar issues that aren't bed related. It really helps to figure out what the need is, and how to fulfill that need without distressing the rest of the household.

Keep enough friends outside the polycule, and occasionally bounce relationship issues off them instead. If they say "that sounds pretty culty, bro" you do some thinking about power dynamics and who has say over what.

Actually, one of us really likes grocery shopping, and is usually the one to do that. I do inventory and hand off the list, then another person usually puts the stuff away, and a fourth is currently prepping some things for storage. I cook dinners, another preps lunches, a third divvies up bulk things into snack packs, and the fourth is making drinks and muffins for breakfasts. There's a LOT of division of labor.

Yes, we have a fridge/freezer, and a freezer. We also kind of decided that costco wasn't actually very good for the more expensive foods, and found a restaurant supply store that doesn't require a business license to shop there. Chicken thighs are still at 2018 prices, if you buy them by the 40 lb bag. You just need enough freezer space and small boxes to store them in 2lb units.

If you find someone who genuinely enjoys washing dishes, you THANK god for sending you that blessing, no notes. Maybe put them in a cute apron or something? I dunno.

Things that I imagine must be really hard about being in a polycule

Remembering everyone's birthday

Scheduling a group date night where everyone's free

A bad breakup where someone leaves and everyone's messed up about it. Like if it was just me I could wallow in solitude but like damn what do you even do. Talk shit?

Related to 3 but if someone breaks up from the polycule and leaves their stuff behind then who gets dibs. Is it like by seniority or do you draw straws or what

Finding a group Halloween costume that everyone is equally hyped for

Sharing a bathroom if you all live in the same place

Idk about this one but what's the sleeping situation in the summer. Like in the winter having a group pile sounds cozy as fuck but in the summer?? When it's sweaty and awful??? Bruh I'm on the couch

I don't trust ANYONE not to eat my Nutella and for every extra person there's an additional threat I must calculate my defense against

How do you tell someone in the 'cule they need to stop eating pretzel sticks in bed without it feeling like an intervention. Is there an assigned emissary that speaks on behalf of the collective. Again, do you just draw straws? Drawing straws seems like a really good solution to a lot of these actually huh

Is there some kind of self-evaluation system that holds yall back from accidentally becoming a cult do yall just see Kim head out for a date in a white robe one morning and roll with it

Does everyone do their own grocery shopping or is it all like one big trip?

Is there enough room in the fridge for everyone's stuff or does the one with the deepfreeze reign eternal like immortan joe

If I was in a polycule and we all collectively stopped being attracted to the person who genuinely enjoys washing dishes then I don't think I'd be able to break it off with them I think I'd have to just handle that with god

[thasorns-moved]

— Tyler Knott Gregson