#Prompt 09

[sweethoneyrose83]

Dialogue prompt ideas of Nicole's personality and style for a "Class of '09" Whatever:

Nicole’s Sarcastic Side

“Oh, great. Another meeting. Just what I needed to complete my day of endless boredom.”

“Wow, you really think that’s gonna work? Adorable.”

"Please, tell me more about how you're totally in control of the situation. It's super convincing."

Nicole’s Competitive Streak

“You want to beat me? Get in line, sweetheart.”

“Second place is just first loser. Hope you’re cool with that.”

“Is this seriously your best? I’m not even warmed up yet.”

Nicole’s Caring Yet Blunt Nature

“Look, I’m not saying you’re wrong, but… yeah, you’re wrong.”

“You want advice? Stop overthinking and just do it.”

“I’ve got your back, even if you’re about to screw this up. Again.”

Nicole’s Leadership and Confidence

“We don’t have time for indecision. Move, or I’ll move for you.”

“I’m not bossy. I’m just better at being in charge.”

“Follow my lead, and maybe—just maybe—you’ll come out of this alive.”

Nicole in a Crisis

“Panicking isn’t gonna solve this. So take a breath, and let’s figure it out.”

“Alright, we’re in deep. Time to improvise.”

“You can freak out later. Right now, I need you focused.”

Nicole’s Flirty Side

“I’d say you’re cute when you’re flustered, but that’d be a lie. You’re cute all the time.”

“You trying to impress me? ‘Cause it’s working. Just saying.”

“Keep looking at me like that and I might start to think you actually like me.”

Nicole’s Dark Humor

“If we die, I’m blaming you. No pressure, though.”

“Well, this is turning into a disaster. At least it’ll make a great story.”

“Nothing says ‘bad idea’ like jumping into the fire. So let’s do it.”

"If I had a dollar for every fake friend, I could’ve paid my way out of this school years ago."

[kayakin064]

B1 Tails

Tails is ready for a rainy day.

[sicklyiinlove]

Jeffery Graphic and Icon!!!!!! >;D

day 06 of @lavendergalactic 's silly week,, a character that would NOT last in a zombie apocalypse OR a character that'll instantly be cancelled on the internet !!

⟡ art used, 1 2 by @/donut-borsch

. f2u w credit !!

⟡ — I don’t support his actions btw. Don’t jump me. Semi-gift for my friend bc they’re hyper fixated on class of 09 and jeffery so ;3

[crossingthedreams]

promise — javier peña x f!reader

a/n: as a latin american woman who works with human rights (hey, now you know something you didn’t!), when I first watched Narcos I wanted to kill the producers. it’s a very north-american-centered production, even with all the accurate content. but it did grow on me, and the acting is superb. I loved javier’s character, and i’ve been wanting to write something about him. and tbh, this sounded like something that would happen. it’s short, because it hits close to home for me, but I might write stuff like this in the future. anyway, here’s (late, obv) @angstober day 09 — promise. 

summary: sometimes, a person breaks their promise. and isn’t that the biggest fucking tragedy?

word count: 369

warnings: angst.

“You promised, Javi”, you spoke, tears streaming down your face. “You promised no more investigations, no more violence, no more. You promised me”. 

You were fully aware your voice was sounding more and more choked. You didn’t want to wipe away the tears, you couldn’t. You barely had the strength to talk, let alone move right now. 

Once more, Javier was leaving. This time, for God knows how long. After he had promised everything would be alright, that everything would work out. 

You weren’t unreasonable, you didn’t expect him to solve all the problems you’d ever have. No, you just expected him to be there — there at birthdays, Christmases, Easters, and all that crap. That’s all you wanted from him, and apparently, that was too much to ask. 

He had said he would take you with him, that the two of you would stay together, but you couldn’t go. You refused to be his little wife keeping his home clean and neat while he was risking his life everyday. Not because there was anything wrong with housewives, but because you and him agreed on something else. You leaving your home and work to be closer to him while he put himself in danger every single day was not part of that agreement. 

You loved him. Right now, you had to love yourself more. 

The promise he made was no good, and it was the very last straw. Because as he was leaving, you saw it in his eyes that he expected you to forgive him and go with him to a different continent, to fight a sovereignty-defying semi-imperialist nonsensical war in another country that would kill more innocents than guilty. You wouldn’t. 

Because even if the promise he made you was breakable, the one you made yourself wasn’t. You wouldn’t create a life in which you’d be scared to wake up everyday and regret corroded you inside out like it did your mother, and her mother before her. 

Javi had hugged you before leaving, and the smell of him still impregnated your nostrils. You both were doing what you believed to be the right thing. Too fucking bad it cost your relationship in the proccess. 

[possibility221]

Inktober 2024, Oct. 09 prompt: sun

Elementary episode: 2x18

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

Just 09 Captain Soap being drooled over by the rest of the team cuz, that man is EVERYTHING. Who wouldn't drool over him?

Honest! 09 Soap gives off such a different vibe from 22 Soap but I love it!

And I know that man would for damn sure know the effect he has on everyone and fucking relish in it! Full on, goes out of his way to tease the others and laughs when he sees them all trying to (somewhat) hide their reactions.

Except Ghost. He’d be absolutely shameless in his drooling, would probably even go the extra mile and be blatant with his attraction and affection for the other.

He’s probably the only one who can actually fluster Soap with it as well, the captain still going out of his way to tease but blushing like mad while he’s at it.

[oldfangirl81]

Pounding on a door.

"Hey! Anyone out there!?! Can someone please let me out of the closet? This feels like bad deja vu. I already came out years ago."

Hen blinked before rushing to move a large chair that was blocking the door.

"Well Tommy, they do say coming out is a continuous event."

~

And now I'm going to have to write my own bachelor party fic.

[shrinkthisviolet]

Summary:

Cisco's finally uncovered why Barry was acting so off that night: he was Savitar all along, manipulating him. But now the key question arises: what does Savitar want?

So…I know I said the other oneshot would be a standalone, and it still mostly is, but thanks to @alittleflashvibe's tags on their lovely reblog of my prompt fill (especially this one: "#and the morning after i've got chills just thinking about it"), I got inspired to write a little Savisco follow-up with an Angstober prompt! This isn't the morning after per se, but it is sometime after that night, and Cisco has at this point figured Savitar out.

This fills the @angstober prompt "Promise"!

[ratwithhands]

Might've done this wrong but I was thinking about the whole vinegar drinking joke while I was waiting for this prompt. Anyways here's Emmet stepping into the Lost And Found Office for a quick break and a drink. See you guys in a bit.

[iwantjellyfsh]

Crossover Fics I would die happy if were created.

TGCF x DC Universe - Mu Qing gets into DC universe somehow and becomes either becomes a League of Assassins' servant (Damian's personal one) or Alfred adopts him. Either way exploring what Mu Qing feels being a servant to the wealthy again. Or in the Damian one, Mu Qing comes to Gotham with Damian because like hell is he letting this literal child go alone (he's getting Hong Honger flashbacks). And the batfamily just wonders why tf Damian is so not a little demon brat to Mu Qing. (there has to be some symbolism with blue, like if he wears it bc that's what he wore during the Xian Le servant era)

DC Universe x Class of 09 - Kind of like a Magic & Mystery situation with Tim Drake infuriating the school. It could be a trafficking ring because of how many p3doph!les there are or smt. Either Tim interacting with the absolute insanity that is (I think the game location is georgetown?) highschool. Or him coming back messed up to bits like "Miss. I'm a sociopath" is coming back with a bang. The ending with prison maybe Timcole can see Joker? And manipulate him? Either joins the rouges or manipulates them.

MDZS x DC Universe - Lan Wangji as Damian Wayne makes so much sense to me. Emotionless, rule following, animal lovers. Would Lan Zhan find comfort in the LOA? Following their rules and training? It's just really interesting... does he find Wei Wuxian (ship of choice)? Lan Xichen (definitely Dick Greyson)?

TGCF x DC Universe - Hua Cheng / Tim going crazy trying to find Xie Lian. Becomes a rouge and breaks into bat cave cutely. Batfamily or the Sirens start finding the little stalker cute. Maybe Xie Lian just doesn't exist in this world and Ra's tries to grab the little psycho. Maybe he becomes batman when Bruce get's lost in the time stream?

Black Butler x DC Universe - Ciel Phantomhive as Bruce Wayne. Sebastian Michaels as Alfred Pennyworth... Unlocked after Bruces parents die? Alfred always knew????

Angels of Death x DC Universe - I want Rachel at the ending to attempt self delete but she like fails (Zack is still gone (maybe)) and decides to run away to the states. I want Rachel to attempt to be like Zach and for Jason to find her. Like he's doing his shtik at the LOA and he find Tichel either getting hurt or murdering someone. Or Tichel is still Red Robin somehow but they imprint on each other when Jason goes to kill them. I want family feels luving !!!

Bungo Stray Dog's x DC Universe - Rampo dies super sad but BUT he comes back as Damian Wayne and can you imagine this 26 year old man who's never run a mile in his life do assasin training? LOA doesn't give good vibes and Ramian makes that everyones problem. Also he completely shows up Tim Drake and Bruce Wayne "Smartest Detective Duo" This is his PRIDE on the line ppl! Does he do vigilante things or sneak in the background because violence is boring snacks are life?

Genshin Impact x JJK - Imagine Kaebedo as Satosugu. Does Albedo take the Gojo Clans whole thing laying down? Imagine calm Gojo I think canon would combust. Kaeya stays mostly the same in my opinion...

Danny Phantom x Class of 09 - Nicole dies then just decides to sonder off to the most haunted place ever™. She could become Danni (clone) somehow or be Phantom... Ghost King Nicole is my Roman Empire she'd burn the place to the ground.

TGCF x Naruto - Can go Kakashi as Xie Lian or Xie Lian as Kakashi, either way is about to come more traumatized than anyone barganed for. Obito / Hua Cheng can come too because the obsessiveness. Make Hua Cheng / Obito a little more crazy and he wants infinate Tsukoyomi so Xie Lian / Kakashi will quit being traumatized !!! Codependency is key and they could both join Akatsuki for shits and giggles.

Demon Slayer x Angels of Death - Muichiro with Rachel Gardener personality is curious... how much would be different?

[catalogofmundanity]

Prompt:

What is on your desk?

Bonus Details: What your living situation is, what you do at your desk, what country you're in

I'll start: Pile of posters to hang, clothing that is too small, sketchbooks, notebooks, a nonbinary flag, lactaid, a college mug filled with pens/pencils/a magic wand, a calender, a temporary tattoo, a dagger, a sketchbook I actually use (as opposed to old ones), a coloring book, a massager, washi tape, books, a corset, a cloth shopping bag. I live in the northeast US, currerntly do not use my desk (just put things on it), and live in a small apartment.

Answers will be compiled in their own post. Respond any way you wish-- reblog, reply, send in an ask. Reminder that answers to not need to be interesting or impressive, and should reflect your reality as a person.

[kyouka-supremacy]

Thinking about pre getting together sskk where Atsushi can sense Akutagawa is significantly more relaxed and affable with him when they're alone yet cold and mean every time there's other people around and he's deeply hurt by the change and them fighting over it and them telling each other “So you're mad I'm kind at you? What do you want Jinko” “I want you to hate me when we're alone too” because. yeah

[d4rkwater]

𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐇 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 ⸺ 𝖯𝖮𝖵 𝖮𝟦.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐎 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓. menção: @misshcrror @silencehq @andrvna

                                             ⸻ ・ ⸻

Depois que foi tomado pela escuridão, Joseph despertou com o grito das gaivotas e o cheiro úmido e salgado da maresia em alto mar. Pode ouvir a voz de sua mãe distante, conversando com outra pessoa, um assunto que pouco entendia, afinal, era sempre trabalho. Desnorteado e ainda deitado no chão quente pelo sol, ouviu passos se aproximando e, quando conseguiu se virar para certificar-se quem era, pegou sua avó de joelhos o encarando com um sorriso gracioso nos lábios. — Isso são horas para um cochilo, Joe? Vem, levante, estamos quase chegando. — O chamado fez o semideus levantar, mas o corpo ainda era fraco e teve pouco equilíbrio quando se colocou em pé. Estava zonzo e, para ajudar, confuso com tudo aquilo. Se lembrava perfeitamente do navio e seu cheiro horrível de peixe. Sua mãe comentou que o barco pesqueiro era o único disponível naquele dia e que, infelizmente, teriam que utilizá-lo na pesquisa. Era tudo ou nada já que a previsão indicava fortes chuvas nos próximos dias.

O olhar curioso percorreu toda a embarcação, era do jeitinho que se lembrava, incluindo com seus tios separando e preparando todos os equipamentos para um mergulho seguro. Sua avó já tinha idade, mas entre todos os profissionais ali, possuía mais experiência em mergulho e corais. Tinha que ser ela, eles diziam por mais preocupados que ficassem. Sua mãe se ofereceu para acompanhar, mas o velho Scott a impediu, se fosse para alguém acompanhar a velhota, que fosse ele. E lá estavam os dois, colocando suas roupas de mergulho enquanto Joseph os encarava sem entender. Por qual razão estava ali? Sua mãe pareceu perceber, tanto que se aproximou o puxando para um meio abraço. — Que foi? Normalmente você é sempre o empolgado aqui. Deixe-me adivinhar… Esqueceu de tomar café? Para a sua sorte trouxe alguns lanches, está na cabine. — E o semideus nada disse, apenas permaneceu ali parado, os observando como se estivesse revivendo uma lembrança antiga.

E essa, sinceramente, não tinha um final feliz.

Joseph parecia mais um espectador, mas sempre que lhe pediam algo, estava feito sem ele se quer ter se mexido ou saído do lugar. Todos o tratavam como um garotinho, mas ali estava ele, com 23 anos e mais alto que qualquer um ali presente. Era engraçado, reconfortante, mas ao mesmo tempo se sentia assustado, amedrontado e ansioso. Ele sabia que algo iria acontecer, mas não conseguia interver. Na verdade ele tentou, algo que realmente ocorreu na época quando questionou o perigo dos tubarões. A região era famosa pela quantidade grande de tubarões brancos por ali, tanto que mergulhos só eram liberados para profissionais ou casos bem específicos. Ouviu um dos tios comentar que nenhum deles entraria na gaiola, apesar da abertura em cima, era praticamente impossível um tubarão de quase 5m passar e machucar quem estivesse dentro. Acreditou naquilo, assim como acreditou na época, não tinha porque se preocupar, mas… Por que ele estava com tanto medo assim? O peito de Joseph doía e o aperto no coração crescia. Chegou a ficar sem ar quando a avó e o tio entraram na água, já na gaiola, prontos para concluírem mais um dia de trabalho.

Foi então que algo chamou sua atenção.

Ninguém viu ou percebeu uma nuvem escura se aproximando do barco pelas costas, mas Joseph sentiu o vento frio e até mesmo ouviu o som dos primeiros raios. A previsão estava enganada então? As chuvas chegariam naquele dia e não no seguinte. Ele tentou avisar todo mundo, mas ninguém o escutava. O medo transformou-se em pânico quando o sol sumiu e o dia deu lugar a noite. Viu a expressão surpresa da mãe e os demais colegas quando encararam o céu pela primeira vez. Corram! Ele dizia e repetia, mas ninguém parecia ouvi-lo. O semideus encarou a água agitada, aquela altura não conseguia mais ver sua avó e tio, eles já estavam no fundo. Apenas torceu para que tudo ali terminasse bem, já que na embarcação o caos começou a ser instaurado.

O barco se balançava de um lado para o outro, as ondas se tornaram maiores, ao ponto de invadir o barco e arrastar tudo e todos, menos ele. Ele nunca era atingido, era como se o mar desviasse de Joseph. Sua mãe começou a gritar com os outros companheiros de trabalho, mas não era um grito estético ou carregado de ordens, era mais um tom alto que torcia para ser ouvido em meio a tempestade que caia. Precisavam proteger os equipamentos e, ao mesmo tempo, cuidar dos outros dois que estavam submersos. A ansiedade foi aumentado, podia sentir o corpo inteiro estremecendo enquanto o pânico voltava a sufocar seu peito. O arrepio na nuca sinalizou a chegada do perigo, aquele que sua mente fez questão de guardar bem no fundo do seu subconsciente. A grande e forte corrente que mantinha a ligação entre o barco e a gaiola protetora se rompeu, fazendo pequenos fios de aço rebater na lataria do barco e em quem estivesse na sua frente. Joseph até tentou correr, num impulso idiota, de tentar segurar aquele fio e impedir que sua avó e tio se perdessem no fundo do mar. Só que nada pode fazer, o corpo não respondia a nenhum estímulo.

O que antes jurou ser um raio cortando os céus pelo som estridente, agora via com clareza a Hidra emergindo com a gaiola presa entre os dentes de uma das cabeças, partida ao meio e, para o desespero do filho de Poseidon, vazia. Naquele momento conseguiu levar o palmo direito até o pescoço na buscar pelo colar, sua arma. Para a surpresa de Joseph não tinha nada e, quando olhou para a própria mão, viu os dedos pequenos, assim como seus braços e o restante de seu corpo. A tragédia camuflada ocorreu quando ele tinha apenas sete anos. Ele queria lutar. Ele tentou com todas as duas forças, mas tudo o que conseguiu foi apenas assistir mais uma vez seus únicos familiares morrendo para o gigantesco monstro enquanto sua mãe, que engolindo o desespero, lutou com toda bravura e coragem para tirá-lo dali com vida. Foi então que lembrou-se daquela sussurrando, implorando, para que seu pai o salvasse.

Era desesperador saber que poderia fazer algo, mas naquele corpo, não tinha condições de salvar ninguém. Queria e muito mudar o rumo daquela tragédia, tanto que Joseph chorou e se culpou por ser tão fraco e inútil. A Hidra não se contentava em machucar as pessoas que ele amava, ela ainda queria mais, queria sua mãe e, no final de tudo, ele. Chegou a questionar por qual razão o monstro não o atacou de uma vez, deixando assim sua família em paz. E quando a criatura estava prestes a derrubar ambos do barco, Joseph tropeçou e, quando sua ficha caiu, ali estava ele na beira da fenda empurrando Yasemin.

Não! Não! Não! Sua mente gritou e novamente tentou impedir o corpo de agir por conta própria. Há poucos segundos estava vendo seus familiares morrendo nas garras de um monstro marinho, agora… Agora o monstro era o próprio Joseph. Ele lutou no desespero para evitar que Yasemin caísse, implorou para que a filha de Deimos reagisse, afinal, ela era tão esperta e perfeita em combate. Ela teria um plano, sim. E mesmo com medo, com receio do pior, ele se agarrou a essa esperança até ter seu coração partido igual vidro. Joseph empurrou e soltou Yasemin que, em poucos segundos, foi engolida pela escuridão da fenda. As vozes eufóricas comemoravam a oferenda que, no final, foi melhor que um simples colar. O bem mais sagrado de um semideus deve ser dado a mim. E ele deu. Ele deu o bem mais sagrado e precioso do seu mundo como oferenda. Ele foi incapaz de resistir e lutar contra tudo só para salvá-la. Ele foi fraco. A tristeza veio acompanhada da angústia, o grito desesperado em meio às lágrimas da culpa e do luto fizeram o filho de Poseidon desejar a morte. Cada milímetro do seu corpo doía e Joseph só foi capaz de gritar uma última vez antes de desmaiar.

Acordar desnorteado parecia comum nas últimas 24hs, mas dessa vez não despertou em meio aos traumas antigos, mas sim na enfermaria do acampamento com um filho de Apolo entrando na sala. E aquele feito, por mais inofensivo que fosse, colocou Joseph em alerta máximo. Não soube explicar, mas a cada passo dado pelo filho de Apolo em sua direção, mais o coração de Joseph parecia explodir dentro de seu peito. Teve medo do toque, chegando a recusar ajuda no primeiro momento, mas estava tão fraco que foi obrigado a aceitar os cuidados. Principalmente no antebraço que foi queimado na luta contra Yasemin. Lembrar da semideusa o deixava ansioso e não era de um modo bom.

Não quis falar nada com o filho de Apolo, apenas abriu a boca ao pedir para chamar Quíron. Precisava falar com o centauro antes que as vozes voltassem. Ele sabia que não estava livre delas, afinal, ainda tinha uma ordem a ser cumprida e o filho de Poseidon se recusava a obedecer. Ele não queria o seu pior trauma se tornando realidade. Fora que o abuso sofrido em seu psicológico, junto ao ataque forçado e obrigado de Yasemin, deixou a mente de Joseph em pedaços. Ele sabia, podia sentir, que fraco daquele jeito representava só mais um perigo para o acampamento.

Permaneceu em repouso, as feridas em seu corpo não eram nada comparadas as memórias remexidas e trazidas de volta. Sabia que parte das ilusões de Yasemin causavam exagero no que via, mas Joseph não sabia ao certo se tudo aquilo, no passado com a hidra, foi realmente exagero ou a mais dura realidade. A própria mente lhe pregou uma peça escondendo aquilo e, para piorar, sua mãe nunca contou o que de fato havia acontecido, ela apenas confirmava a história do filho.

Quando o Centauro chegou e passou pela porta, Joseph logo se sentou na maca como podia, ignorando qualquer pedido para que permanecesse deitado, afinal, ele queria que vissem o quão forte ele era. Nada de corpo mole. E a surpresa maior foi ver o Sr. D. entrando logo em seguida, com seu típico jeito de quem sempre esteve ali e louco eram os campistas de achar que tivesse sumido. — Ah, Josiah está acordado, que maravilha! — Era engraçado como a falsa empolgação de Dionísio não condizia com suas feições. Já Quíron, por outro lado, lançava um olhar preocupado e até mesmo cauteloso para Joseph. — Diga-me, rapaz, o que aconteceu? — O olhar cruzou mais uma vez com o de Quíron, desviando apenas quando buscou fitar o chão. — Já tem um tempo que comecei a ouvir essas vozes… No começo não era nada demais, só um incômodo insignificante, era como ter outro campista falando sem parar próximo ao chalé. — Foi sincero, assim como seu olhar. — Só que aí, durante uma noite, algo me fez sair do chalé após o toque de recolher, me puxando até a cachoeira. — Foi então que Dionísio ignorou sua latinha de Coca-Cola light e o interrompeu impaciente. — Vamos, sem enrolação, nos conte de uma vez o que elas diziam. — Ele queria falar, queria dar detalhes mais profundos, mas graças ao medo ainda impregnado em sua mente, era quase impossível. — Eu juro que tentei resistir, eu juro. — Disse eufórico, chegando a cogitar levantar da maca, mas foi impedido por Quíron que apenas sinalizou para que ficasse ali. — Precisamos que nos conte tudo o que aconteceu, Joseph, só assim encontraremos uma forma de ajudar você.

Quíron tinha razão, ele só conseguiria se livrar de tudo aquilo se contasse, mesmo que um detalhe ou outro fosse omitido. — Foi me dado uma ordem, elas querem que eu entregue o bem mais sagrado de um semideus. — Foi enquanto e, sem dizer mais nada, retirou colar de pérolas escondido embaixo do travesseiro. — Eu… Eu roubei esse colar da Andrina. De todos os campistas que conheço, o peso que ele tem para ela é enorme e pareceu agradar a fenda. — Diante da curiosidade de Quíron e, até a de Dionísio, Joseph lhes entregou o colar de pérolas. — Eu pretendo devolver assim que sair daqui. — Completou. — Blá-blá-blá, agora me diga, Petrix estava na cachoeira? Você conversou com ele? — Joseph apenas negou com a cabeça antes de prosseguir. — Nunca o vi, era sempre só as vozes.

Dionísio pareceu insatisfeito. — E elas te pediram mais alguma coisa além disso? — Agora foi Quíron quem retomou sua atenção. — Na luta com Yasemin elas… Bom, elas me pediram para empurrá-la como oferenda. — A voz de Joseph chegou a falhar conforme pronunciava as últimas palavras. Pode sentir o que chamam de doce amargor em sua boca, além do frio presente na boca do estômago. Se não fosse pela presença de ambos ali, já teria vomitado só pela lembrança que teve. — E você desejou empurrar, Jasmin? — Normalmente achava engraçado a maneira como Dionísio trocava os nomes, mas não naquele momento. — Eu desejei matar meu pai, mesmo ciente que jamais conseguiria, mas ainda sim estava disposto a obedecer o pedido com prazer. — A maneira fria como o filho de Poseidon confessou aquilo fez a veia na testa de Dionísio quase explodir. — Aceitei matar Poseidon, mas não empurrar Yasemin.

A preocupação no olhar de Quíron beirava o palpável. — Essas vocês ainda te atormenta? Consegue ouvi-las nesse instante? — Desde que acordou sua cabeça doía. Tudo estava aos pedaços, não conseguia organizar nada, apenas se sentia violado de todas as maneiras possíveis. — Agora? Não… Mas eu sei que elas vão continuar, eu não terminei o que foi ordenado. — Mesmo com todo aquele silêncio, a sensação de ser constantemente observado ainda permanecia ali. Era o que mantinha Joseph em alerta. — Eu não quero isso… Eu não quero mais ouvir ou obedecer. — Naquele instante foi a primeira vez que ouviu o centauro suspirar. Já Dionísio voltou a expor seu descontentamento com a conversa após não conseguir nada sobre Petrus. — Existe um jeito, mas você precisa estar ciente que isso irá mexer mais uma vez com sua mente. — Engoliu seco, mas assentiu. — Irei designar um filho da magia para ajudar nessa missão. Assim que estiver com tudo em mãos, passarei as ordens. Só peço para que cumpra cada etapa, Joseph. O que iremos utilizar não poderá ser feito duas vezes, então trate de descansar. — O semideus sentiu o corpo relaxando a postura contra a maca depois de ouvir o centauro. E mais uma vez apenas assentiu. Quando Quíron estava prestes a sumir pela porta, Joseph o chamou uma última vez. — Quíron. — ao centauro de virou. — A Yas… Ela está bem…? — Tudo o que lembrava era de ter machucado a filha de Deimos, fora as palavras que foram direcionadas a ela durante toda a briga. Era impossível não se sentir culpado e preocupado. — Sim, ela está.

[magicalincorrectrobodokiquotes]

Dokiween, Day 31: Monster Mash (Part 2)

Halloween challenge by @melodic-b4nter

[annaofthenorthernlights]

@fluffbruary

day 09 - Evening

[pollylynn]

Lookout—A Caskett One-Shot Insert for Love Me Dead (2 x 09)

This is in response to an anonymous prompt, which I've included at the end so as not to spoil. Thank you for the prompt, Anon! This is in place of a chapter of Fabrications tonight; I had a pile of other people's failures dropped on my head tonight and I just didn't make it to the dreadmill.

Title: Lookout WC: 1400

He follows her from the perfect distance. He draws close, then falls back, skirting the edge of danger, because he can. He’s confident. He uses the comparatively thin, post–rush hour crowds to his advantage. Even when she darts suddenly ahead to eat up the last few blinking milliseconds of the little, white Walk man—to beat the red Don’t Walk palm to the punch—the distance he maintains is absolutely perfect at all times. 

He has skills. No, seriously. He is impressing even himself with how good he turns out to be at maintaining a tail. He supposes that she, ironically, deserves some credit for those skills. He’s picked up a thing or two in the last eight months, despite her total unwillingness to provide him hands-on instruction with the more vitally necessary—and coincidentally exciting—aspects of police work, like wheel work during high-speed pursuits, a place in the line-up for those cool, coordinated, weapons-drawn roll-outs when they’re clearing a room a suspect might be lurking in, or anything to do with the car radio. 

The joke’s on her, though, because he’s learned a thing or two anyway. Clearly. He never loses sight of her black leather trench. He has line of sight to its skirts as they whip behind her trying to keep up with her bad-ass stride. Or he has eyes on the tangerine streetlights sweeping over its shoulders. He can tell from the sharp clack of her heels against the pavement whether she’s going to slow suddenly to avoid a collision with some clueless pedestrian or pick up the pace to perfectly time her fluid movement between the slow-moving cars that are trying and failing to escape gridlock. 

He is crushing this tail so hard that he has some headspace to contemplate how, exactly, he’s going to continue surveillance once she actually hits Sutton’s. He’s not worried about her seeing him. No, he’s practically a ninja. There’s not a doubt in his mind that he can slip through the door undetected, fade into the woodwork, get close but not too close. 

But it’s the not-too-close that could—only could, mind you—present a problem. Close enough to eavesdrop is the goal. As entertaining as it is to tail her with the greatest of ease, it’s not actually an end in itself. He needs to know why his daughter is seeking her counsel instead of his. It’s an outrage, given that he is not just an expert in clandestine pursuit, but also the coolest of cool dads. It can and will not stand, so he needs to be within eavesdropping distance. Or not necessarily.  

He’s picturing payoffs. Or maybe a drinking glass to the high back of an adjacent booth. Or if there’s a spy shop along the way, he’s pretty sure he could nip in for bug-and-receiver set up, nip back out, and still not have lost her. Or he could lip read, right? Like, how hard can that even be, given all that he has discovered just tonight about the innate skills he has for intelligence gathering?

He’s hemming and hawing. He’s on his phone surfing for spy gear, though he’s grumpily aware that realistically speaking, toys worthy of a certain British secret agent will probably have to wait for some future op. He’s weighing the pros and cons of paying off a waitress or a bus boy versus flexing his lip-reading muscles when he nearly experiences internal decapitation courtesy of someone grabbing him quite literally by the collar. 

Courtesy of her grabbing him quite literally by the collar. 

“How long are you planning to keep this up,” she hisses. She seems to think his collar belongs to her now. She makes a compelling case, having him yanked down to eye level as she does.  Despite the fact that this is no great distance, given the height of those informatively clacking heels, it’s painful. It’s almost as painful as that very first memorable ear grab on the campus of Redding Prep. 

“Beckett! What are you . . . I mean. Wow! Running into each other like . . .crazy, right?”  His ability to feign surprise is definitely not in the same league as his mad surveil and tail skills. Or maybe it’s in exactly that league, given that she has him by the collar. Still, he soldiers on. “I mean . . . crazy!”

She ignores his stammering amateur theater. He’s not sure if that’s mercy or contempt. “What is wrong with you?”

“I have a right to know!” he blurts. The declaration loses something, given the involuntary yodel that creeps into his voice. “She’s a child, and if she’s in deep to the mob for thirty large, I need to know.” 

“Just how big an idiot are you trying to be, Castle? Is there like . . a contest?” She releases his collar—finally—thrusting him away from her in a gesture of disgust. “You think your kid—the child of a millionaire—is going to come to me to solve her mob payoffs?”

“Maybe she wants to turn state’s evidence!” He makes a show of setting his shirt and overcoat to rights. “Maybe she’s worried about her loved ones’ kneecaps!” 

She’s working on an artisanally crafted look that will convey precisely how unlikely she finds this concept. He’s bracing for it when he spies a glint of red-gold hair in the not-nearly-distant-enough distance. He catches a glimpse of pale cheek. He sees her lifting on her toes and ducking around people’s shoulders trying to get a look at the interior of the cafe to see if her confidant—her practically-a-stranger confidant—is already at the meet. 

He panics. That is the explanation he will carry to his grave. And given that he’s kissing her—he is suddenly kissing Beckett—he might be carrying it to that grave in hurry. He has her by the lapels of her trench coat. As he turns their two bodies to present his back to the general area containing his daughter, a desperate part of his brain wonders if the fact that he doesn’t have his hands on her actual person will, in any way, save him. 

But the desperate part of his brain falls quiet. All parts of his brain fall quiet, because he is kissing her, and she is . . . kind of kissing him back. No. Strike that. She is completely kissing him back for the span of many Mississippis. He knows this instinctively. It's not like his quiet brain can count. But he knows it's been a lot of Mississippis before they jolt apart, shocked in equal measure. 

“She’s here.” It’s a high-quality stage whisper, facilitated, no doubt, by the fact that every part of his body is stock still, frozen with terror. “Alexis . . . she is . . . is she behind me?” 

“What?” The word is breathy. It’s ragged and she’s blinking a mile a minute. “Where?” 

“She was going to . . . see.” It’s the worst justification in the world. He wishes he hadn’t said it before the sibilant vibrates his already-vibrating lips. It invites the question of what his daughter was going to see before his super-spy move and what she very well could have seen just now. 

She has accepted the question’s invitation. Or vice versa. Whatever. She is thinking about what his daughter very well may have seen, and her eyes are wide. She claws her way past him. 

“She’s sitting down,” she says. Relief rolls right off her. “She’s on her phone.” 

“Does she look—“ 

The rest of the question is lost as she shoves at his shoulder to keep him from turning around. He wants to protest, but against all odds, he’s survived the last forty-five seconds. It’d be a shame to die now. 

“Go,” she says through her teeth. He’d like to oblige. Kind of. But she has his collar again. “Get out of here.” She’s hissing again, right in his ear this time, her front pressed into his back, and it’s difficult. “Go, Castle.” 

“I . . .” He tries not to squirm, but it’s fairly impossible. “I’m going, if you’ll . . . You’ve kind of got my . . .” 

She makes a sound. It’s a small, surprised thing, and he imagines her mouth in the shape of an O. He imagines a sudden multitude of things about her mouth as her fingers violently untangle themselves from his collar, and she is gone. 

He is rooted to the spot. He is picturing monuments right here. He kissed her. 

A/N: I know it's not quite the prompt you gave, Anon, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless.

Prompt: prompt: they’re arguing and character a shuts up character b with a kiss