#wip: cassie gets a pocket (or three)

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for lottie behind the cut; “Cassie gets a Pocket (or three)”. Includes a lil' bit of rewritten/expanded-on stuff at the beginning; I did some fiddling-around there. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“It’s three boys, Cissie!” Cassie wails, yanking at her hair. 

“Three boys who might hear you if you don’t keep your voice down,” Cissie reminds her pointedly, and Cassie snaps her teeth shut. She didn’t mean–she doesn’t mean–

But maybe she kind of does mean, because it is three BOYS. Her mom is gonna lose her mind and everyone at school is gonna talk and–and assume stuff, and–and how are all three of them her soulmate?! Her! Of everyone in this tent! 

Like–at least the three of them’d saved Secret from the DEO that one time, it’d make sense if she was their soulmate, and Cissie’s so pretty and Superboy’s clearly into her even though he hasn’t even noticed Cassie is alive, plus Cissie already knows Bart from like–wherever she actually knows Bart from, that was admittedly unclear–and she doesn’t have superpowers or anything either, she’s just smart and well-trained like Robin, so like–so Cissie would make sense, and Secret would make sense, but how does Cassie make sense?! Cassie is the least possible sense-making option! There is no option where Cassie is the option that makes sense! 

She doesn’t make sense, and everyone is going to be awful about it, and she’s going to have three boys to worry about keeping, like–happy or whatever and–how is she even supposed to do that?!

They’re not even going to–

They won’t think it makes sense either, she thinks with a nauseous twist in her stomach. Superboy’s gonna be disappointed that it’s her instead of an actual, like, pretty girl, and Bart’ll just be confused it’s anyone at all, and Robin will be politely disinterested and still not show her his face or even tell her his name, probably, and–and–! 

“They’re just–it’s all three of them, Cissie,” Cassie hisses helplessly, trying to keep her voice down. “And Superboy and Robin already don’t get along, and Bart is just–Impulse! He’s Impulse! What am I supposed to even do?” 

“Admittedly I can’t imagine any of them being any good at sharing,” Cissie sighs, tilting her head into a hand. “Well, Robin can probably fake it, but that’s only gonna last ‘til Bart or the Kid piss him off hard enough.” 

“Sharing what?” Secret asks curiously. 

“. . . uh,” Cissie says, clearing her throat a little. “Well, like–Cassie, I mean.” 

Secret blinks, tilting her head to one side with a puzzled expression. Cassie experiences every single stage of grief simultaneously and buries her face in her hands. 

“I don’t get it,” Secret says, sounding confused. “Why do they all have to share Cassie? Can’t you all take, um, turns with each other?” 

“That is . . . really not how that works, Secret,” Cissie says as Cassie discovers a new stage of grief or twelve and just, like . . . very, very slowly sinks down onto her side, curls up in a ball, and just buries herself back in her sleeping bag. Pocket Superboy and Pocket Impulse both screech indignantly; Pocket Robin scampers up her flank and up her side in a quick series of light little hops, and ends up perched lightly on her bicep as Pocket Impulse clings to her temple and Pocket Superboy–floats, probably, Cassie doesn’t know; she’s too busy hiding her face in her hands and herself in her sleeping bag. 

Pocket Robin chirps something short and authoritative-sounding in Pocket-talk–or at least, as authoritative-sounding as Pocket-talk ever gets–and Pocket Impulse jeers back something cranky-sounding. Pocket Superboy doesn’t say anything, but Pocket Robin lets out a disgruntled little grumble, so Cassie just assumes Pocket Superboy’s flipping him off or something. Probably Pocket Superboy’s flipping him off, yeah. 

“Huh,” Cissie says in a bemused tone as Secret coos adoringly. “Well, I guess we did say that Pockets were more emotionally honest.” 

“They’re so cute I want to suffocate them,” Secret croons in obvious delight, which is possibly the least normal thing she’s said so far in the long list of not-normal things she’s said so far, but also–

“What?” Cassie says blankly. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to actually look, girl, you’re not gonna believe it if you don’t see it for yourself,” Cissie replies frankly. Cassie frowns into her hands, then spreads her fingers just enough to peer out past them, and finds Pocket Impulse making a face and Pocket Robin looking long-suffering as Pocket Superboy, uh . . . well, like . . . 

“. . . are they hugging,” Cassie asks incredulously. Like, she knows Pockets are usually pretty affectionate with each other, at least as long as they’re not from, like, wildly morally-opposed people or whatever, but Superboy and Robin? 

“I don’t think it counts as them hugging if Superbitty is the one doing all the work and baby chick Robin is just, like, tolerating the situation,” Cissie replies dryly, leaning over to raise an eyebrow at them. Which . . . is very much what is happening here, yeah; Pocket Superboy is hugging Pocket Robin so hard that he’s lifted him right off his feet into the air with him and is also, like–nuzzling him while making a very weird noise that she’s never actually heard a Pocket make before. She’d call it “purring”, maybe, if it sounded less like the world’s smallest tiger was going 1v1 with an equally tiny grizzly bear. 

“What the hell,” Cassie says even more blankly. 

. . . gods, though, they do look really cute. 

Pocket Impulse screeches something unimpressed-sounding in Pocket-talk, then bolts back up into Cassie’s hair and tugs impatiently at it as he screeches some more. Pocket Robin sighs resignedly and Pocket Superboy makes his weird tiger-on-grizzly-cagefight purring noise even louder. Cassie is not actually convinced he’s bothering to breathe? Though she guesses a Pocket doesn’t really need to breathe, so . . . 

“This is so weird,” Cissie mutters under her breath. 

“I want to make myself a ribcage so I can keep them in it forever,” Secret sighs blissfully, clasping her hands together in front of her chest. Some of her smoke–or fog? Cassie is even more unclear on what Secret is actually physically made of than she is on how Cissie and Bart know each other–curls in a little closer to the Pockets. Cassie resists the urge to scoot them away. Then she reexamines the phrase “make myself a ribcage” and the accompanying “forever” and decides she can maybe justify a little bit of scooting. Like. Just a bit. 

“‘Weird’ is not a strong enough word for what this is,” Cassie says, because even if Pocket Superboy wasn’t currently hugging Pocket Robin like his favorite teddy bear, the two of them and Pocket Impulse would all still exist and all still apparently be her Pockets, which is so far past “weird” that she cannot even begin to figure out what to call it. 

Pocket Superboy tiger-grizzily-cagefights louder, grinning brightly up at her. Cassie develops a heart condition, maybe? She thinks maybe she’s developing a heart condition? Or like, maybe a weird magic curse thing that’s released a swarm of red-hot razor-sharp butterflies in her stomach, or something like that? 

How can he be this adorable? He cannot be this adorable, he’s Superboy. Superboy is not even slightly adorable! Like, in no way whatsoever is Superboy adorable! None! He’s super-cute and super-hot, but he’s not–

Then Pocket Superboy flies up to her head with Pocket Robin and dumps him on top of Pocket Impulse with a cackle, and the other two crash into each other and fall onto her pillow with a screech. Pocket Superboy cackles again and immediately throws himself down on Cassie’s head instead and sprawls out in her hair with a gloatingly victorious crow, taking up as much space in it as possible. 

Okay, yeah, he’s Superboy.

[flavourlessfiction]

It's wip Wednesday, and I'm pulling a wip out of the vault this week.

I was talking old wips and a certain agenda related to Tim with @edmundpevensiesqueen earlier in the week, and remembered I have an F1 au wip that I think I started in 202,2 wrote like 1400 words then suddenly stopped.

I'm happy to do a whole lore drop on this AU too because while I never put it on paper I fucking remember all of it especially relating to Tim and Jason's relationships to the sport and their respective accidents. But the thing you need to know right now is Conner and Jason are current drivers on the grid, and Tim isn't in the sport currently, but he's just finished a masters in motorsport engineering and totally not because he's been guaranteed a job from a certain Bruce Wayne

From Conner

If it’s a disaster you can stay at mine rather than paying for a hotel :)

Tim couldn’t hold back his laughter as he shoved his phone into his pocket. He wouldn’t exactly label the offer as generous, considering Conner had been the one to set him up on a blind date in a whole other country than the one he lived in.

It wasn’t like the train ride from Nice to Monte Carlo was a long one; however, even if he ended up getting stood up, there would only be a few trains following the agreed-upon meeting time. He didn’t know why he even agreed to a date in the first place, he could be spending the last few days of the break on the beach or with his family but no, he’d been desperate enough to take up the offer even if Cassie had laughed to his face when the idea had been put forward.

After all, it was something to do and better a funny story from a bad date than listening to his mother’s worries about his future now that he was finished with his graduate program.

The instructions had been fairly clear, 8 pm at the restaurant on the Rue Basse near the Chapel of Mercy, Conner hadn’t given the exact name of the location until 20 minutes later when he identified the bistro, Le Petit Bar as the intended meeting place followed by several crying emojis and the name Todd.

It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the directions but Conner’s secrecy and desire to withhold as much information as possible quickly made it go from funny to aggravating and hinting at any potential disaster outcomes made him want to turn around and get on the first train back to his mother’s before he even reached the destination.

Except getting the third degree on why he bailed on a date before it even started would be worse than the poking and prodding about what happened regardless of the outcome.

The Bistro was hard to miss, the vibrant red awning obvious even in the moonlight, a pair of teen boys sitting on the patio with their family peering through the window and talking animatedly in French about calling a friend to bring a hat to sign.

It wasn’t the first time he’d heard talk like that, hell, any time he’d been around Conner in public in the past two years, someone came up to him asking for a photo, for a small window it happened to him, however, that time had long passed.

It was hard to miss the person responsible for the pair’s chatter once he entered, the lone single person in the bistro, sitting at the booth against the wall, looking completely at ease despite a few heads half turned in his direction.

Tim bit down on his tongue as he stepped over to the table, resisting the urge to send a text to Conner and Cassie letting him know how funny the two of them weren’t, maybe throwing a couple of expletives in there about how infinitely more awkward this was knowing that his ‘blind date’ was Jason Todd.

His steps towards the table were a little stiffer than he would have liked, the sudden tension across his back unnecessarily painful. “Hey, are you Tim?” Jason asked, standing before he even managed to make the three steps towards the table.

“Yeah, sorry, am I late? I was told 8, but you know unreliable friends and all that.” He said, cringing as he extended his hand for Jason to take it.

Real smooth move for a first date, Tim.

Jason took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before gesturing for him to take a seat. “Not if you were told 8, I just got here early.” That was an odd way to put it, possibly meant that Conner got the time wrong for one of them, but even if he was playing fast and loose on the details of the location, he wasn’t one to give the wrong time and tell him not to be late.

There was no reason for him to feel so awkward; this was supposed to just be a warm-up date, get him back out there and comfortable around people he didn’t know. 

Except he did know Jason, not just because they’d been in each other’s orbit since they were kids karting, but because he was one of the top drivers on the planet. Although there was every chance Jason had no idea who he was.

“So are you travelling around Europe or do you live over here, because Monaco is a long way from the States?” He hadn’t missed the probing questions that came with dates, trying to figure out someone’s life story without directly asking.

It wasn’t like he didn’t have a few of those questions in his back pocket, but he didn’t think they’d come out so quickly, although depending on what information Jason had been fed, an American showing up would have been a shock. “I live over here… sort of, my mother lives in France and I’ve been with her since I finished my Master’s, a few months ago,” Tim said softly, tapping the table with his pinky in a slow rhythm. “Do you normally let your competition vet your dates?” Even as the words left his mouth he knew he sounded like a dick, but it was weird that Jason would allow Conner to set him up, during the midseason break or not, they didn’t exactly get along as far as Tim knew.

Even if he did, at least Jason laughed it off. “I mean Dick’s like a big brother first and competition second, so it’s easy to forget that it might seem a bit strange.” He could feel his face shift at the mention of Dick Grayson, so more than one of them had been in on this.

It made Conner’s weird behaviour make more sense, although it only prompted more questions about the sheer number of people who were in on it.

[konnorhasapen]

I finished the Knifecup story.

If you've never seen my Knifecup post, you can find it here

All the characters except for Tank (obviously) are all people I've created! They're the people I headcanonTank met and got along with while up in Washington (and if you wanna know more bc I absolutely have a whole story arc behind them I'm always willing to share-)

I changed a few things from the 'last line' wip so it looked a little better. Enjoy :)

It had all started when Tank discovered a knife on Bonfire Night earlier that week. It wasn't anything special, just a folding Buck 110. Although, the amount of dark splotches and stains on it were a little odd. Several hours of smacking Ian's hands away and a few days of having kept the knife, here they were.

   "Since I know we're all a little apprehensive about trying it on me, I came up with something else," Ian explained, twisting to shrug his backpack from his shoulder and set it on the table.

   "No one was "apprehensive" about using you because we weren't going to use it on you," Manny rolled his eyes, but spun around in his seat to pay attention anyways. Tank snorted at both of them and spoke up as they approached the table as well:

   "I doubt it would've done anything to you long term anyway, considering you've done dumber." They said with a barely suppressed chuckle.

   "What could possibly be dumber than willingly being stabbed by an old, suspiciously stained knife you found buried down by the lake?" The youngest asked with a snarky tone, head lulling to look at the wolf shifter with a smartly quirked brow and matching smirk.

   "Oh, I don't know, try truck bed surfing while Manny was going fifty off roading?" Tank shot back, Dakota and Garrett breaking into a laughing fit when Ian tried to explain himself, only having heard the story from everyone else since they'd driven separately the night before to keep Dakota out of the sun.

   "We hit a divot and next thing we knew, we were missing one." Cassandra recalled.

   "He was fine!" Kevin said, valiantly defending the other host of their collective singular brain cell.

   "Neither of you were!" Tank suddenly howled with laughter, "I seem to clearly remember you screaming "I'm going after him! You guys go on without me!"  While you hoisted yourself over the tailgate, then Manny slammed the brakes and sent your face into a very intimate meeting with the dirt."

   "Yeah yeah, we get it, we're both the token dumb ones—pay attention! I brought a cup." Ian fished a light grey mug from his bag and set it atop the community table with a proud emphasis. The warehouse was silent for a few moments as they all stared.

   "...A cup?" Manny finally asked, his tone voicing everyone's confusion. Ian nodded once.

   "A cup." He stated. He carelessly chucked his bag over his shoulder and both Dakota and Tank snapped their attention towards it when it hit the floor, the sound of something definitely breaking reaching their ears. They looked back at each other with only mild concern before Tank shrugged with a face and lead them back to paying attention to whatever the knuckleheaded Ian Genner was explaining.

   "...ean, I've thrown it off Kevin's roof once or twice and it still hasn't even chipped!" He grinned and shrugged.

   "Ian," Garrett started.

   "Mhm, yeah?"

   "The handle is missing." Cassie finished. Ian went quiet, dramatic facial expressions dancing across his features as he moved his hands all over the place, unable to find a comfortable position before he settled on rubbing at the back of his neck.

   "Very good observation skills, Cassandra, but that's just a very minor, very unimportant detail—" He cut himself off with a sharp breath. "Who's placing bets? I've got money on the cup!" He announced, fishing eighty-three from his pocket and slapping the money on the table.

   "Last time I bet anything, I lost." Tank said plainly.

   "Eh, losing bets isn't the end of the world, Tank!" He replied with a smile. Tank remembered their stupid little "group vacation" out to Florida very vividly.

   "I wound up taking a swan dive off Madeira Beach bridge, just barely seeing on the way down that the ladder to climb back up was missing." They could still remember how that impact felt. Hitting the salt water from thirty feet up felt like concrete, and then they actually sank into it. Having to swim half a mile to the nearest land to get out, all in the middle of the night. It was fun, they still believe that much, but that was the last time they placed a bet without having any way of knowing the absolute outcome.  Not to mention, they weren't going to lose money to Ian of all people.

   Kevin gasped, mentioning with excitement that he still had the video.

   "I'm putting sixty on the knife," Manny pitched in with a sigh, pacing the way for everyone else, excluding Tank, to place their bets, too.

   "Thirty-eight on knife," said Cassie.

   "Knife for me, too." Dakota added, pulling seventy-one dollars from his wallet and adding it to the knife pool.

   "Even forty on knife from me," Garrett said, sliding is along the table towards the rest of the money.

   "Did you text the others?" Manny asked Ian, who nodded again with a dumb grin.

   "Jackie said she's not gonna do it, Brian said 'why the fuck are you always doing shit like this, knock it off before you lose a finger,' aaaand—" his phone chimed, "Scott says he's putting ninety on knife." He flailed his arms with a noise of betrayal, letting them go limp and smack his legs as they fell at his sides.

   "Why is no one else betting on this cup?" He groaned.

   "Because Tank's the one doing the stabbing," Manny answered, Kevin immediately shot straight up.

   "Two hundred on knife!" That had everyone stunned and sputtering.

   "Jesus, Copout, you even got that kind of money?" Cassie asked him, hazel brown eyes wide at his bet. The brunette nodded eagerly, digging his wallet out of his pocket, pulling out cash, and counting two hundred while still having extra to keep on him.

   "I don't like forgetting you're loaded," Manny sighed, Garrett agreeing with him.

   "Okay, so the way we're gonna do this is, if the cup wins, the money goes to Ian since he's the one who brought it. If the knife wins, the money goes to Tank since they found the knife." Dakota explained, everyone nodding along. Tank groaned a little at the thought of winning the bet and having to take all their money. They were the only one who didn't exactly like the idea, but the rest of them knew the money would go to parts and food for the whole group anyways, so they didn't mind in the least.

   Tank didn't like spending any money on themself even when it was their work earnings, they definitely weren't going to spend bet money on anything more than what the group needed or wanted altogether.  It was a little sad and frustrating to know Tank would spend as little on themself as humanly possible, but deep down, everyone knew Dakota would manage to convince them to treat themself a bit.

   "Wait- wait wait wait, just wait a minute!" Ian's frantic begging caught attention and he continued, pointing a finger at his best friend.  "One, I'm hurt that you would bet against me, Kevin. We're supposed to be two peas in a pod!" He exclaimed, narrowing his eyes at the policeman's kid.

   "Now I'm one pea in a pod and you're just piss in a pool," he shook his head disapprovingly for a moment before he got to his second complaint.  "Two, you guys can't gang up on me and let Tank stab the cup!"

   "Why? Afraid your cup's gonna break?" Garrett asked.

   "Yes! IT'S TANK!" Replied Ian, panic clear on his face. The present shifter chuckled a little at that.

   "Welp, too late! Bets are placed, rules are clarified, go stab that cup!" Manny clapped them on the shoulder and they nodded once.

   Tank turned the cup on its side and picked up the stained weapon, blade sliding against their palm as they flipped it around. Their brows pinched a little when they noticed their hand remained uninjured.

   This thing is dull as hell, they thought, wondering just how this was going to play out. Tank shrugged and held the cup in position. They raised the knife and slammed it down towards Ian's unbreakable cup with as much strength as they could.  A few cracks were the only sounds in the warehouse.

   "...Huh," was all Tank said as they pulled their hands away and looked at the image left behind. The knife went through the cup, sure, but it stayed there. Gravity pulled the handle until it hit the table with a quiet 'clunk,' the cup, having no choice but to follow, rolled to show the broken spots where its handle used to be.

   "The... the bet was 'if the cup broke,' wasn't it?" Cassandra asked.

   "Yeah..," Dakota replied in confusion.

   "So," Garrett started, scratching at his stubble. "What does that mean?" He gestured to the knife embedded into the cup. Neither were broken.

   "It means they've become one," Ian replied with a blank expression. "A life-changing invention..!"

   "We present to you," Kevin picked up the "life-changing invention" and held it in the air like a newly discovered ancient relic. "Knifecup." He whispered.

   "Knifecup..." Ian echoed. Minutes of silence fell over the group before Tank finally spoke up:

   "You guys just wanna blow the money at Terry's?" A series of eager agreements all jumbled together and off they went, Kevin bringing the announced "Knifecup" along with him.

   The next day,

Dumb(Kevin):

Guys I dont feel great

Cassie:

Tf did you do?

Dumber(Ian):

He made koolaid

Dako:

Was it bad or something?

Dumb:

No

Dumb:

I drank it out of Knifecup

Father(Brian):

ARE YOU SERIOUS?

Tank:

Who wants to start placing bets on how fast he drops dead?

Father(Brian):

TANK

Manny:

Fifty on tomorrow morning.

[angelasscribbles]

WIP Wednesday 11.17.21

Ready for this? Or is everyone still sad about the finale? Rest assured, I will continue to churn out content for TRR gang for months, if not years, to come!

I am currently working on four chapters from four different series! See the spoilers below the cut.

Complicated Part 17: Bachelorette Party

“Oh, please. That’s what she gets for being friends with that sniveling, simpering piece of common American trash!” Madeleine snorted derisively.

Cassie barked out a short laugh at that, “You might want to be careful who you’re calling trash, Madi. That American is going to end up being your queen and you’ll wish you had treated her better.”

Now it was Madeleine who laughed, “In what universe? We are two weeks away from the wedding! In case you haven’t been paying attention, I’m going to be queen and my first act will be to ban that bitch from my court!”

“You mean Liam’s court.” Cassie’s voice had gone ice cold.

“Same difference.”

“You know, I never pegged you as delusional Madi.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means I can’t believe you still think that Liam’s going to actually marry you. He’s not. He doesn’t love you and he doesn’t need you anymore. He loves Riley and he would move heaven and earth to protect her!”

“I know!” Madeleine giggled, “That’s what I’m counting on.”

Cassie froze, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

My Best Friend’s Girl Part six (as yet untitled)

By that point, we were spending most of our time together anyway. Hell, I spent more time with her than Liam did. A lot more. Not that I was counting. Ok, maybe I was counting a little. It just didn’t make a lot of sense to me. They barely saw each other; how could they be so sure they were in love?

Hinge: Thanksgiving in Valtoria (this is a very small snippet because I’ve already posted two others, in last week’s WIP Wednesday and in the WIP Game ask.)

“I’m sooooo excited that you made it back in time for Thanksgiving dinner!” Riley gushed.

“Wouldn’t miss it, love.” Liam smiled indulgently as he dropped a kiss on her forehead. Three years together and she still made his heart skip a beat when she smiled at him. He would give her anything, making it home for Thanksgiving dinner was a small thing.

Heir Apparent Ch 3 (as yet untitled), here are two snippets from this upcoming chapter:

The Palace

He closed his eyes and envisioned her holding a newborn wrapped in a blanket made from the finest cashmere, embroidered with the royal crest, him by her side, smiling proudly as the cameras flashed, introducing Cordonia to its newest prince or princess.

It would solve all of his problems. Having broken his engagement to Madeleine, he was under enormous pressure to marry, for the purpose of producing an heir. The problem was, he didn’t want to marry. Or more to the point, the only woman he wanted to marry had married someone else. He couldn’t help it that he still loved her.

Valtoria

“Drake! Are you going to tell me what happened?” She had a sinking feeling she already knew.

She had to run to keep up with him, his strides were longer than hers and he was taking the steps two at a time. By the time she made it to their bedroom, he had already emptied his pockets and was headed for the bathroom.

“Drake! What happened?!” She demanded.

“What the hell do you think happened Campbell?” He snarled as he brushed past her and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door in her face and locking it.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for him when he finally emerged from the shower. He walked out, one hand holding the towel around his waist closed, the other combing through his hair. Water droplets still clung to his rock-hard abs and the towel was draped low on his hips, a hint of public hair barely visible. In the moment before he looked up and saw her, his expression was one of distraction, her eyes traced the curve of his cheek, the hard angle of his jaw, the fullness of his lips and her breath caught in her throat.

Then he looked up and caught her eye. She could feel his walls go up as a guarded expression snapped into place and she felt an ache in her heart because she knew it was her fault.

[zacksfairest]

I am torn between "UGH IT'S BAD SCOOB" and "FUCK NU!CAP" and "zaresh?"

WIP Ask Game of No-Shame Support

oh boy these are three entirely different topics. i'll do a snippet of all three tho :)

UGH IT'S BAD SCOOB

context: this was/is supposed to be the answer to my conundrum in which cal kestis from jedi: fallen order would be the only jedi my mando-self would ever consider adopting

Cassie narrowed her eyes, standing up just a bit straighter. “Caed?” “I see it,” he immediately replied, all business once more. “I was watching the south end. Where did he come from?” “Northwest,” she said, still watching the young man. He was absolutely drenched, his dark hair hastily slicked back and away from his pale face. “The alley just off of the third stall from the end of the street.” The newcomer’s eyes finally settled on a vendor and he rushed over toward a table of spices, the dark gray poncho he wore fluttering slightly behind him as he moved. It hardly looked like it was of much use in this storm. Lightning flashed overhead, followed quickly by a rumbling clap of thunder that made everyone jump, including the young man. But something about the way he flinched seemed odd. Not out of place, not concerning, just… different. Cassie narrowed her eyes, watching him, his head hanging low as he examined what was undoubtedly a moldy and useless selection of spices. “Probably nothing,” she finally spoke up, her arms coming up to cross over her chest. Even she was starting to feel the cold through her kute. “Just thought we should mark him.” “Yeah, well,” Caedyc began, his voice grave, “you sure have something heading your way now.” She didn’t even get to ask what he meant, her HUD alerting her to movement at the far end of the street. Flimsy plasteel armor splashed with copious amounts of mud came into view, the aggravated, static filled chatter of Imperial Stormtroopers on the prowl coming into view. “Haar'chak,” she hissed, her body growing tense despite herself. “Is it our patrol?” Caedyc asked. “No,” she ground out, blinking several times in rapid succession to make her helmet scan the Stormtroopers. To confirm what she already knew wasn’t there. “The package isn’t with them.” “Osik!” he snapped, the genuine despair in his voice mirroring her own. It made her heart seize in her chest, the sensation almost painful. They had failed. The Stormtroopers continued to make their way down the street, fanning out to accost anyone and everyone they came across. They began to toss large crates and overturn tables, their blasters drawn and pointed at the merchants who tried to salvage their meager supplies. A single shot pierced the air, followed by a strangled, pain filled scream. Cassie’s head whipped toward the sound, the scent of burnt ozone already seeping through the filters in her helmet. A Gran merchant lay on the ground, one hand pressed to his shoulder, the other outstretched in a silent plea for mercy. Things were going south fast. She had to get out of here. “Caed?” she called into the comms. Her arms fell back down to her sides, her right hand flexing anxiously, itching to grasp at the hilt of her vibrosword. The Gran whimpered pathetically as the Stormtrooper kicked him. “Find me a way out.” “No matter where you move they’ll see you,” he said, clearly agitated. “Your best bet is to stand your ground.” Her hand twitched toward the hilt once more. “Easy for you to say.” “They’re not looking for us.” “Is that for my benefit or for yours?” “They’re not,” he insisted, though that didn’t exactly answer her question.

FUCK NU!CAP

context: this is an 18 page, unfinished monster in which i insert myself and my friend into the scene in FatWS in which bucky is arrested and i was ready to wring the new cap's neck

“Sam.” A familiar voice broke through the din of the waiting area, and Cassie turned her back to Sam as she fished around in her pockets for a spare tissue. Eve immediately stood, to the rescue as always, tossing a wad of old McDonald’s napkins her way. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Dr. Raynor, I’m James’ therapist.” Cassie almost laughed as she wiped at her face, praying she was still able to look presentable and not half-mad with anxiety. It was still so weird hearing Dr. Raynor call him ‘James.’ She knew he was only comfortable with a select few people addressing him by his nickname, but for some reason, in the midst of her teetering self-control in the middle of this Baltimore police department, it hit a note of utter hilarity in her. Thankfully, she was able to reign in the bubble of laughter that sat at the back of her throat. When Cassie turned around, Eve at her back, Sam was shaking the psychiatrist’s hand in greeting. She was tall, nearly matching Sam’s height, with long, russet brown hair and a stern face. She was all business as she met Sam’s gaze. “So nice to meet you,” Sam said, his gratitude clear and genuine. “Thank you for getting him out.” Cassie was about to make her presence known and voice a similar sentiment when Dr. Raynor replied, “That wasn’t me.” A brief but palpable confusion passed between the three of them—and then a man called out from the other side of the room. “Christina!” he said, surrounded by a flurry of cops and civilians alike. Cassie did a double take, and Eve muttered a soft ‘Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.’ There, a mere few feet from where they stood, was John Walker. The new Captain America. He was decked out in his nauseating red and blue uniform, the shield slung across his back, and that infuriating ‘A’ within a silver star logo sitting big and shiny upon the right side of his chest. A weird design choice, if Cassie were being honest. If they wanted to drive home the whole patriot thing, shouldn’t they have placed it on the left side? Over his heart? Clearly they hadn’t consulted the best or brightest designers for this new look. Whatever. She could be petty later. Cassie vaguely heard Sam ask Dr. Raynor how she knew this clown, but she wasn’t really listening. She was too busy glaring at Walker as he approached, her entire body wound tight with nervous tension. He looked like a frat boy as he sauntered forward, days old scruff lining his jaw, his hair a ruffled mess, and a needless air of self-importance and overconfidence exuding from him that rivaled that of a college football quarterback. Not exactly the image you wanted to put forward for America’s golden boy, but what did she know? “I heard you were working with Bucky,” he addressed Dr. Raynor—Christina, he had called her—hardly even glancing in their direction, “so I thought I’d step in.” Cassie bristled at the use of Bucky’s nickname, and heard Eve’s disgusted scoff where she stood at her shoulder, but she did her best to push her newfound annoyance down, down, down into the very pits of her stomach. This was not the time or the place to broach that conversation. First, she had to introduce herself. Unfortunately. “Excuse me—” Cassie stepped forward, a polite smile plastered on her face. She had extended her hand toward him, intent on making this introduction as quick and painless as possible, but he merely threw up his hand, the sudden motion shocking her so thoroughly that she nearly tripped in the effort to stop mid-step. “No autographs right now, sweetheart,” he said, his voice loud and boisterous and grating. “Official Captain America business. Why don’t you hang around outside and my people will try to hook you up.” There was a beat of stunned silence between them, broken only by Eve’s disbelieving laughter. Luckily for all of them, or maybe just dear old John Walker, Dr. Raynor spoke up, obviously hoping to defuse this very precarious situation. “Uh, John,” she said, a hint of forced nonchalance to her voice, “this is Cassandra Theron, James’ long-time girlfriend.” To his credit, Walker had the good sense to look embarrassed for a split second, though not a moment longer. Within the span of a breath, he had recovered and that infuriatingly condescending grin was back in place upon his lips. “Ah! My apologies. I had no idea Bucky had managed to nab a girl for himself. It must’ve been hard for him to navigate the modern day dating pool, huh?” Cassie felt her eyebrow twitch, her smile beginning to falter. Oh, this was going to be far more difficult than it had any right to be. If she left this police station without being charged with the aggravated assault of Captain America, she would consider it a goddamned miracle. “Yeah, well,” she said, an artificially airy quality to her words, “I guess you could say we didn’t really meet under conventional circumstances.” “I’ll bet you didn’t!” he chuckled, as if this was some kind of inside joke. Cassie felt like she was going to faint from the effort to not outright scream. “I’ll have to get the story one day. We’ll make a night of it.” A laugh that sounded fake and awkward even to her own ears scraped its way out of her throat. Over my dead body. “Anyway,” he said, his attention back on Dr. Raynor. “I thought it would be good to let you know that Bucky’s not gonna be following a strict schedule any longer.” Cassie went rigid, she and Eve both flatly, and with no small amount of alarm, blurting out a sharp “What?” “We haven’t finished our work,” Dr. Raynor quickly replied. Cassie could have kissed her. “Who authorized this?” “Um,” Walker intoned, an obnoxious smile curling at his lips as he gestured toward himself. “He’s too valuable an asset to have tied up.” Cassie sputtered out loud, lurching forward before she could stop herself. “An asset? You—!” “Okay!” Sam stepped in, putting up a hand to keep her from launching herself at Walker’s throat. “Thanks for the help, Walker." “Sam, he can’t just—!” Cassie hissed, her head pounding, her anger at Bucky momentarily forgotten as a newly sprouted rage took root in her gut. “Is there a problem here?” Walker asked, but with none of the curiosity of a genuine question. It came out annoyed, as if this was all just the biggest inconvenience. An asset. A fucking asset. The word continued to ring hollow and loud in her skull, like the monstrous tolling of a cathedral bell. She immediately opened her mouth to reply, a vulgarity or two just waiting to leap off her tongue, when Sam spoke up, effectively cutting her off. “Not at all, man,” he said, a breezy laugh accompanying one of his charming smiles. “Just a stressful day. You know how it is.” Cassie tried again, but Sam merely shushed her, silently begging her to just let it go. He’s not worth it, she could practically hear him say. And he was right. She knew this, and yet still she wanted to scream, to yell, to wrap her hands around the neck of that star-spangled bastard as she howled over the injustice of it all. As she wailed and cried over the fact that even now, even after everything, Bucky was still just a weapon to be used, an asset to be unleashed. But she clamped down on her fury, biting at the inside of her cheek until the metallic, coppery tang of blood overtook her senses. He wasn’t worth it, she told herself, repeating it over and over again in her mind until it became fact. He was not worth her ire, not now, especially if the choice was this or Bucky in cuffs. That thought alone caused another rush of searing hot anger to flood her veins, but she merely bit down harder, welcoming the fresh taste of copper on her tongue. “Just do whatever you gotta do with him, then send him off to me,” she distantly heard Walker declare. “Got some unfinished business, him and I. You too, Wilson!” he called as Sam continued to bar her way, the new and improved Captain America turning on his heel to head for the exit. “I’ll be outside!” “I’m going to kill him,” Cassie bit out, her voice hardly that of a growl. “I’m going to fucking kill that flag draped pretender with my bare hands.” “Okay, all right, easy does it,” Sam said, looking toward Eve. “Feel free to step in at any time.” “You’re lucky I didn’t decide to snap his neck, Wilson,” Eve replied simply, continuing to suck on her lollipop. He rolled his eyes. “Thanks a lot, Hex.” From the corner of her eye, Cassie saw Eve wave her fingers coyly. A small smile managed to pull at Cassie’s lips, and she felt her blood begin to cool. At least Eve agreed that this was all bullshit.

zaresh?

context: i wanted to write a piece from zaresh's POV, in the same vein of how the book series You is written from the POV of a crazy serial killer. i really do need to finish this piece

Oh, yes, the wretched harpies of Cicecta would seethe to see how lavishly he now lived. A lowly male drow, in possession of the finest baubles the surface had to offer? It would be enough to make them shriek with rage. And yet that was not his gravest sin, not by far. His greatest offense was still to come, and how he longed for it to come to fruition. A pleasurable shiver shot up Zaresh’s spine as he grinned broadly, his steps a tad lighter, the sting of the sun forgotten. Patience, he cautioned himself as he entered the marketplace. This endeavor was not to be rushed, and he knew that to do so would invite disaster. A gentle, alluring touch was required for this acquisition to be successful, and to make his move even a moment too soon would destroy the life he had created in this bustling city of culture and riches. It had been a long, long time since he had entangled himself in such a high risk scheme, but the reward… He licked his lips as he approached the grandiose fountain in the market’s center, the elaborate carvings etched into the gray marble’s surface clearly from that of the deft hand of a master craftsman. But it was not the elegant stonework of the fountain that caught his eye, but the figure perched upon its lip. With hair the deep red of the finest wine, Vaela Ceyoven stood out like a beacon in the lively crowd. It had been the first thing he had noticed about the young wood elf all those months ago in this very market. Such a fine shade, one rarely seen amongst the wood elves, and so very lush and thick. It begged to be caressed, to be threaded through his fingers as he pulled the locks taught in his grasp… Zaresh shook the thoughts clear from his mind as he smoothed his sharp grin into a pleasant smirk. The time would come when he could take part in such simple pleasures, but first he had to ensure the bait was perfect, the snare set and ready to snap shut on his prize. And what a prize she would be, his sweet Vaela. It was then that she turned slightly, revealing those bright, pine green eyes of hers as she scanned the crowd. She worried at her lower lip, her dark brows furrowed in… concentration? Anxiety? Perhaps anticipation. She was a skittish little thing, he had noticed, and it had taken much coaxing to get to this point.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for lottie behind the cut; “Cassie gets a Pocket (or three)”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Well, that just happened,” Cissie says. “Do you think Pockets know what bowling is?” 

“I think this Pocket does,” Cassie mutters under her breath. 

“Is that how bowling works?” Secret asks curiously, peering after Pocket Robin and Pocket Impulse’s struggling pile. “I didn’t know it was a contact sport.” 

“. . . please never go bowling, Secret,” Cissie says. “Just . . . not ‘til someone both fully corporeal and not either tactile-telekinetic or invulnerable teaches you how to play, alright?” 

“Oh, okay,” Secret says, looking a little disheartened. “Um . . . I don’t really think I can go bowling anyway, though, it’s awfully, um . . . public?” 

“Oh, uh–right,” Cissie says, grimacing a little. Cassie would probably be sparing a moment to feel bad for her or something, but that and Pocket Superboy being an adorable little brat/shameless little troll aside, she’s still too busy having a sleeping-bag anxiety attack down here. Like–several sleeping-bag anxiety attacks all at once, it feels like. 

Gods, she is just not equipped for this. 

Three boys! Three boys over one weekend! Everyone at school is gonna lose it! Her mom is gonna triple lose it! Her mom is gonna triple lose it and never let her come back to the cave and never let her actually join Young Justice and never even let her leave the freaking house ever the frick again! She’s gonna turn off her powers and lock her in the basement until she’s thirty! Gods, she’s never gonna get to go outside again. 

Then again, never getting to go outside again would at least mean she wouldn’t have to go face everybody at school with three boys for Pockets. 

This is like a bad anime. Worse, a bad reverse-harem anime. 

Gods, is this what she gets for binging Ouran High School Host Club and Fruits Basket so many times? Is this what she gets for just ever watching Fushigi Yuugi? 

Gods, she should’ve learned from Fushigi Yuugi. 

At least Tohru and Miaka only had to get one or two Pockets at a time! Definitely neither of them ever got three at once! Even Haruhi didn’t get hers all at once, and she met literally every single one of her soulmates in the first episode! She didn’t even get Tamaki’s Pocket until the literal last episode! 

“. . . Cassie. Honey. You do have to come out of the sleeping bag eventually, you know,” Cissie says. 

“No I don’t,” Cassie mutters into said sleeping bag. “‘Out of the sleeping bag’ is where my school and my mom and my entire trilogy of soulmates all are.” 

Pocket Superboy makes a weird noise that sounds like somebody dropped a xylophone and starts tugging at her hair. Cassie buries a groan into her pillow. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure said trilogy wants that,” Cissie says frankly, and Cassie groans louder. 

“I don’t get it! How did I get three Pockets on the same night?!” she exclaims. “And they’re all weird ones, too! Like, Superboy is way too cool and badass for his Pocket to be such a little weirdo! Superboy is like the coolest guy I’ve ever even seen, much less actually met in actual real life! I didn’t swap out my old jean vest for a leather jacket, like, spontaneously; I did it because I thought his looked so cool! So how is his Pocket version, like, literally pulling my pigtails right now! How is that an actual for-real thing that is actually for-real happening to me right now?! And there’s a Robin and an Impulse too?! Robin and Impulse don’t even make sense!” 

This is absolutely anime’s fault. Just–somehow this is anime’s fault. 

Pocket Superboy lets go of her hair and makes that weird dropped-xylophone noise again and then takes off into the air again, she thinks. Cissie just sighs, sounding stressed. 

“I think you hurt his feelings,” Secret says with an audible frown in her voice, and Cassie grimaces and half-pushes herself up in her sleeping bag–like, at least gets her elbows underneath herself and her face out of her pillow, anyway. Her Pocket Robin–the Pocket Robin and Pocket Impulse are both standing beside her pillow and peering towards the far corner of the tent, where she can just barely see Pocket Superboy crouched down on the floor with his arms wrapped around his knees and shoulders hunched up to his ears, back turned to the rest of the tent. He looks like he’s hiding in his jacket. 

Cassie doesn’t get it. He’s Superboy. Why’s he acting like–that? 

She doesn’t understand how any of them are acting, though, because they’re all acting like they’re hers, and that’s–how can all three of them actually be hers? What’s she even supposed to do, if all three of them really are hers? 

They all seem pretty convinced they are. 

“I mean, it is Superboy, you’re assuming he has feelings,” Cissie says under her breath. “Aside from ‘in denial’ and ‘horny’, anyway.” 

“I thought everyone had feelings,” Secret says, looking puzzled again. “Is that a clone thing or a Kryptonian thing? Did the scientists make him without them on purpose?” 

“. . . no, Secret, that’s not–” Cissie cuts herself off with another sigh, rubbing her temples. “Superboy has feelings, okay, I was just, like–making a joke.” 

“I thought jokes were supposed to be funny,” Secret says, looking even more puzzled. 

“. . . just don’t worry about it, okay?” 

“Um . . . alright?” 

Cassie keeps looking at Pocket Superboy all curled up in the corner and feels like such a jerk. Like the worst kind of jerk, because Pocket Superboy looks really upset, but also Pocket Robin and Pocket Impulse are still here making zero sense and she just–she doesn’t know what to do, and she doesn’t wanna upset any of the little guys, especially not Pocket Superboy, but they don’t understand what a problem this is gonna be for her! Which–they’re boys, and the actual Superboy and Robin and Impulse only have one Pocket they’re gonna have to explain to people, and between all three of them their biggest problem is probably just gonna be, like, Batman being annoyed over Robin getting a soulmate when it might compromise his secret identity or whatever, and it’s just–it’s different, for boys. So different. 

Just . . . if Superboy’d woken up to Pockets of her and Cissie and Secret all clambering all over him in the boys’ tent this morning, it wouldn’t’ve been a problem for him. Not even a little bit would that’ve been a problem for him. 

Actually, he’d probably have been into it, Cassie admits to herself grudgingly. Like . . . probably really into it, in fact. 

Way more into it than he’s gonna be when he wakes up to just a Pocket Wonder Girl on his pillow, for sure. 

Cassie really hates knowing that Superboy is gonna be disappointed to have her for a soulmate, especially when Cissie’s right there. But, well–why wouldn’t he be? She’s not cool enough for him, not cute or hot or pretty, not any good at looking good like Cissie is–like even Secret is. She’s weird and awkward and her costume’s just scavenged bargain-basement spandex and goggles and kneepads and her jacket’s not even real leather, it’s pleather, and she makes the dumb T-shirts herself, and she takes up too much space and never knows when to shut up but also can never get the guts up to say half of what she’s actually thinking and is always running in half-cocked and messing up and she’s not as smart or strategic as Cissie either, and definitely not as cute and sweet as Secret, and like–Cissie and Secret are both the kinds of girls a guy would wanna take care of and watch out for, and she’s the kind of girl who doesn’t even get friendzoned because she’s too weird and mouthy and temperamental to even make friends with. And on top of all that, he’s gonna immediately find out he’s gotta share her with with two other guys, at least one of who he doesn’t even like all that much and is already jealous of. 

Superboy is definitely gonna be disappointed by waking up to her, yeah. 

He might already be disappointed, even. The boys might’ve already woken up and be being, she doesn’t know, boys about finding out that the three of them together are stuck splitting one soulmate between them. 

Definitely Superboy is gonna hate that, yeah. And Robin and Impulse probably won’t be all that thrilled either, considering. 

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for lottie behind the cut; "Cassie gets a Pocket (or three)". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Just–three boys! Three! How is she supposed to be the one soulmate to three boys?! How is she supposed to do that?! How is she even supposed to date three boys, Superboy and Robin already can’t get along and Bart’s so impatient and gets bored so easy and she doesn’t even actually know any of them all that well either, like–and Superboy’s dated lots of girls already and Bart’s just weird and Robin is actually weirder than Bart and she just doesn’t–! 

“Cassie,” Cissie says. “Like, I get being kind of overwhelmed right now, but you do need to keep breathing right now.” 

“There’s three of them!” Cassie blurts in panic, clapping her hands to either side of her face and staring down at Pocket Robin in maybe just, like–just a little bit of horror, maybe. “How am I supposed to have three of them? How do I, even, why aren’t they yours, Cissie?! At least why aren’t they split up between the three of us?!” 

“They’re so cute,” Secret coos again, floating down to peer in closer at Robin. “Hi, little Robin! It’s nice to meet you!” 

“Most Pockets don’t really pay that much attention to people who they don’t belong to, Secret. Like, that’s just not how they work,” Cissie says. Secret makes a disappointed noise and pouts a little. Pocket Robin glances towards her briefly, inclines his head once in her direction–Secret makes a delighted noise–and then collapses his bo and puts it away before immediately parkouring his way up to Cassie’s shoulder. She does not feel any less freaked-out about this. 

“He’s adorable,” Secret says. 

“That is also just kinda how they work,” Cissie says. “I mean, not everybody thinks they’re adorable, but they’re generally considered pretty adorable. They’re like, tiny and only ever speak a few words of human languages at best, and they’re like . . . more emotionally honest than the people they came from, usually?” 

“Superboy and Impulse’s emotional honesty is in Cassie’s hair?” Secret asks, floating up a little bit again and peering at them too. 

“. . . no idea, Secret,” Cissie sighs, half-covering her face with a hand. “Maybe, who knows.” 

Cassie still doesn’t feel any better about this. 

“I can’t go to school with three Pockets on Monday,” she says. “Especially when at least one of them came from a guy who doesn’t want me to know what his face looks like!” 

“Sunglasses, you think?” Cissie suggests, frowning consideringly. “He could probably do sunglasses, maybe restyle his hair a little.” 

“It’s three boys, Cissie!” Cassie wails, yanking at her hair. 

“Three boys who might hear you if you don’t keep your voice down,” Cissie reminds her pointedly, and Cassie snaps her teeth shut. She didn’t mean–she doesn’t mean–

But maybe she kind of does, because it is three BOYS. Her mom is gonna lose her mind and everyone at school is gonna talk and–and assume stuff, and–and how are all three of them her soulmate?! Her! Of everyone in this tent! Like–at least the three of them saved Secret from the DEO that one time, it’d make sense if she was their soulmate, and Cissie’s so pretty and Superboy’s clearly into her even though he hasn’t even noticed Cassie is alive, and she already knew Bart, and she doesn’t have superpowers or anything, she’s just smart and well-trained like Robin, so like–so Cissie would make sense, and Secret would make sense, but how does she make sense?! 

She doesn’t make sense, and everyone is going to be awful about it, and she’s going to have three boys to worry about keeping, like–happy or whatever and–how is she even supposed to do that?!

[suzukiblu]

pockets pockets pockets pockets please please please

“Shit,” she says, more reflex than anything, and immediately feels like a jerk for it. The Bart in her hair squeaks excitedly and starts high-speed chattering again, and the Superboy makes a grumbly little huffing noise. The Robin doesn’t look offended, at least, but she still feels like a jerk. He’s just–three. That’s three. And Robin is actually not that much less weird than Bart is, actually! And also, Robin comes with a Batman attached! Batman is a thing, with Robin! He is very, very much a thing! 

And she has to go to school on Monday with three boys as her brand-new Pockets! Three boys! Over one weekend! 

Cassie thinks she needs to lay back down, maybe. Just . . . retreat into her sleeping bag for a few years; deal with this when she’s eighteen and old enough to move out and get her GED and never go back to high school again. That idea just sounds pretty good right now.

[suzukiblu]

Cassie gets a pocket!!

The Pocket Robin waiting patiently to be noticed in it is somehow so light on his feet that she didn’t even feel his slight weight on her thigh, and he’s just standing there with his body mostly concealed by the long fall of his cape, his bo just visible through the part in the front of it and his masked little face looking up at her with a familiarly assessing expression on it–her, and only her. 

It’s the same way she’s seen the full-sized Robin look at the plan, or the lead, or the target: that same razor-fine, razor-sharp, razorblade focus that he’s so far been reserving for the most important thing in the room and nothing else. 

Cassie doesn’t feel like she’s even the third most important thing in this tent, so that’s . . . that sure is a way to get looked at, isn’t it. 

Especially it’s a way to get looked at by a Bat.

[suzukiblu]

im already very excited for Cassie gets a Pocket (or three), so some more of that, pls!! ^^

“Uhhhhh,” Cassie says. Cissie frowns curiously, leaning forward and poking at the Pocket Bart as Secret peers in at him too. He chirps up at both of them, then zips around to Cassie’s other shoulder and up into her hair, babbling away in Pocket-talk. The Pocket Superboy floats up after him and they both settle right down in her messy bedhead, jockeying for space until they settle on Bart burying himself face-first in it and Superboy just lounging casually across his back. 

Cassie has absolutely no idea what’s happening here. 

“They’re not both mine, are they?” she asks incredulously. “They can’t be, right?” 

“Well, they’re not in Secret’s hair,” Cissie says dryly.

[suzukiblu]

New wip just dropped? *Surprised pikachu face*

Could I have some Cassie gets a pocket or three on this fine Wednesday afternoon?

Secret points down at Cassie’s pillow. They both look down at it, and Cassie stares down blankly at the tiny Bart who’s standing in the middle of it in his costume the same as the tiny Superboy’s in his own, waving both his arms in the air over his head and looking impatient. He screeches something in Pocket-talk, waving his hands faster and hopping up and down in place, and the Superboy Pocket lets out a little cackle and swoops down to scoop him up and deposit him on . . . Cassie’s . . . other shoulder? 

Uh. 

What?

[suzukiblu]

Pockets, pockets, pockets! Cassie gets a pocket, please

“. . . oh god, my mom’s never gonna let me come back to the cave,” she realizes a second later with a pained groan, covering her face with her hands. “Especially not overnight again!” 

“Why?” Secret asks, looking puzzled. “Are, um, ‘Pockets’ a bad thing?” 

“No, Cassie’s mom is just kinda uptight and it’s two teenage boys, one of who everyone knows has zero patience and even less impulse control and the other who everyone knows is a horndog teen idol who has literally never dated anyone under the age of twenty, as far as I know,” Cissie snorts, then–pauses, and frowns to herself. “Actually, has Superboy seriously never dated anyone under twenty?”

[suzukiblu]

Can we get Cassie some pockets please?

“Huh,” Cissie says, still staring down at Cassie’s lap. “Uh . . . Cassie?” 

“He’s got a little cape and staff!” Secret coos, clasping her hands together delightedly. She’s looking down at Cassie’s lap too. Cassie . . . Cassie thinks maybe she just . . . won’t, personally. Like. Just–she won’t. Not right now, anyway. 

Actually, maybe just never. Maybe just . . . literally never, ever, ever.

[suzukiblu]

Cassie gets a Pocket please!!!!

“Uh–” Cissie starts, grimacing a little, and then Secret lights up excitedly and blurts: “Robin!” Cassie immediately whips her head towards the front of the tent and instinctively grabs for her pillow like some idiot reflex of hers actually thinks she can hide the pair of Pockets literally sitting on her head with it, already mortified and trying to come up with a not-embarrassing explanation for this, but Robin’s–not there? 

. . . okay, so is she frickin’ blind, or did Secret just think of something, or . . . ? 

Behind her, Secret coos like she’s looking at something absolutely adorable, and next to her, Cissie slowly turns her own head away from the tent entrance and stares at . . .

[suzukiblu]

“Cassie gets a Pocket (or three)” is so good!! I’m loving it so far!!

Cissie’s frown deepens. Secret tilts her head again. Cassie just feels–she just feels embarrassed. How the heck is she supposed to go back to school on Monday with two Pockets? Everybody’s gonna laugh at her! She’s not–she isn’t even cute, much less pretty or pretty enough for two boys to–to actually–! 

Literally no one in her entire grade has two Pockets. Only like nine or ten of them even have a Pocket at all–and that’s already a lot, for high school! When she shows up with two of them, especially after not having either of them on Friday, and especially when one of them looks the way Superboy looks– 

She literally does not even know how anybody’s going to react to that, but they’re definitely gonna.

[suzukiblu]

WIP Wednesday req for @breakingthespacetimewall; "Cassie gets a Pocket (or three)".

“What happened?!” Cissie demands, looking half-asleep but already rolled into a crouch with an arrow nocked. Her hair is perfect, somehow. Cassie actually doesn’t even know how she does that. 

“I–I–!” she squeaks helplessly, and the Superboy Pocket leans past her head and peers over at Cissie with a curious little croon, and Cissie stares at him in bewilderment. Cassie has the sudden awful thought that they’re all sleeping basically on top of each other, and maybe he’s not her Pocket, maybe he’s Cissie’s Pocket, and– 

“Oh!” Secret says, leaning down out of the hovering cloud over all their heads that she slept as to peer down at him, looking fascinated. “Superboy! Why are you so small?”