because its monday here

have you ever set off fireworks indoors?
fireworks inside—that’s what loving you is like.

it’s bright. searing. incandescent. it’s energy exploding out and spilling over, raw reaction too much for the chassis that tries to hold it in.

it’s going to send somebody to the hospital.

—  e.k.t., from in case of emergency, break down
Castle Fanfic: echoed on your skin 1/1

echoed on your skin

A Caskett AU for Castle Fanfic Monday

Based on the prompt:  Soulmate au where when you write something on your skin with pen/marker/whatever the hell you want, it will show up on your soul mates skin as well.

He’s eight years old the first time his Soul Marker shows up.

It happens on a Saturday in the middle of November and, at first, all he notices is that it is cold in his bedroom. The wind rattles the world outside, seeping through the gaps along the windows and under the doors to bring the chill inside. His mother does what she can for them, more than enough, but she can’t help that their apartment is drafty. So he doesn’t complain, he doesn’t whine in the early morning air, he just draws his blankets closer to his ears.

The dark smudge on his palm catches his attention then.

It isn’t large, definitely nothing impressive, just a smear of black on his hand. Like he had been playing in the dirt in the middle of the night. When he shows his mother later that morning, she just smiles and presses a wet kiss to his forehead.

Not content with that answer, Richard Rodgers swipes the affection from his skin and demands to know more.

Ever indulgent, Martha takes his hands, tickling the mark on his palm until he giggles.

“When babies are born, their handprints and footprints are taken. Congratulations, kiddo, your Soul Match has arrived in the world.”

He’s appalled; his Soul Match is a baby? There is no way.

For a moment, he considers the possibility that his mother is pulling his leg, playing a trick on him to get back at him for using her favorite bubble bath as dish soap, but there is only gentle humor in her eyes. Only relief.

Relief that he has a match.

Not everyone does, he knows. His mother doesn’t. There are times when she comes home from work and he swears he can see his own doodles on her skin, covered by layers of stage makeup, but it’s the bond of a parent to her child, not a true Soul Match.

He can’t help but wonder why he has one and she doesn’t.

The next Monday after school, he goes to the library and gathers as many books about Soul Matching as his thin arms will hold. He reads as many as he can before his mother comes to pick him up, checking out the rest and shoving them into his backpack. In the end, the entire idea makes a bit more sense. It’s something precious, something special, like being a superhero. Which doesn’t sound so bad really.

But still, a baby? He can’t be matched with a baby.

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“Why you got me up in here?” I asked

“Because come Monday its going to be Autumn and I need new clothes; plus I need an outfit for the cookout later” Cyn said

“But what does that have to do with me?” I asked

“I need someone’s opinion and you’re the lucky contender” she said with a grin “Now just sit there and give your honest opinion when I come out” she said disappearing into the dressing room

I don’t know why I continue to let Cyn drag me all over the place. The last thing I want to be doing giving my input on her outfits.

I looked down at my phone and scrolled through the recent messages that I’ve received not bothering to reply to any of them

“Look” I looked up, my eyes scanning of the black and white dress that she’d changed into and shook my head “Nah” I said

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i would be here for 80s cartoon style morals at the end of every episode if they contained solid advice like “don’t murder people”

Blake Week: Day One
Favourite episode: Bully