#a couple frames of animation my brain is like ah yes a reaction that is ticklish

[thebest-medicine]

ahem…. this scene in across the spiderverse…

I saw that lil flinch there morales!!!

[zedif-y]

Have you ever written anything with both Skizz and Gem in it? (For the ask game, a friendship ship ask?)

I have! However, it's for a multichap i'm sadly not picking back up again :[ if anyone's interested in it, i may post more, but know that the chances of it being revived are slim to none . i wrote this with @casuallywritingandhyperfixating with the help of @wisepuma23 :]

so yeah! if enough people ask for it then i think i can post the chapters we've written (5... or 4 and a half) so it doesn't go to waste, just not on ao3. anyway, gem and skizz scene under the cut!

---

Once Skizz gets properly dressed and ready to socialize, he heads out and makes his way to Gem’s place. It’s a cute cottage, luckily not too far from them, with a small stable next to it. Tall, light-speckled trees hang over it, creeping vines going up the side of the house. Overgrown berry bushes frame the outside, just the right amount of wild— but Skizz is pretty sure all the greenery is a style choice. 

The berry bushes are smart, though, good at keeping mobs away. Brains and brawn, indeed.

Skizz steps up to the door, anxiety swirling in his stomach. Gem was going to indirectly make this decision for him, and he didn’t know if he hoped for a no or a yes. 

He knocks. Barking comes from inside in response, then footsteps. 

The door opens, and Skizz waves, “Hey, Gem!” Her eyes go wide, a giggle on her lips as he opens his arms for a hug, “How are ya?”

She accepts it easily, giving him a squeeze. “Hey, Skizz!” She chirps, “I’ve been doing good, how–” More barking cuts her off, and she looks over her shoulder into the house, “Hush, Winnie, it’s just Skizz!” 

The dog barks a couple more times, then stops. Gem turns back to Skizz, grinning sheepishly, “Sorry about that.” 

Skizz shakes his head, “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m sorry to bother you on the weekend.” 

Gem steps back, waving a hand as she replies, “It’s alright! How can I help you?” She holds the door open, “Come in! We can talk inside.” 

Skizz follows her in, taking a seat on one of her couches. The living room is a cozy, warm space, beautifully decorated… Though maybe he could make do without some of the animal heads.

(Gem’s awesome, really. Gem is great. Just uh… What’s her deal with beheading things?)

Skizz tears his eyes away. Above the fireplace sits a large, heavy-looking iron sword. He doesn’t need magic to tell it’s enchanted– it shimmers as he looks at it, thrumming with power.

She sits on the other, looking at him expectantly. Ah, right.

Here goes nothing.

“I received a letter,” Skizz says cautiously, “And I might need to go somewhere. I haven’t decided yet, though. It’s a week or two just to get there, and I don’t know how long I’ll stay.” He pauses, gauging her reaction. “And if I do go, I need someone to take care of the village.” 

“And I’m the candidate to fill that role?” Gem guesses. 

Skizz nods. “You’re… the only other skilled healer, even if it’s only been a few months. I was wondering if you’d be willing to take my place for a bit, dude.” 

A few moments pass, each second making his anxiety ratchet up like crazy–

“Okay,” Gem says, making him blink. “Yeah, yeah, I think I could do that,” She adds. “I mean, I know how to do all the day-to-day stuff, and you’ve taught me well.” 

“Are you sure?” Skizz asks, honestly a little baffled. He’d thought it’d take a bit more than that— “It’ll be a lot more work, and if anyone calls on you for an emergency, you have to be prepared.” 

Gem is nodding before he finishes. “I know, Skizz,” She replies, smiling. Gods bless her, “I got this! I’ve… kinda been wanting a chance to really test myself, you know? Not that I want anything to happen, just… I’m here if you need me to step up.” 

Skizz chuckles. “Alright! Well, this is that chance, for sure. If you do come across anything you don’t understand, especially magic-wise, feel free to drop by and borrow some of my books. Joker will still be home, he can point you to the ones you need. You can use my office too!” He pauses, then, “Uh… don’t worry about the paperwork. I’ll get to that someday. Oh, and—” 

“Skizz!” Gem laughs, putting a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. I can do this.” 

Skizz relaxes, laughing with her. “Thanks, Gem. This helps a lot.” 

“Of course! I’ll make sure everyone here is nice and healthy, don’t worry,” Gem assures him. 

Skizz smiles. She’ll make a perfect cleric. 

“Okay! Yeah, I think I’m good!” Gem tells him, “I’ll go over the supplies this afternoon, so you don’t need to worry about that, either.” Skizz nods and stands, stepping towards the door.

Gem follows, waving him goodbye as she says, “Be safe out there, Skizz. And enjoy your trip!” 

“Seriously dude, thanks,” Skizz says, giving her a smile as she closes the door. His heart clenches as he walks away. 

Enjoy your trip. 

He’d try, there was bound to be a lot of new scenery, with that long of a travel. But… Something tells him it’s not gonna be all butterflies and roses. 

Something twists and writhes in his chest, anxiety bubbling in his veins. Skizz steels himself, letting out a breath.

“Of course it’s not gonna be easy,” Skizz mutters to himself, rolling his shoulders, shaking his head. “But you know what? You know what?”

He furrows his brow, “I can take it. Whatever happens, I can take it.”

I mean, come on, Skizz thinks, eyes trained forward. It’s not like I’ve lived this long and learned nothin’!

And then, quieter, it would’ve haunted me anyway, if I didn’t go. The last thing I need is another regret.

The anxiety doesn’t fade, not by a long shot. But as Skizz trudges back home, he finds it isn’t enough to stop him, worries and what-ifs be damned. A small smile tugs at his lips.

He’s always been pretty stubborn, huh?

[make-it-mavis]

Homesick (Entry #31)

(cw: drugs, themes of death/overdose) ----------

01/19/88   1:34 PM

Hey.

So. I know it’s been a little while.

Writing the last entry was just… a lot. It gave me more to think about than I anticipated. I’m… still kind of sorting out those thoughts. But ‘writing to you’ has become such an outlet now that I was starting to get antsy by putting it off. 

So the story continues.

Terror came over me when the darkness fell. At least for a little while. You can hardly blame me, though, given what I’d just seen. Your face was broken, and then we blew up, and then you were gone, and I was lost in nothingness. It was just a punch in the face with a fist made of horrible, terrible things.

But luckily enough, awareness soon returned to me, and I remembered that I was high, and none of it was real. And I was just high enough, thankfully, that I could not quite process the gravity of what I'd seen in the memory yet. That would come. But for the time being, I was blissfully unaware. I was almost peaceful, under the impression that all there was left to do was ride out the last of the numbness. I felt myself lie down against some kind of surface in the darkness, and for some time, I seemed to hover just above sleep. 

Then I started to see things.

Against the black, I saw buzzing lines of binary start to glaze the ghostly contours of a group of figures a short distance away. Then, as if the world were loading, the shapes took on vague, pixely color. The darkness cut out as the environment formed, looking like no more than a smeared painting. It was then that I noticed one figure had no binary at all, but just crackled a bright, humming blue that solidified into… Surge.

That flipped a switch in my brain that set the image straight. I was in a game's cord station, presumably lying down on one of the couches. Surge was there, and he was talking to Fix-it, who was very animated and distressed in whatever he was saying. Believe it or not, he had a few Nicelanders with him -- I think Mary was there, but I'm not sure about the others. I was too distracted by Wreck-it standing apprehensively behind the group, anxiously staring at me.

That's when the audio 'loaded', although a bit distorted, and I heard Surge speaking.

"--incredibly lucky no one was in that bathroom. If things went differently, there could've been loss of life, potentially loss of game. I can't risk a repeat incident where we're not so lucky."

"Yes," Fix-it insisted desperately, "yes, I know, but this isn't her, this was never her. Please, try to understand, it's not her, it's the buffs. It's all been the buffs. She didn't mean it. She didn't even know. I've seen it. She's not even aware of what she's doing. She's not malicious. She's scared, and she's in pain."

"Yes, Felix, but even so--"

"Root Beer Tapper means so much to her, you know that. She would never knowingly hurt that game. Never. She's going to be so horrified when she hears what happened."

I had no idea what they were talking about, but the more they went on, the more I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. It sounded like I'd blacked out and done something horrible. I wanted to be mad at Fix-it for making me sound so pathetic, but deep down, part of me knew he was right.

I was sort of scared to know just what I'd done… especially if it had been in Tapper's. But I could not lie there listening anymore. 

"Hey," I called, my voice raspy, "I'm awake. You can quit talkin' about me like I'm not here."

They didn't respond. Not even a little bit. They just kept talking.

"I know," Surge said, tiredly lifting a hand in an attempt to calm Fix-it. "But that just makes it all the worse. If she's out of  control, attacking games that she supposedly loves, then she's totally unpredictable. I can't very well call myself a protector of this place if I let someone like that run around free."

"But you can't lock her up!" Fix-it nearly shouted, his voice breaking. "You don't understand -- she needs freedom! If you cage her up, you'll break her! You’ll kill her!"

"And if she goes free, she could kill someone else!"

My heart nearly stopped. Surge was going to lock me up in my game for good. That would be it for me. Fix-it was right -- it would be a death sentence. Even if I couldn't actually die in my game, I'd die a different way. It would be worse than dying. Worse than corrupting.

"Hey," I called again, "hey, hold up just a minute! Don't I get any say in this?"

No one noticed me.

"But she's not dangerous!" Fix-it insisted. "She's not! She has an addiction! She's sick! She needs help, not punishment!"

“Then what would you suggest we do?” Surge sighed, almost sounding irritated.

“Well--” Fix-it stammered, “I-- I… think…”

“Hey!” I shouted, but no one reacted. I tried to get up, but I felt paralyzed, like a weight was pinning me down against the couch. Just as I started to panic, the scene around me froze, and with a blue flash, it cut into darkness like a screen turning off. I felt static crackling over the surface of my body. All was dark, deathly quiet, and freezing cold, save for my heart burning and pounding. 

But after a few minutes, just like that, the cord station appeared around me again. Only, this time, there was only Fix-it. He had dragged one of the other couches over to sit directly across from me. He looked absolutely exhausted and miserable, hugging himself as he watched me. 

I figured that I must have lost time again. How much time, I had no way of knowing.

“Fix-it,” I said uncertainly. “Fix-it, what’s happening? Am I gonna be locked up?”

He did not respond. He just continued staring, looking too depressed to keep his eyes open. He must have been there a while.

“What did I do?” I asked. “Did I hurt anybody? Is Tapper okay?”

No reaction.

“Can you even hear me?”

No reaction.

My stomach twisted a bit. I may not have been locked up yet, but I was trapped anyway, in my own body. I knew it was the GC screwing with me. But still, I didn’t know what was happening to me. I wasn’t in pain. I wasn’t hallucinating, as far as I could tell. I was just… stuck.

I blacked out a few more times, just short, minute-long windows between reality and darkness. In each moment of consciousness, I saw Fix-it in a different position on the couch across from me. He was usually watching me. Sometimes, he was asleep. A couple times, he was reading. In a longer stretch of consciousness, Mary actually appeared from the cord train with a mug of coffee for the barely-awake Good Guy. He startled, but smiled and took it anyway. It must have been just about time for the arcade to open, and still, he was there, watching me. Even Mary took pause to look, her eyes moving up and down my body. There was even a sort of dreariness in her gaze. 

Reality cut out again. For a little while this time. But when it formed again, I nearly yelled.

It was Tapper. He left his game to come see me -- the man barely leaves his game. Not to mention, I had apparently done something awful in his bar. But he stood there next to the other couch, those huge blue eyes drooping in… what I read as disappointment, for the most part. But there was still a heavy sadness in there, and worry, if the mug in his hands had any indication. He was cleaning a mug that was already clean, which I’m pretty sure is an anxious habit for him. I wished I could have told him I was gonna be fine, but at that point, even I was starting to get nervous.

Even weirder than Tapper’s presence was the guy behind him. Mario. Yeah. Now that I’m fully conscious, it makes more sense that he was there. The guy always wants to know what’s going on, all the time. You’d think he wanted to be a Surge Protector. 

Besides that, I guess we’d played around together enough for him to have an interest in my, uh, ultimate well-being. He's a pretty fun guy, even with his heroic heart. He's surprisingly agile and acrobatic for his stocky frame, I'll give him that. But we’ve never been friends. I hadn’t seen him since he sat for the portrait I drew of him. I guess it was technically nice of him to visit, but if he had really cared all that much, he could have tried to help me at any point through my spiral. But, no, it seemed he only cared just enough to feel an obligation to visit me while I was deathly ill. Bastard.

Anyway, he was watching me with his moustache pulled into a frown, and his eyes seemed to say that it was all an awful shame. 

“Take your pity and get outta here,” I told him, even though I knew he couldn’t hear.

It was then that Tapper took a couple steps towards me, but Mario touched his shoulder and pulled him back a bit. He gestured to the floor, and I noticed that a line had been drawn in a semi-circle a little ways out from me. 

“Code-bleeding hazard,” Mario told him in that distinct accent of his. “Could kill both of you.”

“Ah,” Tapper sighed, frustrated in the saddest way. He paused for a moment, looking at me with contemplative, pained eyes, and then he looked at the mug in his hands. Carefully, he placed it on the floor just outside of the hazard line, and with a gentle nudge of his foot, he sent it sliding over to me.

It was a really nice gesture. But I didn’t want it. It freaked me out. It made me realize he thought he was never gonna see me again, but that couldn’t be true. I couldn’t let it. Nothing can kill me.

Still, Tapper started to turn away, shaking his head sadly and touching his forehead. Mario pat him on the back as he turned to leave as well, but he paused for a moment while Tapper carried on. He gave me one last, long look, before reaching up into his hat and pulling out one golden coin that audibly shimmered, the way they do. He tossed it over, and it landed right in the mug like a carnival game.

I didn’t want that either. But that was just out of spite.

I lost time again.

When I came to, I saw nobody. The arcade must have been open. What I did see on the ground next to me was that others seemed to have had the same idea as Tapper and Mario. Someone had been bringing me gifts (more than likely just Fix-it). My guitar was there. There were knick-knacks, the sort that I’d been notorious for stealing. It all just freaked me out more. But the worst was the flowers, as if they had been laid on my grave. They were already beginning to wilt, making me wonder just how long I had really been lying there.

I lost time.

I would have jumped if I could have moved my body at all. When I regained consciousness, Surge was standing close to me, within the hazard zone. But I guess it would have been perfectly safe for him, since he has no code.

He was gingerly stepping over the gifts, gently pushing them back with his foot as he walked around me. It took me a moment to see what he was doing, and when I did, I still didn’t fully understand it. He had some kind of device in his hand with a few metal prongs, and at first I thought he was gonna mercy kill me with a taser. But all he did was slowly walk back and forth, pointing this thing over the length of my body. It beeped and clicked erratically, which was not a good thing, apparently. When he was done, he stopped and looked closer at the device, and shook his head with a tired sigh.

I know now that it was a code stability reader. I was not lookin’ pretty.

I lost time again.

This time, when I came to, I groaned out loud. Well. ‘Out loud.’

For some Dev-damned reason, Gene was there. And only Gene. He sat on the couch opposite from me, still, somehow, holding a martini and swirling it idly. There was almost a solemnity to his face, but for the most part, he just looked disapproving. As ever. I figured that he just came to frown at me, and I was kind of right. He certainly didn’t bring me a gift, which is kind of a shame, because I would have loved to mash it into his face after I recovered.

“Get outta here, Cashmere,” I said. “Go watch someone you like die.”

It took a few minutes for him to say anything. When he did, he humphed in that snooty way.

“Well, well,” he said, his nasally voice low for once. “Who could have predicted this?”

“Go clip yourself,” I grumbled, wanting nothing more than to go for his throat.

He continued, “You’ve only yourself to blame for this, you know. Fraternizing with that barbaric racer…” he took a sip, and I wished it was poisoned. “Should have known he would break your heart eventually. I don’t believe a creature like that is capable of real love.”

“That’s rich,” I snapped.

Obviously unable to hear me, he carried on, “But, still, it is a shame. You’d have been an asset to the game if you had just kept in line and done your job. Not every game gets such an interesting Easter Egg dynamic. And Felix… Well, Felix will hardly be the same after this, I suspect. He really does love you, despite it all. But now you’ve gone and paid it forward, and broken his heart. If only you’d listened to him. Maybe he could have actually fixed you.”

Being so painfully angry and unable to move was torture. But, still, it was Gene. It’s hard to be sincerely hurt and offended by the words of a sprite you don’t respect in the slightest. He’s never not a slime ball. He’s just so unspeakably annoying, like a mosquito that only drinks martinis.

After another short sip, he said, “If you care to know, I’ll be there for him through his mourning process. But I won’t be getting teary over you. I just had to come see you for myself, to see if this really is the end. And I got my answer.”

He hopped from the couch and straightened his cardigan. “And with that, I bid you goodbye, Make-it Mavis.”

I glared daggers as he turned away. “As if you’d be so lucky.”

I lost time once again.

This time around, the first thing I sensed was the sound of the creaky cord train. I looked, and I could see Wreck-it prying his massive body out of the seat. Slowly, carefully, he walked over to the couch across from me, making sure not to step on any of the gifts with his meaty feet. When he sat, I noticed that he himself was awkwardly holding something to his chest. He looked down at all the gifts uncertainly.

“Uh… geez,” he whispered, before placing his gift outside the circle. It was a little stack of bricks. Maybe that was weird, but what the hell else did he have to give? He must have known that, too, but apparently he just really, really wanted to give me something. As gently as he could, he nudged the bricks into the circle with his toes, but he still managed to knock over a little vase of flowers that spilled a small puddle of dirty water and dead plants. “Gah-- darn it--!”

Unable to do anything for the flowers, he just scooted back properly into the couch and leaned his elbows on his knees, slowly and anxiously twisting his giant hands as he looked at me intently. I was sort of surprised to see him, and wondered what he could possibly have to say. After all, we did not exactly leave off on a good note. He sort of sounded like he hated my guts the last time we spoke. He even tried to hit me. I tried to hit him. It was a hideous scene.

I said wearily, “Hi.”

Wreck-it obviously did not answer. Not for a while. But eventually, he averted his gaze from me awkwardly, and looked everywhere I wasn’t. When he spoke, his voice was very slow, clumsy, and… miserable.

“...H-hey, Ma-- Mavis. Uh… I don’t… really know where to start. I’m no good at this stuff. I mean, I don’t think I am. I’ve never had to-- uh… Nothing like this… has ever happened. Not to anyone I know. But, uh… I need-- need to say some stuff… to you. I was hopin’ to just put it off ‘til you got better, but then everyone started talkin’ like, well--” he paused to look at me with a grave expression, the sort I’d never seen on him before. He looked me over, his face pinched as if it hurt just to look.

“Well… we’re all still rootin’ for ya and everything, but… man… lookin’ at you right now, I… I mean, I can see right through you. I-- I don’t wanna believe it, but… realistically, I think… if I got somethin’ to say to you, I better say it now. Even if you, uh… can’t hear it. Maybe you can. I dunno…”

So, I was translucent. Teetering on the edge of corruption. That was great to hear. 

“Spit it out, man,” I grumbled uselessly.

Wreck-it took another minute to stare at his folded hands and collect his thoughts. His gaze remained on them when he finally spoke up again.

“Mavis… about… the, uh, other day… I’m--... I’m sorry. For a lot of stuff. Uh… first, I guess I’m sorry for dragging you out here before you were ready. I don’t think I, uh… quite got how bad things were. And, I mean, yeah, you could’ve told me more about your situation, but… maybe you shouldn’t have had to. Maybe if I’d let you go out on your own time, what Tapper said wouldn’t have made you so upset, and then you wouldn’t have wanted to--... Maybe. I guess the maybes don’t matter anymore. Point is, I’m sorry I didn’t just mind my business. I was wrong.”

We were both quiet. I never really expected him to blame himself for anything. I didn’t exactly blame him, either. He shouldn’t have done what he did. But I would have spiraled either way, I think. He just sped up the process.

“And…” he continued softly, “listen… you… were right. Kind of. Sometimes, it does help to go to Tapper’s. To drink. ‘Cause, uh… all that stuff you said about… being lonely… feeling trapped… like you want impossible things… I, uh… I do get that way… sometimes. And it is easier to just try to forget about it. But, I mean, like I said… it only bothers me sometimes. But from the way you made it sound… I think… Do you really feel that way all the time?”

I’m not sure if I would have had an answer, even if he could have heard me.

“‘Cause, man… if I really did feel that way all the time,” he muttered, “I think--... I think I’d be even worse off than you. I can’t believe you still smile and laugh and play games through all of that. Well-- I mean… you did. Before all this. But… listen, I don’t blame you for-- for taking buffs anymore. I’m… sorry. I’m sorry for freaking out. You might be a slimy lil’ goblin, but you don’t deserve… this.”

That was nice of him… I think. I don’t know. I wanted to reject the pity, but it was getting harder and harder to deny what a massive downer my whole situation was. And, like, I don’t just mean my spiral. I mean my life. The way things have played out. But, the thing is, I sort of felt less pathetic about it. Especially after what Wreck-it said, honestly. Like anyone else in my situation would have crumbled already. I thought I already believed that. But hearing it from someone else really put it into perspective.

Maybe I wasn’t pathetic for struggling, for crying, for trying to escape it all. Maybe anyone would have done what I did. I just never want to do what anyone would have done. I want to be exceptional. I want to be the strongest sprite in the arcade.

Honestly? When it comes down to it, I’m pretty sure that I am.

After all, despite everything… I wasn’t dead yet.

Wreck-it spoke again after a while, his voice more fragile and quiet than I’d ever heard it.

“Don’t die, Mavis. Hang in there just a little bit longer. I know you can make it.”

I knew it, too. 

I said firmly, “I always make it.”

Wreck-it screamed, and I jumped. I jumped! My body was back online. I was finally coming around! 

And I scared the absolute crit outta Wreck-it! Bonus points!

He leapt to his feet, knocking over more flowers, but he didn’t care. He just stared at me like his eyes were going to pop out of his skull, and his body shook with adrenaline that didn’t know what it wanted. He kept looking like he was gonna run, but he couldn’t take his eyes off me.

“MAVIS!” he shouted, his voice high and broken. “MAVIS! HOLY CRIT, YOU’RE AWAKE!”

“No kidding,” I said, suddenly realizing how rough my voice was, how dry my throat was. How dry my eyes were. I wondered if I had been blinking at all.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Wreck-it shook, fumbling with his own thoughts. “I gotta-- I gotta tell somebody-- I--”

He whirled around and immediately tripped over the couch with a loud oof, knocking it completely over. I snickered dryly as he pushed to his feet again. Before he moved any further, he pointed to me and said, “Don’t move. Don’t-- gahh!” And like that, he made a lumbering run for Game Central, frantically calling for Surge.

Right around then was when I started getting crazy sharp pins and needles… everywhere. My whole body really was waking up, and it did not feel good. My head started throbbing. The sound of my blood whooshing nearly drowned everything else out.

With an electric crackle, Surge appeared in front of me, and this time, I did yelp a bit, mostly for the freedom of it. He looked frazzled, confused, and, frankly, amazed. Even though he practically teleported, he looked winded, as if he ran over. 

Adjusting his glasses, he huffed, “Mavis?!”

“No,” I said flatly, “Pac-man.”

“Good grief, I thought you were a goner,” he said as he started pulling more tools off his belt than I remember ever seeing. Behind him, I saw Wreck-it finally catch up, but he made a dive for the cord train instead, struggling to set himself right-side up as it rolled off into the tunnel.

“Love the vote of confidence,” I told Surge. Suddenly, I felt a bit lighter, like that weight holding me down had lifted. And it had, quite literally. I managed to look back over my shoulder and see that there had been a very heavy blanket over my back. I asked what it was for, and Surge said it was to help keep pressure on my pixels and discourage them from separating. Should’ve figured. Pretty neat.

Once I tried moving, I discovered that even without the blanket, I was extremely weak. To my dismay, Surge had to help me roll onto my back. He told me not to sit up, but I insisted on trying. So I pushed up with his help, and got some intense headrush that made my vision blue and cloudy. I wanted to put my feet on the floor, but Surge was adamant that I make it as easy as possible to lie back down. So I just leaned sideways into the back of the couch, way too winded for having just sat up.

I took a look at my body while Surge took a reading of my code stability again. It was pretty eerie. My pixels still had a ghostly blue twinge to them, and if I squinted, I could see right through them. I might have been awake, but I was still in rough shape. It sure confused the hell out of Surge. He took multiple readings and kept smacking the side of his device.

“What’s the deal?” I asked.

“Mmm,” he grunted incredulously. “By all logic, you should not be moving and talking right now. It’s good that you are, of course, but it doesn’t make a lick of sense. Your code is still too unstable for any of that.”

That sort of made me smile. I could have said a cheesy line about being used to instability, but I saved it. I was a bluish, slightly translucent miracle already.

Surge started doing some more examinations. He took my pulse, which was low. He shined a light in my eyes, and wanted to do the same for my mouth, but I bit his finger. He wasn’t thrilled with that, but said that it was a good sign for my reflexes. Then he started poking and prodding me everywhere, asking if I could feel it or if it hurt at all. I hated it. A lot. But as I told him, I could barely feel it. I was still fizzling with pins and needles.

Around then was when I heard the cord train creaking in the tunnel, and I immediately knew what was coming. Before the train was even visible, Fix-it leapt out onto the platform and saw me.

“MAVY!!”

“‘Eyyy,” I nodded.

“MAVY, OH MAVY!!” he bound over, but Surge warned him to stay out of the hazard zone until he was done with his examination. Fix-it barely seemed to care. He could not contain himself. His eyes were already watering as he kept squealing, “YOU’RE AWAKE!! OH, THANK THE DEVS, YOU’RE ALIVE!!”

I laughed triumphantly. “YEAH,” I declared, “SUCK IT, GENE!”

“YEAH, GENE!” Fix-it yelled, and I’m not sure if he was just too overjoyed to object, or if he, too, enjoyed my triumph over Gene’s belief that I was going to die. Probably a combination.

Once Surge was done poking and prodding, he figured it was safe for me to very carefully start moving, and helped me stretch as gently as possible to give my muscles a fighting chance. I’d been motionless long enough that they’d almost stopped working. I eventually got to my feet, but had to rely heavily on Surge’s support as we went back into my game where I could more comfortably and privately recuperate.

Fix-it asked a whole slew of questions, both to me and to Surge. I hardly had any answers, which seemed fair for someone right out of a coma. Honestly, I had way more questions of my own, but I didn’t want to ask in front of Surge. The dramatic irony here, of course, being that Surge was the one with the answers I needed. 

Certainly not the ones I wanted, though.

[cheyentjj]

A/N: so this is a little something I've written based on a dream I've had recently. I have to say Henry doesn't occur in it much, I had to write it though. I hope you like it and let me know what you think. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Looking around me i saw a gorgeous looking tree. The leaves on it so green, so vibrant, a painting would go to shame next to it. Here and there a flower scattered around the surface. Pure white petals with pink tips. Passing by the tree I was unable to take my eyes off of it. I was walking down the path when I crashed into something. "umph" I exclaimed struggling to keep my balance.

"oh, dear are you alright?" a strong but pleasant voice asked.

Looking up I realised I hadn't just ran into something, but someone.

A lady of age standing before me. Short white hair framing her face. A genuine smile shaping her light pink lips, making her blue eyes all the brighter.

I smiled back. "yes I'm quit alright. I'm so sorry though, I wasn't watching where I was going."

She waved in my direction, "don't worry dear. I'm just fine. Are you lost?" she asked obviously picking up on the fact that I was a foreigner to this island.

"well," carefully thinking about my answer. I didn't know where I was going, so theoretically I was lost. But I didn't wanna come across as someone who couldn't take care of herself.

"not lost per se." the last vowel being dragged out just a little more than necessary. While looking around, squinting when the sun shone too brightly into my eyes.

She raised an eyebrow at me, an amused smirk grazing her lips.

"so where are you going then?" she asked pointing at every direction around her.

I chuckled lightly. "to any place that will take my breath away." I shrugged.

The look she was giving me right then and there couldn't have been anything else but surprise and admiration. Her eyes slightly bigger than they were before, mouth opening and closing a couple of times. Before letting out a breathy laugh.

" I don't think I can say I've heard that one before. But good answer. How about I show you a couple of places that could do just that? I know the place quit well." she suggested pointing down the road.

I nodded, finally admitting that I could actually use a tour guide on this island.

" oh, shoot. I'm Ronnie by the way"i rushed out of my mouth before raising my hands at her.

"Marianne" she said, accepting my hand.

I smiled and then motioned for her to walk ahead.

Minute after minute passed of Marianne walking beside me down the road. Showing things left and right that she redeemed worth a visit in my days left on the island. She showed me where to find the gardens, the underground war hospital, and what she believed was the most beautiful spot on the beach.

Though I was sure I had never met Marianne, never having been to Jersey before. I kept having the feeling that I had.

After about 45 minutes of walking and pleasant talk I stopped dead in my tracks looking at the lady in front of me.

She turned around a confused look on her face. "dear, are you alr"

"you're Henry cavill's mother" I said quietly. Solving the riddle in my head.

For a second a flash passed in Marianne's eyes. I would say it was disappointment. But it was gone before I had the time to really see it.

"yes I am." she said firmly.

I nodded at her. "you raised a good man."i looked towards the ocean before pointing to it." so where exactly is that spot you were talking about. "

Again that look of surprise making her look like she had no words left in her brain.

But then she smiled again, as warmly as ever. The kindness returned to those blue orbs.

We were sitting on a little cliff looking over the ocean and beach. And in that moment I doubted I'd ever find a more beautiful place to spent my free minutes.

Though our pleasant talk had returned shortly after we had left for this particular spot, I could tell Marianne wanted to ask me something. I, however, did not want to push it so just stayed quiet until she would take the plunge.

"so you're a fan of my son's work?" she hesitantly asked looking into the ocean.

"well yes. He's very talented. Who could not be a fan of his work."i said again shrugging my shoulders.

" which one is your favorite? "

I glanced over at her, just to find she was looking me dead in the eye. Right into my soul.

" the Witcher. His passion for the role is very visible in his performance. It's admirable. " I said, not ones breaking eye contact.

She smiled widely and I couldn't help but be confused with her reaction.

"what?"

She shook her haid. "oh it's nothing dear. Most girls that get asked that question just go with superman. No explanation as to why. Probably cause they have never actually seen the film, they just know he looked good."she said.

" oh well, yeah he is good looking. But having seen you it's not hard to see where he got that from. "I smiled at her.

" oh he got that from his father dear. "she smiled in admiration." so is it safe to say you are here for the durrell challenge then? "

" oh yes, but please don't get this the wrong way. I'm not here for him. I'm here for the zoo. You see I used to study animal care in college back home. I knew as soon as I found out i could participate in a charity run to benifit the zoo, that I was gonna do it. Been training for a whole year now. "I explained to the elegant lady sitting next to me.

She smiled at me again." you, my dear, are one in a million. How about we go for a snack? I have some fresh fruits at home that desperately need to be eaten."

"oh no I couldn't intrude on your private life like that. I'm fine I'll ju"

She cut me off placing her small ha'd on my knee. "nonsense. Cmon off we go."

I stood up along with her, not wanting to say no if she insisted. And followed her to her home.

On the way there I tried multiple times to get out from it, make up excuses to leave, but she was having none of it. And when we arrived after a ten minute walk I was at a loss for words. A beautiful house stood before me. It wasn't just a house, it was a home. The warm brown brick making it feel a bit more rustique than modern.

She opened the door, motioning for me to get in. I hesitantly did so but stood still in the hallway. Not daring to go too far.

"oh dear don't just stand there, go on in."

I smiled nervously but obliged either way. Walking further into the home.

I could hear people talking somewhere in the house. The sounds getting louder as I got closer to what seemed to be the kitchen area.

"oh hello there." someone said as they saw you enter.

"hi, ehm, I'm Ronnie. Marianne said to just head on in."you explained.

" ah and if mother said so than so it shall be." the man said dramatically." I'm Charlie." he stretched out his hand to me. Taking his hand I smiled.

" come sit down we were just about to crack a beer and have a snack. Want to join?"he pointed his thumb towards the glass back doors which were slightly open,leading to a backyard.

" I could do with a snack, thank you. No beer though"you accepted his offer.

"perhaps a cocktail then? My wife made me take classes so I can make a pretty good one." he winked.

"well in that case, yes. Please, surprise me."you laughed.

He pointed to the back door, letting you know you could go on ahead. Nodding you started towards the garden.

Stepping out following the sound of laughter. Pure and utter belly laughter. Three guys standing there hurled over with laughter.

Though all three were not small in stature their laughs making them look like mere boys.

"I swear they never grow up" Marianne nudged you, now dressed in something more comfortable. "boys, this is Ronnie. She will be joining us for the afternoon. Please, behave like the gentlemen I raised you to be."she scolded them playfully,making me laugh in the process.

Marianna grabbed my elbow, guiding me toward the one son I knew all too well.

" Henry, this is Ronnie. She will be running the race tomorrow. Shes studied animal care. Isn't that wonderful."she said excitedly and then just left.

I let out a breathy laugh. Looking from her into the pools that were his eyes. And then straight to the ground trying to compose myself.

Just a guy. He is just. A. Guy.

"animal care, huh?" he said making me look back at him.

"yea I started. Didn't get to finish. But the intrest is still there."i shrugged.

He smiled widely at me. Looking over to his mom, he shook his head.

" so tell me more. What did you learn?"

" and that is the story about how I met my husband" I finished my story.

Henry sitting next to you laughing. "yes my mum is quite the character." he said. "see I could never tell this story like she does. I want there for the half if it."he acted dramatically.

" well it's a lovely story. But I'm afraid our time here is up. I'm glad to have met you, Ronnie. Henry, always a pleasure, and good luck with the premiere of your new movie. And to you at home I will see you again tomorrow. Thank you and good night."

We finished the talk show we were invited to a couple months after our wedding. We had been together for two years now. Inseparable since the day we met.

@mary-ann84 @littlefreya @burdenedwith-gloriouslove @wondersofdreaming @iloveyouyen

@dancingwendigo @hnryycvll

[exhaustedfander]

When is Enough Enough? [Chapter Six]

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / Epilog 

a03 link to story

“Dragonfly?” Remus asked hoarsely. Quickly, Logan scrambled to Remus’s bedside and knelt beside him. Looking at his boyfriend, Logan was stricken with grief.

Remus’s completion was ghostly pale. Without his usual vibrant purple eye-makeup, Logan could see the dark bluish circles that rimmed his eyes, looking as though Remus hadn’t slept in a week. His hair was ruffled and slightly stiff with sweat and he looked so terribly small in his hospital gown, lying back against the pillows. Remus had always been such an animated, larger than life personality. He moved through the world as though he owned it, with reckless abandon and a glint in his eyes that spelled trouble for all he came into contact with.

But now, seeing him lying weakly in a hospital bed, exhausted and disoriented, Logan felt his heart ache.

“It’s me, sweetheart,” Logan said, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he placed a gentle hand to Remus’s cheek, “It’s Logan.” Logan wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he would receive, considering all that had transpired between them before Remus was placed in the hospital. He would understand if Remus curled away from his touch, or if he yelled horrid, vile things at him. He would caste no blame on his boyfriend if he did any of those things, instead taking the brunt of the insults calmly.

That wasn’t what happened, though.

Instead, Remus smiled up at him, the expression tired but buoyant.

“I’m so happy to see you,” he said, leaning into Logan’s touch against his cheek, caressed by a now-trembling hand.

“And I’m happy to see you,” Logan said, unable to hold back the onslaught of tears of relief, feeling one burn its way down his cheek. “I was so – so worried.”

“Mr. Knightly had a very close call her,” the nurse who Logan had barely noticed was in the room pipped up, “But he’s going to be just fine.” “I asked for you when I woke up!” Remus said proudly, turning to face Logan, his voice weak but teaming with animation, “I even described you! I told the doctor that you were beautiful, and a huge nerd, and really smart, fantastic in bed –.” Logan didn’t miss as the nurse’s cheeks flushed slightly at that.

“You’ll have to forgive him,” she said clearing her throat, “Mr. Knightly is on a lot of pain medication currently.” Logan fought back the urge to assure that this wasn’t too far of a step away from Remus’s usual behavior, still so swept up in the fact that he was here with his boyfriend and that he was alive.

“That’s understood,” Logan responded absentmindedly, and the nurse nodded and walked out of the room, passing Roman who loitered in the doorway. As much as Roman wanted to be at Remus’s bedside as well, he wanted to give the couple a bit of space before then.

“I almost died,” Remus said plainly.

The statement was by no means untrue. Logan had been informed of the situation by a doctor beforehand; Remus had been struck by a driver in a crosswalk who had attempted to flee but had been apprehended and was now in police custody. Remus had been delivered to the hospital bleeding profusely with a large gash in his left side that needed to be stapled shut. He had also required a blood transfusion, having lost as much blood as he did, and it had been quite the close call. Remus very well could have died.

“I know,” Logan said, gently taking one of Remus’s hands in his own. When more tears ran down his face Remus frowned, gently reaching out so that the tips of his fingers barely made contact.

“Why’re you crying, LoLo?” Logan shook his head, as though he could in turn shake lose all of the thoughts of all that could have gone wrong. Remus almost never called him LoLo, and that was one nickname that Logan admittedly couldn’t stand. But there was no way he could bring himself to correct Remus now.

“I was terribly afraid for you, Remus. I got the call and-and I rushed here and –.”

“I always wondered what it would be like to be hit by a car,” Remus said interrupting Logan mid-sentence, his voice far-off and distant sounding, “It’s hard to describe…so much pain. So much blood. I remember, laying on the ground and seeing all that red leaking out of me. I was almost positive I was going to die there, lying on the asphalt. I thought about you then. About our fight.”

Ah, so Remus remembered after all. Logan hadn’t been certain, considering how disoriented he was and the way his boyfriend had been behaving. Logan bit his lip, cursing his damned emotions for putting him in such a state, especially considering all that Remus had gone through. In a perfect world, Logan could turn off all of the messy, trifling emotions that made it so difficult to say grounded and simply be there for Remus without being overcome with so many feelings. But he lived in no such perfect world.

“Remus, I am so sorry for everything I’ve put you through. I can’t help but think that everything that’s happened is in many ways my doing,” Logan admitted, the words searing their way up his throat.

“Don’t talk like that, Dragonfly. You didn’t…it wasn’t your fault. I just needed some air and…” Remus didn’t finish. Glancing over his shoulder, Logan noticed Roman awkwardly shuffling in the doorway and he motioned for him to enter the room. Hesitantly, Roman came near to Remus’s beside.

“Dear, your brother is here to see you.” Remus blinked in disbelief, turning to see Roman kneeling on the opposite side of Logan, a clear look of relief etched into his face.

“Roman?” Logan wondered how deeply that stung for his friend, the incredulous sound in Remus’s voice as though he’d never in a million years expected his brother to be at his side in such a vulnerable time.

“I’m here, Remus,” Roman said, a hallow smile having made its way onto his face, “Logan told me what happened. I’m...” he hesitated, tripping over his own tongue. What could he possibly say that could do anything to mend their fractured relationship? How could he express the depth of his relief that his brother was here and alive? “…I’m glad you’re okay.”

It seemed for now, that would have to do.

Remus cocked a lopsided smile in Roman’s direction.

“You are?” Roman bit his lip, looking near a breaking point of some kind, and doing his damn best not to reach it.

“Of course I am. When Logan told me that you’d be injured…well. I was scared, Remus.” Remus’s face scrunched up in clear confusion as he stared intently at his twin.

“But…I thought you hated me?”

Remus was a brash, outspoken man. In almost any instance, Logan was sure that his boyfriend would say anything on his mind, no matter how blatant or in some instances cruel. Despite that…even this seemed somewhere past Remus’s usual limit, and it could most likely be purely blamed on the pain medication.

Greif flashed in Roman’s eyes as he placed a gentle hand on Remus’s shoulder.

“No,” he said gravely, shaking his head, “I don’t hate you, Remus…I never have.”

The admission was strong, something Logan found somewhat miraculous to bear witness to. The twin’s relationship had been in such a bad way for as long as Logan could remember. In all honesty, he’d been almost positive that they’d hated each other, both of them. Roman could be lying, playing things up for his brother’s sake…but Logan didn’t think so. There was genuine, heartbreaking conviction in Roman’s voice.

“Oh,” Remus said simply after a moment of thought, smiling, “That’s nice to know. I guess I don’t hate you either.”

Loopy on pain medication, Remus would never know how much that statement meant to his brother. Roman nodded, squeezing Remus’s shoulder affectionately, ever so gently.

“Logan’s been telling me about you two,” Roman said, eager to change the subject, as Remus was evidently not in the best mind-frame for a serious-talk just yet. Remus jerked rigidly to make eye-contact with Logan, the action clearly causing him some pain as he hissed under his breath.

“Logan? Dragonfly, did – did you…?” Remus couldn’t finish the thought, it all seemed too far-fetched. Logan nodded, giving Roman a glance and smiling.

“Yes, love. Roman knows.” Remus grinned, arching slightly so that he could be closer to Logan before leaning back against the pillows, the simple action too exhausting. Helpfully, Logan leaned close, connecting their lips. Remus smiled into the kiss, desperate for more than the chaste embrace but far too exhausted for anything more passionate.

“You’ve never called me love before,” Remus observed happily, before his brain seemed to fully catch up, “And you told Roman! Roman knows that we’re together and that I love you and that you’re my sexy nerd!”

“Yes,” Roman chuckled, standing up and smiling fondly at the couple. “I know. Logan’s been telling me a lot about you two and I have to say, seeing you together, you’re a lovely couple. Congratulations to you both.” Logan tiled his head.

“Are you leaving so soon?” “I am,” Roman said, not addressing how he felt as though he was encroaching on the couple's space, “But I’ll be back first thing tomorrow. Goodbye, Remus, feel better. I’m happy I got the chance to see you. Bye, Logan.” Having recovered from Roman’s apparent impending departure, Logan simply nodded, waving as his friend began to exit the room. “Ah well, alright. See you tomorrow, then. Have a good rest of your day.” Roman stopped, turning on his heel.

“Logan, it’s Half past 10 o'clock. It’s hardly day-time anymore.” And with that, Roman was gone.

Logan looked out the window in disbelief but sure enough it was dark outside. He supposed he hadn’t noticed the time passing, so caught up in his worries and telling Roman about his romance. When he looked back to Remus, he noticed his eyes starting to droop.

“Don’t you wanna go home too, LoLo? It’s getting late I don’t wanna...” Remus yawned, “keep you up too late. I know how cranky you get.” Logan shook his head, running a hand through Remus’s hair and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

“I’d like to stay here with you, if you don’t mind.” Even under the growing weight of his fatigue, Remus managed to pull a surprised expression.

“Oh, I don’t mind! But…where would you sleep? And won’t the nurses kick you out?”

“I asked the nurses if I could sleep in the chair and they said yes.”

“But the chair ’ll be so uncomfortable! You’ll get a crick in your neck, and you’ll be grumpy, and –.”

“I’ll be fine, Remus,” Logan assured, finally beginning to calm down off of all of the adrenaline he’d been exposed to over the course of the day, “I don’t want to leave you if I don’t have to. But if you want me to go, I’ll do so.” Remus seemed unhappy at the thought of Logan leaving him in his hospital room alone, his lips curling into a frown. “No…I don’t want you to leave.” Logan smiled.

“Then I’ll stay right here with you, sweetheart.” A silence fell over them, one that neither seemed to mind. Logan traced circles into Remus’s palm, so thankful to be holding the hand of the man he loved before Remus suddenly spoke up.

“I was drunk.” Logan’s eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“Pardon?”

“When I got hit by the car,” Remus clarified, a guilty look on his face, “I’d gone to a liquor store when I left. I shouldn’t have…I know what drinking does to me. And…and I must’ve been drunk and not paying attention and I got hit a-and it was my fault.”

No one had mentioned that Remus had been under the influence when he had been hit. In truth, Logan had yet to even find out about the man who had struck Remus in the cross-walk, only knowing that he was a low-down person who had planned on performing a hit and run. Even if Remus had been drunk, that driver was responsible for what happened. Logan squeezed his boyfriend’s hand.

“Remus, it’s alright. Everything going to be alright,” Logan said, hoping he sounded believable, “It isn’t your fault. The only fault lies with the person who was driving that car, and I am certain that he will be punished accordingly. Please, don’t put any blame on yourself, love. It’s okay.”

After a moment Remus sighed sleepily, mumbling out an “Okay.”

“Are you tired, Remus?” Remus nodded.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to go to sleep. I want you to keep talking, I like hearing your voice. It calms me down. I…I didn’t think I was going to get to hear it again.” Logan had never had a better reason to ramble. “Well then, I’ll keep talking until you fall asleep and I’ll be right here when you wake up. Does that sound satisfactory?” Remus nodded, content with the suggestion.

“I’m not going to wake up and find out this is all a dream, right? You’re here, aren’t you Logan?” Logan frowned, bringing Remus’s hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“I’m here, I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere. I love you, Remus, so very much.” Remus smiled faintly, finally fully reclining against his pillows and feeling content enough with that being true to shut his eyes.

“Okay. Good. I love you too, Dragonfly.”

With that, Logan continued to talk until Remus was in a deep slumber. He told him about his conversations with Roman and how he had regaled the tale of their first moments as he couple. He told Remus how worried he’d been when he received the call. Most importantly, he told Remus he loved him to the moon and back, an expression he’d previously found so silly.

That night Logan slept curled up in an uncomfortable hospital chair, listening closely to the sounds of Remus snoring, of Remus breathing.

He looked forward to tomorrow and all of the days that they would get to spend together after that. Logan slept peacefully.  

=+=

[uselessnocturnal]

Stupid for You

olivarry secret santa 2018 | blind date

summary;; it starts with a blind date and a mistake but slowly becomes so much more.

notes;; This is my Secret Santa gift to @likeaspeedingarrow and I think I managed to combine elements from all the tropes you gave me :) I hope you like it and happy holidays! // special thanks to @temmie-loony and @zealousconnoisseurrebel for helping me out

read the full fic on ao3

—————————————————

Barry has been waiting in Stubbs for twenty-seven minutes now. The waiters have started giving him pitying looks as they serve him yet another glass of tap water – even the lady sitting in the corner of the café shoots him a sympathetic glance over the rim of her mug before returning to an animated conversation with her friends.

Fingers drumming against the marble table, he ducks his head, feeling oddly exposed sitting in the centre of the coffee shop alone at a table for two. His phone lights up and his heart leaps to his throat, having finally been acknowledged.

the best: sorry, barr! i’m going Christmas shopping with eddie

nerd: you only have two days left!

nerd: how have you not bought everything?

the best: i know i know sorryy

the best: rain check?

It takes all of Barry’s self-control not to groan out loud. It’s not the first time Iris has cancelled plans with him for her most recent love interests (in this case it’s Eddie but the difference is that Barry actually likes this guy). He’s not jealous in any way – Iris is practically his sister! – in fact, he’s happy for them; even then, it would have been nice if she’d texted him before he ended up humiliating himself in his sad isolation.

For goodness sake, everyone thought he had been stood up by a blind date! A single half-eaten slice of cheesecake sits temptingly in front of him – a pity gift that the waiters blessed upon him. It would’ve been humiliating if the cake hadn’t tasted so good.

All things considered, though, he couldn’t be too bitter. It’s some twisted sense of tasting his own medicine – especially since he’s definitely left Iris waiting at least an hour and a half before at some convention.

He’s just about to leave when his eyes flicker to the door, its bell still ringing and everything stops.

Oliver Queen walks through the door. Oliver-freaking-Queen.

There’s a surprising lack of reaction amongst the other patrons – either they don’t notice (too distracted by their own conversations) or they don’t recognise him. Heck, Barry’s not even sure if it actually is Oliver Queen; the man is only wearing a thin autumn jacket over a shirt and jeans which is ridiculous considering the sub-zero temperature outside.

Barry is frozen. Every thought in his brain is screaming for him to get a grip and look away or act casual or something – anything is better than blatant staring! Really, who can blame him. Oliver Queen is a god walking the mortal grounds. Everything from his clear but guarded blue-green eyes and his muscles to his confidence and the way he can silence a crowd with a single look. If Oliver Queen claimed the sky was purple, several would probably actually check.

Though not exactly a celebrity, the Queens are relatively well known: especially with Robert Queen getting lost at sea and the consequent plummet of Queen Consolidated. Oliver Queen himself had been a bit of a legend before, having been a well-known billionaire’s playboy son. Now, however, he seems to keep to himself, slowly building his father’s company back up and keeping away from the tabloids. There really isn’t that much Barry knows about him – except that Oliver is very hot.

Barry is still watching at Oliver as the man scans the room. Next thing Barry knows, Oliver has those demanding blue eyes fixed on him and is striding in a clear and direct path to Barry’s table.

He’ll deny it in the future, but he panics.

There are literal seconds before Oliver reaches his table and, in true Barry Allen style, he tears his gaze away and attempts some semblance of nonchalance by jamming his glass to his mouth before realising that it’s empty and now he looks like even more of an idiot.

Whether Oliver doesn’t notice or chooses to spare Barry the humiliation, it’s a true blessing that he decides not to mention anything.

Oliver stops by the empty seat opposite Barry and Barry makes proper eye contact for the first time. There’s a slight tilt in Oliver’s lips – the kind of framed smile that people have as they’re about to make an important business transaction. And yet, Oliver shifts his weight from one foot to another, his eyes slightly uneasy.

He’s nervous, Barry realises, along with something along the lines of whythefuckohmygoshwhat.

“Hi...ah,” Oliver begins his question with a lack of fluency that is uncharacteristic for him, “are you my blind date?”

Now, Barry’s had a lot of shocks today and it seems to be snowballing to become even more chaotic but this? This was ridiculous.

All it takes is a single question to unleash the rambling mess that is Barry Allen.

It’s as though he’s lost his brain to mouth filter and his limbs aren’t even functioning properly and oh gosh is he trying to stand up?

“I’m Barry,” he introduces, scrambling up to shake the other man’s hand, almost knocking over his glass, “I’ve been here for quite a while...not that I’m trying to make you feel bad! I just - uh -”

Oliver takes Barry’s warm hand in his own, skepticism colouring his eyes.

“Right - ah - sorry,” Barry’s head lowers praying that the burning in his cheeks isn’t obvious, “Should we sit down? I think- I think we should sit.”

With all the grace and poise of a CEO in the making, Oliver takes the chair opposite Barry’s, barely drawing any attention to his practically incoherent speech.

“Oliver Queen” he reinforces, smiling slightly in the hope that it’d put the young man at ease, “it’s nice to meet you, Barry.”

There’s almost frantic head bobbing, “Yeah, I know. That you’re Oliver, not the second part,” he winces, suddenly realising how creepy that sounds, “I’m sorry, I tend to go off when I’m nervous, I’ll stop now. It’s nice to meet you too. You can have some of this cheesecake.”

Letting out a less-than-obvious breath, Barry sinks into his chair, watching Oliver carefully poke at the cake with a fork and praying that maybe - just maybe - he’d be able to control his speech

There’s no obvious sign that Oliver’s getting more comfortable but he’s not leaving either so that’s a good sign, Barry decides. And then it hits him: Oliver’s here on a blind date. He thinks I’m his blind date.

Really and truly, Barry has messed up.

“So, Barry, what do you work as?” Oliver starts, somehow composed despite Barry’s apparent humiliation.

Good. Great. This is a question Barry can answer without messing up. “I’m a CSI at CCPD - assistant CSI actually. I’ve been working there for a couple of years now.”

Oliver nods like that makes sense and hey, maybe this conversation isn’t too bad after all!

“There have been the recent cases,” Barry remembers, his eyes lighting up, “they’re so...bizarre.”

Immediately, he launches into the story of a murder involving a banjo and a microwave and Oliver listens in fascination, a small smile on his face as he listens to the brunette speak with such passion.

“Why a CSI?” Oliver asks, leaning forward in his seat.

Barry pauses, the usual lie already sitting on his tongue instead decides to be honest, “Well, my father got framed for my mother’s murder.”

Oliver stills suddenly, hyperaware of the feelings and guilty for stumbling upon a sensitive topic but Barry carries on, trying to veer the conversation away from this sombre tone, “I am learning to accept it...it’s not easy and I’m never going to stop trying to find the real killer but it no longer plagues me at night.”

He offers Oliver a soft and sincere smile, a show of support that someday it will get better.

“Even so,” Barry adds sheepishly, “I’m a bit of a science nerd so I probably would have ended up in a similar situation anyway.”

He doesn’t really give Oliver time to respond, instead plunging into another unique topic of conversation, “Ya know zombies do exist?” before going on to describe zombie ants and they get sucked in to their own bubble of a world which is all hope and light and God, how did Barry get on to talking about penguins.

“They’re the most loving of all animals!” Barry insists, arms flailing, “they huddle and everything!”

Oliver’s arms rest on the table as he laughs. A true laughter that kind of resounds throughout the coffee shop, the sound of the smile in his eyes overflowing into the air.

It’s that moment Barry knows he really is in trouble.

Watching Oliver grin, all-teeth and eyes, hearing his laughter...Barry knows he would do anything to keep that kind of joy on Oliver Queen’s face. Which is ridiculous because he’s crushing on a guy who thinks Barry is his date when he really isn’t.

This is a mess.

It only gets worse when there’s suddenly a mess of blonde hair and scarf appears in the corner of his vision.

“Ah, hi,” she starts, readjusting her glasses and turning to Oliver, “Are you Oliver?”

One glance at his narrowed eyes and she ploughs on, “I’m so sorry – there was this bus and some really bad traffic and I knew I was going to late…but I’m here now!”

A hesitant laugh escapes her and she sticks out a firm hand, “Felicity. Smoak. Laurel Lance set us up I think?”

The bubble doesn’t pop. It freezes and shatters.

There’s a sinking feeling in Barry’s stomach. Oliver’s eyes widen infinitesimally, not-quite hurt rolling off him in waves, as he turns to stare questioningly at Barry who ducks his head, avoiding further eye contact and hopes that the burning shame is not at all obvious.

The woman, Felicity, holds her hands up and gestures vaguely to the two, “Wait. Am I- am I interrupting something?”

Yes. Barry wants to say but how can he when the situation is his fault anyway.

Through his lowered lashes he can see Oliver tilt his head and put on a half-smile.

“No, not at all. Barry and I were just catching up,” he reassures her with all the ease of a CEO.

Barry’s head shoots up, all too willing to go along with the lie, “Ye-yeah, no, don’t worry about it. I was just leaving.

Stumbling to his feet like a deer just learning to walk - all limbs and no coordination - Barry gathers his jacket up and gives Felicity what he hopes is a reassuring smile but could be mistaken for a grimace, painfully aware that his ears are scarlet and refusing to meet Oliver’s eyes.

“Sorrysorrysorry,” he mumbles - both to Felicity for being in her way and to Oliver for...everything, “it was nice - uh -seeing you, Oliver.”

Head lowered, he speed walks (read: scrambles) out of the café where the bitter wind slaps him.

For a moment he stands there, the chill clawing into his bones, absolutely mortified.

What the hell did he just do?

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