#and that Barry should make up for 'ruining his life' for holding him accountable for his actions

[kerryweaverlesbian]

Something I like in season 4's the flash is that the elongated man's powers are just repulsive. He does his grotesque body horror thing and nobody liked that. The subtitle [body stretching] is obscene to consider, especially when it's happening offscreen. This man made his hand into a balloon animal to comfort a child in hospital as if that isn't the most nightmarish hideous thing to show someone. He made a flesh balloon and then tied it into a fun shape. For kids. Everyone's first reaction to his power is a shocked scream. People see him and want to throw up. It's amazing. They made this man so body horrible. To match his personality <3

[highlordofkrypton]

batman equalizer au // chapter 3 - update

Read on AO3.

SUMMARY: Bruce Wayne is dead. In the wake of his death, he leaves a trail of bodies and the ruins of a city. He can’t do this anymore; he can’t be a man who uses justice as an excuse for violence, so he leaves it all behind. Now, a nobody in a nowhere town, he starts to like his mundane life—no heroism, no villains and no pain—until one day, injustice finds him. Heroes aren’t real, but sometimes, all people need is a knight.

Chapter 3 - hold up

Heavy steps echo in the late morning. Most of the children have run off to school, and the day shift started over an hour ago. Bruce takes his time, still early for his midday scheduling. He already knows who it is, just by the cadence of his climb up the stairs, altered slightly by exhaustion and quickly rectified once in sight of another person. Maybe the skip in his step is because he’s next to Bruce, and that, apparently, makes all the difference, if Jason’s assessment is to be trusted. 

(It isn’t. He’s a kid and a pain in Bruce’s ass.)

“Mornin’, Mister Kane.” Clark grins. Though his accent’s perfectly neutral, it’s the midwestern slang that gives him away. At times, he acts and sounds awfully like Barry.

Bruce locks up his door and turns to face his neighbour. Clark Kent is a large man. Massive, by all accounts, and he isn’t even standing tall. He’s slouching. Bruce has to tip his head slightly to meet his gaze. He tries to stop the way his brain analyzes Clark like an opponent, how it would take seconds to take him down, if the man has no training. Minutes, if he puts up a fight.

“How are ya?” Dark circles line his blue eyes, but they still dance with a joy reminiscent of a bright, sunny day. Along with his smile, the damn man’s happiness is blinding.

Bruce blinks back into the present. He offers his own muted smile. “Same as always.”

“Did’ya get the pie I left you? Jason said he was going to keep an eye on it. I offered him my place to wait, but he said he’d wait for you and guard the pie.” He motions towards his apartment.

“I did. Thank you for that.”

“Did you… Did you like it?” Sheepishness dances across his youthful features, and he glances away.

“I did. Family recipe?”

“Yeah, my mother’s.”

“You made her proud.”

“Thanks,” Clark smiles.

“But you already knew that,” Bruce teases him.

It leaves Clark with a furious blush on his face, too humble to even mistake for arrogant, which is why it makes him such an easy target for teasing. Bruce pats Clark on the shoulder on his way down. “You have a good day, now.”

“You too!”

Bruce doesn’t have to turn around to know he’s, somehow, made Clark’s day. He can feel the beaming at his back. He lets it go, carrying on his merry way to work.

Every day, it’s the same.

Erica stands at the door, welcoming him inside, along with a handful of customers into the store. He gives her a muted smile—his best one is a weapon, so he keeps it sealed, along with the life he left behind. The cousins are at customer service, shoving at each other because Kendra’s in today, and she is the prettiest thing they’ve ever seen.

“Boys,” he nods.

His apron awaits him in his cubby, but the punch-in computer isn’t working. Barry meets him right outside the employee room, glowing as bright as the lighting section.

“Hiya, Bruce. You’re gonna have to punch in up front. I tried to catch you, but I didn’t see you come in.”

“Sounds good,” he hums, heading to the front and letting Barry fall into step with him. “I’ve figured out your practical exam. Are you free the Saturday after the next?”

“I should be. What do you have in mind?”

“Just meet me at Newell Park around eleven.”

“Uh, okay, sure. Do I need to bring anything?”

“Just yourself and that big brain of yours.” 

Bruce smiles at Barry as they part ways. The cousins have to be shooed away from behind the counter. Not that Bruce has any power or sway over them; he just thinks their presence is needed elsewhere. He can’t imagine Kendra focusing with them distracting her; she looks distracted, so he squeaks behind her and looks over her shoulder patiently while she finishes up with the client.

Her shoulders tremble, and the customer looks up from his hat. His eyes are bloodshot and sweat trickles from behind his ear across a stupid, half-faded crocodile tattoo, and down into his dirty shirt collar. Bruce catalogues the grease beneath his fingers, and the bruises across his knuckles. Most importantly, he notes the gun hidden between the register and the edge of the counter.

“Open the fucking register. Make her do it,” he hisses at Bruce and Kendra.

It would take one moment of distraction—one of those errant seconds when this robber glances around to make sure no one is looking in their direction—for Bruce to disarm him. He wouldn’t even need the gun. The solidity of the register would work just fine. He would slam his head over, and over, and—

“I got it,” he tells Kendra softly, coaxing her to move aside so he can handle this.

Bruce opens the register and hands the man his money. Easy.

“Give me that bracelet,” the man snaps, staring at Kendra who has moved her hand to cover it.

“No, it’s my aunt’s.” The bracelet is a gold circlet, a hawk wrapped around her wrist. She balls her hands into a fist, so terribly angry that she trembles. She’s not afraid, Bruce can see the glint in her eyes of someone so young. It’s easy to think you’re invincible.

“Trust me.” Bruce touches her wrist. “It’s just stuff.”

She nods, but it’s still hard for her to relinquish it.

Blonde, blue eyes, around five seven, scars on the inside of his wrist. His mind catalogues the visual information presented to him—everything matters. The man’s gait as he runs out of the store indicates an injury, and he has never taken up running as an activity. (There is an optimal way to do it.) Calmly, he walks around the customer service desk, ignoring Kendra’s call for the cops, and exits the store. Bruce watches the 2001 slate gray mustang peel out of the parking lot—soft top, black rustproofing stains on the bottom of the passenger door, missing wheel cap on the rear right—and clocks the license plate. 

ZVD 6167.

The car veers to the right and drives right through the stop light.

Barry comes running up behind him.

“Bruce! Are you okay? What are you doing out here? Kendra said,” he trails, trying to follow Bruce’s gaze.

“I’m alright, just trying to see if I can get any information to give the cops.”

“Did you get anything?”

“I didn’t, sorry.”

When the cops come around, about thirty minutes after the event, Bruce gives his very best description of the culprit, but lets Kendra take the lead as he only got involved in the latter half of the interaction. He is polite and supportive, offering her a shoulder to lean on (or to punch for making her give up a family heirloom). 

It’s just stuff, he had told her.

Things can be replaced, people can’t. It’s that simple.

Stuff doesn’t stop him from wandering down the tools aisle, and picking up an Estwing 3 lb Drilling Hammer. He hovers at the rope section, and debates against it. He doesn’t pay for the hammer, it’ll be back by the next shift, anyway.

In the morning, when Kendra sets up her register despite her hammering heart and the way her blood boils thinking of what happened the day before, she finds her bracelet. It lays across the coins, shiny and polished, as if it never left her side.

[mr007pennyworth]

Feeding Barry Headcanon

“Is this a bad time to bring up my blood sugars?”

If there was one thing Bruce had to make sure he calculated for when he built the Justice League was making sure his speedster didn't go hungry. 

Money, was never the issue, the real issue came about making sure Barry had someone TO MAKE SURE he was eating enough to cope. 

On an average day, just from watching Barry consume a full 18 inch pizza by himself and a guess from looking at the details of some of the foods he’d listed online, that he and Alfred would have there hands full.

Well, more Alfred. 

Cue, Alfred. 

When Bruce explained Barry’s apatite to Alfred at first, he didn't quite see the issue, Bruce downed 3,500 calories a day most of it just proteins so, another mouth to feed wasn’t all that hard, Dick had been on the same by the time he’d hit 16. 

But when Bruce ran the simulation of Barry’s metabolism on the computer, they both began to panic. 

How was a boy his age managing to feed himself the MINIMUM of DOUBLE Bruce’s calories a day on his budget?!

Alfred came to the conclusion that unless Barry ate roughly 7,000 calories a day at minimum, he’d start losing weight. 

Bruce was in the trash in ten minutes, digging up the MacDonald's takeaway containers he’d bought Barry just that afternoon. 

He’d given the kid his card and said go. Now he sat here with the boxes of 3 Bigs Mac’s, 6 double cheeseburgers, 3 packets of large fries, 20 chicken nuggets, a black coffee, a large irn bru and 5 apple pies. That was roughly 9,087 calories from what they could add up from the nutritional info. 

That was LUNCH. That was...Barry’s minimum daily needs and only $50 out Bruce’s pocket. 

$50, was pretty much Barry’s budget for THREE days of meals not just one. 

Bruce went to argue with Barry that he needed to move in, Alfred managed to stop him. 

Barry was all grown up and had been independent for too long to allow Bruce to walk into his life and smother him. 

But something had to be done. 

It took awhile but Barry did move in with some carefully plying by Alfred and the Butler managed to start tracking his food intake.

By making sure Barry got 6 meals a day for his 7,000 calories out of Bruce’s pocket, letting Barry add the rest became routine. 

Breakfast, Brunch, Lunch, Afternoon Tea, Diner and Supper, Alfred was finally back to using his cook books that had been gathering dust. 

Each meal had to have 1,160 calories and 30g or more of proteins to be any use to Barry’s development. Now, Alfred could have just given the boy a lump of cash and let him go bonkers on fast food, but the fat’s and sugars were the bigger hurdles, as much as it met his calories and his proteins in meat from burgers...it didn’t meet everything else. 

Barry’s malnutrition he found didn’t just come from the lack of food, it was the lack of the RIGHT foods. Even though Alfred balanced all six of Barry’s meals a day to cater for vitamins and such it wouldn’t be enough in places, that was where medication would have to come in, now he finds one afternoon after offering the boy some ibuprofen, that they didn’t work, his metabolism swallowed the effects in just a few minutes. Even tripling the dose, it was out of his system in just 12 minutes. That ment that to account for the speed at which his body used it’s building blocks everything had to be at least TWENTY times the rate of a normal human every day just for Barry to get a close enough dose of his nutrition. 

To put into perspective, an average male needs 500ug of Vitamin D a day, thats...30 minutes of sun. Barry, on the other hand needed over 10,000 a day just to function. Something that was easily helped with him being able to travel, a couples of hours in Australia and he’d get a solid top up, but running back ment using his powers, ment burning his body’s reserves, it was one hell of a game. Tablets, were Alfred’s go to. Ten dissolvable multi vitamin tablets in a 2 liter bottle of OJ a day and Barry was good to go, with his meals included, Alfred was glad to see Barry starting to look better after the first few months. 

Until, he wasn’t.

Going to work without breakfast, had Alfred concerned, but he had his packed brunch and lunch, he had his extra cash for snacks. To find that the lunch had only been half eaten when he came home was massive question mark.

Dinner Time...he said he wasn’t hungry and Alfred had him dragged towards the cave in just a moment. 

Just the ONE day of not eating his minimum calories and all the work that they had progressed on was fading. Barry still as much as he’d gotten off his chest about the anniversary of his mothers death, refused to eat. 

IV’s it came too then. 

Dragging the boy back upstairs, he handed him off to Bruce who situated him in his room while Alfred set about getting Barry on some IV drips.

Barry muttered on about the fuss but didn't fight Bruce keeping him in the bed as Alfred put IV catheters in both arms. 6 bags of 20% dextrose fluids wouldn’t do the job his meals should have but it would prevent him from going hypoglycemic for the rest of the day. In the mean time, Bruce set about finding his weak spot, his food weak spot. Now Barry liked a lot of food, he liked many different foods and Bruce was pretty willing to pay anything for him to eat something. 

He returned a few hours later with takeaway Chinese food , Indian Food , Italian food as well as three large pizzas, Mexican food meals, nearly every MacDonald's burger, Fried Chicken bucket meals, Kebabs, 48 Krispy Kreme Dounuts, nine different 12 inch sub sandwiches, Frozen meals from several different supermarkets and even a huge three tier chocolate cake. Bruce had been about to run back out of the door when he recalled a Brazilian takeaway just outside of town as well as another chicken shop when Barry came out of his room pulling the IV stand with him woken up at all the kerfuffle Alfred was making. 

“Master Bruce it’s midnight I doubt the boy is going to eat”

Barry, pulling out the IV’s then sat down at the table quietly as they argued, looking over everything Bruce had bought him slightly shy of the money he could imagine he’d spent. A smile broke out on his face at the sight of the brown bag. 

“He’s just started gaining weight, Alf if he doesn't-” “I’m fully aware, Bruce look, one day won't kill him, the IV’s will hold on off the worst of the hypo-”

*crunch* 

They turned to see the boy happily munching prawn crackers. 

Alfred pretty much dropped to the sofa in relief. Bruce just started laughing before pulling out a chair to sit opposite the speedster who was now eyeing up the cake as he packed prawn crackers into one of kebabs. 

Nobody said a word until Barry had consumed at least five of the items on the table and paused for a can of lemonade. 

“Barry?”

The pup looks up to Alfred on the sofa who was sat with a cup of tea, paper work spread out across his lap as Bruce sat beside him with a his laptop. It was just past one one in the morning. 

“Promise me something?”

Barry paused in reaching for the rice pot next to the Korma to indicate he was listening. “When this happens again, you’ll tell me when you’ll eat again before giving us a heart attack won’t you?”

The younger nodded and fought the laugh he almost made at Bruce getting whacked with the folder in Alfred’s hand at his old man response. 

Suddenly, Curry wasn't what he wanted. He’d had a kebab, a pizza, three burgers, a subs sandwich and a whole bucket of chicken...he needed something sweet, picking up one of the boxes of dounuts he pads over to the sofa dropping himself between Alfred and Bruce who shared an intrigued look, Barry picks a dounut before pushing the box into Alfred’s lap with a cheeky smirk. 

Alfred sighs, the boys puppy brown eyes were too hard to resist and picks one out putting it in his mouth before passing the box back over to Bruce, the vigilante grimaced and went to give them back but caught Barry’s look of confusion. 

“Okay, okay, just one, I guess it won’t ruin my diet” 

Grabbing the remote, Alfred passes it to Barry as he puts away the paperwork, Bruce does the same tucking away the laptop and watches as Barry flicks for a movie. 

“Coffee, Dounuts and bad horror movies at one in the morning...I guess it beats being out in the rain eh” Bruce laughs licking chocolate off his fingers as Barry snuggles into Alfred’s side. 

“It’s perfect” Barry smiles around a mouthful of dounut, pulling a face as Alfred goes to wipe the caramel dripping off his chin. 

Feeding Barry was always going to be a challenge, but for our vigilante and Butler Dad, it was worth it just to see him happy. 

[greekowl87]

Fic: After Shock

A/N: I feel like I haven’t had time to breathe since I started the new job and my anxiety has made it so I haven’t been sleeping a lot either. I haven’t been writing either. So decided to rewatch ‘Wetwire’ after some friends were just rewatching and tried to bust out a quick fic. It took two weeks.I don’t know where my head took me with this. Taggin @90saolchatroom because it was one of her comments that started this idea.

P.S. I also make a reference to another fic I wrote called Sure. Fine. Whatever. Also, @90saolchatroom‘s headcanon was also the source of inspiration that well. Heck, she was the inspiration for these fics period.

P.P.S. No beta so mucho apologies for the typos. Between lack of sleep and getting used to the new job, I’m sorry.

Tagging @today-in-fic @baronessblixen @improlificinsarcasm

Scully was free to leave the hospital after a few days of observation with her mother dogging her at each step. She couldn’t blame her, especially after what had happened. Fears of trust and betrayal. Rushing to the only place where she thought she had left. Pointing a gun at her partner. Breaking down in her mother’s arms still grasping her weapon, afraid to give up control. She remembered feeling Mulder’s sad gaze linger as her mother soothed Scully. 

The same moment had entirely had been mirrored months previously with Modell control Mulder and point a gun at her. The pain Mulder realized he couldn’t control his own actions. And then with her, she had shown just the opposite. Fear. True fear. What an odd twist of fate. In shared moments of desperation, both had almost shot their respective partners. Except for this time, something resonated deeply in Scully’s heart. A deep ache that hadn’t healed.

After many promises to call Maggie Scully in the morning and assurances that Scully would be fine in her Georgetown apartment, her mother left shortly before ten. The paranoia was still fresh in her mind, however, that was one side effect she hated from the entire experience. She could remember everything. Logically, she knew there was nothing to be afraid of but that would stop checking the locks on all of her windows and triple checking the lock on her front door. Satisfied that she was safe, Scully retreated to her bathroom to draw a long bath in an effort to relax.

It still bothered Scully that she could have let herself think that: Mulder had betrayed her and broken their deeply earned trust in one another. As she slid beneath the steaming water and bubbles, she flashed back over the past three years. Tooms trying to kill her in her bathroom. Duane Barry breaking through her living room windows that lead to abduction. Then to chasing Mulder down to Puerto Rico and staying with him even after news of Melissa taking the bullet meant for her. 

Scully flinched in memory, a twinge of regret. It should have been her instead of her sister. When Missy and her mother had needed her, she was with Mulder, chasing the Truth with a capital ‘t’, finding her name amongst endless files that should not exist.

But in the hospital room, when Scully arrived at a vacant bed, it was Mulder who wordlessly held her hand in that empty hospital room and then hugged her as she became adrift with grief. But during all this, during these past three years, Scully had come to trust him more than she would have thought possible. But now that regret and anxiety lingered over her current actions. Had she destroyed it? What they had? What was there left to go back to?

Unable to help herself, Scully climbed out to tub, draining the water, and reached for her cordless phone. It was near midnight but she knew Mulder to be up. The man hardly slept. After she dialed his number and reaching is answering machine, she decided to get dressed and drive to Old Town Alexandria, her conscience weighing heavier by the minute. The midnight drive took longer than she would have liked and parking being worse than she imagined. She turned up the radio in an effort to drown out her thoughts as she parked the car. Scully could go back home and pretend she was okay for the next time they saw each other at the office on Friday morning or she could do something.

**************

Scully found herself in front of apartment number 42 with her hand poised to knock but the door was quickly pulled open. “I saw you parking from the window,” Mulder greeted her softly. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

Scully tried to look beyond her tall partner and saw a reading lamp on, heard The Cranberries playing, and no blue tv light. “Um, no.” She refocused her gaze. “Um...I called and it went straight to voicemail. I was, uh…”

“Did you? I must’ve missed it. I ran out to get some food. Are you hungry?”

He stepped away from the entryway and opened the door wider so she could come in. “So no tv tonight?” 

He lowered the volume on his stereo. “I thought I would take a break from watching tv, given recent events.”

She chuckled. “Don’t stop on account of me.” Mulder disappeared into the kitchen as Scully picked the book he had been reading up off the table. “I could tell you the ending to the book your reading, Mulder.”

“I thought I would give it a go since I remind you so much of the title character. You remember our conversation when you wrecked the boat,” Mulder laughed from the kitchen. Scully looked down at the library copy of Moby Dick fondly. “And don’t ruin it.”

“Some coincidence, Mulder.”

“I guess.” He came back out with two cans of soda and one hand and two plates balanced precariously on his other arm like a waiter. “I think I remembered. Beef and broccoli with white rice instead of noodles because you want to be healthier, sweet and sour chicken for me and one single egg roll for you.”

“Mulder, that’s our normal Chinese order. I wasn’t planning on coming over tonight.”

“Call it initiation.” He paused and shrugged. “I must have done it out of habit. Now that I have, we can’t let it go to waste can we?”

“I suppose not,” Scully conceded

“So,” Mulder began, passing her the plate, “are you feeling any better? Not gonna draw your weapon at me if the rice isn’t hot enough?”

“Mulder, please don’t. I feel bad enough as it is what happens.” She sighed, looking at the food. “I still feel ashamed.”

“Scully, you can’t let it eat you like that,” he answered. “You weren’t in your right mind. Just like when Modell controlled me. We had no control over the situation.”

They sat on the leather couch so close that they were touching. Scully moved slightly in an effort to make it less awkward. She shoveled the Chinese around on the plate. “I feel like I did, in some way. Why would it make me believe that you had betrayed me?”

“It prayed on our worst fears. I guess,” he paused in thought, “I guess my betrayal is one of yours.”

“Well, it’s true. I thought you would actually betray me, kill me...I can’t believe I let myself accuse you of those things.” She shook her head in disgust. “Mulder, how can you be okay with this? Be mad. Do something. Anything!”

“Scully,” Mulder sighed, “please don’t.” She set the plate in front of her, unable to eat. He sighed and took her hand without thinking. “Please don’t let us go down that road. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“How could you be so forgiving, Mulder? I pointed a gun at you. I’ve shot you before, don’t forget!”

“Did you forget I did this same to you not a few months ago?” And he smiled sadly. “And you shot me because I was out of my mind. You saved me, remember? Who else could perform surgery both with a pistol and scalpel?” She bit her lip and tried to pull her hand away. Mulder did not let her hand go. “Neither were you. So why do you hold yourself to a set of different standards than everyone else, Scully? I’m allowed to make mistakes but you aren’t?”

“I can’t afford to be,” she answered after a few moments. She gave up fighting. “I can’t afford to be because I have to prove just as much as the next guy.”

“Not to me, remember? You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“But I accused you of…”

“You weren't in the right state of mind or have you forgotten? Let it go, Scully. Now eat something before your dinner gets cold.”

Mulder forced the plate into her hand and took a few bites of his own meal. After a moment’s hesitation, Scully followed suit. They continued to eat in silence as The Cranberries played. How could he be so forgiving of her?

 “So what’s next?” She asked as she finished her Chinese. “For us?”

Mulder shrugged and picked up the plates. “I’m not letting you travel again tonight, that’s for sure. I know you just got out of the hospital, but it would give me peace of mind. And I don’t fancy your mother’s wrath when she learns you are out and about.”

“You’re no better than my mother. I’m fine, Mulder.”

He knew a losing battle when he saw it when it came to his partner. Her independence and stubbornness matched his own. “Well, at least let me drive you home, using your car and I will catch a cab back here.”

“Mulder, you don’t have to baby me,” she said.

“I’m not babying you. I…” Mulder sighed. “I just worry about you, Scully. And care. That’s all. I’d prefer you stay here honestly. I just want to make sure you are okay.”

For a moment, Scully let her guard down. Maybe she was still tired of everything from the previous ordeal or maybe it was more. Maybe she was just tired of more than the most recent life or death situation. “And what sleep on your couch? It isn’t necessarily that big.”

“I have a seldom-used bedroom, aka the guest room as I call it. You can stay there.”

“Mulder, I’m fine.” She stifled a yawn and wiped the sleep from her eyes. “If you want to mother hen me then come back with me to Georgetown and I will call you a cab. I just want to be in my own bed.”

“Fair enough. I think you may have wasted your gas coming out here.”

“I got a free meal out of it.” 

Scully was mentally panicking. This was not going anyway she had planned. She did not feel any better about the situation. More than anything, she needed to run. Mulder reached for her hand again, and for the second time that night, he grounded her and brought her racing thoughts back to a standstill. “Scully, just stay the night. I won’t bite and you would ease my fears.”

“Mulder, I'm fine.”

“I know you are but I’m not. I worry about you, Scully.”

After a moment’s consideration, she gave into Mulder’s request. Not for her sake of course, but for him. She did remember Missy confiding how much her abduction almost destroyed him. “Okay, Mulder,” she relented. She held up a finger conditionally. “But only for tonight.”

“You got it, Scully.”

He had that boyish smile on his face and nodded towards her. “I don’t suppose you would mind if I run out to my car to grab my overnight bag?”

“Since when did you start carrying an overnight bag with you?”

“When you started to call me at odd hours to travel halfway across the country.” Something flashed in his eyes. “It wasn’t meant as an insult,” she added hastily.

“I know, Scully,” he said softly. “I’ll go make up the bed for you.”

She collected her shoes to grab her bag out of her car before taking the elevator back up to his apartment. In the back of her mind, since she had arrived at Mulder’s apartment, the entire ordeal felt off. She thought driving over Mulder’s apartment would ease some of her own worries and doubt but this entire situation was spiraling out of control. She did not know if she felt comfortable with that at all. 

She turned the doorknob to find the door in Mulder’s living room open. She heard him moving about the rarely sed room. “I hope you don’t mind the clutter,” he called. Scully stood in the doorway and watched him. “Sheets are clean. The bathroom’s through there.” He gestured at the lit doorway opposite of him. “Can you think of anything else?”

“No, I don’t think so, Mulder. I can still go home and get out of your hair.”

“You’ll do no such thing, Scully. If it makes you feel better, I won’t say anything else about the matter.”

He adjusted the quilt on the bed and gave her one last smile. “Goodnight, Scully. And I’m glad you decided to stay.”

She bit her lip as he shut the door behind him. Scully suddenly felt trapped and at odds with the war of doubt that had been brewing in her head. Hell, that was the whole reason why she had made the trek to Alexandria to begin with. Now, here she was, a prisoner in Mulder’s rarely used bedroom. She could make a run for it and go back to Georgetown, but she was tired. Scully decided that she would likely have trouble sleeping even in her own bed and decided to spend the night and try and make the best of a crappy situation.

**************

The second time Scully woke up, she was disoriented and it took a moment for her to gain her bearings. The dimly lit alarm clock revealed it was 3:14 a.m. The unfamiliar bed felt foreign and she could not get comfortable. She tossed and turned before giving up and turning on the lamp. Boxes upon boxes surrounded her and in the dim light, she caught words like textbooks, photos, Samantha, and research. She shifted her attention and saw a dim light coming from the door that separated the bedroom and living room. She couldn’t hear the tv.

With curiosity biting at her, she got out a foreign bed and creaked the bedroom door open. Scully shivered and grabbed a spare blanket off the bed to wrap around her shoulders. She found Mulder wide awake lying on his couch, staring at some fixed point within his fish tank. The mollies swam back and forth and he sighed. “Am I keeping you up, Scully?”

“No,” she answered softly. “I just woke up. You know I have trouble sleeping in different beds sometimes.”

Mulder pushed himself up and patted the leather couch beside him invitingly. “Come sit with me.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was already up, Scully.” He gave her a tired smile. “I can turn on a light or something.”

“No, this is fine.” She sat gingerly on the couch next to him. “I just have been having trouble sleeping since this entire ordeal. That’s why I tried to call earlier tonight. And why I came here.” She shrugged and Mulder tugged at the blanket fondly. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine,” he chuckled. “I remember having the same problem after Modell.”

“What problem?”

“The lack of sleep.” He crossed his legs and rested them on the coffee table. “Well, worse than usual. I kept seeing the gun and your face. More than anything it was your eyes, Scully that always woke me up.”

“My eyes?”

He nodded and glanced at her. “It is what you mentioned yourself. Betrayal of trust. I just remember the pain in your eyes.” Mulder sighed. “I know that this...little crusade of mine has cost us both.”

Scully maneuvered the blanket around her shoulders and cast it over both of them. Mulder smiled gratefully in the dim light. She brought her knees to her chest and rested her head against her bicep. “I know,” she murmured.

“I should’ve have protected you better,” he confessed softly. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “The night on Skyline Mountain. The light. You were gone.”

“But I came back.”

“Because they decided they could bring you back to prove a point.”

“Mulder,” she whispered, “I’m not Samantha.”

“I know,” he replied. “You Scully. My Scully.” The way he repeated her surname sounded like an endearment. “But still...I can’t help but think that your sister would be alive if it wasn’t for me.”

The silence was deafening. 

“Missy said everything happens for a reason, Mulder. One Christmas, when I was still in medical school, she came home. We went to Old Town Alexandria. Not too far from here. We had a girls' night. I was drunk. She was drunk. We both decided to do palm readings from this little place on the second story off King Street next to a tobacco shop.”

He chuckled. “You, Scully? A palm reading?”

“It was her idea and I was too drunk to disprove it.” Mulder chuckled again. “What?”

“Next time we discuss one of my theories, I’ll bring the whiskey.”

She smiled and moved closer to him to the point they were almost touching. “Missy went first,” she continued, ignoring his loaded comment, “and the fortune she had, well, it was a good thing we were both drunk.”

“What was her fortune?”

“Missy was told she would die young. The fortune-teller specifically said 33 years old.”

“Scully…”

She held up a finger. “But, in the afterlife, she would do her most beneficial work.”

Mulder recalled the night he thought about taking his own life during Scully’s abduction and it was Melissa Scully that had interrupted that horrible attempt. But it was her that made him believe Scully was still there, even if she was in a coma.

“Do you think she is watching over you now?” he whispered.

“I like to think so,” Scully replied. “But what was ironic was my own fortune that strikes a chord...well, at the time.”

“What do you mean?”

“We were both drunk that night and I haven’t actually thought of it until now.”

“What about it?” He moved so he could face her. After a moment, he took her hand and lounged backward. She fought him initially but relented after a few minutes. It was much cozier than just sitting on the couch. “Just relax.”

“This is very unprofessional.”

“Since when is anything we did professional?”

Mulder’s hand drifted to the small of her bag and she relaxed. His fingertips grazed her bare skin giving her shivers. He pulled the blanket up around them. She relaxed. “Tell me what your fortune was?”

“I would meet my other half,” she confessed after a long moment.

“Really?”

“Quit making fun of me.”

“I’m not.”

Scully nuzzled his cotton shirt and breathed deeply. The familiar scent of whatever was ‘Mulder’ wafted through her nose. As she reflected on the fortune she had been told, at the time, she thought it meant Daniel but now, after going through the past few years, and Missy’s prodding. Maybe it meant someone else.

“But yeah. False promises on soulmates.”

“I wouldn’t call it a false promise or false fortunes.” He moved a stray piece of hair out of her face. “Maybe you just haven’t met him yet.”

“Maybe.”

His fingers drifted up under her top towards the rest of her back. “It was the trust,” she whispered. He was distracting her. She couldn’t collect her thoughts. “I feel like, after everything, I can only trust you because you know. You understand. I call you first. Then my mother. Or my brothers.”

“So when you thought I betrayed you, you went to the next place?”

“My mother’s.”

Mulder rested his forehead against hers. “You know that I would never do anything to you, Scully. Right?”

“I know, Mulder.”

She licked her lips and kissed him before she could stop herself. Mulder broke away, smiled, and attacked with renewed vigor. Words were lost between them as useless couch cushions were pushed off and Scully gained leverage to straddle his waist. Wait. No. So many no’s flashed through her head but she could not stop herself. It was an urge to feel safe, to trust, and to know that someone was there for her. Mulder was that person. But she felt the rising pressure between her legs that came from Mulder.

“We shouldn’t,” she warned.

“I know,” he breathed.

“So much could go wrong.”

“I know.”

But neither one of them made an effort to stop themselves. “Scully, we can go a step further or we can stop this. I don’t want it to stop. Tell me what you want?”

She slid slowly off his hips and gathered the blanket. “I should, uh, go back to bed. I’m sorry for what just happened.”

“Scully…” he called. 

She disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door, her last barrier to keep her from losing herself control. After the most recent episode with fearing Mulder’s betrayal and being prepared to shoot him in the face. But to her utter horror, Mulder was trailing her. The door opened with a bang and she jumped. “Jesus, Mulder.”

“Please, hear me out. Is it something I did?”

“No,” she breathed. “We just can’t, Mulder. I had a moment, that is all.”

“A moment,” he repeated. “That wasn’t a moment. You can trust me, Scully. I promise I won’t betray you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She brought the blanket around her shoulders instinctively like a shield. Childhood memories of distrust flashed in her head, one of the reasons why she became so private of a person as an adult. But here he was, invading her personal space just like he did the first day they met. He cupped her cheek. Her eyes closed as he gently stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Sometimes, I don’t know who to trust but I know, deep down, I always can trust you.”

“You can trust me now.”

Scully nodded into his hand. Mulder took that as a sign and gently leaned forward to kiss her soundly. The kiss sent electricity through every part of her body and unconsciously, she grasped both of his hands and held on tightly. Mulder deepened the kiss. At that moment, they were both lost. It was something about being able to trust someone with your entirety, body, mind, and soul, and not have to worry about any fears or repercussions. Just because you knew. You trusted them. The blanket fell from her shoulders. Mulder’s warm hands crept under her shirt and she shivered. They were so close to one another.

“Scully, please.” He sounded like he was begging. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

She closed her eyes, bit her lip, and give him the slightest nod. He was reverent in his movements as he let his fingers trail down her back slowly as if memorizing her. She bowed her head forward and willed herself to move, to do something. Finally, she regained control of her hands and gently peeled off his tee-shirt. She saw the puckered scar on his shoulder that still looked fresh despite it being over a year old.  He smiled slightly and kissed her tenderly. The first time Scully had let herself imagine this scenario, she imagined he would be much more vigorous in his efforts, almost like one of his films. But so fair, he kept surprising her.

“I know,” she whispered.

She walked them backwards until the back of her knees met the mattress. “It’s been a while,” she whispered.

“Same here.”

Scully felt all sorts of insecurity which she thought buried long ago bubble up. As if sensing those insecurities, he kissed her brow encouragingly and she relented. She pulled off her top in one movement and he swallowed hungrily. The small bulge earlier took on a new life. 

 “I know I’m not like…”

“You’re perfect,” he breathed.

She was tired of fighting and without hesitation, she lunged forward to kiss him, and then guide him back onto the bed. Like explorers charting the unknown lands, they began their newest adventure. He left a trail of kisses like breadcrumbs down her shoulder blades and down the valley of her breasts. She shivered at the soft touches from his lips. “I wouldn’t go that far,” she murmured. 

She leaned back into the pillows taking him with her. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Scully,” he breathed. He took a moment to meet her gaze. “I want you to trust me. I want to be the only one that you trust. More than friends.”

“I remember, Mulder.” She played with his hair. “But that was then, this is now. Things have changed between us.”

“That little small town wasn’t that long ago,” he countered.

He was intent on just lazily kissing her right now. She didn’t seem to mind. “But again, neither one of us was in our right mind.”

He paused and rolled to the side so he could watch her. “The planets hadn’t aligned properly.”

“Not then anyways.”

Mulder propped his head upon his left arm so he could watch her. Despite the wall of boxes in the unused bedroom, he had left the sole window free and clear. The blinds were half open and she could see the streetlights and shadows dance across his face. “I know you said you were ashamed during your little episode but you shouldn’t be.”

“How weren’t you affected by it?”

His hand traced down her smooth abdomen in thought and played with the elastic of her pajama pants. “Hmm? Oh. I’m red-green colorblind and according to the Gunmen, it was something like that causing it.” He saw her raised eyebrow. “In one eye. A childhood accident or something?” He switched winking at her with each eye. “My right eye is fine. My left eye...not so much.” He opened both eyes and smiled. “I can still tell you’re hair is red, not green, but it isn’t as vibrant with both eyes versus just my right eye. Now you blue eyes? Those stand out. Isn’t that funny how that is a thing?”

She chuckled. “I can think of any number of reasons how you might have become color blind in one eye, though extremely rare…” She sighed at the sensation as any rational thoughts escaped her as Mulder found her mons. “Jesus, it’s been too long.”

“Good vibrations,” Mulder sang off-key, “I’m picking up good vibrations.”

Scully laughed at Mulder’s horrible rendition of The Beach Boys before she was silenced by one of his kisses. His hand moved with an independent mind of its own as he experimented with a kiss or a slight tug on her earlobe. Each new sensation caused her to gasp and move under him or buck towards him. “Mulder, enough play.”

His fingers dipped into the ‘v’ of her thighs. “Yes, ma’am,” he answered.

They awkwardly peeled away the remains of their clothes and with unspoken communication, they sealed their union. It was quick, awkward, but all at the same time, unforgettable. Afterward, entangled together like a sailor’s knot, beneath the lightly used blankets, they lay together. It started to rain and Mulder nuzzled her neck and whispered. “You can trust me, Scully...if nothing else, we will always have each other.”

“We’ve been some dark roads,” she whispered into the night air. Mulder coiled around her. “I fear it’s only going to get worse.”

“Mmm.” He vibrated all around her and she tried to pull him closer. “While it may, you'll always have someone to trust.”

“Where does this leave us, Mulder?” she whispered.

“We’re good,” he whispered.  “We’re fine. Nothing will change.”

“We just…”

He silenced her with another kiss and she melted against him. She was tired of being unable to trust anyone and the weight of their work felt crushing in moments like this. “We’re okay, Scully. We’re going to be okay.”

“Do you trust me?”

Scully breathed deeply and tried to memorize the moment. Mulder around her. The unused bedroom that had become their private sanctuary. The rain outside beating against the window. The streetlights and the wind moving their branches. He pulled the blankets around them.

“Yes,” Scully answered. “I trust you.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: An Internal Affair - Chapter 18 (Ao3 link)

Fandom: The Flash Pairing: Leonard Snart/Barry Allen

Summary: Leonard Snart, the CCPD Captain of Internal Affairs, is known as Captain Cold for a very good reason: He hates corrupt cops with a merciless vengeance, and once you’re on his list, you’re in serious trouble.

His next target?

A CCPD lab tech named Barry Allen who’s developed a suspicious habit of disappearing at random intervals.

—————————————————————————————————

Barry is watching TV.

Yes, damnit, his boyfriend who he's in love with just left him (rightfully) over crimes he didn't even realize he was committing, he's having to rethink his entire system of morality because clearly the current version isn't up to the task, his foster-dad just got arrested, his new friends aren't talking to him because they're too busy scrambling as the police raid their apartments, he hasn't heard anything from Iris, the man who killed his mom and is probably a Family hitman is still at large and he's way too depressed to do anything about it -

But at least Mel and Sue sure are enjoying stealing bites from those yummy-looking biscuits that are probably a bit under-proofed.

Barry's life might be falling apart, but The Great British Bake-Off will never hurt him.

...yeah, things are bad.

Barry concedes this, but he also has no idea what he can do about it, so he's just going to sit here and watch television at regular speed like a normal person and, he’s not sure, maybe hold out hope for a sign from above or something.

"Barry!" Iris shouts, bursting in through his apartment door, closely followed by -

"Len?" Barry yelps, sitting straight up and disappearing into his room to put on something slightly sexier than his beloved oversized 'Runaway Dinosaur' shirt and shorts set that Iris got him years ago as a joke.

He reappears a second later in sweatpants and a button-down, which will just have to do because apparently that's all he has that's clean right now.

Len is here.

Len is -

Len is stealing a spoonful of Barry's Phish Food ice cream that he’s been eating instead of lunch.

"Hey!" Barry exclaims.

"Seriously?" Iris says, crossing her arms.

"I need sugar," Len says primly. "Hypoglycemia is a serious issue."

Iris rolls her eyes.

Len's smirk fades. "Barry, we need your help."

"What happened?" Barry asks at once. Len wouldn't be here for anything less than an absolute crisis - that much was painfully clear by the way things were left between them, with Len rushing out of STAR Labs, pale-faced, and the police showing up to talk to everyone the next day.

So whatever happened must have been serious.

"Wells took Eddie," Iris says. "And Mick."

"I - Wells?"

"You remember how Ramon theorized that Wells actually was the Man in Yellow rather than simply employing him?" Len asks, looking grim. "We've just confirmed that."

Crap. It’s not that Barry didn’t trust Cisco – even though it is sort of weird that he remembers the day-lost-to-time-travel when no one else does – but the idea of Wells being the Man in Yellow...

Barry’d always thought of Wells as being incredibly kind. A mentor. A trusted friend.

Turns out that was a lie from the very beginning.

"He was blurring his features at first, so we weren’t sure about it at first," Iris says, preempting the question Barry was about to ask. "But he stopped doing that after Len shot him in the face with the cold gun."

After Len –

What?!

"You shot Wells in the face with the cold gun?! Wells? Professor Harrison Wells?"

"In my defense, he was A, about to kill us all and B, not recognizable as Wells at the time," Len says dryly. "But yeah, I shot him, Iris and Thawne ran, and then he -"

Len's voice cuts off suddenly, and he closes his eyes briefly in undisguised pain.

Barry’s never seen him react to anything like that. Not anything except –

Except Mick.

His best friend. His Iris.

Barry's chest hurts, seeing Len suffer like this. Even after everything Len did, to him and to his friends, even after all the chaos and disaster that's happened...

He's still desperately in love with the man.

"He took Eddie and Mick and disappeared," Iris says, brutal in her practicality. There are tears shining in her eyes, tear-tracks still on her face, but she’s clearly moved beyond the point of crying. She’s on the warpath, and Barry knows exactly how dangerous an enraged Iris West can be. "We still don't know why he only took them -"

"I can only carry two people at top speed," Barry says. "I get stronger when I’m running, I can carry more weight than a normal person, but just as a practical matter I still only have two arms. If he's the same as me -"

"Why not just kill Snart, though?" Iris asks. "He was literally right there."

"Why run up and show me that he's still around, just to rub my face in the fact that he's faster?" Barry asks, feeling bitter. He knows why, now: because he tried to do something, anything, other than running faster and faster. He dared argue back, dared to stand up to Wells over wanting to focus on his work as a CSI, and he’d thought that Wells had accepted it. Sure, maybe not in good grace, but accepted it. Instead, Wells had just decided to dangle the Man in Yellow in front of him like a cat toy – here, have a prize, all you need to do is jump a little bit higher, run a little bit faster and you’ll get it. And it worked, too. "If we know anything about him, it's that he likes to play with people. Ruin their lives. You hurt him; he wants to hurt you. Just killing you wouldn’t be enough – he wants you to suffer."

"That'd explain why he'd take Mick," Len says quietly, his voice heavy. "But - why Thawne? Wouldn't Iris be a better target, if he's ultimately aiming at you?"

"Probably," Barry says, frowning. "I honestly have no clue why he'd take Eddie. Unless -"

"Unless what?" Iris asks.

Barry winces. "Hopefully nothing," he says. "But, it's just - okay, this is kind of weird, but, you see, if anything, trying to get me and Iris together was just about the only thing other than me getting faster that Wells cared about."

“Ugh, seriously?” Iris says. “Sorry, Bar, I love you, you know that, but I am just so sick and tired of people trying to make my romantic decisions for me.”

“No, I know, I got the message,” Barry says, smiling crookedly at her. He’s surprised – it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, hearing Iris blithely dismiss the possibility of the two of them together.

He’s finally accepted it. He’s finally gotten over Iris.

And all it took to do it was to fall in love with a man who broke his heart, and Barry can't even blame him for it.

"First he targets your mom, then he targets you, and now your love life...sounds like you've got a stalker," Len says. "A creepy, obsessed stalker that moves at super-speed."

"Seems like it," Barry says, making a face.

"You have to help us figure out what happened, Bar," Iris says. "If the three of us work together, we can find Eddie and Mick, stop Wells, and make sure the Families don't get away with - with whatever it is they're up to!"

Barry looks at Len, who isn't looking at him. "I don't mind helping," he says. "If - Len..?"

"We're not okay," Len says abruptly. "We're not. You still...what you did...Listen, I know I might’ve - reacted in a rather extreme way, yes, but -"

"You were right," Barry says, interrupting. "You were totally right. What we were doing was wrong, and the fact that Wells was encouraging all of us not to think about it is no excuse at all. We're all adults. We should accept the consequences of our actions."

Len seems - surprised, almost. Like he thought Barry would try to defend himself, or deflect, or make excuses.

Barry won't.

For once in his life, he won't run.

It's the ethical thing to do. It's the sort of thing that someone - that someone Len could be proud of would do.

The sort of someone Barry wants to be.

Len nods, slowly. "Okay," he says. "Let's work together. Let's figure this out." Then he wrinkles his nose. "Fuck, I hate mysteries."

"You're a detective!" Iris exclaims.

Barry snickers. He can't help it: her face is just so hilariously offended.

"I became a cop because I like justice," Len tells her crossly. "Not because I like mysteries. Mysteries are pests; they get in the way of justice."

God, Len's so damn cute it hurts sometimes.

Mostly because Barry had that, and then lost it.

"Anyway, back to the main issue," Len says. "We don’t have much time –”

“We don’t? Wait, have we figured out what the Families are doing?”

“No, not quite,” Iris says. “But Eddie and I figured out that the Familes' ‘big day’ is going to go down on Election Day.”

“Wait, Election Day? That’s tomorrow!”

“We know,” Len says dryly. “Iris, go to the precinct and find Danvers. Get her up to date and keep going on that Zoom Contracting company, find out where that money is coming from, including whether its income is all Family money, and if so which Family. Check if some of it comes from somewhere else, too – and if it’s paid out any money recently. Bribes, specifically."

"Ask Terri to help you," Barry interjects. "They're a CSI, over at the lab; they're the best forensic accountant in the state."

"Do that," Len agrees. "Danvers also knows my passcode for the cardboard brigade, squeeze 'em for everything you can get. I want to know what’s going on, where, when, how, and right now Wells is our best lead on that. Throw away all discretion; go at it with both barrels. In the meantime, Barry and I'll follow up on the Dibny angle -"

"Wait, Dibny?" Iris asks. "That guy Barry hated so much?"

"Yeah, him," Barry says. "We think he might be acting - or being used, anyway - as a go-between to send messages from Family to corrupt cops. I'm sorry, I don't think I mentioned him to you before – it wasn’t on purpose, I wasn’t hiding it –"

"No, no, it's not that," she says, frowning in thought. "You definitely didn't mention it, but it’s weird. I swear I heard his name recently.”

“You heard his name?” Barry asks, surprised. “Where? Who in the world would be talking about him?”

“They were angry,” Iris says, her nose scrunched up in thought, trying to pull out the memory.

“Not at the CCPD, then,” Len says. “They tend to be angrier at the people doing the prosecuting than the cops doing the cheating. Think about the context of the memory – where have you been in the last few days?”

“God, I don’t know,” she says. “I haven’t been doing anything but police stuff the last few days – I’m staying with Eddie, Wally’s with us, but it wasn’t either of them. And other than the precinct, the only place I’ve been...wait, I know!”

“Well?”

“It was when Eddie and I were doing research in the mayor’s office,” Iris says. “Those dusty old archives – we’d gone to look for more on Zoom Contracting, complaints, records, anything. It was our first stop.”

“The fact that it’s a good place to make out had nothing to do with that being your first stop,” Len says, sounding amused.

“We just got engaged, we’re allowed to prioritize for things like that,” Iris says primly. “But seriously, I remember it now –someone mentioned his name in an angry voice as they walked by the archives room. I remember thinking about how hearing it would’ve made Barry start up his usual rant again if he’d been there.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“The weird thing is, though,” she continues, frowning , “that particular area’s restricted – Eddie only got us in by flashing his badge around. The only people around would’ve been the mayor and his staff. Barry, does this Dibny guy have any connection to the mayor?"

"The mayor? No, I don't -" Barry pauses.

That's not quite right, though, is it? When he'd gone over to see Dibny, asking about corruption cases, Dibny initially thought he was looking for stuff about blackmail, and then he’d hidden a folder -

And he'd asked about the mayor.

It clicks.

"Holy crap, guys," Barry says. "I think Dibny might be blackmailing the mayor."

"...well, then," Len says after a long moment, his expression rather perturbed. "Think we'd better go talk to him, then, don't you think?"

"Have fun with that, boys," Iris says, rolling her eyes and heading out the door.

Leaving them alone. Together.

It's suddenly awkward in a way it's never been for them before, the air in the room suddenly fraught with tension.

God, Len is so beautiful - beautiful and right and not Barry's.

And it’s all Barry’s fault.

"Okay," Barry says, breaking the silence. "Want me to run us to Dibny's office? Will you be okay?"

"Haven't torn anything recently," Len says with a shrug, because he’s an idiot who doesn’t take proper care of himself. Barry wants to chastise him, but he can’t; he knows he can’t. Len’s not his to worry about anymore. "So I'll manage. But –”

“But?”

“Maybe put on something slightly more formal first?"

A few super-speed seconds of digging uncover a better set of pants that are clean enough, and then they're off.

The hallway to Dibny's office is just as grubby as Barry remembers it, though luckily free of Family members.

Len seems unperturbed by their shabby surroundings, but then again his accent makes it clear that he grew up in slums far worse than this neighborhood.

God. Barry wants to ask him about it – about his past, about growing up in the slum, about everything. Was this like what you knew when you were a kid? Better? Worse? How have things changed? Does it hurt you to come here? Or does it feel like climbing back into your worst old rattiest set of pajamas, like coming home even though you know intellectually that it’s awful?

Barry thought he’d have all the time in the world to ask those questions.

Those questions, and more.

He’d dreamed, soft and secret and deep down where he wouldn’t tell anyone about it, that he’d have a whole lifetime to ask those questions.

But no.

Just because Barry’s in love with Len doesn’t mean – doesn’t mean Len feels the same way.

All hope of that’d been extinguished right alongside his trust in Barry.

At least Barry has this much: Len still trusts him enough to work with him. A colleague, an ally, maybe even – one day – a friend again.

It’s not what Barry wants, not at all; he wants so much more than that. But if this is all Barry can get, then he’ll take it and he’ll never let it go.

He’ll be the sort of man that Len deserves to have as a friend.

"Any thoughts before we go in?" Barry asks.

"You know Dibny better than me," Len says. "I don’t think I know him at all – he joined the force well after the point where I was officially not on talking terms with any cops except org crime’s undercover people, and he was gone before I got back. You take the lead to start; I’ll jump in if there’s anything I feel I need to add."

Barry nods.

Dibny doesn't do the pretentious chair-swirl when Barry walks in this time, just startles a bit from where he's standing by the window. He has a view of the street, so he's probably just surprised that he didn't see them coming into the building. That seems like the sort of paranoid thing that Dibny would do, watch the street like a creep for oncoming visitors.

Though in this neighborhood, maybe it’s less paranoia and more of a reasonable precaution…

"Allen," Dibny says blankly.

Then, a second later, his overly-facile face splits into a truly nasty smirk. "Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in. Heard you got yourself suspended, Allen – suspended pending investigation – possibly going to get fired –"

"That isn't important," Barry says impatiently. Yes, there’s a better-than-decent chance he’ll lose his job, maybe even go to jail – unlikely, but only because the CCPD hates imprisoning its own people, and they definitely don’t want to re-open all the cases Barry’s worked on as a CSI. Yes, he knows that’s extremely unfair, but he also knows that’s probably how it’s going to turn out. Yes, Barry’s extremely upset about it, since being a CSI isn’t just a job he got to pay the bills, it’s a job he got because he loves the work, but it doesn’t matter. They have the Families to deal with – they have Wells to deal with. He doesn't have time for a stupid rivalry-driven ‘I told you so’ from Dibny of all people. "I need you to tell me everything you know about what the Families have planned."

Dibny's eyes flicker and he flinches, just the slightest bit.

He knows something!

"I don't know anything," he says.

Ugh.

Barry hates this guy.

"We know about what you're doing with the mayor, Dibny," Barry says, crossing his arms. "And we know that messages between the Families and the corrupt people on the police force are being passed through here."

"They are not," Dibny says, mirroring Barry. "And even if they were, or even if you did know anything about the mayor that might interest me, what's it to you? I don't have to tell you anything. You're not even a real cop – and anyway you're suspended!"

"Oddly enough," Len drawls from where he's hanging back by the door, "that's why I came along."

Dibny twists to look at Len for the first time, scowling. "Who the hell are you?"

"A cop," Len says dryly. "Who's not suspended."

"Yeah, right," Dibny says dismissively. "I know all the cops, every one of them, no matter where or who; it's practically my superpower. And I don't know you, which means you're not a cop."

Len's eyebrows go up as Dibny speaks, his expression incredulous.

Barry can’t blame him – all this time and fuss about people finding out that he’s a cop, and he finally tells someone who doesn’t know and they don’t believe him?

Weird.

Len balances his weight on his crutches and reaches into his pocket – actions slow and steady, the way you would around someone who might be afraid you’re pulling a gun – and he pulls out his ID. He's holding it awkwardly, suggesting that he's not yet accustomed to being called upon to show it to people.

Probably because he doesn't actually bother arresting non-police people for stuff, and all the police already know who he is.

It’s definitely a real ID, though, and Dibny’s an ex-cop; he’ll recognize that much.

"As you can see," Len says, waving the ID around a bit. "I am, in fact, a cop. Captain Leonard Snart, at your service."

Dibny goes dead white.

Barry wasn't expecting that. Judging by the surprised tilt of Len's head, neither was he, though he's probably hiding his reaction better than Barry is.

"And it's clear you've heard my name before," Len observes.

"I - er - that is - there isn't - aren't you dead?"

"Reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated," Len says, starting to frown. "Who told you about me, anyway? Your friends at the precinct wouldn't have any reason to mention me – and certainly not by name."

"Uh, no, that is – I mean – they don't – I didn't - "

"Oh, but you did, didn't you," Len says, his voice dropping into that calm, cool voice he gets when he's really pissed off. "That's why you were hoping I was dead, wasn't it?"

Barry looks between Len and Dibny, confused. Len was calm three seconds ago, and now he’s suddenly furious? Just because Dibny knew his name?

He knows that Len’s super upset about what happened with Mick, but this reaction seems outsized even for a particularly emotional Len.

So it has to be something Dibny said. But what?

"I don't get it," he says hesitantly. He doesn’t really want to get in between Len and Dibny right now; Len is really glaring death at the guy. Not that Barry objects, of course, if you’d asked him how he’d rank Len trying to murder Ralph Dibny with his eyes as a mental image, he’d probably have put it somewhere in his top twenty most wanted – but he doesn’t like being out of the loop. "What did he do?"

"'I know all the cops,'" Len mimics Dibny, his voice hard. "'It's practically my superpower.' Really is, isn't it? And it's one you've had for a while now, ain't it, Dibny? For quite a while now."

He takes a few steps forward, his crutch making an ominous thudding noise as he moves.

Dibny flinches away before him, scrabbling backwards towards his desk, then past it, to the window – backing up until he can’t back away any more.

"And you like to talk, don't you, Dibny?" Len continues, his expression more actively malevolent than Barry's ever seen it. "You like to talk about your little 'superpower' - maybe even show off a little -"

"I had to!" Dibny bursts out. "I had no choice! You don’t understand! I'd gotten fired from the force, thanks to Barry here, and after the first year or two, I realized that my private investigation business wasn't paying the bills - people didn't believe I had what it took to get them what they needed – I needed to show them –"

"Oh, and I bet you showed them all right," Len says. "Only way to build your new business, wasn’t it? Your new business selling information. But people don’t just agree to let people be information brokers – oh no – you have to give them a little taste of what you can offer – a freebie – something you know that no one else does, something valuable, something you don’t really care too much about – and that’s just what you did –"

"I didn't have a choice! They wouldn't have believed me about anything if I didn't know things! Secret things! Cop things!"

"Like the identity of one of Central's undercover cops," Len says, and suddenly Barry gets it.

"You did it?" he exclaims, horrified. He’s never liked Dibny at the best of times, but it’d never even occurred to him as a possibility. It should have, he realizes that now – Dibny’d all but told him when they talked, all his boasting about information and friends in the precinct and things that he knew because he cozied up to people while calling Barry an anti-social idiot. He’d learned things, all right; things like Len’s name, things like what Len did. An undercover cop. Yes, that was the perfect bit of information to sell out to show that you meant business – as long as you didn’t care what happened to the guy you spilled the beans on. "You're the one who leaked Len's identity to the Families? You got him tortured and shot and his best friend nearly murdered - to drum up more business?"

"Well, when you put it that way, it sounds kinda bad -"

Len takes another step forward. His face is very, very level, very calm. His eyes are not.

"Oh God please don't kill me!" Dibny yelps.

“I’ve been looking for you for a while now,” Len says conversationally. “I've had some things to say to you, you see. Now, while I wasn’t expecting you to just drop into my lap, I’m not one to say no when an opportunity presents itself...”

He takes another step, his hand dropping down to the cold gun by his side.

The one that’s fatal to normal people.

Barry takes a step forward, concerned. "Len, listen, I know you're angry, but you're an ethical guy, okay?" he says, holding out his hands. "You don't want to do this. You'd have to turn in your badge and arrest yourself. Let's just arrest him instead, okay? Nice and legal. Okay?"

Another step.

Len's not listening. Of course he's not; this is the man who destroyed his life, destroyed Mick's life, the man responsible for everything that’s gone wrong since the beginning.

The man Len's been hunting all this time.

The man Captain Cold has been hunting all this time.

"Listen to Allen, please, just arrest me, don’t let him kill me," Dibny babbles. "Listen, Snart, you - you don't want to do this, really! I know things, I know lots of things - I know what the Families are up to, I can tell you that, you want that, right, and in exchange you give me immunity for the leak -"

"No," Len says firmly, and that's about when Barry realizes that Len is totally playing Dibney right now. His voice is intimidating, yes, but he's not about to cross the lines he's set for himself. He's just dealing with the fact that they have an incipient crisis on their hands and Dibny is withholding information that could mean life or death for their city. "No deal. You talk, you talk now, and maybe, if your intel's good enough, I'll arrest you."

"What good's that do me?" Dibny protests. “You’re going to arrest me anyway!”

Len bares his teeth. "Well, alternatively, other option's that I don't listen to Barry here and I don’t arrest you. You don’t want that option. Trust me."

"Oh," Dibny squeaks, his voice suddenly gone higher-pitched. "Right. In that option I die, right?"

"No," Len says. "In that option I call up the CCPD, tell all your buddies that you're a would-be cop-killer, and have them arrest you."

"...shit."

"Limited time offer," Len says. "Talk. Now."

"Listen, as a preliminary thing, I want to be clear that I've got nothing to do with the Families," Dibny says. "I don't! I've never worked with them, I've never dealt with them; at most some of their thugs come by and do some stuff down the hall, that's it. I'm not involved!"

"Yeah, right," Barry says with a snort. "You're not blackmailing the mayor for them?"

"I wouldn't! Not for the Families!" Dibny exclaims. "I'm not a Family cop, you know; I never was. And it's not much blackmail, not really, just some pictures of him cheating that he doesn’t want to get out so close to Election Day - and I really only do it when my landlord suddenly demands I pay the back rent -"

"Of course," Barry says with a sigh, figuring it out. It makes sense. Why involve more people than you have to? "If you’re doing it that predictably enough, then they don't actually need you to be involved. If they know that you're blackmailing the mayor, then they can blackmail him with the fact that he's being blackmailed - and since they almost certainly either own the building or have something on your landlord, they can control when you press him. You're just an unwitting tool."

"Yes! Exactly! Unwitting! That means I'm not working for the Families!"

"I'll grant you that much, sure," Len says with a sneer. He looks at Dibny like he’s something he just stepped in. "But that doesn't change the fact that you fancy yourself some sorta information broker. Well, give us the information, now, or else you'll be the one who's broken."

Barry will not laugh. Barry will not laugh.

Barry cannot believe Len actually just made that pun.

More to the point, he can't believe it could possibly work as a threat, except apparently it does because Dibny starts talking.

"It's the fact that they're failing," Dibny says, voice hushed as if to convey the importance of the information he’s telling them – or possibly just afraid someone will overhear them. "The Families - between your undercover work and the Feds' inroads, their power is in serious decline. They're too risky. No one wants to work for them and get killed. And if they can't get people to work for them, fear them, things like that - well, with that gone, they don't have as much influence over anything. They want that influence back, and they have a plan to get it."

“Stop running out the time,” Len says, his eyes flickering very briefly to Barry, who wants to kick him and kiss him at the same time. Now is not the time for puns! “What’s the plan?”

“They’ve got a deal set up,” Dibny says. “A big one. The biggest deal. I don’t know how, but they’ve managed to get in contact with the military –”

“The military?” Barry exclaims, alarmed. Sure, he's had some brief encounters with them – after Bette Sans Souci died, her meta powers turning inwards to kill her – but he’d forgotten about them right afterwards.

It’d never seemed like a big deal, and Wells had dismissed all of their concerns.

Wells.

Of course.

If he’s in on this whole deal with the Families – and he has to be – then of course he’d make sure they didn’t think too much about the local military, the ones who thought it was a good idea to take someone with meta powers they barely understood and try to use her as a weapon.

Not unlike what Wells was trying to groom Barry into.

God, he was such an idiot.

“The local guy, Eiling; all reports say that he’s a nutcase,” Dibny says. “Military, yeah, but he’s involved in all sorts of weird science stuff, too. Normally the Families don’t go anywhere near military stuff in the best of times – they know when they’re outgunned – but somehow one of their people got in contact with the military and started brokering a deal –”

“Someone legit,” Len murmurs. “Trustworthy. A prominent scientist with military connections, maybe.”

Wells.

It has to be.

“So that’s the deal,” Dibny says. “The Families are going to supply the military with all the black market goods they want – including people to experiment on, especially people who’ve been affected by the Accelerator explosion – and the military’s going to feed them back enough military-grade guns and cash that they’re going to be able to run this city the way they used to.”

“Shit,” Barry says with feeling. There’s no other word for it. Especially if Wells planned the whole time to throw the metas he'd had Barry capture in as part of the deal...things are just getting worse and worse.

“The military money’s going to get laundered through city government, but it’s going to go to all the corrupt guys – there’ll be enough to go around,” Dibny continues. “That’s helping them get it through, but it’s not enough, they’re needing to pull out all the stops to make sure no one blows this deal up. They’ve got pressure on politicians no one even suspected they had pressure on, to get this whole deal moving – we’re not just talking the mayor; we’re talking the governor, we’re talking the cops –”

“The Commissioner?” Len asks.

“Probably, I don’t know,” Dibny says with a helpless shrug. “The thing is, they can’t just make this deal and be done with it – they know the military’ll just wash their hands of them the second any of it comes to light. So they came up with this plan to make sure that no one’ll be able to back out at the last second: an actual deal, signed on paper, with a videotape of the signing. All the big guys in the city with their names on one document –”

“Making sure they don’t back out – after all, if they don’t hang together, they’ll most definitely hang separately,” Len says.

“Seriously, Len?” Barry says.

“What?” Dibny asks. “Wait, was that a musical quote? 1776?”

“It’s a Benjamin Franklin quote,” Barry says. “Still sort of inappropriate.”

“To be fair, I was in fact quoting the musical, and anyway it’s entirely appropriate because after a certain point it’s gotta be either laughter or tears and I don’t got time for the latter,” Len says. “That’s why this is on Election Day, isn’t it? Because everyone in the state’s gonna be in Central and no one’s gonna question it – and all of that talk about logistics, that’s the Families working out how to escort all the relevant people to this big meet-up without anyone noticing that all the bigwigs in town are all gone at the same exact time.”

“Exactly,” Dibny says.

“If you knew all this, why didn’t you tell someone?” Barry demands.

“Tell who?” Dibny shoots back. “I know they’ve got people in the cops, they’ve got people in the government, they’ve got judges, DAs, everything, and to be perfectly honest I don’t exactly want to go up against the Families, okay?! People who do that get shot!”

“Not as much as they used to,” Len says. “A situation that they’re now trying to reverse. Barry, we’re leaving.”

“Wait, what?” Dibny exclaims. “You’re just – leaving?”

“Do you have any more information?” Len asks. “Like where they’re going to meet to do the signing?”

“Uh, no, that’s all I know.”

“That’s what I thought. Since unlike you we intend to actually do something about this, we’re leaving.”

“But what are you going to do about me?” Dibny protests.

“Of course,” Barry hisses. “Always thinking about yourself –”

“Yeah, well, ‘myself’ seems pretty damn important right about now! I just blabbed on the Families to the cops! I want protection! I want to be surrounded by cops! I want -”

“Fine,” Len says.

“– to be...wait, really?” Dibny looks incredulous at Len’s agreement.

Barry can’t blame him; he’s feeling pretty incredulous himself. Dibny gets police protection? For that?

“Oh, absolutely,” Len says. “You should go to the CCPD right now. Or better yet, get any trustworthy friends you can find and then go to the CCPD. They’re going to need all hands on deck pretty soon.”

Dibny blinks. Barry blinks.

Len shakes his head at both of them, his expression gone grim.

“This is Central City,” he says. “The Families walk the line, remember? Everyone knows they’re there, but everyone that our city thinks is important thinks they’re not going to be affected personally by it. Oh, sure, there’s some corrupt cops, some corrupt politicos, anyone elected out of a slum district, we all know that, but we shrug it off because it’s just how Central City works – and anyway, we know who they are, so we can just avoid them.”

“But that’s not what this is,” Barry says, a terrible sinking feeling in his stomach. “This is – this is corruption on an unimaginable scale. This is everybody finding out that everything is a lie: their democracy, their police, their laws...”

“People are going to riot,” Dibny says, his face pale. “The whole city's going to go totally fucking crazy.”

“Yeah,” Len says. “They are. And once I call the Feds to come in, the Families are going to lash out like the cornered rats they are.”

“You can’t do that,” Dibny hisses. “If you bring in the Feds, it’ll be absolute chaos –”

“There’s no choice,” Len says. “You want to be surrounded by police? Go to the CCPD and help out. You want to hide in your basement until it’s all over? Do that, if that’s what you want to. Barry?”

“Right. Leaving.”

Barry follows Len out the door, sliding it shut behind him so that Dibny, standing in his office and gaping at them, won’t see him run at superspeed once they get to the end of the hallway.

Once outside, though, he looks at Len. “He’s right, you know,” he says. “There’ll be riots, and it’ll only be worse if the Feds come in. If the Families think they’re dealing with some sort of existential crisis, they’ll pull out all the stops to protect themselves. Every person they have pressure on, every person who’s ever taken an unwise loan, every shopkeeper that ever paid them protection money...they’ll call them all in to fight for them.”

“I know,” Len says. “But we have to stop them from making this deal. And if the CCPD’s compromised, it has to be the Feds.”

“They’ll make a mess of things.”

“Probably,” Len agrees. “I know a bunch of them, though; worked closely with them. They trust me. If I say they have to work with the CCPD – the good, not-corrupt parts of the CCPD – they’ll bitch and whine but they’ll do it.”

Barry nods. “And it’s better than the Families,” he says, thinking back to his dad’s stories of the older days, when he was a kid, back when Central City had been a real Family haven. Murders on the train lines, police looking the other way except for when the ones on the take were assaulting people who tried to fight back against Family influence, drugs sold openly on street corners, violence and crime everywhere...

They can’t let that happen.

“I’ll call my guys,” Len says, pulling out his phone. “You call Iris. We need to make this public.”

“Public? The riots –”

“I know,” Len says grimly. “Publicizing it will only make the riots happen faster. I know. I’m planning for it.”

“Planning – but why?”

“Because we don’t have time to do otherwise. Even if I call the Feds, mobilization takes forever and Election Day’s tomorrow. As it is, the Feds won’t be able to pull in enough guys to properly fight the Families at full force. We need the citizens of Central City – even if the only thing they can do is create such a mess that no one in the Families will be able to escape.”

Barry swallows hard, imagining his beautiful city in flames, knowing that these types of riots can kill people, but he nods. There’s no other way of stopping the Families. The people have to know.

The people have a right to know.

“One last thing,” he says hesitantly.

Len raises his eyebrows. He’s already dialing.

“The Feds can do a lot,” Barry says, then swallows. “But they can’t defeat the Reverse Flash.”

No one can.

Not even Barry.

He’s not fast enough. But if the Reverse Flash is Wells, then maybe he was never going to be.

But Barry’s the only one who even stands a chance.

He has to try.

Len pauses, considering.

“You’re right,” he says after a long moment. “They can’t. They’re not equipped for something like that; he’ll plow right through them.”

Barry winces.

Another moment of silence.

“Okay,” Len finally says. “Okay. After we alert the Feds and Iris, you and I, we’ll go stop him ourselves.”

“Ourselves? But we don’t even know where he is!”

“Of course we do,” Len says. “Now that I’ve had a moment to think about it, it’s obvious. I know where he’s hiding, and I know where he’s keeping Thawne and Mick.”

“Where?”

“STAR Labs,” Len says. “Right in the part that was hand-made – literally – by Zoom Contracting.”

Hand-made by Wells.

By the Reverse Flash.

By the Man in Yellow.

Of course.

“I know just where to go,” Barry says.

[callunavulgari]

TOP 25 FICS OF 2018

1. A Cornstalk Fiddle by @notbecauseofvictories | Devil Went Down To Georgia | The Devil/Johnny | 17k

Where Johnny goes, the Devil follows; where Johnny goes, the Devil is already there.

Heather Says: So. I never thought that my favorite fic of the entire year would be a fic written about a song - and one that I don’t even particularly like - but here I am. I read this fic the same night that I finally broke down and watched Moonlight, and ended up listening to Moonlight’s End Credits and Hello Stranger by Barbara Lewis on repeat while I finished that first chapter on my back porch. This is that perfectly atmospheric fic that you’ll find maybe once every ten years and could probably sustain you on its memory for just as long.

2. Work of All Saints by @kaikamahine | Coco | Imelda/Hector/Ernesto | 210k

Imelda Rivera (b. 1899 - d. 1969), a story that includes but is not limited to: the finest music school this side of the Santo Domingo, three traveling musicians and the mess they made of love, the twice-cursed assassination of Venustiano Carranza, all the patron saints, and ninety-six ways a man can try to cross a bridge.

Heather Says: This story blew my entire mind. It was lovely, and tragic, and hilarious, and everything that a good novel should be. The parts of this fic that map out the unseen lives of Imelda, Hector, and Ernesto, that hidden backstory that a movie can only hint about, were exquisite to the point that I was afraid getting to the point where, well, they die, would be a letdown. It really wasn’t. If anything, the story managed to get richer as it went along, until suddenly you’re in a room sobbing into a pillow at four in the morning and have to be awake in four hours. No regrets.

3. Under the Covers by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger | Stranger Things | Billy/Steve | 87k

Steve is (maybe) a little bit still in love with Nancy Wheeler and (maybe) trying to figure himself out-- between the night terrors and the babysitting and the general weirdness that is Hawkins, Indiana-- before he graduates.

Billy Hargrove fits in there somewhere (probably).

Heather Says: Under the Covers was the first Harringrove fic that actually kicked me over the edge from ‘eh this ship looks like it would have good hate sex’ and into full-fledged believer. It’s an intricately crafted look into the world of Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington post-season two and it is absolutely glorious.

4. Bloody Ruin by esama | Castlevania | Alucard/Trevor | 37k

Vampire hunter and a vampire try to get along.

Heather Says: Written before season two came out, this was one of those fics that I clicked on because the pairing interested me and I wanted to see how it worked. It did not disappoint, and even after I delved through the tag on ao3 after I marathoned season two, this is still my favorite.

5. a road less traveled and a life less led by Azzandra | Dishonored | Billie & The Outsider | 9k

She took him out of the Void, as promised. And then she kept him, she supposed.

Heather Says: You know all that fanart that started cropping up after Death of the Outsider came out? The ones where Billie and the Outsider crept around Dunwall or Karnaca stealing fish and safes and graffiti-ing buildings? The ones with that found family vibe? Yeah. This fic scratches the same itch that all that art did.

6. But I’m Not There Yet by sarahyyy | Yuri On Ice | Yuri/Otabek | 71k

“Are you not going to read the article?” she asks, flopping onto his bed. “Look who ranked second, just after Phichit Chulanont.”

Otabek reluctantly scrolls down, and oh. #2 - Yuri Plisetsky

In the embedded Instagram photo just under that subheading, a very grumpy Yuri is cuddling a very grumpy-looking cat. The caption reads: I found the cat version of me at the shelter today. #iknowisaidnomorecats #canyoublameme

Heather Says: And here, in the stupid cute category we have teenagers navigating love through social media. What’s more, there’s a companion fic.

7. flowers start to bloom in every different hue by orphan-account | Coraline | Coraline/Wybourn | 1k

Coraline grows up, gets a tattoo, and falls in love. In that order.

Heather Says: I read this fic on a slow day at work, often in quick bursts while I was waiting for the kitchen to finish my table’s food. It’s short. It’s sweet. It’s perfect. And honestly? It’s everything that I was looking for when I ventured into the Coraline tag on ao3 because I was curious.

8. Victory Conditions by @astolat | Transformers | Megatron/Optimus Prime | 37k

“Do you want me to tell you a story?” Megatron said mockingly. “You won’t like it, Prime. It’s not a very nice one.”

Heather Says: Fun fact, I’m not even in this fandom. I haven’t touched the Transformers fandom since the first movie came out in 2007 and I spent a very confusing week shipping a boy and his car. But Astolat has literally never lead me wrong, and I was having one of those bored days where nothing quite itches the right spot, so I sat down on the couch and spent two hours reading this. Worth it.

  9. just in it for the game by grim_lupine | Thor | Thor/Loki | 6k

“It's excellent rehabilitation for my image,” Loki says, widening his eyes. “They love you, and because of that they'll trust me. You wouldn't ruin this for me, would you?”

Thor glares at him.

Loki’s mouth twitches. “Also, it's the funniest thing that's ever happened to me.”

Heather Says: The Thor/Loki bug never really bit me until after Ragnorak came out. I mean, sure, I read it and it was good, but hella’s Frostiron fics basically destroyed me for any other Loki pairing. HOWEVER. Ragnorak happened and screwed that all the way up. Also, you know, this fic is absolutely lovely and was just what the doctor ordered.

10. so this guy walks into a bar by MasterOfAllImagination | Pacific Rim | Newt/Hermann | 2.5k

“Bourbon,” Hermann says, hooking his cane on the edge of the bar and sliding by degrees onto a stool.

“Straight up?” the bartender asks.

“Please.” Does he look like the kind of man who enjoys having his nostrils fumigated by undiluted whiskey? “On the rocks.”

Heather Says: I coped with Pacific Rim 2 by reading a couple AUs and a couple very, very long fics full of tragedy and math. Weirdly, the AU of a chance meeting in a bar was the one that stuck.

11. cherry pie by @brawlite & @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger | Stranger Things | Billy/Steve | 133k

Billy Hargrove lives for summer. Endless sunshine, heavily chlorinated pools, roaming ice cream trucks, and unencumbered freedom? There’s nothing better.

Even being stuck in Hawkins can’t ruin the summer for him. He eats it up, devouring every day whole.

Heather Says: Yeah, okay, but this is the fic that made summer worth it. Highly recommend reading at the pool or with your feet hanging off the back porch. Every piece of this fic was dripping in summertime nostalgia. It was fan-freaking-tastic.

12. the ghost and the good queen val by Wildehack (tyleet) | Thor | Thor/Valkyrie/Loki | 27k

“What,” she says, her heart racing, “was that.”

“What was what?” Korg asks, frowning up at her. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Valkyrie squints suspiciously at the ship.

“Oh my god,” Korg says. “You did! You saw a ghost!”

Heather Says: So, remember how I coped with Pacific Rim 2 with copious AUs? This is how I coped with Infinity War.

13. For Better or Worse by DragonBandit  | The Bright Sessions | Mark/Damien | 22k

All Damien ever wanted was someone who wanted him. All Damien deserves is to die alone, stripped bare of any of the comforts or affections of humanity, a title he willingly shed.

Mark Bryant seems to be the Universe's compromise.

Wherein Damien and Mark are soulmates, and this changes enough.

Heather Says: I think I’ve read this one three or four time this year? It’s 22k of well-written fic for a fandom that has a max of like 100 fics all with lengths that tend to vary between a couple hundred words to 2 or 3k, max. This fic is the one that really catapulted me into the fandom. 

14. in waves by @lymricks | Stranger Things | Billy/Steve | 38k

It’s March and it’s too cold for Billy to be shirtless and wearing shorts, but he hadn’t noticed until Harrington appeared and made him hold still. Harrington can’t seem to stop looking at the bruises. “What’s it to you if I miss a little school, Harrington?” Billy asks. He feels goosebumps rising on his skin.

“I don’t know,” Harrington snaps back, looking uncomfortable. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Plant your feet, Billy wants to scream at him. I’m going to bowl you over.

Heather Says: And here we have the first fic that wasn’t written by either @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger or @brawlite that made me realize that this fandom was gonna be a good one. So fantastic.

15. the cure by aquaexplicit | The Flash | Cisco/Harry | 43k

“I guess I don’t really get what you need to fix? Harrison Wells is a hot, rich genius that pays you to make cool stuff with his daughter and is totally into you. If you guys boning is the biggest problem you have, I think this officially qualifies as your best relationship ever.”

When Barry puts it like that, everything sounds so simple and not at all as angst ridden as Cisco has been suffering the past few months.

Cisco hangs up on him.

Heather Says: I remember a couple years ago, I fell absolutely head over heels for this one Sterek fic where Derek had twin toddlers and Stiles was the hired babysitter. So I think there’s something about dad + babysitter fics that get me, even if this one in particular the ‘baby’ in question is a fifteen year old genius. Still. Dad + babysitter. I don’t even know, but apparently it works for me.

16. pull out the insides by SpineAndSpite | The Bright Sessions | Mark/Damien | 3k

“Stop,” Damien says again, more insistent this time.

“I’m not doing it on purpose.” Mark's heart pounds in his ears and he sees Damien’s hands shaking. God. They shouldn’t have started talking about sex. Shouldn’t have filled in the colors and shadows to this pencil outline of a sketch forming between them. They shouldn’t have given it a name.

Heather Says: This year seems to have had a theme when it comes to fics that I’ve liked and it seems to boil down to: people who are bad for each other have sex and catch feelings. Mark/Damien is not the healthiest ship. But it also hurts in this stupidly tragic way and hell if I didn’t fall head over heels for it.

17. tell me, get my shit together by paperclipbitch | Star Wars | Han/Lando | 5k

“I thought we were actively avoiding each other after the Trandosha Shitshow,” Han says.

“We’re actively avoiding each other after the Iridonia Shitshow,” Lando corrects him, “the Trandosha Shitshow is That Which We Do Not Speak Of.”

Heather Says: So, guess what I did in the two to three hours after seeing Solo? If you guessed: ‘combed through ao3 until you ran out of fic’ ding ding ding, you are 100% correct. This one was very, very good, which makes sense, because paperclipbitch has some good shit.

18. chases, escapes, true love, miracles by pepperfield | The Flash | Cisco/Harry 55k

Just because the timeline has been restored, doesn't mean things are back to normal. Cisco's got 99 problems, and Harry Wells is approximately 38 of them.

In which Cisco makes a bunch of plans, fails most of them, narrowly avoids being disintegrated, receives a hug or two, finds his groove, and gets his man. More or less in that order.

Heather Says: This one was long and wibbly wobbly, because it was basically what season 3 should have been. But it was also really great, and had some super quality Harrisco interactions.

19. Your Pretty Little Heart by Ever-so-reylo | Star Wars | Reylo | 64k

Modern day AU in which Ben is an Alpha, Rey is an Omega, and they are way better at having sex than at communicating with each other.

Heather Says: Speaking of people who are probably a little bit bad for each other... This particular fic was new to me, not because of the um, extensive sexual content, but because I’m usually not a fan of A/B/O. But this one was extremely good, enough that I actually liked it for a/b/o aspect rather than in spite of it.

20. Draconia by perceived_nobility | The Bright Sessions | Mark/Damien | 4k

"So I was driving. One ex wife and one ex husband later, stopping at the same fucking gas stations you and I stopped at."

Heather Says: This fic actually prompted a 3 hour long conversation on the ‘adult’ Mark/Damien discord where we basically outlined an entire fic that I never got around to writing where Damien is raising a child, has a farm, and runs into Mark ten years down the ride. One day, I might write it, because vaguely domestic, meet-again-ten-years-down-the-road fics always bowl me right the fuck over and just. There needs to be more fic like this one in the world. But until then, the world can marvel at the beauty that is this one.

21. Artifice by buttpatrol | Wolf 359 | Hera/Eiffel | 23k

A story told in parts about colour palettes, identity, robot uprisings, sensational trials, space, and messy love.

Heather Says: As I’ve recently finished relistening to Wolf 359 I have a fresh appreciation for this fic, which is one of the only longer fics on ao3 that just grips you by the heart and squeezes the same way that the series does. It might have been written before the end of the series, but it’s honestly just as perfect.

22. (shoot the lights out, hide) till its bright out by lipgallagher | Stranger Things | Billy/Steve | 93k

The most dangerous thing walking around Hawkins goes by the name Billy Hargrove.

And he fucking knows it.

Heather Says: I’m kind of cheating here, because this is a series rather than a single fic, but I’m not picking just one part. I read the first four or so parts of this fic when I was visiting my family in South Carolina and spent the next few days wandering around the place half-in Steve Harrington’s headspace. It was an incredibly surreal experience, which lead to a pretty strong combination of mania, depression, and an indescribable craving for ice cream. So like, maybe don’t read this fic if you’re in a bad head space? But also it’s very good and features one of the most fucked up and intriguing Steve’s that I’ve seen yet.

23. Until My Feet Bleed and My Heart Aches by Reiya | Yuri On Ice | Yuuri/Viktor | 197k

‘…Of all the rivalries in the world of sports over the years, perhaps none has become so legendary as that of Russian figure skater Viktor Nikiforov and his rival, Japanese Yuuri Katsuki…’

Heather Says: I actually read this one on the plane ride down to South Carolina, and kind of didn’t like it at first? I’m not sure if it was just the act of putting Yuuri and Victor into the position of rivals that made me uncomfortable or the goddamn delays that turned half a day of travelling into a full one, but eventually I was able to get into and enjoyed it quite a bit. I really like the rivals to lovers trope, so I’d been looking forward to this one a lot.

24. Traveling Far by @astolat | Game of Thrones | Jaime/Brienne | 24k

Three weeks into their delightful slog across Westeros, during yet another charming day of shitting in the woods, eating half-raw squirrel, and trudging his feet bloody, the single most dour and uninteresting woman Jaime had ever met in all of Westeros stopped in the middle of a field, drew a deep breath, and said, “When I was seven, my aunt came to visit with her son. My father told me that as the daughter of the house, it was my duty to show hospitality to my guests and to be gracious to them. I wanted to make him proud. So for three weeks, I let my cousin follow me around and talk to me about spiders.”

Heather Says: I’ve become very fond of astolat’s Jaime/Brienne fics, and I think this one is my favorite yet. Featuring Starks, found family, and a whole lot of walking.

25. lilies of the valley (cover me with kisses, make my garden grow) by diasterisms | Star Wars | Reylo | 8k

Every girl is entitled to the mistake. That one colossal fuck-up that permanently alters the terrain of who you are. You'll either learn from it or you won't, so might as well have the time of your life.

Heather Says: I just. I really like flower shop AUs, and the idea of a Kylo Ren who owns a sleek flower shop being menaced by a tiny gremlin in a leather jacket just. Kills me. It was really sweet and all kinds of wonderful.

[singledarkshade]

Small Miracle

Part Seven Rip sat in the Time Vault hiding for a few minutes while Iris and Caitlin took Jonas for a walk. Today was the day when the Legends would leave with the Waverider and he would be living in one time period for the rest of his life.

“Captain,” Gideon said, “Are you feeling sorry for yourself?”

“No,” he replied before sighing, “Maybe,” Rip rubbed his hand over his face, “I know this is for the best, Gideon. I have to stay here to give Jonas a proper life, I know that and I want to raise my son but...”

“But?” she prompted.

“I’m letting my escape route leave without me,” he confessed, “I’ve always had the Waverider there waiting for me and suddenly...”

“You are feeling trapped,” Gideon finished for him.

Rip nodded, “It might be selfish.”

“A little.”

He chuckled, “I need your help, Gideon with pretty much every part of this.”

“I am already searching for suitable living arrangements for you and Master Hunter,” Gideon replied, “I am using specific criteria including how easy it will be for you to install what you will need to have me there also.”

Rip smiled at her reassurance, “I would be lost without you, Gideon.”

“I know.”

   Star Labs was full with the Legends and various members of certain crew members’ families along with Team Flash. There was a lot of joking and good natured insults being bandied about. Rip was relieved that Jonas was out with Iris and Caitlin; he didn’t need to hear some of the banter just yet. Jonas had been received several hugs goodbye from the Legends before he happily went with the two women.

In one corner Detective...Joe was standing talking to Sara and her father who had arrived last night to see his daughter off this time. Jax’s mother and Clarissa Stein were with the two halves of Firestorm along with Mick Rory who, for some reason, Clarissa seemed to think was quite a character.

Lisa Snart was talking with Cisco and Wally, flirting lightly with Wally to Cisco’s obvious annoyance. Finally Ray, Nate and Amaya were talking with Barry. Sara broke away from her conversation to where Rip stood staring in at the crowd.

“Have you got everything you need?” Sara asked him.

“A Parenting Guidebook that can predict everything would be helpful,” Rip replied wryly, “But other than that I have the things I need. The Waverider is now yours, Sara.”

She squeezed his arm, “I will take good care of her.”

He nodded.

“The crew want to talk to you in private before we leave,” Sara told him, “You up for that?”

                                  *********************************************

  To Rip’s surprise the first person to appear in the lab he was using for private goodbyes was Mick Rory.

“Okay, Englishman,” the former Bounty Hunter stated, “Here’s the deal. I promised Snart that if anything happened to him then I’d watch over Lisa. Since I’m not going to be here then it’s your job.”

Rip nodded, “I promise I will do everything I can to help her.”

“Good,” Mick replied.

“Mr Rory,” Rip said, “You’re now the one with the specific knowledge of time travel within the team. Help them not to destroy time.”

He offered his hand, keeping it extended as Mick looked at it for a few moments before taking Rip’s hand and shaking it.

Without another word Mick walked out.

  Nate and Amaya came in together and said a very quick goodbye because neither of them had spent as much time with Rip as the other members of the team.

  Ray arrived next and shrugged, “I’m not sure what to say.”

“How about ‘I promise not to accidentally leave bits of my suit around history’?” Rip suggested with an amused smile.

“I did it once,” Ray rolled his eyes before accusing, “You almost ruined Star Wars.”

“Please tell me you haven’t told Cisco that?” Rip asked with a wince, “That could make my current living situation extremely awkward.”

Ray grinned, “I’m holding that piece of knowledge to myself until I can use it for something really good. Besides he might lock onto the fact that you went to film school with George Lucas.”

Rip chuckled frowning confused when Ray handed him a piece of paper with two sets of numbers written on it, “What is this?”

“When I was back in Star City I set up a college fund for Jonas,” Ray told him, “And another account for both of you to help you find a proper place to live.”

“Ray...”

“I know you said you have resources,” Ray cut him off, “But I have plenty of money which I don’t use since I’m travelling through time and space.”

“Don’t most people still think you’re dead?” Rip asked, mostly for a moment to get his mind around Ray’s generosity.

Ray shrugged with a grin, “True but I still have money under Felicity Smoak’s control, she was happy to set it up for me.”

“Ray,” Rip shook his head in bemusement, “I have no idea what to say.”

The other man looked at him seriously, “We’re taking your home, Rip. I want to make sure you get another one. Plus your boy is smart so he’s going to need a good college.”

Rip rubbed the bridge of his nose before offering his hand to the other man, “Take care, Ray.”

Ray hugged the other man tightly, “You too, Rip.”

  “So,” Jax walked in next, “My mom now knows about Jonas so I think he may have another adoptive grandmother.”

Rip chuckled, “Okay.”

Jax stared at him, seeing how unbalanced Rip was, “How’re you doing?”

“Honestly, Jax I didn’t think this would be so hard,” Rip confessed.

Jax shrugged, “We’re your friends. We may not always have been happy to be on the ship, or with you, but we’ve gone through a lot together.”

Rip winced, “At first you, and the team, were a means to an end but I can honestly say I wouldn’t be here without you all.”

“Just make sure you remember that,” Jax told him.

Rip nodded, “I did a full systems check and everything is in perfect working order. Sara is the Captain but as Chief Engineer you’re the one who keeps the Waverider going. I’ve left some things in your room that may assist you.”

Jax hugged him as well before clapping his shoulder and walking out. Rip rubbed his eyes he only had a few more goodbyes to get through and hoped he made it.

  “Martin,” he greeted the older man when he walked through the doors.

“Rip,” he replied, “I heard Cisco telling Clarissa how they’re trying to get you to understand family use first names. And I think it is something we should have adopted a long time ago ourselves.”

Rip shrugged, “Perhaps.”

“Clarissa has informed me that she has adopted you and Jonas,” Martin chuckled, “So as my now adopted son I am going to remind you to let her and the others here to help you,” he became a little more serious leaning against the table, “I know you have a mother but as she cannot know about Jonas then please accept Clarissa’s offer to be in his life as a sort of grandmother.”

Rip folded his arms, “It’s been five days and I am well aware of how unprepared I am to raise Jonas, Martin. I am grateful for all the help I can get. And there is no one I can think of I would be more honoured to have as a father than you.”

The two men embraced quickly and Rip wiped his eyes as Martin left the room.

  “Come here,” Sara ordered the moment she walked in and hugged Rip tightly. He was a little stunned by how tactile she had been with him since they’d found Jonas.

“Okay,” she said letting him go and leaning on the desk, “I know it’s been a bit of an emotional day for you so I won’t make it any more difficult.”

Rip chuckled wryly, “Good luck with that.”

“Well,” Sara smiled, “I don’t think there is anything else I can say that hasn’t been said already.”

“Then let me,” Rip said, “Thank you, Sara. For saving my life, for bringing me back from what Thawne made me into and for giving Jonas back to me. I told Jax I wouldn’t be here without you all and I know for certain I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

Sara smiled, “You are a pain the ass, Hunter and you have a habit of keeping secrets as well as putting yourself in the firing line but I became fond of you.”

“I’m touched,” Rip replied sarcastically.

“My point, Rip,” Sara laughed, “Is you need to make sure you’re here when we come back to visit.”

Rip looked away before asking, “How are you feeling now you’ve had the connection to Gideon for almost a day?”

“Beginning to understand you a little more,” she rolled her eyes at the change of subject, “Gideon,” she called to his Gideon, “Make sure you keep him in line for me.”

Rip looked down at the avatar appearing from the disc on his wrist.

“I promise, Captain Lance,” Gideon replied.

Sara laughed and hugged Rip once more, “Time to go.”

                                  *********************************************

  Rip stood in the Star Labs car park watching the team as they headed onto the Waverider after the goodbyes to their loved ones. He thought back to the day he’d been given his ship, how excited he had been but making sure he didn’t show it because that would be unbecoming of a Time Master.

He’d been surprised to be given a Gideon programme for his AI, since all his training AI’s had been either a Gary or Gilbert. Druce had told him that only a certain kind of person could work with a Gideon AI and they knew he would be able to handle the challenges she would throw at him. Now though Rip wondered if Druce ever realised how big a mistake he’d made when he gave Rip to Gideon.

“Rip,” Sara’s voice came over the communicator, “Take care.”

“You too,” he whispered softly.

As the Waverider rose into the air Rip was surprised to feel someone place a hand on his shoulder. Glancing to one side he saw Cisco finding Barry on his other, grateful to have them with him as the Legends left. His eyes followed the Waverider until it had disappeared standing staring at the empty sky hearing everyone head back inside.

  “Daddy,” Jonas’ cry pulled him away from staring after what wasn’t coming back and he caught his son when he ran towards him.

“Did you have a good walk?” Rip asked smiling his thanks to Iris and Caitlin.

Jonas nodded, “Yes.”

Rip looked at the little boy he was holding in his arms and knew he had made the right choice.

“Let’s spend the rest of the day having fun,” Rip told him.

Jonas threw his arms around Rip’s neck in a hug as Rip turned away from where the Waverider had been.

He had his son and Jonas was all he needed.

  Sequel First Steps will be up soon.

[castcharmperson]

Taakitz: Crossover

What up!! It’s November!! Literally my only note to myself when writing this story was, and this is a direct copy-paste from my google doc, “For the love of god i gotta keep this one short or I’ll lose my mind.” AND NOW I HAVE 9k+ WORDS SO???

A thousand thank you’s to the folks behind @taakitzweek - participating was a joy and a privilege and gifted me this AU that I’m pretty sure will live in my heart forever. To be posted in six parts over the course of the next week. Please enjoy part one of Speed Trap, a b99 styled, white collar inspired, non-magical modern au where Taako does a crime and Kravitz absolutely does not get paid enough to deal with it. Warning for a paraphrase of the ‘tentacle your dick’ quote.

It wasn’t Taako’s fault that he got fired. The product was damaged, some kid was clumsy in the back of the shop, so the manager told Taako to throw out it. Sure, the eyeshadow palette was cracked, but other than that it was perfectly fine. Some pigment from the blue crossed into the green, but honestly, Taako had several outfits that would be amazing with that unique shade of teal. So the product was supposed to go in the trash, instead it ended up in Taako’s pocket. There was almost no difference between the two, especially when he changed out of his work uniform and into his black skinny jeans that were all but threadbare.

But then he was in the parking lot, sitting on the hood of his car and nowhere near the store, when his manager thought it’d be a great time to remind him that smoking would be the death of him. Seriously, Taako was off the clock and even if he wasn’t, his manager wasn’t his mom, don’t tell him what to do.

“Hey, why do you have one of our palettes in your pocket?”

So now Taako didn’t have a job. Again. He’d been lucky to score that easy gig, to have some sort of start at paying off his loans, but now he was blacklisted from the entire mall. And it wasn’t like he could work in any of the restaurants nearby because his asshole ex-boyfriend had literally soured every contact they had in the food industry.

Taako had three degrees to his name. He was an engineer and a chef, but even before his credibility was destroyed, the only thing his fancy education brought him was a bank account perpetually in the red.

“Hey Koko, you’re home early.” Lup shrugged off her uniform jacket and went directly to the fridge. Living with his sister was the best thing to happen to him since coming back from the nightmare Paris had turned into. She had a steady job, a dangerous one, but she was never late to pay rent like he always seemed to be. She was so patient with him, it almost felt unfair. She really should have kicked him out by now; instead, she constantly reminded him that his luck would change any day now. He’d catch his break, or there was always a job for him at the station.

He appreciated her offer, he really did, but Taako he knew he wouldn’t survive a day being a police officer. The idea of him being in uniform and competently saving lives was laughable. He barely managed to handle the stress of knowing his sister was putting her life on the line for this shitty city.

“Uh, yeah.” And he could not handle the stress of her knowing he got fired again.

“Everything okay? I know you’re manager’s a jerk but maybe-“

“They actually got fired today.” What? No, stop. He was not lying to his sister, she’d see right through him. Instead, Lup turned around grinning. “Yeah and um, I’m the new manager. Regional position, actually, pretty nice.”

“Taako!” She was hugging him and he felt sick. “That’s amazing! I told you things would turn around!” What happened to twin telepathy? Why did she believe him? Why was he lying to her??

She said something about a date with Barry, but Taako was barely listening. Now that he was thinking about it, it wasn’t surprising that she believed him; they didn’t keep things from each other, she had no reason to suspect anything.

Home alone again, the smart thing to do would be to tell her the truth. Text her. It would maybe ruin her date, but at least the fall out would be buffered until she got back home. Besides, date night with Barry meant the two of them were shopping for Mr. and Mrs. suitcase sets or some other gross couple-y nonsense. There wasn’t much to ruin. She’d be mad, but in time, everything would be fine.

Just sitting on the couch, phone in hand as he hovered over the digital keyboard, he was already nauseous from her imagined anger. Getting fired again was bad enough, but lying to her? Why did he say that?

The smart thing to do would be telling the truth. But the Taako thing to do would be to make the truth. He said he got promoted, new job, new hours, new money. All he had to do was find that job.

Next morning, he was out of the house before she even woke up. Note on the fridge, something vague about new hours for manager training and a breakfast pastry waiting for her, and she wouldn’t suspect a thing. Taako wasn’t sure where he was going to find this new truth of a job, but it had to be out there. The mall by the house wasn’t an option, but there were other malls and he had gas to burn after swiping that seemingly unlimited gift card off of some rich asshole a few months back.

Speeding down the highway, Taako forced himself to be hopeful. It was the tail end of fall, places would be hiring. The kids to help with the summer rush all had classes again and stores wanted to start preparing for the holiday rush. Lup was right, even if she didn’t know the whole picture. His luck was turning.

But maybe that luck was taking a smoke break as he heard sirens behind him. Glancing in the mirror, a cop car tailed him down the freeway. “Bullshit,” Taako cursed as he pulled over. Everyone sped down this stretch, why was he being pulled over?

He rolled down his window and was treated to someone glaring at him through a large pair of aviators. “Sir, do you know how fast you were going?” Ridiculous sunglasses matched with an equally ridiculous accent. No way that was real.

Taako couldn’t help himself, losing the fight against the grin taking over his face. “Blimey, officer, I ain’t sure.” It’d been over a decade since his and Lup’s high school stardom in a rather strange retelling of Oliver Twist but Taako’s accent was still more believable than the officer’s.

The officer’s brow twitched and then the glasses came off as though Taako’s joke might have somehow been a trick of his lenses. “Excuse me?” The accent was faltering worse now, but without the glasses, Taako was able to fully appreciate the man’s face.

“Oh wow, if all the cops were as handsome as you, I’d maybe be tempted to follow all the laws.”

The handsome man’s face twisted further in confusion. “What is wrong with you? I’m giving you a speeding ticket and you’re hitting on me?”

Taako just shrugged, but then the threat of a ticket finally sunk in. “Wait, shit, a ticket? Come on, I couldn’t have been going that fast.”

“I’ve certainly seen faster on this street, but eighty in a fifty five still isn’t great.”

Taako did the math real quick, facts and figures from Lup’s studying for the academy still fresh in his mind even though she’d graduated years ago. There was no way he could afford a ticket for going that high over the limit. “Okay hold on, hot stuff. Can’t you cut me a break? First time offense and all?”

“Not five seconds ago, you admitted to me that the lack of attractive police force was contribution to your history of crime.” His tone was turning amused now, seeming to enjoy the way the conversation had slipped back into his control. His smile was unfairly charming, even if the accent was still disastrous.

Taako couldn’t afford to be distracted though. “I’m not a criminal! Dude, come on, I will give you everything in my wallet if you don't ticket me.”

“Bribing an officer? I do not want to deal with the paperwork for that. Just stay here.” He started back to his squad car and Taako leaned out the window to holler after him.

“Come on, hot stuff, don’t be like this! At least lemme get that name, I’m about to suck your dick for free if I can’t do it to get out of a ticket!”

The officer ignored him, coming back to throw a slip of paper through Taako’s window. His sunglasses were back on, covering some of his face but not enough to hide the blush from what Taako had been shouting at him. “Do me a favor, Mr. Taako? Be a criminal in some other district because I would love to never ticket you again.”

At least the piece of paper gave Taako a name: K. Queen. Not that it meant anything with one of the most common last names in the city. Besides, Taako couldn’t exactly try to hook up with someone if he got arrested for overdue fines. Long after the officer drove off, Taako sat in his own car on the side of the highway. The price mocked him from the piece of paper, like it knew he’d never afford it and rent at the same time.

Another car zoomed past him, easily going over the eighty Taako had been caught for. If only he could pull over that guy, charge him in order to pay off his own ticket. It’d be fair- there were drunk drivers and reckless assholes all over this stupid city. They should be getting ticketed, not him!

Wait… That wasn’t a bad idea.

[Part Two]

Please come scream at me in my ask box about this AU because even after I post all of this fic I might write little bonuses for it. And thanks so much for reading! I know I am well past the taakitz week deadline for posting this. If you want to, check out my charmedwords tag for more taz fics!

[meshugana1]

A friend of mine is getting married, and it's making me crave a story about a bride going nuts on her wedding night. His bride is so tightly wound, super religious, smart, trim, the works, but a total prude. I'd like to see that all implode in a heartbeat. She goes nuts, eating everything in sight, growing to an enormous size, humping anything that moves, and getting dumber with every passing second! Thank you for the great stories so far, your work is amazing! ~Joy

“NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!” Abigail screamed at the wait staff of her wedding reception. She rubbed her temples urging herself to calm down. It might’ve been the happiest day of her life but an outside observer would never know it with her behavior. She was as of three o’clock this afternoon Mrs. Abigail Pressman, however she had no time to enjoy the event as she was determined to make it so perfect that no one could possibly forget her special day. She managed the catering, the photographers, the ushers, the guests. Every cog and pin in the wedding machine was observed and accounted for.

“Abby please, calm down. The chicken is just a little undercooked, it’ll be ok they’ll just pop it back in the oven for a few minutes and it’ll be fine right?” Ryan asked turning to the cook who stood stock still, doing his best not set off the volatile woman.“Don’t try and clam me down honey. These people are trying to ruin my wedding on purpose, they’er jealous.”“Abby, why don’t we go and sit down? We can eat some cake and relax, have a glass of champagne, dance for a minute or two?”“Why are you defending them? They’re ruining everything I worked so hard on! Do you just not care? Did we get married for nothing?”“Of course not, I love you. I just think you’re blowing this out of proportion, just a little bit.”“Ugh!!” Abigail grunts throwing her hands up in the air and running of out of the outdoor reception are and into the church proper.

“Listen Barry, I’m really sorry. She’s just tightly strung today ya know?” Ryan said to the chef and his staff.“It’s all right man, I know how brides can get. But while I got you here I just wanted to say thanks for booking my company for the catering.” Barry said.“It’s nothing Barry, I know you man you were the clear pick. It’s not everyday I can have my best friend cater my wedding and watch my wife bitch him out.”“Har har chuckles. I see she’s already introducing marital bliss into your life, normally it takes a few months for crazy to set in.”“It’s just stress, you’ve known her longer than I have she’s never like that.” What Ryan said was true.

Abigail was typically a very kind, intelligent and driven woman but weddings just had a way of bringing out the worst in some women. Abby started micro managing everything, going over ever single word of every speech and every grain of salt in the food. She wouldn’t leave the tailor alone when he started on her dress. She called the old man everyday and must’ve had him redo the dress a dozen times. She even refused to pay for it because of all the trouble, she came home angry because his wife had cursed her out in some other language but she wrote a nasty review on yelp and she forgot the whole thing.

“Well don’t worry about it man, I’m sure she’ll even out during the honey moon. So, you two…”“Barry you know how devout she is, for christ’s sake we all went to catholic school together.” Ryan said unable to hide all of his frustration.“Ok ok, just asking. I better skedaddle back to the kitchen, Bridezilla is headed this way.” Ryan turned to see his bride walking over to him. He hoped she had a nice cool down and from the look on Abby’s face that seemed likely. She almost floated toward him with her hands clasped in front of her and her chin held high.

“I’m sorry honey. I just really want this day to be perfect, and I know I’m a little high strung but I think I’ll be ok now.” Abigail said full of sincerity.“I know babe, it’s finally time to relax and just enjoy our lives together.” Ryan said. Just then a young usher trotted up to the pair.“I’m sorry Mrs. Pressman but do you know where there are more napkins? We seem to be out.” He said. Abigail turned to him with no change int her face “Out? We are out of Napkins? Did you hear that sweetie? No napkins. Isn’t it grand? Isn’t it amazing? None, zip, zero napkins at all! Isn’t that the greatest mother fucking thing you’ve ever heard!?” Abigail yelled, still with a wide smile on her face.

The entire reception was shocked into silence by her behavior. Abigail then began to spin and dance by herself and humming the wedding march. She twirled over to the food table and bumped into it. “Oh look, all this food it going to go to waste now that we don’t have any napkins better get rid of it!” She finished by grabbing fistfuls of her wedding cake and shoveling it down her throat. It only took her five minutes to devour the towering confection and she moved on the ham and the shrimp and steadily gobbled down as much food as she could, People moved to stop her as she went but halted when they saw what was happening to her.

The ordinarily fit woman seemed to be plumping up a bit. Before Abby’s dress clung to her slim torso and accentuated her full breasts but now it looked like it pinched and bulged everywhere. Her arms thickened with every piece of shrimp and looked more flabby. Her dress fit less and less as she went on, the hips flaring out as her panties and lingerie tore from the added fat. Her bust outright giving up as her fat tits fell out and continued to fatten up. The stitching on her waist snapping one by one as her belly surged out and fell over her hips in front of her.

Finally her mother moved over to her and tried to stop her daughter from becoming a fat pig (a little late by the way). “Abigail! Stop this right now, look at yourself!” She said.“Oh mom, don’t worry I know what to do.” Abigail grabbed her mother by the shoulders and planted a messy kiss on her mouth. “This’ll make up for the napkins” she said and pushed her mother to her knees. She tore the rest of her dress away leaving her totally naked, as pulled her mothers face into her groin and began to vigorously hump her mothers shocked expression. This went on for five minuets before she let her go and moved onto the next nearest person falling down and humping the leg of her best friend Kate.

Abigail went on “making up for the napkins” until she had humped nearly everything in the area including her brothers dogs. Nobody seemed to have the will to make the chubby woman stop. The priest had managed to avoid her by running over the podium, Abigail stopped when she say the microphone stand. She grabbed the micro phone and began speaking, it took her a few more minutes until she realized she was holding the mike upside down. “Hehe sorry everybody, I’m such a total ditz right?” She said between obnoxious snorting laughter. “But now everybody should be happy and all the food is gone so now we don’t need napkins! Everybody’s happy! Now me and the hubbs are gonna contia…conte…concert the marriage! That means we’re gonna fuck and fuck and fuck and fuck!”

Abigail dropped the mike and skipped straight toward her new, confused (and just a little aroused) husband. She excitedly jumped up and down, her belly and tits bouncing up and down and said “Let’s make some babies babe!”

The End. Hope y’all like it!