#it's very weird because he's an absolutely cutthroat and cold guy

[arcxnumvitae]

Another one who, despite how he is as a person, I actually think wouldn't be a bad partner at all. For the romantic identity part that have lines I shrugged and feel like it's in that area depending on mood and time. He's more neutral on what he likes in a partner, but once again, that's because his hardline requirements are more pragmatic and aren't really on the list aside from confidence and the like.

[ruffsficstuffplace]

The Keeper of the Grove (Part 32)

Weiss had another dream her second night in the Valley.

She was sitting in a classroom this time, the esteemed halls of the Arcturus Institute of the Arts and Sciences, the school for children of the rich, the famous, and the ridiculously smart as Lumania continued to lose scholars, funding, and prestige to Candela. Her classmates were all the same: beautiful, fashionable, and bored out of their skulls.

The presentation going on at their respective HV receivers was yet another lecture of the history of Candela, specifically about one of its chief founders: her maternal grandfather, Nicholas Schnee. She used to love watching this video just for fun, until it reminded her far too much of how far everything had fallen the moment “Ole Nick kicked the bucket, and left it all to Jack.”

She knew the narration by heart:

“Ever increasing demand for raw materials and power, and ever dwindling natural resources and overloaded wellsprings. Overpopulated and fatally congested cities, and with yet more citizens being born and moving in every day. Rampant corruption, social unrest, city states at war, driven by survival, greed, and just pure, unbridled hate towards anyone deemed the ‘Other.’

“The world of Avalon seemed on the brink of collapse, brought down by the blinding speed of its technological advancement, scandal after scandal in the Church of the Holy Shepherd, the splintering of Captain Piorina 'Piper' Nikos’ once-unified people into the three distinct regions of the Nexus, Solaris, and Zeal.

“It was a time of strife, of uncertainty, of fear; all over, citizens cowered, crushed by the weight of anxiety; fought and killed each other over the scraps; or did their best to hold together a society that was fast falling apart at the very seams.

“And in these darkest hours, when all hope seemed lost, a hero emerged, a man who could not just stand by and let the light of humanity starve itself to death.

“Born in the cutthroat, dog-eat-dog streets and canals of Valentino, trained with the Armed Forces of Avalon in the Nexus, the leader that put an end to the petty in-fighting of Lumania’s academics and scientists, who united the best of the Triumvirate and formed a brave band of scouts, soldiers, settlers, and scientists to venture off into the barren wastelands of the Acropolis, and found our salvation:

“Nicholas Schnee!”

The holo went on to a cliched shot of her grandfather, standing on a mountain top, his energy sword in one hand and his lucky plasma pistol in the other, looking proudly over the foundations of what was to become Candela.

Then, he looked over to Weiss, sheathed his weapons, and stuck out a hand through the holo.

Weiss didn’t even blink as she took it and pulled him out.

“Ah, much better!” Nick said as he climbed out, onto Weiss’ desk. “Thanks, sweetheart; been doing that same stupid pose for far too long...” he grumbled as he climbed down to the floor.

Desensitized and apathetic, no one else noticed.

“Come on, Weiss, let’s get out of here,” Nick said, putting a rough, calloused hand on Weiss’ back.

She happily got up and followed him outside of the classroom, to a giant expanse of pure white.

“Are you actually the spirit of my grandfather, or just my subconscious personified as him?” Weiss asked as they walked.

Nick shrugged. “Who knows! I'd say ask an expert, but if there’s one thing any person who actually knows their stuff will tell you, it’s how much shit they don’t know about. I’ve talked to and learned from enough to know the difference between the real deal, and a phony talking out of their ass.”

Weiss nodded. “So what are you here for, anyway?”

“To give you a pep-talk!” Nick replied, stopping and gently poking her in the chest. “What happened to you, Weiss?”

“Where do I start?” Weiss chirped, smiling. “Shall it be the night I learned that the Keeper of the Grove is actually real and my entire life began to collapse right before my very eyes? Will it be finally getting my sister back after so many years, for all of three days before she was taken away from me again, probably for forever? Ooh, ooh, can it be when I faked my own death because apparently my father considers his stupid ego more important than his own daughter’s life?”

“Wow, keeping it light, aren’t you?” Nick replied flatly.

“Forgive me, but for these past few weeks, life has been repeatedly chewing me up, spitting me out, setting me on fire, then putting out the flames by peeing on me for shits and giggles!”

Nick raised his hands in surrender. “Okay! I get it! I’m sorry! Wrong way to to start off a pep-talk right there!” he yelled. He sighed, and they walked in silence for a few moments. “Let me try again: what does the name ‘Schnee’ mean, Weiss?”

“Unsafe labour conditions? Unethical practices and rampant corruption? Profit over the lives of people?” Weiss replied.

Nick scowled. “Let me be more specific: what did the name ‘Schnee’ mean, before that jackass I regret is my son-in-law and I regret even more is your father went and fucked it up for everyone?”

Weiss sighed. “It meant determination. Quality. Hard work, top-notch service, and cutting-edge technology, all with the goal of making the world a better place to live in for everyone, not just the guys at the top.”

“Exactly! And how did it come to mean that way?”

“You went off on an expedition and found Candela.”

“Wrong. What happened was that I saw the shit all around me, had nothing to my name but washing out at Rank 5 with the Queensguard, and decided if I was going to die penniless and starving on a cold, hard floor, it may as well have been while I was trying to do something to not be poor, hungry, and homeless.

“Me and the original crew, we had no idea what we were looking for, where we were going to find it, or what we’d have to do to get it back to our friends and families back home; all we knew was that we were sick and tired of standing around doing nothing, or spinning our wheels and spraying mud all over ourselves.

“The history books keep skipping to the part where we somehow, magically found ourselves the biggest damn wellspring of raw magic in the history books, one that also happened to sitting over a shit-ton of precious minerals, as if somehow, I had a vision and I just knew we’d have to cross a giant-ass blacktop by night and avoid getting turned to people-jerky by day to get to it.”

His face softened. “But it wasn’t that way, Weiss. You’ve read my journals, haven’t you?”

Weiss nodded. “The ones that didn’t get eaten, destroyed, or lost in some way, at least.”

“What’d they say? What’d I talk about?”

“About how much all of your lives sucked. About how you were constantly cold, hungry, starving, lost,  had absolutely no idea what any of you were doing, and kept discovering new levels to the ‘How-Fucked-We-Are-O-Meter’ every day. And about the many, many, many times you got sick from trying to purify bad water and testing the results on yourself, even when you recruited grandma whose doctorate was entirely about that.”

Nick pointed a finger at her. “Exactly. And on a related note, make sure to keep on drinking that purified water from Penny and shut your mouth in the hot springs; all those hours I spent on the crapper could have been spent on something infinitely better, I tell ya.”

Weiss winced. “I will. Believe me, grandpa, you made VERY detailed notes.”

“You’re damn right I did! And what else did I do?”

“You trained hard and fought smart—talk first, shoot last, threats never. You made friends wherever you could find them, whoever they were because you never knew who was going to stick around when times got rough. You learned about everything you didn’t know, and were always ready to admit you were wrong so you could start being less wrong.”

Nick put his hands on Weiss shoulders. “And what are you going to do, sweetheart?” he asked softly.

Weiss sighed and looked away. “Spend the rest of my life as paid test subject, I guess...”

Nick shook his head. “Wrong answer, sweetheart, and I know you didn't need me to tell you that.”

“Well what am I supposed to do, huh?” Weiss snapped as she began to tear up. “I’m not you, grandpa!”

“True...” Nick smiled as he put his finger over her heart. “But you’re still a Schnee.”

The white light began to fade.

“Turn this shit life of yours around, Weiss,” he said as he began to disappear, too. “For me, for Ruby and all the other Fae, and most importantly, for yourself.”  

Weiss woke up.

She opened her eyes, before she shut them in a hurry. It was morning in the Valley once more, and the light of Avalon’s suns were still as painfully bright as ever. She turned to her other side and started climbing out of her hammock.

Ruby looked over her shoulder from where she was sitting at her terminal. “Oh, hey! You’re awake!” she said as she sat up and dashed over. “You ready to get started on my new super awesome idea?” she said as she helped Weiss out. “I promise it’s better than the last one!”

Weiss nodded sleepily. “Where do I have to go this time?” she asked as she stretched.

“Just outside! Oh, and skip breakfast for now and change into one of your work dresses—they’re the ones that feel a little rougher compared to the rest.” She thumbed to the door. “I’ll leave and get things ready!”

“Wait! Ruby, before you go: have you ever eaten so many cookies and milk that you had a REALLY weird dream afterward? Like, ‘seeing and talking to your dead relatives’ weird?”

Ruby chuckled. “Oh my gosh, like ALL THE TIME! There was one like a week back where I dreamed you, me, my sister Yang, and Blake were like a team of Watchers fighting off these monsters made from hate, jealousy and Mondays, and we all went to this special school together just for that!”

Weiss stared at her. “What is IN those cookies?”

“Uh, milk, flour, eggs, butter, sugar, vanilla, chocolate chips, and a little salt? Why do you ask?”

Weiss groaned. “Nevermind...”

The house was completely empty save for Blake in the kitchen, entirely focused on slicing up her tuna with loving precision; Weiss ignored the growling of her stomach as she headed out the front door and down the elevator.

Ruby was waiting by a giant patch of land infested with weeds, rocks, trees, and all manner of debris that had washed in during the Flood. Beside her was a rack of tools, mostly for farming and some for construction.

The wood was all aged and worn, probably centuries-old like everything in Keeper’s Hollow, but the metal parts were brand new, freshly sharpened and shined.

“You want me clean up your yard?” Weiss asked, eying the overgrowth dubiously.

“No, I want you to try and bring the old farm back to life!” Ruby replied, holding up a bag of seeds. “Starting with these sweet potatoes!”

Weiss turned to the barn in the distance, the one with the tree growing right through its roof. “This place used to be a farm?”

“Yep! Way back when, Gabija’s husband, wife, or whatever they were started a garden here, and it kept on expanding until it became a full-on farm, with Tenders and animals and everything!

“My family’s been kinda on-and-off about it, because Keepers only tend to ever have the one kid, and even then we’re more Watchers than Tenders, but the land’s always good. My dad grew a LOT of great things here—well, before he got banished, anyway.

“So, what do you say? Want to get to work?” Ruby asked, holding up her scythe.

Weiss nodded. “On one condition: I do all of it.”

Ruby blinked, then frowned. “You sure about this, Weiss?”

“Yes,” Weiss said as she walked up to the rack, and picked up a machete.

It took a few hours, but Weiss managed to beat back a little patch of ground, just enough to plant three neat rows of five seeds each, with a little buffer to build a fence in the future. She watered her crops with a giant, 10-liter can, before set it down in the dirt, and followed it soon after.

She sat on the ground, panting, sweating, covered in mud, arms and legs aching, yet feeling better than she had in a while.

Ruby handed her a bottle of purified water and a towel; Weiss thanked her, before she dumped all of the former over her head and wiped herself up with the later, as the suns were already well-up in the sky.

“So how many weeks am I looking at here?” Weiss asked as she caught her breath.

Ruby snorted. “Weeks? Weiss, these are sweet potatoes, they’ll be ready to harvest in three days.”

“Three days?!” Weiss cried. “How is that even possible?”

“Uh, because this is the Valley? Haven’t you noticed how things tend to grow super big and super fast here...?”

“Right...” Weiss muttered.

The two of them stayed there for a few moments, looking at the tiny garden Weiss had started, the many acres more of debris and overgrowth around it.

“It’s going to be a LONG time before I can hope to get this farm up and running again...” Weiss said.

“Yeeep,” Ruby replied. She smiled at her. “But it’s a start.”

Weiss smiled back. “Yeah. It’s a start.”

Beat.

“Do you need me to carry you back home?”

“Yes please...”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Summer in the City - Chapter 3

Fic: Summer in the City - Chapter 3 (AO3 Link) Fandom: The Flash Pairing: Mick Rory/Barry Allen

Summary: Barry Allen is a good CSI, but this whole stupid Heatwave serial killer thing is just killing him.

Or, you know, people around him.

Luckily for him, he’s always got Mick to complain to…

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"I'm starting to think you're cheating on me with another pizza place, you call so late," Mick chuckles.

Barry smiles, phone tucked into the crook of his neck. "My job keeps me busy," he replies. "I wasn't sure you'd still be open."

"For you, I stay open."

Barry snickers. "Send me something I'd like, then," he says, suddenly feeling spontaneous.

"Not the usual?"

"Nah. I trust you."

"You're a trusting type of guy - and also a jerk, since you've given me no time to prep anything."

"Sorry," Barry laughs. "I promise to order the same tomorrow, how's that? Tonight just get me something fast."

"I'm holding you to that. Delivery'll be in twenty."

"You're the best. No desserts this time!"

"You're too skinny."

"You've never even met me!"

"You sound too skinny. Are you telling me you're not skinny?"

"Well, no," Barry concedes. He's not underweight, but he is, admittedly, a little skinny. "I just wouldn't say too skinny..."

"I bet," Mick says smugly. "Dessert tomorrow, then."

"Something with fruit involved, at least?"

"Can do."

"Thanks, Mick," Barry says, then hesitates. On one hand, he doesn't want to make this weird. On the other, he's been thinking it for a while. Might as well. "Is it sad that talking to you is a highlight of my day?"

"Not any sadder than the fact that talking to you's a highlight of mine," Mick replies immediately. "We're both very sad; just accept it."

Barry smiles. Mick's the best. "Good to hear. I'd better hang up - I'm going to eat then go straight to sleep, since I've got a busy day tomorrow."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, interviews. We're following up on some things with some of the big labs in the city: Palmer Tech in the morning, then STAR Labs in the afternoon. Ramon Foundation tomorrow unless something comes up. Can't give you details, of course..."

"Of course. Have fun on your busy day, Barry."

Barry really likes hearing Mick say his name.

The food that shows up ends up not even being pizza, which Barry fully expected, but a medium-cooked ribeye with béarnaise sauce and some asparagus. One of the stalks looks like it's been nibbled on, like Mick grabbed the steak off of someone else's plate, but that's silly. Barry's sure Mick just grabbed whatever was available.

Honestly, he hadn't even remembered that this place did non-pizza stuff. They must have transitioned over to regular Italian as well.

It's delicious, as usual, which he reports to Mick with a smile (he vaguely thinks he hears someone yowling about having their plate stolen out from under them because someone can't man up about their goddamn crush, but Mick assures him it’s just the radio), and he sleeps well but still manages to wake up to his fourth alarm, so he even makes it to the front door of Palmer Tech on time.

Barry's not sure how he feels about Palmer Tech. The guy in charge of it - Raymond Palmer - was a player in Starling City politics and business for a while, which made everyone wonder why he was opening a branch in Central. The more generous said it was a natural expansion, taking advantage of the generous state interest in funding laboratories and scientific development generally; the less generous whispered about the corruption of the business class in Starling - that awful earthquake - and the slender gap left in the Families' supply of good money laundering operations after Snart had started his little meta crusade against them.

From what Barry's seen of his interviews, Ray Palmer seems like a pretty decent, upstanding guy, but Barry's more cynical side points out that the guy thinks of himself as an inventor - even humanitarian - first, businessman second, and that doesn't tally with his business' recent ruthless rise in market share, so either Ray Palmer has a hidden cold streak or he's got a second in command that's the real head of the business, someone with a real killer instinct.

"Barry, you're on time," Joe says, smile firmly affixed onto his face and on Eddie's. "Great. We're just waiting to see Mr. Palmer himself."

"What, personally?" Barry asks, frowning. "He's coming all the way from Starling?"

"Already arrived. Be nice, okay? We'll talk with him a few minutes and move on to the serious questions once he's assured us he had no idea what was going on, there'll be serious inquiries, the usual crap."

"Got it," Barry says. "Morning, Eddie."

"Good morning," Eddie says, looking tired. Then again, he recently got moved high enough up that he gave the media announcement this morning - the regular update on the Heatwave case, i.e. “Nothing yet but we’re working on it” - and he looks like he's been savaged by a bunch of media wildcats. But Iris’ boyfriend still has time to smile warmly at Barry, because he's always been incredibly sympathetic to Barry's plight (once Barry indicated he was getting over it and after one punch-in-the-face incident which Barry totally gets).

Just at that minute, Ray Palmer himself, recognizable from the fact that he's as tall as Barry and from the broad white-toothed smile you could see on all the advertisements, comes through the door, flanked by two blonde women.

"Detectives West, Thawne," he says, hand outstretched, seeming actually pleased to see them, not like he's secretly annoyed by these people trampling all over his lab at all. "I heard you'd called. And this is..?"

"CSI Barry Allen," Barry says, shaking Palmer's hand. "I'm accompanying the detectives today."

Palmer brightens like Barry said something incredibly interesting. "Wow, it's really great to meet you!"

"...really?"

"He watches too many police procedurals," one of the blonde women cuts in smoothly. Her smile is just a bit wicked. "Welcome, all three of you."

"This is Sara Lance," Palmer says. "She's my VP of Operations. And this is Felicity Smoak; she runs our R&D/Tech side."

"You didn't have to bring all the big brass, Mr. Palmer," Joe says. "We told you, we're just following up on the theft that you experienced a few months back."

"Naturally," Palmer says. "And please, call me Ray! I just wanted you to know how seriously we've been taking this issue. Sara and I will be taking you on the tour ourselves."

Everyone's smile gets a little more fixed onto their faces, because that's...great. If by great you mean absolutely awful. It's a careful balance in Central City between investigating with the full power of the city and state behind you, and not pissing off the politicians who count on the political donations and economic stimulus that rich people like Palmer brought with them when they expanded into Central.

Palmer was the politician's second favorite type of rich guy: spends a lot of money in Central building his business, but mostly concerned about politics in Starling and therefore no threat to their positions.

(Their first favorite type of rich guy being the kind that is willing to give them personally a lot of money.)

"We're delighted to have you as guides," Eddie says, even managing to sound partially sincere. "Thank you for taking the time. Ms. Smoak, you won't be joining us?"

"No, I just came here to see - uh, the investigation. How the investigation was. Was going! I'm R&D, you know, so I care a lot about theft. I mean, about investigations! Investigations into theft. Also in general. " She covers her flushing cheeks and closes her eyes. "Please pretend that made sense."

"Perfect sense," Barry assures her. "I do it all the time."

She opens her eyes and grins at him. "You're nice!" she exclaims, sounding a bit surprised. "I wouldn't have thought."

"The cops aren't all bad," Barry says, suppressing a smile. "Don't believe everything you see on TV."

“I’m glad we got the nice cops,” Felicity says, grinning at him.

“You have the luck of coming first in the alphabet,” Barry says, giving up and returning her smile. “So you get to go before STAR Labs this afternoon.”

This was true except for the Ramon Foundation, which started in the phone book somewhere after ZZ.

“Thank you, alphabet,” Felicity says with a laugh.

"We’re very thankful indeed," the other woman - Sara Lance, Ray had called her - cuts in smoothly. "Shall we begin our tour?"

Barry can feel the exchange of glances behind his back at the neat, careful people management, and he concurs entirely. Sara's too young to be behind Palmer Tech’s initial rise to prominence, which was mostly based on the sheer creativity of Ray Palmer’s inventions, but Barry would bet dollars to donuts that they've just met the brain behind its recent cutthroat expansionism.

Despite their initial fears, Ray actually proves to know something about the tech side of his business and is able to answer questions, rather than regurgitating a set of talking points crafted by a set of lawyers in a dark room somewhere.

"This is our Dynamite lab," he says. "That's a little joke, you see -"

"Thermodynamics," Barry says with a grin. "That's funny."

"You sure you want to keep up with this CSI stuff?" Ray asks. "We're always looking for good science people."

"And I haven't even pulled out my mad skillz yet," Barry says.

"No one says that anymore," Sara says, looking amused. "Assuming they said it, ever."

"It's definitely a first for a police investigation," Joe says pointedly.

Barry zips it.

Well, he tries. Ray's actually really nice - sure, he gets distracted sometimes and goes on tangents involving the possible uses of a dwarf star alloy, but that's super interesting to Barry's mind.

Just - maybe not that relevant to the investigation.

"So where exactly did you say the - ah - 'heat gun alloy' was?" Joe finally says.

"Over here," Ray says, gesturing at a set of shelves.

"You just let it sit out there?" Eddie says, frowning. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"It was only a model," Ray says. "We had eventually intended to make it into a gun, but we hadn't gotten anywhere near that point yet. Honestly, it was really just a lump of metal and some plans to show how it could be shaped to deal with the heat. The design of the alloy was meant to let it go up to as close as humanity has yet reached to absolute hot - which is to say, very, very hot - in a logistical manner, assuming you could fashion some source of energy that could get you the power you'd need to get there. The designs were suggestions on how to strengthen the metal so that it wouldn't melt by itself."

"That’s why the dwarf star alloys!" Barry exclaims. "If you make metal in part out of stuff that's been exposed to stars -"

"There's nothing on earth that should be able to melt it," Ray says, beaming. "Exactly! Are you sure I can't offer you a job?"

"Quite sure," Barry laughs. "But thanks for the offer. Can I examine the area?"

"You're welcome to, but it's been cleaned. And, well, a lab..."

"Industrial strength cleaner," Barry says, nodding. He's not going to find anything. But he'll look.

"While Mr. Allen does that, can you take us to your security system?" Eddie asks. "We'd like to look at the logs of who might have been able to access the alloy over the last few months."

"Sure," Ray says, though he looks longingly over to where Barry is unpacking his kit. "Follow me."

Barry's working by himself when there's a noise from outside. A crash, then barely audible cursing.

It's totally none of Barry's business.

Besides, it's a lab. If he wants to look out a window, he'd have to stand on a table, and that would be super unprofessional.

Naturally, Barry finds himself on his tip-toes on one of the sturdier-looking tables in under a minute.

He'd get down and scrub it off before anyone notices.

There's a guy in the alley outside, big guy, bald, shoulders round with muscle that's apparent under his cloth jacket even from Barry's vantage point. He looks pretty hot, though Barry can't see his face.

He's talking to Felicity Smoak, who seems to have knocked over a trash can and is waving her hands emphatically and bouncing a little on her toes in excitement.

Maybe he's an employee?

But if that's the case, why are they talking in an alleyway instead of indoors? He wouldn't have pegged Felicity as a smoker.

Huh. Weird.

There's a noise from the door and Barry has to scramble to get down from his perch in time to play it casual by the right table.

The table next to the right table. Damnit!

"Oh, good, you're done," Ray says, beaming as he sweeps into the room, luckily not noticing Barry’s unusual placement. Joe looks tired of Ray's sunny optimism already and Eddie's got his thinking face firmly fixed on. "Any chance I can take you all out to eat? I know a great Italian place..."

"Sorry," Joe says, only barely managing sincere. "We can't be seen to be influenced by someone even peripherally involved in an investigation."

"Well, maybe when your investigation is done, then," Ray says.

"We'll review department policy," Joe says, meaning hell no.

Ray and Sara then proceed to bustle them out in a haze of overwhelming good cheer that explains why Joe is looking like he's on the verge of murder. There's nothing like someone being aggressively, cheerfully unhelpful when you've running on three cups of coffee and no sleep.

Felicity's in the lobby, waving goodbye, and as Barry passes her, he notices the faintest smell of smoke lingering on her clothing.

Guess she is a smoker after all.

Though, that mention of Italian has him craving dinner...