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sereisstuff · 5 years ago

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𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 7

Demon! Kim Taehyung x chubby reader

The tales purpose - you accidentally summoned the prince of darkness and now he wants something in return, so he makes you his fiance to trick his father Hades into giving him the crown.

summary - Taehyung doesn’t like the feeling of his new profound emotions but you still contemplate yourself in the presence of the demi-god of love

Genre’s - romance, fantasy, comedy and angst

“Where is she?” Namjoon asked curiously, his large framed glasses sitting neatly on the bridge of his nose as he grasped his books with security, composing himself and then examining his tucked-in button-up “a greeting would have been much delighted” Taehyung snarked making Namjoon internally groan, never missed you, he thought. The comment making Taehyung pout dramatically.

Their figures were drowned out by the population of mortals desiring a decent coffee to begin their day, Taehyung chuckled knowing all too well that most of the coffees sold here were absolutely disgusting but due to the aesthetically pleasing look of the cafe catching the eye of everyone, they assumed it was delicious, wrong.

“Well that wasn’t very nice Namjoonie”

“You guys fought didn’t you” Namjoon fixed his glassed that began to slip, smirking to himself as he watched his friend looked anxiously away and for the first time Namjoon witnessed something other than lust and rage coursing through his demonic friend “I dare not call it a fight maybe somewhat a disagreement” Taehyung cooly played off what clearly was an argument.

“Disagreement in what term?” Namjoon questioned, thanking the waitress who set his iced coffee down onto the table, Taehyung gagged at the smell “the indecency is bewildering, honestly if you can’t make a good coffee why open the shop” he complained completely off task, “focus!!” Namjoon ordered snapping his fingers in the air sassily, gaining a raised brow from the demigod, “someones grew some balls overnight” this sly comment had managed to snap Namjoon catching even himself off guard, he calmly inhaled the fresh scent of coffee beans and untensed his shoulders.

“Why did you call me?” he politely asked taking a sip of his coffee as he hummed in pleasure, the young demigod rubbed a finger between his brows too eager to hide whatever he was supposedly hiding so clearly in his mind yet he couldn’t submit an answer to even himself “you like the girl don’t you” Namjoon blurted.

Taehyungs eyes widened and then he stood up in a hurry “why would you assume such a thing, a mortal, PFT. That’s low even for me Kim Namjoon” Taehyung rambled on and on continuously making up excuses as to why his liking to you was zero to none and all Namjoon did was wait patiently, something he’s good at, analyzing Taehyungs posture, the way his body moves when he speaks. Searching for signs.

“...even the way she frowns when she’s curious just, ugh” he sat back down running a hand through his thick locks so desperate to find the cure to his unknown feelings, Namjoon smiled, not in a condescending way but more in a way where new life and plot was found, in a way that he was beyond happy one could barely measure and it was all because the thought of angsty love softened his heart.

“I’m fucked aren’t I” Namjoon patted his back in reassurance “you’ll be fine plus she doesn’t meet your father anytime soon, it’ll give you more time to assess yourself” but taehyung gazed up at his friend, gazing into his glasses examining his thick lashes all while narrowing his eyes “she meets him tomorrow” He revealed stupidly. Namjoon gasped releasing a loud laugh bounding in fits of wheezy laughter “in more poetic words, thou shall see thy partner in the depths of flames” Namjoon had tears pooling in his eyes as he slapped his thighs turning them light pink.

During his laughter he heard a crack emit from somewhere, opening his eyes as he saw a smug Taehyung through the lens of his cracked glasses “seriously!!, you know your incredibly petty” Namjoon snapped “can’t help it” Taehyung shrugged, Kim Namjoon was once mistaken as a god, even Taehyung couldn’t differ the difference between the intelligent mortal and his own kind due to his own inability of seeking past Namjoons fabricated walls of spells and protections.

They sat in silence for a moment watching the mixture of emotions the little demon phased through, biting and itching at his skin for a few seconds before growling and replacing his lost puppy look with a darkened glare “fuck it” he spat, gripping at the sides of the table hunching his back over it to bend down to his friend who seemed more than disturbed with the outcome of this extremely small talk.

Namjoon shook his head “you can’t go to her in this state Taehyung you must let her be” Namjoon commanded in hushed tones, trying to settle his friends raging feelings “why should I!?! It’s all her fault” The witch shook his head, sighing in a disapproving way as he tilted his head down before gaining the will power to stare into his obsidian orbs once more.

“You have to remember that you, Kim Taehyung, Son of Hades. Let a mere mortal overcome his emotions when all he had to do was his daily duties, one can’t control fate but the past was your mistake she is not to blame but this” now Namjoon stood, strong and powerful, poking at Taehyung’s chest with his middle finger “this thing you call a heart is to blame, you fell before she even had time to know your name” and with that, he left, thanking the barista as the bells chimed upon his exit.

Taehyung breathed heavily, glaring so harshly into the table that began cracking under his fingertips unaware of the crowd of people who gasped as a shaky waitress stumbled her way over to Taehyung, placing a soft hand against his shoulder making Taehyung snap his head in her direction fighting the urge to throw her body across the cafe “sir, a-are y-you alright?” she tried but Taehyung shoved her hand of wincing at the contact.

“I’m fine” he swore harshly, rushing out of the cafe to find you.

……………………………………………………………………….

You walked in the middle of the forest, following the deep muddy path which was created by the multiple cars racing through at odd hours of the day which you weren’t bothered about, you only came here to clear your head of these aching thoughts, the forest did a great deal in this, admiring the tall trees rooting deeply in the earth just like you, who had already removed your shoes palming at the damp floor with your toes as you refreshed your mind.

Although you wished time was no longer a thing, you cursed knowing that it was as the flap of a wing could be heard not too far from you and yet it wasn’t a bird, definitely not, this thing sounded large and the wind blew harshly as it landed just beside you “Hello” a high pitched voice said, out of shook you opened your eyes quickly with the mild pace of your heart racing like it was on a track.

There standing in front of you was jimin, a cute smile on his lips “H-hey” you replied, flinching away from him with a suspicious gaze noticing the effect it had on him, feeling your emotions as if they were his own, he frowned “I’m not a threat, y/n” he tried to place a reassuring hand on you but you continued to flinch causing him to feel a trip of guilt erupting in his stomach “I won’t be too sure about that” you muttered unconsciously, remembering the outburst which happened last night causing you to go through a series of vivid nightmares which still shook your core.

All because Taehyung believed you.

“I assure you y/n, I won’t hurt you I-i just don’t have many people to tag along with so I thought I could possibly tagalongwithyou?” he rushed the ending with his hands crossed neatly behind his back, his eyes no longer existed but moon crescents took their place instead “well if you wanna stand in the dirt with me, then please, feel free” you lowered you guard feeling that he wasn’t, in fact, a threat.

You began to notice his white wings stretching behind his back which brought a gasp from your lips “what is it?” jimin yelled, looking behind his back only to see his own wings of purity behind him “oh, those”

“I didn’t see those at the party” your tone was now laced with curiosity, “just a trick I learnt from my friend to hide them away, some mortals are quite far gone within hade’s underworld that my wings would be cut off and show in pride if I was to show them out in public,” Jimin said sadly, stripping himself of his shoes and digging himself into the cold damp floors just like you “mortals are hilarious”

Jimin looked at you knowing deep down that those feelings of love were because of the person you were thinking about, getting him all excited after all he was the son of aphrodite “is something, Taehyung would say” he finished for you making you hum in enjoyment.

“What does it feel like?” you blurted out, eyes shut tight with anxiety crippling at your insides but you cleared your thoughts replacing those once dark thoughts with innocence, spiritually holding mother natures hands in your own as you began to relax again “you mean love?” he already knew what you were going to ask, one of his many gifts.

“Yeah”

“well it’s like a deep intense feeling of warmth, some may not know their in love, some may only come to the conclusion when it’s too late but I’m not too good at explaining it?” you silently agreed with every word.

“Well, now I can admit that I’m glimpsing in love and I don’t know if I wanna fall deeper or run”

(I’m back but not for too long cause I’ve had this in my drafts for a while soo I thought why not also happy new years, my loves, following this chapter will be another chapter for our water spirited friend Jeon Jungkook, please comment and or reblog I’m not too fussed if you don’t at all, xoxo.)

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@sugarrimajins

@bluemooncnblue

@fivesecondsofsarang

@nabo39

@camilaxpolanco

@sununicorn

@alex--awesome--22

@thealexalcala

@damnedandbroken

@aylinstrash

@bookoffracturedescapes

#kim taehyung #kim taehyung scenarios #kim taehyung imagines #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung #bts taehyung #taehyung scenarios #taehyung imagine #Demon!Taehyung #taehyung x oc #taehyung x chubby reader #taehyung x you #kim taehyung x you #Taehyung x plus size reader #kim taehyung x oc #Greek god au

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robininthelabyrinth · 6 years ago

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Fic: An Internal Affair - Chapter 16 (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.

—————————————————————————————————

"So the plan for today is to search STAR Labs, right?" Barry asks, mentally reviewing his calendar.

"That's right," Cisco says, tossing his pencil up into the air a bit too high and fumbling the catch. "Wells is taking that video conference call from home today, the long one, and it should take him all morning. I've dialed into it myself to make sure he's still on the call and repositioned some satellites with infrared detection in his direction to make sure it's actually, y'know, him and not like a hologram or something. I'll be monitoring it all from here." He makes a face. "Now I can listen to him talk to the accountants."

"I'm glad I don't have to do that," Joe remarks, slouching against one of the computer desk. "No offense, Cisco, but that sounds boring as hell."

"It is, but I can play video games at the same time," Cisco tells him. "The joy of multiple screens."

Joe shakes his head mournfully, clearly despairing of this new generation.

"Give up, Cisco," Caitlin teases. "He's never going to appreciate your technology."

"Joe, you've started looking into the Dibny thing I told you about yesterday, right?" Barry asks, ignoring their interplay. He's charged up with energy today - the speed training, whatever Wells' goal with it, is definitely working, and ever since things have gone well with Len...

The phrase 'walking on air' comes to mind.

Barry's having to make an effort to ensure he doesn't accidentally walk on air, literally.

"Yeah, yeah," Joe says. "I asked a few guys over in Vice to check out what Dibny's up to; they've promised to get back to me later today, maybe tomorrow. Y'know, I'm still not sure it isn't just your old grudge against the guy coming up again, but since you got Cold's authorization for the search, it's probably still worth checking out."

Joe's voice has gone bitter. Again.

Barry scowls at him. "Joe, we've talked about this. Yes, we're dating. No, this isn't some sort of 'secret plan' to get at us; he's a good cop and he wants to do the right thing, and the right thing right now is taking down the Man in Yellow –”

“Reverse Flash,” Cisco interjects.

“– and he’s helping us with that. And you can stop hinting that he's only agreeing to look into Dibny because I'm dating him any time now!"

"I wasn't saying that!"

"It was implied," Caitlin says. "Heavily."

"And you did kinda do the same thing to Iris and Eddie Thawne when they first started dating," Cisco points out meekly.

Joe crosses his arms and scowls.

"Why don't we focus on our search of STAR Labs?" Cisco hastily suggests in an obvious bid to change the subject. "Thanks to Iris' digging, we've managed to map out the parts of the Accelerator built by Zoom Contracting, and thus probably by the Reverse Flash; if he hid something inside of STAR Labs, it's probably there. Barry, you ready?"

"Sure am," Barry says. "Let's start with -"

A door slams in the hallway and they all freeze.

"Wells?" Joe asks, his hand automatically dropping to his belt.

Cisco squints at his screen. "No, he's still on the call - he's even talking. Can’t be him."

"Then who -?"

Another door, and then the off-beat echo of footsteps, accompanied by a heavy thump every few seconds.

Barry knows that thumping walk quiet well, though the individual responsible has never been to STAR Labs before.

"Len..?"

Len comes through the door.

Barry is already stepping forward, starting to smile automatically at the sight of his boyfriend despite being unsure of what brings him to STAR Labs unannounced, but Len's expression - bloodless lips pressed tightly together, face tight and pale with rage, jaw clenched - makes him pause, as does Kara following him close behind, an extremely worried expression on her face.

"Len?" he asks, smile fading, replaced with worry. "What's wrong? What's happened? Is everyone okay?"

"Where are they?" Len demands, ignoring Barry’s questions. "Where have you put them?"

His voice is harsh, though it remains as cold as ever.

If Barry didn’t know him, he’d think Len was angry, but not furious; he’d think he was indifferent and coldly disapproving – but Barry does know Len. He’s seen him talk about Mick. He knows the overwhelming coldness that swallows Len up when he’s been ripped apart inside, the agony of pain and betrayal that he tries and fails to hide behind a layer of icy fury.

Len is unbelievably angry right now.

“Put who?” Barry asks, a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Who are you talking about? Who’s ‘them’?”

“The people,” Len snarls. “The ones with powers! Your victims!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Cisco says. “Victims? What the hell are you talking about?”

“That seems kind of uncalled for,” Caitlin says.

“Uncalled for?” Len says. “Uncalled for?”

He grits his teeth, obviously trying to rein in his temper enough to even speak.

Barry tries to look at Kara to see if something has happened, some meta similar to Bivolo affecting Len’s emotional state or something happening with Mick, but she’s refusing to meet his eyes.

Bad sign.

“Okay,” Len says after a moment, his voice even more controlled now. His hands are clenching so hard on his crutches that his knuckles have gone white; he’s clearly not actually calmed down at all. “Okay, let me rephrase and put this in a way that you people might understand –”

This does not bode well.

“– please tell me, without delay, where you people put the human beings – entitled to all human rights under international law – that are, just to add insult to injury, also United States citizens – with all the rights that entails under our legal system – that you fucking assholes assaulted, kidnapped, and illegally imprisoned?”

Oh shit.

“You know,” Len adds scathingly. “The ones you all didn’t tell me about?”

Barry’s brain just – freezes.

He’s gotten used to his mind moving faster than most people's, after the Accelerator, and even when he’s had his mind crash before, it was because he was thinking too many things at once.

Not now.

Complete stop.

Complete blank.

“Uh,” Cisco squeaks. “You – mean the metas?”

“Yeah,” Len says. “I mean the metas. You remember them, I hope? The ones that Barry here knocked out on the streets of Central City – battery, assault, maybe grievous bodily harm, I don’t know –”

No.

“ – and then moved without their consent – just so you know, legally we call that ‘kidnapping’ or ‘human trafficking’, take your pick –”

No.

“– in order to put in a secluded area in which they weren’t allowed to leave, aka, unlawful imprisonment. Do you want me to cite legal provisions at you? I can do that.”

No!

“It’s not like that,” Joe protests. “You don’t understand –”

“Oh, I understand all right,” Len cuts him off. “You – all of you – you think you’re judge, jury, and executioner all at once. Who needs the laws, huh? Who needs rights when some random civilians think they can do it all themselves – this is just like I thought it would be, right from the start –”

“It’s not like that!” Barry exclaims, finally regaining his voice.

Len finally looks at Barry. His expression is hard, but his eyes reflect the light – he’s got suppressed tears in his eyes. This is not easy for him; this is hurting him.

“Yes, Barry,” he says, and his voice is even a little gentle, just for Barry, when for anyone else it would stay sharp and unyielding. “It is like that. It’s exactly like that. You’re a CSI. You work for the CCPD. You took the same oath every cop takes, to uphold the laws and protect the people. You, you of all people, should know exactly how important it is to protect the right to a free and fair trial where you can defend yourself. And you still...you still took that right away from these people.”

Barry’s breath catches in his throat.

Len’s right.

Len, who cares so much about corruption –

Who feels personally betrayed by those who swore to respect the rule of law and then don’t –

Whose father was a dirty cop, whose life was ruined by a dirty cop, whose partner was nearly killed by a dirty cop –

Who confessed one day when it was just the two of them, curled together on a park bench, that he liked Barry from the very beginning, liked him a lot, but just couldn’t bring himself to trust that Barry really meant well – and how much it meant to him to find out that Barry wasn’t like that –

And now this.

The metas.

The metas they’d put away.

The disappearances that Len thought the Flash was responsible for – they weren’t all Family hits or related to STAR Labs, after all. Terri had had three piles of disappearances, after all: Family-related, STAR Labs-related…and Flash-related.

Len was so happy when he discovered that Barry wasn’t behind the disappearances.

But he was.

Kyle Nimbus. Jake Simmons. Tony Woodward. Shawna Baez. Mark Mardon.

Those disappearances?

They’re all him.

And Barry didn’t tell Len about them.

Oh, he never made a conscious decision to omit the information from what he told Len or to deliberately try to hide it. He was just so focused on how removing those names from the list of disappearances revealed things about their investigation, on how that narrowed-down list showed that Wells was up to something related to the Families, on how this new information got them a step closer to the answers, he never even thought about what it meant.

It never occurred to him to mention that those disappearances weren’t really disappearances; that he knew where they were; that he knew what had happened to them.

It wasn’t a deliberate deception at all.

Barry just forgot about them.

He’s pretty sure Len will think that that’s worse.

“It’s not like what happened with Barry’s dad at all,” Joe interjects, trying to salvage the unsalvageable. He takes a step forward, glaring at Len; he never liked Len, and undoubtedly sees this as yet another instance of that dislike, rather than the reckoning it really is. “These metas were committing crimes and harming people –”

“Even criminals have rights, Detective West,” Len snaps. The gentleness in his voice is gone. “All people do. The right to a fair trial. The right to a proper arrest. Or are you telling me that Barry here – who, let me remind you, is a private citizen, not even a cop, and thus not authorized to even arrest anybody – Miranda’d all the metas before taking them in?”

“I –”

“No, please, tell me, Detective West! I’m dying to know! Did you read ‘em their rights? Did you process their arrest in a public database according to the law? Did you give ‘em access to a lawyer? A judge? A call to family? Can they invoke the right of habeas corpus? Can they sue you for unlawful arrest if you messed up any part of that process?”

Len takes a step forward, leaning even more heavily than usual on his crutch. His eyes are boring into Joe’s, but his words are aimed at all of them.

“And what about the conditions once they’re captured, huh?” he continues. “They get their three hots and a cot, one hour of mandated physical activity, the right to company, conjugals, regular contact with friends and family? Or bail, huh, how about bail? Who decided they couldn’t be bailed out? That’s a judicial decision, and for some reason, I’m suspecting that none of you are sworn judges!”

Joe’s mouth moves, but he doesn’t say anything.

There’s nothing he can say.

“Especially you, Detective West,” Len continues, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re not a judge. But you are a cop. Sworn to uphold the law. Except you didn’t, did you?”

Joe still says nothing.

Barry can’t blame him.

It’s not just Joe, after all. Barry took the same oaths, made the same vows, promised himself he was doing the right thing.

And he wasn’t.

Len’s mouth twists. “No, you didn’t. You did the same thing every goddamn corrupt cop in the city did, thinking that what you think is right is more important than the laws.”

“I was trying my best to protect the people of Central City,” Joe says woodenly.

“Guess what, Detective? The ‘people’ you think you’re protecting include the people you’re abusing – yes, I said abuse!” Len says, holding up a hand to cut off Joe’s protest. “And I mean abuse! This is precedent, West; if you can decide to imprison someone without their rights, why can’t everyone else?”

“I saw them commit crimes!” Joe says. “I saw them, we all saw them! They’re not innocent! We know they’re not innocent!”

“It doesn’t matter if they’re innocent or not innocent! Even fucking serial killers that get caught red-handed get the chance to defend themselves in court!” Len exclaims, his voice starting to rise as his rage begins to escape even his icy self-control. “It doesn’t matter if they’re standing on a mountain of the corpses of their victims that you just saw them murder right before your eyes! You’re just a cop! You don’t get to decide ‘oh what the hell, they’re evil, I’ll just shoot them’, not if you have the option of taking them in peacefully – and if you do, you deserve to be fired and go to jail for manslaughter. But you certainly don’t get to decide that they don’t get to be arrested according to procedure. You don’t get to decide that they don’t get the right to have a trial, a lawyer, anything. You don’t get to lock them away and throw away the key!”

Joe bows his head.

“And you know that! You’re a cop; you can’t say you didn’t know. You knew they had rights, you knew what they were entitled to, and you just decided to do it anyway,” Len continues. “You decided to ignore every single damn thing that society says that all people, even criminals known to be guilty, deserve! You locked these people up without telling anyone like - like they were fucking stray dogs! You took their rights away from them! And for what? What possible reason could justify that?”

He takes a limping step forward.

“It can’t be just because you saw them committing a crime,” he says. “You’re a detective; if you started kidnapping everyone who ever committed a crime in front of you, this place would be overflowing. So no, it’s not that. That’s not what made you feel you could do this.”

Another step forward.

“Having powers, is that it? Is that what makes these people different? That must be it. But you don’t get to make that decision – and you know why? Because like every corrupt asshole in the book, you won’t apply it equally. You’ll say it’s okay to do all this to one person, but not another, and why? Because you think you’re able to make that judgment call. You. Just you. Because you’re above the law. And that’s what corruption is.”

Another.

“We’re all supposed to be equal under the law, Detective West. I’ll be the first to admit there’s a shit ton of inequality baked in there, with poor people and minorities getting the short end of the stick, but at least they’re the laws we’ve all agreed we’re following. At least we all know what to expect. Being kidnapped at superspeed and locked away without a trial? Ain’t no one expecting that.”

Len looks around the room.

“All of you,” he says. “So self-righteous, ain’t you? Thinking you’re doing the right thing.”

He shakes his head.

“Tell me,” he says, “think any of you’d object if I took Barry here and put him in a hole, never letting him talk to any of you ever again, leaving you wondering what happened to him? You would, wouldn’t you? Of course you would. He’s your friend. But why is he any different from all the rest of 'em? He’s got powers, too! You’ve seen him commit crimes, too! By your logic, you ought to treat him just the way you treat the rest of them! All of you - you’re no better than those monsters that keep girls in their basements!”

“But it is different! You don’t understand; these metas are dangerous!” Cisco blurts out, unable to suppress his dismay anymore. “We didn’t have a choice; we had to put them in the Accelerator! With their powers, there’s no way the cells at Iron Heights can hold them –”

“Iron Heights isn’t the only goddamn prison out there! If you hadn’t all been so obsessed with keeping Barry’s identity a secret – with keeping all of this a secret, putting the public and your fellow cops in greater danger because they went into the field not even knowing that they didn’t know what they were facing – you could have just told the CCPD about it!”

Len mimics holding a phone up to his ear. “Ring ring, hey, guess what, I’m reporting a crime, and hey I managed to stop it from happening but it turns out the perp appears to have unusual powers that probably won’t be contained by Iron Heights’ normal cells. Luckily, by chance, I happen to have a place that will hold them securely; do you want to use it while still granting them due process?”

He drops his hand back to his side, his face twisted in disgust. “Guess that was just too fucking hard for you guys, wasn’t it?”

“It wasn’t…you don’t…Wells said –” Caitlin says, her voice wavering.

“Oh, Wells, yeah, Wells,” Len says. “Let's talk about Wells. How convenient, of course, it’s all Wells’ idea. Sure it was. You know what, let’s even say it really was his idea, whole and entire, and none of you had anything to do with it. Who cares? Unless the guy is carting around an idiocy field that reduces the brain function of anyone within twenty feet of him, you’re all adults! Rational, thinking adults! How could you permit this?! How could you not try to stop it the second you realized what was going on?”

Barry’s breath is coming hard and his brain just won’t start up again, won’t start thinking again, refuses to function in a vain attempt to keep him from having to understand and acknowledge the truth.

To understand what exactly he did.

His mind just keeps repeating: he’s right. He’s right. He’s right.

Len’s right.

This – all of this – is wrong.

Horrifically, awfully, terribly wrong.

Unjust.

Illegal.

Wrong.

And they just – went with it.

All of them. Barry. Joe. Cisco. Caitlin. All of them.

They just agreed.

They just let it be.

They just allowed it to happen.

Each of them could have stepped up to the plate and said: no. This is wrong. And they didn’t.

They didn’t do anything.

They can’t blame that on Wells. That’s on them.

They just let themselves be swept away by the excitement and unreality of it – superpowers! Superheroes! Supervillains! And when each episode is over, then the bad guy goes away into the jail cell, never to be thought of again…

A modern oubliette, as Len says. Put them there and forget about them.

(In the beginning, Wells said they would rehabilitate them. No one even remembered to try.)

“Listen, okay, maybe we didn’t handle all this the best way,” Cisco starts, coming to Barry’s defense. Ever the loyal friend, even when Barry is the one in the wrong. “But you can’t just –”

“Shut up,” Len says. “You don’t get to talk. Not after what you’ve done.”

Cisco jerks back as if he’s been hit. “After what I’ve done –”

“Oh, yes, you,” Len says. “Friendly, smiling, cheerful Cisco Ramon, the jailor of STAR Labs. Or is someone else operating the controls? I thought that was your job.”

Now it’s Cisco’s turn to go mute, horror twisting his face as he opens and closes his mouth.

“Tell me, do you feed them?” Len asks him, his voice biting. “Do you clean their cells? Let them go on bathroom breaks? How do you do that – drug them, maybe? Does it make you feel powerful, treating them like rats in a cage?”

“No – no, I don’t – I’m not like that –”

“Funny,” Len says. “From what I hear, you’re exactly like that. Tell me, Ramon, do you know that it’s legally considered torture to deliberately play loud music at someone who can’t escape?”

Cisco blanches.

“Oh yeah, I know about that,” Len says. “Torturing a deaf man, how fun! But hey, he was mean to you at work a few times; I’m sure that balances it all out in the eyes of law, right? No jury’ll ever convict you, ‘cause being an asshole, causing some property damage, and getting into a fight with Barry, well, you know, that’s it, that’s three strikes right there –”

“You don’t –” Caitlin starts.

“Oh, don’t you start, doctor,” Len interrupts venomously. “Unless the version of the Hippocratic Oath you took comes with an exception that allows you to care for people in illegal solitary confinement without doing shit all to remedy their status. ‘Do no harm’, right? Do no good either, apparently.”

“You’re right,” Barry croaks. “You’re – you’re right.”

“You bet I’m right,” Len says. “You’re keeping people locked away – locked away in solitary confinement – do you even know what that does to a person? Even in regular prison, where they know they have access to a lawyer, where they know they still have rights, where they know that at least someone knows where they are and cares?”

He looks tired, suddenly. “It’s much worse when you know there’s no one there,” he says. “So much worse. When you’re all alone in a room, left alone to suffer, and you know no one is watching out for you ‘cause without the law you’ve got no rights but what human mercy can offer – and human mercy runs pretty damn short.”

Len’s imprisonment.

Locked alone in a room, guarded by Family thugs intent on torturing him to death, and no one knowing where he was.

Of course.

Barry - Barry should have thought. Barry should have realized.

They've treated the metas fairly well – excluding whatever it was Len was referencing with Cisco, which sounds seriously problematic – but that still doesn’t make it right.

“The laws might be soft in Central,” Len says, getting a hold of himself. “But by God I will see them applied. You’re going to transfer every single meta you have here to police custody –”

“We’ll do that,” Barry promises. “We will, I promise. I’m sorry, Len. I should’ve done better.” He swallows. “If you don’t want to be with me anymore, after this, I’d understand –”

Len starts laughing.

It’s not a good laugh. It’s sharp and jagged and very nearly hysterical.

“Barry,” he chokes out. “Oh, Barry. You don’t understand. The question isn’t are we staying together. The only question left here is how many years in prison you’re all going to be sentenced to.”

“Hold up,” Joe says, straightening. “You’re not seriously –”

“Oh, you bet I am,” Len says. “I’m going to bring hell down on your heads so hard you won’t even know what hit you.”

That gets them all talking all at once.

“You can’t! The investigation – Wells –”

“We have to help –”

“It’s important –”

“There are mitigating factors –”

“You have to give me a chance,” Barry begs. “Let me fix what I’ve done –”

“I don’t care!” Len bellows. “Right now, I couldn’t care less about the investigation. You’re all going to –”

His phone rings.

Len falls abruptly silent.

Everyone does, mostly from surprise at the sudden sound.

Barry’s more surprised than most, though. Len’s phone basically never rings. It’s a joke by now, one that Barry’s laughed over with Kara, with Iris, with everyone – Len always texts, never calls, and no one ever calls him.

Len digs his phone out of his pocket.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Joe says. “You can’t honestly be answering –”

“Shut up,” Len snaps, jabbing violently at his phone to accept the call. “What the hell do you want? Now’s not a good time, so –”

He falls silent, his face suddenly going stark white.

“Len?” Barry asks, stepping forward. He’s pretty sure they’re not dating anymore and he can’t blame Len for it in the slightest after what just happened, but he still can’t help but be concerned. He can’t help but reach out for him, to try to help him with whatever is causing that expression.

“Boss? What’s going on?” Kara asks, stepping forward herself, sliding neatly around him to stand between him and Barry, her back to Barry as she protects Len –

Protects Len from Barry.

And she's right.

Because this is all Barry’s fault, in the end. If he’d told Len the truth at the beginning, then maybe he wouldn’t have had this reaction – maybe then Len would have understood how much Wells had misled them all, how he’d played on their enthusiasm and naïveté to brush over their concerns, how he’d led them all to think that this was all okay – maybe –

But Barry hadn’t told him.

Now his only hope is that Len will decide to give them just enough mercy to try to prove themselves. To prove that they do mean well, that they aren’t evil, that they aren’t corrupt.

Because that’s where all this came from, isn’t it?

Central City’s corruption, seeping through its pores, affecting them all.

Joe, an officer of the law who just wanted to do the right thing, who wanted to help people, but who thought nothing of locking the ‘bad guys’ away to keep them from hurting anyone – who thought nothing of the rights those ‘bad guys’ themselves had, because it’d never been all that important to his work before.

Caitlin, a doctor, sworn to help people, forgetting that she had to do more than just care for their wounds.

Cisco, so focused on the technical aspects of how STAR Labs’ prison worked that he forgot about the value of the humans lives they kept within its walls. The nerd who treated life like a comic book, and didn’t remember that the story went on past the closing of the last page – who thought that things were ‘awesome’ without considering their moral value.

And Barry.

Barry, who, of all people, should have known better.

Barry, who struggled against injustice when it was his father suffering under it. Barry, who took the hard line against Dibny because he thought justice mattered. Barry, who just wanted to help.

And look what he’s done with it.

“Boss,” Kara says again, more urgently, when Len doesn’t answer her even after he’s ended the call. “Boss, tell me what’s wrong. What happened?”

“Mick,” Len croaks.

Barry straightens at that. “What happened?” he demands. “Is he okay?”

After all, Barry’s the one who was dating Len. He knows exactly what Mick means to Len.

Mick’s Len’s best friend, his partner in crime, his anchor – his version of Iris. Mick’s the one Len lied to, the way Barry lied to Iris; Mick’s the one who Len wants so desperately to apologize to, the way Barry wanted to apologize to Iris.

Except Barry got his chance to do that, and despite his fears, Iris forgave him; he knows that Len would sell his soul for the chance to have the same.

He knows that Len is not nearly as okay as he pretend to be. He knows that Len hasn’t really gotten over everything that happened to him: the betrayal, the torture, the loss of the life he built for twenty years, and all of that wrapped up in his grief and rage over what happened to Mick.

He knows that Len is barely holding it together, with nothing but strength of will and a desperate need for atonement he’s sublimated into an unending drive for vengeance.

If Mick dies, Len will shatter into a million pieces.

Barry doesn’t want that to happen.

Even after all of this, he still – he still –

He’s pretty sure he loves Len.

Shit.

What terrible timing for that little revelation, given that even in the highly unlikely event that Len decides not to throw them all into prison for the rest of their lives, he’s still definitely not going to forgive Barry for, well, any of this.

And Barry deserves it, too. He deserves never to be forgiven.

He’s going to be the reason all his friends go to jail.

(He should have told Iris from the very beginning. She would never have agreed to tolerate any of this.)

“Boss!” Kara is saying urgently, pulling the phone out of his unmoving hands, waving her hands before his unmoving eyes. “Boss, talk to me! What happened to Mick? Tell me what happened!”

“Len,” Barry says quietly, stepping forward to stand by Kara’s side. He knows she doesn’t want him there – her glare is very nearly hot enough to burn, just like Len’s always joking it is – but he thinks he might be able to get through to Len despite the shock of whatever news he just got. Len knows that Barry understands his relationship with Mick. “Len, tell me you hear me.”

Len’s eyes move and land on Barry.

“Tell us what happened,” Barry instructs.

“It’s – Mick,” Len croaks.

“What about Mick?” Kara asks again. “What about Mick, boss?”

Len swallows as if his throat has suddenly gone dry, then swallows again when his voice fails him. His eyes are wide and his hands are shaking and he looks – shattered, somehow.

“It’s Mick,” he says again. And then – “He woke up.”

#coldflash #leonard snart #barry allen #joe west #cisco ramon #Caitlin snow #kara danvers #my fic #an internal affair

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onisionhurtspeople · 6 years ago

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The Spiral of Narcissistic Abuse: Onision Edition

I originally wrote this post in April 2017, but in the year and a half since it’s been published, there have been literally dozens of new victims targeted by Greg (Onision) and his wife Lainey (Laineybot) that I felt were severe enough to warrant inclusion; and so here I am to re-write this post to include this new information.

1. “Love Bombing”: Display of excessive attention and professions of deep love. “Soul mate.”

Love bombing is the practice of overwhelming a person in a new relationship with signs of adoration and attraction in the form of gifts, compliments, meaningful gestures, discussions revolving around long-term future plans (marriage, children, vacations, etc), and professions of true love. The difference between love bombing and genuine love is that real love is earned over time through intimacy, trust, and consistency, whereas love bombing creates artificial feelings of intimacy that have not yet been earned.

Greg routinely engages in love-bombing when it comes to either a) trying to lure in new victims, or b) making attempts to reel in previous victims (such as exes), or current victims who are becoming disillusioned with him and beginning to pull away. In 2015, after Greg had convinced his wife Lainey to “explore her bisexuality” by getting a girlfriend, she had settled on an 18-year-old YouTube personality and makeup guru named Billie, and flew her down to their house for a visit. What Greg neglected to tell Lainey was that he had ulterior motives for pushing her to get a girlfriend, and this was because he wanted to convince Lainey and whoever her girlfriend was to enter a three-way, polyamorous triad with him. While Billie was there, in an attempt to draw her in, Greg showered her with gifts, compliments, and an excessive amount of attention and admiration; according to him, he paid her $1800 a month to manage his social media accounts, spent thousands of dollars buying her gifts of makeup and clothing, and his videos were full of glowing compliments towards Billie.

He tweeted this at Billie after she managed to “fix” a broken camera lens by throwing it on the ground. He screams at his own children just for losing at Mario Kart, could you imagine Onision having this reaction to anybody else treating his expensive equipment that way?

Every time he and Lainey broke up with Billie (usually because she refused to go along with their bizarrely strict and controlling expectations for her behavioral conduct, such as having to ask their permission before smoking weed - and yes, you read that correctly; the problem was not that she was smoking weed because it was illegal (as Greg and Lainey had originally claimed), the problem was that she didn’t ask their permission before doing it), Greg would begin to reel Lainey back in by trying to love bomb her again. This comment was made just two days after he’d cheated on Lainey with Billie, while she was pregnant with their second child:

…and every time they get back together, he begins love bombing Billie again, and ignoring Lainey. He is careful not to do this overtly on Twitter or Instagram like he does with Lainey, but during this time, he expends much more effort into communicating with Billie over Twitter and in videos than he does with Lainey. He is also very clearly more physically affectionate towards Billie in videos where the three of them appear together than he is with his own wife.

(And maybe this is just my unprofessional opinion, but the manner in which he compliments Lainey rings much more hollow and inauthentic to me than the compliments he used to give to Billie. It comes off as very rote and robotic, not genuine or sincere.)

2. Over-protection and isolation in the name of love. “We only need each other.”

One of the most common tactics that abusers use to control their victims is by isolating them from friends and family. They do this so that it’s harder for them to escape or see the truth of what’s happening to them. This behavior is manifested in ways such as convincing the victim to stay at home and not have a job, by controlling all of the money that flows through the household (including the victim’s money, if they DO have a job), and by slowly convincing the victim to stop talking to their friends and family members, because the narcissist “doesn’t think they’re good for [them]”. Without a sense of perspective or anybody from whom to gain a third-party point of view, it’s extremely difficult for the victim to objectively analyze the severity of the situation.

Throughout the history of his relationships, Greg follows this pattern with all of his partners to the tee. He makes repeated attempts to convince Billie to stop flying home to spend time with her friends and family members, who she is extremely close with.

Unbelievably, he attempts to manipulate her by bragging about how he’d already managed to successfully convince Lainey to not visit her own family more than once a year. In a livestream, Lainey once admitted that earlier this month (October 2018) was the first time she’s attended a family funeral in over five years, because Greg wouldn’t give her permission to go to any of the other ones. He also frequently attacks Lainey’s family on social media, as well as diminishing them in Lainey’s eyes by making his disapproval of them quite clear:

This is what he said about Lainey’s sister:

He especially does this to Lainey’s father, who saw through Greg from the very beginning, and desperately tried to stop his 17-year-old daughter from marrying him:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8sAjnkASwOo

He also did this with Skye while they were still married, restricting her from seeing anybody but members of his own family, and members of her family that he approved of (which was basically just her younger sister, a 15-year-old girl who Greg admitted to fantasizing about having sex with, including (more than once) accidentally moaning her name while being intimate with Skye). A quote from his website at the time:

January 24th, 2007

Alright, so it has been a few days since Skye and I hung out with another couple… judging from the fact that these people were the only ones we knew that had a lifestyle that wasn’t drugged out, beered out (also known as drugged out), smoked out, ethically lacking, rude etc. and we can’t even enjoy ourselves around them as much as we do each other… I just really don’t see myself and Skye spending time with anyone in the future other than family…

It seems that everyone who isn’t blood related has something extremely wrong with them… it may not be apparent at first, like a used car, but when you get on the road with them, and get to know them, the clanks and pings begin to show, maybe not after the first few miles, but definitely after the second or third ride.

(Source)

This isolation of Skye got so bad that eventually, two of their friends actually tried to convince her to leave Greg:

January 27th, 2007

I was going to post something extremely long about how upset I am with two people I know, within my personal life - who are continuously trying to break my wife and I apart psychically and vocally… but I’m not going to as I believe it can only cause a greater level of drama, which is exactly what they feed on.

In fact, they probably know I’m talking about them right now, and are dialing my number just to tell me/others how wrong I am for my wife, and somehow by saying I love her every hour of the day, feeding her full of yummy food, trying to make her happy emotionally/other ways, putting a roof over her head, that in result of that I’m a bad husband.

(Source)

A former classmate of Greg, who had gone to high school with both he and Skye, also gave an interview with someguy827, in which he detailed his observations of Greg slowly but surely isolating Skye from all of her friends and family members:

You can read the interview here. (Source)

And read the comment that he made on lolcow here. (Source)

3. Power gained by social isolation and artificially inflated self-esteem. “I feel like a better person with I am with them.”

Greg has claimed this about every single one of his exes. I can’t track down photographic examples of him claiming this about all of them��never mind, I managed to find examples of him saying this to at least three different women. Here’s an example of when he said it to ex-girlfriend Adrienne:

Keep in mind that they had been dating for a grand total of two weeks when he made the claim to her that she had helped him grow into a better person in the short amount of time they’d been together.

He made the same claim about a high school girlfriend, Tanya, whom - again - he had known for only a couple of weeks; and they were not even officially dating when he said this to her:

Here is another example of him saying this about his first wife, Skye - again, only weeks into their relationship. The journal entry this screenshot was lifted from is much longer and I was having trouble pasting it into the body of this text in a way that was readable, so here’s a very short, cropped version of what he said. You can find the source for this quote here. (Source)

At the end of his relationship with Adrienne - while they were in the process of breaking up - he called her repeatedly while she was at work, leaving her over a dozen voicemails in less than a day. During this time, Adrienne managed to get in touch with Shiloh, another of Greg’s exes, to compare notes about the similarities in their relationship. When Shiloh listened to the voicemails that Greg had sent to Adrienne, she posted this comment on Facebook:

He had been telling the two women, only hours apart from each other, about how special and meaningful they were to him. The saddest thing about this is that at the same time, he was also calling Skye; and this exchange between himself, Shiloh, and Adrienne occurred only days before he started talking to Lainey.

4. Creation of a feeling of dependency; induction of fear of the loss of relationship.

One of the ways that Greg likes to induce feelings of psychological dependence on him is through a tactic called “manipulation break-ups”. The phenomenon is explained here by dwayners13:

One of the most common tactics used by manipulative & emotionally abusive individuals is the ‘manipulation breakup’. This is simply when a person repeatedly breaks up with their partner, not because they truly want to end their relationship, but rather to gain power & control over their partner & the relationship in general. There are a variety of issues & events that can cause a manipulation breakup (far too many to list here), but it can range from their partner doing something they don’t like/approve of to the emotionally abusive person being confronted on their abusive/manipulative behavior (by their partner &/or their partner’s family/friends). [...] Instead of taking the time to discuss or even arguing about the issue in an attempt to resolve it, the person will just break up with them, knowing that their partner doesn’t want to break up. They will then refuse to speak with them about the issue (& the relationship in general), essentially shunning or ignoring their attempts. This can include ignoring phone calls, text messages, VMs etc.., If the couple live together, they will simply refuse to speak with their partner (aka the silent treatment). Their intention is to make it seem like the relationship is over, so that the person will practically beg & plead with their partner & be willing to agree to anything in order to get back together.

(Source)

Greg and Lainey both admitted to him doing this multiple times throughout their relationship; and still, to this day, they admit that he attempts to break up with her every single time they argue, even though they’re married and have been for over seven years. It is extremely abnormal for a 34-year-old father of two who has been married for seven years to threaten to “break up” with his wife every time they get into an argument. These attempts at manipulation on Greg’s part terrify Lainey so much that she readily complies with whatever he wants in order to convince him not to leave her. This pattern could not be more apparent than how this manipulation tactic played out in their relationship with Billie.

During the time when Greg and Lainey were in a polyamorous relationship with Billie, Lainey expressed repeated discomfort about Greg and Billie spending so much time together while she was excluded by having to spend so much time cooking, cleaning, looking after their their son (she was pregnant with their daughter at the time), and managing their household (which we now know, thanks to Maya, that Greg does not help out with at all, meaning that Lainey spent the vast majority of her day doing these things while Greg and Billie were in another room playing games, making videos, and hanging out). She felt that Billie was only there for Greg, and was not comfortable with them being sexually intimate together, even when it was all three of them together. After a while of this - despite Lainey’s continued discomfort, disapproval, and lack of consent (which is vital for any healthy, functioning polyamorous triad) - Greg told Lainey that there would be more more boundaries, no more jealousy, and that he and Billie were going to do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted; and that if Lainey didn’t like it, then he was going to divorce her.

Naturally, terrified of losing her husband, her family, her home, her source of income, and the only lifestyle that she’d ever known - with a three-year-old in tow, and pregnant with their second child - Lainey felt forced to remain in the three-way relationship that she didn’t even want to begin with.

A quote from his video, “Onision’s Break Up Story”:

“I told my wife that there would be no more rules in the relationship. That there would be no more boundaries, no more jealousy, and that I would do what I want.”

(Source)

After this quote, Greg goes on to explain that he reassured his wife that he had no intention of leaving her; however, how could Lainey believe this, when just a few months before he had attempted to leave her for Billie, which only didn’t end up happening because Billie told him that she didn’t feel right about it? When he had threatened to leave her so many times before over much smaller and less significant things? He goes on to say this:

“Regardless, it is important to note that Billie did tell me that she thought Lainey might be upset if she and I slept together, but every time she indicated she was worried, I would remind her of the conversation I had with Lainey where I repeatedly told her there would be no more boundaries, we would all have balanced relationships, and that there would be no jealousy.”

This is an ultimatum. The reason why Lainey went to Billie to ask her not to sleep with Greg is because she already knew that he would shut her down if she tried. Ask yourself this question: for what reason would a woman feel more comfortable asking other women not to sleep with her husband, instead of just going straight to the source and simply asking her husband not to sleep with other women instead? The answer is that it’s because she already knew that he would say no and try to divorce her if she kept bringing it up. It is not unreasonable for Lainey to believe Greg capable of doing this, considering that he has admitted in the past to leaving one woman for another (when he left Skye for Shiloh in 2011):

Greg doesn’t just do this to Lainey, however; he has done this, to my knowledge, with every other woman he’s ever dated. The following is a screenshot of a portion of the letter written by Adrienne - the 26-year-old that Greg dated for three weeks just before he met Lainey - describing how Greg attempted to manipulate her through making her fear the loss of the relationship:

Later on in the same letter:

The entirety of the letter written by Adrienne can be read here. If you’re interested in understanding how Greg’s mind works, I highly recommend reading it - it is extremely insightful, analytical, and well-written.

5. Restrictive control of resources and activities enforced by induction of guilt, or fear of anger.

It’s no secret that Greg attempts to restrict the activities that his girlfriends are allowed to participate in. This ranges from the aforementioned control over how often they’re allowed to visit their families, to whether or not they’re allowed to have a job (a tactic reported by several of his exes and by Greg himself), to how often they’re allowed to go out with their friends, and even to what they are and are not allowed to eat.

In the following screenshot, a blog post by Shiloh months after they’d broken up, she details how he not only manipulated her into cutting off contact with her friends and family back home, but also convinced her to put her music career on hold so that they could be together all the time:

(You can read the full post here.)

He also talked Skye into quitting her job once he began making enough money off YouTube, with the reasoning that couples should be spending at least 50% of their time together. (I’m having trouble finding the screenshot for this, but it’s out there somewhere - I’ve seen it before.) Here is a similar screenshot, however:

He would also become extremely angry with Adrienne when she wanted to go out with her friends…

...and tried to manipulate her into quitting her job, moving in with him, and depending entirely on him as her source of income, all within three weeks of meeting her.

6. Gaslighting causes victim to doubt what they see or hear. Inability to trust own thoughts and reasoning.

When Lainey first broke up with Greg and was considering divorce after he cheated on her with Billie, she admitted that she had never even wanted a girlfriend to begin with, and that it had been Greg who was pressuring her into it…

…but later, when Lainey recounted her side of the story in a response video to the one that Billie released, she adamantly maintained that it was she who had wanted to experiment with her bisexuality - evidence that Greg had been gaslighting her into believing that he was not at fault, yet again, and that it was Lainey who had desired to keep bringing back Billie over and over again. The tweet posted in first part of this screenshot was taken only six months after the tweet in the second part:

In addition - despite having told Lainey that it was his decision to sleep with Billie, and despite having literally admitted in a video that he published on YouTube to Billie having repeatedly brought up her discomfort with going behind Lainey’s back in order to be intimate with Greg - he still managed to convince Lainey to doubt her own perceptions enough to the point where she now, to this day - over two years later - still considers Billie to be the homewrecker, and that it was Billie who cheated on her with Greg, not Greg who cheated on her with Billie. That is how manipulative he is.

During one of the periods in time when Greg and Lainey had broken up with Billie yet again, Lainey began talking to a new girl named Hailey (known online as Luxymoo). At first, Hailey believed that her relationship with Lainey would be exclusive; but after Greg informed her that the relationship would actually be an open polyamorous one, she realized that she was uncomfortable with the arrangement and decided to pull out. Despite the fact that she had every right to choose not to go through with it, Greg then attempted to gaslight her and invalidate her feelings:

After that I started doing research on what it meant to be in a three way relationship, I came to the conclusion that it wasn’t for me. Which killed me, because all I wanted to do was be with Lainey. I wanted to try for them, but at the end of the day, I had to consider my personal feelings on the matter. I knew I couldn’t be what they wanted, because I wanted Lainey.

I told Lainey as soon as I came to that conclusion. I wanted to be honest. I didn’t want to drag it out. Lainey didn’t respond to me.. but Greg did. He said that if he were in my position, he would do whatever it takes to be with Lainey. He said that I didn’t really care about Lainey, that all I was looking for was friendship. He said that he thought my mind was broken. He said he thought I may be sexually dormant. He then would say that he thinks i’m a good person and that i’m the safer alternative. He called me a good distraction.

He wanted me to still come up. But that was a fleeting thought. He said friendship would be hard, and that I was doing everything I could to avoid a relationship with Lainey. Then he pitched the idea of me being with Lainey exclusively, while he’s with Lainey exclusively. Like we wouldn’t be doing sexual things together. I still declined because 1. he had spent so much time invalidating MY feelings on the matter, attacking my personality, pressuring me, etc. and 2. I also knew that that wasn’t what they wanted, and I told him that we would still hit that road block of me wanting exclusiveness. He had said in a previous conversation that it was like him and Lainey were on an island and I had a boat, but I wouldn’t throw them a life line because I wasn’t the right boat.

(The full conversation and screenshot can be seen here.)

He also tried to use this tactic on Maya - a girl who dated Lainey very briefly in late 2017 - in an attempt to preemptively gaslight her and discredit her, should she choose to come forward with her story about what he did to her:

Which he did, in fact, try to do later on, by attempting to accuse Maya of being a “homewrecker” for “wiggling while she was sitting on his lap” (despite not mentioning that he was the one who had placed her there, which she did not consent to, and only went along with because she felt so uncomfortable). The posts detailing her full account can be found here and here.

7. Increased emotional and psychological dependence of victim on abuser.

Greg has already succeeded in doing this with Lainey and many other girlfriends in the past, and has attempted to do this to several more. When married to Skye, Greg insisted that she not have a job outside of the home because he believes that a couple should spend most of their time together (despite later claiming that spouses who do not have a job outside the home, or at least have children, are useless). After meeting Shiloh, despite the fact that she was a celebrity in Canada at the time they met, he forced her to quit her singing career and move in with him to work for and with him full-time; to this day, over seven years later, her singing career still has not recovered. Upon breaking up with Shiloh, he dated a woman named Adrienne, who he attempted to manipulate into moving in with him within three weeks of the start of their relationship - and she almost did. And likewise, when he began dating Lainey, within a month of meeting her, he had proposed to her, rented a house in the state where she lived so that she could finish high school, and then married and impregnated her within the year, so that he could groom her and keep tabs on her until she was old enough to marry.

Lainey does not have a job, and is completely financially and psychologically dependent upon Greg for not just survival, but her very sense of identity and self-worth as a person. In fact, she is so dependent on Greg as a source of ego regulation that I wrote an entire post breaking down and analyzing my impression of Lainey’s personality matrix because I was so baffled by the extent of her psychological dependency on him. You can read it here, if you’re curious (and have a lot of spare time).

8. Punishment through anger, verbal abuse, forced isolation, character assassination, etc.

When angry with ex-girlfriend Shiloh, he pushed her into a door frame, causing her to miscarry (although some people do not believe that she was pregnant, since she and Greg had once faked a pregnancy and stillbirth):

He also forced her to shave her head bald, calling her a “whore”, “his property”, and “a good bitch”:

When Billie lied to him about smoking weed, he attempted to punish her by forcing her to dye her eyebrows green, shave off her hair (the third time he has attempted to, or succeeded in, manipulating a girlfriend to shave her hair off), get an ugly tan, be chained to his basement wall for a week wearing a sign saying “I’m sorry for lying Lainey” around her neck, and tattoo “I’m a liar” in the small of her back:

When he breaks up with exes, he also slanders and demeans their character on social media. He even does this with friends, other YouTubers, and sometimes just with people - usually women - that he doesn’t like. Including myself, by the way:

Proud moment. :’)

He made a video criticizing his ex (Adrienne) for the number of sexual partners she’s had, as well as implying that her vaginal hygiene was poor, and even made a series of videos in which he went and got himself tested for various STDs in order to imply that she was so promiscuous that she could have given him one (a video which later got deleted off YouTube when he realized how many downvotes it was getting); however, you can see her reference the video in her letter here:

When he and Skye divorced, he slandered her by calling her a thief and a liar, and continued to milk sympathy from his fans by implying that he was unfairly being forced to pay alimony, even though he agreed to the amount in the settlement, and she was rightly owed that money for her part in producing his early Onision videos.

When he broke up with Billie, he said and did several things to demean her character, including calling her a drug addict, imply that she’s “less than” for being a high school dropout who lives with her parents still, and also revealed to his entire fan base that she has an eating disorder, accused her family of being drugs addicts, and that she had been sexually assaulted and had an abortion, a secret which she had previously revealed to only a handful of close friends and family:

After Blaire White called him out for his actions, he made a video calling her so many different vile names, with such vitriolic hatred in his voice, that I actually have trouble watching it all the way through. You can really see his narcissistic rage coming out in this video.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lEVHT6No5Xc

He has exhibited this cycle over and over again with YouTuber Cyr, who he has been friends with off and on for years:

Most recently - meaning since I first wrote this post (about a year and a half ago) - he has continued in this pattern of slandering ex-girlfriends and ex-friends a further three or four times at least; and so this is the part of this sub-heading that will provide new information that was not included in my old post.

After Jaclyn Glenn began dating Richie of SocialRepose, Greg flew off the handle, making a series of insulting comments about Jaclyn’s physical appearance on Twitter and YouTube, including remarking that tall women are gross, and that had she been dating him, he never would have allowed her to get breast implants, because they’re disgusting (and she’s disgusting for having them):

Since she has broken up with Richie, Greg has now reverted to his attempts at love-bombing Jaclyn (and her friend Jessie Paege) on Twitter, hoping to reignite their friendship (and the possibility of bringing her into a new trinity with Lainey, or at least hoping that she’ll be able to give a boost to his YouTube career).

A few months ago, a close friend of both Greg and Lainey - model, actress, and member of the BDSM community Madison DeCambra - made a video with Greg about the DDlg (Daddy Dom/little girl) kink, which was received very poorly by the DDlg community. Feeling responsible for having hurt and contributed to the misrepresentation of the community that she loves so much, Madison posted a video on YouTube apologizing for any pain that her involvement in Greg’s video may have caused. Greg reacted to this by terminating their six-year-long friendship, as well as - predictably - going on a tirade of character assassinations against her on Twitter, including bringing her two-year-old daughter into it despite having previously accused anyone willing to bring a person’s children up during an argument of being trash.

These were the texts he sent to Madison, which he then posted publicly on Twitter in order to discard and defame her:

(Source)

Here is a screenshot of Madison arguing with TomatoBisquette (another former friend of Greg’s whom he has discarded, in his case for being friendly towards MrRepzion, a YouTuber who Greg hates for having called him out in the past), who had tried to make light of how upset she was when Greg posted on Twitter telling her that he was disgusted by her and never considered her a friend:

He also used the opportunity to take another pot-shot at Beck - a former fan of Greg and Lainey before she, too, was ousted from their lives - for defending Madi:

However, the worst part of this interaction is that he chose to bring Madison’s two-year-old daughter into the argument, just because he was angry with her mother. Here was Madison’s (understandably angry and hurt) response:

A recent addition to the roster of the Avaroe’s stable of ex-friends, Maya - a 19-year-old bartender who briefly dated Lainey, and who visited them for about a week over the Christmas holidays in 2017 - described Greg’s behavior towards her as being bizarrely, uncomfortably interested in probing her about her past. She felt that he was pressing her for information to use against her in the future, and described the odd, inappropriate expression of pleasure that would come across his face while he was listening to a person describe some misfortune that had befallen them:

It would take me ages to compile a list of all of the exes, friends, YouTubers, and other randoms that he’s demeaned on social media or in his videos, so instead I’m just going to provide a (probably incomplete, and still-growing) list of people whose characters he has assassinated on Twitter or YouTube:

Exes: Skye, Shiloh, Adrienne, Billie

Friends: Cyr, Andy Biersack (and his father), TomatoBisquette, Maya, Madison DeCambra, Beck, Jaclyn Glenn

YouTubers: Social Repose, Blaire White, Eugenia Cooney, Dan Howell, Keemstar, LeafyIsHere

Other: Ayallah (best friend of Billie, ex-girlfriend of Social Repose), Lainey’s family (father and sister), his own father, Luxymoo (Hailey)

9. Scouting new supply.

Before he had even divorced Skye, he moved on to Shiloh. When Shiloh left him and went back to Canada, he met Adrienne. When he broke up with Adrienne and she refused to take him back, he was texting Shiloh and Skye within 24 hours. When Skye, Shiloh, and Adrienne all refused to take him back, he then moved on to Lainey, who he had met and proposed marriage to within just a few short weeks of meeting. When he got bored of the ultimate power that he exerted over Lainey, he used her as queerbait to pull in Billie. When he and Lainey broke up with Billie - still bored with Lainey - he began auditioning new girls for a spot in his harem (Hailey/Luxymoo, Eryn, Maya, Sam, Beck). Here is a timeline of Greg’s known romantic relationships over the past fifteen years:

If Greg’s high school classmate is to be believed, however, then there are many, many women that Greg has been with that did not make this list.

And finally, here’s a funny, tongue-in-cheek chart chronicling the pattern of what happens when Greg and Lainey bring a new girl into the house:

Lainey doesn’t know it yet, but this entire cycle is going to begin repeating itself sooner or later. It’s just a matter of time. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were lowkey auditioning girls as I write this.

10. Acting as though nothing happened.

Need I say more?

#onision #laineybot #narcissism #npd #abuse #anti onision #anti o

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your-iron-lung · 5 years ago

Text

The Unsolved Chapter

aka, the crossover absolutely no one asked for; also available to read on AO3

Story Synopsis: While investigating what remains of the infamous Léry’s Memorial Institute for their popular channel, two Youtube celebrity ghost hunters go missing overnight, vanishing in a freak occurrence that has decided to lay claim to their souls.

While the world they were abruptly taken from grieves their absences and tries to figure out what befell the beloved comical duo, Ryan and Shane struggle to make sense of the new, terrible and violent reality they've woken up in. Drawn to a campfire that never seems to burn out, they meet others who have been condemned to the same, eternal fate and are forcibly taught how to survive in an attempt to keep their collective hope and souls alive.

Part 1 of 5

Chapter Word Count: 6031

Pairings: None; just a genfic

Genre: Survival Horror/Supernatural/Angst-y

Next Chapter: Part Two

Notes: uhh yep, here it is, a buzzfeed unsolved/dead by daylight crossover fic bc once i started to think about it, i couldnt stop. there will be temporary character death, lil bits of gore, and a fair amount of blood and violence in the story, just not in this installment. careful if you click the embedded link, as it might be loud

---------

‘Sometimes human places, create inhuman monsters.’ Stephen King, The Shining

Léry’s Memorial Institute was probably the filthiest building Shane had ever stepped foot in, which, when you took into account just how many foul, decrepit locations he’d been to in the past, was really saying something. The building itself was beautiful in its own haunting way, as most older buildings often were, but Léry’s took the definition of ruined to a new extreme he’d yet to see before now. It was an architectural thing of beauty to be sure, but the grit and grime that covered the entirety of the stonework did manage to dampen his enthusiasm for exploring the dilapidated structure.

And he had been excited for it, originally; a chance to fly back to Illinois to shoot the season finale of Unsolved on his home turf had been generally appealing, even if he hadn’t heard of Michaelstown or Léry’s before. But then they’d all gotten their first look at the Institute, looming horribly tall over the long horizon of pines as they drove up to it from the bumpy dirt road, and he felt all his excitement leave his body in an instant, evaporating like a cold drop of water on hot asphalt.

The silhouette had been menacing and boxy, regal in an old fashioned way that modern constructions had abandoned in favor of more modern designs. It was, perhaps, one of the most imposing feats of architecture he’d ever laid eyes on; it certainly ranked up there with Waverly in his mind, and perhaps that was why he felt so inexplicably nervous as he’d looked at it. Rather than dwell on it, he compartmentalized his anxiety away in his brain and turned to make a comment about how spooky the hospital was to Ryan, but whatever effects looking at the building had had on him appeared to have hit his co-host three times as hard; Ryan’s brain already looked like it was melting, an expression of mute terror written plainly across his face.

Shane couldn’t fault him for that, considering his own momentary scare, and was actually grateful for his silence. If Ryan had pressed him for a comment on whether or not he thought Léry’s was haunted in that moment, then Shane might’ve reluctantly admitted that, in the event that ghosts were real, he wouldn’t be surprised to find a few here, but Ryan had been too horror-stricken to ask. In all actuality, no one on the team had been up for much conversation after that first initial glimpse, an uneasy vibe settling into all of them as they parked. They had all taken a moment to appreciate how terribly ominous it looked against the backdrop of a sunset red sky before TJ ushered them into their usual business routine, unpacking their equipment and getting their bodycams set up.

“Man, I feel like Jack Torrance walking into the Overlook here. This building feels downright predatory, man,” Ryan said, voice already shaking with nervousness.

Evening was falling fast upon them as they shuffled around in the entrance hall, carefully avoiding the large panes of broken glass and other debris that littered the floor. The layer of dust on the ground was so thick, distinct footprints could be seen as clear as though they’d been walking through snow, their tracks leading around in circles as they got their first look at the interior.

Shane hummed a noncommittal response as he shined his camera light around, disgusted by the amount of dust on the floor and in the air; if he were an asthmatic, he’d probably have run through several inhalers just from walking in.

“So tell me what I’m looking at here, Ryan; what’s the history behind this magnificent pile of rubble?” Shane asked as he nudged a thick piece of wood with the toe of his boot.

They would cover most of the history of Léry’s Memorial Institute in the voice over, but that wouldn’t be done until they got back to California and Ryan had yet to tell him much about the place. Keeping Shane in the dark about the past of some the places they went to was a good way to get genuine reactions out of him, but he felt that if they didn’t start bantering soon then Ryan would lose whatever was left of his poor, impressionable mind.

“I feel really weird,” Ryan said instead of answering, glancing around the area with wide, uncertain eyes. “There’s like, some kind of an energy in the air in here; do you feel it?”

“No,” Shane replied calmly, though that wasn’t entirely true. He could feel something akin to static in the air around them, but he didn’t register that as a supernatural phenomenon. The air felt charged in a way that reminded him more of an impending thunderstorm getting ready to unburden itself than it did of something unearthly. “It is a little chilly, though; probably should’ve worn more layers.”

“Good Christ, I hate it here already.” Ryan shuddered and rubbed at one of his arms as he turned to look down the dark hallway that lead further in. “Right, so. Léry’s. I couldn’t find any information on who the original owners were, or who built it, but I did find out that the original building was built sometime in the 1800’s.”

“This isn’t the original?”

Ryan shook his head and reluctantly took the lead in guiding them down the long, narrow hallway, adjusting the straps of his bodycam rig subconsciously as he went.

“Well, yes and no,” he said, stopping every few steps to shine his light and camera into any rooms they happened to pass. “The original building was just a really big mansion the owners lived in before they donated their land to the government; all this hospital space was added onto it during the Korean War to help rehab returning vets.”

“This is one hell of a remodeling job; the Property Brothers would be proud with how many square feet they managed to pump into this thing,” Shane remarked, grinning a little when Ryan let out a slight laugh. “So, army hospital?”

“Yep, up until the CIA took possession of it in the 60’s, and that’s where all my research brought me to dead ends. I couldn’t find what they wanted it for or what they did with it after they got it, but boy, the conspiracy theories run wild with this one.” He turned to flash Shane a conspiratory grin.

“Are you gonna use the voice on me?” Shane asked with a roll of his eyes. “Don’t lay it on too thick now; save some for the voice over.”

“Some say that the CIA turned Léry’s into a black site in order to perfect ‘information gathering’ techniques they’d wanted to put into practice during the war,” Ryan began, easily slipping into the professional tone of voice he used for narrations. The familiarity with which he spoke seemed to restore some of his confidence as they continued down the hall, as he no longer seemed to shrink away from the darkness surrounding them. “They reportedly hired a large number of staff to run the medical facility, but no records of anyone working here exist- at least to the public-, though there are rumors of one particular doctor who was well known for his sadistic use of electro-convulsive shock ‘treatments’.”

“Torture, you mean,” Shane said, shining his light into a room of indeterminate purpose. Ahead of him, Ryan nodded in affirmation. “Great, a secret torture hospital. I’m sure you’ll get a lot of angry, resentful ghosts to talk to here.”

Ignoring his comment, Ryan continued his monologue, clearly having spent time rehearsing it. “Supposedly. As the rumors go, they began implementing experimental interrogation methods on American citizens first before moving on to actual spies, and oh- oh my god, that’s a fucking big rat,” Ryan sputtered, his Unsolved voice breaking as he skipped back down the hall and almost knocked into Shane, who barely managed to sidestep his panicked retreat.

He couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as he put an arm to Ryan’s shoulder to steady him before stepping ahead of him, shining his camera light into what looked to be a large reception area. It was wide and spacious, full of dark corners with plenty of dust and run down furniture covered in graffiti. The rat Ryan had stumbled upon was underneath one of the waiting room benches, turned over on its side and very clearly dead, though it was exceptionally large.

They stared at it together contemplatively for a moment before Shane said, “I gotta tell you, Ry, that I am not at all thrilled about spending the night here. I think I might ask my mom to call your mom to tell you I can’t come to your little sleepover.”

From behind, they could hear Mark laugh before stepping into the room, aiming the lens of his camera at the rat for a dramatic close-up they could potentially use to promote the episode.

“That’s disgusting, don’t film that,” Devon said, clicking her tongue in disapproval as she placed her hand in front of the camera lens until Mark lowered it off his shoulder. “This place is foul; I can’t say I envy you boys for staying here one bit.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Ryan muttered. “Hell, I might cancel the sleepover myself, no moms involved.”

“You can’t, you already walked out of one overnight this season,” TJ cut in, to which Ryan responded with a quietly spoken ‘fuck’ under his breath. “Let’s just start filming, yeah? The sooner we get this done, the sooner morning will come, the sooner you can leave. Now, where do you think you’re gonna want the static cams set up?” TJ asked as Mark held up the bags he’d carried in with them.

Against Devon’s wishes, they decided to film the intro for the episode in the lobby with the dead rat, the compromise being that Shane and Ryan had to sit on opposite sides of the hallway that lead back the way they’d come so that the rodent’s body wouldn’t make it into the final shot. This was agreeable to all of them, but as Shane sat there, waiting for the camera to start rolling, he couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering back to its corpse occasionally, trying to deduce what it could have died from.

They tried to film with what little natural light they had left, but the sun had already been sinking when they’d arrived. Whatever light it managed to provide ended up fading away too fast for them to effectively use, eventually prompting TJ to insist on bringing in big, bright lights so they weren’t stuck filming in the dark. As Shane squinted into the newfound light source, his eyes adjusting poorly to the brightness, he managed to get a better look at the room they were set up in.

Based on his own opinion and how little he actually knew about Léry’s, it certainly didn’t look like the kind of place run by a malicious, CIA sanctioned group of sadists; to him, it looked like a hospital, plain and simple. The white paint along the walls was cracked and peeling, revealing discoloured splotches of drywall that furthered the eerie, run-down atmosphere the building had as a whole. Regardless of that and the dead rat, there was nothing in the general vicinity that implied Léry’s might have been used for something as sinister as torture- they even had what looked to be remnants of vintage motivational posters decaying behind the reception desk. Despite how foreboding the building had looked from the outside, inside it both looked and felt normal, which made him wonder again about where his original discomfort upon viewing the building might have derived from.

“This week on the season finale of Buzzfeed Unsolved: Supernatural, we’re investigating Léry’s Memorial Institute in Michaelstown, Illinois as a part of our ongoing investigation into the question, are ghosts real?”

Hearing Ryan’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. Unaware that they’d begun the segment, Shane turned to look at the camera Mark was holding and shook his head curtly on cue. The motion was well-practiced and concise, even if he was still squinting because of the lights.

He waited patiently as Ryan spoke of what he knew about Léry’s alleged history, repeating a lot of what he’d already mentioned to Shane earlier for the official intro. He went more in depth as he talked about the history of the building to the camera than he did with Shane, adding on some embellishments about the various conspiracy theories he’d dug up that involved what the staff at Léry’s might’ve been up to, and none of it sounded good.

“Léry’s was condemned and abandoned in 1983, and was even rumored to have been burnt down, but as you can see, since we are currently sitting inside the building, that clearly isn’t the case,” Ryan recited, shooting Shane a look that invited him in to begin a banter.

“Ryan, I swear to God if you’re trying to tell me that the building itself is a ghost, I will resign.” Shane forced his face into a serious expression that matched his disapproving tone of voice as Ryan laughed loudly. “You can get Brent back to be your new ‘ghoulfriend’ and you can just- the two of you can just run around these spooky places like a couple of headless chickens screaming about ghosts together.”

“No, that’s- that’s not what I’m saying,” Ryan said, a humorous inflection tinging his voice as he spoke. “What I’m saying is, is that someone either lied to cover up any potential future investigations into Léry’s alleged operations, or someone got it wrong; either way, Léry’s is still here.”

“And how’d you come to find that out?” Shane asked, honestly interested in Ryan’s answer. His friend had already admitted that researching the place had been hard and often netted him no real answers; if any and all official documentations surrounding Léry’s said it was no longer standing, then he wondered how Ryan was able to discover that it actually was.

“I looked up the coordinates on Google’s satellite image maps.” Shane raised his eyebrows at that, and Ryan shrugged in response. “There was a building here, and when I compared it to old images of the Memorial Institute I’d found dated pre 1980’s, they seemed to match. When I reached out to the current property owners, they agreed to let us look around as long as we didn’t try to ‘solve’ anything.”

“We never do,” Shane said wistfully, dramatically looking away for a moment, and again Ryan laughed, the sound of it echoing around the walls of the room.

“Alright, whatever, big guy; we can do all the ghost hunting we want, they said, but we have to let the sleeping dogs lie on whether or not Léry’s has a ‘tortured’ past or not; they don’t want any trouble with the government.” Ryan looked amused by his own pun, but Shane knew that his ability to find humour in little things like that wouldn’t last the night.

“Well, let’s get started then, shall we?” Shane said, slapping his hands to his thighs and beginning to feel his eagerness returning to him. He started to stand up, and Ryan sighed.

“Yeah, fuck, let’s- let’s get into it.”

“Is there anyone here with us right now?” Ryan spoke loudly and clearly as he addressed the spirit box, glancing around the room they were standing in cautiously as he held the small radio up between them. There was an overturned examination table and some rusted chairs in the room with them that Shane had initially tried to sit in, but found them too unstable to support him. “If there is, we’d really like to talk with you. My name’s Ryan, and my unnecessarily large friend here is Shane; I know he’s a little frightening to look at, but can you say either of our names?”

They waited for a response, Ryan pensively shifting his eyes around as though he might see a ghost hiding behind the old furniture while Shane did his best to not let his boredom show on camera. He waited silently for a moment, letting the spirit box spit out jumbled radio frequencies and broken fragments of words for Ryan to analyze later before deciding to chime in.

“Did you ever stop to think that the spirit box might be triggering these spirits you’re trying to contact?” he asked, voice drawling as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket. “If that doctor you mentioned earlier really did exist, then don’t you think it stands to reason that the static from the box might be traumatizing them? Torturing them in their afterlife? Maybe that’s why they don’t want to talk to you.”

“You’re just saying that because it tortures you,” Ryan said, snickering. He opened his mouth to say something else in support of his use of the spirit box, but was hushed when it began to pick up an unusual, garbled sort of noise.

If Shane hadn’t been accustomed to the usual tones of static the spirit box produced as it skipped through radio frequencies, he would have chalked the sound that was coming through the speaker now as typical spirit box sounds, but innately he knew that it wasn’t. Whatever was coming through the radio now was different, in that it had cut through the previous channel of static to effectively broadcast the new sound.

He could tell from the stunned reaction on Ryan’s face that he, too, recognized the sound as something unusual. This wet, static noise that was coming through the receiver had been unheard by either of them before.

Ryan turned his head to look up at Shane, any trace of amusement he’d been displaying before now gone as he struggled to make sense of what he was hearing. Before either of them could properly process what they were listening to, the sound slowly tapered off into silence.

Shane stared at the box in Ryan’s hand, waiting for the usual sounds of static to come back through the speaker so he could explain the phenomenon away as some sort of malfunction. He was preemptively formulating a response to the questions Ryan was sure to start asking when the whispering began.

The voice was low and quiet, possibly male, and managed to speak uninterrupted for more than a few consecutive seconds. Shane felt his skin break out into goosebumps as he listened, leaning forward to try and get a better understanding of what was being said even as Ryan recoiled, almost dropping the spirit box in his fright.

If the voice was whispering in any known language, Shane didn’t recognize it; the words registered as garbled, barely distinguishable nonsense to his ears, but the tone with which it spoke, intent and persistent, had his hair beginning to stand on end. Everyone in the room was hushed, although Ryan was beginning to hyperventilate, his breath coming in fast, wheezing gulps. His hand was visibly trembling, but he resolutely did not drop or set the spirit box down, a small act of bravery Shane admired him for.

They didn’t have long to focus on what the voice was saying before a loud, burst of static tore out of the speaker, ending the strange noises abruptly and causing Ryan to shout in surprise. Shane blinked solemnly at the little box as it returned to flickering through regular radio channels before he met Ryan’s stupefied gaze.

“What the fuck just happened,” Ryan gasped out, quickly turning the box off and setting it aside to deal with his minor anxiety attack.

No one had an immediate answer.

“Did anyone recognize what it was saying?” Devon asked timidly. “Not trying to be an alarmist here, but that… didn’t sound human to me.”

Ryan moaned at the implication and sat down hard on the floor, uncaring of how dirty it was.

“Look, let’s just all calm down and take a minute to think about it logically,” Shane said, attempting to take control of the situation in order to soothe his companion’s panic, but he didn’t feel calm himself. His heart was thudding away rapidly in his chest, though he told himself that it was due in part to being taken off guard by the loud outburst of static that came through at the end of the transmission. “Do you know every earthly language that exists?” he asked Devon, who shook her head reluctantly. He repeated the question to Mark and TJ before directing it to Ryan, and all their answers were the same. “Neither do I; just because it spoke in a language we can’t immediately identify doesn’t mean it wasn’t human. Have we all forgotten we’re in an old, ex-governmental building that was run by the fucking CIA? The box probably just latched onto an old numbers station or something.

“And anyway, I’d expect you to be more excited about this, little guy,” he said gently to Ryan, trying to encourage a positive reaction out of him. “We caught all that on film, buddy.”

From the floor, Ryan had stopped his rapid breathing as he processed Shane’s line of reasoning. He still looked frightened, but his expression also seemed more speculative after listening to Shane deliver his cowboy speech. When Shane reached a hand down to help him up, Ryan took it.

“You’re right. We have evidence,” Ryan said slowly as he rose back to full height, his eyes lighting up as he clasped Shane’s hand tightly to his chest.

Shane winced and tried to pull his hand free, but the clammy grip with which Ryan held to it was strong. “It could be any number of things before it could be ghosts, Ryan, you know that.”

“But if it’s not any of those other things, then it- it’s real! We have actual, recorded evidence! Léry’s Memorial Institute is certified haunted, baby!”

He let go of Shane’s hand at last, his fear momentarily forgotten as he did a quick dance, pumping his fist up and down into the air in a celebratory fashion. Mark trained the camera on him to capture the moment, swapping from Ryan’s joyful expression to Shane’s look of bewildered amusement. Devon looked on with a congratulatory smile until TJ eventually spoke.

“You… do realize you still have to stay the night here, right?” TJ said somberly, knowing that what he had to say would was going to affect Ryan negatively, and already they could all see the impact his words had on him as he stopped dancing. “I’m happy for you and all, but don’t forget we have a whole episode left to shoot.” Fresh horror dawned on Ryan’s face, his excitement over finding proof of the supernatural immediately dying out when he realized it didn’t absolve him from fulfilling the rest of his contractual obligations.

“Oh, fuck, you’re right,” he said with a groan, his shoulders slumping at the remembered thought. He brought his hands to his face and dragged his fingers down, pulling at his skin. “Ohh, fuck, you’re right. Shit.”

“Certified haunted, baby,” Shane teased with a weak grin, knowing already that it was going to be a long, sleepless night for the both of them.

They explored the area a little further after the incident with the spirit box, but didn’t manage to capture or illicit any other supernatural responses to their presence, though not for lack of trying. Everywhere they went, Shane demanded that the ghosts repeat the strange audio they’d managed to capture before and called them out on their cowardice when nothing happened. Ryan grew increasingly upset with his behaviour, but Shane was out to prove a point: whatever they’d discovered through the use of the spirit box wasn’t something supernatural, and if the spirits weren’t willing to entertain them, then he wasn’t willing to entertain the notion that it could be ghosts.

The logical part of his brain demanded he debunk it immediately, even if it meant he had to poop all over Ryan’s parade in order to do so, and he planned on taking the mightiest shit he could before they wrapped up filming for the night.

Most of the upper floors of Léry’s were condemned and deemed too unsafe for them to explore, barring their ability to scope out the building in its entirety, but the ground floors were plenty big enough to take up hours’ worth of time to investigate.

With Mark and TJ’s help, they set up three static cams where Ryan thought they’d get the most activity: one in the room where they’d gotten the spirit box to communicate with them (with an EVP device they would leave on all night), one in the reception area pointing down the hall they’d entered through, and the final one in a room Ryan had called the ‘treatment theatre’, where they’d decided to bunk down for the night.

It was a circular room with one single, ominous examination table set up in the middle over a system of rusty, grated flooring. A large set-up of outdated lighting systems hung low and broken over it, hanging like an untended widowmaker’s tree waiting to collapse, and for the first time that night Shane wondered if perhaps Ryan’s torture theory might have some truth behind it. Copper stains could be seen leading from the table to the grated floors, and he resolutely decided not to focus on them.

On the floor above them, reached only by a set of stairs set into the back of the room, was a windowed viewing booth that jutted out from the wall. A sense of unease overcame him as Shane looked at it, wondering what the people of the past had need of to stand up there in a room such as this, but he knew in the back of his mind what the answer to that was.

He tried to tuck his discomfort away as he laid out his sleeping bag next to Ryan’s, and wound up unsettling some dust into the air as he smoothed it out and plopped his pillow into place. He grimaced and tried to suppress a cough, but doing so only made the urge to cough worse. Ryan watched him hack whatever he’d inhaled into the crook of his arm, a wry smile of amusement playing at his lips.

“Need some water?” Devon asked, stepping forward with a water bottle already in hand.

Shane took it gratefully and drank until he felt his throat clear up. “Thanks,” he said as he capped it and set the bottle down beside his pillow.

“Should we see you guys out?” Ryan asked as Mark finished adjusting the camera that was set facing their sleeping bags, the red recording light already blinking with purpose.

Mark shrugged as he stood, taking his big shoulder camera back from TJ, who had had been dutifully holding it for him so he didn’t have to set it on the dirty floor.

“Nah, I think we can find our way out on our own,” TJ said as Mark wiped his knees clean of the grime. “I know you’ll probably just bolt if you get anywhere close to the exit anyway, Bergara.”

It was Shane’s turn to smirk as Ryan scowled, knowing that there was definitely some truth in that statement. Ryan had been unusually on edge throughout the rest of their investigation after their incident with the spirit box, and all Shane’s goading had done was make it worse.

“Have a good night, guys,” Devon said, looking uncertain about leaving them alone. She gave a little wave as Mark and TJ each said their goodbyes in turn. “We’ll see you in the morning; be safe, okay?”

“We’ll be fine; what’s the worst that’ll happen? A rat takes a nibble out of one of our ears?” Shane mustered up a smile he hoped looked assuring, but Devon didn’t seem comforted by it.

“The closest hotel we could book is 20 minutes away, but even still, don’t hesitate to call if you need something,” she said, and TJ nodded in affirmation.

“We’ll come as quick as we can,” he said, and Shane wasn’t sure why, but his words left a heavy weight in his stomach.

“Guys, we’ll be fine, this isn’t our first rodeo,” Shane said exasperatedly, and Ryan backed him up with a nod.

“The ghoul boys know how to behave themselves during a spooky sleepover,” he affirmed, but didn’t have the confidence required to back up what he was saying.

Still, Devon looked a little less doubtful and finally relented. She bid them goodnight once more before the three of them took their leave, carrying all the extra equipment Shane and Ryan wouldn’t need away with them to make packing up a little easier in the morning.

None of them knew it would be the last time they ever saw each other.

Shane sat down on his sleeping bag with a slight grunt and listened to their crew’s footsteps receding out of the room and away from them, echoing down the hall ominously. He waited until he couldn’t hear them anymore before he started getting ready for sleep, peeling away the opening of his sleeping bag to tuck his long legs inside.

“And then there were two,” he said rather cheerfully to Ryan as he got comfortable. He was met with a miserable sigh as his co-host begrudgingly slid into his own sleeping bag. He zipped it up promptly and stared up at the ceiling bitterly.

“You say that every time they leave, give it a rest already.”

“But it’s true every time it warrants being said,” Shane replied, drawing his phone out of his pocket and opening up Twitter. “We’re the only two people left in here; anyone else doesn’t exist, and you seem to need reminding of that fairly often.”

Ryan sighed shakily and turned his flashlight off, casting them both into the gloomy darkness, broken only by the glow of Shane’s phone as he scrolled through his social media feed.

“Shane? Are you awake? I’m kinda freaking out hardcore over here, buddy.”

It took a moment for Shane to register that he was being spoken to as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, rolling over in his bag to face where Ryan was laid out. As his vision adjusted to the dark, he could see that Ryan was wide-awake, still staring up at the ceiling where the viewing booth stuck out like a sore thumb.

“What?” Shane asked, his voice heavy and tired, rumbling out of his throat in a low timbre. “Whatsit?”

“I- I can’t sleep,” Ryan admitted, his voice sounding small.

“Surprising absolutely no one,” Shane muttered before yawning loudly and rubbing the crust out of the corners of his eyes; he’d only been just been able to fall asleep before Ryan woke him up.

“Shut up,” Ryan grumbled. “It- I can’t sleep because it feels like- it feels like we’re being watched. I know it’s just the dark, but sometimes I think I can see people up there, looking down at us.”

Shane turned his gaze up to the viewing booth, but couldn’t see anything that looked like what Ryan was worrying about. His eyes did try to force shapes out of the darkness behind the window, but he intrinsically knew that it was just his mind playing tricks on him, trying to get him to see things that weren’t actually there. “There’s no one here but us, Ryan,” he reminded him, turning his attention back to his friend.

“But the voice on the spirit box-”

“-was just a voice,” Shane cut in. “And look, I’ll be honest with you- it was a little jarring, and I’ll admit to being a little unnerved by it myself, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Wh- no! Why would that make me feel better?” Ryan spluttered, finally tearing his eyes away from the booth above them to fix his wide-eyed stare on Shane. “You’re supposed to be my, my grounding rock, my calming spirit; how can you be scared? You’re not allowed to be afraid, I- I’m the one who fears!”

Shane stared at Ryan for one wordless minute before breaking out into a hearty laugh, his voice carrying around the room and making it sound louder than it was.

“Alright, calm down there cowardly Heisenberg; I didn’t say I was scared, just unnerved,” he clarified. His laugh seemed to ease some of Ryan’s worries, as his face cracked into a tentative grin at his words. “It was weird, yes, but nothing else strange happened while we were walking around, did it?”

“No, I guess not,” Ryan admitted, looking a little sheepish now. He contemplated Shane’s words quietly for a moment before he asked, “Do you really think it was just a numbers channel?”

“I think it’s a possibility, yes,” Shane said, picking his words carefully so as not to exacerbate Ryan’s anxieties. He honestly had no idea what it was or what it could be, but he wasn’t anywhere near ready yet to admit that it could’ve had supernatural origins. “We’re in a weird old government hospital; I think the most likely thing to have happened is that our little boxy pal picked up on a weird frequency we weren’t supposed to have access to and gave us a glimpse into something that wasn’t meant for us.”

“Yeah, but, we’re in Illinois,” Ryan began, picking at the zippered hem of his sleeping bag as he put the thoughts he’d been ruminating on into words.

“So? If you’re about to start shit-talking this wholesome state, so help me God, we’re going to have to start exchanging some serious words here.”

“No, that’s not what- Look, Illinois is in America; what possible radio frequency being broadcast here could we have picked up on that doesn’t speak English, or any other spoken American language, or even human?” Ryan asked, gesticulating around them as he spoke.

Shane sighed and rolled onto his back, adjusting his pillow to better support his neck. “You don’t know that it’s not any known human language, Ryan, we established that. It was probably just some kind of a looping cipher the CIA forgot to turn off when they moved out, not some- some demon speaking to us in tongues.”

Beside him, Ryan groaned loudly and quickly withdrew his arms back into his sleeping bag, as though he were afraid that by naming it, one would suddenly appear.

“Please don’t say demon.”

“You just did,” Shane said, unable to keep himself from speaking rather snidely. Ryan shot him a pointed look of annoyance, but he couldn’t help his uncooperative attitude in that moment. He was sleepy, and could feel all the dust they’d been breathing in coagulating deep in his lungs. He was irritated, and he let it show. “Look, Ry, we can discuss this all we want tomorrow, but I am incredibly tired right now. Just… try and get some sleep, okay? We’ll pick this up later.”

“I think we both know that’s not gonna happen,” Ryan muttered, but he mercifully let the issue drop.

Whether or not their conversation had helped or hindered Ryan, Shane couldn’t say. It had been a strange night for both of them, all things considered, and he wanted nothing more than to just be done with it. As he closed his eyes to try and go back to sleep, the last thing Shane would later recall seeing was the darkness taking shape in the form of a face looming behind the window pane of the viewing booth, looking down upon them intently. A strange metallic taste wouldn’t leave his mouth no matter how much water he drank to try and ride himself of it, and although Ryan had forsaken the notion of sleep for himself entirely, he too eventually drifted off unawares.

And that was all it took; by the morning they were gone, taken without a trace, everything they’d brought with them left behind and undisturbed.

#buzzfeed unsolved #ryan bergara #shane madej #dead by daylight #buzzfeed unsolved: supernatural #rpf #supernatural rpf #AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT #remember when i mentioned id fish-flopped into another fandom? it was unsolved

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deermouth · 6 years ago

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Well I just had, an incredibly freaky dream.

I was walking home from some event in the late afternoon. It was cloudy and edging towards darkness, with wild dark clouds swirling in the sky above. I was quite tired. Suddenly, I happened to pass by a church-- a real old stone thing with a beautiful steeple and high arched windows. However, it was under construction, and so outside of it, in front, they had constructed a white plastic tent thing (but the rectangular kind, with walls and a ceiling), almost as big as the nave of the church itself would be, and put the altar in there. It was filled with candles, and the light through the translucent plastic windows was beautiful. The church’s doors were also open, and despite the construction, candlelight spilled out from them as well.

I passed it all, but soon found myself overcome with fatigue, and sat down on a stone bench not far from the church. I looked back, and noticed the pastor/priest/whoever had come out of the church and was standing near the tent, so I walked back to him and asked him if I could take some pictures of the two beautiful spaces. He obliged. I took a few pictures of the church, outside facing the doors only, got what I needed, and turned towards the tent.

It was easier to get the striking sky in the shots of the tent because it was not as tall as the church, so I sort of squatted down and angled my lens up, wanting only the similar shots to what I had taken of the church. As I was shooting, a cloud formation twisted, and suddenly I saw in its outline the great grey formation of an angel, watching me watch it, changing shape and moving in the air, but in that moment definitely conscious. Not approving or disapproving, but possessing a great power. The atmosphere felt heavier, and I wasn’t sure whether it was my duty to document this or to look away, but I kept taking pictures.

As this was all happening, an older man walked up to the church. He said some words to the priest and his assistant, a woman, and then went inside the tent to pray at the altar. The cloud-angel still twisted above, and at the exact moment that it ceased to be recognizable as anything more than a mass of water vapor, the old man turned and looked directly at me. He didn’t resemble any face I’ve seen before exactly, but his eyes, and his smile.......... looked exactly like BOB’s from Twin Peaks, with the same gleeful hostile manic intensity. I felt so, so afraid, like consumed by the hugest existential but very real terror. He took one step towards me, there was a flash of lighting and a huge clap of thunder, instantaneously, and then I woke up.

#this dream as actually incrediblely short i think #right before it i had some incredibly complicated post apocalyptic dream that like #involved fast food restaurants and hiding partially reformed zombie people from the police #sadly i don't remember enough of it bc it was quite cool #and I think one of my friends in it could turn into a horse? and there was a 9 year old who learned how to #throw knives and use a gun? anyways #dreams #txt

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blaperile · 6 years ago

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Homestuck Epilogues - Meat - Page 5

#Homestuck #The Homestuck Epilogues #Meat #reaction #Dave #Dirk #Jake

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pinkletterday · 6 years ago

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Title: You & I

Pairing:Barry Allen/Iris West

Other pairings:Coldflash, Coldwestallen, Olivarry, Queenwestallen, Queenwest, Superwestallen, Superflash, Superwest, Superflarrow, Westcanary, Iris West/OFC, Iris West/OMC

Summary:On the face of it, they have the perfect polyam marriage. Well, almost. No matter how loving the relationship, polyamory brings it's own set of problems.

Notes:

It's 5am and I've been up three hours with a fever. I wrote a Westallen polyam marriage negotiation thingy. Probably gonna cringe at it in a few hours but am still gonna post cause reality is meaningless and future me can suck it.

Iris watched her husband from the doorway of the twins' bedroom. She loved listening to him sing as much as her children did. It engulfed her in warm contentment, transporting her back in time to her own father's crooning by her bedside.

"But you're so

precious to me

Baby of mine..."

Donny was asleep but Dawnie, as usual, was actively fighting it.

"One more, Daddy."

"Nu-uh."

"Purrty pleease?"

"I'll sing you another one tomorrow night," Barry pressed a kiss to her temple, "Go to sleep, ladybug."

She sighed and acquiesied, snuggling under the covers. He tucked her stuffed rabbit next to her, dropped kisses on both their heads and slipped out, giving Iris a (very quiet) high-five.

She had just closed the bedroom door when his arms slid around her waist. He turned his face into her neck, pressing kisses to her bare skin.

"Mmm," she leaned back and smiled lazily, arcing into his lips. "Mr. Allen, you better not start something you can't finish."

"Why would you think I can't finish it?," he murmured and she felt his hardness press against her ass.

She tried not to grind back against it. "Because your boyfriend has already been waiting for you for an hour?"

Barry froze and drew back. "An hour? Shit, is it that late?"

"Uh huh," Iris fought down her disappointment and rolled her eyes at him. "I swear those two take longer to give in every night."

"Not possible. I vividly remember none of us sleeping for three months straight once," said Barry, but he was distracted calling Leonard on his phone.

"Hey babe, just wanted you to know I'm on my way. Just give me ten minutes to shower and change....yeah, I guess. Okay, I'll bring my bag. See you soon."

A familiar bleak feeling opened in her stomach, but she carefully schooled her features into wry amusement. "Ten minutes, huh?"

"Yeah, it's our code for "I'm having a quickie with my wife before I come over"," Barry crowded her against the wall, eyes dark with lust.

"Uh-uh," she tried to stop him with a grin and a hand on his chest. He ignored her and went back to kissing her neck. "Barry," she tried to be stern, but the dratted man knew her weak spots too well, "Barr, I'm really not in a quickie mood."

He drew back to look at her quizzically. "You sure? This morning you were all over me."

"No, I definitely want sex. I just want something slower and more thorough right now, and that's not what I'm going to get with a quick fumble before you run off to Len."

She immediately felt bad when his face fell.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said, eyes full of contrition.

"It's okay. You haven't seen him in two weeks," she smiled encouragingly at him. Of course they hadn't had sex in two weeks either. But it wasn't like they didn't see each other every day.

He still looked troubled. "Are you sure? Maybe you could come with me. I don't think Len would mind," he kissed her in reassurance. "You have a standing invitation, you know."

The thought of being wrapped up in the bodies of both her husband and his lover sent pulse of desire through her, but her heart wasn't in it. "I know. But I'm not horning on your reunion sexathon. Seriously, hon, its okay," she grinned at him salaciously. "I'll just pour myself a glass of wine, switch on my vibrator and get myself off on our bed thinking of all the dirty things you two are probably doing."

Barry's eyes went dark. "Mrs. West-Allen, are you objectifying us?"

"Yes," she breathed close to his lips. "And you can tell Len exactly how."

He crushed him to her in a hard kiss.

They had a rule of greatly reduced superspeed in the house unless in case of emergency, so he had to take a few seconds longer to gather up his things than he would have.

"Have fun," she raised on her tip-toes to kiss him. "What?"

He was looking at her with a considering expression. "It's been a while since you've gone out with someone yourself. Not since Daniel."

"I go out," she said defensively. "Sara and I are going strong. And I get to join you and Oliver and Len and Kara whenever I want to. Plus, I had a fun afternoon with that intern last week," she slanted a sultry grin at him. Barry had been very interested in her detailed recounting of the encounter.

But he ignored her deflection. "I mean something serious. You see Sara like three times a year, we never know when Kara turns up to crash and I'm the one actually dating Oliver and Len."

A frission of irritation ran through her. "Why is this a problem? Not all of us have speedster sexual appetites, Barry. I barely have time for you between work and the kids."

"I know that. And it's not about sex," he framed her face and kissed her soothingly on her forehead. "I just. Want to make sure you're happy. I never want any part of you to go unfullfilled," his eyes were so loving and tender that her heart ached even more.

Then stay. "I'm fine, babe," she smiled, hoping she sounded convincing. "If I do feel "unfulfilled" you can help me find someone. Now shoo! And don't come back till at least afternoon, I can cover the kids till then."

He kissed her hard once more. "God, you're the perfect woman. Len and I'll take the kids out on Sunday, let you have the house to yourself. And tomorrow night," he husked against her ear, "I'm going to take you apart for hours until you pass out from cumming."

Her knees were weak when he flashed out the window. But the hollowness persisted.

Iris ruminated on it while she poured herself a glass of wine and snuggled under the covers of their bed. The feeling been rather pronounced lately, mostly whenever Barry had to rush out on family time for superhero emergencies or rush out on her for well, everything else it seemed. But more so when he had to leave her to make time with his lovers.

She couldn't figure out why that was. They had never begrudged each other their partners; there was some healthy possessiveness yes, but not jealousy and insecurity.

She had seen exactly when Barry had fallen in love with Oliver before he knew it himself, had been with him every step of the way over their subsequent I-don't-deserve-you-stay-away-before-I-hurt-you-why-won't-you-love-me ridiculousness; had held his hand during his hilarious spazzing out over Len. Thankfully he and Kara had been blessedly drama-free and cute as puppies, although she was more his queerplatonic partner with benefits.

In turn, Barry had encouraged her to explore her sexuality with Sara and Kara and other women. He had met and approved of Daniel and comforted her through the heartbreak of their breakup. He had even hoped for a while that she and Oliver would form a relationship of their own, but they had decided not to go down that road in the end. She had grown to love Oliver and was quite fond of Snart, and enjoyed the occasional romp with them immensely, but she was certain there would be murder involved if she was actually in a relationship with either of them.

She really held no resentment against any of them. Maybe Barry was right and her break up with Daniel was getting to her more than she knew. Maybe she should get out there and find another relationship for her own.

The thought made her feel tireder than ever. The obvious perk of marriage was to not have to navigate the hellscape that was dating strangers.

She opened the drawer in their bedside table and looked disdainfully at the assorted vibrators and sex toys.

She didn't want anyone else. She wanted her husband. And there just wasn't enough of him to go around.

Maybe she should have taken him up on that quickie.

She shut the drawer and slumped back against the pillows with a sigh. And waited.

The door creaked open right on time and small socked feet padded to the foot of the bed.

"Mommy, I can't sleep." Dawnie clutched her stuffed rabbit and stared at her with the hazel eyes that were so much like Barry's.

Her heart melted, the bleakness finally dissapating. "Come here, boo," she held out her arms and snuggled her baby against her chest.

...

Her Dad knew. He knew but carefully pretended he didn't know, probably for his own sanity. Joe West might go along with whatever science fiction shenanigans the universe saw fit to throw at him every year, but he drew the line at his daughter and son-in-law's sexual proclivities. Iris had once tried explaining to him that it wasn't just sexual, Len and Oliver and Kara were all relationships as meaningful to Barry as their own was, that they were part of their family too. He had simply ignored her.

She could have let it slide if not for how much it hurt Barry. He pretended that it didn't matter that Joe couldn't accept his relationships, that he even understood where he was coming from. But the boy who had sought his surrogate father's approval still hurt inside and that Iris could not forgive.

Fighting only distressed him more, so after two weeks of mutual silent treatment, Iris and her father had begrudgingly slipped into a status quo of "don't ask don't tell".

This had only been broken once. Iris had come home from spending the night at Daniel's to find Joe babysitting the twins, Barry having been called away on an emergency.

He had said nothing, but let Iris settle the kids down in front of the tv and followed her to the kitchen. She had gone about making lunch, determinedly ignoring him despite her own anger and embarrassment rising under his disapproving eyes.

"You're playing with fire, Iris," he told her. "What happens if you get pregnant by this guy? Or someone else?"

Iris resisted the urge to tell him it was none of his business, since he was so hell-bent on not even acknowledging it. "Then we bring up the kid together," she said evenly, staying focused on buttering the bread. "Me, Barry and whoever it is."

"You really think it'll be so easy? That Barry and "whoever it is" won't have problems down the line?"

"We probably will, but no more than other blended families," she finally looked Joe right in the eye, jaw set in a mirror of his own. "We've actually talked about these things, Dad. Any child of mine is always going to be Barry's as well."

"And what if Barry knocks someone up?"

Iris hid flash of amusement. If Joe had bothered to notice, Barry's extra-marital tastes mostly ran to men, and even then only to long-term relationships. Kara was an exception but then she was unable to procreate with humans.

They had discussed it though. Particularly in case Oliver had a yen to have another kid with Barry.

"There isn't one rule for him and one for me, Dad. Barry's kids are mine, my kids are Barry's, end of."

Her Dad had sighed and rubbed his temple in that "I'm-done-here" way. But he hadn't brought it up again. Iris figured it was the best they could hope for.

...

tbc

#myfic #the flash #olivarry #westallen #wip #coldflash #polyamory #kids and family #bad posting decisions at 5am

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allinmycorner · 3 years ago

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Welcome to Season 30!

Dancing With the Stars is back! Tyra is once again our host and she’s the only one. Derek is still on the judging panel along with Carrie Ann and Bruno but Len is also back after being stuck in England due to COVID. We also have an audience again as well, though everyone is masked and socially distant. The stars are still also socially distanced but are now sitting at tables next to the dancefloor rather than positioned around the empty studio. It’s feeling more and more normal.

All the pros dancing this season are returning ones, especially Witney and Lindsay who are back after giving birth to their children last year. It’s nice to have them back and to keep some of the dancers we came to love last season like Britt, Pasha and Daniella.

There’s already some controversy regarding the cast, though isn’t there always some controversy? This year, it’s been mostly split between JoJo and Olivia Jade. For JoJo, it wasn’t so much the fact that she was to be part of the first same sex pairing (though I’m sure there were corners who did disapprove of this) but rather that she got got her start on Dance Moms. She is known as a dancer and people think this gives her an unfair advantage. But we learned throughout the premiere that many contestants have a dance background as well - for example, Amanda Kloots was a Broadway performer and can dance. So I think with this group, JoJo is on a more even playing field and doesn’t have a huge advantage over the cast.

And Olivia Jade is still experiencing backlash from the college scandal, which was addressed, as well as some of her comments on YouTube which people saw in a new light after the scandal. She is seeking redemption and to me, I still don’t know if she’s fully accepted and admitted how much privilege she has. But I think this could work in her favor if she is able to show humility and works hard.

With that out of the way, let’s check out how our stars did during the first show!

JoJo and Jenna: JoJo and Jenna are making history as the first same sex couple, something that's been advocated for for years. I remember Carson tried to be paired with a male pro in his season and was rejected. It's long past time for the producers to come around. Jenna and JoJo are even matched and work well with each other. Their quickstep was a lot of fun and a great way to close out the show, even if Jenna had a slip. JoJo, though, held her and they recovered quickly. I do think this competition may be JoJo's to lose!

Amanda and Alan: Amanda is so sweet. Her tango was pretty good for week 1. She needs to work a little more on technique but she's got the talent, so that's a good foundation. Alan will definitely be able to help her improve as the weeks go on and I know she is going to make Nick proud wherever he is now.

Suni and Sasha: Suni was so excited to be paired with Sasha! He's no doubt a familiar figure to her given his partnership with Simone Biles, her teammate. And she's right - he does have a good touch with gymnasts. Her jive was another great start. The judges were right that she needs to be more fluid and not look down so much but I think she'll get there.

Mel C and Gleb: Mel C looks amazing! She really set the bar for this season with a strong cha-cha that hit all the right notes without looking too nervous. I think she'll only get better as the weeks go on and may give the other women a run for their money.

Kenya and Brandon: I love Brandon. And I think with Kenya, he'll be around for a good number of weeks. She had a good start with the foxtrot. Kenya was graceful and handled it well. Like everyone else, she has things to work on but once she does, she'll be competition for the others.

Melora and Artem: The reigning champ is back and ready to go for trophy #2 with Melora. She also had a good start with the tango and is comfortable on the dance floor. While she may not be as skilled as some of the others are out of the gate, I do think she could catch up. Artem will definitely be a good teacher for her and knows how to choreography to his partners' strengths, so she's in good hands.

Christine and Pasha: I'll be honest, I have no clue who she is. But she seems pretty likeable and committed to the show. And I like Pasha so I'm rooting for him. They also had a good tango. I think she'll be around for a bit longer but I don't think she'll make it past the midpoint but I wouldn't mind being wrong!

Olivia and Val: Olivia had a salsa right out of the gate, which is a bit harder than some of the more basic dances we've seen tonight - cha-cha, foxtrot, jive - but she managed it. I'm not sure if the producers gave it to her to prove she is dedicated and willing to put in the work or they just throw darts at a board to pick dance styles. But she is partnered with Val, who is a good teacher and choreographer, so I think he will be able to continue to help her improve. As long as she's serious about doing the work, I think she'll be fine. She might be a dark horse but right now, I don't imagine her hitting the finals.

Looks like the women absolutely dominated the first night of competition. But many of the men gave them a run for their money. Check out my thoughts on them:

Brian and Sharna: Brian and Sharna are dating and they seem to have a pretty sweet relationship. Both seem to also be taking this seriously - Sharna is not going easy on her boyfriend and he's not expecting her to do so. Brian had a good start in his dance and his relationship with Sharna certainly helps with their chemistry. I'm eager to see them do a rumba together honestly. But I am also a little worried - didn't Julianne partner up with her then-boyfriend and it didn't really go well for them? Or maybe it went south well after DWTS and their partnership had nothing to do with it. No matter, I am rooting for Brian and Sharna.

Cody and Cheryl: I don't do Peloton so I have no clue who Cody is. But he seems to be a ball of positive energy so I think it's take him far. And he's paired with Cheryl, which is another plus. His tango was a good start. I'm not sure I'm ready to call him an early leader. I'll see what happens next week.

Matt and Lindsay: Our obligatory Bachelor Nation appearance is here! Matt certainly has big shoes to fill since the last two winners are also part of Bachelor Nation. He is paired with Lindsay and they seem to have a good partnership. He's holding his own so far with the others but it remains to be seen if he can keep up or if he falls behind. And if Bachelor Nation can save him if he can't break away from the pack.

The Miz and Witney: The Miz is all for this. And he did better than I thought. He could probably be a bit more graceful and fluid but Witney can whip him into shape. He's going to have to really pay attention to her if he wants to break away from the pack but for now, he's doing fine.

Jimmie and Emma: I like Jimmie and I love Emma so I'm supportive of this couple. He's another promising contestant but he's going to have to put in the work soon. The earlier you pull away from the pack, the better. But I think he can do it and he and Brian might be able to start giving the women some competition.

Iman and Daniella: There's certainly a height different but they can overcome that. Daniella probably can get some tips from Witney. I believe she's been paired with some tall contestants in the past. And she needs to be careful. I knew Len was going to ding her for the choreography as there was very little in hold. She probably thought she could get away with it given the height difference but now that Len's back, he's not going to be so lenient on the choreography. I wouldn't want to see Iman go because Daniella is trying to be creative but ultimately not really addressing the height issue.

Martin and Britt: Poor Martin. He's clearly the weak link, though he is 74. But it's clear that Britt needed to coach him through the paso doble. Which is a hard dance. I'm not sure why the producers gave it to them unless they thought it would work best with his martial arts background. But it's clear he's having fun and I enjoyed his Cobra Kai/Karate Kid-inspired opening. I hope he's around a bit longer but I have a feeling he'll be the first on the chopping block.

So that was the first show of Season 30! I’ll see you all next week when we find out who is going home first!

#dancing with the stars #ABC #season 30

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firesoulstuff · 6 years ago

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Hahaha! Okay, you asked for it...190 & 183, Captain Canary because, well, DUH! I like CC! 😉 I can see them on a mission off the Waverider looking to get frisky

Making Time

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12378978/chapters/33920097

Smut Warning!

This is getting ridiculous.

One would think that with Mallus defeated the Legends would finally get a little bit of a break. But no, these days they’re busier than ever, dealing with aberrations and anachronisms alike, not to mention the occasional demons.

Sara, personally, doesn’t think just a few hours without the timeline collapsing should be too much to ask for but, unfortunately, the universe doesn’t seem to care.

“These constant missions are really starting to drive me nuts.” She complains as she heads from her office to meet the team on the bridge for yet another briefing, the second one today.

She hears Leonard hum in agreement behind her, and when she comes to a stop in front of the main console, leaning heavily on it with exhaustion, she shivers at the sensation of his fingers lightly skirting her ass before settling low on her hips.

“I know,” he whispers, his thick voice sending another chill down her spine. He presses a kiss to her temple, and it shouldn’t do the things to her that it does, but at this point they’ve been going for weeks with no time for anything other than quick words and stolen kisses. “Just hang in there.”

She hadn’t even realized her eyes were closed until she’s opening them, watching Leonard as he steps to her side like nothing happened, the others filing in. But Sara sees the dark desire in her boyfriend’s eyes, and the way that they linger on her for just a second too long.

She shakes her head; she needs to snap out of this. Soon they’ll catch a break, hopefully, and then assuming they aren’t dead tired she and Leonard can tear each other’s clothes off all they want.

Until then, they have a job to do.

“Ok,” she starts the second giving of the orders today, “I know we’re all tired but unfortunately the time stream doesn’t give a crap. So, here’s what we’re gonna do. We’ve got two urgent problems right now and about five that, so long as they don’t escalate while we’re dealing with the big ones, can be put on the backburner for a few hours. We split up and handle the two big ones, then we take a break for a couple hours and catch some sleep.” There is a round of grateful sighs at her words, just going to show how truly exhausted they all are. “So, here we go. John, Wally, and Nate, the three of you are taking the jump ship to 2002 Hawaii, there have been reports of some kind of demon running loose around Kauai. Everyone else we’re heading to 2011 New York for an arms deal. Mick and Amaya, you’re going in undercover, there’s going to be a man there using the name Manta. Don’t ask me why, he must think it’s cool, just don’t let him walk out of there with the… Nano Tech thing they’re auctioning. Ray and Zari, you’re staking out the back of the building, Leonard and I will take the front. If we’re lucky, this’ll all be over within a couple of hours.”

“Ugh…” Sara groans, tipping her head back against the passenger seat of her and Leonard’s “liberated” car. “How long is this going to take?”

Leonard chuckles in his own seat, stifling a young.

“Take a nap, I’ll keep watch.” He offers and it’s sweet, really it is, so she almost feels bad groaning again.

“I don’t want to take a nap,” she protests and Len snorts.

“You’ve barely slept all week, you really expect me to believe you don’t want to take a nap?”

“Yup,” she answers, an idea running through her mind that she should know is a bad on, except for she can’t bring herself to do that. Instead she looks at him with a slight pout of her lip, and makes sure to put just enough suggestion into her voice. “I want to do something else.”

At first he gapes at her. He isn’t denying her, yet, but he doesn’t exactly look thrilled about what she’s just proposed. Actually, he doesn’t even look like he’s sure of what she just proposed. He’s scanning her like he’s searching for some kind of hint, believing that she can’t possibly have just suggested what he thinks she has.

“Are you crazy?” He finally manages, voice overtaken with shock. “We can’t do that here!”

“Why not?” It’s a stupid question; she knows the answer to that before it’s even out of her mouth, yet she asks it anyway. There are plenty of reasons as to why they can’t do that here, the fact that they’re on a mission being at the top of the list.

“Because…” Len finally splutters, floundering for the best reason to give her, but to her surprise, instead of deciding on one, he surges forward and captures her lips in a deep kiss.

Despite being a little caught off guard Sara returns the kiss, her tongue immediately requesting access to his mouth. Instead of granting it, however, he pulls away. His hands remain cupping her face as the two of them share a look, an unspoken conversation regarding if they are really going to continue this, and then they’re back at each other. Leonard makes a little grunting noise, causing Sara to moan. He swallows the sound, hands moving down to her waist and pulling. She complies with his unspoken request, shifting in her seat without breaking contact and swinging one leg over the center console followed swiftly by the other so that she is straddling him.

“Lay back,” she whispers, voice husky. She’s keeping her back intentionally rigid, as so to avoid pressing against the horn; and that is something she would rather not be focusing on.

Len grunts at her request, his left hand moving from her hip and fumbling around for the seat lever.

It is barely two seconds later that they both go crashing down rather unceremoniously, heads knocking together upon landing.

“Ugh,” Len groans, “Car sex looks so much easier in the movies.” He complains and finally it’s Sara’s turn to smirk.

“Is this something you’re just discovering now?” She inquires, pressing another hungry kiss to his lips.

“What can I say?” He asks, pausing to give her another kiss. “I didn’t spend high school dating delinquents.”

Another kiss, “No,” Sara purrs with a soft smile, bringing her lips back to his before parting yet again. “You were the delinquent.”

Len hums lightly in agreement to that and doesn’t say anything more, far too caught up in the moment. His hands move to skim underneath the hem of her shirt and the feel of his fingers on her bare skin has Sara drawing back, dark eyes locked on his as she pulls her shirt over her head.

Leonard’s eyes, which were already dark as her own, darken even more at the sight and he licks his lips in the way he knows makes her want him all the more.

Well, two can play at that game.

She starts rocking her hips against him, feeling him hard underneath her even through their clothes. His head goes tipping back with a groan, bringing a smile to her face as she begins to quicken her pace. He gives an indignant huff to that, clearly enjoying the things she’s doing to him.

“How long’s it been for us?” He practically whimpers the question, crying out as she grinds herself harder against him.

“Too long,” Sara pants, near breathless, a needy whimper of her own following the words. She can feel her own heat beginning to pool up inside her, the friction caused by her now wet pants quickly growing more irritating than pleasurable. “I need you, now.”

Ordinarily Leonard would tease her for her demanding tone, chide her for being so impatient, but this time all he does is slip a hand between them so he can get to his zipper. Sara’s smile lights up excitedly at this, her hands suddenly flying to push her own pants and underwear out of the way. Normally they’re a lot less eager, liking to take they’re time rather than jump right into things. But they can’t be sure how much time they have here, and they know they aren’t going to have any time at all later.

So, once all the necessary clothing is as out of the way as it needs to be, Sara sinks herself down onto Leonard.

They both gasp at the sensation, neither of them accustomed to her taking him this early into things, but it feels so good. Leonard bites his lip to keep from crying out, hands digging into Sara’s hips and bringing her down to him. She rocks her hips as he lowers her, meeting his desperate kiss and moaning into his mouth when he bucks his own hips and begins to match her pace. This isn’t going to take long, for either of them. Sara’s fingers are already kneading roughly into Len’s shoulders and how she wishes he wasn’t still dressed.

“What wrong?” He whispers hastily against her lips when a groan that definitely isn’t pleasure escapes her lips.

“Pants,” she replies automatically, her lips barely leaving his and her hips still moving. At first she feels her boyfriend smirk against her kiss, but then he pulls back and stops the movement of his hips.

This, naturally, has Sara growling with disapproval and she looks back to see that Len’s eyes have fallen to where their bodies are joined, thus he’s noticed that the harsh teeth of his zipper are facing up and from that he can obviously realize they’re scraping rather uncomfortably against Sara’s sensitive clit with every move either of them makes.

Putting her hands along his face Sara brings his eyes back to hers.

“I don’t care,” she tells him firmly, and she really doesn’t. She’s been holding this desire in for far too many days. She just wants to feel herself come undone around him; she can deal with a little discomfort this one time.

“I can-”

“No,” she interrupts; leaning down and pressing another kiss to him lips. “No way, that would require me getting off you.” Another kiss, “And that’s not happening.” This time when she kisses him her hips roll, completely of their own accord. Len must have the same reaction, judging by the way his hips jerk to match the movement and he moans against her mouth.

Sara takes this to mean she’s won, until he slips a hand between them and his fingers latch onto her clit to form a barrier between her and the zipper. She squeaks in surprise at this, nearly crying into his mouth and when he starts moving his thumb in fast circles against her, right as he thrusts up into her, she just can’t help it anymore, she is gone.

She cries out his name as her orgasm explodes up her spine, having to break the contact of their kiss. He follows her over the edge; gasping with pleasure as he fills her and god does it feel good. They haven’t had time for things like this in weeks, and if they were back in their bedroom on the ship this would only be the beginning of a fantastic night, so it’s probably for the best that while in the processes of riding out her climax Sara bangs her head against the car door.

The loud “thunk” is like a splash of cold water for the two of them, forcing them to gather their bearings far sooner than they would like to.

“You ok?” Len asks as his girlfriend, rather regretfully, climbs off him and back into her own seat.

“Great,” she answers with a dirty smile, awkwardly pressing her back against her seat so she can get her pants back up before searching for her discarded shirt. “No, I barely felt the door.”

“Good,” Len smirks, situating himself so that it doesn’t look like anything happened. “Wouldn’t want to explain to the team how you got a concussion during a stake out.”

Speaking of the team, Ray and Zari are still in their own borrowed car at the back of the building Amaya and Mick are still inside, Ray watching the door and Zari still staring blankly at the smoldering piles of dust that used to be their comms.

#DC's Legends of Tomorrow #sara lance #leonard snart #Captain Canary #smut #writing prompts

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skylarmiller04-blog · 7 years ago

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Cool Through My Eyes

In November 1968, the cigarette company, Virginia Slims, designed an all new advertisement designed to target women. On the ad is a woman, Cynthia Robinson, who is shown smoking a cigarette in the cellar trying to hide her addictive habit from her husband. This image of Robinson is contradictory. At the time the photo was taken, 1915, Robinson contradicted herself. She dressed like a proper housewife, wearing a chic, long dress with her hair in a stylish bun, but in that moment she was acting like anything but a proper housewife. In 1915, women were seen as an accessory to men. They were expected to sit still and look pretty, and when they got married they took on the role of being the ideal housewife. This entailed cooking, cleaning, taking care of the children, and doing pretty much whatever their husbands told them to do. What they were not expected to do was smoke. Smoking was seen as a man’s habit, it was not for women. And when women did smoke, it appeared as if they were rebelling, which they were. Cynthia did not care that smoking was considered a man’s activity, she took part in it anyways. When smoking that cigarette in the cellar, Cynthia Robinson knew that her actions would have consequences, meaning her husband would be upset with her smoking and he was. When he caught her smoking, he immediately sent her up to her room. She was thirty-four years old and yet he treated her like a child, not his wife. But she did not let that get her down. She continued to rebel against him, which is a key element to the idea of cool according to Dick Pountain and David Robins, the authors of Cool Rules: Anatomy of an Attitude (26). This soon became a widespread attitude held by women. They started rebelling against the perfect housewife image. They were done trying to appease their husbands and were doing more of what they wanted to. To me, this is a key characteristic behind the idea of cool. As defined by Dick Pountain and David Robins, cool is an attitude that takes on the characteristics of rebellion, ironic detachment, hedonism, and narcissism (26). I think Cynthia was a cool woman, much cooler than me. She rebelled against her husband and societal norms, did things that brought her pleasure, and did not show her feelings towards people’s disapproval of her smoking. All of these characteristics Cynthia possessed are key to her coolness. But me? I do not think I am that cool anymore. I follow the rules instead of breaking them. I listen to my parents and grandparents instead of rebelling against them. And I do what I know will benefit me in the long run instead of what I want to do in the moment just because I want to do it. And to be honest, I think I have had the wrong idea of cool in my head for a while. Prior to reading Pountain and Robins’ book, I used cool as a synonym for good, which is completely inaccurate. In fact, they go out of their way to state in their novel that cool means the “opposite of ‘good’” (31). If someone asked me last year if I thought I was cool, I would have said yes. I had plenty of friends in high school and we were all getting accepted into prestigious universities. Whether it be Notre Dame, Georgetown, Dartmouth, Harvard, or even the University of Miami, we were all accepted into schools with excellent reputations. Not to brag, but people wanted to be like us. They wanted to be in our friend group, they wanted all of their hard work in high school to take them to where we were going. Other high school seniors wanted to be like us because we had the “perfect work-life balance.” We put in the work to maintain our near perfect GPAs and high standardized test scores while being able to still play sports and hang out with friends. We were not your typical nerds, we were still regular high schoolers, we just put in a lot of effort to everything we did. Somehow all of these things made us popular in a sense. Everyone in school knew who we were and they wanted to be us. They thought we were cool, which made me think I was cool. But I really wasn’t. The idea I had in my head as cool was far from what cool really is. In all actuality, I was far from cool. I was acting like a sheep. I did what was expected of me and what was accepted among my peers. I most definitely did not rebel against anything, unless you count the fact that my uniform shorts were an inch too short. The way I see it is that I didn’t really have a reason to rebel. I was content with how my life was going. But, people like Cynthia Robinson had a reason to rebel and they ended up changing society through their rebellion. On another note, Friedrich Nietzsche once said, “to live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.” Cynthia Robinson most certainly suffered in her time, me? Not so much. Cynthia lived in a society where men and women were not seen as equals, rather women were possessions men owned. She was not able to do things men were able to do simply because of her gender. If that is not oppression, then I do not know what is. But I have not suffered like that at all. I basically have had everything handed to me on a silver platter. If I wanted a new outfit, makeup, jewelry, or even purse, I got it. I have not had to partake in manual labor, in fact I have never even had a job. I have not been seen as inferior to the guys around me either. Basically, I have lived the life every other white girl in America in the 21st century has lived. And something else Nietzsche said, about people transforming their muck to gold, has stuck with me (Hollingdale). I truly do agree with Nietzsche in this aspect, I just cannot relate to it. The closest I have come to suffering is having to put up with a high school teacher who did not teach. That’s all. I have not suffered from an ailment, a death in the family, or even being oppressed in society like other people have and still are. I don’t think I can channel my muck into gold simply because I don’t have any muck. I’m sure I’ll have some in the future, it is part of the human condition to suffer, so muck is inevitable at some point in my life, it just hasn’t happened yet, and that is okay. I’m in no hurry to suffer. Another thing I did not realize until reading Cool Rules: Anatomy of an Attitude is that “cool change[s] from place to place, time to time, and generation to generation” (Pountain and Robins 17). So what I think is cool is different from what my parents think is cool and what my grandparents think is cool. Therefore, what I think is cool is different from what Pountain and Robins thought is cool and that is okay. I am not saying that Pountain and Robins are looking at cool from the wrong perspective, everyone views cool from a different lens and that is what makes it such a unique attitude to possess. To me, what I want to be and what is cool do not seem to overlap. Growing up as an only child, I tended to do what my parents asked of me. I was and still am very close to my parents, so I do not like upsetting or disappointing them. I made sure to partake in various clubs, honors societies, and a varsity sport in high school while also getting into college. In short, I did not get into trouble and was constantly seeking my parents’ approval. In the eyes of Pountain, Robins, and Nietzsche to name a few, I did not live a cool life. I live my life how I want to, but it is not cool. According to these writers, what cool people would do is drop out of school, move away from home, and hang out in an alleyway or abandoned building smoking with other vagabonds. They would not try to plan out the next ten years of their lives. I do not think cool is meant for everyone and that is what makes it so mysterious and desirable. I think there is a weird balance of cool in my life. While I might not want to be cool, I still admire cool people, like James Dean and Cynthia Robinson. I have not been able to figure out why my attraction towards them exists seeing as I do not want to be cool myself. But, if I had to choose, my favorite element of cool is the “ability to be nonchalant at the right moment” (Thompson 41). When I think of James Dean, I do not think of him smiling a cheesy smile because someone said they were going to photograph him. I think of his deep, dreamy eyes, relaxed pose, and his minuscule smirk. In fact, it was a rare occasion when a photographer managed to capture James Dean smiling. I think that is cool. He was always composed and looked as if nothing affected him. Even if he was feeling extreme happiness, sadness, or excitement, he always managed to remain composed. I admire this about him and I think this composure adds to his mystique and coolness. Me on the other hand, when someone tells me they are going to take a picture of me, I smile the cheesiest smile. Another aspect of cool that I find interesting is the balance between life and death. Unlike most people, myself included, cool people acknowledge they are going to die at some point instead of acting like they will live forever. So, they flirt with death. They push the boundaries of living that border with death. Frank Sinatra smoked, Jim Morrison was on drugs, and James Dean drove fast cars and broke speed limits. And sometimes, when they took part in activities that can trigger death, they couldn’t escape it. James Dean was not nicknamed “One-Speed Dean” for no reason. His one speed was fast, and he was going fast enough that he was not able to slow down his car prior to crashing into another vehicle causing him to die. Sometimes when flirting with death, death wins. But at least cool people do not try to outrun death. They accept it with open arms because they acknowledge the fact that one day they will die. It is an inevitable truth humans cannot escape. I think I am still in denial about death, or I haven’t processed the fact that one day I will die no matter how hard I try to avoid it. I act like death doesn’t exist, but when it does occur, it doesn’t affect me. This why I go to the gym, eat kale and quinoa salads, and go to SoulCycle. I am trying to prolong death, as silly as that sounds. This isn’t how cool people act though. I think that I am so focused on trying to outrun death per se, that I am too busy to enjoy life in the current moment. Langston Hughes once wrote, “But for livin’ I was born” in his poem, “Life is Fine” (22). Cool people live their life to the fullest extent. Sometimes they die in the process, but they live their life. I am kind of envious of that. I live life with the thought of death in the back of my mind. I refuse to do certain adventurous things, like bungee jumping, zip-lining, and skydiving because I know it could result in death. After all, you aren’t required to sign a waiver prior to taking part in these activities for nothing. But cool people sign that waiver without blinking an eye. I guess they think of it as a risk worth taking, and I agree with that thought, but saying that and acting upon that thought is two different things. I guess if we don’t take any risks in life we aren’t really living, we are just going through the motions, stuck in a cycle of monotony as T.S. Eliot mentions in his poem, The Waste Land. While I already established I do not want to be cool in its entirety, I would like to be cool in some aspects, like maintaining composure and embracing life because I know I will die. But, I do not wish to rebel, suffer, and be narcissistic. I think I have come to that realization that cool is not meant for me, and that is okay. It is kind of like when W.E.B. Du Bois realized that he “was different from the others” (1). While everyone is different from one another, people are all sheep. Whether I am a black sheep or white sheep, I am still a sheep nonetheless. It is up to each and every person to choose if they blend in with the white sheep or stand out and be the black sheep. Something that stuck with me in Cool Rules: Anatomy of an Attitude was that “cool’s real work is done inside” (22). I do not think cool comes about through the possessions people own. I think that cool is displayed via one’s clothes and attitude. People dress how they want others to perceive them and to cool fashion is art (Pountain and Robins 22). And the way people interact with others, the way they think, and the ideologies they hold are pertinent to cool, in my eyes. And I think to a certain extent, everyone is cool. It is just a matter of if they display their coolness or not.

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letmetellyouthatiloveyou · 7 years ago

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Another Paranormal AU - Coldflash

Ghost!Barry is forlorn and acting in a way that is unusual for those in the spirit realm. This catches the attention of Medium!Len, who does not frequently engage with his sixth sense.

This is my shot at a Coldflash Ghost!Barry AU, written for Day 4 of Coldflash Week 2017 B., but I am quite a bit late.

I apologize for any weird auto-correct things in this. I wrote it completely in the notes on my phone.

Read on AO3 here.

Len had been a medium ever since he could remember. The paranormal arts have run in their family for generations. His sister could even walk on the other side if she went deep enough into a trance.

Lisa assures him that he would likely be able to do the same, if he just let himself. Len won’t though. Being aware and in touch with his ability and letting himself succumb to it completely are two different things.

Lately Len had been seeing a lot more spirits. They were obviously the victims of the STAR Labs particle accelerator explosion.

One kept catching his eye though. The young spirit seemed to be clinging on to his human life more so than the others.

He was frequently at Jitters, lingering near a group of cops. He hangs out around Central City Police Department, Central City Picture News, a couple houses in the suburbs, and at an apartment in Lisa’s building most frequently.

Len knew this because after noticing the young man several weeks in a row, he began tracking him, using his ability to hone in on the spirit’s aura and spiritual signature.

This spirit was odd as far as spirits go. Spirits typically don’t stay in one area for long, especially when newly deceased. They also tend to form groups and cause some chaos or unease wherever they are. Not to mention, Central isn’t the usual kind of place that those in the spirit realm enjoy frequenting. There aren’t many old houses or spooky graveyards.

This spirit does not interact with other spirits, nor does he participate in any of the usual hauntings. He’s handsome, with perfect windswept hair and piercing eyes, clearly young, and, from his aura, Len can tell that he is in a perpetual state of melancholy. Len supposes that the kid hasn’t even tried to communicate with the other spirits in Central.

It makes Len want to help, even though he tries to ignore his abilities more often than not.

“Len,” called Lisa, disrupting his reverie. “You thinking about the cute spirit again?”

Len gave her an exasperated look. He did not want to go over this again.

“I know you are,” she said. “You should really just talk to him, Len. It seems like he could use some help with his transition to the other side.”

“Then why don’t you do it?” Len asked. “You’re more into the medium stuff than I am anyway.”

“You’re the one who’s spending the majority of your time tracking his spiritual signature around the city and going crazy thinking about him,” Lisa replied.

“I am not,” Len said.

“Mm-hm,” Lisa replied with a disapproving stare. “He’s downstairs at the apartment right now. Just go talk to him.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Len asked. “Just walk downstairs, knock on the door, say ‘Hi, there’s a spirit in your house and is like to talk with him.’ That’ll go over like a lead baloon. And then what happens if they let me in, which wouldn’t happen, and he just decided not to talk back. No signs no nothing. Then I look like even more insane. Not happening.”

“Just call him up here then,” she suggested.

“Hmph.” Len crossed his arms and adjusted himself on the couch, slouching and looking more petulant than ever.

“I’ll just do it for you then, but you have to talk to him once he comes, and I’m sure he will.”

Lisa immediately began calling to the spirit, before Len had a chance to protest. She closed her eyes and embraced the slight cold feeling that noted the presence of the spirit realm. Without making a sound in the physical realm, she called out in the spirit realm, using what she thought might compel the spirit, for she had been watching him too. His actions were concerning, and when her brother took an interest it was even more reason to pay attention to him. She appealed to the spirit’s humanity, his loneliness. She mentioned that she and her brother were mediums still deeply rooted in the human realm, and within minutes the young spirit was in her living room.

He was uneasy. He fidgeted and his ever never stayed looking in one place for too long. He was here, though, and that was the aim apparently.

“It’s alright,” Lisa assured. “You’re safe.”

The spirit glanced at Lisa, but her words didn’t seem to calm him.

“You’re okay,” she said. “We’re here to help you.”

Another glance, but still no other response. Lisa looked at Len pointedly.

Len sighed before he spoke. “Look kid, you’re behaving very strangely for someone recently crossed over, and we just want to help if we can. It’s not our usual M. O., but we’ve taken an interest in you, so you can take our help, or leave it.”

The kid’s eyes landed and locked on Len. There was a moment of silence before he spoke.

“You both can actually see me?” He asked, looking between Lisa and Len.

“That we can,” replied Len.

“We’re mediums,” Lisa explained, answering the next question before it could leave the spirit’s mouth. “We’ve been able to see your kind since we were young. I’ve even gone so far as to walk in the spirit realm.”

“Then you can help me,” the spirit said on an excited rush. “You can help me to contact my family and friends.”

Len loved the way the spirit’s melancholy disposition completely turned around. He seemed so lively and hopeful. His grin could light up a thousan cities. Len hated to be the one to take that hope away from him.

“Hold on there kid,” Len said. “That’s a dangerous game, for many reasons. One, people don’t tend to believe in such a thing as the spirit realm these days. Did you believe before you crossed over?”

The spirit shook his head. He already looked dejected again.

“That leads me to believe that your friends and family wouldn’t either,” Len said. “Two, due to the lack of belief, mediums are seen as hoaxes and vultures who prey on those who are grieving. Three, our lifestyle choices do not make us well received in common society. Can you guess what we do?” Len gestured around the nearly empty apartment, which clearly looked like a typical safe house would in a TV show or movie.

The kid grimaced. “I know who you are,” he said. “I worked for the CCPD when I was alive.”

Len he held the kid’s gaze with a straight stare. Of course. The one spirit who happened to catch his eye would have to be a badge.

“Then why do you want us to help you?” Len asked.

The spirit curled in on himself under Len’s gaze. He turned to Lisa.

“I just wanted to talk with them again, and tell them I’m not leaving them” he said quietly.

“Why don’t you want to leave them, sweetheart?” Lisa asked gently.

“I just can’t leave them,” he said. “They made my life bearable, and I’d hate to lose them because I’m the one who left.”

“I hate to break it to you kid, but you’re already gone,” Len commented. “You’re in the afterlife already. You’re friends and family will have to get along without you, and you’ll have to get along without them.”

If a spirit could cry, this one would be crying right now with how forlorn he looks. Lisa glared at Len again.

“But you’ll see them again, "she assured. "They’ll come to the spirit realm eventually, and you can search for them there. It may take you a while to find them, but I know that families have reconnected on your plane of existence. You can also make new friends in the spirit realm. You may have to travel a bit to do it, but it can happen.”

“Thats not much help,” the the spirit said after a moment. “Hopefully it will be year before any of my family or friends end up here, and I won’t know when they do. I’ve never been good at making new friends, and Central is my home. I’ve never wanted to leave it.”

Len rolled his eyes. This was getting ridiculous.

“You’re just impossible.” Len said. “Here we are trying to reassure you and give you solutions, but you shoot all of them down. It’s like you’re actively trying to make yourself miserable.”

The spirit frowned.

Lisa cast a cautious glance at her brother. She knew he would hate her idea, but she thought it might be good for him.

“Well, if you’re so intent on staying in Central,” she said, “then we could be your friends.”

If looks could kill, Lisa would be dead by the one her brother gave her, but if looks could resurrect, Lisa would be alive again based on the one from the spirit. “Really?” the spirit asked excitedly. “I don’t want to be lonely, but you’re the only people, alive otherwise who have shown any interest in talking to me.”

“A cutie like you?” Lisa asked, “How could anyone ignore someone as cute and handsome as you?”

Len swore that the spirit blush, which he didn’t even think was possible until that moment.

“Yeah kid, we’ll keep you,” Len said.

He may hate Lisa for suggesting it, but the kid could definitely use a friend, and maybe they could get him to do some haunting or gather intel for heists, but that was a definite maybe due to that CCPD background.

The spirit looked excited and hopeful. The grin on his face definitely made the decision worth it in Len’s mind. He knew that he would do whatever he could to make sure that smile stayed on the young spirit’s face.

“But,” Len said raising a finger to make it seem like there was a big condition on yhe arrangement, “we’ll need your name.”

“It’s Barry,” the spirit said quickly, “short for Bartholomew.”

Lisa jumped in to introduce herself. “Lisa, although you already know that.”

“Hello Barry, Len said, "You can call me Len.”

#coldflash #coldflashweek2017b #barry allen/leonard snart #paranormal au #ghost!au

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robininthelabyrinth · 6 years ago

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Fic: Gift-Giving - ao3 link

Fandom: Flash, DC's Legends of Tomorrow Pairing: Barry Allen/Iris West/Leonard Snart; Barry Allen/Iris West; Barry Allen/Leonard Snart; Leonard Snart/Iris West

Summary: Leonard Snart shows up for Christmas to gift Iris and Barry with a warning.

Then he shows up again. And again. And again - and each time he brings a gift.

(And then, just when they decide to do something about it, things get complicated.)

A/N: For @sproutwings for the @dccwrarepairswap

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For Sandrine Shaw, who requested Iris/Len/Barry for the DC Rare Pair Swap

It starts, Iris is pretty sure, with Christmas.

Honestly, it probably started a hell of a lot earlier than that given the intense looks being thrown around that evening - thanks for not mentioning your ongoing flirtation with a supervillain earlier, Barry - but that's certainly when she first found out about it.

So, Christmas.

Snart breaks into their home (apparently to give them a warning, of all things), but his eyes are fixed on Barry from the start and suddenly Barry's pushing Snart up against the wall (is it wrong that she thinks that's hot? because it is super hot) and there's even more intense looks - you know what, she's just going to call it eye-fucking, because it is totally eye-fucking - and that's about when Iris decides to insert herself into the conversation and Snart's attention turns to her.

Which, hoo boy.

Somehow she didn't notice it until she had his full attention on her, but that man is fine.

They say some stuff - Iris honestly can't recall what, except she distinctly remembers she put her foot in her mouth at some point, but luckily Snart just looked amused - and next thing you know Snart's walking out of their lives.

"Okay," Barry says, running his hand through his hair. "We've got to warn -"

"It's not going to happen immediately, right?" Iris asks intently.

Barry blinks at her. "Uh, no. Not till tonight, but -"

"There's nothing we can do until we find them, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"So theoretically you could just text Cisco and get him started on looking and go over in, hmm, thirty minutes or so, right?"

"Uh," Barry says. "Yeah, I could. But -"

"Good," Iris growls, and yanks him into the bedroom.

(It's mean of her, she knows it, they're not even officially together at that point but she and Barry have been hooking up here and there on the downlow since forever and damnit that was hot.)

"Okay," Barry says breathlessly when they're done. "It's good to know you think he's unbearably attractive, too."

"Oh yeah," Iris says. "Emphasis on unbearable." She sighs. "Too bad."

"I know, right?" Barry says wistfully.

Iris pats him on the shoulder. "You just keep up whatever you're doing and he'll be a good guy in no time. He warned us about this time, didn't he? And refused to join in with the bad guy plan?"

Barry looks cheered by that thought.

Of course, then he has to run to fight Weather Wizard and Trickster but yeah, whatever.

It's not like Snart's going to be anything more than the occasional extra zing to get them revved up.

In fact, Iris bets that they won't see him again for months.

It's a good thing no one is there when she thinks that, because she turns out to be epically wrong.

"Uh, Barry's not here right now," Iris says to Snart, who is typing away at her computer.

"I know," Snart says. "Off fighting - whatever it is this week, I take it?"

Iris opens her mouth to correct him, realizes she doesn't know what it is Barry's up to right now, and ends up shrugging.

"You ought to make a chart or something," Snart advises. "Keep track of 'em. There's got to be some repeats eventually, yeah?"

"There's only repeats when we don't beat them the first time," Iris says. She's bantering with him. Why is she bantering with him?

"Or when they break out of prison," Snart reminds her.

"Speaking of which," Iris says, "are you here to deliver another warning or something? Because I can give the message to Barry if you like."

And then he can leave.

Snart clicks his tongue instead. "For shame, Miss West," he says. "You can do much better than being Barry Allen's answering machine secretary - a charming image as that is."

"Snart," Iris says flatly. "If you don't have a good reason to be here, go away."

He turns away from the computer at last and flashes her a smirk that would totally give her shivers if she didn't know better, damnit body, stop shivering.

(She does know better, it's just that her body disagrees.)

He gets up. "I'll leave you be, then," he says. "Since my presence is so unwelcome."

He does make a point of brushing by Iris as he walks to the door, the slightest hint of strong shoulder and lean waist and clearly that's what confuses her enough to say, "I didn't say that..."

It earns her another smirk.

"Snart," Iris says, recovering herself just before he leaves. "Why did you come here?"

"Oh, you know," he says. "Just wanted to borrow your internet."

And then he's gone.

Jackass.

(But oh, such an unfairly pretty jackass.)

Obviously, Iris immediately goes to check the computer, where he hasn't even bothered to close the Internet tabs he was using. She'll check for all sorts of spyware and -

Huh.

Is that -?

Wait. That means the Fire Commissioner is -

With the Darbiniyans?!

Holy crap, if Iris can verify this, this is going to be the biggest story since the Flash. And better than that, it doesn't involve the Flash - that'll show her stupid editor that she can do more than just, quote, blog about him like some lovestruck fangirl, end quote -

She settles down in front of the computer and begins to work.

It doesn't actually occur to her until much later that maybe Leonard "your writing has a strong point of view" Snart left this for her as a gift.

"This is amazing, Barry," Iris gushes. "Oh my god, everything is so good."

"I know, right?" Barry says, slurping down some more noodles. "I'd just about given up hope of finding a decent Thai place ever since Siam Palace closed."

"I had given up," Iris says. "Where'd you hear of this one? I must've walked right by it a dozen times and never noticed it, it's such a hole in the wall."

She's expecting agreement, but what she gets is an awkward silence.

"Barry?"

"Uh," he says. "It's kinda an awkward story."

Iris' eyebrows go up. "Then I definitely want to hear it."

"Okay," Barry says. "So. Um. Snart broke into the house."

"I know," Iris says, a little confused. "I was there both times."

"Well," Barry says shiftily. "Let's say maybe it was more than two times..."

"Barry!" It isn't, necessarily, a disapproving exclamation; but really she'd like to be kept informed of these things.

"Just, like, twice more!" Barry protests. "The first time he just had some more information for me, that's all."

"And the second?"

"The second time, he was sitting at the dining room table chowing down some takeout Thai," Barry says. "I asked him why he was there, he wouldn't give me a straight answer -"

Several minutes of flirtatious banter, Iris translates.

"And then he just - left. Without explaining." Barry shrugs. "It was weird. But, well, he did leave the Thai food behind, and I'd just been out for a run, and it turned out to be amazing and there was a menu in the bag, so..."

Iris tries to hide a smirk. Of course.

"What?" Barry asks, suspicious.

"Has it ever occurred to you that that might have been his excessively convoluted way of tipping you off about the Thai place?" Iris asks.

It seems obvious to her, but Barry looks dumbstruck at the idea.

"But why would he do that?" Barry asks.

"I don't know," Iris says. "Why keep tipping you off about bad guys? Why leave me the lead for the story that's going to make my career? I don't know. Maybe he wants to be friends."

She thinks about how Snart looks at Barry.

She thinks about how Snart looks at her.

"...possibly more," she allows.

"More?" Barry asks. "But -" He flushes. "I mean. I'm taken. Wait. I am taken, right?"

"We're definitely dating," Iris confirms, hiding a smile. "But I don't think he's just interested in you."

"But...oh. Oh. Do you really think..?"

Iris shrugs. "No idea," she says. "It's just a shot in the dark."

"But, if he is..." Barry starts, then trails off.

"If he is?"

"I mean. What's our response? We're both taken, right? So we've got to let him down gently." Barry looks a bit disappointed at the thought. More than a bit. He looks positively wistful, and Iris knows perfectly well that it isn't because he'd rather be dating Snart than her. There's no one alive that Barry would rather be dating but her; that's one of the staples of her life. "Anyway, seems kind of weird to me. Why would anyone hit on a pair of people he knows are dating each other, anyway?"

"Barry," Iris says, putting her box of take-out aside. She's going to want to have her full attention on this conversation - one she's been meaning to have for a while, but couldn't quite figure out how to broach. She didn't want Barry to feel like he isn't enough for her or anything, after all. This, however, is as perfect a lead-up as she could've possibly hoped for.

Another gift from Snart, if he's smart enough to have figured this out.

He probably is.

"We need to talk," she adds.

"Yeah?" he asks, looking concerned. Those were the four scariest words in the English language to Barry, who preferred to avoid honest and open communication whenever possible. They'd have to work on that. "What about?"

"Nothing bad," Iris assures him. "Tell me, have you ever heard of polyamory...?"

Of course, right after they have that extremely promising conversation, they get word from Felicity that Snart and Rory have left Central City to go save the world via a time-traveling spaceship or something - she wasn't entirely sure, since she was working entirely off of a series of over-excited texts and photos from Ray Palmer, but that seemed like the gist of it.

"Great," Iris says. "You overshot it."

"When I said there was good in him, I meant I wanted to be the good in him," Barry whines. "Not that he should go save the world!"

"Not that you mind."

"No, not really. I'm really happy for him, actually, you know? He's finally realized he can be more than just a villain."

Iris smiles and shakes her head. "I wouldn't worry," she says. "He'll be back."

"How are you so sure?"

"Remember what my dad said about him? He comes by every few months and hits something in Central? And you yourself told me he refused point-blank to leave Central. This is his city, Barry. He'd sooner die than leave it for good."

They both leave that conversation reassured, but Iris has cause to regret her words soon enough.

"He's dead," Barry says dully, his head in her lap. "He sacrificed himself to save the world. Rory was - in pieces. I dunno. It was bad."

"I can't believe it," Iris says. She feels numb. Snart, so full of life and smirks and opportunity - dead?

Surely not.

And yet, it seems like it's true.

Iris goes out and catches Rory before he goes back with the Legends.

"I'm sorry," she blurts out.

He pauses and stares at her.

"About Snart," she says.

"He did a stupid thing," Rory says. His voice is gruff and his eyes are distant. His hands tremor. "His choice, I guess."

"So what if it was? It still sucks balls," Iris says.

Her crudeness makes it through where her sympathy didn't, earning a bark of surprise from him.

"Well, lookit you," he says, the corners of his mouth turning up, just a bit. "Got some spirit in you after all. Guess Snart really was onto something when he set out to land you and your boy."

Iris freezes. She'd hoped, of course, and Barry had as well, but... "He really was interested?"

Rory nods. "Definitely," he says. "Half the reason he signed up for this whole pile of crap."

Iris frowns at him, noticing how he still looked terrible: bags under his eyes, skinnier, smelling of beer even so early in the morning.

"If you're not doing well on the Legends, you can always come to us," she tells him. "Team Flash would be more than happy to have you."

Rory looks surprised again. "Thanks," he finally says. "I'll keep that in mind."

And then he goes.

She goes home - Barry's in the office, finishing all the work he put aside for the alien thing - and, in a fit of nostalgia, orders Thai.

She's halfway through her favorite curry when someone says, "Damn, I love that place."

Iris jumps halfway out of her skin and twists to look at -

Snart.

Snart?!

"What are you doing here?!" she yelps.

He shrugs. "Never could resist good Thai." A smirk. "Particularly good Thai and a beautiful woman."

Iris shakes her head to clear it. "Stop flirting for literally one minute, will you? I thought you were dead. They said you died destroying that Oculus thing - Rory thinks you're dead! He's mourning you!"

Snart scowls. "Yeah, I know. Can't seem to get a hold of him to tell him to knock it off."

Iris mouths the words 'knock it off' to herself in utter disbelief.

"It was a nice thing you did for him, though, inviting him here," Snart adds. "You should get him to follow through on that. Then maybe I could talk to him..."

"Is there any reason you haven't talked to him already?" Iris demands. "He deserves to know!"

"Know what?"

"That you're not dead and gone, maybe?!"

Snart smirks. "Sorry to be the one to tell you, Miss West," he drawls. "But you're only half right there."

Iris is trying to figure out what he means when he reaches forward, aiming for the box of rice, and his hand goes right through it.

Iris stares.

"I am dead," Snart says. "Just - not quite gone."

It turns out that Snart has issues being seen by people affected by temporal radiation, which means all the Legends.

And, most annoyingly, Barry.

She says 'most annoyingly' because Barry is an extremely bad liar about it.

"So Snart is a ghost, but I can't see him. I think I get it," Barry says, fixed smile on his face. "That's - interesting."

"He doesn't believe you," Snart observes, hovering over Barry's shoulder.

"No shit," Iris says.

"Are you talking with the - yes, yes, of course you are," Barry says, shaking his head. "You're talking to the 'ghost'."

"Ouch," Snart says. "I could hear the quotation marks on that one. Be careful of any invitations to STAR Labs; they're not very good with respecting autonomy there."

Iris resists the urge to flip Snart off. Or the clearly disbelieving Barry, who obviously thinks she hasn't noticed him furiously whispering on the phone with Caitlin about metas capable of causing hallucinations or psychosis - she is not being affected by the Rainbow Raider, for fuck's sake. His powers don't even work that way!

"We could play the 'put a number behind your back' game," Snart offers, clearly vastly amused by this. She'd hold it against him if he wasn't so damn attractive when he was being a condescending asshole.

...does Iris have a type? Even Eddie ended up lying to her face and ignoring her ability to make her own decisions by the end of it.

Iris might have a type.

Damnit.

"Never mind, Barry," she says. "Just - forget about it."

She'll just deal with this Snart ghost thing herself.

Of course, Barry doesn't forget about it just like that, but the next meta situation ends up cropping up its ugly head and Barry gets distracted.

Snart is, too, at first, but then he hears about the type of meta powers involved and promptly loses his interest.

That, or else he's just decided it's more fun to drive Iris insane by hovering behind her and commenting on her latest article.

The worst part is, she's having a great time arguing with him about it, too. It'd be one thing he if he was bugging her about stupid nits like grammar or spelling (that's what first drafts and proof-readers are /for, damnit Barry), but it's not.

He's smart and articulate; he asks good, sharp, pointed questions about the content and approach and structure; he seems really interested in the murky underpinnings necessary to make a great article rather than an acceptable one, he actually cares about Central City politics in a way Barry never has...

It takes her about a week of sneaking around Barry to write her articles before she has the horrifying realization that she might be having a bit of an emotional affair with a ghost.

She also makes the mistake of having that realization out loud.

Snart laughs so hard she'd be worried about him dying if he wasn't already dead.

"Shut up," she grumbles, but doesn't really mean it. She never got to see Snart laugh in life.

"No," Snart says, wiping his eyes despite the fact that they're still dry. Some symptom of death, maybe? "No, it's good. I'm glad to know that I would've scored eventually. At least with you, anyway."

Iris hesitates. They'd never discussed...

"Were you?" she asks.

"Was I what?"

"Hitting on both of us?"

"Oh, definitely. In equal measure," Snart agrees. "Barry was first, of course, but then I started reading your body of work -"

He would be attracted to someone because of that. Snart's no intellectual, but damn if the man didn't appreciate narrative.

"- and, well, I had to meet you. And what happens? Turns out your body of work ain't the only fascinating body you've got."

"Oooh, good one. That one was smooth."

"Wasn't it?" Snart says, looking pleased.

Iris hides a laugh. "Tell me, what was it about Barry that attracted you first?"

"Barry? Why?"

"Just wondering." She has a hunch.

Snart frowns at her. "Well, his ass looks great in that suit?"

"I mean, I agree," Iris says. "Ten out of ten. But I'd be willing to put money down that you noticed that after he started punning back at you."

"I do like wordplay," Snart allows.

"Somehow I noticed, what with all the cold jokes."

"A good pun's as good as cold."

"You mean good as gold - oh. Shut up."

"Make me," Snart taunts.

Oh, he's getting comfortable, is he?

Snart might be familiar with Iris West's wit via her work, but he hasn't met the irrepressibly competitive half of her, winner of the West Family (plus Barry) prank competition for twelve unbroken years.

"If you were alive," Iris says sweetly, "I would probably jump you now."

Snart chokes.

"There," she says. "Shut you up, didn't I?"

Snart blinks owlishly at her, then grins. "Good one."

"Oh, no, I was serious," she says, making him stare at her. "Sorry, am I moving too fast for you?"

Snart is laughing again.

"Don't worry," he says. "I'm sure I can put a freeze on things."

"I know you're fond of cold puns, but there is some benefit to letting things get more heated."

"Really? That's news to me."

Now Iris is laughing, too. "Well, lucky me," she manages to say with almost a straight face. Almost. "I'm very good at covering the news..."

Nope, that's it, she's lost it.

"Yeah," Snart drawls. "I've noticed how good you are at covering the Flash - very impressive length and breadth of coverage there -"

Iris is howling with laughter, even as the thought of a ghostly Snart watching her and Barry (not that they've had time to do anything this past week) starts a nice warm glow in her belly.

"But what do I know, anyway? I'm not a professional news spooks-man."

Nope, back to pure laughter.

"Snart," Iris manages to get out. "That last joke was positively vile. Juven-vile, even."

"Oh, I like that one!" Snart exclaims. "That one's new."

"Not 'news'?"

"Miss West, I'll have you know that I never recycle a joke," Snart starts, and Iris knows where this is going. "After all, that would be -"

"Old news," they both chorus.

And after that neither of them can talk for laughing for a good long while.

"Uh, Iris?"

"Yeah, Bar?" Iris says, a little distracted. Snart was disappearing more often to go wander through "his" city - his words - and every once in a while he brings back fascinating little tidbits that she fully intends to use to conquer the CCPN newsroom.

Just a blogger, her ass.

"I, uh - I think I need to apologize."

That gets Iris' attention.

She spins her chair away from her home office set up to look at Barry, who's hovering in the doorway and looking very abashed.

"Apologize for what?" she asks, automatically searching her memory for anything that might be - different. Not that she'd notice, of course, if she'd been affected by the timeline change... "What happened, and can we fix it?"

"I love that that's your first question," Barry says wryly. "But no, everything's fine. I was just a judgy dick and I didn't believe you when, uh, there's been some reason to think I should have."

"You should always listen to me," Iris says automatically.

"Even when you demand a fourth helping of dumplings?"

"Especially then. I'll regret it later like a big girl. What didn't you believe me about?"

"The, uh...ghost. Snart's ghost."

Iris straightens up. "You saw him?"

"He pushed me out of the way of an anti-meta beam that the army base around town developed," Barry says.

"He pushed...?"

"I was running," Barry clarifies. "Speed Force at full blast, and suddenly there he was."

Weird, but Iris will take it. "And he managed to push you? While you were going that fast?"

"...he'd stuck his foot out and I was so shocked at seeing him that I tripped over it. But the end result was that I went right under the anti-meta beam, so it was obviously part of his plan! He's sneaky like that."

Iris thinks about Snart as she's gotten to know him these last few weeks. "Yeah, fair," she says. "He really is."

"Is he here right now?"

"No, out and about," Iris says. "Checking up on, quote, 'things'."

"Things? Really?"

"Apparently, I'm to learn to love the definition of 'plausible deniability'," Iris says dryly. "How someone incorporeal and invisible to the vast majority of the population can cause as much trouble as he's always implying he is, I don't even know, but I'm not putting anything past him, dead or not."

"Probably a good idea," Barry says, and he's starting to smile now. "So he's - he's really back? He's here? Not now, but - most of the time?"

"Yeah," Iris says, grinning helplessly. Barry's joy is always so infectious. "Yeah, he's back. Maybe not the way we'd like, but - ghost is better than nothing, right?"

"Yeah, definitely!" Barry looks wistful. "Wish I could talk to him."

"I'll get us an Ouija board," Iris says. "Not that it'll help, him being incorporeal and unable to touch things and all..."

"Even if he wasn't, using Scrabble letters is more effective," Barry objects. "Or fridge magnets."

"Barry Allen, tell me you're not still scared of Ouija board after all these years!"

"It was scary!"

"It was a bunch of guys in sheets sneaking around!"

"Hey, I was ten!"

"Yeah, exactly! It was fifteen years ago!"

"I have trauma," Barry sniffs, but he's still grinning. "Lots of trauma." His grin widens. "Maybe I need some TLC to help me get over it."

Iris snorts. Oh, Barry. "Yeah, speaking of which," she says, suddenly grinning herself. "What do you say to asking Snart if he'd like to spectate a bit of that TLC?"

Barry opens his mouth.

Then his brain finishes processing what she said and he freezes.

Fastest man alive, yeah. Including in the ability for his blood to rush south, Iris bets.

"Just think about it," she says. "You can't see him, but you know he's watching. Watching me take you apart, piece by piece - making comments and suggestions that only I can hear - and you can only imagine..."

Judging by the look on Barry's face, he approves of that plan. A lot.

(Once he gets over the need to make puns about a spectating specter, Snart approves, too.)

Iris spends a surprising amount of her time writing letters now.

Well, emails, not letters, but the concept is the same. Snart has a lot of things he wants to say to a lot of people, and apparently most people aren't the perfect level of time radiation (indirect exposure from being with Barry) that she is, and that means email.

Most of the emails are to Rory and Lisa Snart, so heavily couched in in-jokes that it's practically some sort of code that they're practically unreadable - Rory made a deliberate detour to visit after the third one, his eyes alight with desperate hope that Iris manages to satisfy by translating Snart directly, complete with attempts to replicate his ridiculous body language, while Lisa sticks to increasingly angry emails about what the fuck "Lenny" was thinking when he went on the Legends trip to begin with - but some of them are to...other people. About other things.

"Snart, tell me true," Iris says. "You'd let me know if I was running a crime empire for you, right?"

"Tell SS that he'll thank me for the extra room down the line," Snart instructs instead of answering. "Say, hmm, say RD and LS would be too explosive."

"Snart..."

"Oh, and tell HR that his idea is stupid, but if he wants to spend a year in Iron Heights, he's welcome to go it solo."

"Snart!"

"You really would be happier with the plausible deniability."

"I would not. I'm a journalist, I like knowing things. Tell me!"

"It's not a crime empire," Snart says soothingly. "Just a small - side project."

"Side project. Snart, in case you've forgotten, you're dead."

"Dead but not forgotten," Snart says cheerfully, but she can see the wistfulness in his eyes. "A man's got to have a legacy, even if I can't personally participate in it."

"Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not," Snart admits. "Say, if you had to pick a supervillain name, what would it be?"

"I don't think I trust that segue."

"That's because you're smart. Well?"

Iris rolls her eyes. "It depends on what type of supervillain I am, obviously. Do I have a power set? A theme weapon?"

"Think more 'organizer of other supervillains'," Snart says.

"That's what I was worried about," Iris mutters. Snart might've had a point regarding being happier with plausible deniability. "Why are you setting up supervillains, anyway? Aren't you dating Barry now?"

"Of course," Snart says. "But that's why I'm doing it."

Iris looks at him.

Snart looks - unusually serious, actually. "One thing I know about criminals, and we can all agree that I'm something of an expert there, is that they both love and hate structure. They can't fit into society's structure or else they'll be legal thieves -"

"Legal thieves?"

"Government, police, corporations, lawyers, insurance companies..."

"...fair. Go on."

"Being left out of - or not feeling like you fit in to - society is what drives people to crime, most of the time," Snart explains. "Whether they know it or not. But that means most of 'em want to fit in somewhere. That's why you've got the Families, gangs, criminal-focused bars -"

"You worked solo."

"I worked with Mick," Snart corrects. "We made our own society, the two of us."

"Codependent," Iris coughs into her palm.

Snart rolls his eyes at her. "We convinced Mick not to move in with you, didn't we?"

"Only because you're incorporeal."

"Well, that doesn't seem like to change, does it? And if it does, you'd be better off having him around anyway; he's a great chef."

"We are not - hm. Great chef?"

"Amazing."

"I'll...keep that in mind. Anyway, we're getting off track. What's all this - fascinating pseudo-psychological analysis as it is - have to do with starting a supervillain squad?"

"It's got to do with it because having a squad means people will want to join it," Snart says. "Before they do anything really big. And if you're running the squad, then..."

"Then I can either work with it to make it less dangerous, or, even if I just refuse to be involved, I have advance notice of it," Iris says, getting it. "Giving Barry a head start."

"Exactly," Snart says.

"Snart, has anyone told you that you're dangerously good at gift-giving?"

Snart grins at her. "You haven't even put together the fact that being a player in the Central City underworld, even indirectly, will get you access to all the stories your black little heart desires - and all the excitement you could possibly want in chasing them."

Not to mention the respect that is in somewhat short supply at CCPN...

Damn, but Snart is good at gifts.

"Okay, fine, fine," Iris says. "I'm in already. What's the next step?"

"The next step, I think, is for you to meet one of Central City's finest fences. She's trying to start up her own metahuman-related organization - mostly smuggling, not theft, because we all fall back on what we're best at when we try something new - so we either get on her good side and become allies or we don't and become rivals, but either way it'll be good to know what we are on the ground floor."

Iris feels a frisson of excitement run up her spine. What can she say, she loves the adrenaline of going after something dangerous.

"What's her name?" Iris asks.

Snart smirks and runs an invisible hand over Iris' hair, fondness in every line of him. She wishes she could feel it the way Barry sometimes can when he's using the Speed Force.

"Amunet," he says. "Her name is Amunet. The Blacksmith."

"Oh, damn," Iris says. "That's a good one."

"- so now we're going after fairy tale monsters, I guess?" Rory concludes his story with a sigh.

"At least you got to go to Aruba for a bit?" Snart says sympathetically, which Iris repeats.

"Yeah, with a pile of gatecrashers."

He pours himself some more hot cocoa, an action which causes both Iris and Barry to immediately extend their own mugs. Rory makes amazing hot cocoa. With mini-marshmallows, of course - Snart insists, even if he can't drink any (an absolute crime), and honestly, he's right.

"Well, that sounds - incredibly ominous," Barry decides.

"No kidding," Snart says.

Rory shrugs and makes a face in agreement. They've brokered a deal where he takes the jump ship to visit them in Central every other weekend unless there's a crisis, and he's looking a lot better. Though that might be due to the fact that he also visits his shrink while he's visiting them - he and Snart had had a nasty fight about it, proxied by a very unfortunate Iris, but she can't complain that much, given the clearly beneficial results.

"Enough about me," he says. "How's it going on your end? Anything new with the Flash? What about the Rogues?"

"You really ought to come back and take your place in the Rogues," Snart says.

Iris repeats it.

"I will, I will. It's my retirement plan."

"I'm surrounded by supervillains," Barry says with a grin. "Help, help. Do you know that Iris finally has a name?"

"Oh yeah? Mazel tov. What is it?"

"It's not that big a deal -" Iris demurs.

"Yes, it is," Barry and Snart say at the same time.

Barry loops an arm over her shoulder. "Iris West," he announces grandly. "Otherwise known as: The Weaver."

Rory blinks. "The...Weaver? As in - making clothing?"

Iris snorts. "As in making stories, Rory. Clotho, spinner and weaver of fate."

"Huh. I like that," he says, but he's still frowning.

"What's bugging you?" Snart asks, and Iris conveys.

"It's just - the fugitive fairytales we're dealing with? They're attracted to, uh, you know, appropriate-sounding things and places and people and stuff."

"So? It's not like I'm the real Clotho," Iris points out.

"Yeah," Mick says, and his expression has gone grim. "But they don't know that."

Barry's in costume, suddenly, a spark of lightning, and even Snart is turning and Iris suddenly has this feeling in the back of her neck, like there's something behind her - something dark and powerful and grasping and reaching for her -

"You touch her over my dead body," Snart snarls.

The feeling of dread snaps, its power broken, though Iris isn't dumb enough to turn around.

Seriously, though. Is there any time that Snart wouldn't pun?

"C'mon, babe," Iris pleads. "We need you to wake up. We need you to come back to us. I'd even settled for one of your dumb puns right now. Come on."

"And soon," Barry adds, his eyes worriedly flicking to the clock. "We're on a time limit here."

"I still can't believe he's back," Ror- Mick says blankly. His fingers are intertwined with Len's, and his knuckles are white from how tightly he's holding him.

It's a bit weird for Iris, adjusting from calling them Snart and Rory to Len and Mick, but after she used her brief spin (thanks, Len) as Clotho, a spider-hybrid capable of manipulating timelines if she immersed herself in them, to win a single chance for them to bring Len back using Mick's timeline, she can't think of them as anything else. That's how Mick thinks of them, and she was eight-knees-deep in his timeline and in his brain for quite a while, guiding Barry through the timeline to change the necessary things to give them a chance to save Len.

(And thanks to that, she knows how much Mick gave when he agreed to let her in, despite all his fears.)

She's not a spider anymore, thank god, but that does mean the effects of her power only lasts until the next sunrise - and with it, their only chance of retrieving Len from where he was trapped by the Oculus in the in-between betwixt life and death.

All he needs to do is consent to another chance at life.

But he won't wake up long enough to do it.

“Not yet he’s not,” Iris says grimly, before turning back to Snart. “C'mon, Sleeping Beauty," she urges. "We need you to wake up. That'd be the best possible gift you could give us. Better than anything else. Please!"

"That's what bugs me, you know," Barry says.

Iris turns to look at him.

"Uh, no offense meant, Iris."

"A spider isn't a bug, Barry," Iris says. "I more meant, what's bugging you?"

"I mean, this all started because of the whole fairy tale curse thing, right? That's what we've all been dealing with - mostly Mick and the Legends, but all of us. Right?"

Barry didn't seem to have any trouble making the Rory-Mick switch, Iris notes. Guess it's just her.

"Yeah?" Mick asks. "What about it?"

"I mean, he's asleep-like-death. That's pretty classic fairytale stuff right there - Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, that sort of thing - but we've tried the traditional kiss-to-wake-up thing, and it didn't work!"

They'd all tried: Barry, Iris, even - at their urging and despite protests of a purely platonic sort of love being involved - Mick.

But Len still slept.

"I mean, we even tried giving him a Heimlich in case he had, you know, an apple piece in his throat, but - nothing! I just don't know what fairytale we're in, if it isn't one of those."

"I think we are," Mick says. "In one of those, I mean."

Iris and Barry blink at him.

"After you made me kiss 'im," Mick explains. "Gave me an idea."

"Oh? What idea -"

The door - which Iris is 90% sure she locked - swings open.

"Lemme at the contrary jerk," the woman standing there, resplendent in black leather and gold chain, says, her hands on her hips.

"Hey, Lisa," Mick says.

Lisa? As in, Lisa from Gotham?

"Snar- I mean Len's sister?" Barry asks. "You think she can do it?"

Hah! Barry has issues with it, too!

...not the focus right now.

"Well, you said platonic love might count," Mick points out. "And there ain't nobody Snart loves more than his baby sister. So I texted her to come over, stat."

"You're a pretty close second and you know it, Mickey," Lisa says. "But I come first."

She sounds so confident.

Iris can't help but hope that it really will work. She and Barry, they never really got a chance to see if love would bloom between them and Len; that’s why they thought it might work better with Mick, who Len has known since forever. But now that Iris thinks about it, from all the stories she’s heard about Lisa, from all the emails she's written, from the way Len’s face softened with amusement when he heard her (often profanity-laced) responses…

This might be it.

"Please let this work," she whispers as Lisa strides forward and kisses her brother on the cheek just as the moon sets, only an hour or so before the dawn.

For a long moment, there is nothing, and Iris' heart begins to break.

And then Len stirs.

Shivers.

Opens his eyes.

Iris makes a wordless shriek that she is totally going to deny later and throws herself forward to wrap her arms around him.

She feels Barry’s arms go over her shoulders as he also jumps forward to embrace them both.

“Saps,” Lisa sniffs, but she sounds approving.

Len coughs a little, clearing his throat. “If you disapprove of my saps,” he says, his voice hoarse with sleep, “you should make like a tree and leaf.”

Iris groans and bonks her head against Len’s shoulders. “Why do I like you,” she says despairingly.

Barry’s sniggering. She can hear it. He has such bad taste.

(And clearly, given that she’s – hopefully – dating them both, so does she.)

“Enough with the plant puns,” Mick says. “No offense, Lisa –”

“We don’t talk about the plant thing when I’m in Central,” she says sternly.

Iris – doesn’t want to know.

Okay, she really wants to know, but she’s not going to ask.

She’ll ask Len about it later.

“Whatever. Anyway,” Mick says. “Weaver, don’t you need to do whatever it is you need to do?”

“Right,” Iris says. “Len, do you want to stay with us? Here? Alive?”

Len blinks at her. “This some sort of trick question?”

Barry pinches him, causing him to yelp. “Just answer it.”

“Yes,” Len says. “Obviously yes.”

Iris exhales with relief as the last bits of the fairytale power flows of her and Len suddenly – solidifies, is the best was to describe it. He wasn’t not-solid before, but now he’s even more solid, more real, more /here than he was a second ago.

Len blinks, then looks down at himself.

“I’m back,” he says blankly. “It worked.”

“Yeah,” Iris says. “It worked.”

And then she kisses him.

And makes room for Barry to kiss him, too.

The perfect fairytale ending.

“You know, I think I will make like a tree,” Lisa says. “Mick, call me when they’ve stopped; I’m getting something to drink.”

“Are you kidding?” Mick says. “You think I want to be here to see this? I’m coming with you.”

Iris rolls her eyes.

Okay, maybe not a perfect fairytale…

“So let me get this straight,” Joe says. He’s got that furrow between his brows that means that a storm is coming – usually one of his temper tantrums. Iris isn’t afraid: Cecile will kick his ass if he starts yelling or tries to pull his usual silent treatment stunt. “You two have finally fallen in love after all these years.”

“That’s right,” Iris says.

“And you even got a big, beautiful wedding –”

“Interrupted by Nazis,” Barry helpfully interjects.

“Interrupted by Queens,” Iris mutters. Yes, she’s still bitter.

“And, sure, you had to deal with some trouble at first –”

“That time when we thought Barry was gone for good but actually he just disappeared for six months and lost his mind a little?”

Joe is making a face like he doesn’t appreciate Iris’ interruptions.

Well, tough. Iris isn’t exactly appreciating his attempts to rewrite history so it’s all sunshine and roses.

“Either way,” he says through gritted teeth. “You two are still happily married, right?”

“Yes,” Iris says. “We are.”

“Then why the fuck are you dating Snart?!” he explodes.

“Watch your language around Jenna,” Cecile snaps.

“Sorry,” Joe says. “But seriously – Iris, why would you do this to Barry?”

“Uh, no,” Barry says. “I’m also dating Snart here.”

“Wait, you’re the one cheating on Iris?” Joe asks, looking surprised.

Iris is a little bit offended that he was totally willing to believe that she would cheat on Barry but not vise-versa. What the hell, Dad?

“No,” Barry says. “No, we’re both dating him.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Joe says. “And anyway, it doesn’t answer the question of why. Or even when!”

“There was a whole ghost thing,” Iris says breezily. “You missed it, but hey! I hear babies are super distracting, so no worries. Either way, it’s a done deal, so you’re going to shut up and accept it without trying to psychoanalyze our relationship. We like him, we’re dating him, we’re hopefully going to move into falling in love with him more than we already are, and there’s no rational reason we can give you that will convince you it’s a good thing – so we won’t.”

"You know what, fine," Joe snaps. "Forget Snart. Why is Rory living with you?"

"He's a really great chef?" Iris offers helplessly even as Barry shrugs. "And anyway, the guy we're both dating wants him to, so..."

Joe crosses his arms with a scowl. “You still can’t both be dating him.”

“Joe,” Cecile says gently. “Tell me, have you ever heard of polyamory…?”

#coldwestallen #coldwest #westallen #coldflash #leonard snart #iris west #barry allen #my fic

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cubedcoffeecake · 8 years ago

Text

Mirror Mirror

"No. Uh uh. No way. This isn't happening. I refuse to accept that this is actually happening." Jane groaned. "This is not actually happening. This is really, truly not happening."

"Are you done?"

"No."

He sighed heavily, rolled his eyes, and went back to staring at the wall and ignoring her, which was fine with Jane. Being trapped in a large warehouse with Loki and hundreds of random magical objects would have been far better if he spent the entire time ignoring her, and she definitely wasn't ready to leave the comfort of denial.

"This can't actually be happening. Not happening. Not happening. Not happening..."

"You are a more intelligent human than this."

"Am not."

"Are you doing this to me on purpose?"

"I would never willingly get locked in a warehouse with you for an indeterminable amount of time!"

"There. You said it. Now you can stop repeating, 'not happening' over and over."

"...I hate you."

"The feeling is mutual, I assure you. Now, since we are locked up together for an indeterminable amount of time, why don't we try to have a civil conversation?"

"...What?"

"Do you not think me possible of such a feat?"

"You, being civil? No, I don't think you're capable."

"Neither do I. But there is no harm in trying."

"Anything involving you can end in harm."

"Why thank you for such a flattering compliment. Now come: Do have a seat," Loki said, sliding down the wall to a sitting position on the floor. Jane stared at him, seemingly uncomprehending, and he rolled his eyes again with yet another dramatic sigh as he patted the floor next to him. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously and she deliberately walked to the side of the aisle opposite of Loki and sat down, staring at him, still suspicious. And slightly uncomfortable. Definitely uncomfortable. Unlike her, his legs were extended out toward her lazily, and far enough apart for her to be uncomfortable.

"So: I heard you broke up with my not-brother, but no one seemed to know any details," Loki said with a wicked smirk. "Care to share?"

Jane's eyes flashed and her discomfort was forgotten in her anger. "That is none of your business!"

"Oh? I thought Thor and I were still considered ‘brothers’ by you mortals. And really, who deserves to know more than your ex's family?"

At a loss of words (because that actually made sense), Jane quickly—too quickly—suggested, "You know, we're in a top-secret S.H.I.E.L.D. facility surrounded by who-knows-what. Wanna look around?"

Loki raised his eyebrows. From the previous times he had met her, he would have expected Jane Foster of all people to be quite opposed to sneaking around S.H.I.E.L.D., and he said so. "Wouldn't that be frowned upon by your beloved organization?" he asked.

"I have no love for S.H.I.E.L.D. I hate them, actually. If you think that snooping around would piss them off, I'm willing to do it—even if I have to do it with you."

Stunned. He was stunned. "And you were Thor's lover?"

"One of the reasons I broke up with him." Then she cursed as his incredulous look turned to smug glee. She had been dodging this very subject. "Oh, shut it. You going to join me or not?"

He shook his head. "I am merely surprised I had misjudged you so."

"Hormones, Loki. Women never behave sanely around someone like Thor." She cursed him again. "How are you so good at this?"

Smirking, he ignored her second question. "Oh, so good-looking men make you act abnormally?"

She paused. "Well, not necessarily all good-looking men. Just—the ones like Thor. Kindest guy you'll ever meet, big muscles—no, huge muscles," Loki snickered, "golden boy appearance. That kind of good-looking. The kind that makes you feel self-conscious just by him walking in the room." More to herself, she added, "Another reason I broke up with him."

"Because you couldn't compare?"

Glaring, she ordered, "Shut up."

"Truth hurts, doesn't it?"

"I said shut up."

He smirked—again. "Feisty."

"I said—"

"If it makes you feel any better, you're not the only one."

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Don't you dare compare yourself to me. We are nothing alike."

"Oh really?" he asked, deciding he could definitely have some fun with this. "I believe quite the opposite is true. Though you may not be aware, I was one of Asgard's most promising scholars. Most everything I ever did was dismissed, however, because of my reputation with mischief and the fact that most of my work centered around magic, which was considered ludicrous for a man to study and more so to use. I ended up following along in Thor's shadow for millennia, because no one would accept me. Why, given a few thousand more years of persecution and a source of ultimate power, I have little doubt that you, Jane Foster, would not have done exactly what I did."

Jane was shocked into silence. Mostly because, as much as she wanted to deny it... He could be right.

Loki considered her pause to be justification to continue. "It really isn't all that astonishing Thor clung to you, or you to him. I clung to my place as his shadow for a very long time, and he insists still that I am his brother, because of his abounding sentiment. Really, I'm impressed that you managed to leave him. And that he let you. Clearly he values you above me, since he won't seem to give me that right."

Horrified by what sounded like truth in his statements, Jane clung to her one remaining rebuttal. "You're a liar. Why should I believe that you're not just twisting your words?"

Pleased, his smirk broadened. "Because, dear Jane, I never lie when it is concerning Thor. I have no need. The oaf gives me plenty of opportunity to paint him in a poor light without even having to lie or twist my words." After another minute of silence, he finished, "You're a smart woman, Jane Foster. Especially for a mortal. You know I am not lying."

They both remained silent for several minutes after that. Eventually, Jane abruptly stood up, and announced, "I'm gonna go explore and screw with S.H.I.E.L.D. You can come if you want, but I'd prefer you not." And with that, she walked off purposefully down one of the many identical corridors.

He blinked several times, before standing up and following her. Thanks to his long legs, he quickly caught up to her. They continued to walk down a good twenty corridors before he gasped like he'd been struck. Turning around in surprise, Jane froze in shock when she saw him crumpled on the floor, blood running out his mouth and eyes closed.

At first she told herself that it was just an illusion... But when she reached down and touched the small pool of blood building on the floor, the red liquid coated her fingers. She gasped. "Loki? Loki! Loki, wake up!" she exclaimed.

Then, she noticed something. She stood up and waved her hand through it several times... and sure enough, there was a red, electric-y feedback-like barrier that Loki seemed to have hit, while Jane just went through it. Jane quickly looked to the shelves to her left and right, and saw two identical, strange looking metal contraptions, one on each side.

"Maybe...?" she thought, wondering if the things were causing the barrier. She walked over to one and looked for an on/off button. Not seeing one, she reached out to touch it... and received a very painful electric shock that caused her to jump back. "What in the world...?" She then recalled something she had seen on a website while investigating S.H.I.E.L.D. after they took her stuff. It had talked about how S.H.I.E.L.D. would take rare, magical, and often dangerous objects and hide them away in unknown locations.

Of course. Just her luck. No doubt this was some scientifically impossible thingamabob that kept people with magic from passing while letting normal people through. Useful, but quite annoying right now. She could just leave him... But that would be rude. And anyway, it had shocked her. It deserved it.

So, she pulled back her hand, and palm-heeled the thing as hard as she could. It slammed backward into a metal crate and, miraculously, broke into a million pieces. Satisfied with her work—and attempting to ignore her poor throbbing hand—, Jane walked back over to Loki had kicked him in the head. He was Asgardian—he'd live. And he instantly sat straight up anyhow, so she deemed it a successful way to wake up unconscious Asgardians.

"Wha—" Loki looked up at her, eyes wide, and blinked several times before donning his normal expression and demanding with a snarl, "What did you do, woman?"

Jane rolled her eyes. "I saved your life, that's what. Though I can't imagine why." Much to Jane's amusement, Loki actually looked confused. He glanced around, eyes settling on the smashed pieces of the magic-barrier-thingy and then on its intact twin, and then back on Jane, who was now looking sadly at her injured hand.

"You smashed a magical object with your hand."

"Uh huh."

"...Here." Jane glanced up as he stood, and crossed the distance between them. He gently took her hand, and closed his eyes, his expression changing to an amusingly concentrated one as green light enveloped her hand. When it faded away and he let go, stepping back and opening his eyes, her hand was healed.

Her mouth fell open. "Uhhh... Thanks?"

Loki snickered at her. "You are welcome. Now do come along; and try not to break any more of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s property. As much as I will enjoy their reactions, I am sure, I will not heal you again." As he said this, he healed himself, cast one more uneasy glance at the anti-magic technology, and began to walk on.

Quickly, Jane caught up to him, and though she had to nearly run to keep up with his long strides, they walked on together for a while. Until she caught sight of an unboxed telescope.

Without thinking, Jane rushed over to it and picked it up. She ignored Loki's protesting and set it down on the ground, removing the cap and looking through the lens. She should have seen iron support beams... but instead, she saw a beautiful galaxy. She gasped. "That's—this—" She looked up at Loki, who was frowning at her in disapproval. "Will you help me steal this?"

That threw him off. "What?"

"Look!" She stepped aside, gesturing for him to take a look through the lens. Reluctantly, he did so, and gasped himself. Though probably not quite as much as Jane, Loki loved the stars too. She smiled widely. "Now will you help me?"

He stepped back and seemed to consider for a moment before stating, "If you let me use it." Unperturbed by the thought of Loki randomly appearing in her trailer to use a telescope, she nodded enthusiastically. It was a freakin' magic telescope! How could she deny him?

Wordlessly, he took the cap from her and put it back over the lens, picking up the telescope and walking off. She followed.

The next random object they stopped for was what seemed to be a picture, covered in a long black drape. Loki set down the telescope and pulled off the drape, while Jane wandered off a little, reading the labels on the metal crates as she walked by them.

A bright light flashed behind her, and she whipped around to see a tall mirror with the drape that had been covering it pooling on the ground... and a very panicked Loki that seemed to be inside said mirror.

She lost the ability to do anything but stare in horror for a moment... Before quickly rushing over and tapping the glass. "Loki? Are you—I don't know! Ok? Can you hear me? What happened? What should I do? What—" she trailed off.

Loki's original panic was wearing off, and instead, now he just looked horrified, with a little bit of kicked-puppy mixed in. He shook his head, which confused Jane. "Loki, what—" Right then, his lips started moving like he was talking, but Jane couldn't hear anything. Her heart sunk as she figured it out. "I can't hear you, and you can't hear me." Though Loki clearly couldn't understand her words, apparently her expression got her message across, and Loki deflated.

They were trapped on opposite sides of the mirror. Loki's side was a closet sized box with the mirror like a window to reality. Jane was in reality, and could only see Loki through the glass.

After hitting her fists on the glass till they were bleeding—ignoring Loki's silent but obvious orders for her to stop, and eventual begs for her to stop—, Jane sunk down to the floor, her back against the mirror for support. Loki took up the same position on his side of the mirror.

It was quite apparent to her that Loki had given up, and Jane was out of ideas.

Instead of trying to think of ways out, Loki was pondering why it had bothered him so much to see Jane injuring herself like that to help him. And it really had. There had been a knot in his stomach that became more and more unbearably tight every time she struck the magic-enhanced glass and wounded herself. He didn't care about the mortal astrophysicist—did he?

Meanwhile, Jane tried to think of how he had gotten into the mirror. He pulled off the drape... Then what? He just got sucked in? She could try putting the drape back and pulling it off again. Maybe repeating the events that put him in there would get him out.

Hopeful, Jane stood up and tried to put the drape back on. It was difficult because of her height, but she managed. She then had to pause and catch her breath, before pulling it off.

Inside the mirror, Loki was panicking. Without the window to reality, he was trapped in a small, pitch black box. His breath began to come out in ragged gasps as memories of his time with Thanos flooded his mind. He pressed his back against a wall and tried to keep the tears of fear from running down his cheeks. He would like people to believe he was, but Loki was not fearless. His time with Thanos had ingrained in him a deep fear of places like this. His heart rate rose and he began to hyperventilate—

And then Jane pulled the drape down. Light flooded the little box—and all of the sudden, Jane was literally sitting on top of him. Both were speechless for several moments.

"Oops."

"Oops? What do you mean—"

"I was trying to redo what you did when you got sucked in here. I thought that might bring you out. It never occurred to me it might bring me in."

Loki groaned. Jane glared at him. Then, she noticed the tracks of the few tears he hadn't been able to suppress. "Are you okay?" she asked, a hint of worry in her tone.

"Yes," he said, instantly moving so that she fell off his lap and onto the floor as he wiped at his face with his sleeve. "I am simply—not fond of small dark confines."

She winced, recalling some awkward conversations she'd had with Loki and others in the past about Loki's treatment by Thanos. "Sorry. I should've given you some kind of warning," she apologized.

He shook his head. "It is fine. You are not at fault."

After that, they sat in silence for at least half an hour. Eventually, Jane broke it. "This feels like some twisted version of seven minutes of heaven."

Glancing at Loki, she decided that that had been the wrong thing to say. "Yes... We are practically locked in a closet."

With a suspicious glare, she demanded, "And just what do you mean by that?"

His smirk told her she shouldn't have asked that either.

In less time than should have been possible, he had pinned her to a wall and chastely kissed her lips. She gasped as her brain caught up and she realized he had her wrists pinned the wall, his very pleasantly cool body pressed against hers, and had just kissed her.

"Wha—" The lack of personal space was making coherent thought rather difficult.

"We're trapped in a closet," he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling it. "And you broke up with my brother, making you currently single. I'm going to take advantage of that fact."

About four hours later, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents finally noticed the smashed anti-magic-barrier-making thing while patrolling. Reinforcements were called in, and when the telescope was found outside of the mirror that should have been draped...

The unlucky agent who happened to look through the mirror was mentally scarred by the image of Loki Laufeyson and Jane Foster asleep together. Fortunately for him they hadn't done more than make out for a few hours... But just the fact that Loki Laufeyson and Jane Foster were trapped in a mirror and had very clearly been making out for a few hours was definitely enough to scar the poor man.

After making a few calls to determine what should be done with the odd couple who had mysteriously disappeared from a S.H.I.E.L.D. research facility hours before while testing a teleportation advice—"Should we bring in a hazmat team? SWAT?" "What should we do if they sue, Sir? Are there even laws pertaining to this... series of events?" "How am I supposed to know?! I wasn't trained for this!"—, the agents were ordered to free the couple from the mirror.

Using a special tool that had been invented when S.H.I.E.L.D. first found the mirror, the two were extracted from it. The agents had been planning to bring them to Fury for questioning, but that didn't quite happen. Loki woke up the moment they were pulled into reality. He held the still asleep Jane with one arm, picked up the telescope with the other, smirked mischievously at the several dozen agents, and teleported away before anyone could so much as speak.

And that is how a very, very strange and unfortunate coincidence ended with Loki Laufeyson and Jane Foster finally realizing that they had fallen for each other.

#short story #lokane #fanfiction #wow i wrote romance #thor

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bratkook · 8 years ago

Text

clairvoyant. (m) part one.

masterlist.

Author’s note: I have no idea where this came from or where it’s going *shrug* I do know it’ll contain drugs, alcohol and smut, with angst so there ya go! Also not sure who it’ll be centered around so enjoy the mystery.

Word count: 3k

The smell of cigarette smoke was overwhelming in his bedroom despite the incense he had that he swore would mask the smell, it clearly wasn’t doing much. You were sat facing him on the floor, your legs tucked underneath your bum as you held the clamp to his lip and held a needle in your other hand, “Dude, don’t you think you should, I don’t know…take that out of your mouth when I do this?”

His eyes looked everywhere but at you, bouncing around the posters on his wall to his dirty hamper in the corner, literally anywhere but your eyes because he was terrified. “It helps calm my nerves, there’s no way in hell I’m taking this out of my mouth. Thanks for the shitty suggestion though.”

He took another drag, ignoring you’re look of disapproval and continuing to avoid eye contact. You just let out a huff of annoyance, focusing on securing the clamp on his lip, “Fine, but if it comes out crooked it’s your fault.”

You could see the gears turning in his head as he thought of a perfect come back, but you being your petty self took that moment to shove the needle through his lip. His eyes bulged out and his cigarette dropped from his mouth and landed on his knees. You’re positive the ashes burn but due to his shock it takes him a while to react.

He comes back to life when you exchange the sharp needle for a blunt hollow one, his hands immediately swatting off the cigarette butt as he winces from your movements.

“Stay still!” You scold him, not being able to bite back the smile and giggle that slips through your lips when you see the signature look he gives when he’s pissed.

You could feel him glaring at you as you slide the ring through the hollow needle and secure the ball at the end of it, leaning back to fully examine your work. Wow….pat yourself on the back, you should become a piercer god damn you have talent.

“You could have given me a fucking warning!” He shouts at you with newfound confidence when he knows there’s no way for you to harm him. You pick up the cigarette he dropped in his moment between life and death and slip it between your lips, taking a drag and slapping his hands before they’re able to pick at his new piercing.

“A warning? What the fuck are you Park Jimin, 15?” His eyes twitch as he looks at you smoking and gathering up your things with a smirk, “Did you want me to hold your hand and talk you through it?”

You continue picking up your stuff from his wooden floors, tossing them in your bag carelessly and zipping it up once you were sure you had everything. “Oh!” Your fingers dug into the tiny zipper on the side and pulled out two small bags.

“Why are you giving me coke?”

The bags were tossed at his face as you rolled your eyes, “It’s not coke you dumbass. Sea salt, you know, to clean your piercing.” He just looked at the bags, giant question marks hanging over his head, “Honestly if you show up to class and have disgusting crusties all over that thing I will rip it out.”

“Sea salt….crusties….not good….” he mumbled to himself before nodding and placing them on his dresser. You took his mumbling as him understanding and slung your bag over your shoulder, stepping over the vinyl on his floor as you made a beeline for his door, only stopping and looking back when he called your name.

“You’re going tomorrow right?”

Tomorrow…the start of your second year of college. Also known as the year where you should kind of have your shit figured out, at least a bit. It wasn’t like you haven’t been thinking about school this entire break, it was practically eating you alive with stress and no matter how hard you tried to seem nonchalant about it you couldn’t help but constantly look for the grey hairs that were bound to pop up.

“Of course I’m going, it’s the first–”

“No,” he cut you off with a wave of his hand, “the freshman mixer, not class.”

Jimin watched you as you went through a moment of confusion, your lips pursed and thinking hard as if he had just spat out some riddle, but then it clicked and you let out a laugh, “Yeah, yeah of course I’ll be there.”

He nodded in approval shouting out to bring your camera as you left his room and his apartment altogether.

Your head was cast downward as you clicked through the pictures on your camera, your lips curving up into a smile when you flipped through the endless photos of you and your group at one of the many summer parties that just passed. The amount of drunken selfies and extremely questionable scenarios just made you miss the carefree feeling that came with no school, now you felt a pit of uneasiness in your stomach and you felt just as anxious as the freshman all around you.

Speaking of them, it was a shock you hadn’t rudely ran into one from how distracted you were, but that was thanks to Yoongi who had his arm draped around your shoulder to help guide you. His face was blank but you could see his eyes scanning the whole area.

He was looking for campus police.

“Clear?”

He hummed and did another check before nodding, “Surprisingly, I guess they have trust in the freshman class this year.”

That was a shock, when you had gone to the freshman mixer the year before it was swarming with campus police. At the time you couldn’t really figure out why they were so uptight but when you met Yoongi and his group it all clicked. Apparently Jimin had posted something on twitter about selling pills and news got to the school principal so they decided to basically TSA our asses that day.

That was beyond eventful to say the least and it was the day you met your group of friends so it was definitely a good memory for you.

“What lens is that?”

Yoongi slips you out of your nostalgic daydreaming and you cast a glance back at your camera to double check, “24-70 with an F stop of 2.8.”

He lets out a hearty laugh, his eyes crinkling up and his gummy smile coming out, “Fuck, you’re gonna be able to really zoom into all of Tae good parts huh?”

“Oh yeah, he asked for HD and that’s what he’ll get. Hell maybe i’ll blow up a few stills for him, think he’d appreciate that?”

“I definitely would.”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, in this case wearing a pair of black sweats and a cut up band tee. His bright red hair looks a damn mess, probably due to the fact that he literally just rolled out of bed but it suits him.

“I’m thinking a good 40 inches tall, on canvas. Think you can do it?”

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh as you think of the poor photo studio that would have to print that out for you, “Why so big?”

He stuffs his hands into his pockets as he shrugs, “It might be a good icebreaker for my new roommate. What doesn’t say ‘Hey let’s be friends’ like a giant photo displaying my ass right above my bed?”

Yoongi chokes out a laugh at that, obviously being able to picture out the whole scenario he had just painted. That poor freshman was going to be completely traumatized before he even got to introduce himself. Tae’s personality is really in your face and unfiltered, if you can’t match it you run from it so hopefully the new guy could block it out like Jin used to.

“That’s exactly why I said fuck no when you asked me to dorm with you after Jin graduated.”

The three of you turn to see Jimin walking into the conversation, a beanie covering his blonde hair which contrasted against his all black outfit. A teasing smirk was on his face and his new lip ring was actually looking clean.

“Shut up liar, you love me. You only wanted to live alone so you could jack off in peace.”

“Plus not all of us are trust fund babies that have the luxury of living off campus Mr.Park.” Yoongi adds jokingly.

Jimin only scoffs and adjusts the Rolex on his wrist as if that didn’t just prove Yoongi’s statement, “Whatever,” he sighs out, “let’s get this show on the road, cmon!” He claps loudly, gaining attention from a few girls who basically end up gawking at him.

Taehyung looks at you for confirmation and you slip your phone out of your pocket, swiping through a few texts before making eye contact with him again and nodding, “Namjoon can’t make it cause work and Hoseok’s helping Jin move in so yeah, let’s do it.”

By now the freshman mixer had filled up, people were mingling and sharing class schedules. There was a few hit songs playing in the background and a crowd had formed around the food tables so now was a good time if he really wanted an audience.

Jimin and Yoongi made their way to the food table, which was right next to the makeshift stage that the principal was set to give her pep talk at later on, while you and Tae stayed off to the side.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this for an xbox.”

He reached into your bag and pulled out the beanie and mask he had asked you to bring him, “It’s not just for an xbox, Jimin said he’d pay half my tuition this semester if I did it.”

You helped him tuck his hair underneath the beanie because if anyone spotted it they would immediately know it was him. “Well that clearly changes everything…”

He gave you a grin, slipping on the black mask and tugging it down slightly so you could hear him talk properly. “If anything happens and they chase me down and my dick breaks off when I get tackled…I want you to know that I’ll still be here for you Y/N.”

Your brows furrowed when you felt him place a kiss on your forehead, the sweet gesture counteracting his raunchy words but you just rolled your eyes and muttered that he was disgusting before walking over to join Jimin and Yoongi.

A deep sigh left you as you came and rested your arm high up on Jimin’s shoulders, his frame supporting the extra weight as you leaned on him. “Had I known you were paying Tae’s tuition I would’ve joined him.”

You were expecting him to laugh at your comment but he froze and turned to look at you with both brows raised up and a seriously concerned face, “Why? Are you having trouble again?”

He didn’t wait for a response before fishing his phone out of his pockets and tapping away. You already knew what he was doing so you didn’t think twice when you reached for it and locked it, “No, no I’m not. It was a joke Jimin.”

Keep eye contact or he’ll see right through you, is the mantra you repeated in your head as he squinted at you, trying to see if you’d fidget.

“Hm,” he hummed out, “okay. But if you ever need anything you know I’m here right?” He pulled you into his side, smoothly ending the conversation before you could protest, and ruffled your hair up like an older brother would before pointing at the stage where Taehyung was.

Oh god, this was gonna be good.

He tapped the lone microphone that stood center stage, clearing his throat awkwardly and gaining the attention of all the freshman. Your hands had a mind of their own and had already began recording the entire thing. It really was a mystery how he would decide to play this thing out.

The murmurs began, questions of who he was, why he was wearing a mask, if he was gonna whip out a gun, and people saying they were leaving was all that could be heard.

“Hello freshman class!” His voice was slightly muffled behind the mask, making him sound a little creepy, “I’m the official representative of the freshman welcoming committee. And my first order of business in welcoming you to our wonderful school is to become…well acquainted–”

Your eyes were glued on your viewfinder, making sure he was in focus but from your peripheral you could see Yoongi waving his hands and pointing to the side. You panned the camera over and laughed when you saw the principal and two scrawny campus police chasing behind her as she headed straight for the stage.

“He has about 90 seconds before he loses the bet.” Jimin mumbled beside you as you turned the camera back towards Tae who had already seen the situation.

His hands rubbed together in a moment of thought, “Fuck, sorry everyone!” Before he could doubt himself he ripped off his shirt and haphazardly managed to take his sweats off, ignoring the collective gasps of everyone seeing him in all his glory as he bolted off the stage.

The three of you couldn’t hold back your laughter as he weaved his way through the crowd of freshman, your mind was on balancing your lens, recording and capturing everyone either covering their face or not being able to look away. Tae was completely shameless, holding both hands in the air and managing to throw a finger heart toward at the camera.

You were half expecting people to shove him away but it was the exact opposite, people had their phones out trying to take selfies with him as he passed by. He had even gone as far as full on twirling girls around like they were dancing if they would let him.

The second the campus police saw him butt naked, they took off after him, “Run!” Yoongi shouted out, causing Tae to look back and scream when he saw them get closer. By now the majority of people began cheering him on, a few even getting in the way of the police to let him get further.

Your camera’s shutter kept clicking as you snapped the pictures he wanted while recording, there would definitely be a picture of his butt somewhere in there worthy of a 40 inch canvas.

He had a good distance now and decided it was safe to turn back to face everyone and bow before taking off down through the parking lot, surely managing to somehow hide out and sneak into the dorms.

Your eyes were still looking through your viewfinder as your panned back around to record everyone’s reactions so you didn’t notice the poor guy close enough to get a good taste of your lens as it whacked him in the nose and mouth.

“What the hell, ow!”

You flinched and basically tossed your camera, resulting in it literally sucker punching the poor guy again before it landed securely against your chest.

“Oh my god, oh my god!” One hand was clutching his nose and the other his left eye as he groaned in pain. That lens was no joke so you could imagine how bad it hurt. He sniffled and raised his head back up and that’s when you noticed some red beginning to seep through his fingers.

Queue you freaking out.

Your eyes were like saucers as they scanned the area before landing on the food table and seeing the napkins. Your fingers grabbed a hold of his white shirt and tugged him behind you, not caring about the other people that fell victim to your camera jamming into their backs and stomachs.

The blood had began to drip down his hand and he let out another groan when it landed on his shirt, “Fuck…wow, I’m really sorry.” You refused to make eye contact as you grabbed a handful of napkins and opened a bottle of water to wet them a bit.

His head was tilted back when you decided to finally look at him so you reached up and grabbed his hair, tugging him back down, “Do you want to choke on your own blood? Don’t do that!”

He gave you a small glare, taking the napkins from your hand and pressing them against his bloody nose, “I wouldn’t be bleeding if it wasn’t for you.” Oh, he was upset. Anyone would be, he came to a freshman mixer, maybe expecting to meet a few cute girls or guys and instead he sees Taehyung’s dick and gets a beat down from a Canon. Not exactly a perfect day.

He winced every time he rubbed the blood away, reaching over to grab more napkins after a while to make sure he got it all off.

“I-Is it broken?” You quietly asked him, chewing on your lip as you saw him touch it to really assess the damage.

“No…I don’t think so.” You let out a sigh of relief, your hand coming up to rub down your face, “It’s probably bruised and I think my eyes fine. My shirt though, that’s probably ruined.”

His fingers picked at one of the splotches of blood on his shirt as your reached into your purse and brought out your wallet. You pulled out a twenty and handed it over to him, “I’m sorry, here.”

The bill stayed in your hands as he looked at it and then you with wide eyes, “No, it’s okay. It’s a basic shirt–”

“Please just take it, it’ll make me feel better.”

After a few moments of dreadful silence, he finally plucked it out of your hands and folded it up, only to reach back over and shove it right into your purse again. His fingers came back up to gently touch around his nose and eye, letting out a sigh as he dropped them and shoved his hands into his pockets, “It’s fine, no one lost any limbs. By the way, sorry for sounding like a douche. You hitting me was an accident, I overreacted.”

Was this the twilight zone?

You pursed your lips and tilted your head like a lost puppy, “Why are you apol–”

“Y/N!”

The both of you turned at the sound and you spotted Jimin and Yoongi waving you over as they walked towards the dorms. They were gonna go see if Tae managed to make it in.

“Sorry, I have to–um–it was nice to meet you…”

“Jungkook.”

You clapped your hands and nodded as you walked backwards, “Right, Jungkook. Sorry for beating you. Have a good first year in college!” You shot him a thumbs up before awkwardly turning around and running towards your friends.

Way to go, not even 4 hours into the new semester and you already managed to make someone bleed. At least the poor guys day could only go up from here.

#bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bts smut #bts fics #bts imagines #kim taehyung #v #park jimin #jeon jungkook #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #writing #clairvoyant #new

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acoolguyscoollife · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 16: The Protege

“What’s the plan, Stan?” CG asked as he slouched against the computer that Tabitha was sat near. A grin was on his face, and for a reason I couldn’t fathom, there was one on Aki’s face too. The possibility of what the two could have done while they were by themselves crossed my mind, but quickly left. That was just a stupid idea.

“What’s gotten you two so happy?” I said, hoping to get insight into their happiness. In turn, Aki sat in one of the computer chairs and spun herself around, arms in the air.

“Aki got closure, and then I showed her the wonders of the internet.” CG said with a cock of his head and a coy smile. “Turns out, she missed out on a lot of TV while trapped underground and also in another dimension.” Aki laughed at that, stopping her spin with an outstretched leg.

“Why would anyone ever leave the house? Everything you could ever need is online!” Aki said happily, and I shot a glance towards Tabitha, who shared my disdain at CG being Aki’s current role model.

“It’s called a job, and they suck. The trick is to find something that can sustain you that isn’t a real job. Like being a writer, or a scientist in a privately-owned, self-sustaining facility with food, water and power.” Tabitha said, making me think that maybe I was the only one that actually disapproved of CG being her role model.

“Exactly!” CG waved a finger-gun towards Tabitha in agreement, before standing up straight. “But yeah, you called me over, so what’s the good news?” He added, and I glanced over at her. Seth was nowhere to be seen, and I wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not.

“Right, yes. Well, first off, let’s clear up the obvious question. I don’t know where Uchen is yet, but I’m close to finding him. Currently, Seth’s in a world that Uchen had been in, looking for whatever he can find. God knows what that’s going to be, but we’ll find out right about…” Tabitha trailed off from her rambling to glance at her watch, waiting for a few moments before a bright light practically blinded me. When it dissipated, Seth stood in front of me, looking a little disoriented, but otherwise normal. “…Now. Okay Seth, what did you get?” In response, Seth chucked her something with an underarm toss, and she caught it deftly. I stood up to see what it was, and soon enough everyone crowded around her to look at it. It was… was…

It was a freaking cassette tape? Now, I’m definitely an open-minded kinda guy, but this was something else. Of all the things that Seth could have come back with, this seemed like the most useless. I had to admit though, if there was anyone that would have been enough of a hoarder to have kept a tape deck, it would have been Tabitha. Speaking of, she was looking at it with a faint smile, gently feeling the plastic with her thumb.

“It’s an old joke we had.” Tabitha said quietly, looking up at us. “What’s the most data you could put in a cassette tape?” She asked us, and I had no answer. I was sure it couldn’t have been much, they’d been out of style for a long time.

“About… maybe a few hundred kilobytes?” Seth offered, and I had no idea whether that would have been too high or low, but Tabitha chuckled either way.

“The answer…” Tabitha began, before prying her nail into the seam holding it together, pulling the tape apart. “is depends on how big the SD card inside is.” Inside the tape drive had been a smaller, concealed card. “He’s alive.” My eyebrow raised, most likely to the point where it could be seen over the lens of my sunglasses.

“Was… that something that we didn’t know?” I asked, not sure if I’d missed where she had said oh yeah, he could totally be dead.

“Well, no, we knew he was okay, just… it’s been so long. And now, I’m actually close…” Despite her looking down, the quivering in her voice told me that she was close to tears. So naturally, I did what any friend would do in this situation, and quickly changed focus. I swiped the card from her, looking for a slot on the computer to push it into, and found one quickly, slotting it in and moving Tabitha’s mouse before she could even react. The computer took a second to load the video, but soon enough, it popped up, and the man filming adjusted the camera so he could be clearly seen. His white hair reached his shoulders, but it seemed like less of a stylistic choice and more of a… forced one. His face was haggard, but still bore a warm smile, laughter lines etched on his face from what must have been years of happiness.

“Well, you found it, Williams. At this point, I’d have to say you’re way more advanced than I am, if you managed to get this far and still return.” Wallace Uchen’s voice was slightly gravelly, but otherwise easily understood. He spoke clearly and concisely, choosing his words precisely to make sure that he was clearly understood. “I would have told you to stay back, but I have the feeling you won’t listen. So instead, I’m going to do the next best thing, and warn you of what’s coming.” He moved slightly closer to the camera, which must have been propped up against something, as it shook slightly as he did so. “If you come to find me, you need to come prepared. I’m not the only one travelling worlds in here, and the person I’m following is an infinitesimally more skilled traveller than I am. For every step I make, he takes two, and he knows it.” He paused to cough; a rough, body-wracking cough that made me slightly uncomfortable to watch. It definitely didn’t sound like a healthy one, but Tabitha didn’t seem to notice. “But while he slows down, I don’t. While he rests, I move. I just wish I knew what he was resting for.” Never mind what he was saying, I just wished that I knew who Uchen was talking about. I could tell that Tabitha knew, though. She had a tell for when someone didn’t know something, and it was to act very specifically as if she did know, to avoid seeming stupid. “If you find me, prepare for whatever might come next. I don’t want to scare you, but it might not end well.” He finished, a frown creeping onto his face. “I hope to see you again soon.” Uchen said with a smile, before the footage cut off. We sat in silence for a while, all of us glancing towards Tabitha, waiting for a reaction. The one we ended up getting was… different.

“Shit!” She yelled, slamming her fist into her desk and letting fly a flurry of cursing, a lot of which I’d never even heard before. Each word was punctuated by a slam of her fist against the desk, over and over, to the point where her hand must have been injured. “I knew he would have gone looking, the old dumbass did it on purpose!” A few more curses, before she stood up. “Okay, we’re looking for him, and we’re not stopping except for… well, when we need to stop, I suppose. Get ready to jump.” She said, moving to where Seth was stood, ready to transfer herself to another world.

“Whoa whoa, hold on a second. What the hell is going on?” I asked, looking over at everyone else who was as clueless as I was. “I’m totally willing to help but I need context here.” Tabitha sighed, sitting on the edge of one of the tables that had been used for the façade of a virtual reality experience.

“Before Uchen and I met… he had another protégé. This guy, he was a prodigy, but he was insane. They kept fighting over what they wanted to do with this ability they had, since they had equal measures in making the machine in the first place. Most of what I know comes from his protégé’s notes, scrawled and barely legible, but still outstanding in terms of understanding quantum mechanics. If he had been mentally stable, he’d have probably figured out faster-than-light travel.” Tabitha paused for a moment, and I wasn’t sure whether that had been an attempt at a joke. “He’d been working on it, and if what had happened to him hadn’t happened, he’d have most likely cracked it.” She added, and I realised that it wasn’t supposed to be a joke. Once again, the circumstances that we four twenty-year-olds were in reached insane levels of amazingness. “But when Uchen refused to budge, the protégé took it upon himself to travel to somewhere else. Except, doing that without safety measures, like I’ve told you guys, ends up going bad very quickly. Without Uchen manning the tether, the protégé burned up, atomised and scattered between worlds. Or so we thought, anyway. But whatever Uchen’s found must make him think otherwise.” Tabitha stood up, and I moved closer to her, joining her and Seth in the space I knew we’d be travelling from. “He warned me to come prepared, and I have a feeling that it’s because however insane the protégé had been before, it’s been amplified tenfold.” Aki moved over to us as well, resting her hand on my shoulder.

“It’s just as well you’re not alone, right?” She said brightly. “You’ve got us by your side, and we kicked the ass of the king, so we can do anything!” Tabitha smiled at her, but her eyes behind her thick-rimmed glasses were still grim.

“As strong as we are, I have something stronger in mind. But we need to travel first.” Tabitha said, and I looked over at Amy, who was the last one to move. For a moment, she looked at her phone, but shook her head and joined us soon after. In the blink of an eye, we were in the void that I had assumed to be part of the simulation before we learned better. Now that we weren’t in our own world, Tabitha was able to wave her hand and have objects appear, floating in the air behind her head as she walked. Twenty objects in total, suspended in the air and floating behind her as she turned around.

“Mirrors?” Seth asked, being the ever-observant person that he was. Tabitha nodded, letting one float to him. “Magic mirrors. They link to other worlds. Each one links to a different world that I’ve travelled to before, allowing for quick travel without the hassle.” Tabitha said, and Amy raised her arm.

“I thought magic wasn’t real, and it was just energy.” Amy said, and Tabitha nodded, opening her mouth to explain it. Her expression changed to slight confusion, eyes glancing off to the side as she actually tried to think about how it was possible. Before the mirrors could disappear in a puff of logic, she turned back to Amy.

“It’s not really important how they work, we’ll just say it’s transferring energy from our bodies through the mirror, transporting us. But that’s not what matters here.” Four mirrors moved to each person in the void, with four staying with Tabitha. “We can all use the latent energy we have to store these in a world-between-worlds, much like what we’re in now. With a thought and a quick move of the hand like so…” Tabitha demonstrated, having her mirrors disappear from near her, and then reappear a few seconds later. “…We can store them for when we need them. You guys try it.” Aki didn’t look confident at first, attempting the gesture half-heartedly, but perked up quickly when she saw that two of her mirrors had disappeared. She must have forgotten that she’d already been able to use magic, and this was just an afterthought to her. Amy was quick to make hers disappear, as was Seth, with a slight struggle. I looked over at my own, raising my hands so they were visible. I gestured with my hand, three fingers pointing outwards as Tabitha had done, and my hands began to glow purple, the mirrors disappearing. That was… certainly different to everyone else’s magic. Nobody else had seemed to notice, though, so I didn’t bother to bring it up.

“So, what are we using them for? Quick getaways? Luring the protégé through different worlds to tire him out?” Amy asked, and Tabitha shook her head.

“We’re going to use them…” Tabitha began, while turning away from us. “…to shred the protégé into twenty pieces.”

#cool guy #A Cool Guy's Cool Life #creative writing #original fiction #story

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