#normally I would write out my whole fic first in case i make some radical changes to the story

[randomgamefan]

Hello Inscryption fans it's me, an Inscryption fan!!

This fandom is still pretty new, but uh

Stupid writers gotta be stupid writers, so i have something for you all! Its the first part/chapter of a fic!

It's an AU, but real quick we just gonna say the entire games gonna be spoiled here, so if you haven't finished Inscryption, please do so before reading this.

Also might post this on a03 if y'all like it? I know my own follower base is p small but hey, uh, why not? Also, for those of you on computers, I'm sorry if the formatting is wack, I'm on mobile.

Also I'm calling this AU playtester AU for a reason you will all see later.

Currently tw for: swearing

Okay!! I'll stop rambling, here's the fic!

Next

[Recovery process initiated]

Luke's head had never hurt this bad before. He could probably count the number of major injuries he had in his life on one hand, so there wasn't much competition, but this was definitely the worst pain he'd ever been in.

The pressure seemed to push on his eyes, somehow, like the aching pain bouncing around his skull was pushing out everything in its way of escape. He put the palm of his hands against his eyes, rubbing until the pain behind them dissipated enough to put his hand on his forehead, blinking away the static-like spots that clouded his vision, his headache fading slowly.

Which, unfortunately, brought Luke to another question - where the fuck was he? As his eyes adjusted to the low light, he could tell there were trees around him, though it wasn't a part of the forest he was familiar with. They seemed to have a pattern, a subtle rhythm to the woods that only fueled his headache. Worse than that, though, was the darkness, stretching around him.

Luke staggered to his feet, hoping to see his beloved camera around him - no dice. He was quick to turn to his pockets, but found them empty. Letting out a heavy sigh, he muttered to dead air "great, well this is just incredible. Guess I'm going to run into a bear out here and die or something."

His words, of course, garnered no response, but with enough talking to a camera, that's something you get used to. Without any idea where he was going, Luke set off, trying to search his scraps of memory to figure out how the hell he could have gotten this deep into the woods. 

It had been last night he had finished Inscryption the game, watching the game files delete them in front of his face. He expected most people would call bullshit, but he had the entire thing recorded on his camera. Luke had every intention on putting the entire playthrough everywhere, as well as suing the hell out of GameFuna. There was something wrong with that game, sure, but knocking on his door day after day? Breaking into his house? What the hell kind of company does that, on top of having a game that openly controlled your computer?!? He would make sure it all went public, and..

Luke was startled out of his thoughts by the loud cracking of a stick breaking under his shoes. His head snapped upwards, and he could see the clear outline of a path in the woods. It stretched out quite far, but at the end, he could see the light shining from a small cabin. Finally, some hint of civilization, took long enough. Luke was just about ready to put a call into the police department, get home, and get something done to these fucking people at GameFuna. 

The trail stretched much longer than it originally looked as he walked it, the creatures of the forest buzzing and calling in the night. The sounds felt familiar and safe, and Luke found the melody of the forest soothing him as he tried to offset the strange, building feeling that he'd seen this cabin somewhere before. And yet, the more he stared, the more Luke knew he'd never been to this part of the woods, and he'd never faced a cabin such as this himself. At least, outside of horror movies and games, it was quite stereotypical looking in that sense.

Finally, after what seemed to be far too long, he reached the front of the cabin. To the left, he could see a small river trickling through the land, a stone bridge reaching over. To the right, he could see a path leading to a lake, the moon reflecting off the watery surface. 

The cabin itself wasn't much to look at, worn down wood stretching around the exterior, with old fashioned curtains blocking his view of the inside. A chimney reached into the sky, nothing billowing out of it. The door was as old and wooden as the rest of the cabin, and he worried that knocking itself might damage the old thing. However, Luke's desire to go home was greater than that of preserving an old door, so he reached his hand up to knock anyways.

...

No one replied. After a couple of seconds, he tried again, calling, "hello?" Into the night. Once again, no one responded.

Luke sighed. "Oh, shit.. come on, someone answer the door." He growled at no one, trying once again to knock. No reply to his knocks came, though. And after a few minutes, Luke knew that for the time being, at least, he was stuck out here. 

"Might as well make the most of it." He muttered to dead air, heading to the small stream on the left, wondering if there could possibly be anything worth checking out in the area. However, he didn't get far before a loud growl froze him in place.

To his right, a mangy mutt glared at Luke, teeth bared. It's growl was low, full of anger and intent. Without a doubt, this thing could tear Luke apart. 

"Now, now puppy.." he didn't appreciate how his voice shook, stepping backwards. "It's okay,, I'm not here to hurt you, hey.." His words only caused the hound to let out an ear splitting, guttural bark, Luke defensively raising his arms to block an attack.

"Damn gunnit you old mutt, down!" A voice called, a thud sounding not far from Luke's feet. Opening one eye, he could see the dog was now contently munching on a bone, an angry looking man with a pickaxe storming towards the pair. Luke stepped back, taking a bit of a defensive stance as this man carried something that could definitely split Luke's head open, despite the man's smaller stature.

"Now, what are ye doin' here?" The other man raised the butt his pickaxe to Luke's face. "Ye don't look like a challenger!"

Oh, this was probably the cabin owner.. that made more sense. Luke let out a small sign of relief. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to trespass, I'm just lost. Would you happen to have a phone I could use to call for some help?"

He shook his head with a chuckle. "This place ain't mine, but If I were ye, I wouldn't rely on Leshy bein' awake! Sleeps like a rock!"

Luke felt his heart skip a beat, trying to rationalize what he'd just heard. It was probably nothing, he had to be logical.

"Well, uh, do you happen to have a phone, or know a way into the cabin."

"Oh, door's unlocked!" The man replied with a chuckle. "Jus walk right in, he won't mind!"

Luke nodded. Though breaking and entering wasn't a personal passtime of his, guess you've gotta adopt new hobbies every now and again.

"I see, thank you." Luke tried to keep his tone even, despite his heart beating out of his chest. "I'll be doing that now."

The other man nodded. "If 'e complains, jus say the prospector let ya inside!" And with that, the prospector walked off.

That did not help Luke's heart rate.

The door creaked on old hinges as Luke quietly swung it open. The interior of the cabin wasn't well lit, and Luke found himself wishing once again he had woken up with a flashlight.

A small candlestick was by the door, only one candle on its two prongs lit. Luke took it in his hand, admittedly afraid of surveying the room. However, a grunting sound alerted him to the figure in the corner before he even had a chance to look around. 

The candlestick slipped from Luke's fingers. 

Staring back at Luke were two spiraling pupils, eyes incomplete and enticing at the same time. It felt like all time froze, Luke's feet glued in place as the candlestick fell to the floor with a loud clang, extinguishing itself.

Neither spoke for what felt like hours, until finally Luke found his voice once again. 

"You aren't real." Was the only thing that came into his head. This couldn't be real, not in a million years. And yet, those familiar eyes stared back at him. 

That seemed to get a laugh out of the old photographer, a bit of a broken one. "I'm quite real, as far as I'm concerned. Are you?"

Luke felt a weight on his chest seemingly lift, and he laughed. This situation was ridiculous, impossible, unfathomable. And yet, the eyes on him didn't waver, and didn't laugh along.

"I'm not sure anymore, honestly. Man, what the *fuck*?!" The answer was honest, a bit brutally so. Luke felt tears tugging at his eyes, his mind begging for a logical explanation to why he was facing a character he'd seen in the game he'd dug up in the ground, the game that took over his PC, the game that knew his name, the horrible, cursed disk.

Leshy didn't have a response to his laughter, rather, when Luke was done laughing, he spoke up with an invitation.

"Would you like to play a game?"

Luke wiped the tears forming at his eyes. 

"You know, why the hell not?"

#inscryption #inscryption au #writing #writers on tumblr #inscryption fic #inscryption fanfiction #playtester au #inscryption playtester au #Luke Carder #Leshy #the prospector #inscryption spoilers #the scribes #fanfic #fanfiction #sam writes #hooo boy here we go #normally I would write out my whole fic first in case i make some radical changes to the story #but fuck it #this fandom needs some comtent #hopefully you all like it tho!

[iffeelscouldkill]

Five Times That Park and McCabe Were Mistaken For a Couple

Summary: Despite what a lot of people assume, Jin-Seon Park and RJ McCabe are not a couple. 

A/N: The spark of inspiration for this fic came a few months ago when I was on a Murderbot Diaries fic-reading kick. Specifically, I was reading some fics that had great queerplatonic vibes between Murderbot and ART, and it hit me that I really envision Park and McCabe's relationship in the same way: a closeness that most would probably parse as romantic, but isn't necessarily. And I suddenly really wanted to do a fic for them which contained a bunch of 'romantic' tropes, but in a non-romantic context.

Behold the result! I started writing this in May, though most of it was written over the past couple of weeks. It was originally a post-2.05.5 fic, but I sprinkled in some references to characters we meet in the second half of season 2; however, it wasn’t written to be compliant with the finale, so you can read it as a canon divergence AU, or maybe far future canon fic? Reader’s choice :D

Also, if I had £1 for every time I wrote a 5 Times fic starring RJ McCabe I’d have £2, but it’s weird that it happened twice.

Cross-posted to AO3

                                                              I

“So… are you my dad’s new datemate?”

RJ almost jumped out of their skin at the question, which came from a girl who looked to be about sixteen or seventeen, with long hair that was tied up in a high ponytail and had dyed blue streaks in it. Right, this was Shelly – Agent Park’s daughter. Agent Park had mentioned, when he invited them to drop by later that evening to pick up some annotated copies of documents connected to the Iris casefiles that he’d been working on at home, that his teenage daughter was staying over. Apparently she lived with her mother, but spent alternate weekends at her father’s place. RJ had been inwardly hoping not to bump into her; they weren’t great at interacting with teenagers.

“…Datemate?” they repeated, when Shelly continued to look at them expectantly. Agent Park was upstairs, looking for the promised files, and had left RJ standing awkwardly in the kitchen clutching a mug of green tea. RJ began to wish even more desperately that he would reappear.

Shelly flicked the end of her ponytail over one shoulder. “Yeah, y’know, his… special friend? Dating partner? Romantic interest?”

RJ spluttered at the assumption Shelly had made, based purely on walking in to find a strange person in her father’s kitchen. “We’re colleagues! I’ve – I’m here to collect some files, that’s all.”

As if going to their superior’s house hadn’t felt intrusive enough – Agent Park had issued the invitation completely nonchalantly, like it was a normal thing to do, but RJ had been self-conscious from the moment they’d stepped through the door – now here they were, being mistaken for his dating partner. (At least, a small part of their mind noted, it meant that Shelly thought they were old enough to be in a relationship with Agent Park. But that was an odd silver lining).

Shelly shrugged. “I know there’s probably an edict somewhere forbidding workplace relationships among Agents of the Republic, but I just thought… I dunno. He never invites anyone over. I guess I was hopeful that he’d finally found someone new.”

RJ sipped at their tea to try and control their expression. Inappropriate didn’t even begin to cover this conversation (also, there were three edicts forbidding workplace relationships among IGR Agents) – but mostly RJ was baffled and fascinated by how uninhibited Agent Park’s daughter seemed. Having got to know him a little better over these past few weeks of working day and night on the Iris casefiles, they knew he wasn’t just the staid paper-pusher they’d initially pegged him as, but they’d still never imagined that his daughter would be so… lively. Irreverent.

As the silence stretched out, RJ offered, “I think he’ll be back down soon. He was just looking for the documents he needs to give to me.”

“It’s fine,” Shelly said, not seeming concerned. “I was just curious – I mean, something had to have happened to make him start liking his job again.”

RJ’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?” they asked, and almost immediately regretted the question. It wasn’t any business of theirs, even if it was to do with the job. They kept an ear out for Agent Park’s approach, almost guiltily hoping he wouldn’t walk back into the kitchen at that moment.

Shelly appraised RJ for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to confide in them, then said, “You know, working longer hours, actually seeming happy for a change… He didn’t hate it before, but I think he was bored. And tired. He always changed the subject when I brought it up, but then today, when I asked how work was? He actually smiled.”

Okay, so RJ could kind of see where the ‘new relationship’ conclusion had come from. They thought back, trying to determine whether they’d noticed the radical transformation in their boss that Shelly was describing. But it was hard to say, because at the beginning they’d been caught up in the excitement of their first real case, and trying to get up to speed with things as fast as was humanly possible. Plus, they knew now that their early impressions of Agent Park didn’t represent the whole picture.

And Agent Park did smile, sometimes – just the other day they’d caught a glimmer of amusement on his face as they complained about the crabbed handwriting that Clark had used to submit her latest report, wondering aloud if they should get a specialist from the Decryption Unit in to decipher it. (RJ couldn’t lie – it felt pretty good to make their typically-stoic boss crack a smile).

Read the rest on AO3!

#TSCOSI #RJ McCabe #Jin-Seon Park #Park & McCabe #queerplatonic relationship #QPR #fluff #5 Times #5 Things fic #Shelly (yes she's Park's daughter in this even though I know it doesn't quiiiite fit) #but honestly I'm not convinced there is an explanation for Shelly that makes total sense xD #fic

[pinktatertots99]

yooo consider this: pale rufioh/latula! i feel like theyd get each other and really click yknow? they both understand the stress of keepin up an image and wanting everyone to think youre cool, plus they both got hella anxiety

.....ok shit ye that's adorbs af and now thanks for the writing idea/material nonnie. -not doin quirks for this-

aothree link for this fic

----------------------------

okay this is fine this is fine just breath in, breath out, one, two, three, four, ten, twenty-...fuck fuck FUCK nope that’s not working damnit! c’mon pyrope ya can’t just suck this badly at calming yourself!

your name is latula pyrope and your suffering the worst of panic attacks in your after life. you’d think, maybe wish and dream even these stopped by the time your dead but ol paradox space was like ‘hey latula fuck you death doesn’t get rid of your anxiety or anyone else’s own physical, mental or emotional problems!’

you’ve taken cover in one of the forest-y dream bubbles. the familiarity of blue bark and pink leaves reminds you of the parks you used to hang at that were closeby your hive. shreddin it on them pipes and-wait-fuck nonononono don’t think bout it!

don’t think about your skating, don’t think about everyone’s reactions to you, all those eyes, all those comments of disbelief and bewilderment, the twinge of fear at a mediocre response to your rad moves, how disappointed they’d be if you flopped making yourself look like a damn phoney-

okay so this is NOT helping your think pan get off the panic coaster 2000, with wild reviews of going fifty miles a second and 9/10 liklyhood to hurl your cotton candy out on the first out of five runs on it.

this would be the time you pop your medication down your throat but somehow these bullshit bubbles had ya run out! which is bullshit what kinda afterlife where ya imagine wha the hell ever has ya run outta anxiety meds!? hell why does it let ya keep the anxiety!? and for that record how does anxiety medicine even work when your DEAD like is it some mind game to make ya THINK your not anxietic anymore? talk about major irony if that’s the case.

your hiding your face in your knees as you sit in a ball, it’s quiet in the bubble but it feels like there’s more noise then wind and leaves falling. screams, static, footsteps...wait no that’s not your mind trying to give ya a damn migraine of fake noises that’s actual noise in your presence.

damn it you really didn’t wanna have to meet anyone in here. your begging it’s maybe porrim at least she gets ya. you hear a small clanking that you know too well is a plastic pill bottle. your looking up fast not expecting those rad familiar wings and spooked face from the rufioh nitram.

...well..fuck there goes your rad girl cred from the rad-est dude of your entire team (well, second rad-est your tuna is the most radical of bro’s). you look between him and the bottle as he looks...weirdly awkward. probably cause you look so lame pyrope.

he bends down enough and at the right height you snag it, pop the cap off and swallow two pills from it. your used to dry swallowing them sometimes and take a breath as you calm down letting the weird magical pills take over. you hear him situate and sit beside you, as best as he can with those hefty wings and horns.

“doin aight?” he asks as if he’s got no idea what to do as you nod. “yeah...yeah thanks its uh...it’s just nothin one of those days yknow?” you try bullshitting out trying to keep your radgirl persona up even though it’s obvious to the most pan-dead of trolls that that cover is blown to high hell.

“yeah. totally just, a wipeout right?” he asks and you perk up a bit...surprised how well he took that...too well you may add. you lay back on the tree and hum. “yeah, just, a wicked mess earlier. it’s cool though.”

“cool.”

“cool.”

......

okay this is weird. your feeling something’s rounding the bend of twists. like why is he here? why does he have anxiety meds right on him? how did he know you needed em? why is he not flipping his shit over how not cool and okay you were acting!?

atleast 75% of it starts collecting though as you think it further. kinda. you had to take a moment to remember if zahhak actually had anxiety or was just that awkward and if you could get high off those meds which, yeah probably could you’d be in for a gnarly trip if you didn’t care about yourself a little bit.

so you both sit there, letting leaves fall, wind blowing, normal shit for two abnormally radical rebels like yourselves who your slowly realizing aren’t all like that. you decide to break the ice first asking “you...gonna tell anyone?”

he rubs the back of his head like he always does that you’ve noticed. “uhh, mean, long as ya don’t tell anyone, i won’t.” you get it. on the same halfpipe your both grinding on. you put your fist up halfway, he takes a minute but moves to fist bump you.

“pretty rad nitram.”

“rad yourself haha.”

“we...should do this more often.”

“uhh heh i dunno, don’t think multiple panic attacks are good for ya.”

you elbow him with a fake ‘har har’ as he rubs the area. whoops, teal strength, you navigate around that real quick. “i mean hangin out dude.” he stops rubbing it to look at you curiously. “really? dunno mean, skating looks cool but-” you sigh. “no no dude just like this. one on one shit yknow?”

he looks a bit surprised at that and...agitated? did ya think this was too fast of a moment? maybe dude just wanted to help and here you are thinking this means your all buddy buddies now. “i mean...” he starts and you listen in. “...i dunno like, after the whole horrus thing i-”

“WOAH WOAH WOAH slow your tinkerbulls!” your blushing teal as you exclaim scooting back a bit. “dude not like that, i’m with mituna remember? i just meant like y’know, bonding over our anxiety complexities and shit. i don’t like, do that with alotta people like, porrim sometimes but her quad’s are always open so it’s like, temporary shit y’know?”

“oh.” he replies shocked almost as he looks away nervously. “mmm...dunno still mean. everyone assumes y’know, after the whole thing that, mean...y’know.” you huff, it’s not like your BLIND to past events but he’s really thinking too hard on it. “yeah well, obviously i wouldn’t do that.”

“mean...yeah but like, yknow some would still...uhm...” he shrinks a bit and how he acts has you boiling a bit inside, not at him though. “...who...would assume i would?” you ask your tone cold as he grits his teeth. “nitram.”

“look i dunno doll it’s just how everyone’s like these days.” that’s not answering your question but then again you really should’ve seen this kinda thought process pop up before. it still piss’s you off the idea that their all assuming you’d flip on a drop of a hat quadrant wise.

“yeah...well i’ll be the most bluntest of diamonds you could ask for.” you state gripping his shoulder. “gonna be loud and proud if your down for it i mean. like ‘ey me and my MOIRAIL are having the most pale of times now so shove it!’ kinda thing. again if you like, wanna i dunno.”

you let go and he rubs his shoulder with a shy smile, damn teal strength. “that...would be kinda cool but i mean...i dunno i’m fine just bein, chill y’know? just this is fine.” you raise a brow. “so...is it like...a yeah or a hell yeah?”

he looks more confident as he replies with a “hell fucking yeah.” as you both give the other a firm hand squeeze to eachother. your name is latula pyrope and you now got another rad dude to quad with.

#home stuck #hs #homestuck #ruftula #rufioh x latula #latula x rufioh #fanfiction #i made this

[carpstan]

hi @wasp-factor! i'm your secret santa. i just wanted to say how happy writing this fic for you made me - i love gakushuu too, even though i never had the chance to write about him before, hopefully it's in character. i know you like gakushuu/isogai, and i tried to include it in the fic (apparently i really like this ship, i never thought about it before). i hope you'll like it and, since we don't know each other, maybe we'll become friends. happy holidays!

Asano Gakushuu discovers the magic of Christmas

He had done it on purpose. There was no other possible explanation.

Winter holidays were approaching and the headmaster himself had given class A a social studies assignment about the influence of Christmas. Normally, Gakushuu would not have minded writing a paper on a topic that he deemed to be quite fascinating, but that was really not the case: the headmaster apparently thought it would be delightful to have everyone discuss a different aspect of the main theme, so joining all the students’ essays would result in a rich dissertation that would cover every little detail. The problem was the theme he got. 

According to the instructions he received, his task was to understand what made Christmas so appealing to people in terms of improvement of their mood and behaviour; in easier words, he had to investigate the odd phenomenon known as “the magic of Christmas”. Oh, and he had to provide actual evidence to support his thesis as well. He had to go on the streets and interview people. 

So, his father absolutely did that on purpose. Forcing him to reflect on a social event he considered not only pointless but plain out dumb, while also having him interact with random strangers who were likely just as dumb was an extremely clever way to torture him. Like that was not enough, he knew he could not complain about it with his friends, who he was sure considered him lucky and would have immediately said he got the best topic. The audacity.

It could have been literally anything else. And to say he was almost excited - no, not the right word. He was intrigued when the theme was announced. He had made some research on his own and he had stumbled upon an interesting article regarding the frailty of a consumist economy which revolves around a single month of extreme consumptions, he would have been ready and enthusiastic to write about it. Ren got that part instead. Now that was luck.

Well, he better start to plan out his actions. First of all, he was going to complain to his friends: they were not going to understand him, but he still needed to get rid of some frustration. Then he would start right away. The deadline was two weeks from then and he needed to get properly organised to avoid spending too much time on this project. The sooner he turned it in the better.

---

It was not going as well as he expected. He thought everything would have run as smoothly as usual, but he should have taken some factors into account. The problem was that for the first time in his life, he found himself in the unenviable position of talking about a topic he had no knowledge nor experience of. 

His father and he never celebrated Christmas, or any holiday to be fair. Their house was the only one in the neighbourhood, or maybe in the whole city, which was completely missing decorations. Once he was asked how he felt about it, and the truth was he did not feel anything at all. His family was not religious, and not believing in Jesus Christ sounded like a perfectly good reason not to celebrate his birth to him. He did not mind his house keeping its sobriety either; being exposed to flashing lights for more than two minutes gave him a mild headache, actually. He never thought it was sad, or whatever people said about those who did not celebrate, it was just behaving like usual in a time of the year which was just like any other period.

Still, he was having some troubles doing his deed. He had decided to start off with the interviews, since he knew from the beginning he would have had to rely on other people’s experiences, and also he wanted to get rid of the most distressful part first. That turned out not to be a good idea too.

Well, to be fair he did not have a choice. He just seemed to be particularly unlucky with the people he met. He tried his best to select those who looked more likely to actually answer his questions, but these last days also did their best to remind him the one thing he’s not good at: understanding others.

He wanted to develop a good thesis, so his intention was to gather information from people belonging to different social classes, age groups, gender, occupation and so on; he had thought that, if he had been able to analyse the phenomenon through different perspective, he would have also found the key to see the whole picture. Apparently he could have not been more wrong. 

Apart from being dragged down a rabbit hole of war stories and memories of a long dead man by an old lady, witnessing a college student have a full on mental breakdown and having a business woman tell him that her children were ruining her life and their expensive desires were driving her crazy - that would have been helpful, if only he had got the part about the economy - he received the same answers from everyone. And those were not answers he could work with.

A lot of his targets claimed that presents were the best part - both receiving and giving. It made sense, at least the part about receiving, because he really could not see the appeal of wandering all day through the streets - oh, the irony - looking for gifts and getting crazy while trying, and probably failing, to figure out what someone might appreciate. Again, it could have been an interesting take to explore for the economic aspect, but he should stop thinking about that.

No, the tradition of presents was actually a decent starting point, maybe it was kind of shallow and too closely connected with the intrinsic materialism of a consumerist society - okay, enough - and it was not completely clear to him why everyone was so obsessed with Christmas and not any other holiday if it was just about gifts, but he could make it work. What actually bothered him was the other answer he frequently received.

It was lights. People actually told him that they liked the little lights all over the buildings and all the other decorations. Lights. Was he supposed to say that what made the population radically change its habits and attitude in the month of December depended on lights? What is wrong with everyone?

Exchanging presents and “festive atmosphere” really was all he got. He could feel his average grade suffer. He was not going to let it happen, let alone because of a social studies assignment on the magic of Christmas. 

---

It was his fifth day of scanning the streets for someone who would give him some good material to work on. He had been reviewing his notes and the night before he had had an idea: it was his last resort, but time was running fast. Reluctantly, he made his decision. He was headed towards the 3E building and he intended to make a truce.   

When he did arrive at the building he could not find anyone. Class E was definitely odd, but how skilled each of them appeared to be at getting through that hell of a path down the mountain was beyond weird if you asked him. Maybe it was for the better, he thought. He would have found another way, he did not need any help, certainly not from them. 

Just as he was about to head back he noticed someone walking out of the building and towards him. Isogai arrived at the spot where he was standing fast, stopping at an appropriate distance before speaking.

- Asano-kun, I didn’t expect to see you. Do you need anything?

He did not look too happy to see him there, but he was very polite, just like it was expected from him. Isogai also seemed eager to know what brought him there, which was legitimate; he swallowed down his pride and forced himself to do what he came for. 

- Actually, yes, I do.

Gakushuu straightened his back before continuing.

- I’m writing an assignment for social studies about the social effects of Christmas and I need to interview some people. I haven’t received any satisfying answer so far, so, would you mind if I asked you a couple of questions?

Isogai was surprised by what he could tell. Fair, he thought. He was not aiming at him specifically, but any 3E student would have had the same reaction. Or a way less polite one. He had to admit, he was quite content having met him: he did not insult him and sent him away, which was already a lot, and Gakushuu did have some sort of respect for him, if he could call it that. He acknowledged he was smart and most importantly he was skillful enough to be able to use his intelligence to do a good job as class representative. He was from class E, so he mostly despised him, but a little less than he despised the others. 

- Of course. What is it?

He had hesitated for a couple of seconds before pronouncing the words, and Gakushuu guessed he had debated whether he should indulge in their conversation or not until the very last moment. 

- Do you consider Christmas important?

Isogai pondered his words upon answering.

- My family is Christian, but I’ll admit we don’t give much weight to the ritual celebration. Apart from that though, we do take Christmas seriously.

Gakushuu nodded slowly. Not religion then. He had already figured that bit on his own, religion might have been a relevant fuel in the past, but it could not get such an effect in these times. It was time to ask the infamous question then: he really hoped he was not going to hear presents and lights again; this really was his last resort.

- If not religion, what is it that makes Christmas so special? How is it different from any other holiday?

Isogai took yet another pause.

- Well, it is the only holiday that brings my whole family together. On Christmas day no one is at school, or at work, and even if it happened before that we had to spend it in the hospital, we still were all together.

A small smile was forming on his face as the words rolled out of his mouth; he may have not even realised the corners of his mouth rising ever so slightly.

- We also usually get to eat a meal that is a little more elaborate than our usual, and since we cook all together too it’s another chance to spend as much time as possible with each other without worrying about everyday’s problems. It’s the one day we can live completely carefree. And since everyone else tends to feel more generous, they leave higher tips, which is convenient.

Family. Was that the key? It was the message that also laid under those college students who mentioned some dishes that their relatives were going to cook and that they were looking forward to eating. He should have understood before, he told himself, but he knew he could not. He just could not. He was never going to understand what it really meant, he knew because he had forced himself to do it before. Even those times he had tried to picture a cohesive family, he still did not manage to get past the notion that the concept of family itself is supposed to be on a higher level than most things. Why would something one had no control over ever be so important? How could relationships decided by casuality alone be more relevant than those born out of mutual choice? It did not mean anything to him. He was never going to understand. 

But at least he had enough material to write a good essay now. He could have just thanked Isogai and left, but there was that last sentence he had said. He did not think too much before opening his mouth again.

- Don’t you think that’s hypocritical?

Isogai now gave him a full, conscious smile, even though it had a shade he could not quite place: it looked almost sympathetic. He shrugged before finally replying.

- Maybe it is, but I’m not in a position to judge, if anybody is.

Gakushuu was not sure about what he should do with that statement. It was something to think about.

- Alright, that’s all I needed. Thank you, Isogai-kun.

---

Gakushuu did not write the essay right away. Instead, he took his time to adjust all the information he had gathered. He did not take any notes while talking to Isogai, but he soon realised that was not going to be an issue at all: he remembered all his words perfectly, he noticed, and he proceeded to write them down in the evening. 

Later, he caught himself thinking about that conversation more than once. They did not even say much, and he wished they had taken some more time. Speaking with Isogai again was something he would have liked; they did not have much in common, but he still thought they might have some interesting discussions, if only they had the chance. 

He actually ended up handing in his paper on the last day. It was not usual for him, or, to be honest, it should be said it had never happened before. He knew he had made excellent work.

---

It was not evening yet, but the sun had set long ago. The sky was clear and a soft yet glacial wind was blowing; Christmas lights seemed brighter when the moon was not high up in the sky, drowning the stars themselves with their overwhelming glow. After a careful analysis, Gakushuu was confident in confirming that he hated them, and the flashing ones still gave him a mild headache. How all those people could appreciate them was forever going to be a mystery. 

Mindlessly walking through the city centre, he was still thinking about that assignment. It had kept him occupied for a good portion of time,  and he was glad it was now something he did not have to worry about anymore. As he was passing close to a café, something at the corner of his eye caught his attention. He stopped by the side of the street, unsure of the reason, and peeked through the café’s window: there he saw Isogai serving a couple of elders with a warm smile on his face. He was working hard, probably, no, surely looking forward to spending the next day with his mother and siblings. The man he had just served handed him what looked like a very generous tip, and his mind trailed back to that one conversation again. He could not understand Isogai’s situation either, he had to admit it, at least to himself. At the moment, it felt okay. Realising he could not understand everything for once did not feel like a tremendous crime he had to atone for. It actually seemed to him that he could empathise with Isogai, just for a second, and despite knowing it was nothing but an ephemeral feeling that was going to be gone in a flash, it made him feel well. Maybe poor people deserved rights, after all.

Then Isogai noticed and his face went pale. Gakushuu did not immediately interpret that reaction correctly, but he soon became aware of what his presence there had meant in the past: he thought he was going to tell his father about it. 

Isogai excused himself and rushed outside to meet him without even bothering to grab a coat and started talking before Gakushuu had the chance to clarify his intentions. 

- Asano-kun, I know I shouldn’t be working but I really-

- I’m not going to report you to the headmaster.

Gakushuu interrupted him immediately. Isogai did look significantly relieved.

- I was just passing by. But since I’m here I wanted to thank you for helping with my assignment. It was an interesting conversation.

Isogai’s eyes were wide open - he almost looked like a deer caught in the headlights. But soon he started to warm up and reserved him a smile similar to the one he gave to the clients in the café.

- Oh, I’m glad I was helpful. It was interesting indeed.

Gakushuu could almost feel himself starting to smile in the moments of silence that followed, which he hurriedly broke. 

- Well, it’s cold. You should head back inside.

He quickly said then. Isogai was almost shivering actually, but he looked somehow pleased. Gakushuu suspected he had seen him smiling, but he could not be sure.

- Yeah, that’s right. Merry Christmas then, Asano-kun.

He greeted him; his smile might have been brighter than those Christmas lights.

- Merry Christmas, Isogai-kun.

He really did not despise him that much.

---

After leaving the café, Gakushuu decided to head home. The walk was not long and he deemed it quite relaxing. He was not paying a lot of attention to the familiar buildings of his neighbourhood: everything was in place, just as it was when he had left the house in the morning. 

Except there was a difference, a small detail that could have gone unnoticed and that most people had surely missed, but which appeared like a massive change to his eyes: on his house’s front door there was a Christmas wreath. It was small and quite simple, but it was there. He stared at it for what might have been a whole minute before snapping out of the shock and entering the house. 

He found his father sitting on the sofa reading a book like nothing had happened, but he was the only person who could have put it there. 

- What does it mean?

Gakushuu asked as soon as he arrived in the living room, without bothering to greet him first.

- What is it? 

His father asked, his eyes still fixed on the book in his hands. 

- The Christmas wreath on the front door, what about it?

- I don’t know what you’re talking about. 

Gakushuu stared at his father for a handful of seconds, before huffing what sounded like a “whatever” and going straight to his room. There, he allowed himself to smile.

#assassination classroom #assassination classroom secret santa

[measurelessdreamer]

New Olivarry fic!

The impossible happened and I managed to write (probably) my last Olivarry fic and I’m actually proud of myself XD If you want, feel free to read it here or down below! <3

Coffee Beans And Cakes, It's You For Whom My Heart Aches

Summary:  Barry Allen thought he was done with love. He had missed out all his chances and if love was supposed to be only unrequited in his case, then what the hell was the point? So he filled his life with routines and small pleasures to keep himself going and convince himself he was okay. He hadn't anticipated one of those routines would eventually sabotage him and turn his whole life around, but sometimes you just need to live in a lie for a while to be able to see the truth. Barry learned that the hard way.

Relationships: Barry Allen/Oliver Queen

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Slow Burn

Words: 13268

It was three o'clock in the afternoon when Barry finally turned off his computer and hurried out of his lab, waving both Joe and Eddie with a smile, silently dodging their offers to accompany him which they both knew were fruitless to ask. It was his habit to stop by Jitters for his favorite kind of coffee and spend a few minutes in solitude just sipping and relishing the bittersweet taste he knew so well and today was no different. Being already twenty-nine, it was only normal to have his life filled with small routines like this that ultimately were the sole reason why he was able to be himself and not just some kind of zombie, struggling to see the point in waking up in the morning. Don't get him wrong. Sometimes, days got rough and he was on the zombie spectrum more than he would actually like, but when that happened, it was small pleasures like this that got him back to smiling and simply enjoying what he was supposed to no matter how much other people considered it crucial.

Nothing new ever happened during his afternoon visits to Jitters. He just loved that where people were usually swarming inside like bees in their hives he could have a peaceful time and think. It was liberating in ways not many people would understand but he didn't care. He just knew he wouldn't change this routine for anything. As hectic as his life sometimes was, this was something he wanted to keep intact no matter what. Too bad destiny had other ideas.

As expected, there were only a few people inside. One man was standing by the cash register, strikingly aggravated by the debate he was having with the barista, which Barry supposed looked more like an argument despite how the man, probably in his thirties, was trying to stay calm. Barry moved to stand a few feet next to him in a queue he just created, patiently waiting for his turn. He absolutely didn't mean to eavesdrop, his parents and Joe had raised him better than that, but he was standing right there and it wasn't his fault the man was apparently losing his patience and raising his voice as the result. Besides, he couldn't simply leave his spot unless he decided to skip the coffee and go home, which in his mind was not an option. Not even some uptight customer would change that, thank you very much.

So he just stood there and listened because what else was really there to do?

"Sir, I apologize, but I've already told you that this cake is reserved for the couple’s menu only. Feel free to choose any other, though. Surely we can come to an agreement we'll both like," the female barista said, doing her utmost best to remain as polite as possible even though Barry could see her resolve was on the brink of despair.

"I don't want any other cake," the man stated. "It's my son's favorite, always has been. We have it every time we're here. It never was 'reserved for a couple’s menu only' before so why now?"

"It's our policy to include some desserts for only specific types of menus and I'm sorry, but I don't make these rules."

"I understand, but can't you make an exception just this once? You'll get your money either way. Besides, it's not like this place is filled with people fighting for this particular cake and you're gonna close soon anyway."

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do, sir," the barista sighed and looked genuinely sorry and annoyed by this stupid policy too, but her hands were tied. Her boss probably wasn't one of the kindest people on this planet.

"Of course," the man scoffed. "It's funny, though. Not sure when exactly love of couples started being more important than love for your own damn child." The venom behind those words was borderline outrageous, even more, when Barry noticed how it made the barista slump her shoulders in defeat and shame, but it was probably the thing that caused Barry's life to change so radically that day. While everyone else would most likely judge the man for being too harsh on the woman, Barry focused on this customer's reasoning and intentions that were definitely meant to be good and decided to help out. That was how he'd been raised after all.

"Actually," he spoke, causing the barista to look at him, "he's here with me." What happened next was downright comical as the man literally froze mere inches before the exit door and spun around to gape, unabashed, at this man he'd never seen before, claiming they were a couple.

As tempted as Barry was to burst out laughing on spot, he formed a smile and turned to the barista that was staring him down skeptically. She wasn't stupid. Of course it was obvious he didn't know the man that just made his way back to them, still gaping at him, but then again, it wasn't like they needed some license or document to show they were dating. They just needed to convince her to either believe them or take pity on them. Whichever came first.

"I'm sorry about him," he started again, motioning to the man next to him. "He's not much of a people person, but he means well."

"And he's your boyfriend," the woman summarized, not buying a single word, and glanced at the other man. "Why didn't you say so before? You must have noticed him coming here."

"We usually keep it quiet. He's a bit shy, you know?" Barry clarified, letting his eyes fall on the man and locking them with his on instinct, suddenly finding it nearly impossible to look anywhere else besides the magnificent shade of blue boring into his. He almost forgot he was supposed to make sure the barista bought his little act. "Darling, I told you, you should've waited for me. We would've solved this together and spared your nerves. As much as I like the grey strands in your hair, smiling suits you better."

At this comment, the man openly glared at him, but his eyes, those incredibly pretty eyes, were glinting with amusement that kept Barry's smile intact without him even putting real effort in it.

"I was waiting for you," the man joined in. "for full ten minutes even. It's not my fault you're always late, honey."

"Seems that supertardiness is one of my powers. Glad it didn't stop you from falling in love with me."

"Believe me, I'm questioning myself about this all the time," the man teased and smirked.

Barry couldn't contain the small chuckle escaping his lips and the absolute wonder that this whole charade was going so well despite them having no clue who the other person was. Barry was too old to believe in fairytales, but part of him never stopped being a dreamer. It was probably why this connection between him and the blue-eyed stranger seemed to be almost magical like it wasn't just random luck but a plan in the grand scheme of things. But that was just silly and he was the fool for imagining otherwise when he was probably the only one feeling this.

Once he couldn't face these thoughts without breaking off his act of a loving boyfriend, he glanced at the barista and found her looking at them with an odd expression. Some sort of mixture of amusement and intrigue, probably, but then again he was only skilled in reading criminals per se, so he could be wrong. He put the question of figuring it out later to the back of his mind before he broke the silence that was on the brink of becoming awkward. "Could we have the couple’s menu, please?"

The woman snapped out of whatever trance she was in and beamed at them without any trace of her previous embarrassment intact, taking in their coffee orders and asking for their names, for which Barry was more grateful than ever since it was the most subtle way of finding out who the man was he could hope for.

"Barry." "Oliver." They both said at the exact same time, momentarily stunning the whole party. Barry's eyes once again met Oliver's, already getting lost in them and their spellbinding glimmer as if he had nothing better to do that day than openly stare.

"You seemed to be in real sync," the woman pointed out as she was writing the names right into the huge red hearts decorating the cups that were most definitely ordered for the sole purpose of labeling everyone who proved to be worthy of getting the couple's menu. It was sweet, but all Barry could do was inwardly laugh about it when he noticed how Oliver glared at the cups. "Does this happen a lot?"

"Oh, yeah, all the time. We're practically the same person," Barry answered and saw the tiny smile playing on Oliver's lips from the corner of his eyes for what it was, ignoring how elevated it instantly made him.

"You're really lucky, then," the woman said and smiled so warmly Barry almost started regretting they were so openly lying to her. But only almost.

"Hear that, Ollie? You're lucky to have me," he teased and, for reasons he probably won't ever be able to grasp, bumped his shoulder against Oliver's. He had no idea where this boldness came from, but the man next to him didn't recoil or stiffen and he decided to take that as a good sign.

"You shouldn't encourage him," Oliver said to the barista, shaking his head. "He's insufferable enough as he is."

"Says the guy who wanted to burn this whole place down minutes ago," Barry countered. "Don't you think an apology is in order? You're the one that keeps telling me agreements and rules are here to be followed not broken every time I'm late."

This time it was Oliver who moved closer, not out of fake affection like Barry had, though. Not that it really mattered to Barry's hammering heart once he felt a strong arm hooking around his shoulders and spreading warmth through his whole body as he heard the blue-eyed stranger whisper: "You're playing with fire."

However bewildered Barry was from the whole situation, he didn't let this intimidate him. "Do you want me to tell certain someone we both know that it's okay not to apologize for being a bit of a jerk?"

"I was not-" Oliver began but his words came up short when Barry just arched one of his eyebrows at him. He was probably having too much fun with this, but after having such a boring day at work, this was exhilarating to the bone and he couldn't get enough of it. "Fine," Oliver sighed in defeat and aimed his next words at the barista, who was once again dedicating them that same odd look like before. She smiled after hearing Oliver's apology and waved with her hand, saying she understood Oliver's outrage at the policy she didn't see the point of either.

"See?" Barry remarked and smiled. "Wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Oliver merely chuckled and only then let go of Barry's shoulders, making him involuntarily wonder why it caused a small downfall to his mood not to be so close to the older man anymore.

The barista once again saved him from any more uncomfortable questions his brain was so fond of sending his way when she asked whether they wanted to have the cake packed or not. When Oliver confirmed the former option, she sheepishly asked for the name of his son and wrote down "William" on the pink box covered in numerous hearts of various sizes, which once again didn't fail to make Barry chuckle. He got a glare aimed at him in return, but something was telling him every time Oliver did that, the venom behind it got less and less serious.

Once they had the cake safely in the box and their coffees in their hands, Oliver proceeded to pay before Barry could even get his wallet out. Had things been any different, he would have argued about this, but he figured it made sense that only one of them would pay since they were "together" and besides, he understood it for Oliver's way of saying thank you since Barry was the sole reason he got the cake for his son in the first place.

Barry anticipated they would exchange vague goodbyes after that since the barista was already too busy with another customer to pay them any mind and be on their way back to their lives as if nothing like this happened with the only difference that they now had a hell of a story to tell, but no such thing happened. Barry proceeded to go sit down to his usual spot and Oliver followed, awkwardly asking whether Barry would mind him sitting there with him, to which Barry merely smiled and nodded.

"It's nice to meet you by the way," he said, not raising his hand for a handshake and risking the barista would see. "Circumstances could've been better, but it was fun."

"You made that abundantly clear," Oliver deadpanned.

"Hey, you got your cake, didn't you? So if anything you should be grateful."

Oliver shook his head but smiled at his strained tantrum and Barry felt warm all over because he knew that meant the man was as grateful as he should be and Barry didn't need to hear the words to know that. Somehow just seeing was enough in this case and send his heart skyrocketing for no valid reason yet again.

"Why did you do it, though?" Oliver eventually asked.

Barry could reply with another teasing remark, but he decided to go with the truth instead. "Because you were right. When you said that love between two people who are a couple shouldn't mean more than the love parents have for their child. I'm pretty sure they have a suggestion box here somewhere. We might let them know what we think."

"And see them ignore it and keep doing whatever the hell they want? No thank you."

"Are you always this optimistic or should I just consider myself lucky?"

"It's just been a hectic week for me."

"Central isn't to your taste?"

"Is it that obvious that I'm not from here?"

"Only to people who you're fake-dating," Barry teased. "You're visiting or?"

"I've recently moved in, actually. To stay close to my son."

Weirdly enough, only then did some trivial realizations dawn on Barry. After all, he knew from Iris that a certain person of her interest had moved from Star City to Central recently. "You're Oliver Queen, right?"

"We're already on the full name basis? Here I thought you were one of those people that would take things slow in a relationship."

Barry's eyes widened in amusement after hearing an honest-to-god joke from the man who seemed anything but carefree not so long ago. "I consider our relationship too special for that."

"In that case, you should know it's not fair I don't know your full name."

"Barry Allen," Barry replied, unable to fight off his smile. Exchanging names like this had to mean something, right? If Oliver planned to forget this day even happened, that they met in such a crazy way, he surely wouldn't go through the trouble of staying there, talking with Barry and possibly finding out more, would he? More importantly, what was Barry promising himself to get out of this? What was he hoping all this meant?

"I bet your son is gonna love the box once he sees it," he changed the subject to keep his mind in here and now. "Horrid pink with hearts all over. Who wouldn't love such a creative design?"

Oliver openly laughed at the comment which Barry stored in his brain for safekeeping on instinct. "He's gonna love the story behind it even more."

The conversation didn't cease any time soon after that. Sure, there were moments of silence between them, but they all felt as natural as the times their mouths were overloaded with words. Whoever walked past them, there was no way they suspected Oliver and Barry had just met. It was like the barista said, they were awfully in sync to be mere strangers to each other. Barry could muse about it in his head, but he knew that wouldn't get him anywhere he liked and so he just kept the conversation flowing as effortlessly as before.

They left the coffee shop together. Oliver thanked him again, with words this time, and after they exchanged goodbyes and smiles, that was it. Barry was on his way home, feeling like the world could collapse and he wouldn't notice because while his legs were moving, his mind had failed to leave Oliver's side just yet. Once he realized it, he chastised himself for keeping his hopes up when the odds of him seeing Oliver again were so close to zero it hurt. Not in a way how hearing Iris and Eddie were getting married did, of course, but it still hurt more than it probably should have considering everything. So he decided to stop thinking about it once and for all and just get on with his life, back to his routines and stability.

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To his utter surprise, he found out that it wasn't even remotely that simple when he walked into Jitters the next day and noticed Oliver waiting for his turn. He politely said hi as he passed by and was stunned to the bone when Oliver not only said it back but engaged him in the conversation before he could get too far. Just like that, they fell right back in whatever force was making sure they felt good in each other's company. And once it was their turn to order, somehow, without either of them confident enough to explain it, they just knew they were gonna drink from the cups covered in love again. It was a silent agreement between them. That day and every one that followed until it became another routine bringing joy to Barry's life.

Oliver rarely decided to take the cake currently on the offer with him home. Instead, he ordered just one piece which they both shared as they were sipping on their coffees and talking. Neither of them minded the charade they had to keep going in order to convince every barista that they were indeed a couple. It wasn't a matter of not wanting to risk someone calling them on their bullshit one day or not being able to live without having their coffees served in the horrid looking colors. The couple's menu was cheaper than getting all of it separate and while that shouldn't matter since the cheapest approach would be paying solely for their own coffees by themselves and not getting any cake, it made perfect sense to both of them when the possibility to spend the time together was on the table. Most of the baristas didn't care about whether they were telling the truth or not either. Only the woman from the first day did even though Barry was pretty sure she was fully aware they were only faking and just kept her mouth shut to keep the game going.

That was probably why Barry was doing it too. It was fun, exhilarating and yet so natural he didn't feel nervous or under any kind of pressure even when he forgot to watch himself and leaned maybe just too close to Oliver's personal zone. Then he remembered that he was supposed to fake they were in love after all and he leaned all the way in, using Oliver's biceps as a pillow or squeezing his shoulder and relishing in how it felt when Oliver returned the gesture.

It didn't take long before these moments in Jitters started being his favorite part of the day. He was no longer questioning the magical vibe between them. It was just warming him to the core that he had a friend who was so easy to talk to. With Iris being busy planning her own wedding, he had every right to miss such simple interactions that were about serious talk as much as it was about merely messing around. Two months of these regular meetings passed and he felt like Oliver could safely compete with both Joe and Iris about who knew him best and possibly come of it as the winner and from what he learned from Oliver, the feeling had to be somewhat mutual.

One day, however, turned out to be different after all when Barry entered Jitters and couldn't see Oliver anywhere inside the coffee shop. His face fell down for a split second before he realized he was being ridiculous, relying on a deal they never had in the first place. Oliver was his own person after all. He couldn't expect the billionaire to come there every day for the rest of their lives. Besides, it was probably a sign that Oliver had grown tired of their silly charade and this was his way of showing they needed to stop. Barry could understand that although he was definitely going to miss the cups where Oliver's name would occasionally be written with a small heart above the letter "i" instead of a dot. Even the mere thought made him smile despite how bitter he was still feeling.

But then the door to the coffee shop opened and there was Oliver with his blue eyes so bright Barry supposed all those magazines were rightfully going mad over them. Not that he'd read any of them, but he knew from all those times Iris' celebrity crush would be showing just a tiny bit too much.

Their eyes fell on each other, making Barry's heart leap in his chest when Oliver dedicated him one of his rare but immensely warm smiles. It was as if this one moment, however brief, was straight out of a romance novel, ending in the most horrid way ever when Barry noticed Oliver didn't come alone that day.

As soon as the blonde woman with glasses and a smile so charming Barry felt his stomach drop, leaving him utterly confused because what the hell, Oliver looked at her and Barry supposed that was that. He watched them interact, witnessing Oliver dedicate her the same smile, and fighting not to visibly squirm. She was really pretty and they looked good together. Barry should be happy for his friend because that was what they were. Friends. They were not together. Never would be. Not because Oliver wouldn't handle being in a serious relationship, Barry knew him well enough to know that was just bullshit the tabloids kept feeding to maintain interest among their readers, but because they were just pretending and that was okay. It was what they both wanted.

But then why did he suddenly feel so hollow?

He didn't get a chance to find out that day when he noticed both Oliver and the woman with him were making his way to him. Shit, shit, shit, what was he supposed to do? To say? What if they noticed him staring and thought he was weird? What if this woman was going to scold him for making the whole coffee shop believe he was dating her boyfriend? What if Oliver no longer wanted anything to do with him?

"No supertardiness today?" Oliver quipped. "Some special occasion?"

"If by special you mean Captain Singh was again in one of his moods, which was worse than usual and made me pretty much run away from there, then yeah," Barry replied, trying to be as nonchalant as possible and hoping to God it was playing off.

"Captain Singh from the CCPD?" the woman asked. "You work there?"

"As a forensic scientist," Barry confirmed and frowned. "And you are?"

"Oh, I'm Felicity. Smoak," the woman beamed and extended her hand. "I'm only asking because I'm applying for a job there."

"Barry Allen. And really? What kind?"

"Hacking. Not the bad kind, like stealing people's money or anything! Although I could do that, but only if it was meant to do good. Not that I think people should steal. They definitely shouldn't do that. Especially not when there could possibly be another way how to solve their situation."

"I think he gets it, Felicity," Oliver gently pitched in.

"Right, sorry! I'm just... I'm supposed to have my interview tomorrow and I thought I was fine, but now after hearing you talk about Captain Singh I feel like applying was the worst idea I ever had."

"Hey, it's okay," Barry said. "I'm sure it'll go fine. Besides, he's a lot nicer to newcomers even potential ones. Just convince him he needs you and you'll get the job."

"Wow," Felicity gasped and looked at Oliver, "you were right. He really does know what to say to make people feel better."

"I didn't say that," Oliver denied and if Barry didn't know him any better he would think he was blushing, but that was just a silly thought, wasn't it?

"Oh yeah, just like you don't come here every day at the exact say time, right? I wonder, is it because of the coffee or something else?"

"Actually, it's for the cakes," Barry joined and earned himself another glare that made him feel warm all over.

"Of course! I knew I wasn't imagining that there was something different about you. Now I know why," Felicity said, glancing briefly at Oliver's abdomen. But there was no harsh truth behind her words and they all knew it. She and Barry were just messing around. Oliver's torso, chest, basically everything definitely couldn't have been considered to be anything but dreamy not that Barry was picturing it or anything, but he had eyes and it was clear that Oliver was in good shape and that was that. It didn't have to go anywhere else.

"Well, I'm definitely not paying for either of you today, that's for sure," Oliver grumbled and turned to face the barista to order now that it was their turn.

"You're lucky we don't put up with you for your money, then," Felicity remarked, Oliver pretended he didn't hear it even though it was obvious he did and Barry could only stare at how carefree the whole situation was despite him almost bolting out of there mere minutes ago. Felicity's natural light just made it that easy to stay and have a good time. Oliver was really lucky to have her.

The billionaire didn't plan to order the couple’s menu that day, but before Barry could compose himself enough to make it seem like he didn't mind, which he really shouldn't anyway so what the hell, brain, yet again, Felicity cut the billionaire off and asked the barista to give him and Barry the couple’s menu, vouching for them that the man wouldn't find two people more in love in the whole city. Oliver rolled her eyes but let her have it her way, ignoring her every teasing remark about the romance-themed cups coming their way. Barry was too stunned to really pay them any mind as they were making a beeline for one of the tables.

Before they sat down, Oliver's phone suddenly buzzed, making him curse under his breath as he fished it out of his pocket. Barry figured it must be something related to his work when the billionaire just apologized to them, claiming he had to take it and marched outside with his coffee.

"Must be important," Barry pointed out sadly, remembering this wasn't the first time their afternoon got a bit ruined by Oliver's phone.

"He takes his job seriously. It wasn't always like that, but since he's had William, he's a changed man."

"You must be proud of him."

"More than anything."

"How long have you been together, by the way?"

Felicity almost chocked on her coffee. "Come again? Together as in being an item? Because we're not that. We might have been something before, but now we're just friends."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought-"

"I guess that makes sense. He's the guy everyone has a crush on and once you get to know him, it's even worse. I fell hard far too quickly and it was working for a while, but eventually, we both figured we were better off as friends. It wasn't meant to be for us."

"I'm really sorry to hear that." And he really was despite how his heart skipped a beat upon hearing the information.

"Don't be," Felicity shrugged. "It's better now. Really. He needs someone he has no problem to talk to. I wasn’t it for him, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a place in his life. And what about you? Do you have someone like that?���

He should've known this topic would turn against him and he had no reason to be upset since his feelings had never passed the “unrequited love” stage. Felicity's obviously had. She'd gotten a chance with Oliver, they'd been happy for some time and then life had decided to take it from them. He'd had numerous opportunities to do something about his feelings and he hadn't. He had no one else to blame but himself. But maybe that was why it hurt so much even after such a long time.

"Nope, it's just me. I mean, I have family and friends, they are everything to me, but I don't have anyone... like that. There was this one person, but I... I never said how I felt and they're getting married next week so... it's just me."

"Oh, Barry, I'm so sorry," Felicity consoled.

"It's fine," he waved off and for the first time ever felt like these words represented the truth in his heart. Even if it was only remotely, he couldn't dwell on this for the rest of his life. He needed to move on sooner or later and it seemed like subconsciously, he'd already begun. "Just wasn't meant to be, but it's better to know that now than find out years later, right?"

"Yeah, it might not mean much right now, but I believe things like this don't work out for a reason. One day we'll both be grateful for it."

He smiled and nodded. "I think you might be onto something, Miss Smoak." His eyes then fell on Oliver who was still outside, talking relentlessly to whoever was on the other side of that call. In the chilly day of November, the billionaire looked barely as if he'd even registered the cold despite the visible puffs of air coming out of his mouth and reddened cheeks. He looked like he belonged there and Barry found it impossible to look away.

"What about Oliver?" he cleared his throat and looked at Felicity who was watching him with an expression he didn't dare to figure out. "Does he have anyone like that?"

Felicity glanced at her friend with a smile. "I don't think so. Not officially at least, but he's been different these past few weeks so I'd say someone has appeared in his life even though it's likely he hasn't realized it yet."

Barry wasn't sure how he felt about that. He considered Oliver a friend, one of the special ones even, so, of course, he wished to see him happy, but just imagining that one day the billionaire would come here to drink from love-themed cups and share one piece of cake with someone else, some beautiful woman probably, it... didn't sit right with him.

He probably got too used to having these meetings in Jitters as a constant in his life. With Oliver being the fundamental part of it. After Iris and Eddie got busy preparing their wedding and he found it goddamn hard to be in their presence, it really made sense that he would need someone new in his life. He had Cisco, Caitlin, Wally and Ralph he was thankful for it every day, but sometimes, you just need something new or to do things differently than you normally would to see everything from a new perspective and ultimately appreciate what you had all along.

His life just seemed so much easier with a cup decorated with hearts in his hands, an indicator that it's essential to find the time to mess around sometimes and to forget about everything else. It reminded him of the times he'd spent with Iris, those little moments when they would just put their feet up and talk about whatever till it was too late to even hope they would get enough sleep that night. And for the first time, he felt determined to reach out to her.

"You look like you just figured out something," Felicity pointed out. "Something good, I hope."

"Remains to be seen, I guess," Barry said but smiled with all sincerity within him.

"That actually reminds me... Are you by any chance free this Friday night?"

"Uh, yes? If this is about Captain Singh again, then I assure you that while he has bad days, he never made me work on Friday night."

"That's... good to know, sure, but it's not why I'm asking. It just so happens that I was supposed to go with Oliver and William to the movies this Friday, but something came up and I don't want the ticket to go to waste. You and Oliver really seem like you hit it off so the ticket is yours if you want it."

"Um, I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Why not? You're Oliver's friend like me and if you're worried about William, he's thirteen and so basically, all he cares about is seeing that movie. He won't pay you that much attention and even if he did, just remember that he puts up with Oliver so you'll definitely be fine."

Barry wanted to say yes. It wasn't even his anxiety caused by meeting William for the first time holding him back from voicing out that one damn word. Oliver had talked about his son enough times for Barry to know William wasn't anyone to be wary of. He was into comics, movies, tv shows, and video games and Oliver was proud of him. It was apparent from every single word the billionaire uttered about his son. That counted for something. Had William been a spoiled brat, there would never be this spellbinding glint of content in Oliver's eyes.

So really, William was not the problem. But then what was?

He eventually settled for "I'll think about it," and maybe got a bit more relieved than he should have when Felicity flashed him a smile and nodded. They both noticed Oliver finally hung up and was now making his way back to them.

"Sorry about that," the billionaire said as he took his seat. "What did I miss?"

"Barry is going with you and William to the movies!" Felicity announced and watched both men gawp at her.

"That's not-" Barry started, but Felicity shushed him with a wave of her hand. "Oh come on, you were gonna say yes. You won’t regret it, I swear. Besides, it will make Oliver immensely happy if you come. Isn't that right, Oliver?"

Oliver stared at her hard, but seeing she wouldn't relent, he sighed and looked at Barry. "Yeah, what she said. But only if it's no trouble for you."

Barry didn't have any other choice than to cave in. Oh, what the hell, he thought, it was ridiculous that they hadn't met one single time outside Jitters anyway. "What movie are we seeing?"

"Ready Player One. Have you seen it already?" Felicity asked.

Barry had actually. The other day he went with Cisco, but it also didn't go unnoticed by him how the corners of Oliver's lips quirked into a tiny a smile as he agreed to go and he found himself ecstatic to see that movie again even though he was fully aware the motion picture itself had very little to do with it.

"No, but I always wanted to. I never pictured you to be into this kind of movies, though," he said to Oliver.

"You're implying I'm getting old?"

"N-no! Of course not! It's just that-"

"Relax, Barry," Felicity chuckled, "that's just your fake boyfriend making fun of you. There's no need to get all flustered for him. It doesn't do his ego any good."

Oliver narrowed his eyes at her and for a few seconds, Barry had the time to look away and at least try to figure out why today everything was so different. Why he was so flabbergasted when he should be just having a good time with Oliver like he always would. Felicity was nice and kind so there was no reason to even consider she had something to do with this, but something did. And why the hell couldn't he get to the bottom of it?

When Felicity and Oliver turned their attention back to him, he formed a smile, hoping neither of them could see how strained it was. It wore off quickly and soon he was back to talking with them like it was that easy. But then they were parting ways and Barry saw Felicity hug Oliver and he felt his insides churning and the bitterness was back. He needed to get his shit together before Friday would come. Leaving the impression he was weird shouldn't be the first thing he does in front of William, especially now when he really wanted to come and spend his Friday this way. So he told himself to suck it up and try to see the bigger picture here. It probably wasn't as big of a problem as he was making it out to be anyway.

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They had agreed to meet outside the movie theater and Barry was actually on time or at least that was what he first thought, but then the main entrance came to his sight and he stopped dead on his tracks. Because there Oliver and William were and he couldn't hear them. They were too far and the streets of Central were as alive as ever, but to him, there was no noise because the whole world fell silent. He just watched, surrounded by the imaginary tranquility, Oliver and William talking.

It looked like William was trying to explain something he considered amazing and Oliver was giving him his utmost attention. The billionaire must have understood something wrong, though, or at least pretended to because the next thing that happened was William shaking his head incredulously and soon falling into a round of laughter, which Oliver mirrored. He had definitely faked it, then, just to get his son to laugh like this. Before Barry knew it, he smiled at the scene before him almost feeling sorry he had to break it with his appearance, but after witnessing this little and yet meaningful interaction between the two, he felt much more relaxed than when he'd left his apartment that night.

"You're late," Oliver told him once he noticed him.

Barry innocently shrugged, not regretting his reasons for violating his punctuality that night. "I didn't want you to feel special, thinking I was trying for you. Your ego is already big enough as it is."

Before Oliver could counter the snarky comment, William snorted and all attention fell on him. "So this is the Barry you've been talking about?"

"He talks about me?" Barry asked, amused.

"Oh yeah, like all the time."

"He doesn't mean that. He's just trying to be funny," Oliver said and Barry smiled as their eyes locked for a brief moment. "I figured. Wonder who he got it from, though."

"Hear that, Dad? I'm just learning from the best like you taught me."

"Just get inside before I change my mind and we go home," Oliver replied, but the way he shook his head with an amused smile he couldn't fight was the only indicator they needed to know his threat wasn't meant to be serious at all. William looked like he wanted to say one more thing but chose to rather stay silent and go inside anyway with Oliver and Barry following behind. Once inside, he sent them to buy some snacks and drinks while he went to the washroom. Barry just found it endearing how Oliver rolled his eyes at his son being so bossy. Still having the moment between Oliver and William that was the reason he'd come late freshly on his mind, he was more than thrilled that he had come here in the end. Hearing Oliver talk about William was something he always enjoyed, it would always uncover this side of Oliver he doubted many people could see. But actually seeing them interact pushed it into a completely new level and he knew he would regret it if he didn't get to find out about that.

"He's cute," he said as they were waiting in the line.

"Don't let him hear you. He would never forget that."

"But it's true."

"He's thirteen. Saying he's 'cute' might as well be an insult to him."

"Oh yeah? And what’s your excuse? Because I remember you being bothered every time I called you cute in front of the baristas.”

“I wasn’t... bothered.”

“You calling me a liar, darling?”

“Nope, just delusional,” Oliver deadpanned and got away with it only because it was their turn to order. Once that was done the man behind the cash register looked at them and asked: “I don’t mean to intrude, but are you, guys, a couple?” Before they could answer he went on. “Because we have this offer going for tonight. We’ll give you a small bucket of chocolate covered cinnamon bears for half the price if you’re a couple.”

Barry had to chuckle at that because really what were the odds of two establishments having such a similar offer, but then another thing shocked him. Both he and Oliver remained silent, no longer trying to say that they were just friends hanging out even though that was the truth. Instead, they looked at each other, reading where they stood from each other's faces without any difficulty. What the hell, William was definitely going to be ecstatic about the extra snack anyway.

"Yeah, we're together and we'd love to have that bucket," Barry said, but there was something different about saying those words even though he had said similar ones so many times he'd already lost count. He saw Oliver smiling at him and that somehow caused the whole world to freeze and mute again, overwhelming him with an unfamiliar feeling of warmth. The next thing he remembered was Oliver handing him the said bucket with numerous brown bears inside and the two of them making their way to William who was already waiting for them in front of the entrance to the auditorium.

"You took your time," William concluded, clearly more intrigued than mad when he lifted his eyebrows questioningly.

"Yeah, that's on me," Barry said. "But we got you this, so all forgiven?"

William took the small bucket and beamed for a split second before he looked back at Barry, all serious again. "You're all good. This time. But I'll be watching you so you don't teach my dad your habit of always coming late. Like I said, he talks about you a lot."

"I believe what William meant to say was 'thank you', right, buddy?" Oliver mildly chastised his son.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," William said and rolled his eyes when Oliver arched his eyebrows at him expectantly. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Barry and Oliver said in unison, which made William snort before he took his drink from Oliver's hands and motioned for them to follow him. "We should get inside. It's gonna start soon."

Both men followed him and sat down at their rightful place with William sitting between them, exchanging the bucket with cinnamon bears for the one filled with popcorn with his dad, obviously saving that for later, which made Barry smile for probably the hundredth time that night. It wasn't like he minded, though, when it was making him feel warmer than he ever had. Even when the movie started, his mind didn't completely get the hint it was time to focus on the screen instead of the two people beside him. He was actually glad he had already seen the picture. That way it didn't matter how many times his eyes flew over to Oliver and William to watch them for a few minutes instead because he would still be up to date. He just couldn't help it.

It was clear the screening of Ready Player One was going to end for good soon. Most people had already seen it and thanks to that the auditorium was almost completely empty. Barry had never witnessed anything like it since he'd always been into movies and wanted to see them as soon as possible, but this solitude was really... nice. It gave Oliver and William the room to comment on what was happening on the screen without needing to worry they were disturbing someone else.

William would occasionally brag about how much more pop culture references he could spot than Oliver and no matter what, the billionaire didn't attempt to silence him, to put him down. He didn't get bored, he listened to all his son said and even looked truly immersed by the movie. The sight made Barry so spellbound he couldn't stop staring for several minutes and even when he eventually forced himself to watch the screen and not look away again, his mind stayed there in that magical moment. Everything he'd seen that night convinced him that Oliver was a good father, which was another thing tabloids never got right. Their loss, he thought and kept smiling till the end of the movie.

After they left the movie theater, William excused himself again when he spotted one of his friends from school to go say hi.

"I'm really glad I came with you, guys," Barry said once he was alone with Oliver.

"Even though you've already seen the movie before tonight?" the billionaire asked and chuckled when Barry's eyes widened. "Yeah, I knew the whole time. You might be an amazing forensic scientist, but that doesn't mean you can lie."

"I don't know if I should take this as a compliment or an insult."

"Take it as me showing my gratitude you came anyway, then. I keep hearing it's not one of my stronger suits."

"Oliver Queen is actually bad at something and openly admitting it? Has the world started ending while I wasn't watching or what?" Barry teased and chuckled when the billionaire rolled his eyes at him in that affectionate way he did with William. Then, however, Barry’s phone buzzed, alerting him of a message from Iris. Being reminded he had to attend her wedding and that he still wasn't completely okay with it, his mood fell down so radically Oliver would have to be blind not to notice.

"Hey, you okay?" he gently asked with nothing else but clear concern written all over his face.

"It's nothing," Barry lied, all too aware Oliver could tell and expecting to be questioned about this further, but the billionaire didn't say anything. He just nodded, seemingly content to let the silence stretch out and let this be the way of how this amazing night was supposed to end. Barry should've been grateful that his friend wasn't prying, but for some reason, he decided to clarify regardless.

"You remember how I mentioned two of my friends getting married?"

"Iris and Eddie, right?"

"That's them. And it's happening next Tuesday and I just...," he trailed off, not even knowing where he was going with this.

"You don't feel like you're ready yet," Oliver finished for him, obviously remembering all that Barry had willingly shared with him about his bitter experience with love. If the circumstances were any different, Barry would be touched that Oliver cared so much he listened and remembered all that had been said between them. But like this, he just felt embarrassed to the bone.

"Barry, there's nothing wrong with taking your time," the billionaire said and although Barry believed his words, there was just something odd about the way he said them. Or maybe it was about the special kind of sadness he could see in these piercing blue eyes before him. He couldn't decipher what it meant for anything and it was driving him mad because here he was, bothering Oliver with his problems when the latter could be possibly dealing with something much worse and just keeping it to himself to have this weight solely on his shoulders. Now that was pathetic and for a while, Barry felt speechless until he remembered what amazing time he'd been having every time he'd met with Oliver and an idea popped up in his head.

"Come with me," he said before he could think better on it.

"What?"

"To the wedding. As my plus one."

Oliver stared him down, obviously not buying he was being serious. "You want me to go to a wedding and pretend we're together in front of dozens of people?"

"Why not? We're already pretending and obviously doing a good job."

"You call fooling a bunch of baristas, people we don't know, a good job?"

Barry slumped his shoulders and let his head fall when it occurred to him how ridiculous he was being. Of course pretending in front of his friends and family would be different and honestly, he had no right to ask that of Oliver so what the hell was wrong with him? Was he really so scared of facing Iris and Eddie that he forgot he and Oliver were in this together as equals? Since when was he so selfish?

"You're right. I'm sorry. I don't know why I even suggested it. Just forget it happened," Barry pleaded and looked up only after he heard William making their way to them.

They said their goodbyes quickly after that, which made Barry hate himself immensely more. He just had to ruin a perfect evening like that, didn't he? He wondered what that meant for him and Oliver. Whether the billionaire was upset and would ditch their regular meetings in Jitters or worse, ditch him completely. He got his answer at least partly the next Monday when he went to Jitters and Oliver wasn't there. But honestly, he had no one else to blame but himself so he took the coffee with him outside, feeling the breath of winter embracing him mercilessly and taking it as the punishment for being such a fool as it was and he went home, already trying to prepare himself for tomorrow.

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Surprisingly, interacting with both Iris and Eddie wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. Somehow the bond he had with them found its way to work again despite his disbelief and talking with them felt easy. Even seeing them together, stealing glances, smiling and just being happy gave him this vibe that it was how it was supposed to be. They belonged together. It was as clear as a day when they were both glowing in the most beautiful way there was.

Barry felt happy for them as sincerely as he should have right from the start. It made him realize he had been even more of a fool all this time. He could have honestly enjoyed this wedding, but the way he'd parted ways with Oliver last Friday was all he could think of. He could deny it all he wanted every time someone asked him if he was okay, but it didn't make his pain disappear or him forget about it. The ceremony hadn't even started yet, but he already knew he had to fix this somehow or at least try. He would call Oliver after the wedding or maybe come to his apartment. What if Oliver wasn't home or refused to let him in? What if he didn't want to have anything to do with him ever again?

He was so immersed with what-ifs and maybes that he failed to realize everyone around him turned their attention away from wherever it was to openly stare at something. He got out of his trance only after the voice he knew all too well found its way to his ears.

"Seems that you're already rubbing off me," Oliver said with a smile. "But unlike you, I have a valid excuse for being late. I had to find out which wedding was the right one. Did you know there are two other weddings happening today? It's November. Who gets married in a goddamn November?"

"That'd be us," Eddie said cheerily as he and Iris appeared beside them. "You have to forgive us. We just couldn't wait any longer to make this official. Besides, we had no idea Oliver Queen himself would come by."

"It's such an honor to meet you, Mr. Queen," Iris babbled out and punched Barry on his arm, which finally made him overcome his shock of seeing Oliver there. "Why didn't you tell me you were bringing someone with you when I asked?"

"Actually, that's on me," Oliver claimed. "It wasn't the plan. I just changed my mind in the last second."

"You did?" Barry blurted out as the fool he was, still unable to believe this was really happening.

Oliver looked at him and smiled so warmly Barry thought his heart was going to burst and that was no longer normal. Even in his standards. He knew he was missing something, but figuring it out seemed still so out of reach. "You're gonna introduce me to your friends or not?"

"Right, sorry. Iris and Eddie, this is Oliver," he said, suspecting Oliver was daring him to introduce him as his boyfriend. Barry, however, said or implied no such thing and just left the introduction as it was. With a single look at both Iris and Eddie he could tell they saw them as the couple they weren't. He had no idea why he refused to tell them they were wrong, though.

"How long have you known each other?" Iris asked.

"Just a few months," he replied and somehow the conversation kept going until Iris and Eddie excused themselves to get ready and Barry finally had time to talk to Oliver alone.

"Why did you come? Not that I'm not happy to see you, but... when I didn't see in you in Jitters yesterday, I thought..."

"I'm not so easy to get rid of, Barry, don't worry. Besides, there's booze and cake for free. You know me, how could I say no to that?"

Barry laughed at that and squeezed Oliver's arm in the affectionate way they were both used to by now. "Thank you, Ollie."

Oliver dedicated him another smile and that was that. The two of them never left each other's side for too long during the whole event. They fell into a conversation with numerous people Barry knew, Joe, Cisco, Caitlin, Wally, Dr. Wells, Ralph, all of them obviously suspecting he and Oliver weren't just friends and yet Barry didn't correct any of them because he was having such an amazing time that he thought this would totally ruin it and he didn't want to do that the way he had the last time.

Being with Oliver just felt so refreshing and easy, he didn't feel like the stranger he'd been worried he would be all this time. He was bursting with gratitude and he wanted Oliver to know that because he was all too aware the billionaire had helped him to heal from his unrequited feelings and how they'd broken him. He thought the damage couldn't be erased or conquered, but thanks to Oliver that was exactly what had happened without him knowing all along.

This was what kept him smiling during the whole ceremony as he watched Iris and Eddie exchange their vows. His eyes fell on Oliver's hand right next to his and he had no idea what possessed him right at that moment, but the next thing he knew, he lightly stroked the back of Oliver's hand with the tips of his fingers and before he could freak out, Oliver turned his hand with his palm up and stopped his own hand from retracting. Barry relaxed and entangled his fingers with Oliver's, letting the all too familiar feeling of warmth by now spread and his heart go skyrocketing at the contact.

They didn't let go for the rest of the ceremony and Barry was pretty sure no one was watching them, trying to determine if they were together or not. This right there was just for them and only after they had to stand up and let go, it occurred to Barry to actually wonder whether he knew the answer to the one question of all those people staring at them. He'd been pretending all this time to be in love with his friend. Had it really gotten so out of hand that he failed to notice he stopped faking it somewhere along the way without taking any hint?

Suddenly, he felt like the whole world was going to collapse on him. Remembering all those times his knees went weak upon seeing Oliver smile or when a shiver ran down his spine upon standing so close to the billionaire their bodies were almost touching. Back then, he was too exhilarated that he could still make friends, that he had made a friend as amazing as Oliver and that after all this time he finally felt normal and content and... happy. He'd been healing all this time and he just didn't know, but now it all made sense and the realization was more than just dreadful.

Because how could he expect Oliver to ever feel the same? Oliver Queen whom every girl wanted, who was funny and much more thoughtful than anyone would expect him to be, who was an amazing father who cared about small things and would always do anything to make his loved ones happy. And who, most importantly, was straight. Barry inwardly cursed. He was so screwed he wanted to cry. How had he let this happen? Why couldn't he just stay out of the quarrel the day he'd met Oliver? Why couldn't he just stop going with this play of pretending they were in love so willingly?

Everything was caving in. The world suddenly felt too loud and his head hurt. He desperately needed to get out for at least a minute, so he marched towards the nearest exit, not giving even a tiny bit of damn that it was too cold to stand outside only in his suit. All he wanted was to think in silence and peace, but even that seemed to be too much to ask when he noticed Oliver came after him, all perfect and dashing, making Barry's body wanting to react despite him being all too aware Oliver was the last person he wanted to see right at that moment.

"Hey," the billionaire said with concern written all over his face yet again and Barry wanted to laugh at the irony that Oliver himself was partly the reason for it and just didn’t know about it. "Is everything alright? If it's too much for you to be here, we can leave. Just say the word."

"No, it's not that," Barry sighed, unable to look at him. "Everything's fine. I just needed to get some air and think."

"Alright. Then I leave you to it. Just don't stay here too long. I have a feeling Joe would blame me if you froze to death."

Barry didn't laugh as he was supposed to. He didn't even smile or look at Oliver who turned away to leave. But that was the thing, deep inside Barry didn't want him to leave. Not like he had last Friday and not like he was leaving now, which was why he uttered that question he couldn't let go no matter what. "Why did you come, Oliver? The real reason this time."

The billionaire came closer and spoke after letting out a huge exhale. "Just wanted to make sure you'd be okay."

Barry knew Oliver well enough to know it was true, but he also knew him enough to figure out it wasn't all Oliver had to say. "I was doing okay. You saw that so you could leave any time you wanted, but you stayed anyway. Why?"

"If you wanted me to leave, Barry, you should've said so."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then tell me what's wrong."

Barry took a deep breath, trying to make sense of the mess his thoughts were in and failing to find the right words, growing more agitated with every passing second because Oliver was waiting for him to explain what was going on with him and he so desperately wanted to but found it too hard to even say anything at that point.

"Everyone inside thinks we're together," he finally said.

"So? I thought that was the plan. The two of us, pretending and lying to your family and friends, or did I get it wrong?" Oliver said and Barry knew that was meant to hurt.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Oliver denied but sighed when it was obvious Barry wouldn't let go. "I just find it interesting that lying to those you love is comes easy for you. You could've introduced me as your friend and denied there was more between us, but you didn't."

"From what I gathered you didn't deny anything either."

"Well, maybe because I didn't want to deny whatever they were thinking in the first place. Ever thought of that?" Oliver almost growled or maybe that was what Barry's messed up brain was telling him it was because at this point he really wasn't sure anymore. It felt like the world was trying to fool him, daring him to fall for its tricks just one more time and come of it finally broken for good because there was no way he had just heard that right. Oliver couldn't have said any of that because it just didn't make any sense. Not that it mattered because Barry's brain completely shut down once he finally noticed how close they were standing, looking directly into each other's eyes, unable to look anywhere else.

Barry's heart was hammering against his ribcage, deafening any other sound and most importantly all his common sense from trying to bring him back to reality. He didn't know how to respond, what to say, he just wanted to know what it felt for at least one fucking second and so in a flash, he connected their lips in the most horrible angle he could have and let it all crumble on him, ceasing to care completely whether Oliver would rebuff him, shove him away and never speak to him again. He just needed to know it was real. That he hadn't imagined ever falling for his best friend again and that he didn't wish more than anything to stop pretending.

He got much more, though, because Oliver didn't break away from him at all. Against all Barry's expectations, Oliver fixed their angle like it was the easiest thing on this world and kissed him back as zealously as possible, making Barry feel he could burst any second with pushing it even further and biting on Barry's nether lip, requesting an entrance Barry granted on instinct and moaned at the sensation, feeling his pants rapidly getting too tight to his liking, but he wasn't ready to let it end just yet. It was a dream coming true for him. Who would want something like that to end?

"I knew it! I knew I wasn't hallucinating it," Cisco's voice suddenly came to the surface and broke the trance he and Oliver were in, causing them to jump from the embrace and Barry wanting to die right on spot.

"Cisco, what hell, man? What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you two. It's time to cut the cake and Iris wants you there. Although I'm pretty sure she'd be willing to let it slide if she knew you were this... busy. I mean, Oliver Queen? Common mortals like us weren't enough for you or what?"

"You do realize I'm right here and I can hear you just fine?" Oliver asked, openly glaring at Cisco who backed away immediately. "Right, sorry. I'm just gonna run from this not at all awkward moment and say you're both alright."

"We'll be right behind you," Barry promised and tried to pull off a smile which was probably more strained than ever before he turned to face Oliver with an unreadable expression on his face. "That was..."

"Close," the billionaire finished for him. "It's a good thing he caught us like this instead of us arguing. I can imagine you being questioned about having troubles in paradise is the last thing you want."

"Wait, what?"

Oliver let out a deep exhale and finally forced himself to meet Barry's eyes. "You should go inside before they get too worried. Tell them I'm sorry, but I had to leave early."

"Leave? What are you talking about?" Barry said and grabbed Oliver's hand before the man could get too far.

Oliver glanced at their joined hands and lifted his free hand to gently separate them. "You got what you wanted. They're not gonna doubt anything now. But I'm done." He briefly looked at the ground, clenching his teeth, before looking at Barry again. "This would be so much easier if it just stayed in that stupid coffee shop." And without any more words, the billionaire walked away, not stopping or looking back and making Barry hate himself for failing to prevent this from happening. He watched Oliver leave again and although it didn't make any sense to him at first, after a few more seconds of silence, he realized he was the only one to blame for this. Because Oliver thought Barry had seen Cisco coming and kissed him only to make sure everyone believed they were together and honestly, could he really blame him for it? When he was too chickenshit to say anything to prove him wrong?

He did go back inside after that, but feeling more hollow than ever before, he wasn't a joy to be around anymore and eventually ended up leaving early too, thinking of everything he felt during that make-out session and coming to the most dreadful realization there was. He was in love with Oliver Queen and he just let that man walk away.

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Oliver knew both Felicity and William were trying to make him talk about it, but it was pointless. He was already getting over it, he just needed more time. It wasn't like Barry had ever tried to fool him into thinking it was more than just pretense on his part. Oliver had only himself to blame for suspecting this and now he had to pay the price. It was fine, though. He knew how to handle rejection or... heartbreak even. It wasn't anything new to him despite everyone assuming otherwise considering who he was.

Several days passed since the wedding. Oliver hadn't gone to Jitters at all as the coward he was, knowing all too well the building alone would remind him of Barry enough to make the pain raw again and ruin his whole facade and that wouldn’t help him with getting over this, which was why he turned away the offer of the owner of Jitters himself after he got a phone call from him that night, finding out he had supposedly won some price even though he was one hundred percent certain he hadn't taken part in any competition in the first place.

The man eventually admitted he just made that up to make him come because he had a daughter who, again supposedly, was a huge admirer of Oliver Queen and would die for a photo with him. Feeling too tempted to tell the man to shove it and go to hell, it took Oliver several seconds of silence to overcome the overload of emotions inside and say he'd be right there, already regretting ever going with it the second he hung up, but there was no coming back from it. Besides, there was a chance the man was being honest and in that case, his visit to Jitters would be a good thing, but for some reason, he couldn't help but doubt the man's words. It didn't stop him from leaving his apartment in the end, though.

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It was way past the closing hours, but the coffee shop was still all lit up, leaving an odd impression with how empty it was. There were no... there was no Barry and that was the whole problem. And it hurt just like Oliver suspected it would. But he told himself to shove it and finally pushed the entrance door and stepped inside.

"Hello? Anyone here?" he asked, getting no answer, which was weird because he was expected after all, so what was happening? Was this some kind of prank or a crazy way to rob him?

"You're here," he suddenly heard and witnessed his heart skipping a beat as Barry appeared behind the cash register. He spun around, marching to leave on instinct because this was just too much to take for him, but froze on spot when Barry shouted: "No, wait! Please stay. I just want to talk."

They couldn't talk. They'd lost that ability after the kiss and just being in the same room felt too suffocating, but somehow despite that, the idea of him walking away after hearing Barry beg him to stay without holding anything back seemed... wrong to him. So he stayed and turned around to face the other man, folding his arms and looking anywhere else. "Then talk."

Barry slowly made his way to him, stopping soon enough to leave several feet separating them. "Remember how we were making fun of the owner for coming with the whole menu for couples in the first place? It turned out he's actually a really nice guy. Maybe a bit too trusting since I convinced him to lend me the keys for tonight so quickly, though."

"Where are you going with this, Barry?"

"Just wanted to tell you how much this place means to me. It's not about good coffee or cakes or the whole vibe I get from it, although I love all those things too, don't get me wrong. But there's more to it."

Everything was screaming at Oliver to put an end to whatever this whole thing was and leave this part of his life finally behind, but then there was this small voice nagging at him to stay and listen. Barry was his friend first after all. He owed him to be there and listen when it was required.

"Every time I hang out with friends, we end up going here and we look forward to it. We don’t find it weird at all," Barry went on and took one step forward. "I met you here." Another step. "Out of all the places, this was the one where I felt like I could relax no matter what." And another. "After the whole thing with Iris and Eddie, I thought I would never be the same again. That I was broken and there was no way to fix it. And it took time, but eventually, I healed and let go. Partly thanks to this place too." He took the last step, locking their eyes and smiling before he uttered his next words."And I've fallen in love under this very roof and I was more late than I've ever been to realize it. But I know now and I'm sorry I couldn't say something sooner."

Oliver wanted to believe it. It pained him how much he wanted to believe it, but what if Barry was just taking pity on him? What if he was meant to have his heart broken countlessly worse than he already had?

"You once said," Barry broke his train of thought, knowing him perfectly enough to suspect what was going on in his mind, "that I was a terrible liar and you were right. Then you told me that you couldn't understand why I found it so easy to lie to my friends and family. And, Ollie, you were right about that too because it's one of the hardest things anyone could ask of me. The reason why I made it look so easy is that I wasn't lying in the first place. I wasn't pretending anymore. The truth is I've probably stopped a long time ago and I'm pretty sure so have you."

"But what if it's not real? What if we're just fooling ourselves like we've been fooling others?"

Barry slowly placed both his hands on Oliver's cheeks. "I think it's been real the whole time. We were doomed right from the start. We just didn't know about it. I'm a terrible liar and you could've told me to go to hell the second you got that cake for William the day we met, but you didn't. You just went along with it like I did. All I'm asking is for you to go with it now too if it's what you want. Because it is what I want and I'm sick of getting everything in the way of me saying it."

Oliver smiled before he could stop it and he knew right there on the spot that there was no reason to question what this was between them anymore. He knew what he was feeling, what he had been feeling for a long time now, and he wasn't going to fight it when Barry was right there, promising happiness Oliver was certain he would deliver when he had been doing it the whole time they'd known each other. It was time to stop refusing it. It was time to embrace it instead. And so he did just that when he wrapped his arms around Barry's waist and sealed the deal with a kiss, letting it serve as his yes to the other man's question. Now and every time anyone would ask him again. Because it felt real. Getting another taste of Barry's lips, he couldn't be more certain he was right where he belonged and it no longer mattered to him it had taken him so long to realize it and accept it. He was now convinced he wouldn't let Barry go for anything and that was what was mattered.

"I take that's a yes, then?" Barry asked once their lips parted and they could catch their breaths again.

"What, you didn't find that convincing enough?"

"I'm not sure," Barry replied and smirked. "You're much better at lying than me after all. You might as well keep trying harder to make me fully convinced."

"You're lucky I have no problem with that," Oliver finished and connected their lips yet again, already sure he would never get tired of this sensation because it was tangible. It was real and most importantly it was theirs.

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It was a regular day the next time they decided to meet in Jitters again. Barry still couldn't get over the fact this was officially his life. He'd never been this happy and sometimes there were still days he thought life would decide to take that away from him in the most horrible way possible, but Oliver never left again and that had to count for something, right?

They were waiting in the line as they had been numerous times before and yet something felt different this time. Their eyes were locked, hands always busy with finding countless ways how to stay in direct contact. They were in their own world, immersed and happy beyond belief it was something only the two of them shared. No one could take that away from them because they would be foolish to ever let it go.

"Welcome to Jitters," a barista they didn't recognize brought them back to reality. "What can I get you?"

Barry ordered for both of them and then finished with "By the way, we're together, so we'll go with the couple’s menu if that's okay" and feeling utterly joyful that this was official and as true as it could be.

The cashier, however, apologized instead and said they were no longer serving the couple’s menus because it was stupid to begin with according to their owner and someone had complained the policy implied one kind of love meant more than any other. Barry didn’t appreciate the irony of this at all, but he tried to wave it off even though part of him felt sad that he would never get to drink from the horrendous looking cups again especially now that he was so blessed with love and aware of it. Oliver must have read it somehow from his face as the know-it-all he was because once the barista wrote their names on the regular cups the billionaire asked: "Can I borrow your pen for a second?"

"Yeah, sure," the barista replied and handed him the object in question.

Oliver thanked him and reached for one cup, either writing or drawing something on it and then doing the same thing on the other cup. Barry couldn't tell what it was, though, because Oliver made sure it was indecipherable from the movements of his hand as the smartass he was, handing the cups back to the barista so Barry couldn't see why he needed the pen for as long as possible. Even once their coffees were ready, Oliver took them both and left Barry to pay for it which had been the plan anyway so Barry decided to let it slide and followed his boyfriend, relishing was he could call him that now, to their table. Only then Oliver handed him his steaming coffee with a smile. "I'm gonna miss the cakes."

"We can buy a cake next time we're here and share it like we used to. We don't need some special menu to be able to do that."

Oliver softly chuckled with so much affection Barry had to mirror it. "I guess you're right."

Barry finally turned the cup around in his hands so he could see Oliver's creation and stopped breathing for several seconds in shock and so much love he swore it had to be illegal because there was no way people could feel this good and get away with it. In the end, he decided to be immersed in it instead because that was what it was supposed to be about anyway.

He didn't throw away his cup that day. He took it home with him and for the rest of his life, he would wake up with it in his eyesight, reminding him that dreams could come true after all. He had never imagined a used coffee cup, although he did try to clean it as much as possible without damaging it, with his name in the center of a huge heart struck with an arrow to be the sign of something like that, but then again, he hadn't anticipated having someone like Oliver in his life either and here he was. And here he would always be. No matter what.

#olivarry #olivarry fic #fake relationship #slow burn #my last tribute to this amazing ship #hopefully you'll enjoy it as much as I did

[aspiratixxn]

Wiggles and wriggles and wounds, oh my!

Summary: Tony really wants to say fuck but he can’t in front of one insistently wiggly red spider boy.

Warnings: Blood and injuries. 

Word Count: 1877

Notes: For @jalapenobarnes​‘s writing challenge! I know I just signed up but I sort of just churned this out because it was fun to write and because I’m avoiding my two other fics heh. My prompt was “I’m trying to stop the bleeding!”, which just screamed Tony attempting to parent injured Peter. 

🚫 Starkers don’t interact 🚫

“Will you PLEASE STOP THE WIGGLINGS.” Tony can’t curse because Peter is a child and he’s really trying to cut the habit for the press, but he so wants to say fuck right now. Like really, really wants to say fuck.

The cause of said desire is of course one grievously injured Peter Parker, who’s normally fluffy hair is slick with red and he wheezes with every breath. The wheezing is less concerning when it’s because Peter’s laughing at his own stupid jokes, coming out in a pour of words.

“B-but Mr. S-Stark,” he giggles, “I’m a SPIDER! We wiggle!” And to prove his point, he wiggles a little bit even though it makes him wince from all the gashes on his body.

Tony has been blessed with multiple kids in his life. But between Harvey, Morgan and Peter, he can finally feel his age catching up with him.

To combat the raging headache beginning to bud in the back of his head, Tony does a categorical assessment of the situation. Peter’s spider suit is torn to pieces pretty much. It’s not really salvageable so he’ll strip it for parts for the next suit. Friday and Karen do a scan and reveal some pretty heavy bruising and fractured bones but no internal bleeding or compound fractures (thank fuck). Peter’s weirdo heal factor is already plugging itself in so those will be gone in a day or two. Peter himself on the other hand refuses to stop talking or moving for even a minute and he’s babbling something about how spiders spin their webs and how they walk and how their legs bend. Who knows who spider’s legs bend?? Peter Parker that’s who.

“I am. Trying. To stop. The bleeding! So, if you’ll just be a good little spider and lie still for your flies or whatever you drain the goo out of, that’d be amazing. Fantastic. Absolutely wonderful.” Tony has never felt more grateful that he has an entire med kit packed into his suit as he’s spraying Neosporin on basically every inch of Peter’s body. If he could, he might be tempted to slam dunk the kid into a whole pool of the stuff. There is to be no infections on his watch. Not after the shit he experienced in Hong Kong a few months ago. That was absolutely horrible for a regular person, who’s to say what it’ll do to Peter who can’t take painkillers or antibiotics?

“Ewwww, goo? Goo’s gross. I mean I know spiders dissolve the guts of flies and other various small insects, and sometimes male spiders but like, what do you think it’s like to just slurp goo every day for food?” Peter makes a face, interrupted briefly by the sting that the spray brings. “But I guess it’s the buggy way since flies do it too. Hey Mr. Stark, did you know that flies secrete enzymes through their feet and they drink through their feet? Or that butterflies eat flesh? Did you know that?”

Deep breaths Stark.

“I did not but you know what, of everything I sure am glad you weren’t bitten by a butterfly. Or a fly. Or any other enzyme foot secreting insect.” It’s onto the wrapping even though the worst of the lacerations are already starting to look a little better. Tony whips out a sleeve of gauze and several rolls of bandages to begin wrapping around the more severe oozing cuts, mostly located on his arms and legs though there’s quite the nasty one on his chest. Peter snorts as he begins, fingers fumbling just a bit. He’s really not good at this. His forte is more like slapping on an Avengers band-aid on Morgan’s everyday scrapes, bumps and bruises. Pepper’s the real patcher-upper. She’s off in Thailand right now though, enjoying some mangoes and a very stubborn board of directors, insisting on cutting all funds to the avengers/S.H.I.E.L.D initiative.

“It’s not enzyme foot secretions! It’s an enzyme secreting foot!” Peter huffs. “And I mean yeah this spider stuff is pretty cool y’know especially for sneaking out and stuff like walking on walls is the bomb diggity but wouldn’t it be cool if I could fly?! Imagine that!!” That’s one arm down.

“First of all, spider boy, as long as you’re not secreting enzymes on the carpet it’s fine. You know how Pepper gets about her rugs.” Peter nods solemnly, apparently remembering the Jell-O goo incident on her nice Persian rug. “Secondly, have you been sneaking out? You know how I feel about you breaking curfew young man.” And it’s a pretty generous one in his mind, at the exact stroke of midnight. Hey if Cinderella gets that much then it’s good enough for his little pumpkins to roll home and go to sleep. Peter shrugs and suddenly has the urge to look at everything else, the smoldering buildings and piles of debris, instead of meeting Tony’s eyes. He’s even mumbling YMCA to keep from saying stupid things. Oh how they grow without his notice. He sighs, thinking he’ll have to update the protocol again. Or possibly reinstall it, given Peter’s previous compulsions to just uninstall the fucking programs. Having finished the other arm, he moves onto the quickly wrap up the bits and bangs on Peter’s legs. “Third, who says bomb diggity anymore? You’re way too young to even know that term.”

“What! No way Mr. Stark, some of my favorite stuff to say is like, bomb diggity and radical! It’s a renaissance of 90’s slang.” And there’s that big, toothy smile he gives when he’s trying to butter up and get himself out of trouble. Ha! Tony’s installed a Notepad of things Peter does that are bad protocol to make sure he and Pete have some talks about things like this. Sure his old man brain might get flooded with other stuff but ever faithful Friday will remind him of it later.

The last bit requires Peter to strip off the remnants of his suit, which is going to be a bit of a problem considering Peter has a case of the jelly limbs right now. As in he’s so exhausted and beat up that his body has effectively said nope! to any form of movement that isn’t wiggling in place and being pushed around gently. So it’s the old scissors trick (not a trick) and Tony just uses some super duper ultra sharp scissors to gently cut through the wires and fabric of Peter’s suit. Peter moans a small complaint (I liked this suit Mr. Stark) but Tony’s more worried about the still dribbling tear that crosses his chest.

Peter heals like there’s no tomorrow, something that Tony only wishes he could have sometimes. But still this one looks like it might scar, especially given the kid’s habit of picking at scars. But for now all he can really do is wrap it up and-

Boss. Friday’s soothing voice chimes up and as soothing as he’s made it out to be, after radio silence all this time Tony nearly shits himself. It appears that Mr. Parker will need stitches for this one.

Aw, fuck.

Well Tony is garbage with a needle and thread so there’s no way he’s going to be doing those stitches. In fact Peter is normally the one sewing so this poses a slight problem. He doesn’t want to move the kid, who’s mumbling now about 1950’s fashion (again, who knows about these things?? Peter). And forget ambulances since they take forever to do anything and that’s not really Tony’s style in the first place.

There’s a nearby clinic, about a quarter mile away boss. Ah Friday, ever so helpful lovely Friday.

A quarter mile isn’t that bad, he reasons to himself. Even he, with his emaciated lungs, can get that far without the suit so it should be a cinch to do it in the suit right? Even with a hundred sixty four (that’s 164) pound child in his arms.

Now the real question is how to get Peter there. He’s started to sing drinking songs (he’s not even old enough to drink yet why does he know these??) and is kind of waving his arms around. Well, it’s probably not because of blood loss because Karen, and by extension Friday, would’ve let him know. The easiest thing to do would just be to scoop up the lil spider and princess carry/fly him there and pass it off to a real professional. But a part of Tony really hesitates because what if that hurts him? He’s not really known to fly slow so what if the jet propulsion opens up new words or the turbulence in-flight causes him to shift shards of bone from his fractured humerus or what if! Peter decides to start dancing to his singing!

There’s a twinge behind his eyes and he groans, pressing the heel of his palm into them. Okay. So logically none of those things will happen. Peter’s a sturdy kid. But also, Tony’s not really well versed on all this stuff. He almost tells Friday to flip a coin, carry or fly him there, but his rational brain finally takes over. It kicks his parent panic to the corner and makes him scoop up Peter, delicately of course, and take a low flying (above tree tops because they’re not getting whacked on the way to the doctor) course to the clinic, where the nurse’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. She stammers her way through the paperwork process. Peter is seen immediately by an older physician, who simply collects him and brings him back without much fuss.

Which leaves Tony to deal with the flustered nurse who literally looks like she’s about to melt into a puddle on the floor. To be fair it is 3:47 AM so this is probably a little extreme for night-time injuries. Tony mindlessly scrawls information on the papers passed to him, wrinkling his nose at the insurance one.

Strictly speaking Peter isn’t part of his insurance. But Tony quickly dismisses that, telling Friday to make a note to add him to the policy. Easily done, considering this is Tony Stark they’re working with.

The physician comes back out and ushers Tony into a room where Peter has finally knocked out, snoring on the cot like he wasn’t just painting a random street corner iron red. Tony has the good sense to sit down and try to untense his shoulder as the physician goes through lists of care items and thing, prescribing antibiotics which Tony knows won’t work. He just listens anyways, thanking her for her care and services. She says that he can take him home but in a car, not flying across the city in a suit. Probably a good idea.

He gets Friday to call Happy who is obviously very not happy about being woken up at this god forsaken hour of the night. He still grumbles that he’ll be there in ten, twenty minutes and hangs up and Tony groans once more, that headache bursting into a full-blown migraine. And he doesn’t have any ibuprofen because he forgot to restock it.  

Under his breath, in the weird yellow limelight of the fluorescent bulbs above, he finally mutters a vehement, “Fuck.”

#Tony Stark #Peter Parker #irondad #marvel #mcu fanfic #blood tw #injury tw #saranschallenge #jalapenobarnes

[simonjadis]

When it comes to centrist who tried to "Both Sides" the whole political divide blindly, these chuckleheads always lean anti-left. They're not "right wingers" by any real stretch yet always call out leftist "agendas" in media and try to deride any discussions of diversity as a "slipperly slope towards tokenism." They never realize that they're tools for the Right Wingers to exploit with how they rally against the left.

This is true, and it’s exactly what you get from radicalization engines. From YouTube algorithms to 4ch*n and the always worse 8ch*n, there are places out there eager to catch someone and drive them into:

-cynicism (fighting for change and having ideals is foolish) -reactionism (I haven’t heard of this issue before, therefore it is bad or silly) -accidental conservatism (I’m not like those guys, my ideas just conveniently line up with them in every way that doesn’t inconvenience me)

A lot of the time, this happens when someone has a group of “buddies” who tell a toxic joke. They could be in college or they could be 40 or they could be in middle school. One of them repeats it elsewhere, and people respond with hostility but the joke-teller doesn’t understand why.

When you’re told that something that you did is bad but have not been told why, you can:

1) Find out why it’s bad, make a good faith determination of if that’s true, and resolve to either change the behavior or, if it wasn’t bad, amend your behavior for the comfort of others

2) Get defensive and surround yourself with resources and people that will never scold you for anything, which will lead to group polarization -- your own behavior will escalate.

An example would be something as simple as a racist or misogynistic joke, but for this example let’s make it a homophobic one since I’m gay.

So a 13-year-old hears a joke where the punchline is at the expense of a gay person. Maybe he reads it online or maybe someone says it over voicechat while they’re playing . . . do the kids still play forknife? While they’re playing whatever. He repeats it to someone on the bus and is shamed. He’s embarrassed and a little shocked at the reaction, since it went over so well over voicechat when he heard it. Maybe nothing comes of it ... or maybe he finds himself on forums and sites that assure him that he did nothing wrong, that the world is “too PC” or another variant of the usual BS. Others in these groups then exchange more jokes -- and enjoy the 13-year-old’s. Life is uncomplicated in these spaces, which makes the rest of the world seem hostile or even “wrong.”

In some cases, such a kid grows up to be a mass shooter or a darling of the political right. But in other cases, they’re just political moderates who seem like normal people except that they gripe about “woman with blue hair” or “pronouns in bio” or other things that are just . . . normal parts of existence . . . because they spend their time spelunking in internet spaces and social groups where everyone will nod and sagely agree that “blue hair woman bad” and that someone listing their pronouns is some sort of signal that they are “other” or part of the perceived “problem.”

I am reminded a bit of “New Atheists,” not as in brand new atheists but as in the groups of white-dominated atheist spaces who decry, for example, queer rights movements as “ideology” that they compare to churches, and feel similarly about things like feminism and racial equality. These are people who vocally eschew the traditional political right, but who have a lot of anger . . . and, as if by coincidence, a lot of socially conservative views because their distance from the political right is not based upon altruism but selfishness. These dudes don’t want to be part of the political right because they want to smoke pot and say swears and have sex with a lot of women, but if a right-wing ideology doesn’t negatively impact them and might even cater to them, they gobble it up. The Orange Man appeals to many of these people.

Tangent Time

But, for a counterexample, not every time that people get told something is “bad” is, you know, true. Let’s say that someone shared a fandom ship that doesn’t go over well. I’ll pick one that has personally repulsed me since I first saw it -- shipping Harry Potter with Snape. Someone who shares a “sn*rry” fic, say, here on Tumblr gets a hostile response. They look into it and realize that in addition to squicking some people, there are also people who have survived csa and don’t want to see fic/fanart/gifsets depicting a minor and his abuser in a relationship. They COULD completely disavow all further shipping of that, which is their choice, but they could also simply go “okay, I’m not going to post any of this here, but will continue to write it on AO3 where it’s properly tagged and labeled so that no one simply scrolls across it.” That is a reasonable response. For me, that is simply a squick, not a trigger, but I’d still be happy to be able to easily avoid seeing it.

Another sort of counterpoint is when people argue that any group with so much as a single inside joke can be an “echo chamber.” Tumblr may feel like a screaming match of endless nonsense or like a collaborative art experience, depending upon whom you follow, but to outsiders, it can sound like one singular hivemind.

But . . . while I’m not questioning that there are echo chambers on Tumblr, it is so important to note that disenfranchised minorities having friends who are similarly marginalized and friends who are simply allies is NOT the same thing. In this case, the sounds bouncing around in the echo chamber are pleasant music, not a mixtape of slurs.

Tumblr’s probably not the best example because there are, you know, nazis and terfs and similar trash monsters here. But a “safe space” for marginalized people to gather and discuss, and groups of friends online or in the flesh, are not the same as echo chambers because marginalized/disenfranchised people NEED these spaces because the world was not designed to cater to them.

In contrast, the “bad” echo chambers tend to be occupied by straight white men who feel threatened by equality -- or, in their eyes, by the suggestion that the world is not currently “equal” for various marginalized groups. They want to claim to be oppressed yet have no idea what that would look or feel like, so every inconvenience in their minds is a blow against the bedrock of humankind.

#anon #ask #anon ask

[hazzabeeforlou]

11 questions

Yes I did this a bit ago but @helloamhere (thank you, ily, have fun bussing around Europe, did that once, had to follow apple maps to know where to get off ‘cause I speak ZERO German...) tagged me and I’m an anxious mess waiting for medical news today so WHY NOT! 

Rules: answer 11 questions then pose 11 of your own. 

1. What do you think fanfic does better than published fiction (if anything?) 

Okay obvious answer and not very high brow, but SMUT. You will not see me perusing the gay aisles of Barnes and Noble romance novels :) For various reasons :) 

2. What do you think it does worse

I think (maybe it’s just this fandom) overall it’s quite a bit more sanitary than novels, both in morality and subject matter. I hate to think what the purity police would say about some of the books I’ve read... especially the old ones? But then I usually come here looking for fluff and happiness too so perhaps that’s just the major draw of fanfic, idk. 

3. What’s something another fandom has or does that you wish your fandom had or did?

To be honest I’m not well versed in other fandoms, but I’m going to go with I wish this fandom didn’t have constant infighting. Seriously in all my born days I have never seen a group of people claim such a similar goal and yet devour each other so viciously. Hence I usually avoid anything incredibly explosive or triggering here; I deal with and confront radical people (religious extremists, right wing extremists) in my everyday life and I cannot bring myself to turn my escapism into that same vortex of endless arguing, though I appreciate and support those who fight the fight. I often have very sharp opinions and fall to one side or the other of the fault line, but I draw a personal boundary at a point. 

4. Do you consider yourself a “fandom” type of person in general, or committed to only one, and if so, tell me more about what this means to you.

I have been a HUGE fandom person my entire life, though this is the first time I’ve ever been in a community for it. Star Wars and Narnia consumed most of my adolescence, along with Lord of the Rings. I briefly dabbled in Dr. Who and Merlin (as one does) but because I didn't read HP until nearly the end of college, I kindof missed out on that one. Basically anything geeky or fantasy driven I have always loved, and I can’t really explain how I ended up here? But this is the only fandom I’m active in socially. The power of HL I guess... 

5. I’m trying to get through writing a first draft right now and it’s a slog. How do you stay motivated for long projects, writing or otherwise? 

Ah. A call out question! Like any good Aries, I love starting new things! And then letting them to languish unfinished. I have, however, trained in classical music, and thus I’ve programmed myself to just keep doing the thing because pieces take months and months and months to perfect and if you can’t stick with a project, you go nowhere. I also operate on a reward system, as in writing is the reward for practicing, then when I’m sick of words I go back to music, and so the turn tables. I have learned to ignore (I’m great at ostrich-ing) the crushing self doubt of creativity and just bulldoze ahead and do the thing, which results in very messy first drafts and often bad habits in my musical technique and a tendency to overplay, which wastes energy, but rehearsals wait for no one. I also thrive on last minute deadlines! 

6. Tell me about what you read as a kid. Favorite book? Or if you weren’t into reading then, favorite TV show, etc? 

I HAVE SO MANY. Narnia was my first love. I also adored George MacDonald (At The Back of the North Wind is a fucking masterpiece). My mom hardly let me read Redwall (see: hints of magic) but when she caved I devoured all of those. Anne of Green Gables. American Girl stuff (lots of it, yes Josefina and Kaya were my faves). I read far too many Star Wars expanded universe novels (New Jedi Order  shaped me as a person, esp Traitor). I remember reading all the Eragon series, though these were dubiously approved... and I read various classics, as one is supposed to. In high school I printed out the entire Beowulf in Old English, got a CD of a dude reading it, and proceeded to memorize the first several lines. I can still recite Anglo Saxon but I have no clue what it means (see: I’m a good mimic). Everything non-Christian-magic-related I read during or after college, sigh. 

7. Have your tastes changed?

This sounds bad but not really. I rarely read non fiction, oops. Biographies are a slog for me. I dislike historical fiction and I don’t have a good reason for that. I do love a good mystery, but usually not in book form (audio or visual Agatha Christie is my mana). I do adore socio-policial books, though (The Better Angels of our Nature a good example) or books doing a deep dive into a historical topic. These days I enjoy a good satire more than much else, and since I started on Terry Pratchett in 2016 I haven’t looked back. 

8. I’ll steal your question above--tell me about a fic that changed you, or became a “touchstone” fic that you go back to!!

I didn’t read fics period when I entered the fandom, and stubbornly maintained that for a while, but the fic that changed my mind was (Take Me Home) Country Roads by @a-writerwrites (Awriterwrites). I read it during a drive through the very parts of the USA it’s set in, and I couldn’t put it down, spotty internet be damned. From there @horsegirlharry birthed me into the gay 1D world, though I can’t for the life of me remember which of hers I first read! (Does it matter? They’re all so beautiful...) 

9. Tell me about a WIP, if applicable. How’s it going?? It sounds great. 

I’m plodding along on The Garden, it’s going well, but urgency isn’t a priority. It’s going to be one of those things that I finish and then go in and make matter because right now my ideas are half formed and I know I’ll eventually know where I’m going but it’s a case of blind trust in instinct at this point! 

10. What’s your favorite place to read and sitting position?

Like a true gay I cannot sit normally in a chair, coupled with my pain issues means I’m usually draped over the back of something with a cushy lumbar support, massive pillow, or propped sideways lying down. I love reading outside, but have a tendency to attract bugs, also I’m very light sensitive so my eyes hate the sun, especially if I’m reading from a screen. 

11. Do you feel like fic reading and writing is social for you? E.g. do you share with friends (in or outside of fandom), or are you a lone wolf seeking out your fics in the dead of night??

I LOVE the social aspect of fic reading and writing within fandom! I have shared PITS with only two real life friends though; I am very tight lipped about the fact that I write fic. People are cruel and musicians are judgmental arseholes and if I prefer to spend my days dreaming up love stories for my OTP instead of pouring over scores, that’s my fucking business. 

Alright, 11 from me (I wanted to include artists too so!!): 

1. Are you a start small-work larger type creator, or map everything out then attend to detail?

2. What style of art/writing has most influenced your creative choices? (Genre, time period, muse)

3. How long have you been writing/arting? Is this something you knew you’d do your whole life?

4. What is your favorite thing about creating for your fandom? (reception, excitement, newness, etc.) 

5. Have you met any recent creative goals that you’re really proud of? 

6. What is your creative baby; what work do you want stamped on your proverbial gravestone as I MADE THIS (or have you made it yet?)

7. Do outside forces (politics, culture, hegemonies) play into your creations? Do you intentionally or subconsciously subvert norms or explore ideas?

8. Your creative mind is a garden. Describe what kind it would be and what it would contain (i.e. rock garden, palace garden, wildflowers, rose... etc.) 

9. Do you believe that creative art has power and if so, how do you hope yours impacts others? 

10. I’m double stealing this question: what’s a fic or fan art that changed your life or was a touchstone for you?

11. If you could pick any hero of yours to read/look at your creations, who would it be and why?

TOTALLY only if you want to, but @13ways-of-looking @twopoppies @alienfuckeronmain @prettytruthsandlies @pattern-pals @newleafover @disgruntledkittenface @lesbianiconharrystyles @lululawrence

#writing stuff #about me