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tempersteel:

❛ ━━━━ YOU CALL THAT A GUN? ❜ a sneer, teeth on edge like the sloping plane of a sword. her fingers tap together; thumb to index, thumb to middle finger, thumb to ring finger. a mechanism to count the piston tendons in her arm. ❛ you think we have anything in common? ❜

❝ does more than you THINK. ❞ the air FREEZES, permeated by the guns chill, an arching white-blue light expanding across the ground just past the both of them, leaving jagged ice crystals behind. ( he curls his fingers away from the trigger and sets the gun to rest on his shoulder, feeling the sub-zero temps even through his thick parka ). ❝ – sure, SURVIVAL. maybe even a nice little PRIZE along the way. ❞

#tempersteel

saraqxeen:

There was a smile, if only for a second, before she felt it wither away && crumble beneath the cracks of the mask she’d comfortably slipped into. It wasn’t a WIN, just a play && — if she were quietly admitting things to herself — it was a s m a r t play at that. Expect the unexpected. The league had drilled that into her from the moment she surfaced from the depths of the East China Sea ( AGAIN… ) to the moment she fled for the security of her soul. ASTOUNDING how it continued to reverberate between the smallest cracks of her spine to the tiniest extension of her fingers — AMAZING how she could still feel the familiar sensation of h e a t prickle at her checks before she met the gaze that A L W A Y S seemed to throw ice back into her veins. It was a challenge and she’d be a damn fool to play && yet…

“ You want to be an ASS to everyone else on this ship? That’s FINE but —— ”

QUIT WHILE YOU’RE AHEAD, LEONARD. The words shriveled into the center of her throat, dying there like the rest of her thought before it even made an IMPACT. She wanted to hate him. More so than anybody on the Waverider — he made it so e a s y to && despite it ALL she found herself c a r i n g more deeply than she ever imagined she would. There was an unspoken trust between the kindred pieces of a soul neither wanted to admit having because if they ever did then… EXHALE as fingers swept past brittle blonde && into the darkened roots of cascading locks before setting the cards softly against her lap. FACE DOWN because it wasn’t a battle she’d lost quite yet — wasn’t one she was planning on losing. AFFECTION seemed to be smothered between the space that separated them &&, for a moment, she considered acting on it. Releasing the h o l d that kept her weighted in her spot to brush her fingers along his cheek — certainly not as a COMFORT mechanism but as one of affection — before resting her palm flat against the skin that had to be warmer than it looked. Like OLIVER. Exactly like the thousand && one times she stood in the foundry, sullen face looking her in the eyes as the only form of apology he knew how to extend before she cupped the sunken cheeks in order to let him know that she was still THERE. But Leonard wasn’t him && this wasn’t t h a t. RIGHT?

“ —— don’t lose the only GOOD thing in your life along the way. ”

is this a WIN or a LOSS? somehow it doesn’t feel like either. more like WHIPLASH. how’d they even end up like this? they’re IDIOTS. him more, definitely. it’s amazing either of them are still on the team. -- but it’s impossible not to laugh, soft && quiet. and he can’t help the smile that BLOOMS -- ... he latches onto something else ( out of desperation ? cowardice after the bravado ? ) before he thinks about it, really. it’s caught his attention, and maybe it’s only trading one frightening topic for another, in the end. that same back and forth they’ve been caught in ever since they met, he thinks. but here’s the perfect opening he didn’t realize he was looking for; and he’s SEIZING it. because if he doesn’t ... well.

❝ -- and i’m NOT? to you? ❞

the cards are set aside, fully. ( face down -- he’s not forfeiting either game )

❝ --SARA. ❞

and what he’s going to say evaporates as he hand touches his cheek. she’s clever. he hasn’t FORGOTTEN that, but he lost sight of the game for a second. and in that hurried breath, she’s snuck in. he can’t help his narrowed eyes, or the way his pursed lips might look as if he’s suspicious. he’s NOT. just -- caught off-guard.

❝ and what’s that? ❞

just a split second, a stuttering HEARTBEAT and a crooked smile -- almost, almost.... almost, from his lips: YOU? because she is. Mick was a GOOD THING in his life, sure, before everything went down. a brother && a friend. but that’s changed ( maybe he’d even count the Flash as a GOOD THING, and even the team and this damned stupid heroism he’s found in himself, but mostly, he wants to say -- YOU. ), and even if it hurts, Leonard has accepted that. and even after it all, all the memories and the history, he feels a wry sympathy for MICK. he’s just about forgotten where that conversational thread has gone. isn’t quite sure if he cares, either ( and there’s the guilt, buried deep, but there ). he’s held all of that BACK, but --

-- oh, but there’s one last plea on his lips:

❝ TELL ME. ❞

#;; hello hello how are you!! <3 #;; i have missed you very much also gosh

@tempersteel.

❝ SEE, when people make threats, I tend to get GUN-HAPPY. ❞ his fingers curl around the weapon, tapping softly. ready to go, MAJOR TOM. ❝ -- but it seems to ME we might have the same goal here. ❞

#tempersteel #;; what its this?? WHO KNOWS #;; but hello

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foxmouth:

Homes at Night, 2016 | by Todd Hido

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saraqxeen:

❝ why not B O T H ? ❞

inhale something cold. something frigid. a familiar burning sensation that reminded her that she was still alive, still d r o w n i n g in everything she’d tried her hardest to surface from. a feeling that felt more like HOME than she wanted to admit to herself — let alone aloud, to him. it was no longer eerie, not enticingly refreshing as she’d once regarded it to be, just BOTHERSOME. a d i s t r a c t i o n in the game of wits she always seemed to be at battle against. an inner war, much like the one he faced when alone in the stoic silence he so badly C R A V E D. she shouldn’t have cared as much as she let off, truly, but the more time ticked by, cards twice leafed through cracked knuckles, the more she felt annoyed by the audacity of it all. how could a man so D E P E N D E N T on a partnership dismantle the very thing that had gotten him through life without blinking an eye? when did he become oliver queen? more importantly, when did he become h e r ?

questions that should’ve been displayed peacefully along the space that divided them danced delicately in between the mildly P L A Y F U L challenge that he’d haphazardly thrown her way. c a r e l e s s. a novice in a field full of landmines with EVERY intention of showing her how to win her game. beautiful, like a painting hung high from a vaulted ceiling, but not nearly e n t i c i n g enough to make her BITE. slowly the rose colored hues of her lips tugged into a smirk, fingers flipping between cards she’d glanced over a thousand times, before tossing one into the pile of one that had been started along the metal of the floor. N O R M A L. tit for tat — not a winner’s play, not a betting man’s deal, yet not a q u i t t e r’ s forfeit. slow && steady won a race she hadn’t known she’d signed up for, the gentle reminder that the longer S H E played H I S game, the more willing H E ‘ D be to playing her own.

❝ —— or did you leave your ability to MULTI-TASK with M I C K ? ❞

he has to close his eyes for a moment, again.

things are a little too REAL. a little too vulnerable for his liking - and hers, maybe. he has to wonder. ( she may not say it, but she’s sticking around, and it says a hell of a lot to him ). it’s ground he hasn’t found his footing on, yet. he wants to, though. will, if he can. eventually. he could ask for MERCY. considers that, for a second. just -- forfeit the game, throw the match. IGNITE the air between them. something holds him back; a hesitation in his idling fingers and his even breaths. for better or for worse. he’s letting the silence settle again. ( it’s almost pleasant ). a comforting quiet he’d be happy to sit in.

if they weren’t both prodding at the other.

there’s a heavy AFFECTION for all of it sitting heavily in the hollow of his chest. for the antagonizing questions and the unspoken support - for more than that, even.

❝ SEEMS LIKE. ❞

the thing holding him back isn’t preventing him from brutal honesty, at least.

❝ alright. ❞ and here’s the CHALLENGE, being spoken, formally, not hidden away - not anymore. he stretches his legs out, hands falling to rest on them - cards facing down. ( he’s not giving up yet ). ❝ out with it. ❞ he shrugs, sharp and quick. ❝ you’ve got something to say; I won’t BITE. ❞ the words are honest, too. it’s an open offer. ❝ ...might even answer any questions you’ve got. or accept some SCATHING REMARKS. dealers choice. ❞

#saraqxeen

❆. written by bones.

#dcu rp #dc rp #the flash rp #indie rp #;; LOL JK now I'm back

saraqxeen:

There it was. The honesty that fled his lips with as little effort as lacing up an untied shoe required && yet there was M O R E. Leonard was hardly the man to contradict himself — to open up — but when he did, even in the most subtle of ways, he let go of some of the most D A M A G I N G portions of himself. Remains of a person he thought he’d hollowed out long before he became the COLD HEARTED criminal he swore so solemnly that he was. Something of a shell of a man — SHATTERED before her like a piece of precious China strewn across a concrete floor — was all he wanted to be but it was everything he WASN’T. The undying, unconventional, care for a man that nobody understood was a sign that most denied him the right of. More so, that most refused to acknowledge when breathing in the entirety of the man known as LEONARD SNART.

STILL it wasn’t her place to push && as the cards riffled between forefinger && thumb she found herself choking on the words she’d swallowed not fifteen minutes prior. A conversation piece for another opportune time, perhaps while over something a bit more than the deck of poorly shuffled playing cards && silence. Something the shifting of both atmosphere && air told her. PROMISED her. ❝ Are you going to keep T A L K I N G like you’ve already won or are you going to play your HAND, Leonard? ❞ The quip, a tease, played from her lips in almost too harmonious of a tone before the ridge of her index flicked back the starting card in her pile. BULLSHIT. A game fitting for the two of them, yet she couldn’t bring herself to draw the first lie from the roof of her mouth. BULLSHIT. But not because of the cards. Because she’d never seen someone pretend so heartily that he was so well put TOGETHER, even when the world knew otherwise. Aside from her. Aside from Oliver. He was an anomaly all on his own. There was no need for a CARD GAME filled with a lie to know that one was sitting right before her. ❝ —— BULLSHIT. I thought the point of this game was to bring your POKER FACE, not lose it the moment we started playing. ❞

❝ who’s to say I HAVEN’T? ❞

well, he hasn’t. ( probably won’t, actually, with the way his mind is shooting off in five hundred different directions every time he opens his mouth ) he knows it, she knows it, anyone peeking in would know it. he catches his lower lip, thinking. one card tumbles, Len tossing it into the space between them deftly. not a winning card, or a bluff - just a regular old MOVE, getting the game started. probably. unless they find another tangent, which seems likely, and maybe it’s a little bit because of the CHALLENGE he finds when he meets her eyes. ( this time ) he doesn’t look away so quickly. he can’t fathom much from her expression - or not as much as he’d like - but it doesn’t unsettle ( or frighten ) him. && YET - wasn’t so long ago, he looked at an OLD FRIEND - looked him straight in the eyes, and couldn’t understand a single damn thing about him anymore.

( and he has to wonder - MARVEL - at the fact that Sara seems genuinely invested in the outcome of him && MICK ). it’s weird, not only finding himself on this team, but actually trying to be part of it. he makes a face, breaking eye contact to ACTUALLY pay attention to his hand for a second.

❝ COULD be leading you in circles. getting you where I need you. ❞

he gestures with his free hand; her turn. ❝ besides, pretty sure I haven’t BROKEN yet. you’re going to have to try harder. we could always keep talking about things in the past, or we could play.❞ and if she’s SMART, she’ll recognize his challenge. or permission. something that has a little bit of an edge to it. whichever one it is... he’s not entirely sure. doesn't really want to know. it’s a strange && unsettling vulnerability. ( there’s a lot of that happening, lately ).

#;; SHH ITS OKAY I MEAN I KIND OF #;; had a weird hiatus so don't even worry sdkhsdghkdsg #;; hello i'm back!!!#saraqxeen

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saraqxeen:

AVOIDING the topic of discussion has always been something he’d had over her. He’d done so in a way that screamed perfected MASTERY that it was hard to know where to begin && where to q u i t. ❝ That would imply you’ve won a game before —— ❞ A smirk, one that dances across her features as she shuffles her cards in order, could be seen for miles. The only reaction he was able to get out of her before watching it q u i c k l y fade away underneath the mask she’d unknowingly put back up. Emotionless, COLD, just like the hesitation to let go of something he needed to hear. Well, from someone OTHER than Ray && the goon squad two decks above them. The funny thing is, she almost DIDN’T let it fall away, but if there was one thing she’d learned about the man of frozen EMOTION himself, it was that pushing would run you into a wall made of ICE. One he harbored all too closely to his h e a r t. ❝ —— WITHOUT cheating. Or without the use of DISTRACTIONS. ❞

❝ seems like you’re not considering OTHER games. ❞

he waits, coy and closed-off. she makes a CONTRADICTION of him when he’s at his best with ease, and right now he’s somewhere below that ( but not quite at his worst ). everything they do is a game of wits. of action and reaction. he loves it. he’s settling in, their space SAFE and quiet. even with her prodding. his own smirk is less ephemeral, fixed in place instead. it’s a little brittle at the edges, sure ( don’t push too hard and don’t dare make a single misstep, but it’s an invitation, a small apology ) but it’s there. ❝ not sure i CAN. ❞

and his hands tap at his cards quickly because that was a little TOO much honesty. he’d felt bad, let down his guard just a little, and ( remember? ) there it is, there’s the reason why he doesn’t do that. ( and if the only thing he feels is a little uncomfortable, not angry -- he’ll think about that later ).

time for another change of topic.

❝ gonna keep DELAYING, or are you afraid of LOSING? ❞

#saraqxeen #;; im so late im so sorry dgkhdsgsdg

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agentxiii:

One SIGNIFICANT note to keep in mind about working in the field of espionage was that the job required an agent to be available at ANY given hour, no matter if it were night or day. To be ready to leave at a MOMENT’S notice and, without fail, arrive at a debriefing location in a timely fashion so that the actual assignment could be COMPLETED. Without knocking, the soles of boots THUNDER across the threshold and main living area space of a certain CRIMINAL’S home as though it were her very OWN, pausing only momentarily so that sharp eye contact can be made. ❛ You, me - my car. NOW. ❜

@coldfated is on a new mission !!!

❝ DO I HAVE TO? ❞ his voice echoes in the mostly empty apartment, one hand lifting in a sardonic wave ( no hello, please, thanks? he’s offended ) as he stares at the ceiling. his words would be more PETULANT if he’d put the effort in, but she woke him up. from the first sleep he’s had in a few days. he’s too irritated to be FUNNY. ❝ care to fill me in on the RUSH, or should i assume you’re being chased? ❞

#agentxiii #;; !!!!!