#frostandleather

[stolenscarletarchive-blog]

frostandleather replied to your post:✸ (Clearly I enjoy suffering??????)

I love this so much omg. *applauds*

Thank you, thank you *bows*

[stolenscarletarchive-blog]

✸ (Clearly I enjoy suffering??????)

[My muse just dreamt that they got killed by yours. Send me ‘✸’ for my muse to wake up from their nightmare and seeing yours.  I maaay have gotten a little carried away with it oops]

He shivers under the blanket, not because he's cold but because a lurch of fear makes his stomach churn seeing his friend like this and in reality all he can do is squirm.  In his head, it was almost exactly the same as last time, but unlike this time he isn't vibrating through the floor.  And unlike last time, he can't tell if she was faking her own fear or not.  The shock of seeing ice creeping up Barry's arms was replaced with a pitying smile that makes him wonder if she planned to do this or feels bad for his fate but doesn't care enough to cry.  It doesn't matter.He's stumbling backwards, arms numb, and a mixture of fear and confusing making him need to move but unable to run."It's easier if you just let it happen."  She says.  He wants to puke.She did this.Barry breaths pained gasps before his shuffling proves stupid and he sees something on his chest.  He walked backwards, and for some reason didn't stop when icicles pierced his back and slowly drove through and out his chest like a knife cutting through warm butter.The next thing he knows, she's right in front of him, cupping his cheeks and giving him that pitying smile again.  The blood on her hands is his this time.The room had been dimly lit in his head.  It was darker in reality, but soon enough his eyes focused on the face in front of his.  She was still there.  Barry's feet scrambled for purchase on the mattress and he shoved himself back at an angle, frantically trying to keep from her deadly finger tips.  He sits up just a bit too slow for the rest of his movement and the back of his head and his left shoulder knock into the wall.He can't see her expression clearly enough to know what she's thinking, but the dull pain of hitting a hard surface that was absent in his sleep is confusing him more.  She turns on the bedside lamp in time to catch her friend's stiff jaw and fearful eyes.She wasn't smiling, and Barry was no longer dreaming, Frost was no longer killing him."Barry?"He doesn't mean to search her face for signs of that obnoxious pity, but he does it anyway.  Empathy was not the same thing, and that and confusion were all he was getting from her.  He slumped against the wall, his body going slack as he let go of the fear."I'm ok."He never was good with nightmares.

[ask-reverb]

@frostandleather

Running and hiding were getting old. He wasn’t used to acting like that anymore. He wanted to be doing. To fill the power vacuum and do it better. He knew he could have a smooth enterprise at his fingertips, but he couldn’t do it on his own. It was time to let a few people know that he wasn’t dead on the floor of a warehouse, but very much ready to kick some ass.

He started by tracking down Frost. She was a wild card, but powerful and now, mostly on her own if the rumors he’d caught were true. So he staked out a place he’d seen her a few times and waited in the shadows. When he spotted her, he emerged and smiled thinly at her,

“Hello, Killer. How’s tricks?”

[stolenscarletarchive-blog]

Nightmare!

[Send “nightmare” + a url and I’ll write a drabble of a nightmare my muse has involving that character.]

It’s cold, but not enough to make him shiver.  Frost says something next to him, but it goes in one ear and out the other as if she never spoke at all.  Barry’s head is clouded, leaving sound muffled as if he were underwater.

Despite his curiosity, he doesn’t look around the room.  As if he already knows what he’ll find.

A flash of light- and suddenly he’s turned to face his friend, who is looking at him with shock and wide eyes.  He scares her, he thinks.

But that wasn’t right.  Barry looks down at himself, at his hands.  They’re drained of color.  He squeezes his eyes shut, fear bubbling in his core.  When he looks again there’s blood.  It’s not his own.  It’s not hers either.  He feels recognition, like he knows instinctively who’s it is.

It’s on her hands too.  She’s afraid of them both, maybe.

Barry is too.

She reaches for him, and he doesn’t hesitate to take her hand.  He doesn’t feel the touch.  He sees the panic on her face, a scream ready to rip from her throat.  She jerks her hands back like it burned.

His arms ache.  He’ll heal, he knows he will.  He tells himself that, but moving is getting harder.  The ground feels unstable.  He’s vibrating.

They’re not in control- neither of them are in control.  They’re bodies are self-destructing.  Ice creeps up Frost–Caitlin’s arms, making her shiver violently, gasping at the shock.  Barry can’t control his movements, he thinks he might fall through the floor if he moves an inch.

He does.

She reaches for him, but it doesn’t matter.  Neither of them are going to make it.  They’re not in control.

[stolenscarletarchive-blog]

™

Send ™ if you think I’m quality

Why thank you!

[stolenscarletarchive-blog]

❗️

[❗️for an urgent text]

[text|Frosty]: I need your help.  Answer your damn phone.

[itsnotthesuit]

🌸🌸 THIS IS A TUMBLR HUG! PASS IT ON TO 10 OF YOUR FAVORITE FOLLOWERS AND DON'T BREAK THE CHAIN! HAVE A LOVELY DAY! 🌸🌸 ❤❤

Thank you so much! That’s incredibly sweet! 

[stolenscarletarchive-blog]

🌸🌸 THIS IS A TUMBLR HUG! PASS IT ON TO 10 OF YOUR FAVORITE FOLLOWERS AND DON'T BREAK THE CHAIN! HAVE A LOVELY DAY! 🌸🌸 ❤❤ (You can totally break the chain, you've gotten loads)

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