#moriavis

[qlala]

For the fic ask: I need to know the scene for those three words over even "I love you", obviously.

oh I absolutely know this one! 

that whole fic was written around the moment that Leonard pulls the cold gun on Barry to try to get him to leave, and Barry says something like “I won’t let him hurt you, either.*” And then Leonard turns sharply away and slams the gun down on the workbench, and Barry hesitantly touches his shoulder, and Leonard just grabs him and kisses him instead. 

my second answer is that I just really, really needed to write a fic where, after Barry called him “Lenny” in front of Lewis, Leonard was like ‘oh good! we’re all going to die.’ and I think that’s still reflected in the summary! Family of Rogues was really a gift and Barry calling him “Lenny” in that scene is really just *chefs kiss* peak dumbass

*I said ‘something like’ to appear casual but this is the exact line skdjgslkgj I absolutely know this fic by heart 

[ao-anonymousobsesser]

From that drabble meme: 93 -- coldflash!

For @moriavis -- thanks for the ask! I’ve never done one of these, so I hope it’s good! Thanks!

550 words

93. “I’m telling you. I’m haunted.”

Cisco just stared at him.

“I know!” Barry exclaimed. “I have no idea!”

The speedster ran a hand through his hair and started pacing like a crazy person, frantic and anxious.

“So, it’s almost Christmas,” he began, “and you know how it gets.” He gestured around them, to his apartment, which, as it did every year, looked like a tornado hit. A sigh. “First, it was just little things moving around that I know I didn’t move. And when I had a bad night, I woke up and the coffee pot was already on. And then when I went to make hot chocolate, all my mini—”

He stopped. Turned. Looked toward the kitchen.

“—marshmallows,” he continued slowly, holding a finger up to his mouth when Cisco shot him a look before pointing down the hall, “were gone.” He stepped in the direction of the light clanking noise. “Like, the whole bag, gone.”

The clanking paused, and Barry quickly rounded the corner, on the defensive. His eyes immediately fell on the high-tech gun lying across his island table, and his posture relaxed.

“Hello, Scarlet,” his boyfriend drawled as green eyes met ice-blue. “Cisco.”

“Cold,” the engineer greeted stiffly.

“Len,” Barry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “How did you even get in here?”

“Window.”

“I live on the fourth story.” Len just gave him a look, and he sighed again. “I guess that explains it.”

The man’s head tilted as he leaned against the island. “Explains what?”

Cisco scoffed, throwing his hands up and heading for the door. “Y’all have fun with that one. I’m out.”

As soon as the door closed, Len relaxed from the cool persona and smirked as his boyfriend shifted nervously. He moved to stand in front of the speedster, hands planting themselves on the man’s waist.

“Explains what, Barry?” he asked.

“Uh,” he said. “Really, it’s nothing—”

He stepped back, clearly not thinking, and Len moved with him. Then his back was against the wall, and there was no chance of escaping without his speed, which he couldn’t use with the other man so close.

“Is it?” Len hummed, eyes narrowed. “Why so flushed, then, Barry?”

“No reason…”

“Hmm.”

Barry broke after five seconds of being under that stare. “Okay,” he blurted, “maybe I thought I was haunted, because I knew I locked the door and the windows, and it’s not like there were any huge signs that someone had been in here, and why would I just automatically assume that my boyfriend was—”

Len chuckled—almost a full-blown laugh—and cut his ramble off with a kiss that quickly turned heated.

A moment later, when they broke away, both breathing heavy, Len smirked.

“Why would you have automatically assumed that your boyfriend, the master thief, was picking the lock on the window to your fire escape and organizing your disaster of an apartment?” he drawled, voice lazy with sarcasm and snark even as he looked at him with an innocent expression. “Aww, you wound me.” He paused almost put out. “What gave me away?”

Barry rolled his eyes, arms winding around his neck. “I should have known by the mini-marshmallows.” He grinned, leaning in for another peck. “Thanks for the coffee, Len.”

“You’re welcome, Scarlet.”

[dcmultiversity]

Mick didn't want to have feelings, but he was stuck with them anyway.

A remix of Indigo by Meht (Themisto)

Fandom: Legends of Tomorrow Rating: General audiences Pairing: Ray Palmer/Mick Rory

Sara tied her hair back into a long ponytail and raised a hand, silencing the discussion going on around her.  "It's 1973," she said. "Even if we're looking at technology from the future, getting it back shouldn't be that much of a problem for people like us."

Mick grunted and drank his beer, watching Sara from the corner of his eye. It made her sigh and turn her attention to Mick.

Read Kiss You Again (The Between the Bars Remix) by Moriavis on AO3.

[juniwonderlandart]

‘ "Barry." Hal sighed, loud and long. "Please tell your creepy sugar daddy that we're just friends?" ‘ Inspired by ‘A Mutual Understanding’ from Moriavis https://archiveofourown.org/works/10578696

My version is a bit more extreme xD

[qlala]

moriavis said: Writing prompt! Coldflash and...wine? Good luck with your packing!

thank you!! (for the packing luck and the prompt tbh). I give you: coldflash + wine

***

Someone set a perilously full glass down onto the green felt surface in front of Len, startling him from his thoughts and making the dealer snap a reminder about keeping drinks off the table.

The wine was a cheap trick; Len was more insulted that someone had bothered trying it on him than anything else. It was either drugged, or meant to ease him into harder liquor, or both. But Len wasn’t that stupid, and he didn’t bother even glancing at the drink.

“Think I’ll pass,” he said.

“I don’t know,” a voice—familiar, and probably not as much of a surprise as its owner thought it was—said from behind him. “You look like you could use a little chilling out.”

The line was bad enough to slip past Len’s guard and knock it loose, and it took all of his discipline not to react when Barry ghosted his fingers up his sleeve as he drew his hand back from the wine glass.

Len flattened his palm over his cards before turning. He cased Barry with a quick once-over: a black button-up, its top three buttons undone to expose just this side of too much skin; a heavy hooded jacket, also black, that Len had seen only once before; and messily styled hair that gave Barry a dark, fucked-out look that was at least as distracting as the trace of gloss on his bottom lip.

Len managed to recover his voice, but kept it low as he drawled: “Didn’t expect you to be joining us, Sam.”

Barry’s answering grin was quicksilver, a sharp flash of teeth and a conspiratorial glint in his eyes. Ridiculously pleased that Len had remembered his faux-criminal alter-ego from the diamond heist. “And let you play without your good luck charm?” he asked. He gave him a distinctly un-Barry pout, and Len barely restrained his gaze from tracking the play of light off his lower lip. “You should’ve called.”

The mischief in Barry’s gaze shifted into something a little more accusing, a genuine reprimand underneath the act. Then Barry caught his slip, remembering their audience, and reached out to touch him again.

Len tried to warn him off with a sharp glance at the offending hand, but Barry ignored him and traced his fingers over the edge of his jacket’s collar.

Len had to press his palm a little harder to the table to keep himself from knocking the touch away. He could sense eyes on them now. Obviously, Barry didn’t understand the risks involved in playing an angle he couldn’t sell. It wasn’t that Barry couldn’t hold his own against any of the other men in the room, dangerous as they may have been; Len just didn’t need a diplomatic incident if one of them tried to claim what Barry was clearly here to offer.

So he kept his shoulders relaxed and took his time bringing his gaze up to Barry’s face again, making it clear to the others with a tilt of his head that he’d decided to tolerate the behavior.

The haughty set of Barry’s jaw told him he thought he was being clever, and Len wanted badly to drag him from the room and explain how completely he’d just fucked his entire plan for the night.

If he’d been improvising, a speedster might’ve been helpful to have in his back pocket. But Len had planned the preparations for the evening down to the half-second, and a certain interfering metahuman hadn’t factored in. Barry introduced new variables, many of which Len couldn’t control for in the time he had left. He’d also brought himself, more liability than ally, completely oblivious to the danger he currently posed to himself, to Central, and (most importantly) to Len.

Ignoring his obvious annoyance, Barry ducked his head in close to speak to him over the babble of unfriendly voices around them. Len didn’t flinch at the invasion of his personal space, but the first brush of Barry’s mouth against his ear, his lips slightly sticky from the gloss, wrested a hard blink from his otherwise ironclad control.   

“You didn’t really think I’d let you lose control of Central in a game of chance?” Barry asked.

He sounded too cocky by half, and the smile in his voice was a sure indication that he had no idea how neatly he’d just endangered everyone he cared about.

Len closed his hand over Barry’s belt buckle as he tried to draw back, startling him into stillness.

“First of all,” he said, dropping the drawl enough to let the anger behind his words bleed through, “Poker is a game of skill. Not chance.” He could feel where his knuckles were pressed to Barry’s lower stomach that he’d stopped breathing, and he leveled him a knowing look under his lashes. “Second of all”—he curled his fingers tighter, relishing the bite of the cold metal and the touch of color in Barry’s cheeks—“I’m not gonna lose.”

[empathieves]

7, 15, 17 for the ask meme, please!

7. What's your favorite way to travel? Is there a mode of travel you haven't done that you want to experience?

i'll be real i love a nice train. but like, a sleeper compartment. hell yeah. second fave is car (but specifically road trips, let me vibe out)

15. What's a piece of advice you find yourself giving a lot?

'maybe write out what you're feeling so you're clear on what's upsetting you before you do anything about it'

the power of venting your shit and also clarifying your own thoughts at the same time should not be underestimated. if you're mad, make sure you know a) why you're mad and b) if you actually should be

17. Do you believe in luck and superstition? Do you carry any lucky items or follow any lucky rules?

honestly i do! i think it's human nature to attribute happenstance to luck and i think it's fun to lean into it as long as it's not hurting anyone. i sometimes use a coin to make decisions and i absolutely have avoided courses of action because of like, a bad feeling. i also have a pair of lucky socks.

[scheherezhad]

For the question meme! One question for each section. 2, 4, 10, 2

❤️

A2. How did you find your first fic? In ye olden days of 1999, just about when I turned 16, I had my first bit of fairly unmonitored internet access. Having been introduced by a friend not long before to the fact that you could find websites about books and shows you liked, I naturally searched up my two favorite anime series at the time, Ronin Warriors and Slayers. The Anime Web Turnpike (or Anipike) was the hugest collection of links around for anime fan sites back in the day when pretty much everything was on somebody’s personal domain or a free website host and there was basically no such thing as centralization.

So as I crawled links for Ronin Warriors webpages, I began to see more and more fic sites for this thing they labeled “yaoi.” After clicking through splash pages and secret links that warned for the m/m that awaited me beyond, lying that I was 18+ to see this inexplicably forbidden adult content, I found all these little personal and group archives of stories where the boys! were in relationships! with each other! (Please, dear younger readers, read that bit again and try to understand how much things have changed in 20 years that we no longer feel a need to warn for queer relationships just for existing even if it’s G rated.) At the time, I was a voracious reader of romance novels; I went to the used bookstore often because I read piles upon piles of the damn things, the smuttier the better. But suddenly, here is a different kind of romance! And I can read it for free when I can get on someone’s dial-up internet!

So anyway, I don’t remember exactly what the first one I read actually was, but it was definitely gay Ronin Warriors.

B4. Who is your current favourite author? What is their best story? Hmmm, can I say you, because I can occasionally weasel you into writing me Memir/Bele? I’m not “in” any particular fandom these days due to being obsessed with these idiots and the fact that modern fandom is shitty and lonely when one has never adapted to the post-LJ/DW landscape. I do not feel connected to anyone outside of my friend group, and even that ends up being a little spotty in the fandom sense, since it’s less common for me to have a shared media interest with anyone that we both want to read and/or create for. Anyway, best story is The Break-up of the Ice because I still lol about all the people who felt so betrayed at the end even though it was literally their own faults for not believing you when you said it would not be a happily-ever-after. (It is also a genuinely good fic, but I will never not laugh about that. XD)

C10. What book could you just never get into, no matter how hard you tried? Whatever the first book of The Raven Cycle is. I tried, like, three times to read it and was just so goddamn bored I couldn’t even make it halfway in. (As opposed to a certain other series that got popular around the same time, and I hate-read the whole thing because I thought it was fucking awful and I could not wrap my head around why people liked it, so I kept hoping it would get better but it did not.)

D2. Who/Where did you get your last fic rec from? I honestly have no idea? I mostly don’t see recs anymore because I don’t run in circles where people still do this, and again, I don’t have much in the way of shared fandoms these days. I’m also a picky bitch and have frequently been disappointed by things that other people hype up to me. I’ve kind of grown to prefer having little to no outside input about fic and media before I go in, so that I won’t be upset and disappointed when I end up not liking it as much as whoever recced it to me did.

[sproutwings]

Coldflash or coldwestallen: 'A Rain that Grows Flowers'

(When I saw the prompt, I had a massive ‘Les Misèrables’ flashback. I was very pleased when I googled the line to find out that it actually came from a quote that had nothing to do with someone bleeding out in the arms of their love interest. Because that would have been too depressing. :D)

A Rain that Grows Flowers

"Another attempt to appeal to my better nature, Barry? Aren't you tired yet of getting frozen out?"

It's a familiar old dance, by now. Leonard doesn't bother looking up, pretending to busy himself smoothing out the papers on his desk that got ruffled by the gust of air following the Flash's entrance. The less attention he gives Barry, the more likely it is that he'll figure out fast that this is a pointless venture. At least in theory.

"I figured I'd wear you down eventually," Barry says, too cocky by far, stepping closer.

He sits down on the edge of the desk, planting that perky ass in tight red leather right on top of Leonard's blueprints of the sewer network underneath Central City National Bank.

Really, now?

Leonard gives him a withering look.

"You wanna try my patience, Barry, you won't like the outcome. You should know by now that I'm more likely to freeze a problem than to give in."

He makes the warning sound sharp and cold and confident with the implication that Barry's bids have no effect, that Leonard's never wavered when faced with Barry's heartfelt appeals and those lovely green eyes giving him imploring looks. That he didn't have to force himself to turn away and walk out of the West home when Barry said, 'Help me stop them,' after Leonard paid him a visit to warn him about Mardon and Trickster.

The mask he puts on is good enough to fool Barry. His shoulders slump and he looses the boldness, awkwardly rubbing his neck. "Look, Snart, we really need your help this time. Cisco can't—"

Leonard cuts him off before he can tell him more about the woes of Team Flash. "I don't care about your little friends, Barry."

As soon as the words are out, he instantly realises that he made a mistake and revealed much more than he wanted. Worse, judging by the way Barry's eyes narrow and surprise flashes across his features, he knows it too. And of course he presses his advantage – because Barry Allen wouldn't be Barry Allen if he stopped pushing.

"Okay. It's not really about them. I'm the one asking because I need your help."

The door is wide open for Leonard to shatter Barry's hopes with a simple, 'I don't care about you either.' It would be such an obvious response that Leonard wonders if it's a dare, or a trap. If Barry is waiting for him to say it so he could call Leonard on the lie.  

He's tempted to give it a try anyway, just to see what Barry would do.

"Please," Barry says, an undertone of desperation in his voice.

Damn him.

Anyone else, Leonard would think they were playing him. But manipulation isn't Barry's game. He doesn't need it either, not when that unabashed honesty of his is just as effective and as disarming.

Leonard puts on a sardonic smirk that he's sure looks more like a grimace. "How can I say no when you're begging so nicely?"

"For real?" Barry snorts, but underneath the amusement, there's a faint pink blush dusting his cheeks. "If I'd known that's all it takes, I would have been begging a lot sooner."

Now, that's just an invitation for innuendo. Leonard's about to give it his best shot when Barry's smile softens. "Thank you," he adds quietly.

He's too close, and his sincerity is almost unbearable. Leonard stands abruptly, the need to put some distance between them burning under his skin.

"Come on, Scarlet. Let's get this show on the road. Before I change my mind."

If he doesn't step away, he knows he'll reach out. One day, perhaps he will. Because Barry will keep pushing and pushing, and eventually, something will have to give.

Barry smiles at him, bright and hopeful and full of warmth, and Leonard knows it's only a matter of time.