#muns fics

[ask-ph-cheryl]

{{ I wrote a fic based on my and @franks-mixtape current interaction because we all know Frank is not going to hold his end of the bargain, and Cheryl Isnt Allowed To Have Nice Things

{{ Mind the tags <3 but check out the fic HERE

[fxckinginsaneinthebrain]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[revivedlegend]

Frost

Send In A Word, And I’ll Write A Drabble Or Starter Based On It // Selectively Accepting

          The cold seeps into the fabric of her pants but she doesn’t care. She’s been numb for a long while now.

         It’s rare, these trips back to 2016. Most of the time, Sara really only drops in on to check on her father. Occasionally, she goes to see Oliver and Felicity and everyone else but…mostly? It’s just her and her sister.

         Or…well, the cold, clinical engravings of her sister’s name on stone.

         God, she can see this tombstone in her nightmares. Well, when she actually sleeps. She rarely does these days. But most of her dreams and nightmares alike are filled with Laurel. Her big sister. The one who had encouraged her to go on this god forsaken mission in the first place.

         The snow around her doesn’t spur Sara back to the Waverider, as it should’ve. In fact…it just makes everything hurt more. Because Laurel isn’t the only person she’s lost. Like a one two punch. Leonard than Laurel. One goodbye kiss, one goodbye never uttered. 

         But the two deaths share one thing in common: Sara should’ve been the one to die in both of their steads. 

         Not to look down on the gift of second life Laurel has bestowed upon her but…she shouldn’t even be here to mourn them. She should’ve been the one to destroy the Occulus. She should’ve died defending Star City from Darhk.

         Should, should should…All Sara has is the here and the now. The engraving of her sister’s name and the cold, unforgiving snow.

         It’s several more moments before she speaks aloud, removing a glove from her hand and moving to etch words in the frost on Laurel’s tombstone. “I know you never met him, Laur, but…he was a good guy,” Sara remarked to the snow and the stone, admiring her work. Leonard Snart stood out against the snow, Sara having cleared a path with her finger off to the side of the more permanent Dinah Laurel Lance. 

         She pauses, a light smile on her face. “Well, not a good guy, not really. Then again…I’m not exactly a good guy either. But he…he was smart. Street smart and book smart and a damn good tactician. And he was…he was funny. Dry humor, puns…you probably would’ve just rolled your eyes at him.”

         Her smile falls slightly and she sighs, eyes trained on the snowy ground beneath her. Her legs have gone numb…just like she has been on the inside for months now…if not years. “…He’s got a sister too. A not so little little sister, like me. Never met her and I don’t think she’d like to see me now but…she’s alone too. Like me. And I gotta wonder if Lisa Snart is out there…just…just wondering what would happen if it had been her instead…I wonder that every day, Laurel.”

         A pause, tears stinging the back of her eyes. “…You never did get a funeral, Leonard,” she muses softly, finger reaching out to add more words beneath his name. “No body to bury but, hell, we didn’t have Carter’s body. I guess…I think maybe… it just hurt more, thinking about you being gone. You know I used to catch Jax sitting in the hall, just outside your room? Never went in, as far as I know. Probably didn’t want to mess anything up. Still. You deserved better. Not some…some words on a shared tombstone that’re gonna melt away soon. But…but you were a legend. A damn good one. And it’s probably no consolation but I…I’m never gonna forget you, Leonard Snart.”

         The cold is starting to burn her skin through her clothing and so she stands, offering one last melancholic smile to the tombstone before turning away.

                               Dinah Laurel Lance. 1985-2016. The Black Canary.

         And off to the side, written in the frost, not nearly as permanent but just as sentimental:

                      Leonard Snart. ? - 2016. Captain Cold. Brother. Friend. Legend.

[uncloak-and-dagger]

Preview~

//So I’m toying with the idea of this muse- He’s a Tentaspy that willingly had some very drastic splicing done to him- and I won’t say more, cause it’ll ruin the fic after~ So this is the story behind Jive the tentaspy- Enjoy.

"Jive? Jive, are you in zhere? It's me-"

The soft splash of water heralded the arrival of the tentaspy, the man's head with its special waterproof balaclava breaking the surface to look curiously at him.

"Leopold. What are you doing down here?"

"Listen, Jive. You..you need to get avay. Zhey.." The speaker, a Medic, shivered slightly. "Zhey do not approve of mein experiments." He gave a pointed look towards Jive himself, his own work. "Any of zhem."

The splice flicked his tentacles, pulling himself out of the water enough to wrap a few gently around the Medic, pulling him closer to his real arms, that wrapped around his waist from behind- a solid gesture of support and affection.

"Are they angry with you, or simply me?"

Leopold took a shaky breath, leaning back into him. "Bozh of us. Zhat's vhy I came down here- you need to leave here. Tonight."

"Tonight?" Jive shifted to look him in the face, his horizontal pupil eyes blinking slowly. "Are they going to act against you so soon?"

"Ja, I believe so." He took another breath, lifting another hand to comb through his hair and push up his small reading glasses. "Zhat's vhy I risked seeing you."

Jive let out a small breath, laying his head on the Medic's shoulder gently. "Merci. I appreciate the heads-up, amour."

"Ja, of course, liebe." He turned his head, meeting the Spy's cold lips with his own and leaning into the tentacles that gently coiled around him that much tighter to show their owner's affection. "Now. You must leave. Before zhey find I am missing."

The tenta frowned, reaching up a webbed hand to stroke his cheek. "Should you not come with me? Your life is endangered as well."

Leopold nuzzled into the contact, a sad smile camping on his face. "I'm afraid I must stay here. I vill cover your tracks."

"Amour..."

"I love you, Jive. Remember that." He disentangled himself from the tentacles with a stroke to one, the appendages parting to allow him to stand.

"Je t'aime aussi, Leopold."

Footsteps could be heard from the stairwell, and immediately, a cool expression crossed the Medic's face as he stood, hearing Jive slip near-silently back into the water behind him.

"Hallo?"

The three defense classes were quite the sight coming down the stairs like they did, but as despite his protests the Heavy bodily picked up Leopold, the Demoman outright laughing at the futility of the man's squirms. They wanted to know where Jive was- or, as they put it far more colourfully- his "monster".

"I don't make monsters, Herr."

"Then wut th' hell d'ya call th' thing down 'ere?"

"A successful experiment after over a week of effort. He is quite the marvel." Leopold smiled fondly, knowing the tenta was watching. He was very proud of his work- and of his partner for sticking it through to the end. He'd tried to keep him under as much as possible...but sometimes, it was simply too dangerous, and he would bite into a thick wad of fabric, muffling his screams. Yes, he was very proud of Jive. Apparently...the rest of their team didn't agree.

"You took a perfectly good Spy-"

"Actually, he came to me-"

"-an' turned 'im inta sum thing that 'as too many limbs, and too many teeth."

Leopold fumed quietly. For one, he had the perfect amount of limbs- for a tenta-splice. And there were the same amount of teeth in his mouth- they were simply sharper and pointed.

"Ya gotta pay, doc. We's agreed on it, an' we've decided ta get rid o' ya an' yer thing."

At that, the Medic snarled, struggling with a renewed vigour. They would not touch Jive, and he made that clear in no uncertain terms.

The tenta himself paused halfway onto land, teeth bared for a fight and claws ready to do damage.

"Jive, nein-"

The Spy promptly ignored him, hissing and flaring his tentacles to look bigger.

"You all stay away from him-"

"Strangle that too if'n ya got time."

The Engineer stood rather uncomfortably off to the side. He'd help the two out, yeah. But murder? Not his cup of tea.

The Demo dodged a swipe of the angered tentaspy's claws, grabbing his finned wrist and promptly flipping him due to his ungainly balance. Jive hissed and writhed, tentacles wrapping around the man's legs and chest, squeezing hard. He choked before the Heavy shoved Leopold at the Engineer, walking over to forcibly tear the man's extra limbs from his teammate, causing a rather inhuman cry of pain and making Jive shrink back down.

"Stop it! Stop hurting him!" Leopold thrashed, trying to get out of the third man's arms.

"Sorry, buddy, but th' team voted."

The Medic spat at him, making the man flinch. "I don't care- he's a living creature like you or me- some paltry vote should not end zhat life."

The Demo growled, leaving the Heavy to restrain the tentaspy with a heavy net nearby- used originally for catching lost objects in the base's vast pipes.

"Nein--!"

They took no heed, making sure Jive was suitably immobilized before the Demo produced a rope- tied in a noose, to Leopold's horror. They set it up, a low-lying beam serving as a gallows as they forced the noose around his neck, the Heavy lifting him high enough in the air to simulate a block.

"NON!" Jive thrashed, trying to free himself with all the considerable strength of his new form as his Medic looked over, forcing a smile.

"Ich liebe dich, mein schatz."

Jive couldn't remember whether or not they'd left him tear ducts- but his eyes were burning as if he had been crying, whispering a response as the big man dropped Leopold with no ceremony, leaving him to choke and gasp at the end of the rope, glasses crushed under the Demoman's heel.

Writhing, the splice managed to squirm free, slipping into the water and squishing into a corner, camouflaging as he heard the men above distantly curse as they trolled the depths for a while, the door slamming above causing vibrations that made the water tremble.

Finally, the half-man creature swam to the surface, too late to save his love, but not to late to honor him. He cut the rope, lowering him gently and clinging to him for dear life as he sobbed without tears, feeling the corpse grow cold under his touch.

"Je t'aime. Je...je t'aime aussi."

[uncloak-and-dagger]

Camping (Sniper/Medic)

{Now bush medicine~ I just like writing Sniper, I've found. XD I like to think I'm ok at him. XD Okay so another shortie- I love fussy Medic, so here. X3} "I don't know how jou talked me into zhis, but don't expect me to sleep on zhe /ground./" Sniper sighed. "Doc, this was /your/ idea." "Jou suggested it first." Medic pouted, drawing his pristine coat around him with a finalized huff. "I mentioned campin' out in the outback and how relaxing it was, so yew told me ta take yew out campin'. And here we are." Sniper rubbed the bridge of his nose before replacing his sunglasses, hands still on the wheel. "And we wouldn't be sleepin' in a tent unless ya wanted to. We'll sleep in 'ere." Medic viewed the small back of the camper with trepidation. "...Vill ve fit back zhere?" Sniper saw his chance- and he /never/ let chances slip by. "If we're /really/ close together...." He smirked, looking over at the German. "Usually just fits me, but oi can move over." The doctor saw the chance he'd run with and sighed, giving him a small smile to show there was no malice behind it. "Ach, vhat are ve to do? It sounds almost like ve have to be...as close as possible." He sidled a bit closer on the bench seat as he spoke, wrapping his coat even closer to cover the movement. Sniper grinned openly and threw his arm on the back of the bench seat, hand conveniently resting on the Medic's shoulder to pull him into his side. "Yeah, oi guess we do have to be pretty close, eh? What a shame.." The sarcasm, he hoped, was evident, as he pecked the man's forehead. "Vell, zhere's no vone around to notice, at least.." Medic noted, his nose scrunching at the thought of the resident snooper- also known as Spy. Sniper raised an eyebrow teasingly, kissing his nose. "You sayin' ya don't wanna be seen close to me, love?" The German's eyes widened. "N-nein- I just- I-" Sniper cut him off with a soft kiss. "I'm just playin', love. Now. Howabout we go enjoy the outdoors, eh? It /is/ what we came for." Medic opened his mouth to say something about how unsanitary the woods were, but at his lover's easy, hopeful smile, he simply nodded, giving him a smile back. "I did ask for zhe full experience." "That you did, love. And oi'm gonna give it to ya."

[uncloak-and-dagger]

No Respect (SniperScout)

{A real shortie, but a cutie~ x3 I love this ship as well~~ Enjoy~ I'll be posting some different pairing fics- whatever my hands seem to type. X3 I'll come back to SniperSpy soon~} "Yo, Sniper!" The RED didn't even have to turn to know who was in the room with him- or even what colour they were. "Scout. What're yew here for?" "Nothin'." The slim weight of the boy draped on his shoulders, the Australian shifting slightly to realign his aim with the extra weight. A shot, and a scream, and the man was reloading as calmly as if he'd been doing target practice on dummies instead of real people. "Yew sure, Speedy?" "Yeah. Jus' dun wanna be out dere for a while, yannow?" Sniper took aim, killing a Heavy out of the doorway he was exiting, leaving the Medic behind him gaping before he too was a victim of the man's impeccable aim. "Yeah. Oi unda'stand. Hang out s'long as ya loike." He turned- careful of his hat- to look at the speedster, a soft smile on his grizzled features. "But y'know.. yew can't let any of my teammates see ya here." The BLU smirked, pecking his nose mischievously. "Dey won't. I'm too fast for dem, rememba?" Sniper shook his head almost fondly. "Jus' be careful out there, Speedy." "You too, old man." The Scout laughed and darted out of the way of the RED's swipe as the Sniper growled in mock irritation. "Get off wit' yew, ya bloody speedsta!" The BLU grinned widely, blowing an overly dramatic kiss. "Love ya too, Snipes!" The Sniper shook his head as the Scout flew down the stairs, turning his attention back to the window in time to see the runner touch down and immediately conk a Spy over the head, hearing his laugh from two stories up. "No respect these days," the Australian muttered, a small grin slipping out. "No bloody respect at all..."

[uncloak-and-dagger]

Comfort

{Here's another SniperSpy based on every Spy main's nightmare- @outofcharacterbirdsniper this one's to make up for the short second one~ Enjoy~} It had been a long day, in Spy's opinion, and quite frankly, he didn't have the energy nor the courage to make the trek back to the BLU base. Luckily, the Sniper's van wasn't too far. He made it to the door, only checking over his shoulder every five seconds instead of every two. It was progress. ------------- When Spy entered the camper, he looked like a wreck. His suit was smoking slightly, his cigarette was missing, and he was trembling as if freezing- though the RED knew his camper was always set to a good temperature, not to mention the desert wasn't exactly cold- even at dusk. "Spook- what happened ta ya? Ya look a trip." The Frenchman didn't make comment, simply closing and bolting the door behind him. Sniper raised an eyebrow behind his aviators, stepping forward and sliding his hands to the shorter man's hips, watching him jump and flinch for a weapon uneasily. "Spook. Spoi. What happened out there?" This time, those ice-cold eyes flickered up to the Sniper's more oceanic ones, surprisingly a bit more thawed and adrenaline-run than usual. "I..." A long, deep sigh. "I 'ad a run in wizh my 'friend' zhe Pyro." Ah. Everything was suddenly crystal-clear to the Australian, and he carefully pulled the shaking Frenchman to his chest, comfortingly rubbing his back. He may not be the best at loving-type affections, or even basic comfort, but he did know how to make the Spy relax by now. Or, more precisely: he liked to think that he could help the bloody spook stop being as uptight as he usually was and more to the 'mildly paranoid' stage. Whatever he was doing, it seemed to work, because as soon as the Spy relaxed a bit, he was carefully pushing away from Sniper and crossing the floor to curl on the bed, back comfortably toward the wall. He jumped every time his suit brushed the wood with a raspy scratch, and finally, Sniper sighed and flicked off the light, shedding his boots, vest, and headgear before cautiously approaching the bed. "Spook. C'mere a lil', will ya?" The BLU looked at him questioningly- at least, he assumed that was the look in the shadows- but moved a bit closer, still as taut as a bowstring. The Aussie did his best to feel out the bits that were just bed as he crawled over the other man, finally laying himself down with a soft sigh and wrapping an arm around the BLU Spy to pull him into his chest. "'Ey. Oi'm watchin' yer six, awlright? You don't need ta worry 'bout the firebug wit' me here." Spy twitched in surprise, relaxing almost gratefully into the broader, warm chest of the RED. He was right on one point, apparently. The spook was afraid of being snuck up on. "You can go back ta yer base in tha mornin', okay? Oi'll scope you all tha way there." Spy hummed softly, sounding already on the brink of sleep. "...Oui." A pause, and another, quieter hum. "Merci, Bushman. I believe I shall accep' your offer." "No probl'm, Spook." There was a muttered bit of French that Sniper couldn't pick out- he assumed it was some sort of 'good night', as the man's breathing evened out. The Sniper spent a few minutes just watching the Spy, smiling fondly until his own eyes fluttered shut under the weight of his own exhaustion, smile still lingering.

[uncloak-and-dagger]

The Morning After (Sniper/Spy)

{Maybe sorta sequel to Trust? Maybe? Ah, well, here we go again cause I have the tingles that mean I need to write. XD It's tiny, but here.} The first thing Sniper had learned about his sometime partner was the fact that he never stuck around. In fact, the Spy seemed to make it a habit of disappearing before Sniper woke. Either it was post-coital embarrassment, or simply a fear of being discovered- he'd never asked, and the BLU had never offered. So that's why this particular morning was special. Sniper had woken in his camper-as usual-but instead of his side tingling with the cold of sleeping alone, the small bed was not only still warm- the Spy was still there, mask not retrieved, and very much asleep. Well, he /was/ asleep. When the Sniper moved to sit up, the BLU curled in closer, mumbling something incomprehensible in French as he practically clung to the other man. "Spook." He shook the Spy's shoulder gently, a smile twitching at his lips. "Wake up, roo." Those icy blue eyes blinked open slowly, glazed from the haze of sleep, and Sniper realised for the first time the dark circles under his eyes. How many nights had he gone without sleep? "Mm....Sniper.." His attention switched back to the Frenchman in his bed as he yawned and blinked lazily. It was definitely unnerving for the Sniper- it was the first time he's wondered if anyone ever came to the camper in the morning- the man in front of him was far from alert, and unmasked to boot. "Sniper." Said man's voice grew a little bit louder, demanding attention. "Yeah, Spook?" The Aussie raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the fond smile from his face. "Mm... Bon matin..." Despite his normal scowl, the man did have a nice smile, Sniper observed, even if it was faint, and more than a bit fuzzy. Finally letting his own smile loose, he ruffled the Spy's unruly bedhead, earning a half-hearted protest. "Mornin', Spook."