#storyborn

[writelikeyouarerunningoutof]

@storyborn | continued from here.

[ text: Aaron ] Yeah? [ text: Aaron ] You promise?

[trcstme]

@storyborn

Sarah's never really had a plan for her life, but she's pretty sure this isn't how her twenties were supposed to go.

Things had actually been going pretty well, her life was the closest to normal that it's ever been. Until the particle accelerator exploded and the bottom dropped out from under her.

Nine months ago she was a dean's list student, had a great apartment downtown that she and her roommate had gotten for a steal, and she was in love with the awkwardly charming guy she'd met in her forensic science elective two years prior. Things had been great. Beyond great. It's probably the happiest Sarah has ever been.

Then S.T.A.R. Labs imploded and Central City fell into disarray. Now she's falling behind in her classes, she's working a second job at a frozen yogurt shop to try to scrounge up an extra grand a month because her roommate skipped town, and her boyfriend has been in a coma for nine months. And she's still, somewhat foolishly, holding out hope that he's going to wake up even though the doctors said his chances weren't good.

She had been outside of S.T.A.R. Labs when the accelerator malfunctioned. She was supposed to be inside with Barry and Iris, but she'd been cramming for an exam and lost track of time. She walked away from the event with minimal injuries, making her luckier than most. But she didn't walk away completely unscathed.

Ever since the explosion her body has been changing, in that she can take on other peoples' appearances, sometimes without even trying to. It's freaky, and she knows there's something really wrong with her. But she doesn't know how to tell anyone without sounding crazy. It does have some upsides, though. Upsides she's not entirely proud to take advantage of. But that doesn't mean she's not considering it.

She's spent a lot of years trying not to be her father's daughter, to forget what he taught her. But it'd be so easy, to run a scam or rob a bank and get off scot-free because she'd be wearing someone else's face. She doesn't really want to do it, but she's got two more semesters of college to pay for and she's getting a little desperate.

She's snapped out of her shame induced spiral, catapulted from the thought process of convincing herself that there are other ways to get the money she needs, by the sound of the bell clanging above the door as she pulls down a new box of m&ms from a stockroom shelf. "Just a second!"

[hopeturned]

@storyborn liked for a one-liner!

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling as if a hammer was colliding with skull. Why now? Why couldn't this wait until he'd properly woken up?

[moonsmilcd]

@storyborn for Theo

"Thanks for coming over. Em was telling me how much xe missed hanging out with Lily. I hope Lily has just as much fun hanging out with xer."

[yourturntowalk]

Continued | @storyborn

[ text ] : fine [ text ] : this big boy is bored and horny [ text ] : come find a way to make my night less boring

[livesaved]

@storyborn ; continued from here

[ ✉︎ ➜ atty cake ] it's definitely a problem! [ ✉︎ ➜ atty cake ] if someone notices and asks why i'm blushing [ ✉︎ ➜ atty cake ] what am i supposed to say?

[goldenandvoid]

@storyborn For Lexie

Bob sat there, plastic chair squeaking under his weight every time he shifted, watching Alexei’s chest rise and fall in that slow, sedated rhythm. The IV drip made its little plink-plink sound, and the heart monitor beeped like it was keeping time with some song only machines could hear. They told him to go get coffee—take a break, clear his head—but the cafeteria only had that burnt swill in a styrofoam cup, and Bob was not about to drink black coffee like some kind of wartime commando. He needed something with whipped cream and caramel drizzle, maybe those little rainbow sprinkles that made him feel like a kid at a birthday party. So he stayed.

And staying meant sitting. And sitting meant boredom, the kind that gnawed at his fingers and made his leg bounce.

He started humming under his breath, then tapping his knuckles against his thigh. Then he looked at the monitor, that steady green blip, and thought: I can do that. So he did. He leaned forward, sucked in a breath, and let out a low, chesty boom-boom from the back of his throat, matching the rhythm.

Beep went the machine.

Boom-boom went Bob.

He tried a lower note next, rumbly like a bass drum in a parade that was too far away. Then a higher one, squeaky and thin, like a mouse trying to be intimidating. He didn't even notice when he started stringing them together, one after another, chasing the beeps like he was in some kind of weird musical duel with a box of electronics.

"Ccc..." he murmured, and the monitor answered: Beep.

"D..." Beep.

"E..." Beep.

"F..." Beep.

"G..." Beep.

He stopped. His mouth hung open, and he listened to the echo of his own voice hanging in the sterile air.

"...That's actually kinda nice," he said, mostly to himself, a goofy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He looked at Alexei's sleeping face, half-expecting a thumbs-up or a sarcastic groan, but the guy was out cold. Bob shrugged, leaned back in his squeaky chair, and started humming the scale again—just a little louder this time, just for himself, because nobody else was gonna appreciate his hospital-room concerto anyway.

[ruralmcd]

@storyborn asked: [ 📲 • sms ] —— i gave you my number so you could text me punk 😛 (hazel)

[sms] Sorry. [sms] Kind of passed out as soon as I got home.