#patience merlyn

[mcbenson25]

More Than He Bargained For Part 8

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Final Part

A/N: I know I said I would post more often but I decided it was becoming a lot if I kept posting in little sections so I decided to make them a loooot longer just to move things along.

Warnings: Violence, blood mentions, injury, mild language

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Eobard took a swig of water, trying to quell the anger, annoyance, and exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm him. The Earth-X situation was proving to be more of a headache than he had anticipated. The lack of patience and impulsiveness from his team was becoming a hindrance, but they were his only shot at a happy ending.

A happy ending where Barry was dead, and Eobard had you by his side. The thought brought a twisted smile to his lips, but it was short-lived as a loud beeping interrupted his thoughts.

"He's gone," the Dark Arrow announced, and Eobard tensed.

"Who? Merlyn?" he asked, unable to hide the contempt in his voice.

"The biosensor in his suit indicates his heart stopped," the Dark Arrow replied evenly, and Eobard felt a sense of resignation wash over him.

Merlyn was never strong enough to handle anything, so his demise was no surprise.

Get over it.

"He always seemed too soft to me," Eobard remarked, hoping to move past the topic and focus on the task at hand.

The room fell silent, and for a moment, Eobard thought they had moved on, but of course it was too much to hope for as the Dark Arrow spoke again.

"He died for you," he said to Overgirl with a solemn tone.

Here we go with this.

Eobard felt a wave of disgust wash over him. Merlyn's death meant nothing to him, and he couldn't understand why it would matter to anyone else.

"We will make his death worthwhile," the Dark Arrow stated with a sense of determination.

How stupid.

"That doesn't change the fact that now we're down a man," he repeated, trying to refocus the conversation on the task at hand.

Dark Arrow gave him a withering glare, clearly annoyed at the lack of respect coming from Eobard. "Keep your focus where it belongs and GET to work on locating that prism!" he growled through gritted teeth.

Oh have I hit a soft spot?

Eobard couldn't help but smile at the opportunity for confrontation. He relished the thought of punching Dark Arrow's ridiculous face. "Watch your tone," he warned, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "Or I'll watch it for you."

Dark Arrow's anger boiled over, and he stepped forward, shoving Eobard roughly against a pillar. Eobard couldn't help but grin in satisfaction, knowing that he had hit a nerve.

This was going to be good.

"Oliver!" Overgirl called out trying to diffuse the situation, but he ignored her, focused solely on Eobard. "Did you just tell me to watch my tone?" he snarled, his eyes flashing with rage.

Eobard met his gaze without fear, his wicked smile never leaving his face. "You're angry," he said in a low voice, goading him. "And I like it."

Dark Arrow pushed him further into the pillar, his fury barely contained. "Don't you mock me!" he spat.

Eobard merely chuckled. "Then do not threaten me," he taunted. "Or have you forgotten?" He vibrated his hand menacingly. "I can end your life before you even birth your next thought."

Both men stared angrily at each other waiting for the other to move when Overgirl showed up next to them.

"Try it once," "Kara" threatened, "and I break every bone in your body."

Eobard felt his hand get crushed by Overgirl and "Oliver's" arrow was uncomfortably close to his neck.

Okay maybe not the best idea.

He rolled his eyes, "Ok, we're all a little emotional. Here what I suggest," as said feeling the arrow coming closer to his throat, "I will stop vibrating my hand," he looked at "Kara", "You will stop breaking my wrist, and you," he said exasperatedly to "Oliver", "will be 10% less brooding."

"Oliver" backed away and let his arrow fall on the floor with a clang and only then did "Kara" let go of his hand.

"We accomplish nothing by arguing," Kara stated.

Eobard was annoyed again. "It's the accomplishing nothing that has me concerned." He paused taking an annoyed breath, raising his voice, "We came here to conquer this Earth, or have you forgotten?"

"Oliver" stepped in. "Locate the prism," he paused as he saw Eobard's murderous look, "please."

That's what I thought.

"Once we have identified the location of the target I will devise a plan of attack.”

Eobard was finally in agreement as he walked out.

Time to get the party started.

------------------------------

Harry sighed, his mind heavy with thoughts of the recent encounter with you. The memory of catching you flustered replayed in his mind, intensifying the beat of his heart. Seeking a distraction, he had joined Caitlin and Jax in their work lab, hoping to shift his focus to tracking down the Nazis.

Pushing up his glasses, Harry's attention was brought back to the tool he was tinkering with as Jax shared some information. "Felicity's got her friend working on Palmer Technology's spectrometry satellites," Jax said, breaking the silence.

Why don't we just use-

Caitlin finished Harry's thought. "Okay, but what about the Waverider? I mean, a time-traveling ship must have some sort of tracking technology we can use," she suggested, her voice tinged with a hint of hope.

Harry nodded in agreement. "It would help us locate these bastards a lot faster," he remarked, his determination evident in his voice.

Jax interjected, his expression perplexed. "Well, not exactly. It's in the, uh, Stone Age," he explained, scrunching up his face.

The confusion was mirrored on both Caitlin and Harry's faces. "It's literally in the Stone Age." Jax clarified, prompting Harry to let out a frustrated sigh.

Caitlin's disappointment was visible as she spoke, "Okay, well, parallel Earth jumping is kind of Cisco's specialty," her voice trailed off.

"Unfortunately, he's too busy being unconscious right now," Harry replied gruffly, his frustration seeping into his words. "I guess we're on our own.”

Just then, Professor Stein entered the lab, and Jax's face lit up. "Oh, perfect timing, man. We're trying to find the guys from Earth-X, but we're coming up with nothing," Jax shared, hoping for a breakthrough.

However, Professor Stein's expression revealed a hint of sadness as he glanced at Caitlin and Harry. "I'm sorry, could you excuse us a moment?" he requested, his tone conveying a need for privacy.

Caught in the intrigue of the unfolding situation, Harry exchanged a curious glance with Jax before focusing his attention on the professor. Something was about to transpire, and Harry couldn't help but smile curiously.

Carelessly tossing his tool aside, he remarked, "Happily. We don't want to interrupt whatever... awkward, awkward thing-," he said with an amused expression.

Caitlin, rolling her eyes in annoyance, her voice laced with exasperation. "Come on, Harry, it's not about you," she scolded, as she dragged him away from the unfolding conversation.

Yet, Harry's curiosity lingered. "-that is," he continued, his voice trailing off as Caitlin pulled him away.

---------------------------

One sheep, two sheep, three sheep...

Sitting in the cortex with Iris, you spun in the chair as Felicity frantically tried to uncover the Nazis' hiding place. Frustrated, Iris blew out a breath and questioned, "How long until you brainiacs find these Nazis?"

Felicity, visibly exasperated and annoyed, let out a sigh. "My answer hasn't changed in the two minutes since you last asked me."

You and Iris exchanged a concerned glance, sensing something was bothering Felicity. Iris quickly apologized, sitting up straighter in her chair.

Noticing the impact of her own tone, Felicity sighed and admitted, "I'm sorry. I'm dealing with some Oliver stuff," she paused, "not 'Nazis ruined the happiest day of our life' stuff, but... stuff."

You approached Felicity, sensing her distress. Memories of your earlier conversation this morning flooded back.

"Stuff. Like you're unsure about marrying him?" you asked gently, drawing closer to Felicity.

"I thought you guys said you were good?" Iris chimed in, scooting her chair closer to Felicity.

Felicity glanced at you, her eyes reflecting the vulnerability within.

"What if I lose him? I couldn't bear it. I love him too much."

You remembered your heart-to-heart talk earlier, and instinctively spoke up for her, saying, "You don't want to jeopardize the happiness you've fought so hard to build."

Felicity nodded, tears welling up. "We're just as good as we were the last time we got engaged and I got shot. That was the beginning of the end for us."

Iris let out a sigh, struggling to fully comprehend Felicity's situation, because her own relationship with Barry seemed so perfect and secure. You, on the other hand, painfully understood the complexity of Felicity's emotions, as you longed for the same sense of security with Eobard, free from worries about him or the constraints of time that seemingly never escaped you.

"I don't want to tempt fate again," Felicity's voice cracked, "you know?"

Both you and Iris enveloped Felicity in a comforting hug. In that moment, a beeping sound emerged from the computer, drawing your attention. Huddling around the screen, you asked, puzzled, "A break-in at Dayton Optical Systems?"

Iris, seemingly weary, suggested, "I know this may sound terrible, but maybe we should let the police handle it. We need our team focused on the Nazis."

Casting her a sideways glance, you couldn't help but disagree. At this point, anything could be connected to the unwelcome visitors from Earth-X

Felicity pulled up security footage and looked up, her gaze intense. "This is the Nazis."

Sighing, you swiftly began pressing buttons on the computer. "We need to inform the others. Now."

-----------------

Eobard observed with amusement as Barry walked toward Dayton Optical Systems, reveling in the sight of his confusion and apparent stupidity in trying to piece together the puzzle.

What a moron.

"Why are the Earth-Xers targeting this place?" Barry asked Arrow and Supergirl, unaware of Eobard, Dark Arrow, and Overgirl emerging from the shadows. They stood in front of them, nodding evilly.

"Because," came Dark Arrow's distorted voice, "they had something we need."

Eobard smirked as he carried the box and stood across from the Flash, slowly setting it down. Despite being mere feet away, Barry still couldn't figure out his true identity. How stupid was he? Even with his phasing abilities, was Flash really that pathetic in not being able to recognize him?

"Whatever you stole," Arrow started menacingly.

"We're gonna need it back," Barry finished, determination in his voice.

We're gonna need it back. Eobard snorted at the Flash and his pathetic group of do-gooders.

"Your confidence is predictable," Dark Arrow said, clearly amused.

I'll say.

"You've faced some of the greatest evils known to man," Dark Arrow continued, "and you've defeated them. But if you think so highly of yourselves, that you can defeat any threat that comes your way..."

There was a delicious pause as they removed their intricate gas masks, revealing themselves to Flash, Arrow, and Supergirl.

"How do you feel about us?" Dark Arrow said to his doppelgänger, wearing an evil smirk.

To say they were shocked was an understatement. Eobard relished in the stupid look of confusion on Flash's face as he glanced uncertainly at his partners.

Arrow spoke first, his disgust evident. "This is sick."

"Do you mean looking at your reflection and seeing only weakness? I agree," Dark Arrow responded.

"Thawne?" Flash said, attempting to sound unfazed, but Eobard knew the anger boiled inside him.

"Direct from Earth-1," Eobard answered with glee. "Do you like my face?" He gestured, "I was told this was much handsomer than that stupid face of Harrison Wells."

"You're demented," Flash seethed. "I watched you die."

Eobard shook his head and laughed. "Or did you? It's time travel, Barry. So very confusing. I always seem to be saying that to you, don't I?"

It was a hypocritical statement, really. Time travel was the very thing that had brought him to you, that had saved you. Why couldn't you understand that? Everything he did was for you. But he always seemed to mess it up, unable to be careful. You made him forget everything else. But that would change. He just needed to settle things with Flash first.

"Last chance," Green Arrow growled, bringing him back to the present. "Go. Home."

"And stay there," Kara said, her tone cold and resolute.

"All of you," Barry added, his expression hardened as he stared at Eobard.

Eobard smirked at him before putting his cowl back on, fully focused on going after Barry.

Oh no, Barry. Not this time.

Unfortunately, his moment of enjoyment was cut short when Overgirl was struck by a kryptonite arrow. Dark Arrow rushed to her side and yelled at Eobard, "Get the prism out of here now!"

He paused, throwing them a look. He knew the stupid man's love would get in the way. And for a brief moment, he saw you in his arms instead of Overgirl, causing him to freeze before shaking his head to clear the distraction.

He couldn't lose his focus. Not now.

---------------------

"No! Eddie! Oh my..." You heard Iris wail, her voice filled with anguish and despair, as she ran out of the cortex. Without a second thought, you chased after her, your heart pounding in your chest. What had just happened? The world around you felt hazy and disorienting as you reached Iris, who was cradling Eddie's lifeless body, tears streaming down her face. Joe, visibly shaken, repeated in disbelief, "Eddie, what did you do? What did you do?"

A heavy silence hung in the air as you locked eyes with the Reverse Flash, Eobard, the love of your life. Anger surged through your veins, a tempest of emotions ready to be unleashed. You wanted to scream at him, to slap him, to blame him for all of this.

Barry stood nearby, a mix of confusion and shock etched on his face. His voice trembled as he asked, barely able to catch his breath, "What's happening?"

"Cisco, help me," came Eobard's distorted voice, a sickening feeling spreading within you. Deep down, you already knew the truth, the devastating reality that was unfolding before your eyes.

Cisco's voice broke through the tension, his words heavy with realization. "Eddie is his ancestor. If Eddie dies, he'll never be born, and..." His voice trailed off as the weight of the situation settled in.

"He's being erased from the timeline," you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. The man who professed his love to you was being wiped from existence. You looked at Eobard, a mixture of sadness and disbelief in your gaze.

Why?

Why wasn't I enough?

Eobard locked eyes with you, tears glistening in your eyes as they spilled down your cheeks. The depth of his remorse was evident in his face. He desperately tried to reach out to you, but he was met your tear-filled eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice filled with regret and sorrow. The transformation on his face from Wells' features to the one you had fallen in love with only intensified your pain. "I'm so sorry."

Your legs gave way beneath you, and you collapsed to your knees, the sound of Iris screaming Eddie's name echoing in your ears.

Eddie was gone.

Eobard watched your trembling form, consumed by sobs, unable to face him, and something within him shattered. He had never wanted to inflict such heartache upon you. He realized he was the cause of your pain, your suffering. It was a burden he could never forgive himself for carrying.

Turning his gaze toward Barry, who was still in a state of shock, Eobard's eyes filled with a burning intensity. Barry would pay for this. He would pay for this irreparable pain that he had caused. Eobard vowed to find a way back, a path to end Barry's life and find a way back to you.

But for now, he would leave haunting parting words. "I've controlled your life for so long, Barry. How will you get along without me?"

------------------

Your head throbbed with a pulsating ache, each beat echoing the chaos that had consumed your life. Nazis, doppelgängers, the unsettling sight of Kara and Oliver united in marriage on Earth-X, kryptonite arrows, the looming threat of neutron bombs... It was an overwhelming torrent of events that battered your senses relentlessly.

Make it stop.

Please, make it all stop.

Amidst the chaos, Harry attempted to explain the mind-boggling vastness of the multiverse to Alex. His voice carried a weight of solemnity as he delved into the intricate web of parallel worlds and the existence of countless doppelgängers.

"There are 53 Karas out there, just as there are 53 Kryptons and 53 Earths," Harry explained, his words hanging in the air like an enigmatic puzzle waiting to be solved.

Weary and drained, you glanced up at Harry, and in that moment, your eyes met his. His comforting smile offered a flicker of comfort. He could see the fatigue etched on your face, the weariness that clung to you.

"The Thawne from our Earth is working with them," Barry said, frustrated.

Time froze, and your gaze locked onto Harry hoping that it was all a terrible misunderstanding.

No. He wouldn't... would he?

But deep down, a gnawing sense of dread whispered the truth to your heart.

You turned towards Harry, your eyes filled with a mix of desperation and disbelief. The weight of the revelation threatened to suffocate you as you heard Harry's voice. "Well, he's an idiot."

It was too much to bear, the betrayal cutting deep into your soul. Excusing yourself from the conversation, you rose from your seat. Harry instinctively moved to follow, concern etched on his face, but you shook your head, silently telling him you needed time alone.

You walked up the stairs, your footsteps heavy with the weight of confusion and frustration, until you reached the rooftop of Star Labs. The sprawling city lay below, its lights flickering like distant stars in the night sky.

Why did this have to be so complicated?

It felt like every twist and turn led to an even more twisted mess. And of all the things that could have happened, Eobard had gone and joined the freaking Nazis. Just when you thought Eobard wouldn't dare, he proved you wrong.

Leaning against the ledge, you let out a weary sigh, the sound mingling with the city's distant hum. The cool breeze caressed your face, offering a brief respite from the chaos that had consumed your thoughts. You knew that there was only one way to get answers.

And you hoped it would work.

--------------------

"Will it work?"

Eobard sighed, feeling a mix of annoyance and superiority. It was a familiar sensation, as if he were constantly surrounded by people who underestimated his intellect.

"It will, with a few adjustments and a significant power source," he replied, his tone laced with a touch of arrogance.

Overgirl stood beside him, radiating confidence and pride as she said, "My husband's on his way to handle that as we speak."

Eobard paused his tinkering with the prism, casting a quick glance at Overgirl. "Your husband has a choice to make," he warned, irritation creeping into his voice.

Overgirl let out an exasperated sigh, knowing exactly where this conversation was heading. "Me or the Reich?" she responded, her confidence unshaken.

"That's right," Eobard retorted, a hint of annoyance evident in his tone. He pointed a finger towards her, his frustration mounting. "Because we have two goals, and my worry is if we can't accomplish both, he's going to choose you," he emphasized, "over a second Earth flying under our banner."

Overgirl shook her head defiantly, her confidence unwavering. "Oliver will not abandon our mission," she declared firmly.

Oh please.

Eobard rolled his eyes, his irritation growing. "I've seen this before. In 1945, Hitler and his men were equally short-sighted," he retorted, his voice laced with annoyance.

"Hitler was driven by passion and childish need. Oliver," Overgirl's voice dripped with disgust, "is twice the man Hitler ever was."

I could just strangle her.

The sheer absurdity of the comparison made Eobard want to scoff. "Not when he's blinded by his love for you," he shot back, slamming his fist on the table in frustration.

A heavy silence filled the room as Overgirl finally realized the truth in Eobard's words. The weight of the situation settled upon her.

"If it comes to Oliver choosing between me and the Reich," she said, her voice determined and resolute, "I'll make sure he chooses the Fatherland."

Eobard couldn't help but roll his eyes again, finding her declaration somewhat delusional. "How?" he challenged, his tone skeptical.

"If it comes to it," Overgirl replied defiantly, her resolve unwavering, "by taking the choice out of his hands."

Eobard watched her as she left the room, grateful for the silence accompanied by her departure. However, the silence was short-lived, as his watch suddenly beeped frantically. With a frown etched on his face, he glanced down at it and he could have sworn his heart stopped as he harshly threw the prism onto the table and swiftly made his way out of the room, running towards Star Labs.

---------------

^^^Flashback^^^

Oh my head...

Intense pain throbbed through your head, causing you to instinctively clutch your temples. The searing agony made it difficult to focus, but a chilling voice cut through the haze, jolting you awake from your disoriented state. The realization hit you like a bolt of lightning—you were bound to a chair, trapped.

"Where am I?" you mustered the courage to ask, futilely struggling against your restraints.

The voice, dripping with malevolence, responded with a sinister laugh. "Don't concern yourself with your location, my dear. You're the bait in my grand scheme."

"Release me!" you screamed, desperation and fear coursing through your veins.

Before you could comprehend what was happening, a forceful blow struck your face, silencing your pleas. The taste of blood tainted your mouth, leaving you dizzy and disoriented. Glimpsing a shadowy figure ready to strike again, you braced yourself for the impending pain. However, in an instant, a rush of wind and a streak of lightning disrupted the scene, heralding the arrival of an unexpected savior.

"You've made a profoundly foolish choice," reverberated the distorted voice of the Reverse Flash, his presence commanding.

"Who... who are you?" your captor stuttered, consumed by fear.

"Death," the Reverse Flash declared with a chilling finality, before the dark room flashed with another streak of lightning. The room fell silent, and he approached you, delicately touching your injured face, causing you to wince in pain. As he surveyed your injured state, his gaze flickered with a mix of frustration and concern. Every line etched on his face betrayed the worry he felt within, the furrowed brows and clenched jaw giving away how he felt. Intense fury and worry coursed through Eobard's veins, the sight of you, bound and defenseless, ignited a burning anger within him.

"Did you... kill him?" you whispered, your voice laced with a mix of apprehension and relief.

Eobard scoffed in response, his annoyance palpable. "You could have lost your life, and you're concerned about his well-being?"

A defiant glare met his exasperated expression, silently demanding an answer.

With a resigned sigh, Eobard admitted, "No."

As you stood beside the motionless body of your captor, you realized something. No one had known where you were.

You turned to him, a mixture of curiosity and disbelief on your face. "How did you know I was here?"

Eobard's gaze drifted to the chain that held your ring, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and affection. "How else could I know that you were safe?"

A mixture of incredulity and amusement washed over you. "Seriously? That's how you track me?"

He sighed, a tinge of annoyance still lingering. "Thank you, Eobard, for saving my life," he said, imitating you. "Oh, you're welcome, darling," he replied, feigning annoyance.

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Thank you, Eobard, for rescuing me. I love you, you dork."

His lips curled into a genuine smile, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions. "I love you too."

^^^^

------------

It's interesting how slow time seems to move...

Especially when you falling.

Falling off a very very tall building to be precise.

The rush of wind whipped against your face, mingling with the bitter taste of regret that clung to your tongue. Panic tightened its grip around your heart as you peered downward, witnessing the ground drawing nearer with a terrifying certainty.

Dread swelled within you.

Maybe this wasn't the best idea...

As the ground loomed closer, your fear erupted into a frenzied scream, a desperate plea for salvation. And then, in a bewildering instant, you felt a sudden jolt, a force wrapping around you, pulling you back the threat of the hard cement floor. The world snapped back into focus as you found yourself once again on the safety of the balcony, gasping for breath, your heart pounding in your chest.

Eobard, stood before you, his cowl removed, a mixture of concern and confusion etched upon his face. A tremor of vulnerability ran through his touch as his finger grazed your cheek, his worry visible. But the proximity between you felt suffocating, and you pushed him away angrily.

"You're working with the freaking Nazis?" The words exploded from your lips, fueled by a righteous anger that surged within you. The accusation flew like venom, the incredulity in your voice reverberated through the air.

Eobard was left dumbfounded, struggling to comprehend the whirlwind of events that had just happened. "Did you really just throw yourself off the roof to ask me that?" he incredulously questioned, his disbelief barely concealed.

"You're unbelievable," you felt anger surging through your body, your voice crescendoing with every word, "Unbelievable!"

Eobard's composure shattered, his own emotions surging forth in a torrent of words. "I'm unbelievable? Really?" he shot back, his voice rising in intensity. "I have given up everything for you, for our happiness," he declared, his voice tinged with a mixture of defiance and hurt. "And you're unhappy?"

The dam of pent-up emotions burst forth as you both unleashed, the air crackling with the force of your heated exchange. "Bullshit, Eobard," you retorted, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and vulnerability. "Everything you have ever done is for yourself. That's all you do—think about yourself!"

"I'm never the priority. I'm never enough for you," you cried out, the words raw. "I'm sick of sacrificing my own happiness, constantly playing second fiddle to your inability to confront your past and be with me in the present. It's time for you to man up and let go of this foolish fixation on Barry and time!"

There was silence as you both looked at each other.

"I'm sor-" Eobard tried to reach for your hand but you pushed him away.

"Sorry?" you spat, your voice laced with frustration. "I'm sick of hearing that. Every. Single. Time. I'm done, Eobard."

Panic seized Eobard's gaze, his eyes widening with disbelief as the weight of your words settled upon him. "What?" he uttered softly, his voice tinged with a mix of desperation and disbelief.

"I'm done," you repeated, your voice breaking. With a swift motion, you tore the necklace from your neck, the ring glinting in the air before throwing it at him. "Get out."

His protests faltered as he met your gaze, your eyes brimming with a blend of sorrow, pain, and regret. In that moment, the reality of what he had caused sunk in, the shattered fragments of your heart that he had caused.

As tears cascaded down your cheeks, you quietly said again, “Get out,” but this time with a brokenness lacing your voice.

Eobard sighed, his resolve crumbling. He approached you one last time, pressing a bittersweet kiss upon your lips, a final farewell. There was a sudden noise coming from below. You recognized it as the emergency alarm. You glanced up at Eobard and saw that his eyes were filled with sadness.

"I have to go," he said softly, "Go hide. Stay safe."

And with a surge of speed, he vanished, leaving you behind, broken and alone. You wiped your tears away, knowing that you had bigger worries now.

As you came back down you saw men with masks and swastikas on their sleeves walking to the containment area of the lab. Further away you saw Iris and Felicity standing on the other side of the hall, worried. You looked back up, trying to contain the overwhelming emotions you were feeling, before making your way towards Iris and Felicity.

Something told you that things were about to get ugly.

-----------------

Hellooo beautiful people! I'm so sorry it took this long but I wrote a looooot more so hopefully it makes up for it??? Things are getting heated!!! Currently I do not have an ending set in stone so what do y'all think? Was it right on to throw Eobard this curveball? Should Harry make his move? I loveeee hearing feedback and I love all of you! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: Taglist: @khayrrilrainxwells @kirareaper13 @i-dont-care-lol @cursedfaechild @lovepeaceorelse @roryjames82 @brianllamawrites @achromaticerebus @honeybeezgobzzzzz

#harrison wells #harry wells #harry wells x reader #harrison wells x reader #eobard x reader #eobard thawne x reader #eowells #eobard thawne #earth x #earth 2 #the flash cw #reverse flash x reader #reverse flash #fanfic #fanfiction #love triangle #xreader #x reader

[haveyoureadthispoll]

Her mother's dying request obliges Mary Yellan to make a grim journey across bleak Cornish moorland to Jamaica Inn, the home of her Aunt Patience and her overbearing husband, Joss Merlyn. With the coachman's warning echoing in her mind and affected by the inn's brooding power, Mary is thwarted in her intention to help her aunt. She finds herself drawn unwillingly into the misdeeds of Joss and his accomplices, and even more disturbing are her feelings for a man she dare not trust . . . Jamaica Inn is a dark and gripping gothic tale that will remind readers of two other great classics, Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights .

#book: jamaica inn #author: daphne du maurier #genre: classics #genre: historical fiction #genre: gothic #genre: mystery

[livingecho]

“Would you still be my manager if I was a worm? A really talented worm?” 🥺

she takes a moment to find her center ⸻ you test her patience more then her seven year old , my dear singer . with a deep breath she dawns on her smile once more & wraps an arm around merlyn to pull them in close ❝ oh of course i will ♡ . i'd make sure all would come to see such a talented worm ... ❞

❝ i'd make sure you'd have the best dirt to burrow in & all the leaves you could want to eat ⸻ the highest of quality too , of course. ❞ ... is that the right answer to this question ? vissarion doesn't ... fully understand .

#revelour #𝓥˙˖* °⸻ ❛ you still want it … the inner sanctity ⅋ its an evil but the evil is necessary . ❜⎜❲ ic .❳ #𝓥˙˖* °⸻ ❛ ph'nglui mglw'nafh cthulhu r'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn . ❜⎜❲ v. d&d .❳

[revelour]

hello Merlyn fans,

my activity this week may be low due to a LOT of class work/college bs I’m having to do. I appreciate your patience, and we WILL be hanging around, I may just not have much writing out.

#( ooc. )

[bi-bard]

five seconds flat - Lizzy McAlpine (Writing Challenge)

Hello!

I am back to do yet another writing challenge! This time, I'll be focusing on "five seconds flat", the brand-new album by Lizzy McAlpine.

I love this album so much and have already had so many ideas for it. I hope you all enjoy this!

Masterlist for this Writing Challenge:

1. doomsday

I Feel More Free Than I Have in Years Six Feet in the Ground Lonnie Machin X Reader Lonnie had played a big game. Tough and chaotic. However, those closest to you can learn how to look through your mask, especially after you've hurt them.

2. an ego thing

It's Not That I Hate You; I Hate That it Hurt Andrew Garfield X Reader After voicing a real problem, (Y/n) couldn't have anticipated the response they would get from Andrew. Unfortunately, (Y/n) can play the same game as him.

3. erase me

Him and His Aftershave Hit like a Drug Dean Winchester X Reader A rebound may not always be healthy, but coping is coping. It's a shame that something as simple as guilt can ruin someone's plans. Sometimes it can be for the best.

4. called you again

You're Better off on Your Own Kara Danvers X Reader Things fall apart. Not everything can last forever. (Y/n) knew they'd have to accept that eventually. That doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt like a bitch.

5. all my ghosts

They Know All of My Habits, but They Don't Know About You Jack Kline X Reader For unknown reasons, (Y/n) finds themself back in Lebanon. However, it's not as miserable as they remember it being, mostly thanks to a new resident that goes by Jack. All (Y/n) can hope is that those unknown reasons don't ruin things going forward.

6. reckless driving

And One Day It Will Kill Us if I Don't Let Go Sam Winchester X Reader Sam finally acknowledged his feelings but refuses to act on them. (Y/n) thought that they could accept that, but while working with Sam and seeing all of the risks he takes, their patience runs thin.

7. weird

And Now I'm in a Maze Chuck Shurley X Reader (Y/n) started noticing something strange about the world surrounding them. However, the person that vowed to protect them does not like how much (Y/n) is poking around.

8. ceilings

And it Feels Like the Start of a Movie I've Seen Before Castiel X Reader (Y/n) had been haunted by vivid dreams and memories that they can't place. After being isolated for so long, they assume that it's just their brain trying to cope. Unfortunately, the answer is far more heartbreaking.

9. what a shame (Part 2)

I Don't Wanna Take My Mind Off You Aaron 'Hotch' Hotchner X Reader Things with Hotch and Hailey had been rocky. The strain on the relationship helps to encourage Hotch to overstep some boundaries in his work life.

10. firearm

What a Shame That I Put Up with You Ed Nygma X Reader Ed's choices drive (Y/n) to reconsider how far one person can go for love. How long can something go on before a boundary is seriously crossed?

11. hate to be lame

Hate to be Lame but I Might Love You Nora Darhk X Reader A sad side effect of her childhood is that Nora doesn't have the best skills in communicating. So, when she tries to take a big step with (Y/n), things hit a small bump.

12. nobody likes a secret

Nobody Likes a Secret, and I Was Always Yours Tommy Merlyn X Reader Tommy learns a very important lesson after he royally screws up. You can't treat people like crap and expect it to never get thrown back in your face.

13. chemtrails

I Miss It, I Miss You Rory Gilmore X Reader Rory never thought about the possibility of losing (Y/n). She should've known that people will only wait so long before they get tired. How long can one person go unwanted before they decide they deserve better?

14. orange show speedway

Riding on the Line Between Acceptable and Angering Your Girlfriend Allison Cameron X Reader (Y/n) never really enjoyed Chase's company. Not just because they loved his girlfriend, but also because he was a terrible person. Sometimes, (Y/n) walked a very thin line between being very close friends and moving toward something very different. And Chase felt it was necessary to take action.

---------------------------------

Masterlist

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

folklore/evermore Writing Challenge (and Masterlist)

Maisie Peters - “You Signed Up for This” Writing Challenge Masterlist

#imagine #fanfiction #x reader #lizzy mcalpine #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #jack kline x reader #jack kline imagine #jack kline fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fanfiction #castiel imagine #castiel x reader #castiel fanfiction #lonnie machin fanfiction #lonnie machin imagine #lonnie machin x reader #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield imagine #andrew garfield fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #kara danvers fanfiction #kara danvers imagine #kara danvers x reader #chuck shurley fanfiction #chuck shurley x reader

[jbuffyangel]

Something To Live For: Arrow 1x10 Review (Burned)

I’m back! 

There’s a significant time difference between my 1x09 review and this review. No, I did not take a six year long holiday break. It just became too difficult to complete the Season 1 reviews the summer prior to Season 4. So, I decided to complete Season 1 and Season 2 reviews once Arrow was off air.

This means I have not watched 1x10-1x23 in eight years. I nearly forgot everything. Is L*urel still in this show?

She sure is.

“Burned” is the first real snoozer of Season 1, which kind of sets up the tradition of episode 10-15 slumps Arrow suffered nearly every season.  This has less to do with Arrow and more to do with it being a twenty three episode series. There’s gonna be some filler.

This episode still holds significant meaning to me though because it contains the SOMETHING TO LIVE FOR speech. This is my favorite John Diggle speech, which is why I named my blog after it. It is also the first time Arrow declares their mission statement.

Let’s dig in...

Oliver and Diggle

The bad guy plot is the worst part of “Burned,” so let’s just cut to the chase. There was a terrible fire in Starling City years ago. The fire chief recalled his unit but one of his men, Garfield Lynns, insisted the building could be saved. The chief refused to send in any more men and as a result Lynns died. Except, this is Arrow and nobody stays dead. Lynns is alive, ticked, insane and burning firefighters, which leads to Joanna’s brother (a firefighter) getting killed.

Cool? Cool. Moving on.

Oliver is having difficulty coping with the fact the Dark Archer kicked his ass all the way back to the stone age. It was a somewhat embarrassing loss and Oliver’s body wasn’t the only thing bruised. We are gifted a very lovely training sequences of a half naked and very sweaty Oliver Queen to show he is recovered, so his hesitancy isn’t physical. It is mental.

Source: @olivergifs​

Oliver is having a crisis of confidence and is avoiding suiting up like the plague.

Diggle: This guy, the other archer, he got in your head. He took something from you … he took whatever’s in your heart that lets you jump off buildings and take down bad guys.

Oliver worked for every skill he has. It was not gifted by a bolt of lightning. He does not come from an alien planet. Oliver is a weapon honed over time, which includes his superpower. 

Oliver Queen does not fear dying. 

That’s the “whatever” in his heart which gives him the confidence to jump off buildings. This superpower was honed after five years of fighting for survival. Oliver almost died so many times he’s built some kind of emotional immunity to it. It doesn’t freak him out like it would the rest of us.

The darker side of this superpower is Oliver doesn’t care if he lives or dies. Season 1 Oliver Queen is very fatalistic. He’s not suicidal, but he’s accepted death is the price he may have to pay in order to complete his mission. More importantly, he is drowning in guilt and believes death is the ending he deserves.

There’s rigidity in everything about Oliver – from his beliefs to even the way he moves. His posture is rod iron straight and there’s very little movement in his upper body and arms. It’s a physical manifestation of his PTSD. It’s like he’s encased in a brick wall, a tomb of suffering, which makes it difficult to breathe or move. It’s like the act of living is physically painful.

The problem is - Oliver came home and it is having an unexpected emotional impacted on him. He’s been laser focused on this mission, but bit by bit, the feelings he’s long since buried are resurfacing.  Moira, Thea, Tommy, Diggle, Laurel (AND FELICITY) are chipping away at this brick wall. Oliver didn’t adopt this machine like persona because he doesn’t feel anything. It’s because he feels so much, which means even the small holes in this wall are having a profound impact on him.

This all leads to the greatest John Diggle speech in history! Yes, I say that knowing full well Diggle has spectacular speeches throughout the series, but this will always be my favorite because it’s such a universal theme. 

We all must have something that makes life worth living.  This “something” is not limited to romantic love. It can be family, or work or a cause – basically whatever makes you get out of bed every day. It doesn’t have to be just one thing either. In fact, I hope you find many things/people to live for because that means you are living a full and connected life. By that same token, if you don’t have something to live for then you’re not really living. You just exist.

Or in Oliver’s case - survive. He’s known nothing but survival for the last five years. I think he absolutely cares for Yao Fei, Shado and Slade, but that’s exactly why Oliver shut down. He did care for people and it led to nothing but heartache, betrayal and loss. So, Oliver decided to be done with all that and has worked very hard to keep his loved ones at a distance ever since returning home.

He’s been extremely successful at it in many ways because Oliver refuses to share who he really is with anyone outside of John Diggle. So, that’s why it had to be John Diggle to tell him that it was okay to feel again.

Oliver: I’ve been close to death on the island more times than I can remember and I never feared it. Because I had nothing to lose. But when that archer almost killed me, when I stared death in the face then, I thought about all the people I’ve let into my life since I’ve been back – my family, Laurel, Tommy. And that made me afraid. Afraid of what would happen to those people if they lost me. Again. And for the first time in so long I had something to lose.

Oliver may not fear death, but he does fear what his death will mean to those who love him. Like I said earlier - Oliver is not suicidal. If that was true he wouldn’t have fought so hard to survive the island, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to live. He’s far from it. But this is the first time in a long time Oliver cared whether or not he died. And that scares him.  

Diggle: Maybe you’ve got it backwards Oliver. You think the people you’ve let in have taken your edge. I think it gives you one. Maybe a stronger one even. You can stare down death with something to live for or not. SOMETHING TO LIVE FOR is better.

That’s endgame folks. Oliver’s story is about a man learning to live again. He will collect more and more people/things that he cares about as he walks this road, which means there is more to lose. Losing his life is far preferable than losing someone he loves again.  Oliver can tolerate a great deal of physical pain. It’s the emotional pain that scares the crap out of him. This is why he fights tooth and nail to keep emotions at a distance. It just hurts too much.

Opening our heart to others often means opening our hearts to pain, but that’s not the only side of love. It brings happiness and contentment too. You take the good with the bad. Diggle is trying to open Oliver’s heart to the good.

Is Oliver alive? Or is he just breathing? The answers to those questions make all the difference in the world. A difference Diggle knows will make Oliver an unbeatable weapon.

Lynns: I'm not afraid to die

Oliver: I know. You're afraid to live.

COULD IT BE A PARALLEL?

Methinks yes. It’s interesting “Burned” revolves around fire. Fire is where Oliver’s story began. Lian Yu was about purification, but it was also a rebirth. 

A rebirth we see expanding as Oliver opens up his heart. A fire is lit from within our hero and it’s growing beyond penance, justice and retribution to hope, passion and enlightenment. Oliver Queen is finding reasons to live again. And it will make all the difference for his survival.

L*urel L*nce

If you sense I have less patience with L*urel’s character in Seasons 1 and Season 2 than I did in Season 3 and Season 4 then you’d be right. My opinions on this character changed radically so I’m coming into Season 1 and Season 2 reviews with a Season 8 perspective on L*urel.

Tommy wants a drawer. That’s all. A drawer. Tommy Merlyn is a simple man. Doesn’t take a lot to make him happy. He even wrote a list explaining all the reasons he deserves and needs a drawer. We never see the list, but I’d imagine it looks something like this:

I AM HUMAN PERFECTION.

I did not sleep with your sister.

I am asking for a drawer rather than run screaming to the North China Sea with above referenced sister.

I make you omelets.

I make your character moderately tolerable which is a miracle in of itself.

I could continue, but you get the idea. What’s absolutely ludicrous is OLIVER gives L*UREL relationship advice.

Oliver: Well we're friends.

Me: Oliver, my son, NO YOU ARE NOT. 

At least she had the common sense to scoff at Oliver’s friendly attempt to intervene on Tommy’s behalf. (Seriously, dude just stay out of it. This is wildly inappropriate.)

L*urel was ready to move in with Oliver (even though she knew he cheated on her regularly), but freaks at faithful Tommy requesting armoire access. JFC this woman is a dating disaster zone.

L*urel: I don’t take things slow remember? I close my eyes and I jump just like you. 

My initial reaction to this speech is to call it nonsense. 

I thought this was a case of Arrow telling rather than showing with L*urel’s character. However, upon further contemplation I have reversed my opinion.

L*urel may be a pragmatic attorney on the surface, but we have watched her run the gamut of human emotions week to week. So much so it’s difficult to get a read on the character the writers are trying to construct. (Spoiler alert: they don’t know what kind of character they are trying to construct). One week she loves Oliver. The next week she’s condemning him to hell. L*urel L*nce’s feelings definitely control her.

She has been reckless too, working outside the law, by contacting the vigilante for assistance. A relationship she resumes after telling her father in 1x09 that The Hood is a killer with no remorse. See what I’m saying about the ever changing emotional spectrum?

I’m not saying L*urel having emotions and expressing them is bad. That’s a healthier reaction than what Oliver is doing, but she has been all over the map. It’s less about who L*urel is as a character and more about the writers needing her to react a certain way to make the episode work.

Oliver likes to present himself as a cool cucumber, but he has a rather unpleasant temper too. It may seem like he’s emotionless, but that is just a façade. It’s a cover for the torrent of emotions he keeps at bay.

Laurel: I think that’s why we spooked each other. Our feelings, our fears, they control us. Not the other way around.

L*urel’s “spooking each other” statement is a big line of bull, which we’ll find out later in the season. L*urel was not spooked by Oliver. She was the furthest thing from spooked, which is why she asked him to move in with her.

Oliver wasn’t spooked either. Anytime I reflect on L*uriver I’m reminded of a scene from Sex in the City. Oliver isn’t freaked out by his feelings. He’s just not that into you, L*urel.

The process in which we get OLIVER to realize this and admit it to himself will take much longer, but I can be patient. It’s time will come.

But do I think these two characters are similar? YES. They are too similar in fact. It’s one of the main reasons they don’t work as a couple. This is exactly why Tommy and Felicity are perfect for L*urel and Oliver.  They need someone steady to temper their emotions. 

They need someone happy to balance out their anger. They need someone with a bright light in order to find their own.

It’s also worth noting that Tommy was ready to run into a burning building to save Oliver so GIVE HIM A DAMN DRAWER L*UREL.

Stray Thoughts

Flashbacks were kind of boring. Fyers kidnaps Yao Fei. Oliver saves his own life by accident. Meh

Thea calling Moira out was long overdue. This kid needs a parent ASAP.

Everyone's fall clothing is really adorable.

JUST UNBUTTON THE FRACKIN BUTTON OLLIE.

Merlyn kidnapped Walter right? Or Moira? I seriously don't remember. I don’t think I care either. lol

L*urel: I am not the best example of healthy grieving.

LL has a rare moment of self awareness, which is lovely.

Oliver: I heard what you said to your father. That I'm a killer with no remorse.

L*urel: Do you?

Me: You impertinent little snot.

I like Joanna much better than L*urel and I wished she stayed, but removing Joanna from the show is the first step the writers took to limit L*urel's role. The shift is upon us.

  Not to be unsympathetic, but Moira is starting to rack up the dead husbands.

Thea fantasizing that Walter is cheating on Moira with a stewardess as the hopeful pitch is YIKES. Goodness this show could be dark.

Musings of the Kiddo  

Kiddo: Yeah! He's actually putting his family first!

Me: Settle down. It doesn't last long.

Kiddo: I thought L*urel was gonna find out.

Me: Oh my sweet summer child.

Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me.

If you’d like to support the blog, please buy me a cup of tea!

#arrow #arrow 1x10 #arrow rewatch #oliver queen #john diggle #oliver and diggle #anti laurel lance #merlance #arrow season 1 #arrow season 1 review #arrow review #arrow reviews #arrow season 1 reviews #season 1 review #season 1 episode review #season 1 reviews #season 1 episode reviews #arrow fandom #anti lauriver

[witchofinterest]

WBW for your main muse right now?

thank you!!! that’s kay atm!!! though my new spn fic might displace that soon.

world building Wednesday

B A S I C S

* full name: Katherine Jenna Mulaney

* gender: … female

* sexuality: panromantic asexual

* pronouns: she/her

O T H E R S

* family: Debra Lister (mother), Ronald mulaney (semi-adoptive father), Malcolm Merlyn/Arthur King (biological father), Bonnie Lister (grandmother), Donald Lister (grandfather), Caleb Parsons (half-brother), Tommy Merlyn (half-brother)

* birthplace: Gotham, New Jersey, USA

* job: college student, vigilante

* phobias: death, clowns, asylums

* guilty pleasures: everything, she has an anxiety disorder

M O R A L S

* morality alignment?: neutral good

* sins - lust/greed/gluttony/sloth/pride/envy/wrath

* virtues - chastity/charity/diligence/humility/kindness/patience/justice

T H I S - O R - T H A T

* introvert/extrovert:

* organized/disorganized: (in an, i know where everything is way)

* close minded/open-minded:

* calm/anxious:

* disagreeable/agreeable:

* cautious/reckless:

* patient/impatient:

* outspoken/reserved:

* leader/follower:

* empathetic/unemphatic:

* optimistic/pessimistic:

* traditional/modern:

* hard-working/lazy:

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

otp: Kay x jason todd, kay x rose wilson

ot3: n/a

brotp: kay x dick grayson, kay x roy harper, k x barbra gordon, kay x donna troy, kay x connor hawke, kay x conner kent

notp: kay x roy harper, kay x tim drake, kay x dick grayson

#oc: katherine mulaney #fd: titans #fd: dc #thank you!! #oc katherine mulaney

[thegreenxrcher]

{𝓑𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓬𝓼}

Name: Oliver Jonas Queen Alias: Kapiushon (капюшон), The Hood, The Arrow, Al Sah-him (السهم), Green Arrow, The Spectre Gender: Male Age: 27 - 35 / verse-dependant Species: Human Zodiac: aquarius / aries / cancer / capricorn / gemini / leo / libra / pisces / sagittarius / scorpio / taurus / virgo / unknown Abilities/Talents: A great skill set to fight melee and ranged with different kind of weapons, though he prefers his bow over anything else.

{𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓵}

Alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true Religion: None Sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath Virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience Languages: English, Russian, Mandarin, Japanese, Spanish and Cantonese

Family: Robert Queen ( father - dead), Moira Queen (mother - dead), Thea Queen (maternal - half sister), Emiko (paternal - half sister), William Clayton (son) Friends: Tommy Merlyn, Quentin Lance, Laurel Lance, Sara Lance, John Diggle, Felicity Smoak (and quite some more - depending on the verse) Sexual Orientation: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other Relationship status: single (verse dependant) / dating (verse dependent) / married / widowed / open relationship / other Libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent

{𝓟𝓱𝔂𝓼𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵}

Build: twig / bony / slender / average / athletic / curvy / chubby / obese Hair: white / blonde / brunette / red / black / other Eyes: brown / blue / green / black / other Skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / very brown / other Height: under 3 foot / 3-4 foot / 4-5 foot / 5-6 foot / 6-7 foot / above 7 foot Weight: under 100 pounds / 100-150 pounds / 150-200 pounds / 200-250 pounds / above 250 pounds Scars: A lot. When Oliver came back from being gone for 5 years, his body was covered for 20% in scars and plenty of not properly healed bones. Of course, with his night time activities - that percentage has only increased. Facial Features: Oliver has a resting ‘bitch’ face or a face that shows ‘I’m judging you’. This shows mostly to those he doesn’t know - though at events he keeps a very well and friendly demeanor. The closer one is to him, the more often you can witness a smile or two, maybe even a bit of humor here and there. Tattoos: Oliver has 3 tattoos. Bratva captain tattoo on his peck, a tattoo by John Constantine on his side and a dragon tattoo on his shoulder blade.

{𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓸𝓼𝓮}

Dogs or Cats? Birds or Hamsters? Snakes or Spiders? Red or Blue? Yellow or Green? Black or White? Coffee or Tea? Ice Cream or Cake? Fruits or Vegetables? Sandwich or Soup? Magic or Melee? Sword or Bow? Summer or Winter? Spring or Autumn? The Past or The Future?

Tagged by: @thecursedhellblazer

#〘 oliver queen 〙underneath the hood #〘 aesthetics 〙the creation of something beautiful #〘 headcanon 〙oliver queen #〘 tag games 〙at the touch they pass their turn #〘 queue 〙you have no idea how powerful waiting can be

[tessasocs]

wbw + melissa!

B A S I C S

full name: Melissa Ada Kane

gender: cis female

sexuality: bisexual

pronouns: she/her

O T H E R S

family: Elias Kane (father), Colette King (mother), Adeline Kane (aunt), Malcolm Merlyn (uncle) 

birthplace: Starling City

job: IT expert at CNRI

phobias: losing her friends, heights

guilty pleasures: parties, one direction, foreign films

M O R A L S

morality alignment?: Neutral Good

sins - lust/greed/gluttony/sloth/pride/envy/wrath

virtues - chastity/charity/diligence/humility/kindness/patience/justice

T H I S - O R - T H A T

introvert/extrovert:

organized/disorganized:

close minded/open-minded:

calm/anxious:

disagreeable/agreeable:

cautious/reckless:

patient/impatient:

outspoken/reserved:

leader/follower:

empathetic/unemphatic:

optimistic/pessimistic:

traditional/modern:

hard-working/lazy:

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

otp: Melissa x Oliver

ot3: Melissa x Oliver x Laurel, Melissa x Oliver x Felicity

brotp: Melissa & Felicity, Melissa & Laurel, Melissa & Tommy, Melissa & Diggle

notp: Melissa & Malcolm, Melissa & Slade

[tessasarrowverse]

wbw + tara merlyn!

MY BABY!! Thank you for asking about her!

B A S I C S

full name: Tara Michelle Merlyn

gender: female

sexuality: pansexual

pronouns: she/her

O T H E R S

family: Malcolm Merlyn (father), Rebecca Merlyn (mother), Tommy Merlyn (brother) Thea Queen (half-sister), REDACTED (bio father)

birthplace: Starling City, CA

job: Volunteer Nurse/President of Rebecca’s Clinic (currently), Doctor (eventually)

phobias: Losing her family, disappointing Malcolm, Drowning/Water

guilty pleasures: Scotch, Barbie Movies, Fanfiction

M O R A L S

morality alignment?: Chaotic Neutral

sins - lust/greed/gluttony/sloth/pride/envy/wrath

virtues - chastity/charity/diligence/humility/kindness/patience/justice

T H I S - O R - T H A T

introvert/extrovert:

organized/disorganized:

close minded/open-minded:

calm/anxious:

disagreeable/agreeable:

cautious/reckless:

patient/impatient:

outspoken/reserved:

leader/follower:

empathetic/unemphatic:

optimistic/pessimistic:

traditional/modern:

hard-working/lazy:

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

otp: Tara x Barry?? 

ot3: Tara x Oliver x Thea (platonic), Tara x Tommy x Oliver (platonic) Tara x Sara x Felicity 

brotp: Tara & Tommy, Tara & Sara, Tara & Felicity, Tara & Thea, Tara & Oliver

notp: Tara x Malcolm, Tara x Slade

[recurring-polynya]

Arright friendos, I have finished reading Jamaica Inn, and now it is time for my Jamaica Inn book report, because this is a fun and cool blog for fun and cool people who like to read and write book reports.

Jamaica Inn is one of those period books that was written in the 1930s, but takes place in the 1820s, so it’s got that weird double-period thing going for it. I was written by Daphne du Maurier, who wrote other books you may have read in English class, namely Rebecca, but also The Birds, as in, Alfred Hitchcock The Birds. This book was recommended to me by my good friend @thegreenfaery because I talk shit all the time about how much I love Cornwall (I went on a day-trip once during in 2003 during the summer I lived in London, also, I watched Poldark) and I had never actually read anything by Daphne du Maurier.

SO! Jamaica Inn is about a girl named Mary, whose family dies, so she goes to live with her mother’s sister, who she hasn’t seen in 20 years, when she got married and moved away. Turns out, Aunt Patience married Joss Merlyn, A Terrible Dude who Drinks and Smuggles and Sometimes Murders People. They live in an inn that used to be nice, but now is just a HQ for the smuggling, hence the name of the book.

The Good: Do you like the musical stylings of Loreena McKennit and/or Boiled in Lead? Have you ever said “Fuck yeah” when someone take a musketball to the sleeve of their puffy shirt and blood blooms forth? This book is a fucking mood. The drama is palpable. Characters in this book actually said “Dead men tell no tales” more than once. Also, there were so many loving descriptions of the moors and people running around in the moors and thinking about how easy it would be to take a wrong step and die on the moors and no one would ever find your body. Towards the end, I turned to my husband and said, “I love a book where the final confrontation is determined by who has better knowledge of how to make their ways through the moors,” and he was like “fuckin’ right.”

Also, it’s short. My attention span is very poor and I love it when a book is considerate enough to be short.

The Bad: I am going to get a few things out of the way.

1) Spoiler, except that it’s extremely obvious from the moment you meet him: The big bad of the book is an albino vicar and it’s pretty gross by modern day standards with his “otherworldliness”, etc, etc. I do give him points for going completely off the rails in the final pages of the book and ranting about Old Gods and stuff, but the albino thing was completely unnecessary and it looks like they at least toned it down a bunch for the tv adaptations.

2) Period-”appropriate” sexism/gender essentialism. I like period stuff, and I have a pretty high tolerance for this bullshit, but I am just throwing this out there as a warning that this book has a ton of “If only you were a man” and “A woman is cannot be expected to have the strength to do such-and-such” so if that is a deal-killer for you, you should probably skip this one.

Speaking of deal-killers: If you are thinking of reading this book, I want to reassure you right away that no one gets raped. I went through this book in great fear that Mary was gonna get raped (I despise rape plots and it usually will ruin a book for me) and she did not. I think I would have enjoyed it a lot more if I had known that ahead of time. The book has a bit of a rapey vibe-- she’s constantly getting thrown into carriages and Joss will grab her cheeks and say “Ayyyyyy Mary if only I were twenty years younger yeh’d be sharin’ me bed” but nothing ever comes of it.

The Very, Very Good: I have not mentioned what is both the most and least important part of this book, Joss Meryln’s hot younger brother, dirtbaggy horse thief Jem Merlyn, who Mary falls in love with. Now, Mary is a tough lady, and has a very pragmatic view of marriage, namely that it is for suckers and she is having none of it. That being said, she meets Jem and is like “oh no he’s hot.” Her entire attitude toward this man is “WELP, you can’t help who you fall in love with, might as well make out with this thotty dumpster fire.”

For a lot of the book there’s this suspicion that Jem might be the Secret Head Boss of the Smuggling Ring, and every time Mary would get suspicious of him, I would go “Noooooo, Mary, he’s so hot!” and every time she would go “fuck it time for makeouts” I would go “Noooooo, Mary, he’s so terrible!” This was the ultimate in reading experiences for me. The chapter in the middle of the book where he takes her on a date on Christmas Eve to go sell a stolen horse and then they make out in a doorway while it rains was my literal everything, I tell you, reading the entire book was worth it for that one chapter which contained all the dirtbag romance my withered little heart could stand.

Jem does a bunch of heroic stuff toward the end of the book, including chasing Mary’s kidnapper across the moor in the fog in the middle of the night and shooting him from really far away, but it all happens in the background and the book does not make a big deal of it at all, he just shows up being a himbo shitlord at the end and she’s like “this may as well happen” and off they go. Perfection.

TV Shows? TV Shows! So, I knew there was a BBC version because PBS tried to convince me I wanted to watch it after I finished Poldark. I would definitely watch a tv version of this, but only if the actors are sufficiently hot. It does appear that they are, although Wikipedia says everyone hates it because all the actors mumble the whole time. More importantly, while I was looking this up, I found out there was also a 1983 version starring Jane Seymore as Mary and Patrick fuckin’ McGoohan as Problematic Drunk Smuggler Joss Merlyn!!! I lost my shit. I love Patrick McGoohan so, so much. I cannot imagine anyone who could play Joss Merlyn as well as Patrick McGoohan. It’s on YouTube and the two minutes of it I watched looked amazeballs, I will watch it and report back.

#jamaica inn #daphne du maurier #book reports

[awackyphdinadorkable]

Cherik Moodboard - Horse Whisperer AU

When Raven receives a late night call from the police, she knows that something must have gone terribly wrong. arriving at the scene, she finds her worst fears confirmed:

Her brother is rushed to the ER after the police finally found him somewhere in the nearby woods whereas his horse Merlyn got stuck in the mud leading up to the sewers down the road, over with cuts and traumatized. Raven orders for the horse to be brought to Westchester, so she can go to the hospital to see after her brother, whom she hasn’t seen for years.

It is a rough awakening for Charles when he comes back around. While riding out at night, someone had the bright idea to fire a rifle in the woods. Merlyn got frightened, caprioled and the two slipped down a narrow slope. Merlyn buried Charles underneath and crushed parts of his spine, leaving him permanently paralyzed down the waist.

While Raven is not surprised to have animosities come her way as she and Charles did not part on good terms and since grew perfectly estranged. What does shock her is to see how her brother keeps spiraling down, drinking too much, giving in. Charles can’t even bear to look at Merlyn, despite the fact that the two used to be inseparable.

Fearing that Charles may harm himself even more, Raven decides that she has to take action. Research reveals a guy named Erik Lehnsherr, one of the last horse whisperers in the country who specialized in traumatized horses. And so, on a whim, she decides it’s time for a trip to the man’s farm. Charles shows himself little impressed – and he has no intention to make a secret out of it that he doesn’t want this, that he just want to be left alone.

Raven has to realize that travelling with a man who was just recently paralyzed and a traumatized horse on a whim is not as easy as one may think. Hotel rooms on third floor with no elevator to too tiny bathrooms are only few of the problems they encounter on the trip, testing not just her patience but also her devotion to stick around when she took off before.

Eventually, they make it to the farm, but Erik just flat out asks them to leave again, telling Raven that he’s gone out of business. But Raven won’t take no for an answer after they came such a long way. Erik, seeing the poor guy in the wheelchair and the traumatized horse is kind enough to at least provide lodgings until they figured out how to get back.

Or so he thinks. Because Raven has no intention of leaving until Erik took a look at Merlyn. Even more so when Charles shows some kind of reaction when he is nowadays only switching between anger, grief and apathy. As it turns out, the farm owner is a mutant like them, born with the ability to control metal. Which comes in handy when working as a part-time blacksmith fixing horseshoes.

This may be her only opportunity to get her cheerful, hopeful and oftentimes annoying brother back, and Raven won’t let that chance slip away from her a second time. This time, she won’t run away.

Charles is courteous enough to inform Erik that unless he throws them out of the house, Raven won’t make a move, as stubborn as she is. Curiously though, the horse whisperer lets him know that he will return to the act of courtesy by at least having a look at Merlyn.

While the prospects are not too bright, Erik has a feeling he may be able to help the horse. But to help Merlyn, Charles needs help. They need one another. That much is for certain.

“If that is the case, then there is no hope for Merlyn. Because this man’s broken. And you can’t fix something that’s already in ruins.”

Charles abandoned the one thing that used to make up the very nature of his character: He lost hope, in himself foremost.

Despite it all, Erik finds some resolve to make a try with Merlyn and Charles, even though he had any intention to go out of business after his wife and daughter died. Because you can’t help animals find their peace when you yourself are at war. Yet, Erik is aware that if he doesn’t find a way to help Merlyn, Charles is beyond help, too.

And that thought is much more unbearable than it should be. After all, he barely knows this telepath, even though he seems to know him better than anyone should have any business knowing him. Because Erik values his privacy, cherishes the silence to keep the war raging within him at bay.

Charles finds himself forced into dealing with his disability instead of staying inside and reading The Once and Future King for the umpteenth time while lying in bed and grieving the life he can no longer live. Erik requires him to work alongside him. With his ability, at least moving around even in the mud is not that much of a trouble – most of the time – because Erik can move his wheelchair if need be.

Yet, he also has to realize over and over that nothing will ever be the same again for him. The easiest chores are now a challenge. And he won’t ever take Merlyn out for a ride like he used to. He won’t ever feel the freedom to ride through the woods, until all voices fade away and leave him with blissful silence.

While feelings soon start to grow much more intimate between Erik and Charles, both are haunted by their insecurities and past traumas, which may make it impossible for them to embrace the chance they may have – together.

And so, it may well be that the silence will last forever, for better or worse...

#cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #moodboard #aesthetic #cherik moodboard #cherik aesthetic #cherik au #fanfic #in smol

[absentlyabbie]

“Not the best with words, but I’m told I’m great with a hug.” - Family and (mis)fortune fic 😊 if that's okay, i love this au so so much haha

thanks for this prompt, anon! sorry it’s a month late in the filling, but i’ve been working at it the whole time, i promise. i hope this satisfies what you wanted, and thanks so much for loving this self-indulgent crack au with me <3

a family and (mis)fortune fic

on ao3

moments growing up in the life of tommy merlyn, part-time wayne foster child. (four)

—————

Bruce was at a loss.

For reasons beyond comprehension, it hadn’t been nearly this difficult to bring Dick into his home; maybe they had just grieved too much the same, raged too much the same. Bruce had understood Dick all too well. Not that that had made things easy at the very beginning, but it meant Bruce had something to start with.

Tommy was nothing like that.

He was certainly angry, and undoubtedly grieving. But everything he did was an attempt to hide or subvert those things. He was either bright and animated like a boy who didn’t know a fraction of his loss and hurt, or he was shut down and silent.

“He’ll open up,” Alfred had assured him after the boys had gone upstairs. “You were rather a closed fist yourself in his position.”

“That was different,” Bruce replied, lips pressed in thought. “And I was never in his position.”

“No?” Alfred questioned, that one challenging eyebrow arched. “Alone in all the world, too full of things too large for that age?”

Bruce shook his head, the tilt of his smile wry. “I wasn’t truly alone. I had you.”

Alfred only hummed at that. Nevertheless, his point was made.

Huffing a laugh, Bruce nodded. “Alright. Fine. I’m going.”

Up the stairs and down the hall, past Dick’s room, down two doors and across the hall. The door was open, the boys’ voices spilling into the hall all chatter and laughter. It made Bruce breathe a little sigh of relief; he hadn’t known for sure if they would get along. He had of course thought it likely, the factors enough in favor of that outcome it had helped make the decision for him. But they were five years apart in age, and Bruce knew so little about Tommy and how he was likely to react that he was pretty much a wildcard.

He paused just outside the door, eavesdropping shamelessly.

“Oh cool, I’ve seen this movie. How come this one’s in your suitcase and not with the rest of your stuff?” Dick was asking.

“It’s my favorite,” Tommy answered, more solemnly than the context seemed to justify.

Dick’s cheer took on a valiant, striving edge. “Yeah? I get that. Robin Williams is hilarious. And man, Rufio, so cool right?”

“Yeah, Rufio’s awesome.”

There was a pause, then Dick asked, carefully lightly. “I guess that’s not why it’s your favorite though?”

A rustle of cloth, maybe a shrug. “My Mom got it for me. It was the last thing she gave me, before she…”

“Oh. Yeah. Well, if you ever wanna watch it, I’m in. Or not, if that’s better?”

“No,” Tommy hurried to reply. “No, that’d be cool.”

“Cool,” Dick echoed. “Wait’ll you see the entertainment room, it’s almost like being at the theater. Bruce almost never uses it, but I guess he figured if you’ve got a bazillion dollars and you’re gonna take in feral acrobats as a new and eccentric hobby, you gotta trick out one room with stuff kids like.” He paused, his voice dropping to a teasing stage whisper that might as well have been an elbow in Bruce’s ribs; his presence had been noted. “Honestly, it was probably Alfred, I’d bet.”

“Yeah? I mean, home was…” Tommy’s pause was less a hesitation than a sinkhole in the middle of his sentence. “I mean, we’re rich. Were rich. But this place is bigger. We didn’t have like a movie theater in the house or anything. Dad would’ve—”

Bruce held his breath, but Dick didn’t break into the sudden anger of that bitten-off phrase.

Anger banked to bitter, and Tommy forged through the end of the sentence. “Dad would’ve said something like that was a waste for just me.”

There was another pause, but it seemed like Dick was just letting that moment breathe for a second, letting the hurt bleed a little, bleed off a little. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and so sincere Bruce was struck with gratitude that his protege was not merely clever and insightful, but so genuinely kind.

“Well, there’s two of us here. We’ll do movie nights, make sure we make good use of it.”

Tommy’s answer was quiet, shyly pleased. “Okay. That sounds good.”

Bruce figured he’d better make this his opportunity, otherwise the eavesdropping would stretch to a point that was just awkward. He stepped into the doorway, leaning against the jamb as he rapped his knuckles gently against the polished mahogany. “How’s it going in here?”

Dick turned to him with an amused raise of his brows, seated on Tommy’s bed with a plastic VHS case next to him. Tommy was standing next to him, his suitcase open on the foot of the bed, contents in the process of untidily transferring to the chest of drawers against the wall. It hit Bruce like a punch to the chest—and he’d know—the way Tommy visibly closed up at the sight of him.

He’d need to address that, and soon. At least try.

In fact…

Bruce cleared his throat and canted his head towards the hall. “Dick, can you give me a minute with Tommy? I’m sure Alfred could use some help with dinner.”

Dick launched gracefully to his feet with a melodramatic sigh and accompanying eyeroll. “Fine. I mean, it’s not like we can let you do it. I want dinner to be edible, and Alfred doesn’t deserve that kind of stress.”

Bruce just rolled his eyes towards the ceiling as if his patience were perhaps hidden in the attic. Dick snickered. He passed Bruce and out the door, squawking indignantly as Bruce took mild revenge by ruffling his hair. Dick bobbed away and stampeded down the hall.

Bruce smiled fondly after him a moment before turning to Tommy.

The younger boy wasn’t looking at him, head bent as he sloppily folded a pair of jeans that had been more neatly folded before he began. His movements were slow and clumsy, and Bruce knew he was paying less attention to his task than he was to appearing to not pay attention to Bruce.

Inhaling deeply, Bruce reached for somewhere to begin. “Mind if I come in?”

Tommy looked up at him, first with surprise, then muted skepticism. “It’s your house.”

“And your room,” Bruce pointed out mildly, inclining his head. Tommy blinked at him and he let his smile show just a little more. “Hopefully you’ll think of this as your house, too, someday.”

That statement struck.

Bruce’s chest clenched in surprise and a tinge of regret at the way Tommy’s face flickered—first with shock, then a longing so piercing it howled, then a cynical misery he wasn’t nearly old enough for—before blanking entirely.

Tommy’s only answer, in the end, was a shrug.

Wincing, Bruce scratched idly at the back of his neck. “You don’t have to, of course. I don’t want to pressure you, Tommy. I know this is all sudden, and very far from home, and you don’t know me well.”

Tommy stared at him, jeans forgotten in his hands and brows pulling together with each word in a dubious frown. “Well. Yeah.”

Bruce chuckled a little awkwardly, at himself. He wasn’t exactly sticking this landing. “I’m just trying to say that I hope you can feel comfortable here. I want you to feel like this is home. Like you have a place here.”

Tommy worried his upper lip with his teeth, brows still knotted over that steady gaze. For a moment, he looked like he might actually show Bruce how he was really feeling, like they might actually, really connect.

His thin chest expanded on a deep breath, and Bruce waited, hopeful.

But then Tommy’s face twisted in a duh expression Dick would have been proud to pull off. He smirked in that ridiculing way only children manage, but his tone wasn’t mean so much as teasing when he said, “That’s what you were trying to say?”

Bruce wished he could take back the laugh that startled out of him. He genuinely did. It only encouraged Tommy to push that fake humor further.

Tommy’s smirk bloomed into a grin that would have been brilliant if it hadn’t been paper thin. “You’re not very good with words, are you.”

Bruce arched his brows at the sling of that sass. God, if he and Dick ever ganged up on him, he was in deep shit.

Worse, he was about to have to squash it.

He couldn’t just let this go on. Let Tommy keep tumbling into whatever role he thought would play best to his new audience whenever he didn’t want to feel what he was feeling, or was afraid how it would be used against him.

(It made the fist in his pocket clench, to think of who must have taught him that survival mechanism. He was a little boy. No nine-year-old should be this attuned to the moods of the adults around them. Too many, too many of those adults had shaped Tommy this way when he was too young and too malleable, and if the first to do it weren’t already dead, Bruce would be hunting down Malcolm Merlyn under cape and cowl for a reckoning.)

“You don’t have to do that, Tommy.”

He said it softly, but Tommy still flinched. Barely visible, too consciously suppressed for Bruce’s comfort.

His chin briefly wobbling, Tommy widened his eyes and stiffened his upper lip, looking down at his half empty suitcase and deflecting, “It seems rude to make that Alfred guy do it. They’re my underwear.”

Bruce sighed. “You know I’m not talking about your clothes.” Finally, he moved into the room, stopping a couple feet on the opposite side of the bed, both hands in his pockets, shoulders in a posture intended not to intimidate. Tommy hunched anyways. “You don’t have to make me laugh to stay here. You don’t have to be anything to stay here. Just you. I know you’ve been shuffled around and left waiting to know where you were allowed to be. So I’ll just say it. You’re allowed to be here.”

Tommy’s head jerked up and he stared, eyes round and tense, that betraying wobble back in his chin. His breath hissed too rapidly from his nose, knuckles going white on the edge of his open suitcase. Quiet but heated, he whispered, “For now.”

Bruce felt his own face betray him, saw Tommy’s sharp eyes clock the devastated twitch of his brows, the parting of his lips.

Immediately, reflexively, Tommy’s mouth split in another grin bright and false as tinted foil. “I mean. You said I’m going back to Starling for school, right? So. For—for now. Then, I’m back at school. I’ve never been in the dorms. It’ll probably be… cool.”

Bruce firmed his jaw and tucked his chin, meeting Tommy’s fevered eyes seriously. He ignored the entire tumble of words, cutting through the panic, through the act. Direct, Bruce Wayne could do. “You belong here. Not just now. Yes, you’ll go back to school. And when school is out, you’ll be back. Because you’ll still belong here.”

Tommy’s defenses—too well built, too resilient—finally cracked. His grin faltered, slipped. And when it dropped entirely, tears spilled sudden as a faucet over Tommy’s cheeks. He jerked, wiped frantically at his face, and when the tears kept coming and his breath hitched in a sob, he turned sharply away, putting his back to Bruce.

“I-I’m fine,” he stammered damply. “I’m fine. Sorry. I’m fine.”

Bruce’s heart clenched so tightly he thought it might implode from the pain of seeing how disposable this child had been made to feel. “No. You’re not. And that’s okay. Even if you’re not fine, you still belong here.” He paused as Tommy glanced at him over his shoulder, face red, tears still coming, shoulders shaking. “I probably should have said that in the first place.”

Maybe it was time to stop waiting on Tommy. Maybe it was time to reach towards him first for once. Bruce moved around the foot of the bed, stopping and sitting gingerly beside the suitcase when Tommy whirled towards him, tripping back a step over his own feet.

Bruce tried a smile for him as Tommy just stared at him and cried. He still hadn’t responded to being told he belonged. Bruce suspected he was afraid to.

Sighing, he nodded, smile rueful. “You were right, I’m not very good with words.”

This surprised a wet laugh out of Tommy, a muffled giggle that made him sound more his actual age. “Told you.”

Bruce’s eyes crinkled back at Tommy, and Tommy tried to fist the wet tracks off his red cheeks.

Lifting his head higher, Bruce pushed the suitcase towards the pillows and patted the comforter beside him. “Well. I may not be the best with words, but I’m told I’m great with a hug.” He held an arm out to the side, an offer. “If that’s alright?”

Tommy hesitated, biting his lip so hard Bruce worried it would bleed. Finally, haltingly, Tommy closed the steps to the bed and sat next to Bruce. Meeting him halfway. Bruce’s heart soared in triumph and relief and he wrapped his arm around Tommy’s shoulders—too thin, small for his age—and squeezed him gently against his side.

Letting his head fall against his shoulder, Tommy tsked. “Great with a hug, huh?” Bruce looked down at him with a raised eyebrow and caught the edge of Tommy’s smirk, the boy’s head angled down. This smile, at least, looked real. “Somebody lied to you.”

Bruce didn’t try not to laugh this time, and Tommy’s joined his, filling the room.

He hoped it was a sound they’d all get used to.

—————

@memcjo @klaus-hargreeves-katz @its-a-pygmy-puffle @keabbs @princesssarcastia @obscure-sentimentalist @icannotbelieveiamhere @p0cketw0tch @andyouweremine @storiesofimagination @acheaptrickandacheesyoneline @cronusamporaofficial @batsonthebrain @adeusminhacolombina @relevanttosomeone

#tommy merlyn #bruce wayne #dick grayson #arrow #arrow fic #batfam #family and (mis)fortune au #fam au #bruce is just a tall child trying to pretend he has any business raising short children #but oh my god does he try #Anonymous #asked and answered

[thecaptainsgingersnap]

New OC Introduction

B A S I C S

full name: Veronica ”Roni" Mae Tanner a.k.a. Nimue

gender: Female

sexuality: Straight

pronouns: She/her

O T H E R S

family: Carli Tanner (twin sister), Hope Tanner nee Bullock (mother deceased) Jason Tanner (father, deceased)

birthplace: Starling City

job: CEO, vigilante

phobias:  snakes, sharks, being buried alive

guilty pleasures: Video games, Disney movies, Big Belly Burger

M O R A L S

morality alignment?: Neutral good

sins - lust/greed/gluttony/sloth/pride/envy/wrath

virtues - chastity/charity/diligence/humility/kindness/patience/justice

T H I S - O R - T H A T

introvert/extrovert:

organized/disorganized:

close minded/open-minded:

calm/anxious:

disagreeable/agreeable:

cautious/reckless: \

patient/impatient:

outspoken/reserved:

leader/follower

empathetic/unemphatic:

optimistic/pessimistic:

traditional/modern:

hard-working/lazy:

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

otp: Tommy Merlyn (Rommy)

ot3: N/A

brotp: Oliver Queen & Felicity Smoak

notp: Curtis Holt

#roni mae tanner #arrow #arrow oc #oliver queen #felicity smoak #tommy merlyn #curtis holt #rene ramirez #laurel lance #dinah drake #my ocs #moodboard

[obscure-sentimentalist]

Prompt from @absentlyabbie, for the “lighthearted” prompt list: Distortion Twins, 45 (”Can we go home yet?”)

[Come on. There was no way I could make this completely lighthearted. But it’s in there somewhere, I promise.]

Part of the Distortion ‘verse AU

“Can we go home yet?”

The first time Tommy asks that question, voice tiny and wavering from equal parts fear and tears, Tate almost throws himself at his brother to clap a hand tightly over his mouth.

He knows enough not to wonder that aloud, even before Dad turns a cold, cold glance on them.

(Only his head turns, and just enough that Tate can glimpse the side of his face over his shoulder. Even now, their dad still refuses to look directly at his sons.)

“Home is gone,” he tells them tersely, without any sort of padding to soften the blow. “And you will not be returning to Starling City for quite some time. Not until you’ve shown me who you can be.”

It’s hardly an unexpected answer amid the tangle their lives have become in the short time since they’ve been uprooted, but Tate still hears Tommy’s barely smothered whimper at the response. There’s a difference between making a really good guess based on what’s happened, and hearing it confirmed out loud by the person in charge.

The sound is apparently loud enough that it doesn’t stay between the twins, and Dad finally pivots on his heel, looking down at the two of them huddled on the floor of this strange (and cold, so cold) place. Something flickers in his eyes, like a spark, but instead of lighting a flame that could warm the room—could comfort—it just sucks what little life lingers in the room into the gaping maw of a monster.

“Someday,” he tells them, easing himself into a crouch at their level with an eerie fluidity and reaching both hands out for each to find a twin’s cheek. Tommy leans into the touch almost unconsciously, eyes screwed tight even as his arms loosen from their grip around his knees, but to Tate, it’s like being grazed by the smooth, uninviting marble of his mother’s gravestone.

“You’ll see the city again someday,” their father continues, sweet promise unspooling like an unending chain of handkerchiefs drawn from a magician’s sleeve. “And it will be better—perfect. A kingdom we can call our own.” At that, he leans in to skim a kiss over two dark heads of hair, but it’s performative, no substance whatsoever to the gesture. “But you need to prove to me that you’re willing to fight for it. That you can earn it. And that’s why your training starts now.”

Just as swiftly as they came, his hands slip away, and Malcolm Merlyn straightens to head for the heavy door on the other end of the room.

When Tate lets out a shaky breath through his mouth after Dad has left and shut the door again, he swears it’s not as visible as it was a moment earlier.

. . .

The second time Tate hears that broken question, the twins are grown, battered men, and yet Tommy sounds hardly any different from that terrified 11-year-old hugging his knees.

“Can we go home yet?” Tommy’s curled on his side on his bed, gaze visibly slipping in and out of focus between the physical here and whatever jagged terrain makes up his mind.

Carefully, Tate sets down his cleaning cloth and the blade he’s been treating, and pads quietly over to his brother’s bedside.

“I thought you had a plan,” he gently reminds Tommy as he sinks down and slides his back against the wall next to the bed until his legs are stretched out in front of him on the floor. “Details, moving pieces to account for, all these things working together so we can get out safe and free.” Tate tilts his head, the slightest frown of confusion forming in his brow. “Are you saying we just drop everything and run now?”

Tommy shakes his head slowly, sheets shuffling at the motion. “I have a plan,” he affirms, “and we’ll stick with it. But I… it just seems so far away. I can’t even bring myself to think about what it’ll be like, getting out.”

His arm drops limply from the mattress to dangle over the side, prompting Tate to poke at it in straight-up little brother fashion, as a comfort. “Why don’t you take a guess?” he prompts.

There comes a faint, affirmative hum from the bed, before Tommy shifts and a touch more alertness floods into his eyes. “I want to know what Ollie’s up to,” he confesses, which hardly comes as a surprise to Tate. “There… I saw a report while I was away, a while back. He went missing for a few years before he was finally found, and he was easing back into civilization. Back into Starling.”

Tommy shuffles a bit more until he’s fully on his right side, and levels a compelling, wondering stare at Tate. “Do you think it’ll be like that for us? People ready to welcome us back, and we finally get the chance to fit ourselves into society the way we want to?”

Even beyond the murmurings he’s heard lately about Starling City and their father, Tate feels his insides twist at the repeated “us” and “we.” Such a cutting reminder of what he’s promised his brother, and what he’s going to have to do in order to see Tommy through to safety.

But that doesn’t have to come just yet.

“Sure,” Tate says instead, allowing himself to dip his toes into the waters of Tommy’s predicted future for just a moment. “That… that sounds just perfect.”

. . .

“Tate. We’ve been standing in this aisle for ten minutes. Pick a brand already.”

Tate acknowledges that with only a sharp glance over his shoulder out of the corner of his eye, before returning his attention to the shelf in front of him. “Buying box mix is a delicate thing,” he reminds his brother, fingers skimming the tops of cardboard boxes in consideration. “You want to make a cake but don’t have the patience to do it from scratch? Fine. But I am not eating something that tastes like a loaf of sawdust.”

“Oh, and you intend to determine if a brand be worthy how? Last I checked, you’re no connoisseur of the Pillsburys versus the Betty Crockers. When the hell have you even eaten box-mix cake before?”

In truth, both of them know the answer is most likely never. Even childhood birthday cakes came custom-made from a bakery.

Still, Tate persists, fighting the rising smirk as he continues to purposely poke and prod at Tommy’s ire. “I’ll just know,” he says simply, making as if to reach for one box (store brand Devil’s Food) before seemingly changing his mind at the last second. “Call it intuition.”

He can almost feel Tommy’s eye twitching as his glare bores into the back of Tate’s head.

“Oh, I’ll call it something,” Tommy mutters, before smacking Tate’s roaming hand away and snatching a box of rainbow chip (excellent choice) and matching frosting off the shelf. He shakes the goods in his hands for emphasis. “There. Choice made. You’re gonna have to live with it.” Then, an exasperated but almost relieved sigh: “Can we go home yet?”

And for once, those words don’t make Tate’s blood rush with an unsettling chill of panic, or heart ache with the knowledge of promises he can’t make. Instead, there’s just warmth through every limb, and the flash of a cozy little apartment with a spirited blonde ready to yank the twins into a breath-stealing group hug.

At last, for this third time—and hopefully the first in a line of future happy answers—Tate playfully shoves his brother’s shoulder and says, “Yeah, we can go home now.”

#obscure-sentimentalist writes sometimes #merlyn boys #distortion 'verse #I was feeling inspired today #take that as the warning it is

[the-witching-ash]

WBW-Gwen Merlyn?

B A S I C S

full name: Guinevere Anne Merlyn

gender: female

sexuality: bisexual

pronouns: she/her

O T H E R S

family: Cisco Ramon, Olivia Merlyn, Tommy Merlyn, Cassandra Merlyn, Becca Merlyn

birthplace: Starling City

job: Scientist at Star Labs

phobias: bugs

guilty pleasures: Chocolate, Star Wars (blame Cisco for this one) 

M O R A L S

morality alignment?: True Neutral 

sins - lust/greed/gluttony/sloth/pride/envy/wrath

virtues - chastity/charity/diligence/humility/kindness/patience/justice

T H I S - O R - T H A T

introvert/extrovert: introvert

organized/disorganized: disorganized

close minded/open-minded: open-minded

calm/anxious: anxious

disagreeable/agreeable: agreeable

cautious/reckless: cautious

patient/impatient: impatient

outspoken/reserved: reserved

leader/follower: follower 

empathetic/unemphatic: empathetic

optimistic/pessimistic: optimistic

traditional/modern: traditional 

hard-working/lazy: hard-working

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

otp: Gwen/Cisco

ot3: Gwen/Caitlin/Cisco

brotp: Gwen/Barry

notp: Gwen/Ralph

#oc: guinevere merlyn