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pufflyhallows · 5 years

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Overreading

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

a/n: It’s been a long while since I last posted a fic. I must say I’m pretty happy to be back! Enjoy this little idea I had a while back and just now got the time to actually write it. ALSO, credits to Pottermore! I took inserts from there to work out this one :)

Summary: You’re an anxious girl who always follows the rules. Fred and George change that a little and save the day after you lose your permit to go to Hogsmeade.

Word count: 2,395

Warnings: a bit angsty

*******

“We’ve come to give you a bit of festive cheer before we go. Come in here...”

You heard a familiar voice from behind the one-eyed statue, where you were standing while you searched for your Hogsmeade permit in your bag. You stopped, feeling frustrated that you couldn’t find the parchment, and suddenly you heard a door being opened not far from you. You walked around the statue and saw three very familiar figures going inside a room. You approached the door after it was closed and tried to listen to the people inside, just to make sure if you knew them.

“Early Christmas present for you, Harry,” you heard the voice of your friend, George Weasley.

“What’s that supposed to be?” Harry asked in a very suspecting tone.

“This, Harry, is the secret of our success,” George said. You could hear the sound of paper being handled.

“It’s a wrench, giving it to you,” said Fred, “but we decided last night, your need’s greater than ours.”

“Anyway, we know it off by heart,” said George, “We bequeath it to you. We don’t really need it anymore.”

“And what do I need with a bit of old parchment?” said Harry.

“A bit of old parchment!” said Fred offended, “Explain, George!”

“Well... when we were in our first year, Harry-”

“Miss Y/L/N, what are you doing here?” Professor McGonagall questioned, startling you.

“I-Um-I was... looking for my permit!” you walked away from the door and opened your bag to pretend you were searching.

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to join your classmates on this trip if you still haven’t found the document,” she adverted.

“Maybe if my parents write a letter saying I can go...”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. The rule is very simple: no permit, no trip,” the professor gave you a pitying look and left.

You sighed in complete discontentment. Taking off your scarf, you started walking back to your dorm, but someone pulled you from behind, placing their arms around your waist.

“What the-Fred!” you looked at the ginger boy, who had pulled you inside the empty classroom where they were having their conversation, “What the hell?!”

“Congratulations!” he smiled, “All your problems have been solved.”

“What?” you frowned.

“We know you were listening to our conversation behind the door,” said George, “Don’t worry,” he raised his hand when you mumbled an excuse, “We heard yours too.”

“And we think you need this just as much as Harry,” said Fred. The third boy gave you a sympathetic look that you gladly returned, although you were very confused.

George took out his wand, touched a piece of parchment on one of the desks lightly and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider’s web from the point that George’s wand had touched. They joined each other, they criss-crossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that proclaimed: Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present THE MARAUDER’S MAP.

“Right into Hogsmeade,” said Fred, tracing one of the passages showed in the map with his finger. “This one leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes. We’ve used it loads of times. And as you might’ve noticed, the entrance is right outside this room, through that one-eyed old crone’s hump.”

Both you and Harry were astounded by the treasure in front of you.

“Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs,” you read, “Who are they?”

“We don’t know,” sighed George, “But we owe them so much.”

“Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of law-breakers,” said Fred solemnly.

“Right,” said George briskly, “don’t forget to wipe it after you’ve used it –”

“– or anyone can read it,” Fred said warningly.

“Just tap it again and say, ‘Mischief managed!’ And it’ll go blank.”

“So, young Harry, young (y/n),” said Fred, in an uncanny impersonation of Percy, “mind you behave yourselves.”

“See you two in Honeydukes,” said George, winking.

They left the room, both smirking in a satisfied sort of way. You and Harry looked at each other quite hesitantly. You still flustered by that wink.

“Should we...?” you asked, the fear of being caught poking your chest.

“Why not?” Harry shrugged, but he didn’t look confident.

You followed his steps outside the classroom to the one-eyed statue. Harry stopped, read something on the map and whispered “Dissendium.” Right away, the statue opened itself, revealing a dark hole inside. You two entered it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peppermint Toads, Sugar Quills, Chocolate Frogs, Jelly Slugs... One by one, you admired the treats. You had never seen that many types of sweets before. Being a muggleborn had its own magical aspects, such as experiencing a lot of ‘first times’. Harry had invited you to go with him and search for his friends, but you knew he was just being polite, so you declined his offer with a thankful smile. You didn’t mind being alone, you actually enjoyed it.

Taking your time, you picked the treats that interested you the most. It was a very difficult mission since every single one of them was something completely different from what you were used to. But eventually, you managed to head to the checkout counter and pay for your purchases, leaving the store right after that.

Although you had spent the entire week longing your visit to Honeydukes, now that you had done it, you felt a bit lost. You looked around hoping to spot at least one of your friends and just follow them for the rest of the trip, but you didn’t see anyone familiar. You did see something interesting, though. How could you forget Tomes and Scrolls? Feeling excitement take over your body again, you entered the bookstore.

The comforting scent of old parchment was all over the place. You were amazed by the number of books around you. The shelves were stacked to the ceiling! You couldn’t stop a tiny smile that insisted to form on your face. That place was so cozy. You walked between the piles of books and the full shelves searching for something that could sparkle your interest. Finally, you found a book that seemed to be a fun reading: The Tales of Beedle the Bard. That title felt quite familiar, although you weren’t sure if you had heard of it. You bought the book and left the shop.

You decided to take a little walk in the village before heading to another establishment. The Shrieking Shack was a very appealing place to you since you had always liked to try to decipher things you didn’t understand. That haunted house story? You didn’t believe in that.

As you got further from the concentration of people and closer to the abandoned house, you felt colder. You knew it was because of the lack of human heat around you, but that small stubborn part of your conscience told you it was because of the spirits in the Shrieking Shack. Smiling at your own silliness, you kept walking until you reached the wooden fence that stopped the visitors from getting too close to the house.

“Spooky, huh?” you heard a voice right next to you and flinched.

“Bloody hell, George,” you whispered, placing a hand on your hard pounding chest.

“Sorry. I thought you heard me coming,” he apologized, but he had a very satisfied smile on his face.

“No, you didn’t,” you rolled your eyes jokingly.

George rested his arms on the fence beside you just like you were doing. His elbow was just a few inches away from yours. If only he knew what that small distance did to you.

“Do you know the story behind it?” he pointed at the house.

“I’ve heard it’s haunted,” you shrugged.

“The villagers say that screams and howls could be heard coming from inside as if dozens of souls were trapped in pure agony,” George said in a deep tone trying to frighten you.

“I don’t buy it,” you shook your head in disbelief, “I don’t believe in such thing.”

“Okay then. Do you wanna find out if it’s true?”

“How?”

“We could go there and see for ourselves,” he proposed.

“No, thank you,” you snorted.

“I thought you weren’t scared,” he teased.

“I’m not. I said I don’t think it’s haunted, but it doesn’t mean it’s empty. For as far as I know, there could be a murderer hiding, just waiting for his next victim to be stupid enough to go inside,” you stepped back and crossed your arms, “So no, thank you.”

“You really think these things through, don’t you?” he said, also stepping back, putting his hands on his jeans’ pockets.

“I guess I just watched a lot of horror movies,” you shrugged.

George seemed slightly confused but shrugged it off as well. Probably a muggle thing, he thought.

“Well, that’s a bummer,” he sighed, “I was hoping I would finally be able to show off my dueling skills.”

You laughed.

“Dueling skills?” you looked at him, “I would die to see you dueling.”

“You really underestimate me,” he played offended.

“I’m joking, silly,” you gently pushed him, “Hey, where’s Fred?”

“At Zonko’s looking at some new stuff.”

“Why aren’t you there?”

“You want me to go away? Okay then,” he walked a few steps away but you pulled him back by his arm.

“You know I don’t,” you said, trying to ignore the fact that his arm was unexpectedly strong, “But seriously, though. Why are you here?”

“I wanted to look for you. I didn’t find you at Honeydukes,” he shrugged.

“So what? You didn’t have to worry about me, you could’ve just enjoyed your trip,” you told him, feeling guilty for having forgotten you were supposed to wait for them.

George looked at you like you were crazy.

“It wouldn’t be that fun if you weren’t with me.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you looked at him feeling your cheeks burn.

“Of course it would,” you shook your head and looked down, “You have been here without me before.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know you back then,” he moved closer and you looked at him.

Your heart started pounding as he shortened the distance between you two. Little did you know that he could barely breathe at that moment and suddenly all the cold you felt before disappeared.

“And does that make any difference?” you asked, hope more than noticeable in your tone.

“Yes. A lot, actually,” he let out.

“Good,” you nodded slowly, “Because it does to me as well.”

“Good,” George copied you, also nodding.

“There you are!” you two startled at the interruption. Disappointment took over your bodies as you both realized your little moment was shattered into several pieces. “I had been looking for you, guys.”

“Well, you found us,” you smiled at Fred. How could he know, after all?

“Just in time,” said George sarcastically.

“Lee is waiting for us at The Three Broomsticks,” Fred told you, “C’mon.”

“The Three Broomsticks!” you gasped, “I’ve heard so many things about that place. Let’s go!”

George smiled discreetly at your excitement. How could you be so adorable?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As your group left Zonko’s laughing at the end of the trip, you felt your heart full of happiness. You were so thankful for your amazing friends. After having your first butterbeer at the most famous pub in Hogsmeade, the boys dragged you to the joke shop. You never thought you could laugh that much in your life. Seeing Percy have a fit of hiccoughing after eating the Hiccough Sweet the twins gave him made you feel guilty but also laugh really hard.

George wasn’t feeling any different from you. He was very happy to see one of his dearest friends having so much fun. Especially when the friend in question was you, the girl he cultivated feelings for. Besides, you were always so worried about following the rules that sometimes it stopped you from having fun. George felt relief and pride as he heard your lovely and rare laugh.

“Today was definitely one of the best days of my life,” you told them sincerely.

“Then you should hang out with us more often, Y/N,” Lee raised his eyebrows accusingly.

“You are a hundred percent right!” you raised your finger as you replied.

“I’m sure it won’t be ‘a life of endless pain’ until the next trip, Mr. Finnigan. You can head back to the castle now,” Professor McGonagall spoke not far from you. It was time to go back, although none of you wanted, and the Transfiguration teacher was already telling the students to move.

“Oh, Merlin! She can’t see me here,” you reminded the boys desperately, “She thinks I’m in Hogwarts.”

“C’mon,” George held your hand and guided you quickly through the people, leaving Lee and Fred behind. You only stopped when you reached the door of Honeydukes. “You’re going back the same way you came.”

“But what if someone sees me?” the fear of being caught emerged again.

“I’ll be waiting for you at the one-eyed statue. I’ll make sure no one sees you,” he smiled, trying to make you calm.

“Can’t you come with me?” you asked, almost begging.

“Sorry, doll. I have to be seen entering the castle with Fred. Otherwise, they’ll send Filch after me,” he joked, but it was true. Professor McGonagall would make sure every student was back safe and sound.

“Okay...” you nodded but winced, “Oh, gosh. It was so much easier when I wasn’t alone.”

“Hey, you’re not alone. I’m right here with you!” George put his arm around your shoulders. “All you gotta do is go to the cellar and walk all that way back to the castle. I’ll be there waiting for you at the statue like I said. And don’t think about anything, just keep walking.”

You nodded quite hesitantly. Although he managed to calm you a bit, you were still anxious.

“Now go. The longer you stay here worrying, the worse it gets,” he slightly pushed you towards the store.

“Okay,” you walked two steps and looked back.

George smiled kindly at you and nodded. You took a deep breath and entered the shop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as you stepped out of the statue, you saw George looking from one side to the other, keeping his promise and guarding the perimeter.

You ran towards him and hugged him tightly. It could be seen as something silly by other people, but for you those situations that had a risk of being caught made your anxiety go through the roof. That’s why you always followed the rules.

“H-Hey!” he chuckled and hugged you back, but also melting at the totally unexpected action.

“Oh my God, I thought I was going to die,” you spoke against his neck, “I think Mr. Flume saw me.”

“Who the hell is Mr. Flume?” he asked smiling at your adorableness.

“Honeydukes’ owner! He’s gonna tell Dumbledore. I’m doomed.”

“He’s probably used to it, Y/N. He must have people walking around his entire shop every day,” George let go of your embrace to look at you. “And he doesn’t even know your name! How would he report you?”

“I don’t-I don’t know.”

“Just take a deep breath. Like this,” he breathed slowly and you copied him. It did make you feel better.

“Thank you, George,” you looked him in the eyes, “For today. I really needed it.”

“You’re welcome, silly,” he hugged you again and this time it lasted a bit longer. It was so strange how your bodies fit so perfectly. Every time you hugged him, it felt like... home. You felt safe in his arms in a way you never felt before in your life. And it was so strange because how could that be possible? You knew each other for such a short amount of time.

“Now we should get going,” George said when you split, trying really hard to hide the fact that he was a flustered mess. “Everyone’s await in the Great Hall.”

You nodded. But before he could walk, you placed a soft kiss on his cheek. And before he could say anything, you started walking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I bought a pair of nose-biting teacups,” Lee said excitedly at the table, “I think I’m just gonna leave them around the common room and watch the unlucky people get mad.”

“Nice job in reveling your plan, Lee. Now Y/N won’t be one of them,” Fred patted his shoulder.

“I didn’t want Y/N to get her nose bitten,” Lee shrugged.

“Thanks for being a true friend, Lee,” you moved closer to Fred to say those words and he smiled.

You and your friends talked about the day and shared your different perspectives. The most interesting one was by far yours. George looked at you with a tender expression while you told them your impressions of the village. The happiness in your voice was so evident that made him feel happy too. He had been to Hogsmeade several times over the years, but this one was definitely the most special one, apart from his very first time. George never thought he would find cute the excited way a muggleborn talks about the Wizarding World, but he did.

“I can’t wait to go to Honeydukes again,” you sighed. “But the proper way this time,” you looked at George with a playful smile.

“Boring,” he shook his head jokingly.

Before you could reply, an owl entered the Great Hall and dropped a letter in front of you. You grabbed the letter but threw it back on the table after you saw who it was from.

“I’m really tired,” you told your friends standing up, your expression completely different from the one you had minutes before, “I think I’m gonna head to the dormitories.”

The boys didn’t say a word, too intrigued by that letter and your reaction to it.

“Goodnight,” you said leaving.

“Y/N, your letter!” Lee waved it at you.

You ignored him and kept walking towards the Great Hall doors.

“Who’s it from?” Fred asked, taking the letter from Lee’s hand and reading the envelope, “It’s someone from her family. Look, it’s her last name.”

George read it and instantly understood why you didn’t want to open that letter.

“It’s from her father,” he said and the two boys still didn’t understand, “Y/N doesn’t really talk about him, but I remember she said something in the train when we came back in September. I think they had a fight or something.”

Fred and Lee looked at each other.

“You two are really close, huh?” Fred raised an eyebrow, teasing his brother.

“Shut up,” George stood up and took the letter from Fred to go after you.

He walked fast in the hope he would reach you before you could go inside your dormitory, and only stopped when he arrived at the common room. He looked around and found you sitting on the couch next to Harry Potter. George wasn’t supposed to feel that way, but the insistent jealousy took over his heart as he saw you placing a hand on Harry’s knee and rubbing your thumb on it.

“I don’t know what happened, and you don’t have to tell me, but just remember that you’ve got great friends by your side and you’re not alone,” you told Harry and stood up, receiving an attempt of a smile in return. You two weren’t friends, but you had always been really nice to each other and he was the first person to talk to you in Hogwarts. When you saw his sad semblance, you knew something was wrong with him and you had to make sure he knew everything was going to be okay, even if you didn’t know what was happening.

“Hey, George!” Angelina called, making him look away from you and your new best friend, “Do you wanna play?”

The girl showed him the deck of Exploding Snap and he felt angry. Not at her, not at you, not at Harry. At himself. He’d been falling in love with you for a while now, but you two had an awesome friendship and he was so afraid of ruining it. And now there you were, having a little cute moment with his brother’s best friend. ‘The boy who lived’, the big hero. But he wasn’t going to think bad things about Harry, not at that moment, not ever.

“Yes,” he replied to Angelina.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Harry said, “It means a lot.”

You nodded at him and walked to your dormitory. You felt observed but didn’t mind. Once you got to your room, you felt the tears blurring your vision as your father’s words echoed in your ears.

“I thought my daughter would be a lawyer, a doctor or even a fucking teacher.”

He said to your mother in the car when he thought you weren’t listening, but your headphones weren’t playing the music yet.

“School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” he scoffed, “What’s her future gonna be like?”

“A more exciting one,” your mother replied calmly, “You should be happy.”

“I’d be happier if my daughter was normal and this nonsense didn’t exist.”

You sat on your bed and cried for a couple of minutes. Why would he send a letter? What did he have to say that couldn’t wait until summer? You weren’t going to read it. You chose to preserve your mental health rather than satisfying your curiosity.

Someone entered the room and you instinctively looked to the other side to hide your face, but you were sure the person could tell you were crying.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Hermione Granger asked as she walked closer.

“Yes. I just need...” you sniffed and wiped your tears. You needed George. “I need to go.”

You stood up abruptly and left a worried Hermione behind. You walked down the stairs to the common room and heard laughter coming from one corner. Looking at that way, you saw George playing some cards with his teammates. It wouldn’t be a problem if you hadn’t seen Angelina Johnson placing her hand on his and leaning her body to the side just to touch his shoulder with hers while she laughed. Visibly just an excuse to get closer.

You didn’t know how to react when you saw that he was laughing too and that he didn’t move his hand away from hers. But why would he, anyway? He could do whatever he wanted. What you didn’t expect was that he would notice you on the other side of the room. George locked his eyes in yours and frowned when he noticed how puffy they were. It was still wet under them and your cheeks and nose were very rosy. At that moment he realized you had been crying.

When George moved on his chair to stand up, you ran back to your room.

*******

Edit: Part 2 is here.

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stillthewordgirl · 7 years

Text

CC/LOT fic: Central City Rendezvous, ch. 15 (of 16)

Rip Hunter never came for the Legends. But maybe some meetings are meant to be.

This one takes place during an equivalent time to the Flash episode “The Race of His Life.” Because of the events of the last chapter, however, circumstances are even more different than they were before!

Thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta!

Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

“Barry. We can’t just stay in here forever.” Henry Allen’s voice is gentle, if frustrated. Standing in the bowels of S.T.A.R. Labs, where the group has gathered after Zoom’s abortive attempt at kidnapping him… and, they all know, most likely far worse… he’s been trying to get through to his son for a while now. “I know what you’re feeling… I know what you’re thinking… but hiding isn’t the answer. Not for me… and not for you.”

“What else are we supposed to do?” Barry Allen’s voice is also frustrated, with cracks around the edges. The speedster is pacing, pacing, turning and pacing more. “He nearly killed you. He had you. He would have killed you.” He stops again, then turns and stares at Leonard, who’s parked himself in the doorframe, Sara learning next to him.

“Thank you,” he says, for about the 10th time in the past few hours. “I mean… really. Thank you.” He shakes his head, the gesture managing to convey gratitude, fear, amazement, frustration and more. “I owe you. I… I’ve only just gotten him back, I don’t know what I’d do…”

The outpouring is too much. “Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome. I’ll figure out some sort of payback. You might regret it.” For all the casual sarcasm, he meets Henry Allen’s sincere eyes briefly, then glances away again. “He’s right, though. Can’t live your life in protective custody.”

“And, frankly, if anyone needs to be in protective custody, it’s Mr. Snart.” Harrison Wells’ voice is dry; he’s been observing the drama from the other side of the room, where he’d entered after double-checking on Wally West and Jessie. “Zoom already hates his Earth-2 version. And now he knows this onecan hurt him.” The look he gives Leonard holds respect. “I knew about that gun, but I have to admit, I didn’t realize just how effective it would be.”

“Yeah, well.” He can’t help but put his hand on the cold gun, protectively. “I’m not staying in here. Doesn’t solve anything.” He glances at Sara, though, unable to stop the impulse. She meets his gaze, lifting an eyebrow as she smiles.

“Don’t even think about it,” she tells him. “I’ve never run away from a fight yet.”

He also can’t stop the smirk in response. “Right.” His gaze turns back to Wells, then Barry. “He’s a coward. Zoom. He only goes after things and people he thinks can’t hurt him. I’d guess that’s why he’s so into the idea of using hostages.”

Wells nods. “You’re not wrong,” he says, stepping farther into the room. “And not only is it useful to him, he’s invested in the idea of… of loved ones being a weakness.” He frowns, gaze turning inward, then shakes his head. “And they are, I suppose. But…”

“But what else do we live for?” Barry’s voice is quiet. “What I don’t get is… what does he want?”

Wells exchanges a long speaking glance with Henry, then shrugs. “Besides turning you into him, or trying? He wants to finish conquering Earth-2 and then take over this Earth.”

“Does he, though?” Sara muses. “Because he’s not going about it very well. The only speedster around here is Barry. At least until he… encountered… the cold gun, he must have thought Barry was the only real threat to him. So why hasn’t he just killed him?” She shrugs at the speedster’s expression. “Sorry. Assassin, remember? It’s how I think.”

Barry looks half appalled, half amused. “So why didn’t you think of it until now?”

“She’s been… distracted,” Leonard drawls as Sara laughs.

“Stop! I don’t want to know!”

“Lance has a point.” Wells, ignoring the byplay, looks thoughtful. “Honestly, I figured he was sort of… well… playing with his food. But I think you’re right; there’s something else going on here.”

The arrival of Cisco Ramon is heralded by a flurry of footsteps, and the other man appears in the doorway behind Wells, trotting into the room quickly enough that Barry gives him a look of alarm.

“Cisco, have you vibed… that… again? What did you call it? The end of the world?”

“Um. No.” The other man sidles past Wells. “But I’ve vibed something else since. Twice now.” He takes a deep breath. “Just… ice. Like, a wave of it, and a sense of mega-cold.”

He gives Barry and Wells a quick headshake as Leonard and Sara glance at each other, then continues. “And a smell in the air. Something, I dunno, coppery. And warm, which is weird.”

“Blood,” Sara provides flatly. “That’s what it sounds like.”

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe.” Cisco comes to a halt in front of Leonard and takes another deep breath. “Can I… borrow the cold gun?” he asks carefully. “I want to make copies. I should have asked weeks ago, given our speedster problems, but I think I underestimated it.”

He gives Leonard a quick glance. “Wells—err, sorry, Harry, Thawn—destroyed the original version last year. I have my notes, but dude, I think you’ve made a lot of modifications. That thing works waaayyy better than the gun I made.”

“Flattery, Ramon?” But he can’t help tapping the gun a touch protectively again, avoiding the others’ eyes, even Sara’s.

The cold gun had upped his game. Made him more than a common crook. Even as part of his ego shies away from that notion, a tiny part still holds onto it. The gun was his ticket…

To what? Defeating the Flash? He’s been working with the man for weeks now. To being something special, even among the upper echelon of jewel thieves? He’s not sure he has anything left to prove, there, or wants to if he does. To showing… his father…

His fingers tighten on the weapon convulsively… then flex and let go.

“Few conditions.” He fixes Ramon with a glare. “I get the original back.”

“OooK…” The younger man takes a half-step backward, but nods.

“And I work on this project too. I don’t have notes for the changes. It’s all in my head.”

“Gotcha.” There’s definitely respect there. “Hoped you would, actually. Need a sneaky-type mind. Um… that’s a compliment.”

“Figured.” He matches Sara’s grin with a shadow of a smirk of his own, then looks back at Barry. “So. We need a plan. I say you go call him out.”

Barry blinks at him. “Wait. What? Zoom?”

“MmHmm. If he wants you for something, he won’t hurt you. Act scared; he won’t look closer. And then you…” He smirks at the speedster. “… buy us some time.”

Cisco perks up. “Oooh, and in that time, we build a bunch of cold guns. With the cooperation of our other ‘super friends’-Ray, Kendra, Stein, Jax-we lay a trap.” He spreads his hands. “Barry leads him into it. And badda bing, badda boom, Zoom’s an icicle. Party time!” He holds his fist up to Leonard, who stares at him until he slowly lowers it. “Well. Yay.”

For a long few minutes, the six people in the room just look at each other.

“We do it right, that might work,” Wells says finally. “He’s going to be more cautious, now, and it’ll be tough. But it just might work.”

Barry sighs. “In the meantime, though, I do want you,” he looks at his father, “to stay here. You’re right that you can’t stay forever. But we know Zoom’s gunning for you.” He takes a ragged breath. “It would make me feel better, OK?”

Faced with that, Henry Allen sighs and acquiesces. Leonard has just started to turn to Sara (and her to him) when Barry points a finger at them.

“You two as well,” he says, and now there’s an almost Snart-like smirk on his face. “Harry’s right. Zoom’s not going to take the fact that you hurt him well, and he’s apparently already inclined to hate your doppelganger. And he’ll take you,” he looks at Sara, “to hurt him. You need to stay here.”

The crook and the assassin look at each other.

Leonard, noting the smile still lurking around Sara’s lips, sighs. “Both of us?”

“Yep.” Barry crosses his arms and does his best to look stubborn. “Everybody here, if possible, actually.”

“Give us back the med room again?” Sara chimes in, threading her fingers through Leonard’s and leaning toward him.

“Ye… yeah?”

“And disable all the cameras you have in there?” Leonard’s openly smirking again. There’s an actual bark of laughter from Henry Allen and a squeak from Cisco. Wells just shakes his head.

Barry gives them a flat look, aware at this point that he’s being messed with. “Sure,” he says with a sigh. “Why not? Want a waterbed while you’re at it?”

Sara perks up. “Oooh. Promise?”

Barry just throws his hands up in the air and turns away.

And with that, Operation: Let It Go (Cisco’s name, to Leonard’s great dismay) commences.

Barry, with the aid of Cisco, contacts Zoom, doing an authentic job of portraying a deathly frightened man who, though he knows his loved ones are as safe as can be expected at the moment, also knows that that’s not sustainable. (So, in other words, reality.)

Zoom seems to buy it. Neither of them mention the cold gun, although Barry later points out that the speedster stresses that he must come alone—and just may seem to be favoring his right shoulder.

Hunter Zolomon, it seems, wants a race.

You win: this is over, and you get to be the hero.

All I want to know is who’s the fastest man alive on either world.

A race, Barry, between you and me… to see who’s the fastest.

Barry agrees to do it… in a week’s time. To say farewell, just in case, he says.

And another race, this one against time, is on.

It doesn’t take long for Wells to figure out the magnetar angle, and that what Zolomon really wants is to use Barry’s speed with his own to destroy Earth-2 and all the other worlds. He’s puzzled, however, that Cisco’s vibes of what seem to be that situation have stopped.

However, the new ones, ice and what might be the scent of blood, continue. Cisco, relieved to dispense with the mass destruction in the other vibe, is flippant about it. (“Hey, that sounds like something from 'A Game of Thrones,’” he points out. “'Ice and Blood.’ Like, the anti-Targaryens, or something.”) And Barry, optimistically, takes it to mean their plan is going to work.

But Sara, watching, keeps noticing a thoughtfulness about Leonard when the subject arises. And although she doesn’t bring it up, she keeps watching… and makes sure she’s involved as much as possible in the cold gun plan.

Leonard insists that Mick be brought in on the project (to Cisco’s great dismay); Ray Palmer tags along, happily offering ideas to tweak the technology and managing to unite Cisco and Leonard in their annoyance at him. But they don’t have a lot of time, and they have to produce more cold guns, and Ray’s good at that sort of thing…

So they play nice.

(Although Leonard’s expression the first time Ray proudly shows off his installation of a cold-gun micro-engine in his suit’s weaponry is something Mick laughs about for days.)

Stein, Jax and Kendra, at least in their usual forms unknown to Zoom, wind up being their links to the outside world that week, with fast-food runs and courier work and at least one actual meal from Clarissa Stein. Everyone else stays put, for safety’s sake, though Joe remains somewhat cranky about having to take a week’s vacation time only to stay cooped up.

There are times that the S.T.A.R. Labs facility resembles a college dorm, that week. Mick somehow acquires several crates of alcohol (that Ray swears was legally obtained no matter how hard Mick laughs at him). No one gives him much grief about it, though, because he’s remarkably generous about sharing.

Cisco bemoans PDA in the hallways -between Sara and Leonard, who don’t even pretend they’re not together anymore; Iris and Barry, who’ve decided they’ve wasted enough time, thank you very much; and, in one notable case that has him stealing a full bottle of Mick’s Irish whiskey and loudly requesting “brain bleach,” Caitlin and Wells.

And the various temporary residents keep squabbling over who used all the good shampoo and hot water (it’s usually Cisco, for both), as well as what sort of recreation is available that evening and who’s taking part.

(One particular game of Never Have I Ever will live in S.T.A.R. Labs infamy—well, that’s what happens when it involves not only the lab crew, but two career crooks, an assassin who came back from the dead, a demigoddess, a physicist with a more interesting life history than anyone imagined, and a wealthy Boy Scout who built himself a shrinking suit. Joe West threatens to cart them all off to jail-and orders the fascinated [and supposedly impressionable] three youngest members of the group to cover their ears.)

And then Zoom’s deadline is up…

Operation: Let It Go has created four cold guns in addition to Leonard’s original and Ray’s adaptation.

And there’s no more time to plan.

The night before the deadline, S.T.A.R. Labs is actually quiet.

Everyone’s tucked away in whatever nook they’ve claimed for their own, in whatever combination. The med room is silent, except for the breathing of the two people lying together in the bed—which, if it isn’t the waterbed Barry had so jokingly referred to, is at least bigger than the original hospital-type cot that had been there before.

Leonard’s been a bit jumpy about the heightened presence of other people in the building, but tonight, no sooner do they have the doors latched then he’s pulling Sara into his arms, mouth slanting across hers, and she’s all too willing to just… go with it.

“Don’t do anything stupid out there,” she breathes later, eyes closed, cheek against his chest. “Tomorrow.”

Leonard is lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, his arms around her. She can feel the steady beat of his heart, finally slowed from prior… exertions, his calm breathing.

“Now, why would I do something like that?” he asks after a moment. “I’m no hero.”

That comment earns him a noise of derision, but she doesn’t argue with him, choosing instead to prop herself up on an elbow and regard him steadily. He watches her in return, blue eyes warm, a hand gently running along her spine in a most distracting fashion.

“What do you want to do?” she asks, changing the subject and finally bringing up one they’ve avoided. “After all this is done. Are you planning to stay in Central City? Go somewhere else? Or… travel a bit?”

His eyes are direct, even if his eventual answer is not. “Don’t know,” he says. “Guess… we’ll see.”

Sara narrows her eyes at him, trying to disarm the glare with a slight smile. “See what?”

The persistence gets her a sigh, but also a far more sober response than she expects. “See what happens,” he says seriously, hand stilling against her back. “Tomorrow. Have to get past that first.”

She studies him. “You don’t think it’s going to work?”

“I think… I think it’s a good plan. The best any of us could come up with for an… imprecise… situation.” His hand starts to move again, oh-so-distractingly, and she catches her breath as it dips just a bit lower. “But it’s not perfect. I’m still… planning.”

“Of course you are.” She shifts a little, listens to him catch his own breath. “Stop for a few minutes.”

“Just a few minutes?”

“Shut up, Snart.”

He does.

It’s not until later, much later, that she realizes he didn’t make any promises in response to her first question.

“We only get one real chance at this before he’s onto us. It gets a lot trickier after that. He already has to know we’re up to something.” Harrison Wells studies the cold gun he’s holding, then lifts his gaze to look at the group around him. “And these don’t have as much charge as the original model. Sacrifice we had to make to build them smaller.”

He looks at Leonard, then. “Mr. Snart? Your plan.”

Showtime. He takes a breath, reflects a moment with amusement on how he’s plotting to take down a speedster again, and studies the gathering. Nine pairs of eyes study him in return, from Wells’ level gaze to Mick’s skepticism to Ray’s bright enthusiasm. The rest of the group, including Henry Allen and Iris, had wanted to be included, but given Zoom’s propensity for taking hostages, had eventually been convinced to remain back at the lab and monitor things.

Sara’s eyes sparkle as she looks at him, cold gun of her own cradled in her arms, and if that combination isn’t a sight capable of distracting him more than all the jewels in the Central City Museum, well, nothing is. But it’s not the time, and there’s a deadline.

He takes another long look, though, just to hold the image in his head.

“Barry’s meeting Zoom on the south side of this building,” he says finally, gesturing in the correct direction. “The Stargate-looking thing…”

“Magnetar,” Cisco provides helpfully, shouldering his own gun with perhaps a trifle too much glee.

“Whatever… is on the north. And when they start, Barry’s going to lead Zoom through this old factory, instead of around.” Another gesture, taking in the facility where they’ve gathered. “Kid, you gotta get the jump on him, right?”

“I’ll do my best.” The red-clad speedster bounces on his toes a little, adrenaline already sparking, and Leonard can’t blame him.

“Mick, Kendra, and Firestorm,” he nods to the four in question, “are going to make certain Zoom follows him, then they’re in charge of holding down the doors to this place. Zoom doesn’t get back out. Not in one piece.”

“Right, boss.”

“Not,” Kendra adds, “on our watch.” She’s casually swinging her mace from hand to hand, an image that seems to distract Mick, Ray and Cisco as much as Sara’s been distracting Leonard. He clears his throat, and all three look back at him with varying levels of guilt. (Kendra laughs.)

“OK, the hallways here are winding, and we have them blocked off so there’s only one real path through. You… Sara, Wells, Cisco, Joe… will each be lying in wait along that path. Try to miss Barry,” he adds drily. “Even though he’s wearing his thermal suit, it could complicate matters. Tag Zoom as best you can, hit him head on if he turns on you and we’ll get this done sooner rather than later. Otherwise, follow with weapon firing so he can’t retrace his steps.

"Eventually, that path’s going to end here.” He motions at the more cavernous warehouse room around them. “I’m going to be here. I have the strongest gun. If he’s still moving, well, he won’t be for long. And just in case…” He looks at Ray. “Boy Scout here’ll be shrunk down and lurking near the other wall. He grows, hits the speedster from behind while I ice him from the front…”

“Zoom’s an icicle,” Cisco repeats, almost reverently. “Boom.”

“Don’t get cocky. It’s not airtight.” He thinks about vibes of ice… and blood. “But it’s solid. Now, we don’t have a lot of time. Break!”

The group disperses. He takes one step, then another, and grabs Sara for one last lingering kiss before she grins at him and runs to her station.

And then it’s time to wait.

The plan starts out well enough.

Zoom arrives, right on time, zeroes in on Barry where he waits in the abandoned industrial park.

“You didn’t bring the whole crew with you, huh?” Leonard hears the Earth-2 speedster say over the comm as he waits. “Pity… it’s going to be one hell of a show.”

There follows the requisite villain bravado and ego, and Leonard rolls his eyes at the other man’s posturing. Did I ever sound like that?

I… don’t think I’m going to ask.

And then Barry’s in the building, as Jax-as-Firestorm notes over the comm, Zoom following him, and…

“Tagged him!” Wells yells with satisfaction, even as Sara notes the same. Leonard barely has a chance to take a breath of relief when Cisco, then Joe West, confirm the speedsters have passed their position, Zoom taking at least a solid hit every time.

He’s moving, gun in position, when Barry, barely visible in the speed lightning, flickers through the room, and then…

Zoom.

The other speedster is definitely moving slower now, and he slows more to look right at Leonard as crook raises his gun and…

And then time speeds up again, and it all goes to hell.

In a heartbeat Ray surges into view behind the black-clad figure, suit-based cold weapon pointed at him. He’s just a little too close, and Leonard checks his forward momentum just enough to avoid hitting the other man.

Zoom takes advantage of it. He loops an arm around the inventor’s neck… and he flashes toward and through the door, hauling him along.

Leonard, cursing, follows, ready to fire, only to throw himself aside as Mick, just outside the door, pulls the blast of his heat gun, avoiding hitting Ray, who’s effectively being used as a shield. Zoom loses his grip, though, and the other man hits him with a pulse from his non-cold weapon, throwing himself free.

Zoom skids to a halt out in the area beyond the building, in the shadow of the magnetar, watching as the members of the team come boiling out of it. He’s injured, slowed by cold, slightly singed, but he’s still moving, still a speedster, and Leonard moves his gun into firing position as he paces forward, wondering why the other man hasn’t just…

A flash of white in the corner of his eye. Sara.

Zoom moves, right toward her.

Leonard hears a voice scream her name, then realizes it’s his. And Sara spins and, out of instinct more than anything else, hurls a knife at the enemy, the shining blade speeding through the air right at the speedster’s right eye.

Zoom snatches it out of the air… and then he’s gone, leaving only a sizzle of blue lightning behind him.

Sara, unharmed, takes a deep breath. The members of the group, still trickling to a halt outside the building, look around them.

“So… what?” Cisco asks, looking down at his discharged cold gun. “He’s just… gone?”

“Worse than that, Ramon. We just sent a wounded animal off to lick its wounds… one that can come back at any time to bite us in the ass.” Wells’ expression is still, horrified. “Any of us. Any of our loved ones. Just about anywhere.”

“Oh,” Cisco says into the silence. “Oh. Shit.”

And then he staggers, reaching out as Sara steadies him, blank eyes fixed on something only he can see, other arm wrapped around himself as if to hold in warmth.

“Ice,” he breathes. “So damned cold. A pillar of ice. A field of it. And…” He gags. “Ugh. That smell again. It’s so strong I can taste it…”

While Ramon’s providing his so-convenient distraction, Leonard has taken a step back.

He takes a deep breath, and he lowers the gun to his side. Oh, he keeps his hand on the grip, but he’s no longer holding the weapon in firing position. He tightens his fingers in just such a way…

And then he starts moving away from the group. A few steps. Then a few more. No one notices, not yet. A few more. Far enough away…

And then, with a flicker, Zoom is there again. And he does precisely what he’s expected to do.

He grabs Leonard.

And when he stops at the base of the magnetar, facing the rest of the group, the speedster also has Sara’s knife in his hand… with the razor-sharp edge held to Leonard’s throat.

The speedster is clamping his arms to his sides, but Leonard still has his grip on the cold gun’s handle. Not the sort of thing Zoom’s going to worry about, given that his intended victim can only really shoot himself in the foot right now.

But.

Leonard hadn’t been bluffing the day—was it really five months ago?-he’d told Barry that he’d refitted the cold gun with a… a fail-safe, if you will. A last-ditch weapon against the speedster types, one he’d carefully failed to work into the cold gun copies for safety’s sake. He’d used it to confront Barry during the whole Trickster debacle.

He’s figured it might be the only way to take Zoom out, in the end, although he’d hoped to be able to set it off remotely. Out of time for that, now. He’d triggered it just before Zoom had grabbed him, taking the bait he’d so helpfully presented. Now, all he has to do is release the grip abruptly-and the gun’s core will go critical, wiping out a good-sized swath of real estate here in a cataclysm of ice.

The others are far enough away that they should be OK. Zoom won’t be, particularly as Leonard’s pretty sure the speedster has no idea the fail-safe even exists. And you can’t run away from what you don’t see coming, after all.

And Leonard himself?

Well.

Someone has to do it.

He looks across the gulf at them as Zoom monologues. (Amateur.) There’s no time, no chance for a pithy comment, not now. No chance to say goodbye. He can’t give Zoom any reason to suspect what’s coming.

He scans the group: Mick with rage in his eyes and his hand on his heat gun; Wells looking oddly unsurprised and resigned; Barry, distraught… does he have an idea what’s coming? The crew… the team. Oddly, he finds he’s proud of them. What an unexpected thing.

It’s Sara’s eyes he meets last. Her jaw is tight, but her eyes…

I’m sorry. I’m sorry this is all we get, he tries to say without words, using only his own eyes in those last moments. But you understand why.

So do I, now.

And then Zoom moves. A flash of pain.

And Leonard Snart… lets go.

Author’s note: Please don’t hurt me.

Chapter 16 will be posted Monday.

#central city rendezvous #captain canary #legends of tomorrow #the flash

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kindergarchy · 7 years

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You Too Can Have A Body Like Mine by Alexandra Kleeman

On the book jacket’s sleeve, Kathleen Alcott (not sure who she is, presumably an impt/well-known figure in contemporary literature) praises this book: “A terrifying and elegant talent you will not soon forget.” In contrast, I do actually want to forget about this book…. and I did, until I remembered that I have not penned down my thoughts abt this book.

I thought the book was weird, maybe you can manage to imply good interpretations - maybe the issues she is trying to raise are impt - body image, the mechanism of a cult, noise caused by an endless tirade of commercials and advertisement, consciousness, a sense of self + belonging, etc… but all of these are drowned in a foggy sea of plain weirdness.

Tbh, I did really like some parts, I did go wow that’s rly well-written. It made me think of tao lin’s taipei, like small revelations of things, things that people dismiss - these things are not a ‘big deal’, nevertheless it makes you think that ok so it’s not just me. Maybe I do have a bit of social anxiety, that’s why I can find traces of me in A, but most of the time this seething, electric sense of connectedness is eclipsed by the extreme alienness of sensations the character is experiencing. I also like parts where the narrative keeps questioning A’s sense of self, sometimes it rubs off on me, especially after reading Sam Harris’ Waking Up

Ok I’m gonna paste its synopsis on goodreads here:

“A woman known only as A lives in an unnamed American city with her roommate, B, and boyfriend, C, who wants her to join him on a reality dating show called That's My Partner! A eats mostly popsicles and oranges, watches endless amounts of television, often just for the commercials— particularly the recurring cartoon escapades of Kandy Kat, the mascot for an entirely chemical dessert—and models herself on a standard of beauty that exists only in such advertising. She fixates on the fifteen minutes of fame a local celebrity named Michael has earned after buying up a Wally's Supermarket's entire, and increasingly ample, supply of veal.

Meanwhile, B is attempting to make herself a twin of A, who in turn hungers for something to give meaning to her life, something aside from C's pornography addiction. Maybe something like what's gotten into her neighbors across the street, the family who's begun "ghosting" themselves beneath white sheets and whose garage door features a strange scrawl of graffiti: he who sits next to me, may we eat as one.”

I was reading it on the sleeve of the book jacket and thought… ummm. Weird. And sometimes it happens when I read a synopsis, so I thought of it as nothing - the impression dissipates as soon as I savor the book and have a good taste of what the book is trying to portray/drive at - replaced by a relief, a sense of familiarity. I thought I would arrive there, so I waited and it never came, not even on the last page. Like… the weirdness did not feel bizarre in a way that makes you wonder (I’d like to think of myself as having a good tolerance for strange things), it felt forced and synthetic… again maybe this is due to the fact that I do not have extreme paranoid tendencies, I think it’ll be good to have real ppl who do experience paranoia to testify whether the scenarios laid out are plausible, if they do, then probably my unfavorable view of this book emerged not out of the book’s lack of merits, but my incapability to absorb something I can’t relate with well enough

I liked this part where A mentions to her boyfriend C about a weird sighting of her neighbors, which C dismisses almost instantly. C is often capable of convincing her effortlessly, perhaps even unintentionally, that everything is fine, normal. I felt that this is done semiconsciously by C out of convenience, he does not want to bother entertaining probable, but seemingly ludicrous possibilities (low-level paranoid thoughts) - and A likes that, because it makes her think less crazy thoughts, nevermind that it leads her into thinking that she is the crazy one, and without her realizing creates an imbalance in their relationship’s dynamic (ie A needs C more than the reverse):

“Okay,” C said thoughtfully, as though he had made a decision. He put his phone in his pocket and pulled himself up to a standing position. “You are a sensitive person, you saw something weird, you feel spooked. No pun intended. There are plenty of reasons why what you saw might have happened, and some of them are weird. But some of them are just boring. You know? That family could have been going to some kind of school pageant. Or a birthday party. So you can ask yourself: Do I live in a weird town, or a boring town?”

I blinked at him.

“I’d say boring,” he added, nodding and then raising both eyebrows expectantly.

I loved his face, his bland white good-looking face. I believed in him and therefore in the boringness of my town. C was good at handling me. He made things suddenly, instantaneously normal, just by explaining them. He was like a magnifying glass, I only had to look through him to see the world in crisp detail. And he had a really nice smile and good teeth.

This is one of those “not a big deal” moments, and how the narrator jumps from C’s ability to his physical appearance, like his positive quality has a halo effect on his physical appearance (or maybe it’s the other way round), this thought process seems very natural, how your mind jumps from one thing to another, following a pattern

I also think this is very well written, how A describes her gaze direction which relies on her boyfriend’s - a subtle hint at the commensalistic tendencies their relationship is developing:

I went over and got under the blanket with him. I tucked my feet in under his things and looked where he was looking.

Also this kind of self-inquiry, the idea that your sense of self is constantly evolving, it assumes and loses its shape constantly - reminiscent of Elena Ferrante’s My Brilliant Friend, only here told directly and real-time instead of being inferred through a nostalgic rewind:

Think this through, I said to myself. Just because you weren’t the person he thought you were doesn’t mean that you won’t be that person at some other time, someday. It doesn’t mean you’re not you.

And this separation between inner and outer lives, which to some might seem like an act of hypocrisy:

What bothered him, what seemed filthy, was the emotional aspect, the way I had dictated the personal. “You need them not only to be doing something for you but also feeling some specific way about it,” C said. A begging quality had entered C’s voice. C said: “Why can’t you just let people have their own inner lives, as long as they’re doing pretty much what they’re supposed to do with their outer lives?”

Plus substituting your object of desire as a coping mechanism, citing classic sociology studies:

Baby monkeys taken from their mothers will form attachments to fake mothers made of cloth or electrified wire, ducklings with no parents will imprint on a cardboard box with an alarm clock ticking inside of it. Wanting things was a substitute for wanting people, one of the best possible substitutes.

And lastly, what keeps you from going batshit crazy (like in Han Kang’s The Vegetarian, it is a very thin thread we are holding on to with all our might):

“Are you one of those people who acts normal, but is secretly about to chuck their lives and disappear?” I asked. If that were the case, I wasn’t going to waste my time getting to know him. I knew that we’d be dating for a while, at least, when he laughed several times, loudly, and kissed me for what was then the third or fourth time ever.

“Yeah, right. No way. Neither are you,” he said. “I’ve seen that on TV, those dads, and it is nuts. No way. Everything’s worked out great for me since whenever, I don’t have any plans to make it complicated. Besides, I’m attached to my material goods.”

What material goods? I wondered. Then I followed the arc of his arm pointing to a location across the room. He had been referring to his collection of DVDs, heaps of horror and comedy and porn, stacked together in a pile the size of a small love seat.

But these parts are more or less detached from the main crux of the story, I found myself slowly growing a particular dislike toward Kandy Kat’s commercials, and the ridiculous (not absurd) appeal of the cult…. Idk, it felt like the narrative invents a problem then attempts to solve it, instead of borrowing one from real life and emphasizing it

So yeah, I’m open to read more of Kleeman’s stuff, she nails interesting observations, and this book is fun to read at times, despite my complaints

#alexandra kleeman #you too can have a body like mine #book review #contemporary literature #alt lit

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