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Whumptober Prompt #15- Scars

Yo- here’s another ColdFlash.  Author’s notes are getting kinda annoying.  Enjoy

...

The one thing Barry would never have called himself a year ago was lucky.  Losing his mother at such a young age, his father’s wrongful imprisonment right after, child psychologist after child psychologist telling him the yellow lightning was a manifestation of some bullshit or another, always denying the truth that he saw that night, the bullies, the consistent inability to be punctual to anything, the lightning strike, his powers… it was a long list on why Barry considered himself very unlucky.

But tonight?  Tonight, Barry was the luckiest man in the world.

Leonard Snart, Captain Cold himself, was lying asleep beside him, still just as in love with him as Barry was in love with him.  The Legend of Tomorrow had returned to Central City, after the Oculus explosion apparently didn’t kill him but simply sent him through time.  Once he’d regained the ability to travel back to Present Central City, he’d returned to Barry.  Thankfully, Barry hadn’t sold their apartment yet, as everyone else had been trying to convince him to do.  Granted, they thought Len had died so it had made sense but he hadn’t been ready to let go yet.  Barry had come home with groceries and another realtor business card to throw in the trash and Len had simply been waiting at the kitchen table with a cup of hot chocolate, the newspaper, and piping hot dinner.

Barry had dropped the groceries, unable to try and catch them, even with his super speed.  Len had cocked an eyebrow, and simply laughed.  “Didn’t think you’d be so clumsy, Scarlet.”

Hours later, once Len had proved that he was alive, and his Len, after dinner and a dance and a kiss that quickly led them to the bedroom, they laid in bed together but Barry had been unable to sleep.  Len had fallen asleep a little while ago, spent and exhausted.  Barry had been very demanding after losing Len for six months, and now that he had him back, he couldn’t stop staring at his partner.  Len’s face hadn’t changed, the same piercing blue eyes that made Barry’s knees weak, the same jawline now peppered in hickeys, the same mouth that worshiped Barry, infinitely pouring love from those wonderful lips, and yet… Barry couldn’t help but notice small differences.

There was a scar on Len’s right arm, from the Oculus no doubt.  It ran from about half his forearm all the way to his middle knuckle.  It wasn’t straight, like a knife, but almost a lichtenberg figure like the one he got from the lightning strike.  It branched out from the main scar, the littler scars fading easily into the skin.

There was another new one just behind Len’s ear, this one much smaller.  It seemed more like what had once been a small nick, or maybe a blow to the head, and Barry could really only see it because Len wore his hair so short.

Len’s left hand had a new scar as well, but this one obviously different from the others.  Maybe he was crazy, maybe he was reading too much into it, but Barry was ninety percent sure Len had done this one himself.  Len’s hand was unharmed, the same calluses, the same chips in his fingernails, the same scars on his hands from his father, but this one was new.  This one was a small slash across his wrist, right above where handcuffs would fit him.  It looked like a razor had torn up Len’s skin in one short but deep cut.  It looked too small and precise to be anything but razor, and a razor wasn’t a normal method of torture.  So, Len had to have done it himself.  He wasn’t sure why, but that question could wait.  They had all the time in the world now.  Len had promised to stay as long as he could.  Barry knew he would go back to the Legends eventually, Len missed Mick, and the thrill of working through time, but for right now, Len was home.

It was Len’s back though, where Barry noticed the biggest change.  Len was sleeping on his back, so Barry had an open view.  Len’s scars from childhood, the beatings, his father’s belt, those were all intact, but there was one new one.  It wasn’t quite a burn scar, but it was at the same time.  He knew it didn’t come from Mick, Len had a few burn scars from when Mick couldn’t protect Len from himself, and this wasn’t like that.  It was more like a sunburn on a regular scar.  Like light itself burned into Len’s skin.

“Scarlet, you’re supposed to be sleeping.”  Len’s tired voice brought him to reality.  “Not staring at me like a stalker.

Barry blushed.  “I couldn’t help it.”

Len turned over and his sleep-lidded eyes stared up at him curiously.  “And what, pray tell, couldn’t you help?”

“I thought I would never see you again.”  Barry whispered.  “Forgive me for making sure I get a good look this time.”

Len’s eyes softened.

“Besides, you’ve changed.”  Barry leaned over and kissed the new scar on Len’s ear.

“Not that much.”  Len murmured, matching Barry’s soft tone.  “Not really.”

Barry made his way down Len’s spine, kissing the jagged edges of the newest scar.

A small gasp escaped Len’s lips.  Len had told him once that he didn’t like taking off his long-sleeve shirts, even in summer, because of his scars.  Tattoos could work their magic, but Len was proud of his scars.  They showed he survived.  But often he found lovers who were uncomfortable where his obvious childhood scars lay.  But Barry, with plenty of scars of his own, loved each and every scar.  He hated the man who put them there, but he admired how Len lived with them.  On a ship where scars could be healed within moments, where losing a limb was reversible, Len had made sure to keep his scars.  Len never shied away from his past, no matter how much he hated it.  He never ran from his problems like Barry did.

So Barry made sure to show Len just how much he loved Len, every part of him.  He kissed his way down Len’s spine, taking care to watch Len’s reaction. Len’s face held a touch of uncertainty he hadn’t seen since they first started dating, but also a kind of serenity.  Once he finished Len’s spine, he gently grabbed Len’s left arm, bringing himself over Len to try and not pull the hand behind him, pressing his lips against the line of raised skin, harder than before.  Len exhaled sharply, his breath catching at Barry’s touch.

“Your handiwork?”  Barry whispered.

“Long story, but yes.”  Len admitted softly.

Barry kissed it again.  “You wanna tell me?”

“Don’t ruin the moment, Scarlet.”

Barry took that for what it was, a promise to talk later.  So Barry moved to Len’s right side.  He kissed the lichtenberg figure, brushing his lips over each branch.

“Now we match.” Barry smirked, finishing up Len’s hand.

Len cocked an eyebrow, his body relaxed but his mind as sharp as ever.

“My lightning strike.”  Barry said.  “May not have been lightning, but it bears the same scar.”

Len conceded.  “Felt like it.  From what you told me of that night.”

Barry frowned.

“It was like getting hit by one of your punches but all over and you had your lightning going.”  Len explained.  “It was an all-encompassing eternity yet it must’ve only been a few seconds.  But the people who found me, the ones who helped me get back to the Legends, they said I didn’t stop shaking for a week.”

Barry nuzzled Len’s neck.  “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”  Len murmured into Barry’s hair, twisting himself around to wrap around Barry as the big spoon.  “I can see a bright side to it. Brought me back, let me come home to you, helps me understand you.”

Barry couldn’t help the laugh.

“What?!?”

“You, trying to look on the bright side.”  Barry said, still laughing. “And you say you haven’t changed, you big liar.”

Len snickered with him.  “Alright, so I’ve changed a little.”

The laugh went quiet as Len kissed Barry’s hair.

“I don’t care, you know.”  Barry said, stifling a yawn.  “Doesn’t matter how you come back to me.  You can come back with no hands, or in a wheelchair, or, hell, with more scars than Mick.  It doesn’t matter.  Just as long as you come back to me.”

Barry laid his head on the pillow between Len’s shoulder and neck so he missed Len’s grateful smile.

“I promise, Scarlet, I’m always trying to come back to you.”  Len’s arms wrapped around Barry, tight enough to feel comforting not trapped.  “Every time I leave, always remember I’m trying to come back to you.”

Barry hummed contentedly.  “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”  Len whispered.  “My hero.”

...

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21052184

Third Line Street (Gangshuffle AU)

Third Line street was quiet and bright. For a second Cezar thought about putting out a phone to send sunbeams but changed his mind. He turned to an alley, towards the courtyard, glanced at dark-green trash cans, moved around the building and approached a low two-floor house, barely noticeable among these identical grey buildings. Knocked and stepped back, rolling from heels to toes. 

A man who opened the door stared at him with a confused grimace.

“Hello!”

“Cezar?” The man looked down at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Just came to pick up a couple of things.” Cezar came inside, leaving the man standing at the doorstep. A woman appeared from the depth of the house, just as confused. Cezar looked at her, at the man, and wondered: 

“What about ‘Hello, come in, make yourself at home?’ Well, nevermind. How are you doing? Has Ming already graduated?” “Three years ago.” Said the woman.

“Wonderful”

“Did you, what, pierce your ear?” The man squinted, as if trying to cling to at least one feature in the guest’s appearance. 

Cezar walked to the kinchen, ignoring the gazes of two people following him. 

“Mmm, eclairs! I just got hungry.” He took a box of cakes out of the fridge and moved one into his mouth. What a performance. Then he fished out a plastic milk bottle, washed down the taste of chocolate cream and put the bottle on a table. “Aren’t you hungry?” He asked, turning his head to back.

To the quiet sound of voices Cezar took a cocoa can. Steadily, methodically diluting the drink with a thin stream of milk, he immersed himself into the smell and corners of his lips lifted in an involuntary smile. I wanted to drop you at the orphanage back then. “I know”, he replied. 

Cezar sat at the table putting the mug in front of him and took a pleasurable sip. The man and the woman sat before him, and the woman finally said:

“We missed you.” “Glad to hear that!” Cezar beamed. “I would miss someone who I could use as a punching bag because he can’t fight back, too.” “Don’t say that.” The man snorted immediately as his wife pursed her lips like she was about to cry. “And what should I say?” Cezar asked innocently, pulling the cookie out of the plate that the man moved to himself. Huh. He poured the cookie into the cocoa and waved it carelessly. “Are Ming coming?”

“Only in a week.” “Won’t see each other, then.” Cezar put the softened cookie into his mouth, chewed and wiped his lips with a hand. “It’s alright.”

Finishing the cocoa, Cezar said he will go pick up his things, and walked away. It looked like the house’s interior didn’t change at all - same drawers near the wall, same white doors, the floor is creaking in the same places. Cezar came upstairs, crossed the corridor to the further room and, leaving himself without any time to stop, walked in.

Who’s Ming? “She’s not my own,” Cezar replied, sitting down to the bed. He opened the drawers and began putting various items out of it. “Never liked me much.” 

The items were sorted into two piles: what has to be taken with him and what has to be left here. The second was bigger. Cezar pushed himself into sorting as deep as he could but all his efforts were not enough to close pictures rising in a memory from his shadow. Disgusting. Cezar didn’t answer but proceeded to sort pants, T-shirts, bracelets and torn notebooks into two piles. “You were the one who said about the performance”, he finally decided to remind, and suddenly his hand felt a dense fabric.

“Got it!” Cezar happily pulled out a green jacket with crooked red patches on its sleeves. You won’t wear it with Deor. “Not with Deor.” He agreed. 

Putting a jacket, two keychains and some more things into the bag, Cezar walked out of the room.

“I was happy to see you but it’s time to go.” He announced, coming downstairs. 

“Won’t you come here sometimes?” The woman asked, and Cezar shrugged. 

“We’ll see. I don’t have much of a free time at the moment, you know, grown-up life and all that jazz,” he waved his hands vaguely. “But it can be so nice to return home!” 

“Of course.” The woman agreed in relief. 

Finish these tricks, let’s move out.

“Have a nice day!” Cezar smiled radiantly, waved his hand as if nothing happened, and left the house, leaving it behind his back. Third Line street was as quiet and bright as it was an hour and as it was seven years ago.

A horrible tragedy happened this morning in the North Side of Dalenmachi: a couple with their adult daughter crashed into support columns of a gas station. Collapse of the structures made it impossible to extract the victims from the burning car…  ____________________________________________________________ See the official Gangshuffle AU blog here: https://gangshuffle.tumblr.com/

I wanna be clear that I’m having a great time though

heya, bilingual here! ((Spanish was my first language))

➸ if [language A] has a faster or slower speakng rate than [language B], then it will be noticeable. the country I come from is considered the fastest-speaking Latin American country ((also the one with the “worst” and most distinctive accent :’) )) so a lot of misunderstandings don’t come from grammar, but from how fast I speak and my vocalisation

➸ this is an unusual side-effect for me but meaning in [language B] is kinda… diminished. not sure how to explain it. for example, the character can easily curse someone out endlessly in [language B], but cursing in [language A] just feels more impactful, more wrong. it feels like an actual curse vs. just a four-letter word that people dislike. or maybe your character could be a lot more brunt and straight-forward in [language B] and then have onlookers experience whiplash when they suddenly get soft-spoken in [language A].

➸ please note that events associated with a language can affect how someone will think about. if they came from a verbally abusive family that spoke primarily [language A], then the character will get nervous and insecure speaking it. 9 times out of 10, they’re going to want to process the traumatic events and emotions in [language B] because it’s more casual to them. this effect is more noticeable if they have supportive friends who are native [language B] speakers, as they’ll have many more positive experiences with [language B].

➸ if your bilingual character writes — whether casually or if they are a novelist of some sort — their writing style WILL be different in different languages. whilst English tends to draw out a more straightforward and choppy writing style that fits it, [language A] might fit more flowey and long-winded sentences ((especially seen in romantic languages such as Spanish, French, etc.!))

➸ their mind will be translating things almost constantly and it. is. hell. /hj. they may zone out in the middle of a conversation in [language B] because they are trying so hard to translate into [language A] that they lose the meaning of the words entirely, especially is they have functioned as a translator in the past. yes, this can also happen if they are translating [langauge A] into [language B].

➸ mostly seen in bilingual children, but saying [language B] idioms or words without knowing their meaning, or directly translating them and then they end up saying gibberish in [language A]. an analogy I frequently use is the “dar una galleta” idiom in Spanish. although it’s literally “to give someone a cookie”, it means “to hit/slap someone forcefully”. take note, children, never accept cookies in Hispanic countries.

➸ culture, culture, culture!! culture is important!!! it can affect the speaking rate, the customs, the gestures, the way they respond to being offended, and everything in between. **stands on the edge of a cliff** CuLtUrE iS eVeRyThInG!!!

➸ look up “bilingual memes” and you’ve succesfully wormed your way into a treasure trove of info

➸ if they haven’t had any exposure to [language B] for an extended period of time ((2 days+)) then the “takes their brain a second to readjust” effect can take about 30 seconds, and it can be freakish because wait last time I spoke to this person/read this book/played this game/watched this show, these words meant something, right??

➸ accent always is the last thing to go. I could write and speak English as well as a native speaker since 2nd grade, but people who knew me three or two years back do note that my accent has gotten better over the years. if the character is proficient in [language B], then other characters might be surprised to learn that they actually aren’t native speakers. no one I’ve met — no matter how perceptive — has been able to look at me and go “hey, the creepy kid in the corner seems like they could speak another language.” it’s probably a social matter, though, and I don’t mean it in a negative connotation.

➸ that’s all I can think of for now. and like OP said, you can’t go wrong with the services of a bilingual beta reader or friend! bilingual people don’t bite unless threatened!

Characterization

Bilingual Characters

Note: I am not bilingual, so please add or correct me if you can. This is what I have observed/learned from friends who are.

❃

➸ forgetting terms in [language A] and trying to explain with context clues or hand gestures ; it’s common to forget terms even in their primary language, not just a secondary one

➸ usually it’s just repeating “the thing” while trying to remember the term or using a synonym even if it doesn’t make as much sense

➸ inner dialogue switching between languages depending on connotation of thought and which language they have been conversing in lately

➸ counting in [language A] and then translating the final number into [language B] because it’s easier that way

➸ translating slang terms from [language A] that do not actually translate with the same meaning or make sense in [language B]

➸ speaking with grammar rules from [language A] that are incorrect in [language B]

➸ asking non-bilingual person if there’s a translation for a word before realizing they would have no idea

➸ never say something like “oops, it’s hard to switch back sometimes” — that’s lazy writing and doesn’t happen in real life

➸ language is a conscious action so when speaking [language A] people aren’t just going to throw in words from [language B] unless they are struggling to find a translation and then that struggle will be obvious

➸ if a character throws in a word from [language A] while conversing in [language B] it’s on purpose, usually because they’re messing with the other person or the word in [language B] doesn’t have the same connotation

➸ for example, curse words, nicknames, or other exclamations from [language A] may commonly be thrown in while conversing in [language B] but it is purposeful

➸ the only exception could be children who grew up bilingual; they may genuinely combine languages without thinking about it

➸ switching between languages may take a second for their brain to compute, even if they’re switching back to their primary language ; especially if they’ve been using one language consistently for a while

➸ when in an adrenaline-rush situation (like being panicked or in pain) a person will usually fall into their first language

➸ don’t try to transcribe accents — if your character has one, describe it and move on ; messing with dialogue too much will confuse readers

➸ there are different kinds of bilingual: fully (speak, read, and write), conversational (speaks fluently but does not read/write as well; this is common with immigrants), and comprehensible (can understand what someone says to them, but struggles to speak back; common with those who took school classes)

➸ people who grew up speaking primarily [language A] will commonly get anxious conversing in [language B] even if they are fluently bilingual ; this is something people can overcome with time

➸ when researching a language you do not speak but your character does, make sure to understand the culture too because it will influence how they speak

➸ culture affects expressions, idioms, forms, even basic vocabulary — you’ll need to understand this because every language breaks formal rules while in casual conversation & using this will make your character more realistic

➸ find a bilingual beta reader!

Tw // sexual assault discussions, CSA

"The word 'rape' is really harsh. But at the same time, I had to leave my body mentally in order to stay physically there. Then it's against your will."

I found this quote in a book today (the book is called "Cult Trip" by Anke Richter if you're interested - I do recommend it, but look up the trigger warnings; it contains graphic descriptions of sexual assault). I think it's important for people to hear, especially SA survivors, like we are. <3

Sending love to anyone who relates

Fake screenshots and character designs for aforementioned school project.

I'm still thinking about the title, but the plot is basically "Monster gets pissed at rude man who also happens to be a terrible father and adopts his abused kid by force".