Sometimes I think about the mad panic that would be induced in Barry the moment the doctor administering Iris's sonogram tells them they're having twins. He'd probably be the cliche 'passing out in the delivery room' dad who Cannot Handle the thought of having two babies simultaneously. (He's jealous of Felicity and Oliver, who have three children already by the time he and Iris have their own new arrivals and make it look so easy.)
Phase 5 is Barry walking around for a month looking like this:
She lifts the hem of his tee, untucking his undershirt from his pants with skill. She’s not sure what exactly she’s expecting, they had only been apart for seven days, but she’s nonetheless relieved to find the same navel splashed with dark hair, the same pale freckled skin, the same slim hips just as she had left them, just as he had always been.
She feels his chuckle under her palms before she hears it leave his throat. As she skirts her hands across his abdomen, upwards to his chest, intending to pull both garments over his head, she’s taken aback by the sudden motion of him sitting upright and flattening her back against the mattress instead.
“Not so fast,” Barry teases, sliding the sleeves of her dress down, unveiling one shoulder at a time. “I’ve missed you too, you know.”
While he’s bent over kissing her collar, she squirms beneath his weight, desperate to resume her previous activity, longing to make up for a lost week of touching him. She can sense his smirk stretch wider against her skin the more she twists under him.
“Give up,” comes his raspy, satisfied voice midway through kisses.
One thing Iris knows she won’t ever do is that, not especially after she has him back in her arms again, has the promise that he’ll keep running home to her still ringing in her ears, has the symbol of his devotion wrapped around her finger, has supposedly only months left to be with him.
So she takes a deep breath before slowly plunging a hand below his waistband, finds where he’s already stiff between his thighs.
That halts his kissing, replaces it with a sigh of warm breath into her neck.
“Iris…” he croaks, and it’s her turn to feel satisfied, to edge him to give up.
When he cups her cheek and coerces her to look at him, when she meets his earnest, pleading eyes, the satisfaction wanes.
“Please,” he whispers. “Please let me make it up to you…”
You already have. She wants more than anything to make him believe it, make sure he knows that it doesn’t matter to her anymore who’s right or who’s wrong, who left or who stayed. What does matter is every possible hour of theirs that remains, that every minute of his is spent with her or running back to her.
Still, she relents, for his sake.
She withdraws her hand from his length, out of his pants to link her fingers with his, making sure he can feel the silver of the ring she wears, a ring that graced the fingers of the Allen women of the past, that assures her she may live to become an Allen herself, that she will live to marry the man gazing down at her, the way no one else ever has.
“Alright then,” she murmurs, raising the hem of her skirt, bringing his hand to her thigh. “I guess it’s my turn to sing.”
i just had a fucking RAGER of a shutdown like the worst one ever and i’m trying to pull myself out of it so really what better of a time than this
she uses the exact same communication methods when she’s commanding a crowd as she does in every day conversation. it’s a little offputting and perplexing to everyone else, and she struggles very hard to communicate one on one.
she always thought she’d be a terrible leader because she really just doesn’t seem to be very good at talking to people and making people like her, but she’s stunned to find that 1. giving uninterrupted speeches where she gets very passionate about her topic go over quite well in front of a crowd 2. being very Intense and Focused when making a point in front of an audience is perceived as a sign of strength and wisdom, rather than aggressive or a turn off like it is when making small talk
her movements seem kind of mechanical or stuttered to most people. the only time her body seems to work the way she needs it to is when she’s fighting.
her lending her strength out to other people is genuinely the most selfless and compassionate act she’s capable of making, because it depletes nearly all of her spoons and makes her enormously vulnerable until she has time to recharge
she has such a difficult time with sarcasm. she ends up being grateful for her reputation as a super intense and slightly terrifying leader because this is the facade she uses to disguise that she literally cannot understand other people’s senses of humor sometimes.
she’s actually a super sweet and sensitive person but she often panics and feels so uncomfortable when other people start making jokes or using heavy sarcasm or excessively dry humor that she doesn’t understand, so she’ll leave the room.
it’s really sad and makes her feel sort of helpless because she can’t quite make friends and everyone seems to think she hates them, but she doesn’t realize that she has a resting bitch face and she just really truly genuinely forgets to say basic greetings sometimes.
she h h h h aa a a t e s showering, the water pellets feel like they’re attacking her and bar soap is hopelessly dry and starchy feeling and scented shampoos or shower gels feel nice but are so strongly scented that it sends her into sensory hell
she is absolutely floating on cloud nine when she discovers the roman baths.
sometimes she’ll be doing okay and everything will be cool but she just. needs a second. so she’ll quick find a door to lock herself behind and FLAP FLAP FLAP FLAP FLAP….”phew.” and then go resume whatever she was doing.
she has a playlist of instrumental music (her faves are strings) and after a hard day of praetor work, she’ll put her headphones in and slowly rock back and forth to unwind. that’s like her favorite activity to do she could sit like that for hours.
she doesn’t really have meltdowns or shutdowns in the traditional sense but she DOES dissociate when she gets like really agitated. it’s a fairly new symptom (or it used to happen rather a bit when she was younger but she seems to have blocked it out, because it stopped when she arrived at camp jupiter and only starts up again once the war is over.) it’s more connected to her emotional state than anything else.
she looks very outwardly chill when she’s dissociating and it tends to be the “my body is moving on autopilot but i actually have literally no control of what i’m doing rn and i feel like i’m watching myself from outside my body” kind. if it gets REALLY bad though (like as in she’s very very agitated and emotionally distressed) it’s the “who’s fucking hand is this” kind
her dogs act like therapy dogs, really. she’s such a lucky bastard to have them i swear
she can usually sense when she’s going nonverbal before it actually happens (Luck y BASTARD) so she’ll start communicating in grunts and one word answers on purpose to like, charge up, or store energy or whatever.
she’s really good at keeping several spoons on reserve for important moments. she unfortunately had a lot of time to practice this with a childhood as rough and awful as her’s was.
if she says “i don’t want to talk about this” she really fucking means i literally do not—cannot talk about this right now and if you do not drop it i am literally going to fucking lose it. she usually leaves the room before it gets that bad.
cc’s spa is such a nice place for her because she can just braid people’s hair for hours and hours and she doesn’t have to talk to them or look at them she can just like use their hair and it feels so stimmy and nice
she is a hu m m e r she does a steady monotone hum when she’s happy or content or relaxed. circe’s customers used to gossip about it and she got really embarrassed so she made herself stop, and she doesn’t pick up the habit again until she’s at camp jupiter.
jason always thought it was really cute and he wisely never commented on it because he had a feeling it would make her self conscious (he was right). he always felt strangely honored that she felt comfortable enough that she would do it in front of him (even if he didn’t understand that it was a stim, he clearly knew it was something she did when she was happy and relaxed and only when she was alone or alone with him).
she was selectively mute (partially nonverbal??? idk what the terminology is for this is actually but It’s A Thing) as a child and so that was how she got diagnosed, because her teachers were always like “um HELLO sir your daughter doesn’t speak to us?? literally ever???” and her dad was like a total deadbeat, so he probably just punished her for it or called her stupid or whatever, but hylla exhausted all her resources researching it and was the best most supportive big sister any autistic kid could ask for.
eye contact is super bad in one on one or small scale situations but once again she looks a lot more comfortable in a crowd because she can just stare at everyone’s forehead or scan faces without really seeing
she’s super hyperempathetic towards animals!!!! (don’t fucking make me think about scipio!!!!!!! there was no fucking reason he needed to die!!!!!!!!!!!)
also animals really like her. this is a helpful skill when meeting lupa, understandably. she’s very good at wolf language, considering she doesn’t use words as her like most primary kind of communication (and sometimes feels like verbal speech is impossible)
After finally retiring from the Xavier-Lehnsherr Institute for the Gifted, Charles and Erik embark on a romantic getaway to the beaches of Genosha. Genosha is a sanctuary for humans and mutants alike, at least according to the travel agents.
When they arrive, they find the brochures may have left a few things out. The island is being torn apart by political unrest and social upheaval. The escalating tensions between humans and mutants bring out old grudges. Torn apart by opposing factions, Charles and Erik struggle to hold onto their ideals and to each other.
Paradise has its price and they are all going to pay.