#sophiacfandom

Despite what a lot of people assume and say, Len actually knows his way around a kitchen pretty well. You don’t spend 30+ years partnered with Mick Rory and not learn a thing or twelve about food. So yeah, he’s no master chef but he’s never had many complaints about what he makes. Though don’t ask him to bake anything. For some reason anything he tries comes out burnt and hard as stone.

Barry before the lightning was pretty horrible when it came to doing anything in the kitchen. But after he got his powers and the ability to read every cooking book at a speed that shouldn’t be possible, he became pretty okay when it comes to cooking. And after Cisco and Felicity build him a specialized tablet, he can watch videos at a far faster speed, which also helps him. But his specialty is definitely breakfast foods.

At first it’s thrift stores and suit jackets that hang on his shoulders, pants that are frayed at the cuffs, ugly ties that were someone’s unwanted and discarded birthday present. It’s shoes that pinch hard and wear out fast because of the pattern of his stride. 

Then it’s off the rack, money from his first job for Fish clenched tightly in his first. 

“Get yourself some new clothes, baby,” she told him, in that voice as thick as honey. “I need my umbrella boy to look good by my side.” 

It’s black and pinstriped and it fits well enough, fits better than clothes he’d pulled together from bins of someone else’s discarded wardrobe. It’s his. 

His pride grows, his confidence grows, and with them his wardrobe. He switches from umbrella to silver-headed cane and back again, using the umbrella as his symbol because it reminds him of where he came from. It’s a part of his look, the one that he pulls together--purple and green and black and silver. 

He gets fancy shoes, orthopedic brogues, which he didn’t even know they made, but the insides of the soles doesn’t wear out as fast, and his hips hurt less with the torque of his walk from the cushion. 

Then it’s tailored suits, and not flinching at the hands that measure and pin him, because he’s learned not to twitch but it’s still his first instinct: that a hand touching will be pinching and biting if it’s not his mother’s. That soft touch is a myth from anyone but her, but he doesn’t flinch. 

:D We listened to this episode Christmas Day. Best Christmas special of anything anywhere, quite possibly maybe.

@eliotswaugh replied to your post “1. Laurel, for obvious reasons. 2. Popcorn, bc we joke that we’re like…”

WHAT ARE CHEEKY NANDOS

if I wasn’t so exhausted I would totes make a joke about the archbishop of banterbury but like I’m just too tired. but like I always find it funny that meg goes for the mildest spice on the chicken, lmao.

but ana if you ever find yourself down my neck of the woods in england, I will for sure take you for a cheeky nando’s (provided ofc that you eat chicken altho they do have some veggie options too). and while we're waiting for the chicken or perhaps when I'm tucking into my favourite white chocolate and raspberry swirl cheesecake I will totally explain it to you :)

@belladonnatroy replied to your post “@belladonnatroy replied to your post “aaaaand today in mina’s trip…”

I danced growing up and it is SUPER hard so I love good dancers because they dance like it’s so easy, like they’re not even worried and it’s just natural when I know it’s not and I have huge respect for that

same. they make it look effortless and I so admire that. I think that’s with every art to some degree tho. it’s best when it looks like it’s effortless.

@sophiacfandom replied to your post “@purple451pastry replied to your post “dude I’m so fucking tired but…”

I have a variation on the numbers thing which is imagining myself walking down a flight of stairs. I start at 20 or 30 and count down each step. *Usually* I’m asleep before I get to ‘1’ at the last step before the bottom, although sometimes not! It helps tho. And I try to relax more with each step down. The 'down’ thing seems to help with relaxing. Solidarity from a fellow insomniac!

*insomniac fistbump* ah see I would do the stairs thing but I have this irrational fear of falling down the stairs (and I mean when I was three I did fall down the stairs lol) and I know it sounds weird but I lose my balance a lot in my dreams? but yeah definitely counting will help I think. and maybe even walking up stairs instead of down them?

@sophiacfandom replied to your post “lmao I am caving in and downloading last christmas by ariana grande….”

YOU DESERVE ALL THE GUILTY PLEASURES …though you may be a bit, like, late ;)

I'd be up for seeing fic that approaches that idea better than I suspect the CW will.

happy birthday! - Leithin

The thing Ray loves most about Shabbat is the chance to turn his brain off for a few hours. He’s always going at a hundred miles a minute, and he loves that, he does, but if he doesn’t stop at least once a week (or, okay, every week as much as he can, usually every few weeks), he runs himself into the ground. 

So Shabbat is the perfect opportunity. He prefers to go to shul, but his synagogue streams services for those unable to attend and sometimes he’s stuck on a mission or in the temporal zone, and he has to do that. 

All the same, he doesn’t let himself multitask. He turns off his phone, his soldering iron, his blowtorch. He puts down his tech, puts aside his ATOM suit, and takes the night. 

When the Cantor starts singing the niggun (ya la li li li, ya la li li li), everything falls away. The stress from his shoulders, the tension headache lingering around his temples. All that’s left is the music, the prayers, the community around him (or on the screen, if he’s alone on the Waverider). The sound of prayer filling the room, regardless of if he’s in the sanctuary or his lab on the ship. 

And he sings along, always, even though his voice isn’t great--it doesn’t matter, that’s not the point, when you’re praying. 

It refreshes him and boosts him up, as he sings and he prays. Every time it gives him new drive, new purpose. So he comes back, every week, or as many weeks as he can, for a little Shabbat miracle.