#ssadrblake

ssadrblake replied to your post:ssadrblake replied to your post:[[MOalso...

I buy my hoodies one size up because I find them comfier that way, but I’m quite big anyway (size wise) so.

how about nO. wow nO.

i mean if an asw graphic doesn't generate this sort of response was it even worth making in the first place?? probably not

Iris West has far fewer soulmarks than a girl her age should by the age of eleven. But the ones she has are strong; her father’s love marked at first touch by a rich forest green mark on her wrist. Her favourite aunt has left a sweep of a rich magenta at the side of her cheek. Even her mother, who she never knew, has left a surge of beautiful royal blue on her foot.

No one her age has left any trace on her. She doesn’t know anyone who’s had a strong imprint, of a lifelong companion or a lover, just friendship marks up and down people’s arms like a veritable rainbow.

Maybe that’s why Barry Allen’s streak of bright red, dotted with yellow, left when he gets her playing tag in the playground confuses her. It’s a big deal; teachers shepharding children away and Iris refuses to touch Barry back. Every soulmark she has is this strong; maybe it’s a quirk of hers.

It isn’t wrong though, whatever it’s supposed to mean. He quickly is her best friend, her companion on every adventure, following her down to the police station. But she never touches him on the skin. Even when he moves in. It becomes second nature, and no one questions it; Barry touches Iris, and Iris doesn’t touch him back.

For fourteen years, she keeps it up. Only then Barry gets struck my lightening and is in a coma, and no one knows if he’ll ever wake up.

The first time she visits, she watches from the door. Going in there makes it real. The second time, she makes it to the chair beside the bed. The third time, a nurse sticks his head in and goes, “You can talk to him, you know?”

"Does it actually help?" Iris asks.

He’s fiddling with the IV bag, switching it out with a new one. “No one knows. But a lot of patients, they say they can hear people. Or hands. Touch is important.” He narrows his gaze. “You have to know he’s important, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

"Yeah…"

"You’ll work it out." With a smile he turns out the door, leaving Iris alone with her thoughts.

Barry has to be important. She’s got the evidence of how important she is to him, startlingly clear on her arm, the mark that has never dimmed or faded and causes questions wherever she goes; whoever that person is, dear, they must love you very much.

Iris just doesn’t know how she feels about him.

But there’s an easy way to find that out. Barry’s hand is just there, lying on top of the sheets. Iris reaches a hand out, lifts his wrist where it’s still covered. She laces her fingers through his, touching as much as she can, and says:

"Barry Allen, if you can hear me, you better wake up."

She closes her eyes as she withdraws her fingers. She waits; for Barry’s breathing to become clearer, his voice, some sign that he’s woken up. There’s nothing. She has to open her eyes. She’s never going to know otherwise.

She blinks them open, momentarily blinded by the harsh glare of the hospital light. Barry looks just as he always does. His eyes are still shut, the IV is still in his arm, the faded orange soulmark of an old friend on his neck. Only there's something different:

[heart eyes emoji] ily

i would think it’s too early on for it to be real so a dream would be more realistic but then again I didn’t think Barry would confess his feeling for Iris this early on so ????????

I WAS JUST THINKING THIS OMG!