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maskormenace2018-02-03 10:06 am
accelerate) wrote in maskormenace2018-02-03 10:06 am
2⚡ TEXT
[ in a bid to try and remember the memories he has lost to flashpoint — a realisation our fast hero hasn't had yet — barry turns to the realm of fandom. what better way to jog his memory than to write some fic? isn't that what the therapists told a young bartholomew allen? (he doesn't know. this isn't his first piece of memory fan fiction.) ]
[ this graces the network in the middle of the night. ]
The air crackles with golden electricity. Slick with ice is the street the Flash skids along, easily pulling himself to a confident standing position despite the ice on his shoes and the slightly poor finish to his run.
Captain Cold stands before him, Cold Gun in hand. His parka covers most of his face, and his goggles are as blue as the fabric. "Hello, Flash," he purrs.
"Captain Cold," the Flash says, a little respectively. "What brings you out so late?"
Captain Cold almost shrugs. "I was bored," he drawls. "The nighttime circuit around here isn't as fun as it used to be."
"You can blame your friends for that," says the Flash. He stand with his hands on his skinny hips, face a blur when the captain studies him.
Captain Cold's lips twist. "Want to have some fun, Flash?"
The Flash shakes his head. "No thanks. I've had enough fun for today."
"Oh well," Captain Cold almost pouts. "Save a dance for me next time. I've got my best dancing shoes on."
"And best dance floor," The Flash nods toward the thin layer of ice on the street.
It's now Captain Cold shrugs. "Call it practice. Giving to the poor what they want."
"And what's that?"
"I'll tell you later," he smirks. "During our next dance."
The Flash doesn't look displeased. Glancing at the Cold Gun and then back at Captain Cold, he nods his head, knowing that this is it.
"See you around, Captain." The Flash doesn't take off immediately, glancing at the Rogue who is almost like a friend. With another respectful nod, he's zipping along the street, a little clumsily on the thin ice as he disappears into the night.
Captain Cold watches him go with a little smile.
[ this graces the network in the middle of the night. ]
UN: BEARY
The air crackles with golden electricity. Slick with ice is the street the Flash skids along, easily pulling himself to a confident standing position despite the ice on his shoes and the slightly poor finish to his run.
Captain Cold stands before him, Cold Gun in hand. His parka covers most of his face, and his goggles are as blue as the fabric. "Hello, Flash," he purrs.
"Captain Cold," the Flash says, a little respectively. "What brings you out so late?"
Captain Cold almost shrugs. "I was bored," he drawls. "The nighttime circuit around here isn't as fun as it used to be."
"You can blame your friends for that," says the Flash. He stand with his hands on his skinny hips, face a blur when the captain studies him.
Captain Cold's lips twist. "Want to have some fun, Flash?"
The Flash shakes his head. "No thanks. I've had enough fun for today."
"Oh well," Captain Cold almost pouts. "Save a dance for me next time. I've got my best dancing shoes on."
"And best dance floor," The Flash nods toward the thin layer of ice on the street.
It's now Captain Cold shrugs. "Call it practice. Giving to the poor what they want."
"And what's that?"
"I'll tell you later," he smirks. "During our next dance."
The Flash doesn't look displeased. Glancing at the Cold Gun and then back at Captain Cold, he nods his head, knowing that this is it.
"See you around, Captain." The Flash doesn't take off immediately, glancing at the Rogue who is almost like a friend. With another respectful nod, he's zipping along the street, a little clumsily on the thin ice as he disappears into the night.
Captain Cold watches him go with a little smile.
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Slight overuse of the code names. It's cute. Decent prose, short sentences to the point, bare description but enough to paint a picture. I can practically hear the dialogue.
Looking forward to the next dance.
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Five snowflakes?
FIVE???
I can quit my daytime job and retire in a snowglobe.
[ is barry embarrassed this has been posted? did barry even do it on accident?
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Tell you what: Write the sequel and I'll see what I can do for you.
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FIVE
You're just setting me up to fall into the arms of Captain Cold, aren't you?
That'd make am awesome fic.
[ aka: is it a memory???? time to write it down to see if his memory gets jogged! ]
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What's the worst that could happen?
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BUT THEN I lose my toes because I'm frozen so badly
And then I use my nose but my nose is frozen, too
So if I fall into the snow, there is a 50% chance I could lose everything I could use to type the sequel
And then end up disappointing you with the lack of sequel.
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Okay, I'm talking about the NEXT hot cocoa and next marshmallows included IN that hot cocoa that I did not eat because I thought they were oddly colored Cheetos.
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What did you smoke?
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It's bad for your breathing
And I need to maintain my breath control for reasons that I cannot describe or put into words that cannot disappear after two seconds of you reading them.
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You under the weather?
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I don't know.
I think I might have Speed Force flu.
... Hence the need for more marshmallows. The fluffy kind.
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Maybe lie down.
You know where to find me, if you need to.