brb. (
accelerate) wrote in
maskormenace2018-02-03 10:06 am
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[ 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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This is definitely the Network, and this is most definitely something Barry wrote. With his own two hands. She's already getting out of bed (and probably making a ton of noise as she looks for her slippers and a warm robe). ]
So... Captain Cold's one of your threes?
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[ . . . she totally is. ]
It's the cardinal rule of the list. Everyone's entitled to their threes.
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Technically I think I've just finally reached my good boy phase.
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[ Mick is indeed very good people. ]
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Do you still write for that rag, because that sounds like a headline for that one.
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Thankfully, no. I'm freelancing for the Heropa paper now. Mostly metro, but it sure beats our local "Florida Man".
[ She's never gonna be over how she wrote all those articles, only to find out her Florida Man was James Jesse. And during Roguesgiving, no less... ]
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I have to keep better track of your work. You write under your name, right?
Maybe you can give the author of this piece a bit of a lesson on good prose. I sense there's room for improvement.
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I don't know whether to be offended by this so continue on
I'll feedback once I know
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The author did just fine. Could love the Flash a little more, but I think that'll come with time.
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Maybe. I'm still reconsidering since I actually really like Heatwave. He's got great dad jokes.
And Lego Joker. I just want to ask him how to build stuff and if I can step on him.
I mean I'm definitely sure of
1. Beyonce
2. Iris
I flip flop on the third. Alessandra Ambrosio seems way out of my league.
And now I realize we're not exactly sharing lists.
ERASE MESSAGE.
[ did you know you can't just type that action in and expect it to happen, right? ]
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[ If she weren't so busy heading towards his room (and probably murmuring 'owwww' as she runs into something), she would've written a heck of a lot more. As it stands, she hastily adds: ]
Sorry about the lamp.
(It clashed with the room anyway).
I'll share mine ASAP. Just. Don't take that back, ever.
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[ is he being purposefully obtuse? 80% chance, yes. he may be busy hiding the packet of crisps he bought for iris and ate himself, but he can still type. #theflash ]
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FTR, my list is:
1) Barry
2) Barry
3) Did I mention Barry???
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I would pick Barry Watson, too. i had this crush on him during 7th Heaven that made my stomach hurt.
[ that was jessica biel, but he can stretch the facts. ]
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[ she'll give him this one. Maybe. ]
btw, I may have an extra bag of Cheeto's for him. If he wants it.
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Barry Allen should eat it for him.
You know. He's a big fan of the Bee Gees.
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[ There's a knock at his bedroom door, though considering all the commotion outside, it's not really surprising Iris is on the other side. She is, however, holding in her hands an extra-large bag of Cheetos from her secret stash. ]
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Hey. [ the smile, though, isn't forced. pushing himself up to stand, he brushes his hands together. ] Oh my god. You weren't lying about the Cheetos.
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Iris desperately holds back a laugh as she holds out the bag. It's family-sized, as opposed to the usual size, just because she'd intended on handing it over to him at some point. ]
Yeah, I usually keep an extra bag around in my secret stash. [ She pauses, closing the door behind them, ] Which, for the record, totally didn't exist before tonight.
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You totally had a secret stash before today. I know. You know. I know you know that I know you had one and thought I didn't know. [ he shakes the packet. it's going to be empty in five minutes, so she might as well as grab as many cheetos as she can. ] It's okay.
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