𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠.

" death by superman hug — there are worse ways to go. "

        @flaish​​​ :   “that hurt!”          𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐗 :   sparring  prompts.       

              𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐓,  𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃   ━━━   𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐍𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒,  𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄.    Sweat permeates from the body,  glistening beneath the artificial light they’ve stood under for hours.  Azure eyes never once part from battle;  stupid to let guard down until completed, even as Barry’s struck. Tongue swipes away perspiration forming above the bow of his lip;  mouth dry,  body aching for combat, notwithstanding creeping exhaustion.  CONDITIONING IS RELENTLESS  —  it needs to be in their line of work, he knows, and it’d been too long since he’s trained alongside Barry. He’s too fast for his own good, sometimes;  some situations require more calculation and less speed  …  especially when dealing with a small army.

           ❝  Focus, Flash.  ❞    Breath is saved in lieu of proper speech, opting to focus energy towards fishing out twin Batarangs. It’ll be their last simulation of the evening, and if anything is to be taken from this exercise,  it’s to be able to  finish what you’ve started.  Back foot pivots, offering more momentum as powerful shoulders rear forward and launch his projectiles towards their enemies for this particular exercise  —  in this case, faux Paradamons birthed from Watchtower’s  A.I.    ❝  They’re beginning to thin out,  ❞    he grunts, finally turning his gaze to meet his partner, brows furrowing behind the infamous cowl.    ❝   ━━   Don’t start to get sloppy now.  ❞

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THERE  IS  NEVER  ENOUGH  TIME   ━━━   it takes little for momentum to unravel;  a flash of distracted thought, a shift in gaze to locate a partner in the flames and smoke.    the strike burns against his suit and he comes to a sudden stop, leaning against the wall of the simulation room. dodging several more attacks ( vanishing sidestep to the left, to the right, then back again ), deep breath taken between each movement. barry presses his hand to his abdomen, and his words are met with a reminder to keep going, to keep running.  it’s how he lives;   in flux, in endless motion, more bolt than man when the world needs less warmth and more storm. 

                   come on, barry.

@flaish​ hit the ♡ - post-battle pains

“Haha!” He laughs boldly, broad shoulders shaking with it before he sways. It’s hard to notice as he hovers in the air but he quickly lowers himself to stand still. He shakes his head and waves a hand. “That was a pretty good shot right?” He says, as his glow DIMINISHES slightly. He is no longer burning VIRIDESCENT, but more a dull, GLAUCOUS hum across his features.

They are in the comfort of his apartment, so he lets himself power down, and COLLAPSES onto his well worn couch. Legs SPRAWL out before him and he shakes his head. There’s a sizable tear in the side of his civilian shirt where a blast burned across him, knocking him momentarily out of the sky before he landed the final blow on the creature. He lays his head back and takes a ragged breath. “Right?” THE WOUND OOZES CRIMSON, THICK AND FAST.

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THEIR BOND IS UNDENIABLE,  AND IT STRETCHES ACROSS THE STARS   —   perhaps this is why fury reaches for barry, blending with darkened fear, the desire to snap bones, and for a man who runs across the globe to let off steam, he can't seem to fix this fast enough. he zooms through the apartment, gathering medical supplies (truthfully, barry is surprised to find the essentials, more than empty beer bottles), lightning crackling along his path. "dumb, dumb, dumb — you should've waited! you wait, i run, we tag-team. simple." back to the couch now, huffing and infuriated, he tends to the flowing wound. "i needed a few more seconds to get through the last line of grunts, that's all i—sorry, i know this hurts like hell."

         𝐀𝐍𝐃          𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄           𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘          𝐀𝐑𝐄   ,           𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄          𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒  .        cracks   in   the   facade  ,          crumbling   alabaster   to   reveal   the   truth ,        as   though   buried   treasure  .        he   is   a   man   haunted  .         a   creature   of   endurance   with   splinters   in   his   lungs ,        ivy   embedded   in   his   throat  .        barry   speaks ,        &       the   stars   uncover   themselves .       a   lot   closer   to   each   other   than   they   thought .      green   eyes   shift   up   to   the   other’s   features        &        drink   in   the   vulnerability ,       melodic   tragedy   to   his   ears .        ❝       i’m   kinda   thinking    we   have   more   in   common   than   you   think ,      but   i’d   be   kinda   freaked   out   if   we   were   too   similar .     ❞        syllables   come   soft  ,       sensing   the   shift   in   the   conversation   he’d   caused ,       as   deft   fingers   work   to   fix   him   up .        pulls   back   momentarily   to   retrieve   bandages   before   returning ,        down   on   his   knees   to   aid   him ,        a   cliff   jump   between  .        i   don’t   want   you   to   be   like   me   for   all   the   tragedy .        what   he   sees   of   barry   he   feels   conflicted   about ,       because   he   cares  .        the   reckless   behaviour   sends   fear   to   his   nerve   endings ,       but   the   musings     &     the   poetry   from   barry’s   lips   have   him   endeared .    i   wish   you’d   met   me   when   i   was   better .         ❝      i   like   hearing   you   talk ,       i   like   that   you   have   your   interests   and   it’s   stuff   i   don’t   know   about .       i   get   that   you   don’t   want   to   get   too   close   because   of   what   you   do   but ,    trust   me   i    get   that     .  .  .       but   i’m   not   gonna   run   away  ,      bar .       i’m   not    gonna      run   away  ,     not   this    time   .    ❞  

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TO  KEEP  A  SECRET  IS  TO  BE  AT  WAR. the desire to connect is a fundamental drive, and what happens when you push against such a core, universal ache is a sort of dying. barry is embarrassed to be so haunted. tell him, his racing mind urges. you're strong enough to protect him, body and soul. if tk is in trouble, he will always come running, it is a promise he made months ago, when he first felt lighter in his presence, and maybe they're safest like this. when their voices are low and the sun is down and there's a wound needing stitching. maybe they're safest when they're touching. "yeah? you do?" words infused with hope, with the possibility of a tomorrow with a nighttime medic. constellations are in his eyes. it's humorous, really; he has punched a humanoid shark, and his brushes with death are well into the double digits by now — he has conquered terror, yet here he trembles, intimacy the eldest of foes and his most formidable opponent. even the famous flash could use more bravery now and then. "i want to take you out," he says, releasing the first set of chains. "on a date." he winces, a spike of pain as the bandage is pressed over his skin. barry chuckles at the environment, this entire circumstance, but his gaze doesn't leave his gentle healer. die for me, he may as well ask, knowing the danger he conjures, but the moment is made of magic, he’s melting, and who makes good decisions at three in the morning, anyway?

          𝐇𝐈𝐒          𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒          𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐍          𝐓𝐎          𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄  .        good  at  making  things  better  he  says ,       and  briefly  he’s  transported  back  .        existing  in  a  time  where  all  was  his  fault       -        disappointed  parents ,        failing  education  ,       health  declining  as  he  succumbed  to  a  monster  of  addiction .       all  these  hands  did  was  break  and  damage ,       all  his  mouth  did  was  spit  venom .      for  a  moment  fear  renders  him  still  ,       like  his  touch  will  burn  barry .       who  do  you  think  i  am ?      a  picture  of  a  hero  ?      hardly  him  ,      but  rather  a  collage  of  chaos .       he’s  always  been  good  at  hiding  the  truth .       one  day  barry  will  see  the  truth  of  his  reflection  ,         the  reality  behind  TK ,       and  he’ll  be  gone .        what  border  do  they  even  tread  now ?       barry  speaks  with  the  softness  of  care ,       but  he  doesn’t  know  who  barry  is  under  the  guise  of  darkness .       their  entirety  scares  him .       green  eyes  focus  on  barry’s  neck ,       undeserving  of  meeting  his  eyes ,       and  soft  low  syllables  come  in  return .        ❝      because i  usually  make  things  worse ?      i   know   …     but  i  don’t  know  what  you’re  like  outside  of  here  either .     ❞          a  question ,      imploring  him :      tell  me .  

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THE  WAY  HE  FADES  SO  EASILY  INTO  HIS  OWN  DARKNESS ,  nurturing this pain, the kind of villain that is not exclusive to heroes, makes him ache something blue. he has heard the tales of tk’s destruction but he has never stood in the eye of it. with barry, he is all clear skies and swaying daisies. sun behind the ear. perhaps all they’ve done these last few months is show the best parts of themselves — who are they at their heaviest? you see, we’re volatile little things   /   but i just want you to call me pretty.  ❝  damn it, tk. you know that’s not what i meant. ❞  he lets silence cover them while he sorts through the request, an invitation to bleed in a new way.  ❝  i’m the kind of guy who shared a room with a bunch of stuffed dinosaurs and talked to them about my science fair projects. i’m also the kind of guy that hasn’t changed much since then. still blow the power sometimes. ❞    a light chuckle.  ❝  i don’t go to bars, i talk too fast, and i find it really cool that there are more synapses in the human brain than stars in the milky way galaxy. we... probably don’t have a lot in common. that’s why i stick to the basics with you, i guess. don’t want to scare you off.  ❞  

wanna go on a cool date