#speedprofessor

    “I thought you were just being polite.” 

Hands resting on her knees, sitting at attention as she attended her first Temporal Studies lesson in maybe twenty-seven years? He certainly seemed to know what he was talking about. The ‘Speed Force’ wasn’t in her divine lesson plans, so she couldn’t Um, Actually! him.

THIRTY   SECONDS      &      sam,   stuttering   to   a   cape-fluttering   stop,   isn’t   FAST   ENOUGH   to   combat   against   a   speedster   left   to   stand   alone   in   a   silo.      she’s   still   mastering   the   flashpan,   rapid   fire   trigger   that   kryptonian   muscles   can   take   to,   tuning   the   fine   motor   turns,   twists,      &      sinuous   motions   that   require   more   than   formidable   brute   force.      

the   lapsed   misstep      ---      the   fruitless,   swirling   BLUR   of   striping   crimson      &      cobalt   spun   around   the   building         ---      chips   away   at   her   determination,   her   borrowed   HOPE   from   her   compatriots   in   the   house   of   el.      crouched   back   on   her   heels,   still   coiled   to   the   ready,   resolution   closes   her   thumb   crooked   across   the   planche   of   curled   fingers   into   fists   fitted   at   her   sides.      

“      i   appreciate   the   advice,      ”      she   offers   up   on   the   launching   rear   of   her   posture.         “      —–      but   as   far   as   i   can   tell,   this   isn’t   exactly   over   yet.      ”      

the   needling   KNOCK   at   the   fragmented   remnants   of   her   dark   persona   hits   her   like   an   ice-water   splash,   sliding   in   to   cut   deeply   through   the   chinks   in   her   invulnerability.      that,   the   recognition   of   the   mottling   black   stains   on   her   own   conscience,   winds   a   wire   around   her   jaw.      it   ticks,   the   snapped   muscle   straining   starkly   against   the   skin.         

me: the batman is gonna be GREAT :D :D 

@speedprofessor : i’m a cinema snob, and i reserve greatness for seeing the movie :) 

there are three packs of camel golds sitting by loki on the curb.

it's not as dramatic as it looks, of course. she'd been on the end of a pack, smoked her way through a full one, and dipped back inside the gas station for the third which she was just starting on. the clerk at the counter had not looked at her, but loki didn't have any protests about it. she's here because it's liminal. she's here because it's past two in the morning and the only lights for five miles either way are here, in all their quietly buzzing fluorescence.

the only anything for five miles either way is here, and loki sits on the edge of it. a pair of sandals that should have broken in months ago now; short shorts in the syrupy summer heat, the curly mass of her hair for once clipped up off her neck. loki, sitting on the curb at the head of a parking spot, at the place where the lot becomes the grass becomes the open space and too-wide too-starred night sky.

the same ford truck in a different color every 20 minutes or so has been at pump 3, and loki's not sure what city or town she's outside of. this is somewhere, she's sure. north texas? she's been aching to get out of the loud, no more new york, no more chicago, no more miami. not until winter or not without reason, which it's likely her more human habits will become more quickly than she'd prefer.

it's ridiculous, how loud the scraping flick of her lighter is, the sizzle of burning tobacco. she's getting restless, now, turns and eyes the landscape behind her, off southeast. there's a line of trees that she doubts anyone else would be able to pick out. a few miles.

cover from the night sky bearing down and the sense of being closely watched by too much nothing. can't even get free from it in the middle of nowhere, and the more she sits the more she looks over to the trucker's area on the other side of the lot the more she itches and maybe that's why the clerk hadn't thought twice about her at all.

      her gaze scours his frame, and she’s almost painfully reminded of how well she knows that body of his. (  she says she’d never go back to that, but all parties know that’s a lie  ). there’s a moment where she seems like she has to compose herself, but then the moments over and she just gives him a look, suspicion arising in her gaze. “  i know you’re not here for the sightseeing, eobard. what are you up to?  “

“ Do you really think I earned a FUCKIN’ PHD without being able to read people? It’s all in your eyes. ” She leans in too close for your comfort, sniffing his neck. “ You want a taste. ”