(Upload) This time tomorrow
I was going to write one of the fics for Things That Never happened to Bruce, but the moment I decided on Wally, it… turned into this. Animatedly speaking, this is based on the Only a Dream episode, where Wally gets stuck into a frozen world that moves too slow for him. Batman/Flash wasn’t mean to get Wally all dark, but Bruce to lighten up! I don’t know what happened.
The second ficlet, if you care, was prompted by the Flash and Substance episode, when Orion is sure Wally is a buffoon and Bruce is all… hmm. Nice and weird and rough, telling Orion he’ll never understand Flash, and Orion eventually admits that the buffoon is only a mask. I might end up writing pr0n on the lines of Thrillseeking, but who knows. Plot bunnies are fickle things.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Wally or Bruce. I think that’s a good thing.
Pairing: Implied Batman/Flash
Summary: Flash is the fastest man alive.
Rating: PG? Maybe?
Author nothes: Thanks to
sasha_anu for the beta!
Grains of Sand
If you were fast enough, you could accomplish anything. Everything you might want is a matter of working towards it and having enough time in your lifespan to accomplish it.
When you are the fastest man alive, it means you have all the time you need, and more. And if you don’t need more time, there is still more available. If you had been procrastinating instead of working to get what you wanted, and then finally decided to get it done, you would still have time. It probably wasn’t even before noon yet.
Wally’s thoughts reeled almost as fast as his body, no matter how much joy he found in life and how curious about everything he might be, he knew that he would get bored one day. It would be an impossible state to overcome; apathy briefly broken by short spells of amusement.
He would be like one of those immortal kings with dour faces, sitting on his throne just watching eternity pass him by.
He was a hero now, and he loved every second of it. The rest of his life he liked well enough, for now. He was just 24, but when every second stretched so far, 24 years was a lot. The prospect of a human lifetime stretching ahead of him was not dissimilar to eternity.
He had all the time in the world, for better or for worse.
He liked mechanics. Soon, he would know all there was to know about them. He was a great mechanic now and he would eventually be the best. It was only a matter of time. Eventually, it would become a tiresome task, and he would start on something else. It could be months; it could be years from now.
It could very well be tomorrow.
Thrill seeking
Wally didn’t think other people saw him as cold or distant, but he knew that some of the more observant could see he always wore a mask.
The mask wasn’t meant to deceive or hide. Its purpose was to make people feel more comfortable around him, showing a happy, open, fun Wally that others could easily like.
And Wally was indeed happy, open and fun. But living in a world so slow took a lot of effort. He could think of something funny, mean to share it and by the time he got their attention, it wasn’t so funny anymore. By the end of the joke, his mind was already somewhere else. So he smiled anyway, feeling like he had been smiling forever, until the smile was frozen into place.
Verbal communication was the stuff of nightmares. People talked and delved into topics in ways that were torture to him. Being on a team meant a lot of pretending, pretending to smile, to listen, to care for things a million years gone by, even if it was just last week’s crisis.
Touch was another matter. It was well received; it lasted, lingered, and communicated things a lot faster than talking, even if it was slow. Wally was a man of action.
He craved stimuli like other people craved affection, money or power. All those things were fleeting and easily achieved with enough time. But stimuli were a finite thing; if he lived long enough he would find himself jaded and tired with everything in the world.
Therefore, he didn’t mind that his lover couldn’t provide him affection. He could give him many other things, and who knew for how long. His mind was mysteriously twisted; games were constantly played, keeping him on his toes with anticipation. Everything from playful petting to painfully delicious scenarios, experiments designed to please his body and entice his hyperactive mind.
There was a way to know every corner and get bored of Bruce’s mind, but it would take time. It could be months; it could be years from now.
It could very well be tomorrow.
The second ficlet, if you care, was prompted by the Flash and Substance episode, when Orion is sure Wally is a buffoon and Bruce is all… hmm. Nice and weird and rough, telling Orion he’ll never understand Flash, and Orion eventually admits that the buffoon is only a mask. I might end up writing pr0n on the lines of Thrillseeking, but who knows. Plot bunnies are fickle things.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Wally or Bruce. I think that’s a good thing.
Pairing: Implied Batman/Flash
Summary: Flash is the fastest man alive.
Rating: PG? Maybe?
Author nothes: Thanks to
sasha_anu for the beta!
Grains of Sand
If you were fast enough, you could accomplish anything. Everything you might want is a matter of working towards it and having enough time in your lifespan to accomplish it.
When you are the fastest man alive, it means you have all the time you need, and more. And if you don’t need more time, there is still more available. If you had been procrastinating instead of working to get what you wanted, and then finally decided to get it done, you would still have time. It probably wasn’t even before noon yet.
Wally’s thoughts reeled almost as fast as his body, no matter how much joy he found in life and how curious about everything he might be, he knew that he would get bored one day. It would be an impossible state to overcome; apathy briefly broken by short spells of amusement.
He would be like one of those immortal kings with dour faces, sitting on his throne just watching eternity pass him by.
He was a hero now, and he loved every second of it. The rest of his life he liked well enough, for now. He was just 24, but when every second stretched so far, 24 years was a lot. The prospect of a human lifetime stretching ahead of him was not dissimilar to eternity.
He had all the time in the world, for better or for worse.
He liked mechanics. Soon, he would know all there was to know about them. He was a great mechanic now and he would eventually be the best. It was only a matter of time. Eventually, it would become a tiresome task, and he would start on something else. It could be months; it could be years from now.
It could very well be tomorrow.
Thrill seeking
Wally didn’t think other people saw him as cold or distant, but he knew that some of the more observant could see he always wore a mask.
The mask wasn’t meant to deceive or hide. Its purpose was to make people feel more comfortable around him, showing a happy, open, fun Wally that others could easily like.
And Wally was indeed happy, open and fun. But living in a world so slow took a lot of effort. He could think of something funny, mean to share it and by the time he got their attention, it wasn’t so funny anymore. By the end of the joke, his mind was already somewhere else. So he smiled anyway, feeling like he had been smiling forever, until the smile was frozen into place.
Verbal communication was the stuff of nightmares. People talked and delved into topics in ways that were torture to him. Being on a team meant a lot of pretending, pretending to smile, to listen, to care for things a million years gone by, even if it was just last week’s crisis.
Touch was another matter. It was well received; it lasted, lingered, and communicated things a lot faster than talking, even if it was slow. Wally was a man of action.
He craved stimuli like other people craved affection, money or power. All those things were fleeting and easily achieved with enough time. But stimuli were a finite thing; if he lived long enough he would find himself jaded and tired with everything in the world.
Therefore, he didn’t mind that his lover couldn’t provide him affection. He could give him many other things, and who knew for how long. His mind was mysteriously twisted; games were constantly played, keeping him on his toes with anticipation. Everything from playful petting to painfully delicious scenarios, experiments designed to please his body and entice his hyperactive mind.
There was a way to know every corner and get bored of Bruce’s mind, but it would take time. It could be months; it could be years from now.
It could very well be tomorrow.