tushanshu | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

[Someone has recently spent several days out of phase and is still being a complete motormouth to make up for it.]

So autumn's really kicked it into high gear, and I was thinking that this'd be an awesome time for a bonfire on the beach. Something like the beginning of Jaws - only. Y'know. Minus the 3 ton killer shark. Thaaaaat was a terrible example. Like Pajama Party, without aliens. Um. OK. That one sucks too. There's aliens all over this turtle.

My retro movie knowledge is real limited guys. Is there a late night party in Beach Blanket Bingo? Read about it, haven't seen it. I've seen pictures of Annette Funicello though. She was pretty cute. Weird hair. She's not here, is she? A beach party with the queen of beach parties would be awesome.

So yeah. I was thinking maybe tomorrow night. Everyone's welcome. I'll bring the marshmallows. Everybody bring their own blanket and one thing to burn. I'd suggest we burn that iridescent paint, but then with my luck I'll get knocked out of this plane after my next shower and have to find another knick-knack with paint on it AND someone who knows Morse code. Again. Anyway. Attendees get two rules. We leave the beach and the ocean cleaner than we found them, and nobody mentions curfews.

Sound like a good idea to anyone else? I feel like I'm forgetting something.

[encrypted to Hayley, 50%]

Want a toasted marshmallow delivery if you don't turn up? [He puts both hands up and laughs.] Neutral location drop off. I respect privacy boundaries.

This is really just a check-in. But still serious on the sugar offer.

[Two OOC notes: 1. Sadly, I don't have time to put up a log for this tomorrow, but if anyone else wants to, feel free. 2. Bart is still under the after effects, wherein he does not remember Barry Allen. He is not aware of this.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Tim would have been a less embarrassing choice, yes, but Bart didn't want to involve him. There was always the chance, albeit slim, that he was the victim of an incredibly well-designed practical joke. If this had been one, Tim would've had a hand in it. It was too smart for anyone else.

And if Barry had been lying and it wasn't a joke... well. He knew too much about Bart's family to be unrelated. It was better to get his friends out of the way.

But none of that thinking mattered anymore.]

I've got nothing.

[Bart shoved his hands deeply into pockets and looked off towards the console.]

I asked him, and he said you're who you say you are. So. [He's sorry about not believing you.] Something... really messed with my head. Like Zatanna on Dr. Light messed with my head. I get why he was pissed now. I'd be slicing knees open too.

I mean. [Bart weakly waves a hand from Barry's head to feet.] I've never seen you before. But. I've seen you before. I had to. Right?

[Being a speedster means you're never really still. There's always something to do, something to think about, something more attention-grabbing than what's currently at hand. Just because he's learned to channel and control the need for motion after years upon years of living with it doesn't mean it affects him any less than it does Bart.

Right now though? He's completely, utterly still, blue eyes unblinking and mouth partly open to say something, though what he doesn't know. The choice to wipe Doctor Light's memory - and consequently, Batman's - was one he would've made again if circumstances chose to repeat themselves, but it was far from one of his finer moments. A moment Bart apparently knows about if it's being mentioned right now. True, it could be a throwaway line like half of the references Bart makes and that Barry never quite gets, but considering how hush the League has been about the whole affair Barry finds that explanation doubtful.

(How long has he known? Does he hate me for it—?)

Desperately, Barry wishes Iris were here. She'd always had a knack for knowing how to handle situations like these. But she's not and no amount of missing her will bring her here, so he settles for doing what he knows best to do, which is to zero in on the current problem and look for solutions.

Shifting gears and back into motion, he reaches out to place one hand on Bart's shoulder.]

We'll figure out what's going on, Bart. I promise. There's frustratingly little to go on right now but we'll find a way to get your memories back.

[For all that he awkwardly steps around Bart 95% of the time there's nothing Barry won't do for family. If it means he has to interrogate every last person - and kedan - in this place, then he will.]

But in the meantime, is there anything you want to know, anything I can tell you? We've only known each other a few months. [There's an attempt at a weak smile.] You're not missing that much.

[There's no reason for them to suffer through the slowness when they talk with each other, though, but Bart started defaulting to a normal speed a long time ago. Blame Max and Jay and their enormous, tree-filled lawns and comparatively tiny rakes.

Not that a faster speed would help this much. Bart would still be dealing with this gnawing, violated feeling and the association of 'unable to remember' with stupid. It would keep him from thinking so darn much. He doesn't notice that Barry's gone silent and still - and he would. It's so hard for Bart to do for long, even now, and it used to bug him how easy Max made it look.

But he doesn't notice, because his imagination kidnapped his thought processes, and they're currently chasing down 17,942 tangents about things that might've happened, only he can't remember due to Barry's involvement. Bart has a tragically happy imagination.

Barry's hand on his shoulder snaps him out the reverie, centers him again on the conversation. It's a trained response that no one probably meant to create, but everyone who's spent enough time with Bart to get annoyed with his scattiness has put their hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye. He nods a little at the reassurance. It's probably not fix-able, Bart knows way too much about brain injuries to really believe that it's fixable, and Dr. Light lost his marbles from something like this. But it sounds good. Sounds safe somehow. He couldn't explain it if he tried, except to say that Barry reminded him of Max.

What doesn't sound as good is the reveal that they've only known each other for months. Batman's description was vague and ambiguous - he almost made it sound like Barry's death was faked. Bart assumes it all happened ages ago. This doesn't make him question Barry's honesty; it makes him angry.

You only met me a couple months ago?

[Whatever moment they were having is over, and Bart takes a big step back.]

But I met Grandma Iris like - [A hair of a pause, and then he starts in again, increasing speed as he talks.] four years ago? Five? Why is time hard? - what did you do, run off on her or something? Gross, you did. That's why Batman thinks you're awesome. I thought it was gonna be one more person that I can't ever be good enough for, but it's because you probably cut off everyone for the job. I shoulda known it was something like that. It figures.

Edited 2013-11-16 00:18 (UTC)

[Stricken is a good word for what he's feeling right now, this twisting mass of emotion that's rearing its ugly head. He hadn't thought it would hurt this much for someone he barely knew to reject him in such a manner. He'd thought wrong. Not even the comment of 'Batman thinks you're awesome' is enough to shake him from it. But in all honesty, the comment goes in one ear and out the other.

The easy route would be to snap back, defend himself in a way reminiscent of all the arguments he'd had with Ollie once upon a time. But Ollie was a full-grown man with years of life experience under his belt and a penchant for riling him up intentionally regardless of the circumstance.

Yelling at Ollie was stress-relieving. Yelling at Bart would make him feel like an ass for the next five years to come.

Instead, he retracts his hand - the empty air beneath it feels oddly cold - and lets it fall back to rest at his side. The wounded look is wiped away immediately, replaced by the even neutral expression he'd been wearing moments before, and it's almost like the hurt was never there. Almost.]

I—Yes, I did. I don't know how much Batman told you. [Briefly, he recounts the events leading up to it: Iris's death, Zoom's murder, his trial.] We'd been in the future for a month by that time. Something came up; things usually do when you wear the red and gold. It turned out to be more serious than I'd expected and I didn't make it back.

[No anger. No resentment over Bart's implied accusation of his less-than-stellar behavior. Why would there be? Everything he'd said was technically true. Never mind that the world as they all knew it had been about to end, he'd left Iris behind despite her pleas for him not to go and had, in the process, left her without a husband, his children he'd never meet without a father, and Bart without a grandfather. So much for being a great role model.

There is one thing about Bart's little spiel that bugs him enough for him to frown, on top of the everything else that's been said so far.]

But why would you think you're not good enough?

[Immediately isn't quick enough to hide the ghost of an expression from another speedster, and Bart feels like a turd for opening his big mouth. Well, a little like a turd. Most of it is gone when Barry agrees that that's what he did.

The explanation doesn't go ignored, although Bart doesn't interrupt it at all. His grandmother died? He can't even tell if he knew that once and lost it because it was too connected to memories about Barry or if no one had bothered to tell him about it. It sounds like it'd happened before he was born, so maybe he was never told. Batman's recap of his grandfather's life had left out Zoom's death and the murder trial. He hates to think of the Flash legacy getting drug through the mud, but... Bart can remember laying on the ground and Inertia stomping on his face. And how earlier, he'd hoped to beat Thad to death to fulfill the whole Black Flash means a speedster dies prophecy. He has no stones to throw.

But the question makes him shrink. Of all the stupid things to say. He has to be more careful when he gets on a roll, but, sometimes, Bart works up such a head of steam that he can't think. He's, well, impulsive. Still. Probably forever. Despite knowing that his rambling can go too far, Bart can't shut himself up. He needs words and time and space and clutter in the conversation, and he's talking too fast to think much. ]

I know. I was the Flash for awhile. Maybe we shouldn't wear bright colors. Val called me a danger magnet. Zoom tried to save my life once, in a twisted way. I think he wanted to kill me himself. [Bart laughs a little. It sounds bitter.] Too bad, old man. It makes more sense now though.

[Bart finally shrugs and addresses the question. If he doesn't answer, he'll just get harassed endlessly about it. It's what he himself would do.]

Because I'm not. There's like a line of people who'd tell you that. Wally. Uncle Jay... I don't know anymore. I think he thought I was a pain, but then when I was older he kept pushing me to be the Flash. Now I'm a teenager again so I really don't know there. Batman probably thinks I'm brain-damaged. Even the Rogues think I'm a joke. Kinda funny cause it took seven of them plus Inertia and a machine to take me out.

Edited 2013-11-17 06:43 (UTC)

[Barry shouldn't be surprised by Bart's answer; the way Wally and Jay feel about Bart is probably somewhat similar to what he himself thinks of Bart. A ~~little~~ lot impulsive, overly enthusiastic about too many things in life, not the brightest bulb if one were to judge from outside actions only. But he's got a streak of good a mile wide that Barry's gotten glimpses of and it's that above all else that gives Barry pause as he tries to figure out where to start in this snarl of self-worth (or lack thereof) that's been seemingly perpetrated for the last several years.

He starts with the easiest point to refute.]

Batman thinks most people are brain-damaged and the Rogues are a joke themselves. I wouldn't pay them much mind. As for Wally and Jay...

[Barry sighs before continuing on.]

A lot of people forget what it's like to be young, myself included. We see youthful enthusiasm and call it immaturity and inexperience, and then try and stomp it out as quick as possible. Quick is how we operate, after all. [For better or for worse.] But Jay pushed you because he knows you have it in you. Wally too. You'll be better than all of us and run faster than all of us one day and we're all proud of you, even if some of us have difficulty saying it half the time.

[Even as he finishes saying that, he's acutely aware of how trite this must all seem: the stereotypical speech from someone placed on a high pedestal (despite all his protests). It doesn't help that he's never been good with words, especially during serious moments. Any second now the metaphorical walls are going to come crumbling down - even more than they already have - and the thought makes him want to crawl out of his skin. Instead, he circles back around to Bart's first point.]

If you've got a better idea for colors, though, I'm all ears, even if I am attached to the red and yellow.

[Bart wants to hear exactly none of this right now, from someone he can't remember. He doesn't even want to hear it from the people he does know. Certainly not Wally, who'd make it sound like a lecture. Jay... probably wouldn't say it. Bart's focusing in on all the wrong words in the speech, anyway. Too familiar ones like immature that stand old like they're bolded. He's so sick of hearing that word from everyone when he screws up.

He tried to lose the label, he really did, but then Wally just told him he was trying too hard. Bart doesn't know what you people want from him anymore. He's immature because he just got out of a VR fantasy world. Because he just got dumped on a stranger since his family can't be bothered and he's testing boundaries. Because he just lost his father figure. Because he's 17 in a 21 year old's body. Jesus Christ, that one wasn't even his fault.

How about because he isn't even six yet, and the learning curve for the real world has been pretty dang steep? Yeah, every one made a big deal about how he had no clue what danger was, but what about everything else? You think the VR program cared if he did his homework or hung up his coat? Told the truth with no tall tales? No. It didn't. Bart has given up on it this time around the sun. He just wants to be happy, and trying to be what other people wanted wasn't cutting it last time.

Also not cutting it, Barry's cornpone speech. About the kid he's only known a few months. Bart isn't making eye contact by better and proud sees him turn aside. He wanders off during the color discussion.]

Don't. And like I care what the colors are. It doesn't matter. I'd wear lavender if they told me to. Red attracts the human eye more than any other color. It's hard-wired into the brain. I'd rather have everyone looking and aiming at me.

[He should stop fidgeting around and picking things up. He's only putting them on the furniture instead of the floor. Zip back to the real topic and tell Barry he wasn't asking for his opinion. Remind him that this is the first time they've met to him, so all it's doing is making him uncomfortable. It's like it might as well be Hawkman. He just wants the conversation to stop.

And he's at the door before he can really think about it, holding it open and getting a blast of frigid air for his trouble.]

You should. Probably get going. I don't want to keep you from anything. And Tim's old man is the nosiest person ever put on the face of any planet in any millenium.

Edited 2013-11-26 02:12 (UTC)

That's why we wear the red, so people aim at us instead of everyone else—

[—is what he wants to say, but it'd come off patronizing, judgmental, and he's already screwed up enough that he doesn't want to add yet another thing gone wrong to his already large pile. If Barry were a man for whom swearing was a common occurrence, phrases like 'way to fuck up, Barry' might be running through his mind right about now. As it is, a number of more PG variants are descending like vultures onto the corpse of what once used to be his self-confidence.

Idiot. That's what he is, for giving stupid speeches to a boy who doesn't have the faintest idea of who he is in the middle of a house that's no doubt filled to the brim with tapped cameras and microphones. God, he really doesn't want to have to explain this to Bruce. Or to anyone. Maybe he should just leave, make up some nonsensical excuse about having to run soil samples for the kedan farm four doors down. Except as he's about to open his mouth to do just that, he's beaten to the punch by a gust of cold air and an open door, almost mocking in how wide open it is.

Late even to his own departure. But of course. It would have been funny if it hadn't been so depressing.

He makes it to the open doorway with a nod of acknowledgement. He should say something but if he's learned anything from the past ten minutes, it's that him saying things leads to disaster. So he keeps his mouth shut and sidles out, pausing just outside to give Bart a look that's half apologetic, half kicked-puppy before bolting off in the direction of home.]

[Even with the aid of missing memories, Bart is only pulling off this ejection with stubbornness and the pain of old slights all done by people not named Barry Allen - or the ones done by Barry to people not named Bart Allen. He hasn't forgotten that Barry said he left Iris.

Nobody messes with his grandma. Nobody.

But the way that Barry turns and looks at him, like it hurts to get asked to leave. Actually... it probably does, and a wave of guilt breaks on him. Wait. No, stop. Please... I want to know what I'm missing. Can - tell me about my dad.

But Barry's gone before he can say anything, and it's cold. Bart eventually closes the door.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(no subject)

action

action;

Re: action;

action;

action;

action; strolls in ten days late with starbucks

Typical, Barry.

no subject

no subject