tushanshu_logs | open | that catch-all thing

Entry tags:

open | that catch-all thing

Characters: Barry Allen & anyone/everyone/your mom
Date: aaaall throughout January
Location: around
Situation: a bunch
Warnings/Rating: nothin' for now
Additional: There's a couple starters under the cut, but feel free to drop a starter or shoot me a PM if there's anything in particular you want.

A ~~stands for Actual Idiot Barry Allen~~

Anyone stopping by one of the bakeries this morning will be greeted by the lovely sound of loud angry yelling paired with much softer apologetic stuttering.

Why? Because under the tutelage of one (1) Bart Allen, Barry's been slowly learning the intricacies of the kedan language. Generally, learning anything doesn't take all that long for him - but since he actually wants to remember what he's learned this time around, he's been forced to put some effort into the whole process. He's learned how to 'say' a number of simple phrases, 'say' because learning how to speak and understand kedanese by ear has been proved to be virtually impossible, thanks to 'stupid translation magic' (to quote a certain someone). But he's determined to at least take a stab at it, pouring over kedan children's books and repeating words in it again and again the way he thinks they might sound aloud.

Today is his first real test: he's bought a freshly baked pastry from a nearby bakery for breakfast and plans to compliment the kedan running the place.

"This pastry tastes delicious" is what he attempts to say.

Unfortunately it comes out translated as "Your mother tastes delicious."

Thus far during his time here, Barry hasn't had too many opportunities to put on the suit and generally be visible in the public eye. Clark's already got that side covered and Barry's still feeling the lingering aftereffects of all the parades thrown in his honor. He still patrols often enough but those tend to be early morning or late at night, when most of the general populace is asleep.

But there's snow everywhere and the Earth Sector could totally use a bit more decoration, which means Barry's out and about in bright red and gold making whatever he feels like out of the snow. A snowman family, a lion, a giant microscope....

Currently he's working on detailing a miniature Asian-inspired temple. It's quite possibly the most elaborate thing he's made so far, which naturally means it should be the first thing to be destroyed.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Tony, like any man of good taste, has been making it his goal to sample different Sectors' popular restaurants and food sites in order to find the best ones. He does make some time to get around, and on this occasion that is exactly what he's doing when he hears the loud noises coming from a nearby bakery. He has to check it out, of course, and when he finds the kedan yelling at the would-be patron, he quirks a small smile.

"Well, you don't see that every day. You didn't sleep with someone's daughter, right? You would have earned that if you did."

He can be helpful. He can be helpful after he's laughed a little.

The only thing more mortifying that the implication of having slept with someone's mother is having that implication be witnessed by a complete and utter stranger. If Barry hadn't been bright red before he certainly is now, his face the exact shade of the filling of the half-eaten pastry held in his hands. Still, he's holding up okay as he looks at Tony, and the only sign of his wobbling self-esteem is the slight outward jut of his lower lip.

"Not here." His tone of voice is rather pained and the word choice is questionable—but if it sparks any questions, at least he's equipped to answer them. "Someone's teaching me kedanese but learning to speak it has been—difficult."

As evidenced right now.

Well, that's just damn cute. Tony can pick up on pouting even when it's subtle. Having spent years learning to decipher the expressions of a lot of stoic heroes who seemed to make non-expression a lifestyle choice, he's become adept at picking up little changes.

To his credit, Tony doesn't laugh. He gives the man one of his more charming smiles and tries to reassure him with a casual, relaxed posture. That tends to make him appear less invasive, he's found. The man doesn't need to feel like he's being mocked by strangers on the street. He moves forward and past Barry, making a purchase of his own and gently smoothing over the tension with the shopkeeper. A healthy payment and one box of pastries later, he is ushering Barry away from the bakery.

"You did good. I'm sure it was minor, whatever it was. They can take things a bit more seriously than they need to. Hey, want to grab some coffee? I can't eat all of these on my own."

You can go 'damn cute' yourself, Tony. Barry has just undergone his traumatic experience of the week and there is nothing that's damn cute about any of this.

If he were smart, he'd take this interruption and run, silently slip away with his burning cheeks and slump of shame. But he was the one who started this whole debacle and even if he isn't able to finish it, he can at least stick around to its resolution, which apparently involves a healthy amount of juulan and a large box of pastries.

The man acts surprisingly fast, even to his own altered perception, and there's still a lingering daze around Barry as he exits the bakery, prompting him to reply automatically with:

"I don't drink coffee." Followed by a, "Not regularly, at least. Caffeine and I don't mix very well."

Depending on definition of 'well.' His generally does not include having his perceptions amped up to 11 on a scale of 1 to 10. Still, that's not very helpful to this stranger, who has been nothing but helpful, and so Barry goes forth to amend his previous statement.

"But a cup of juice would be welcome right now."

Well, he is damn cute too in his opinion, so he could do that too. At the moment, Tony is enjoying the whole confusion Barry started. It's kind of like a game. For him, at least.

Tony ushers Barry outside and away from the bakery, smiling cheerfully at the kedan and even waving to keep them in good graces. Once they are outside, he turns his attention to Barry with all of his businesslike intensity.

"We'll get you some juice, then. You look like you could use a little relaxation anyway. Do you come here often?"

He grins and winks, teasing the other man with an unapologetic arm draped over his shoulders and the box of pastries held in front of him as if Tony intended to give him the desserts the whole time. And maybe he did. It's hard to tell how much of that was really planned out and how much was improvised just to keep a fight from breaking out. He didn't have that long to come up with a response, but apparently he has taken to Barry anyway.

"I don't know what I bought, to be honest. I just pointed at whatever looked good. Maybe you can give me your suggestions."

Barry, despite being a very in-person sort of guy, has never really been much of the touchy-feely type. Blame the old-fashioned gentlemen in him; personal boundaries are meant to be respected, and he's always put a healthy amount of distance between him and another person.

So the fact that this stranger - whose name he doesn't even know yet - has his arm draped around Barry's shoulders and is looking at him like they're suddenly the closest of friends is unnerving and he tenses, uncomfortable with the entire situation.

"Every now and then. Not enough to assert my innocence, from the looks from things." He should have stuck to his usual cafe or better yet, not picked one at all. Too late for that now.

The confession is a surprise though; even knowing Hal and his reckless ways, people who act first and think later will always be a mystery to him. Even in choosing a bakery to visit this morning, Barry had spent some time researching and finding out which places were good and which weren't.

"Everything's good, though they're known for their turnovers." It's said with a hint of a smile. The mundane chatter is welcome. "You should try one."

Tony and boundaries are a delicate matter. Sometimes he doesn't want any physical contact--being the center of attention attracts enough of that as it is--and other times he seems to forget entirely that people tend not to like unsolicited gestures from people they've barely met. If he notices the way Barry tenses up, he doesn't pay him any mind.

"Well, you know how people are. You say one thing to a guy having a bad day and suddenly everything's on your head." He smiles easily, as if trying to reassure Barry that this happens every day. Anyone could have said the wrong thing and gotten like treatment--and that is perhaps true. But Tony has his own way of doing things and those ways don't always match up with everyone else's.

"So. Turnovers, huh? Since you're an expert, maybe I should be asking you for advice for picking up food. Here, I'll buy your drink. Take some of these off my hands."

He lets Barry go and grins a little, wearing the air of a naive rich man. He's not technically as rich as he used to be anymore, but it's still in his posture and his energy, coaxing Barry along even after he stops leaning on him.

"Besides, this is way too many sweets for me."

For all the Barry's spent plenty of time - and is friends - with a number of the richest men in the world, none of those airs or behaviors have ever rubbed off on him. He still lives stubbornly from paycheck to paycheck, carefully tracking his accounts and making sure he has enough to cover both regular living expenses for the next several weeks as well as any emergencies that might arise. He's not poor, by any means, but the value of a dollar is still hammered firmly into his mind.

All the same, it doesn't put him any less at ease around Tony. He doesn't know who Tony is, or what his status is on the turtle, but he can recognize that air after so much time spent around Bruce, and it's interesting to watch.

"They'll just be going to someone else if you give them to me. I can't eat all of these by myself." All the same, he takes the offered box, one hand holding each side. Maybe he'll hand them off to Bart. Kid could definitely eat a lot, and definitely when it came to sweet things. "But I appreciate it. And I wouldn't call myself an expert. More a appreciator."

Is that even a word? Who knows. He's a country boy; impeccable grammar's never been all that important to him.

Tony is what he's always been at heart. Sometimes genius, sometimes nothing but an idiot (it's very hard to deny that fact), but always a businessman and always someone who wants to give a little of what he has. Even if he is just giving away pastries. The energy and flippant way he treats the situation are just Tony's way of socializing. And, yes, Barry's instinct in recognizing Tony's air is dead on too.

He hands over the box cheerfully. He doesn't really care where the contents ultimately end up--he'd only bought them to soothe the irate bakery clerk. Instead, Tony is more interested in the man who almost got himself mobbed by trying to say thank you.

"Oh, you're an appreciator of something. I'm pretty sure that guy is going to tell all his buddies about this later. I think I need to add this to my list of amazing feats to pull at parties: accidentally hitting on someone's mom. That sounds like it would liven things up anywhere."

He smiles and offers his hand, despite both of Barry's being full. Apparently that detail slipped Tony's mind.

"Tony Stark. Not as familiar with bakeries as fine dining, but I could branch out if it's always this interesting."

Christmas is great. Being away from home is less great, but Gentarou has been doing pretty well with adapting since his arrival. He had decorated the tree near his suite with ornaments that looked like planets and stars, found a Christmasy hate (although unfortunately not a sweater), and seen some pretty impressive lights and displays around Keeliai put up by everyone else. All in all, he's been having a good time.

So when he sees the guy in the weird red pajamas building snow models in the Earth Sector, he has to go check it out.

"Whoa. You built all of those, mister?" Oh, he's impressed. It seems like each day he's seeing some incredible new talent from another person in the city. As much as he misses his other friends, the people here are absolutely worth the trip. "Are you an artist?"

Only an artist would wear something like that, right?

Truth be told, while the figures and models might all seem impressive, they lack a certain 'life' that people like Kyle manage to imbue into his art. From a technical standpoint, Barry knows how to best roll a snowball to get it the size he wants, or how wide the base of a snow building should be in order to support what he wants to build on top. But being able to breathe life into his work? Yeah, that's not something he's ever really going to get.

Still, the impressed look he gets is welcome enough and Gentarou gets a responding smile.

"Not a very good one." Barry please. "But I did build all of them. Call it an exercise. And it'd be a waste of snow not to build anything."

Gentarou, despite appearing ditzy a lot of the time, does tell the difference between technical perfection and something built from the heart. If asked, he'd probably say that, yes, Barry doesn't build like an artist. But that doesn't make it less great to see. He put effort into it, and that's what Gentarou judges it on. Not to mention that he himself is a horrible artist from a technical standpoint. He can appreciate impressive feats.

"You're kidding. It's awesome! That's what we need. We should build a snow city to go in the big city! I think the kedan people would like that."

He grins and crouches down in front of the snow temple. Then, struck by sudden inspiration, he gets up and darts off with barely enough time to yell wait. When he returns, Gen has some small sticks ties together with loose strings from his clothes which he's used to make stick figures to stand in front of the temple.

"There. Now it's a town."

It's been some time since Barry's been around someone with such high levels of good cheer and the enthusiasm is, to quote an old clique, infectious. In a world full of jaded and paranoid old men, this young man's guilelessness is refreshing.

"You think? Not a bad idea, actually."

He's got the time and resources for it, and why limit seasonal decoration to just one sector? Maybe after he finishes this one he'll make several more to keep this one company. It'll be like the Great Wall of China, except on the back of a slowly swimming turtle.

Barry's just about to open his mouth again and ask the boy if he wants to join in when hes running. Puzzled, he remains where he is, chipping away at his snow temple until motion at the corner of his eye signals a return, and he pivots slightly to watch as a small populace of citizens are set up right in front of his eyes.

"Nice one. A town's not complete without townspeople." It's endearing too, that he'd think about the occupants of a place and not just structures. "Do any of those represent you at all?"

(Shayera's all for smashing, but not so much works of art. No matter how much of a showoff the artist is. Okay, so even then she'll still smash it, but she wants a moment to take in the fact that while flying overhead, there was a very familiar blur of red and gold rushing around below. Easy to spot with the very obvious contrast against the snow. So lands in the snow, circling around to inspect his work.) Is it a Flash tradition to be a showoff?

[Barry isn't expecting company, but he's pleased to get it all the same. Shayera gets a cheerful smile and a small wave and a responding answer of:]

Only when there are people around.

[Like right now. Hey look, he's finished a whole side of the temple already. Doesn't it look great?]

(A Flash is the kind of company you're not sure you want to keep, tbh.) Somehow, I'm not surprised.

(She circles the snow temple, subtly admiring his talent, but. Moving at super speed lets you have talent.) How long did this one take, five minutes?

[WOW that's rude, Shayera. See if he ever buys you cookies again. Barry doesn't answer straightaway, taking another third-of-a-second to finish detailing the last wall before turning to face her and responding, crisply:]

Four and a half, actually. [He might sound just a little bit smug there.] But there wasn't enough snow here so I had to bring some over from a few blocks away.

(And see if she ever trains you again WHAT NOWWWWW.) You know, most people couldn't finish this in four and a half hours.

(You smug as shit showoff. WHY DOES SHAYERA HANG AROUND YOU LOSERS.) Wow. That must have been so much effort.

[Because you love them and they fill your life with joy and laughter. Or something along those lines. His smile doesn't disappear at all, and in fact only grows.]

I had time on my smile. And a couple of friends. [SPEAKING OF FRIENDS....] You're welcome to add your own touch to it, if you'd like.

(Did you mean: fighting. God, Barry, you're like a second Wally, this is so weird. At the offer to add her own little "personal touch", she begins circling the sculpture, trying to find that one spot for it. Eventually, she decides on a spot, and begins to write... Shayera was here.) Perfect.

[FLASHES OF A FEATHER FLOCK TOGETHER....or some such nonsense like that. Barry waits patiently, hands resting lightly on his hipds, as Shayera circles the sculpture. She ends up picking the side farthest from him, and out of curiosity, he zips up close so he can peer over her shoulder.

At the words, he can't help but raise an eyebrow.]

Impressive. But I don't think you wrote it big enough.

[Gosh, Shayera, however will people have known that you were here?]

(Flashes are made of nonsense. And wow, she is quite annoyed at your criticism, Mr. Showoff. She slaps her mace into her hand a few times, prepping to use it.) Want me to make it more obvious with this?

[Sugar and spice and everything nice, that's what Flashes are made of, thanks very much. And puh-leeze, no one can improve without helpful constructive criticism. It's a sign of how much he cares.

But he is eying that mace with some trepidation. Look, he spent a whole three minutes on that sculpture, it would be such a shame to have it destroyed.]

No, no, it looks fine from here. [Although, just to be sure...] You wouldn't really destroy it, would you?

[He sounds almost plaintive.]

(Flash, are you secretly a Powerpuff Girl.

And get used to it, Shayera's job is to trash shit and give no fucks about it. Seriously, it's in her contract.) You spent like four minutes on it, of course I wouldn't. Probably.

The morning's bright and the coffee's strong, two things that've kept Jax going after too many late nights at the bars and too little in the way of hangover cures. Truth told, it's the coffee more than the bright, but they go hand-in-hand since coffee's freshest in the morning, so he endures.

And he overhears too, being in this bakery to grab the local's rendition of a sausage roll to serve as breakfast.

Jax casts a sideways look to Barry, his eyebrows going up and a frown pulling at his lips. "You serious?" he asks, casting a look next to the kedan and back to Barry. "What the hell'd this guy do to you?"

The last thing Barry needs is a stranger witnessing his ultimate moment of humiliation, but naturally it's the first thing that happens, with Barry barely managing managing to mumble out an apology before another voice is piping up right next to him.

After the continuous string of upsets his life has been recently, he really shouldn't be suprised.

"Absolutely nothing." It comes out sharper than he intends and he sighs, a small exhale of breath out his nose. He's never been good with words, particularly under pressure. Calmer this time, as his free hand reaches up to rub at the back of his neck: "I misspoke. I tried to say something in kedanese but my pronunciation was off.

I apologize if I interrupted your meal."

The sharp tone gets his back up and those eyebrows stay up, because saying it's nothing that earned that shit? Not cool in his books or the charter of the Sons -- eye for an eye and all. Then there's reason and he hears it, but not sure how much he buys it.

"Seems like a cheap way to back outta this," he remarks. "Why'd you even try with all this voodoo translation around?"

The question is a legitimate question, even if the tone with which it's asked isn't reassuring. His fault though; he should have tried a less public area in which to demonstrate his less than stellar language skills.

"In case for some reason the translation fails. I'd like to not be left with only English, even if the majority of people here speak it." Barry sincerely hopes it won't fail any time soon, but given the state of distress they seemed to be in, he'd thought it prudent to learn.

Also, because he'd had free time on his hands.

"If you have better ideas, I'm all ears."

Monet's Christmas in the city was quiet. She'd seen no need to attend anything after Kirk's party, preferring to remain at home and wonder where one of her bags had gone (Ric had given it to Cassie; she'd have chewed him out but he replaced it with something better). Sometimes she takes a walk outside, in the snow, just to watch the children playing. If anyone sees the very brief, soft expression on her face and asks, she's not sentimental. She's just keeping tabs on them.

Despite having super-senses one doesn't always look where one's going, and by Murphy's Law she does step on one of the smaller outlying bits of Barry's creation. Turning, she frowns down at it, and then looks for the artist in question.

'Yours?'

It sounds more like she's asking about a feral animal than a work of art, but honestly, who expected something different?

He sees the body land first and hears the crunch of hardened snow second, but it's not until the question that he redirects his attention away from his sculpture towards the newcomer. There's something about this woman that demands attention, or at the very least respect; he gives her both, straightening so he can look her in the eyes.

"Mostly." He gestures at the little stick figures littering the surrounding area with a smile. "A friend of mine added those. I thought they were a nice touch."

No upwards swing of his speech into formality, or descent into self-defense. Barry has enough self-confidence to not need to impress her, even after years of being belittled as slow and unmotivated by Iris.

She meets his gaze with a calm, commanding expression, then she follows his hand to the small stick figures, which are intricately made. As much he's offending all good things under the sun with that ridiculous costume, it's insufficient reason to damage any more than she already has, not when he's giving her his full attention. She steps away from the area, precisely pressing her boot to the ground such that the snow gets shaken off as she walks, and examines the rest of the temple, telescopic vision coming in handy for some of the details.

'You're either very patient or very bored,' she muses aloud. 'Did the children help you?'

Don't let him hear you say that aloud, Monet. He's put a lot of thought and care into the costume, from the faint sheen to the eye-popping colors that grab the attention of anyone in a hundred-foot radius. That's the whole point of them, after all. But he lets her inspect, not particularly concerned with whether his sculpture passes or fails her mental examination.

"A bit of both, though more the latter than the former," he admits. His patience is pretty good—though only when compared to other speedsters. By itself, it's nothing impressive. "I thought the streets could use some more decoration."

And the snow won't last forever, something almost saddening for a Midwestern boy used to all four seasons. At the question, he shakes his head.

"No, but I'll remember for next time. I'm sure they're all far more creative than I am." Here, he spreads out one arm in a sweeping motion. "You're welcome to add to it, if you like. There's plenty of snow left."

She likes the red, Barry, but that's just about it. Costumes aren't her style - they're impractical and often unfashionable. She used to keep to clothes, but then it so happened that clothes got ruined when you were a private investigator and a mutant: clothes never did do well when shot at, even if you were bulletproof.

'I'm hardly an artist,' she remarks. She's more of a critic, but Barry can guess that by the way she finishes her inspection, and looks up at him. Monet is both annoyed and intrigued by people who don't bend immediately to her; annoying because she'd prefer them to, but intriguing, because then it becomes a game, another challenge, and she derives joy from winning that battle.

And also because her friends are people who don't bend to her. They stand beside her.

'I suggested the children because their snowmen are getting more and more intricate. Why, one even had cheekbones.'

"I hope you don't mean skeleton-wise."

The probably of that particular meaning being true is slim to none, but his mind's always taken a more analytical and anatomic bent. A side of effect of having seen one too many dead bodies? Maybe. Still, he says it with enough good humor to show that he's not entirely serious.

"Maybe I'll have to ask them for lessons. None of my snowmen have cheekbones." Which is not entirely untrue; he just hasn't made any snow men yet. Still, her comment elicits a curious tilt of the head from him. "Do you spend a lot of time with them? The kids?"

She doesn't much strike him as a kids person.

Good humour or something deeper, it's a very specific turn of phrase: skeletons. She's seen enough corpses in her time (smelled them, too) that it doesn't bother her personally, but here's a stranger bringing up the subject, even indirectly.

'No, I saw a few this morning.' She's not a kids person. She's not even a persons person, she honestly took notice to keep her skills sharp. 'The snow's everywhere and so are they, Monsieur.'

Saw a few. That particular turn of phrase makes it seem as though she's referring to wild animals and not children. Still, she's got his full attention now.

"Why not spend some time with them?" He's talked to one or two, and built a snowdog for another one, but his own interactions with them were fairly limited. Still, they'd seemed to have enjoyed it, a fact he says as much. "I'm sure they'd enjoy your company."

She may as well be referring to wild animals, but it's to distance herself as well. Monet can't have anyone thinking she actually gives a damn about anything but shoes, it'd ruin her carefully cultivated outer image of a selfish, spoiled brat. It's her armour, more so than makeup (which she doesn't wear much of, in Keeliai, due to lack of availability), and she polishes it regularly.

'I believe you already know the answer to that question,' she replies, thumb flicking over the nails on her index and middle finger. 'So why ask?'

"Habit," comes the answer. "It's the polite thing to do."

Which, really, probably says more about him than anything else he could say. If it paints the picture of a well-behaved man helping little old ladies across the street, then so be it. He'd rather be underestimated than observed with too critical of an eye.

"Unless you'd prefer I not be polite," he asks, one eyebrow raised under his cowl.

If there was ever a right answer to that question, Barry's hit upon it; Monet straightens up. For the first time in this conversation that she looks at him - truly looks, instead of just regarding him as a slightly more talkative and solid phantom. She considers politeness trapping only when it's convenient for her, but then again, she wouldn't claim not to be a hypocrite.

'I hope you're not getting ideas,' she replies, a hint of a teasing tone in her voice.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

open | that catch-all thing

A

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

F is for friends

fabulous forever friends?

fun-filled fantastic frolicking friends

yes excellent

b stands for bigass showoff flash

excuse u his ass is perfect

what ass

what are you trying to imply here

not implying anything. i'm SAYING barry has no booty

i find that comment extremely rude and offensive tbh

is this the face of a hawk lady that cares

RUDE. also wow I mean 'side' and not 'smile' in that last tag, wtf self....

i am v rude ty ty BUT BARRY ALWAYS HAS TIMED SMILES DIDN'T U KNO

I DID NOT thank u for enlightening me

no problem it's my job

A, if that's a-okay

a-bsolutely! sorry for the delay

and in turn, sorry for my delay :c

s'all good!

(B)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject