but wally’s stand out, unnaturally pale against his sunburned and freckled skin. lightning scars are rare, and for more than half of the people who’ve survived getting struck by lightning, they fade within a couple hours. (unless your name is dick grayson, in which case the scars turn to art on your skin.) but wally, they look at wally’s scars with fascination. heavily scarred people like his friends always tend to make people stare unabashedly, yet step away with fear. the bats have more scars than the rest of the hero community combined, barring maybe roy. it’s not like that’s uncommon with a bunch of superheroes for friends. he licked and sucked at the way it wound its way over his back and across his neck, but when he reached the slightly protruding bone, the way the lightning highlighted the hollow of his throat, he sunk his teeth down, harsh and fierce, and it never failed to make wally gasp. dick liked to bite the one lone lighting mark that was starkly patterned across his collarbone. dick’s gentle fingertips don’t exactly help, but they don’t hurt either. it’s there that hurts wally the most, it’s that spot that causes him to kneel over in pain, awash in memories. dick liked to run the pads of his fingers over the center of his back, lightly, where the lightning had struck first. wally’s arms have two different possessive marks on them: a claim of the speedforce and property of dick grayson. he’d do it in private, in public, and with family. dick liked to scratch his nails over the lightning scars that wound their way up and down his arms in a territorial claim. dick liked to fit his fingers into the hollow of wally’s ribs, just over the lightning scars stretched across the skin of his ribcage. no matter how many times he did it, dick always seemed mesmerized by the jagged pattern. then he traced each and every line, with his fingertips, with his lips, with his tongue, with his teeth. sure, sometimes he’d use the lotion, but what he liked to do the most was guide wally’s arms through and off his shirt and to shove him down on the bed. aunt iris would rub some cool lotion on his back, and for a while, he’d be better.ĭick had another way of making the pain go away. when he was little, uncle barry would hug him through the jolts of pain, the sympathy that wally absolutely hated clouding his eyes, but barry’s arms were strong and his hugs were solid, so wally stayed put and let that sickeningly sweet sympathy drip down over barry’s eyelids into syrupy tears that soaked into his hair. it’s so hot it’s almost cold, it’s painful, and it brings back memories of the sheer stubbornness he had when he was a kid to be someone important, to matter. it’s not the speedforce, whose power envelops him in a warm way that makes him feel alive, makes him sizzle. occasionally, wally will feel a red hot bolt strike through his body. they’re thin but deep, the lines are small but bold and sharp. they brush his sides, feathering his ribs, and some lines even go down his arms. the white lines center around his back and wrap their way around his shoulders, possessive and stark against his freckles. Headcanon that wally has lightning scars.
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