Wally West is a speedster. It is who he is. If one was to make a list of his traits, right up there with 'always hungry', 'funny', 'irritating' and 'flirty' is 'fast.'
Wally West is very, very, fast.
Fast with his mouth, fast with his brain, fast with his body. Zipping around, usually for no reason whatsoever, colors blurring into a multi-colored blob. Skidding to a halt to avoid running someone over and occasionally not quite making it in time. His speed literally makes his face ripple with the G-force and his muscles feel liquid and smooth, sleek, compact.
Powerful.
His entire frame instantly feels about ten feet taller and as his muscles elongate and shorten in turn, his hair is whipped by the wind, and a few times after his runs, he's found the ends actually singed. And sometimes he gets wind burned cheekbones.
And yet, if only for a few minutes, he's a god. His body is light as air and at the same time, solid enough to be substantial. He is that magical being, trapped halfway between liquid and solid, and the feeling is just beyond.
The energy humming through his body at lightning speed and his mind just clicks off altogether and his muscles tremble and then go taut with exhilaration and the world suddenly and abruptly stops spinning on its axis because Wally West is flying, flying and this moment, this moment right now with the world rushing past faster than anything else ever experienced is happening at this very moment and the universe is full of options and he is freer than anything on Earth-
-nothing else could ever compare.