#superman was calm right up until that moment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thiccpersonality · 6 months ago

Text

Heaven Help Me: I Had To Leave My Children Home Alone For Work, And I Hope That When I Return I Have A Home (and Children) To Come Back To

If anyone were to ask Bruce or Batman how much he adored his kids, he probably wouldn't answer you-but! Some certain superheroes (looking at you Superman and Supergirl) would be able to hear the shift of the usually calm heart beat at the question, maybe even be able to smell the contentment and love that radiates off of Bruce at the simple thought of his chaotic children. Should he learn to actually answer the question honestly without fear of seeming weak? Most definitely. But if you were to tell the Big Ol' Bat™ that, you know what he'd tell you? Shut up.

Anywho, this isn't about Bruce's deep rooted emotional issues, this is about how much he loves and cares for his kids. How much he wants to see them happy, content-and most importantly-alive.

Anyone that has come to know Bruce well enough might tell him that the last part is a little over dramatic. They'd roll their eyes at his antics and tell him to, "just calm down. You're only leaving for work, they'll be fine." But that is the issue, he has to leave his kids home alone...you know? Together. In the Manor-did Bruce mention he's leaving them ALONE yet? Because he has to leave them alone without any adult supervision. And Bruce does NOT care that Richard is twenty-five years old, he knows that he'll be too lenient on Tim's coffee intake and Damian-oh, God! He will probably try and introduce his poor baby to the-in Dick's words-"the wonders of sugar!"

Bruce shivers violently at the thought of coming back to his home-scratch that, he is worried he won't have a home (or children) to come back to.

"Maybe I don't have to leave, Alfred. I have people that can do my job for me." Bruce stands in front of the mirror just in front of the entrance door, smoothing his perfectly combed hair back in a show of how distressed leaving his kids is making him. Alfred (bless his dear heart) just smiles patiently and ever so kindly at his son through the mirror, grabbing the car key after making sure all of Bruce's suitcases are accounted for. "But you have been planning this event for awhile, Bruce. You have been so excited to open up the new orphanages and learning centers, why the worry now? You know young Master Richard can be trusted with his siblings."

Bruce turns around to face his father, his posture a bit more relaxed compared to before, leave it to Alfred to know what to say. "You're right...maybe I-"

Before Alfred can make any sarcastic comment about always being right, the little moment between father and son is ruined by the sound of Damian stomping down the steps and peaking over the railing with a pout a glare. "Father! Are you departing so soon without me? I have packed my things! So I should be ready to partake in this adventure with you."

Bruce can only stare in surprise as Damian rushes down the rest of the steps, his suitcase thumping against the wood as he drags the too big thing behind him, his little socked feet shuffling against the floor until he is proudly standing in front of Bruce, his big green eyes sparkling in anticipation as he looks up to his father. The sound that escapes Bruce can only be accurately described as the air being punched out of him, he can't handle Damian when he gets like this...so the only solution obviously is-"We can bring him. I don't think they'll mind an extra Wayne attending the opening."

Damian nods and reaches for his shoes, a curse escaping him as a pillow is very precisely thrown at his hands, forcing him to drop his shoes.

"Hold it right there, kid. Dad said that we ALL had to stay here and that I, Richard John Grayson, would be allowed to watch my adorable little siblings. Isn't that right, B?" Bruce freezes at the stares he receives from his eldest and youngest child, he can't exactly go back on his word to Richard now...Heaven knows the young man will be crushed if Bruce changes his mind and takes Damian with him, plus, the boy does have school to attend.

"I...did say that, yes." The man gives a defeated sigh and looks down at Damian with the best reassuring smile he can muster, it's kind of hard when he doesn't want to leave his kids alone either, "I'm sorry, Dami. Maybe next time you can come with me, okay? For now, you listen to your older brothers-" Bruce pauses at Jason's cackling coming from the kitchen at those words-"Listen to Dick, okay? And no unnecessary arguments with Tim." Damian's shoulders slump in defeat, his eyes only widening under the instructions to-to listen to Richard-ha! "But father, who will be aiding you on this mission of yours? All due respect to Pennyworth...but he is not as young as he once was."

What does Damian mean by adventure and mission? Bruce is only traveling to officially open up a couple orphanages and education centers in Haiti and a couple other places.

"Damian, what do you mean by that?"

Jason makes an appearance in the kitchen entrance, a tub of ice cream tucked in-between his arms like a baby. "Pipsqueak here thinks your giving a secret code for a mission you have somewhere. I tried to tell him that you are genuinely just traveling for work, but he just cursed me in Arabic and then said something about me being a snake and speaking my native tongue: lies."

Bruce looks back down at Damian with a humored look in his eyes, "I'm going to work out some things abroad. I have been working on some nice things for some very good people, Damian. Batman's work isn't just at night, you know? It's helping the people be able to live easier day-to-day too." Damian manages to slump even more, tugging his suitcase close to himself while muttering, "Then can I go quickly pack my regular clothes? I can still come." The young boy shouts at Richard picking him up and holding tightly onto him, the older stubbornly keeping his grip firm despite the struggle while he turns to give Bruce a dazzling smile.

"You go have fun with those other kids! I know-ow! No biting, Damian! I know how much you enjoy children and I'm sure they'll appreciate your dedication to their health and education. I promise not to burn anything down while you and Alfie are away!"

Bruce was feeling reassured up until Dick mentioned not burning anything down...now all he'll be imagining is his kids trapped in this maze of a home screaming as its burning down. But before he can say anything about it, Alfred honks the car horn loudly thrice, signaling to Bruce that he shouldn't keep his personal pilots waiting any longer, so, with a sigh and a slightly worried look in his eyes, Bruce bends down to kiss Damian on his cheek goodbye. Smiling fondly at the eager look he receives from Richard when sitting back up and also placing a loving kiss on his eldest son's face as well, he quickly walks over to Jason and surprises him with a kiss as well, causing the nineteen-year-old to blush and sputter.

As Bruce turns to find Tim, the boy suddenly appears behind him, his eyes glued onto his tablet while tilting his face slightly to the side so Bruce can access his cheek.

After giving all four a kiss, Bruce feels he can finally leave...well, not without shouting rules and safety measures while slowly inching his way towards the car. The man finally leaving after Alfred honks at him again. Richard holds Damian up with an arm wrapped around his chest, letting the boy dangle while he waves at the car goodbye, sighing and shaking his head fondly when he can't see the car anymore. "B sure is something, isn't he?"

Damian crosses his arms and huffs: "By something, do you mean a traitor? I thought he loved me...I wanted to go with him."

Richard coos at Damian, quickly apologizing to the younger when he tries biting at him again for the babying. "Okay, okay...I get it! I made a list of fun things we can do together! I thought this could be a chance for us to bond more now that Bruce is away and we usually end up agreeing to surround him like a flock anyway. This time can be for just us as brothers and-yes, Jason?" The older teen lowers his hand after his name is called, "Do any of the things on your list include bank robbery?"

Richard is taken aback by the question, "You remember that I'm also a cop? Why are you asking me that? I'm supposed to uphold the law."

Jason scoffs and shrugs, "Supposed to doesn't mean you are. I'm just asking to see what our list of things are-oh, oh! Or maybe we can set fire to a gang's hideout I've been eyeing recently, they've been giving me a lot of shit lately and I don't appreciate it." Richard nods politely while sitting himself and Damian down on the couch, "Yeah...I appreciate your enthusiasm, Jay. But I don't think doing a crime is exactly the best way to have fun." Damian looks up at his eldest brother questioningly for the response, "I hate to agree with Todd...but that does sound very enjoyable. Who doesn't like fire?"

"Right? See. Baby Bird gets it." Jason says proudly.

Richard looks horrified, a scenario of him and his brothers stuck in a holding cell until Bruce is called back being all he needs to shake his head quickly in refusal. "Nope! I'm going to have to keep my eyes on you two. We aren't committing arson and we aren't robbing a bank of innocent peoples money."

Tim sniffles and looks up from his tablet, "The bank robs us. Who knows how they use our hard earned money? I say we rob them back!" Damian and Jason shout in agreement, the second eldest mentioning going to grab his mask but is quickly interrupted by Richard telling him to get his ass back on the couch-"Get your ass back on the couch! Have you three always been this...this insane? I think I'm beginning to see how Bruce feels." Jason snorts, "Yeah. You're ruining my fun already, old man." A gasp escapes from Richard's lips at the unnecessarily cruel words, he is not old!

"I know how to have fun! I told you I made a list of things to do that are fun AND keep us out of harms way until dad comes back so we don't have to care about it anymore."

Damian rolls his eyes, "Fine then. Let's read this list of yours." The boy reaches for the paper and automatically sighs at the things written down on it, "Really? Play hide and seek, make popcorn and watch movies, go on a shopping spree, go to an amusement park, tell scary stories-" Damian stops there and waves the list around-"What are we, five and out on a campout? This list is so juvenile, so immature and childish and I..." The look on Richard's face makes Damian trail off for a moment, the man looks so pitiful and hopeful at the same time. "I think...it sounds just fine all things considered. Father...father did tell me to listen to you."

Richard smiles big and hugs onto Damian while shouting thank you, rambling on and on about what they could add to the list, not noticing his baby brother sending threatening glares Tim-and especially-Jason's way. Dread is what the older two boys feel when Damian suddenly smiles and grabs the list from Richard's hands, an evil cackles escaping his lips as he starts writing stuff down. "You know...maybe we can enjoy this moment? I think we should add a water balloon fight to the list."

That look the younger is wearing on his face lets Jason and Tim know that from here on out, this means war.

(If anyone that reads this also has read my Damian Gremlin Wayne and His Even More Gremlin-esque Family, thank you first and foremost! But I know I still have other parts I need to write for that, but while sitting in bed I had this idea out of nowhere 😂. I might write them doing each of the things on the list, literally! Them doing each one until Bruce comes back home lol.

Don't blame Richard for the things on the list! He has never had siblings to start out with, let alone so many at one time XD. Though...maybe I'm biased? Cause those are things I'd have fun doing with my own siblings 😂. We literally put on a puppet show when the electricity went out once and were entertained, and in my happy/crack BatFam universe, Richard is the sibling that has silly little ideas like that (and makes it fun! Thank you very much.) I might also show the kids going a bit insane while Bruce is away, cause I know I'm not the only one that feels restless when my parents are gone for a certain amount of time....right? 😭😭😭

And please don't ask me why I title my stories in such a way, cause I don't have a proper answer for that other than I find it funny 😂. Also, I wish I had the money to commission a picture of the BatBoys (actually in civilian persona) in a holding cell with another picture of Bruce looking a mix of tired, stressed and worried as he gets a call that they have to head home already XD. I can hear Bruce now, "Alfred! Tell the pilot to turn around! The boys are in jail already!"

I love talking to y'all too much, these notes are always longer than expected or needed XD. But I appreciate you all for stopping by, and don't be scared to leave me a comment (you don't have to though. Stopping by to read is enough!) No matter what it is! As you can tell by these notes, I have no issue with speaking 😂, anywho! You darlings please stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛)

52 notes · View notes

the-batblog · 7 months ago

Text

You ever stood in front of Superman?

Not like when he's moving, or when he's saving people, but just standing there. Have you ever been in his presence? Have you ever experienced his company?

At first, there's this sense of awe. It's Superman, after all. The Man of Steel. And he's taller than anyone you've ever met, and he's built like a truck, and you just watched him punch a giant robot so hard it broke the windows of the high-rise he was next to.

But then… then your lizard brain kicks in.

And it tells you to be very afraid.

You don't know what it is at first. It takes a long time to figure it out, to see what's so wrong, what's making your hairs stand on end and your skin crawl and your spine tingle.

For one thing, he's not breathing.

He's been standing in front of you for two minutes now, listening to emergency personnel, checking up on some of the other victims of this week's mishap, and it isn't until he gets to you and opens his mouth that you realize. That it finally clicks. That you notice, unless he's talking, his chest doesn't move.

"How's your head?"

Three little words, and it's amazing how hard it makes you want to flinch. Again, why? You tell him you're fine, because the EMTs already looked you over, and then he stops looking you in the eyes for just a moment. Because he's not looking at you. He's looking in you.

He's looking at your skull. At your brain. At all the blood vessels in your head. He's not looking at you, he's looking at your meatsack, at the flesh and bone of your insides, as if they were open to the air. You're as good as dissected in that moment. He can look at everything in you, and the thought that you may as well be naked is the least intrusive thing going through your head. Because you gotta wonder how he's so calm about seeing everything that should be hidden on the inside, as if it were spread out in front of him. You gotta wonder what that does to a person's mind, seeing that.

When he meets your gaze again, it strikes you how damned blue his eyes are. They don't look real. They don't even look like color contacts. They just look CG, even though he's standing right in front of you, even though you can feel the heat coming off of his body.

"Drink plenty of fluids when you get home."

You catch it that time. As he walks away, you figure it out; what's so wrong about his voice. It's quiet, and it's polite, and his tone is only gently authoritative, but it. Booms. There's something like a ten foot drum under his words, and the air itself shivers when he talks. It must be his strength. It doesn't matter how quiet he is when his muscles are all so unbelievably strong. When his lungs and throat work under the same power as those window-shattering punches.

And then the fourth thing that sets your teeth on edge. He walks like he doesn't weight a damned thing.

He's big, he's huge, and you've seen semi trucks wrap their bumpers around him on TV and he didn't even twitch, but every step he takes is completely devoid of substance. Of consequences. He's pretending to walk, moving his legs and body in all the right ways, but nothing squishes his heels or pulls against him when he lifts his leg. It's like he's not real. Like he's a video of a person superimposed into the world.

Superman's amazing, of course. He saves so many people and he's really truly so nice. He's probably got a lot going on, but he makes time for the whole world. But standing in front of him… it's deeply disturbing. How does anyone look at him and decide to fight him?

I love Superman and I'm thankful for everything he does. But I never want to see him in-person again.

#Superman #Clark Kent #DC #Superman is terrifying #mild horror #unreality #🦇#pov you're from Metropolis and you thought seeing Big Blue was gonna be rad and it WASN'T #there are so many tiny consequences to his strength and alien-ness that we overlook #which is kind of a shame #Superman is an Eldrich horror

23 notes · View notes

try-set-me-on-fire · 1 year ago

Note

Feeling very intrigued about "love is shaped like cities burning"

Aka proposal fic! Named from this song, but I’m thinking I might change the name eventually. @rewritetheending @alyxmastershipper @butchdiaz and @anxieteandbiscuits tagged me for Fuck It Friday, so here is one of the first scenes I ever wrote in this fandom, though it takes place later in the fic (the morning after he’s finally told Maddie he’s getting married, with plans to tell everyone else that weekend)

Buck wakes up with a leg cramp and his toes turning pale and blue.

He can hear Eddie out in the kitchen with Christopher, eating breakfast and getting ready for school, so he lets himself have a private little cry. His eyes are dry and his breathing is steady by the time Eddie sticks his head in to see if Buck is awake. “Morning, sunshine,” he teases, happy and smiling. God. Buck takes another steady breath. “I’m gonna drop Chris off and then I don’t have to be at the station until tonight, so I thought we could go get lunch at that-“

“Eddie,” Buck says calmly. “After you drop Chris off I think you have to take me to the emergency room.”

There is a flurry of activity after this statement.

Eddie wants to take him now, Buck says he can wait (last time it took a few days for a clot to reach his lungs, it’s fine, it’s fine), Eddie examines Buck’s leg and finds a big red bruise-like splotch on his calf, Eddie calls Chim, Eddie calls Carla, Eddie says he’s going to take Buck now, Carla gets there first, and Chris tries to throw a mutiny.

“I want to go with Buck,” he demands, wedging himself into a corner of the kitchen and bracing a crutch against the opposite countertop to make himself immovable. Buck can just see the showdown from where he’s scooted over in bed. Eddie stands hovering in the door way, one hand extended towards Buck in a “stay the fuck down, please” gesture, and one reaching toward his son with a more placating movement.

“It’s alright,” Buck calls, “I’m okay, Chris, really, I’m okay. I just gotta go to the doctors to… make sure something doesn’t become a problem. But it’s not a problem yet! You can go to school, your dad’s gonna take real good care of me and I’ll see you tonight!”

Chris looks like he’s not going to let it go when Chim walks in. He leans against the counter next to the kid, casual and calm as anything. “Hey bud. Aren’t you gonna be late?” Chris glares and Chim throws up his hands. “Hey, hey! I know you’re worried. How about you come with me and we check Buck out before you go?”

So Buck gets examined a second time. Chim looks at his purple-y foot, wrinkling his nose which makes Chris laugh a little despite himself. He shows Chris the spot on the back of Buck’s leg, holds Chris’s hand over it to feel the heat it radiates. Eddie stands watching with his arms crossed until Buck reaches out a hand. Eddie takes it and sits next to him on the bed as Chim and Chris finish their examination.

“Alright. It’s good Buck was watching out! Now we can take him to get the medicine he needs to take care of this.”

“Do you have to have a surgery?" His voice is so quiet, so much younger than he is in this moment of fear, it twists right up in Buck's insides. "Do you have to stay there again?”

“No, Superman,” Buck says, ignoring Eddie’s protesting hand on his shoulder as he sits up a little and pulls Chris into a hug. “Just some regular medicine. I’ll go to the doctors for a few hours and see you tonight, like I said.”

Chris looks to Chimney for confirmation, and then man nods with a reassuring smile. “He’s gonna be just fine.”

Chris is still as he thinks it over before he finally nods into Buck’s shoulder. “I love you, Buck. I’ll see you later.”

Buck takes another deep breath so he doesn’t tear up and freak the kid out again. “Love you- I love you too. Learn a lot so you can tell me all about it.”

"I'm glad you called," Chimney says quietly, hand on Buck's knee in the car on the way to the hospital. They're both sitting in the back seat, and Eddie's shoulders are set in a stiff, unhappy line in the front of the car. "It could have been- it would have been bad if you'd thrown another clot, Buck. Your lungs… you've been through a lot. I don't know what it would have done to you." He smiles a little, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Our Buckaroo, all grown up and telling people about his problems before they nearly kill him. We should throw a party."

"Oh, perfect," Buck says, jostling his knee a little to bounce Chim's hand around. "Needed a place to cough up some blood."

Chimney coughs out a laugh and shakes his head. "You little shit."

"Ah, you love me." I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

Chim squeezes his knee.

When they arrive he only sticks around long enough for Buck to get a bed. “Gotta go reassure your sister you haven’t spontaneously combusted somehow,” he says, grinning, though he hugs Buck a little tighter than usual.

And then they just gotta wait. It's a blood clot, of course it is, but clearly nothing's broken off yet and become anything worse so he just needs some anticoagulants and a few hours of observation. There’s an IV drip in Buck’s arm, a nurse comes by every hour or so to check on his progress, but mostly they’re just stuck there in a dim little curtained room.

“Sorry,” Buck sighs. “It would have been nice to get lunch.”

“You’re his father, too.” Eddie is holding Buck’s hand tight and staring at one of the curtains.

“Huh?” Buck says, elegantly.

“You said ‘Your dads gonna take care of me.’ You’re his dad too.”

Buck stares at him. “Look at me.” He always wants Eddie to look at him. Maybe he can put that in the nuptials, somehow. Keep your eyes on me, as long as we both shall live.

Eddie looks at him. “What? I already put you in the will, Buck, years ago.”

“But-“

“But what? You love him. You would do anything for him. You’re a part of our family. You’re his dad.” He says it like it’s simple and obvious and inarguable, like there is a Buck shaped hole in the world for him to slot perfectly into. "So don't… make yourself less. You don't have to make yourself smaller to fit anyplace." Eddie's gaze drifts again, like it's easier to say these things that are rattling Buck's bones around like Yahtzee dice if he's not making eye contact. "I like the space you take up. You can have as much as you want. I'd give you all of it."

"Look at me!" Buck is sure he sounds a little crazy and it's because he feels a little crazy. Eddie turns his head, startled, and huffs out a laugh at whatever he sees.

"What, Buck?" He asks it with his eyebrows crooked and a little smile on his face, and it's so nice to see after how worried he'd looked all day that Buck breaks out into a grin, which makes Eddie laugh again. "You're very weird."

"Well, you already said you'd marry me so you can't take that back."

"I wouldn't," Eddie says, so soft and fond and reassuring, smile lighting up his eyes. He tilts his head down and Buck claps his hands on his cheeks to pull his line of sight back up, and Eddie laughs so hard it shakes Buck's arms. "Okay, okay, oh my god!" He scoots his chair to face the bed. "I'm right here. I'm looking at you."

Buck’s mind feels like its going 100 miles an hour. "We have to get safety razors or he’ll be all patchy.”

Eddie looks baffled, which Buck really relates to. “What conversation are we having?”

“I don’t know!” Buck throws his hands in the air before quickly grabbing Eddie’s face again. Eddie purses his lips in a desperate attempt to not crack up again. “I just became a father! I have to teach him how to shave! And I was real bad at that at first! Cuts everywhere and I never got it all, there was always weirdly long hairs leftover and we can’t let Chris go out looking that dumb.”

“Okay,” Eddie nods earnestly, like anything that Buck has ever said is reasonable. “We’ll get safety razors, and I won’t stop looking at you.”

They stay like that until the next nurse check in, and though Buck has to move his arms Eddie never breaks eye contact.

#wip #fuck it Friday #proposal fic #tag games

81 notes · View notes

bat-in-the-machine · 3 months ago

Text

You know what I did not expect to be writing when I sat down to work on a Maribat fic? Several paragraphs of Clark and Kara bonding over Kara's trauma. You know what I wrote tonight?

Supergirl sighed and took a sip of her root beer float. Kal was right, it really was a fantastic float. After a moment, she looked over at him, looking more vulnerable than she had the first time she realized that he was the little baby she'd been sent to protect all those years ago, when she told him she felt like a complete failure. "You know how I said I kind of sort of have a maybe girlfriend?" "Mm," Kal said. "Bruce's new kid, right? The one you were dancing with at the gala?" "Someone tried to assassinate her today." "What?!" Superman dropped his drink, then quickly flew down to catch it. "Well, my goodness, Kara, why didn't you head down to Gotham as soon as we finished up here?" "I will," she said. "I will. I just... I need to calm my nerves first. Plus, she's still dealing with the investigation right now, I'm listening in. We were going to go out flying tonight, but now, even if I showed up in uniform with half the Justice League with me, I doubt Batman would let her out of the house without a security detail. Not until they catch whoever's behind it." Superman grimaced. "You're not wrong," he said. "I'll see what I can do to help. I may not be the World's Greatest Detective, but I do all right." Kara let out a choking sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "You do," she said. "You know... I never really talk about your parents, but they would have been so proud of you, Kal-El." "I try to do Ma and Pa proud," he said, shrugging. "I'm not talking about the Kents," Kara said. "I know," he replied, "but they are my parents, at least as much as Jor-El and Lara." "That's..." Kara grinned. "That's so human of you. It's one of the best things about this world we were sent to. None of the 'Noble House of El' stuff. Rao, by the time I got here, I was so terrified of failing Jor-El and Lara, especially Lara. And here you were, all grown up, wearing the crest of the House of El and being every bit the idealist Lara was and even more steadfast than Jor-El. If that's the influence of Jonathan and Martha Kent, then I understand why you're so proud of your Earth name." She sighed. "Don't get me wrong, I love Eliza and Jeremiah, but I still... I don't know. When I think 'parents' I think of Zor-El and Alura and all of their expectations. The Danvers are like... the cool aunt and uncle. They let me stay up past sunset, even!" "I thought I was the cool uncle," Kal said with a grin. "Also, your parents made you go to bed at sunset?" "You're my baby cousin and don't you forget it," Kara said, returning the grin. "And no, not really, I just... they were very strict. I was thirteen when they put me in that pod and sent me after you, and they put the weight of the world on my shoulders. You, at least, got to choose to shoulder that weight. I got here, and you were all grown up without me and I was already a failure before I even started." "Hey," Kal - no, Clark - said. "You're not a failure. Kara, you're not. You're an incredible woman, and I am proud to call you family." He slapped his thighs and shifted from his floating/sitting position to a standing one, as though he were standing up from her bedside. "That's it," he said. "We're heading to Gotham. I want to meet this young woman you're 'kind of sort of' dating, and see if she's good enough for my favorite babysitter."

#miraculous world tour: gotham #supergirl #superman #also marinette but she's just being talked about #not in the scene #IDK what age Kara was in canon when she was sent to Earth but I think it was like 10?#In this fic she was 13 because that's how old Marinette was when she got the Miraculous

7 notes · View notes

greenlantern94to04 · 1 year ago

Text

Those Weird Hal Jordan Comics Between "Reign of the Supermen" and "Emerald Twilight"

I've always been fascinated by that brief, strange period in Green Lantern and Justice League comics between Coast City's destruction and Hal Jordan's heel turn, also known as "The Sling Era" (known by me, I just came up with it). The way Hal was handling the death of his 7 million bestest friends varied wildly from issue to issue, almost as if the writers were trying to tell us that he was already having a psychotic breakdown.

Of course, we all know that Hal only behaved that way because DC had no clue what they were gonna do with the character until they went and did it, but it's still kinda fun to look back at that period and search for hints that couldn't possibly be there. So let's do that:

Justice League International #56-57 (October 1993)

These issues came out on the same month as Green Lantern #46 (the Hal vs. Mongul issue) and clearly take place before Coast City went boom, since Hal isn't wearing the sling on his arm yet. I'm including them here anyway because of this telling exchange between Hal and Power Girl, who'd recently found out she was pregnant. For context, Hal and PG had gotten pretty close while they were both in the JLI... but not as close as Hal would have liked:

Maybe it wasn't Coast City's destruction what drove Hal mad -- it was the thought of Aquaman getting into his "girlfriend's" pants before him. (It turned out PG had been magically impregnated by Atlantean wizards, so at least Hal was in the right ballpark.)

JLI #57 includes this amusing moment after Metamorpho says the League won't be the same without Elongated Man and his wife Sue:

Haha, yeah, a member of the JLI turning evil... can you imagine?

Green Lantern #47 (November 1993)

This Green Arrow team-up is pretty much a filler issue with a couple of references to Coast City's destruction thrown in. No one seems that distraught about the fact that their city just exploded. For the most part, you wouldn't know this was a post-"Reign of the Supermen" issue if Hal wasn't wearing that sling on his arm.

Hal and Oliver Queen get caught up in a dumb plot involving Hal's ex, Carol Ferris, his pal Tom "Pieface" Kalmaku, and robot doubles of Carol's dead dad created by her mom due to her "nervous problems." The most intriguing part is Ollie telling Hal "I'm seeing something in your eyes that I never saw there before." (Spoilers: it's murder.)

Later, Hal gives a speech about finally moving on from Carol and "letting go of the past" (so, the opposite of what he's about to do). He also implies that he's gonna be pursuing another of his love interests, Olivia Reynolds, who's trying to get financing for a GL toy line.

The issue ends with Olivia noticing that one of her Green Lantern action figures "lost his head." That's probably the only intentional foreshadowing for "Emerald Twilight" in these issues, but it could just as easily be a tease for another dumb plot that never happened because they switched writers after this issue.

Superman #83 (November 1993)

As mentioned when I covered this issue at the Superman '86 to '99 blog, Hal is in a pretty dark mood here. When Lex Luthor Jr. shows up uninvited to the superheroes' "funeral" for Coast City, Hal bluntly says "This is a private affair. Get rid of him." Then, when Lex says they could salvage some alien tech from Engine City, Hal insists that they just "let it die."

Aquaman (there's that jerk again) takes issue with Hal's idea of dumping a city-sized engine into the ocean. Superman tries to calm everyone down, but Hal snaps and says: "I'm tired of talking! (...) My friends are buried under this junk heap and I'm not about to let it stand as their tombstone!" Later, after Engine City has been safely disposed of and Superman has erected the monument to the dead, there's an exchange between Hal and Ollie that's more meaningful than anything in Green Lantern #47:

Okay, "Can't win 'em all!" isn't the most sensitive way to talk about genocide, but you have to admit it's in-character.

Justice League International #59-60 (December 1993-January 1994)

Hal skipped JLI #58, and the next two issues are mostly set in an alternate timeline caused by a time-traveler who undid the origins of several superheroes, including Hal himself. Conveniently, this means that these issues don't have to deal with our Hal's mental state. In the alternate timeline, Guy Gardner is the heroic Green Lantern while Hal is his biggest fan. Once they figure out the truth, Guy decides to use the ring to go back in time and fix the timeline but Hal tries to stop him, because he knows Heroic Guy will turn into Guy Guy in the corrected reality.

Pretty ironic that Hal didn't want to restore the timeline because he was afraid of Guy losing his "sanity," and then he was the one who went insane (while Guy entered what's probably his most heroic period). Good Guy ultimately sacrifices himself for the greater good, making Hal think: "If this does turn me into Green Lantern... I can only pray that I'll have half the courage and nobility of Guy Gardner!"

Once Hal's memory is restored, they ask him if he can use the ring to travel to the 70th century and stop the villain from creating this whole mess in the first place, but he says he'd "need the whole Green Lantern Corps to do that!" So Hal thinks that if he had the power of every GL, he could change the course of history? Interesting.

Justice League America #83 (December 1993)

Hal is wearing the sling in this issue, so it's definitely set after Coast City's destruction, but he's perfectly calm and seems more concerned with regular League business than reshaping the universe. Maybe he's just trying to bury himself in work?

Valor #14 (December 1993)

Another Sling Era issue. Valor asks some Justice Leaguers if by any chance they know any cures to lead poisoning, which he's currently dying of. Hal says "I wish to God I could help... but there are limits to what my power ring can do." But... maybe there shouldn't be?!

Bloodbath #1-2 (December 1993)

A sling-wearing Hal shows up in the two-part finale of the regrettable "Bloodlines" crossover, though the sling is missing in some panels (perhaps he was already getting better). The only noteworthy interactions here are: 1) Deathstroke telling Hal "Remember that I'm one of the good guys today," 2) Hal referring to the Guardians of the Universe as "control freaks," and 3) Hal telling Superman not to beat himself up because he wasn't around to stop the alien invasion of Metropolis (he was dead at the time). This last scene is by far the best part of the issue, because of a typo when Superman is supposed to say "Poor Metropolis":

Geez, what are they feeding those cows down there?

Eclipso #15-16 (January-February 1994)

Sling Hal and other superheroes (plus Lex Jr., for some reason) talk in the United Nations about the menace of Eclipso, who at the time was president of a small country and had access to nuclear weapons. Then Eclipso shows up and beats them all in two panels, literally.

Hal's only role in Eclipso #16 is as an unconscious body on the floor of the UN. I think I'd also go crazy from the humiliation.

Justice League International #61 (February 1994)

And finally, Hal's last appearance as a member of the JLI consisted of him saying he wished he could help, but he has "pressing business as a Green Lantern!" That pressing business turned out to be crying on a crater and then... well, we'll see that soon enough.

I agree with whoever that guy is: Hal's "I'll be in touch soon" DOES sound pretty ominous. Note that this issue takes place directly after the end of JLI #60 (Hal must have put on the sling between panels). This means that the last thing Hal Jordan did before the start of "Emerald Twilight" was traveling to the far future to stop a supervillain from reshaping history. Wonder if that gave him any ideas...

NEXT: "Emerald Twilight"! And the guy this blog is supposed to be about finally shows up!

#green lantern #hal jordan #justice league #power girl #aquaman #coast city #green arrow #oliver queen #carol ferris #tom kalmaku #olivia reynolds #guy gardner #valor #superman #eclipso #cucked by aquaman #aquacucked #that guy #dc comics

43 notes · View notes

jwnchstr · 2 years ago

Text

waiting for superman | m.s47

title: waiting for superman part 1

characters: you/reader/catherine, mick schumacher

summary: when your father (a former ferrari mechanic) was diagnosed with alzheimer's, your world turns upside down. you had to give up your city life, get back to your village to take care of your father. but what hurts the most is being so close to him and seeing him not remember you (catherine) as well as every precious moment in his life with you. you start to questions about everything until mick schumacher (your childhood best friend) comes back into your life and teaches you life lessons that you're sure will remember forever.

other f1 fics | masterlist | my wattpad

waiting for superman part 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

working is stressful enough. and driving 30 minutes just to get home can make you feel like killing yourself. those traffics. people breaking for no reason. people driving above speed limit as if they're in a drift competition. but oh well, except for today.

you decided to take a longer route home today even if that means you will be spending extra 10 minutes on the road to reach home. but with your current life, you know needed those 10 minutes because it's literally the only time that you have for yourself. accompanied by nothing but the hum of your tyres and the sound of the car engine. that little white noise somehow makes you calm than the sound of the ocean meeting the shore.

there were a lot of things you are thinking right now but for once, it's not about money. you have some savings enough for the next four months (you've been saving up since your first year at an engineering company in the city centre). so even though you're now only working as a barista, you don't worry about money much. and with your father's condition, the financial assisstant given by the government are quite enough for his medication and to pay for his caretaker.

in the car, your mind takes you back when you were little. how you were always in your father's shadow. despite being a girl, you would always be seen with bolts and nuts, spanners, hammers, car spare parts in your hands. oil and grease on your face. instead of playing with dolls, you'd play with karts, toy cars, nerf guns, video games. the amount of time you spent with your father's colleagues in the hotels. you would follow everywhere your father goes. you would often be seen at the ferrari's garage, surrounded with ferrari engineers and mechanics, asking them this and that. watching them like you're the boss.

but the clouds aren't always clear. things would always crumbling down while you're at the highest of high. it's like the god is calling you and to humble you down. after getting a phone call from your neighbour who told you that your father was always found at the police station, they suggested you to get your father diagnosed. he has alzheimer's disease for a year now and it's not getting any better. if anything, it gets worse and fast deteroriate.

because yesterday specifically, he didn't remember who you are. he didn't remember your name. he wasn't sure why you were in his house. he even called his mom (who died many years ago) and kicked you out of the house. you know your neighbours saw what happened. you just hope they didn't get the wrong idea about your family because you know your father will not kick you out of his house if he didn't lost his mind. good thing annie the caretaker lives with you. she sedated your father. when everything's calmed, you locked yourself in your room and cried.

yesterday was not the first night you cried since your father was diagnosed. but it was the most painful yet. to witness your father calling his mother who was dead for years. to see an unknowing look when he sees your face. your name didn't give him a clue of who you are. he said something about calling andrea. and you know who andrea and that's where you know you're fucked. because both you and you father hate your mum.

all of the times you spent together with him got deleted from his memory just like that. you remember when you were younger. you used to get mad at your father for not giving you enough attention but if you knew your father was going to get alzheimer's and that he won't remember you ever, you wouldn't beg your father for attention.

so what now? you can't just make a conversation with him now. you can't get straight to your point because every time you will try tell him something exciting, you will have to tell him from the start. from before the news. the concert your favourite is going to make. your plan on seeing them. when the ticket purchasing is open and you got yourself the very expensive one (the package includes meet and greet with the band backstage before concert, a handful of merchandise that include lanyard, rainbow light stick, bracelet, photo album from the first few concerts, free drinks.) the songs list. though at one point, you stop talking.

"nevermind. you won't remember it at all," you'd tell your father.

"i'm sorry."

"it's okay."

no. it's never okay. because he used to remember things that you like, love and hate the most. he remembered things that made you cry and laugh. he knew the bad jokes just to put a smile on your face. both of you used to say bad things about your mum and laughed about it. now he talks about her.

and he definitely hates you now. you know it's his routine to go out at 11 in the morning to meet his friends somewhere in the neighbourhood. he would usually be back home by lunch time. he would walk home since most of his friends are also too old to drive. but after a few times being found by the police and your neighbour had to fetch him at the police station, he's banned to leave the house without a partner even if he's not meeting his friends. annie will usually tidy and clean the house in the morning and you work in the morning until five. like a teenager, he's in a rebellion phase where he doesn't want to talk to you though he's still being friendly with annie.

you're lost. you don't know what to do. you tried asking the doctors some advice. you tried asking a community for a solution. you tried inviting his friends over to your house instead but at the end of the day, your father still wants to go out during the time that neither you nor annie were available. it hurts you everywhere realising that you lost your lovely father.

you feel your eyes sting. they water a little bit before you blink them away. but it's not like you to cry on a daylight. so you sit in your car as you drive within speed limit, head hurts from holding back your tears. the traffic is as normally heavy today but you're not stuck. you enjoy every second of the drive until a big dog crosses the road. you to slam your break. your tyres screech.

luckily you were already inside a rich neighbourhood. the familiar, quiet and deserted neighbourhood where there are less cars, more trees, big and well-maintained park. you rarely come here unless you're visiting one of two of your rich friends. shocked, the dog doesn't move. he stays in front of your car in the middle of the road, crying for his mistake. you pull your handbreak and press the hazard light button before you leave your car to check up on the dog.

"hey, buddy."

the dog whines. he watches as you approach him, gives you his best puppy dog eyes so that you would not be angry at him and help him instead. he belongs to someone because there's a collar around his neck though without a name and a phone number. smoothing your fingers through the dog's fur, you help him calm down.

"oh, thank god, you're okay," you'd say. "are you supposed to be here, little buddy? where did you come from, huh? where's your human?"

the dog whimpers while you continue to caress his neck, his back, his head. you can feel him shaking uncontrollably under your palms. instantly, you feel bad for him even though it's not your fault to make him scared in the first place.

"augustine!" comes a male voice from over the dog's shoulder. "augustine. oh thank god! there you are! you got me worried sick about you!"

every problem you had about your life was gone when you see the dog and when you had to hit the break paddle but now as the familiar blonde-haired man with blue eyes is in front of you, you feel your heart explodes. something caught in your throat. your blood withdrawn from your face. you feel like your world is crashing down and rebuilding with a new kind of good problem. out of the many places and times, why must you see mick schumacher now?

mick was your childhood bestfriends. since he's inseparable with his sister gina and since your age is not so different with her, you're best friends with her too. and being bestfriends with the siblings is like being the third child to their parents corinna and michael. so they know you. you know them. your father is a friend of michael and he was one of the few people that was allowed to see michael when he got into that tragic accident. things changed when mick got so busy with his formula siries career and you're busy studying to be an engineer. it's been years since you last saw him. well, until today.

mick, who has yet to notice you there, lets out a long sigh. you watch him as he puts his attention on dog---augustine. he kneels in front of augustine, checking his body for cuts and bloods. when there's nothing serious, he sighs one more time. relieved, his shoulders relaxed.

"augustine... what did i tell you about running off the street?"

the dog shoves his muzzle into the male's underarm, hiding his face and continues to whimper. it's as if he is apologising to mick that he's being reckless and maybe promise not to do it again.

"you could've been killed, do you know that?"

mick looks up at you now after feeling like it's enough to scold augustine. plus, they're still in the middle of one side of the road. and his reaction mirrors you when you first found out that it's mick in front of you.

"catherine?"

"hi, mick."

you smile. you feel like being a high school girl again for having your crush looking right at you. he is exactly the kind of prince charming most girls used to dream of when they were children. only you have had met your prince charming ever since you were little.

mick's eyes studies your face that he hasn't seen in a few years. "h--- hi."

things get awkward. you didn't know what else to say. you keep smiling.

"i'm--- uhh--- i'm sorry about augustine," mick stutters a little. "we were just playing freebies. at the park. and then she thought we lost the freebies so she went hunting for it."

so agustine is a she.

"don't worry about it." you wave a hand. "what's important is that she's fine, isn't she."

"a bit traumatised, i bet. but other than that, she's fine, yeah." mick smiles at you even though his eyes are on augustine who is sitting like a good dog near his leg.

a short silence falls between you and mick again until mick feels augustine nudges his leg.

"i--- i should get going."

get going? five minutes ago you're sure you felt like running away when you saw mick. in face, you didn't want to meet anyone you knew who lives in this street because you hate telling stories about your father. the shock in their faces. the simpathy. they send condolences but they never meet their hearts. because none of them never experienced what you're experiencing now. but when mick stands up, pets his dog to follow, turns around towards the direction they came, you feel like stopping them. because when interacting with them you weren't thinking about your problems for once. it feels fresh.

but despite that, you didn't have the courage to call mick even though you were his childhood bestfriends. even though you grew up in the same village. even though both of you used to play with dirts together at the horse barn at your neighbour's. all of your learned how to ride a horse together with your neighbour's kids but only gina turned out to make it a career. how he would follow you and your father hunting in the woods. you were there when he decided to be serious with karting. you would reconsider to do it if you still had that dream job, one where you and mick weren't having that huge gap in terms of your career. but it's different now. mick is a succesful formula one driver and you're just a barista. it sounds crazy if he wants to go out with you.

but you haven't seen him for years! you could kill yourself if you didn't go out with mick for at least once in your youth. to see how he is like as a someone closer than just a friend. if it didn't work out, it's okay, you think. you can still be friends with him like he is friends with justine. so you open your mouth to call mick. you were glad nothing came out because before you could find your voice, mick stops on the road divider. augustine follows just as when he stops. he turns around and approaches you once again.

"sorry." he chuckles nervously. "i know this sounds a bit crazy but i'm free for the rest of the day today. and i was wondering if... if you'd like to have some coffee with me."

you heart blossoms. "i would if you don't mind me driving for you."

you definitely didn't plan to say that though. it's just that your car is kind of brand new so it's hard to put a trust on somebody else to drive your car even though he is an f1 driver.

mick chuckles. "i don't. new car?"

"kind of," you answer as mick inspects your car. the tyres. the sportrim. the skirting. the tinted windows. the custom colour of your car. "it's two years old though but it till feels like it's new."

mick is definitely in love with your car.

"look at how shiny your car is."

mick rounds your car, pushes augustine into the back of your car and apologises when augutine's legs cause a dirts on your seats. though you wish you brought old towel or newpapers, but you dismiss mick and drives him back to the park (though you have make to u-turn) for him to collect his belongings that he left when chasing after augustine. good thing nothing was stolen.

you ended up settling down at a coffee shop in the city centre with mick beside you and augustine comfortably lying on her stomach by mick's foot. you recognise this particular coffee shop because a year ago you were one of their regular customers to get coffee first thing in the morning before work. their coffee never felt expensive to you.

until now...

"the fact that we haven't seen each other for years, i feel like i should introduce myself," mick jokes.

"we just haven't seen each other, mick. we're not strangers."

mick laughs. "how have you been doing?"

to be honest, you don't know how to answer mick's question. well, how do you answer when a year and a half ago, you learned that your father has alzheimer's disease. and then you have to resign from your old company, say goodbye to your dreams, pack your bags and return home. you weren't ready for what comes next. nobody from your circle told you what to expect when your father has alzheimer's. so when he starts to forget about you, it hurts so bad.

"i'm... good."

"the delay doesn't sound good."

"i don't have anything else to say."

mick stares at you for a few seconds. it feels like he is reading your mind. it feels as if he already knew what happened to your father but didn't want to feel like he knows everything so he keeps quiet. you're damn sure he is waiting for you to tell him but the question is, are you ready? even if he already knew about your family?

didn't feel comfortable, you gulp and look away before returning your gaze to him.

"enough about me. how about you? how are you doing? how's your career?"

mick doesn't look pleased with the question. he presses his lips together. as trained, he answers "there are many ups and downs with the teams. didn't manage to finish last race but we're looking forward to the next race and definitely we will work harder."

"seriously? you're using that voice with me?"

"what voice?"

"your working voice," you state. "when you're answering interviews. you have this kind of voice. and that staged answers--- i know you memorise them. come on. tell me something i don't know."

mick wonders and he wonders a lot. and you definitely didn't know what you don't know and mick decides to wait and see if he's right.

"well, seb is visiting us next week."

"really?"

your face lights up hearing sebastian vettel's name as you're close to him too. his kids are a bundle joy. though you only meet them when he's visiting mick but they remember you and that's what matters. having a father who was once a part of the motorsport team gave you a lot of advantages and experiences a normal girl didn't have.

your father was michael's mechanic at ferrari. and michael was close to him at home but closer since they spent so much time together around the globe. and michael was close to sebastian so that makes your father closed with sebastian. and you too. at some point, all of you are connected.

you thought of bringing your father to see sebastian at mick's house but your face falls as soon as you remember that your father isn't going to remember who sebastian is despite being close. those times he and michael spent with sebastian in the red bull garage after both of them retired. those times they spent together watching junior drivers in their go-kart, standing outside of the go-kart circuit with hands behind their backs, judging other people's kids. your father isn't going to remember them all.

"hey, what's with the sour face?"

you give mick a small smile. "nothing. i probably should head home."

"but we just like here like... three minutes ago."

"i--- i just feel like to be alone. i'm sorry, mick."

"o--- okay."

mick gathers his belongings and you gather yours. he pulls augustine up by the leash and minutes later, all three of you are inside your car again and on your way home.

mick's house is exactly how you remember it used to be. the same colour. the same gravel road that leads to his house. the same frontyard with a little garden on the left though corinna have few different flowers and trees now. his mother or gina might have traded their old cars but other than those, nothing really changed. as you slowly pull your car in front of the house, you see gina at their front porch, reading while her dog roger is chasing the butterflies away.

"thank you for the coffee. i really appreciate it."

"ah, it's nothing," mick scratches the back of his head absent-mindedly. "i think we should do it again."

"you think?"

"no. we should do it again."

yes. you wanted to do this again even though at first, you didn't think there is "again" especially when you were being hard on mick. close to being rude to him when he was nothing but a sweetheart to you. he even paid for your coffee when normally you would your own meal when you go out with your friends. and even a few guys you dated back then.

you're not sure where this is going. you wished to go out with mick for at least once in your life. but god is giving you another chance with mick so you definitely isn't going to say no. right? wrong! just when you thought you finally found your happiness, a thought about your father crosses your mind. you've been neglecting him for hours now. a part from his rebellion about you not allowing him to go out without supervision, he could be sulking now at home because you've been neglecting him. another reason for him to hate you.

"i don't know, mick."

"you're worried about your father, aren't you?"

this is what mick has been waiting for you tell him about. he's been itching to hear them from your own mouth. he didn't dare to ask you himself in the first place because he knows what it feels like to talk about something you hadn't truly accept. but the reason mick is asking now is because he wants to see you more and he cannot bear the fact that you keep saying no becaue of your father as if he didn't understand your situation.

he understands alright!

your eyes instantly water. "how---how do you know?"

it hurts to see you cry because the catherine he remembers was always laughing. if you're not doing that, you'd be smiling. even if not that, you'd be mischievously smirking at him with gina. both of you were quite pranksters back then. even if you weren't doing any of the above, you were not crying.

"mum told me." mick pauses. "i didn't believe her but last week i found your father at my old karting club with annie. i tried to talk to him but he didn't remember me. and that's when i know."

you wipe your tears on your cheeks.

"is that why you've been distancing yourself from me?"

"no."

mick raises his eyebrows. "are you sure?"

"maybe."

"why else?"

"well, isn't it obvious? that you're always busy and constantly traveling. meanwhile i'm here struggling with double hours and taking care of my father that i barely had time for anything."

"aren't you an engineer?"

"were," you say. "i have to leave them behind, mick. right when my father was officially diagnosed with alzheimer's. i came back home. and i'm now a barista."

you lift up a logo on the left side of your uniform.

"i'm sorry you have to through this, catherine."

"i'm... getting used to it."

"you know what, why don't you come with him when seb comes next week?"

"thanks but he won't remember anything, mick. he doesn't even remember me."

"shit."

mick looks down. mourning. mourning for you and all of your memories you had with your dad.

"but this isn't going to be the last time we ever see each other again, okay? i'll see you tomorrow at your house. i want to see your father. i don't care if he doesn't remember me. i still want to see him."

"no. you don't have to---"

"maybe i'll bring gina along. we'll see." mick smiles. "bye."

you watch as mick opens the back car door and whistles to augustine. as soon as mick and augustine step foot onto their frontyard, roger barks happily at them as if announcing to the people who live there that mick and augustine are back from the park. gina puts down her book and looks up. she smiles brightly as soon as she recognises it's you in the car and waves at you. you wave back, returning home.

when the next day comes, mick didn't tell notify you that he's on his way to your house. good thing you are on your off-day and you just finished having your late breakfast when your door bell rings. your father doesn't move from his seat. he didn't ask you to get the door. it's as if he didn't hear the bell. or maybe he is sulking about yesterday. meanwhile you and annie exchange looks.

"did we expect any visitors today?"

"uh. i think that's mick."

"mick? as in the schumacher?"

you nod your head.

"you didn't tell me he's coming? i didn't prepare anything."

"and i haven't taken my shower," you say. "that's alright. i'll get the door. he's here to see dad."

when you finally open the door, you realise that mick isn't alone. a beaming gina is one step behind mick's shoulder. while mick is wearing a jumper and jeans, gina is wearing a button-up shirt tucked into her trousers and her trousers are tucked into her horse-riding boots. she must be from the barn. as usual.

"were you at the schmidt's the whole morning?"

schmidt is your neighbour. the who one has the horse barn where all three of you---including schmidt's children---used to play together when you were kids. the way all of you used to play like there's no tomorrow. not worrying about pimples and acnes and allergies. while the fathers would be watching over you, drinking coffees (because it's not a good moral to drink alcohol with kids around) and talking. sometimes they'd be working on an old tractor that they know was not going to work but still tried to make it work.

gina chuckles. "do you mind if i use your bathroom. i just finished---"

"yeah, yeah. go ahead. you know where the bathroom is. my turn next."

gina leaves her boots outside, enters your house without any more words, leaving mick in confusion as he watches his older sister making your house like her second house. just like how you did to theirs.

"is she always like that?"

you smile guiltily.

"how come you're still close with her and not with me?"

"i don't know, mick. i guess it's easier when you're always home."

mick doesn't like that sound. he's home as much as he can when there's no race. his manager tries to accept less interviews, appointments, photoshoots to free his schedule and let him home because he understands mick's family situation. and when he's home, he is home. and yet, he never stumbled into you before.

mick enters your house and the sense of familiarity hits him. every precious moment he created with you and the house when he was a little boy hits his memory core. the kitchen where you'd all eat cereal despite it being pass breakfast time. the silly arts on the wall are still there. and then there's the living room where all of you used to watch cartoons. your father travels alot when he was a ferrari mechanic but somehow always manage to reserve this old house foor the sake of the memories. miracle.

then mick sees your father sitting on the single chair, staring into nothing. mick glances at you.

"ever since he... you know... he doesn't like noise. he hates the tv because he says he cannot understand whatever the hell they're saying. though i think he is particularly quiet today is because i was not home early."

"mum says you'd walk with him on your off-day."

"that's true. but in the evening. i--- uh--- i usually woke up late on my off-day."

as if somethng clicks in his mind, mick's eyes catch an abandoned set of bowl and mug on your kitchen island. "you just finished your breakfast, aren't you?"

you sheepishly smile at him. you know mick and his family are early risers. maybe it's in their genes but it's also might be because they're athletes and with their training schedules, diet, mental health they're trained to sleep early to wake up early the next morning.

because it doesn't feel foreign inside your house so without being offered, mick takes a seat in front of your father, you in front of him so you can see the day his blue eyes dilate with hope as he opens his mouth to greet your father.

"good morning, herr erberhardt."

when your father looks at mick, there is the smiliar confusion he has with you. the first time felt like thousands of knives impaling you and though it still hurts to see the same unknown look on his face when he looked at you this morning but since you have accepted it, you stopped feeling sorry for yourself. and it amazes you with how fast you could accept.

"who are you?"

"i'm mick. you know my father michael."

"michael?"

"schumacher?" mick's face falls but he doesn't look hurt that your father didn't recognise him and his father. "you were his best friend and mechanic."

"oh."

mick quickly pulls out his mobile phone. you watch as mick presses some icons for a while until you finally understand what he's doing. he opens his camera roll, picks one picture and shows it to your father. you lean closer to look at the picture. and though mick didn't slightly turn his phone for you, you can see the picture clearly. your father and mick's. both of them are wearing the familiar red t-shirt.

your father definitely have tons of pictures of him at work but not this one. based on the quality, you would know that it's from one of the least photographers who was allowed to enter the paddock back then.

"see. this is him. the one on the right. and this is you. it was both of your last day with ferrari."

you weren't there on your father's last day with ferrari but you remember him coming home with lots of gifts from brasil. and you still have them in a big box in the garage where you keep good ol' stuffs there.

mick continues to tell stories to your father. and it was at this exact moment that you know why you weren't allowed to follow him to brasil because he knew there were having a farewell party and he's going to get drunk and not able to take care of you. maybe it's better to find this out as an adult because otherwise, you wouldn't want to speak to your father again if you found this out when you were little.

it looks like mick doesn't care at all that your father doesn't remember anything that he's telling as your father listens to them without showing any interest at all. mick keeps his composure well and you wonder how he does it until you remember that his father is sick ever since he was 14. when you were 14, you still had your father to help you with a guitar.

gina comes into the living room, smelling like your shower gel and hair shampoo, when mick is telling a story about him and sebastian. and you excuse yourself because it's your turn to take a shower. and you could've missed mick glancing at you if you hadn't turn towards them at the living room.

when it's time for lunch, gina was first to be seated at the dining table, too hungry from her session at schmidt's barn. everyone eats only when everyone is seated at the dining table---including annie---and gina is treating herself as if she's at her family's house. not like you mind though because her presence brings a little joy in the house.

mick on the other hand is embarrassed with his sister's behaviour even though he too is used to having lunches and dinners at your house. but that was several years ago. to be able to do this again feels like he's starting over with you and your family. but maybe with gina there he can get used to this sooner.

everyone is doing their own part at the dining table. one asks questions. one answers the questions. one more person makes fun of the person who asked the question because she likes to make fun of her little brother. the late-30 woman is keeping an eye on an old man who is feeding himself slowly. for a moment, everything looks so perfect at the dining table until the old man stops eating, leaves the dining table and starts hunting for something.

four of you stop eating immediately. everyone wears a worried look on their faces as you watch your father looking around the house for something. he stops in front of the tv where the coffee table sits. he upturns the rattan bowl, rummaging through its content scattering on the table. then he takes out everything inside the sofa remote holder. when he didn't find what he's looking for, he moves towards the tv cabinet.

he opens the tv cabinet, takes out every cd, dvd, book, extension wire, more remote controls and dust. you hear him mumbling something but he still hasn't found it.

"dad, what are you looking for?"

you dad doesn't answer you.

"dad, do you need help?"

"ma! where's my... where's my..."

mick knows you have no one except your father, though when you were little, diana (your nanny) was in the picture and annie came only when your father was diagnosed with alzheimer's. your father's mother died before you even existed. maybe mick's father knew her but not the next generation. now it makes you wonder how far back his memory is deleted from his brain.

but it seems that even by calling for help from his mother, he doesn't know what he's looking for. you get up from your dining table and approaches your dad. you try to tell that it's okay to forget what he's looking for now and that he can try and find it later when he remembers. the house is already a mess like there was a thief here but your father is not giving up.

"dad, why don't you sit down for a minute. i'm sure it'll come back to you if you calm down."

"no. i can't," he says. "it's important."

"why don't you tell me what you're looking for and i'll help find it?"

"i--- i don't remember what i'm looking for but i will know when i find it."

frustrated, your dad starts hitting himself. this is not the first time, though. it has happened a few times before. though it's only been a year since your father was diagnosed but this disease is eating him way faster than the doctors claimed.

while you try to stop him form beating himself (you getting beaten in the process), annie jumps out of her seat to get the seductive in her room while gina plays a soft, melancholy music in the background. once again, mick is left in horror as he watches everything unfolding itself in front of his eyes. what's more surprising is how his sister looks like she knows what she's doing.

mick certainly doesn't know what to do in the situation and how to offer any help. it's hurting him to watch your father hitting himself just because he cannot remember what he's looking for. and seeing you gets beaten... by the time your father calms down, he watches you slumping onto the ground with a loud thud. he sees your eyes wet. you look tired despite the fact that you just had your lunch.

gina helps annie carrying your father to his room while mick approaches you.

"hey. are you okay?"

you feel mick's hand squeezes your hand gently. you hear his voice breaking though you did not understand why. you nod your head to answer mick's question.

"annie and gina already brought him to bed. do you want to take a walk?"

"okay," you answer without actually understanding what mick was asking you.

mick stands up and pulls you up with him. mick helps you put on your jacket and shoes after doing the same for himself. you're still too tired from tending your father to speak and to think so while your mind is empty, you let mick leads you out. you follow wherever mick is taking you, talking hand-in-hand in silent, looking at the greens and blues and yellows. some cars pass by but you don't care.

"i'm sorry you have to see that," you finally speak after 30 minutes of walk.

"your father doesn't bother me," mick says.

you made a sound that you didn't know it was coming from your throat.

"gina did."

"why?"

"i don't know. maybe the fact that gina knows about your father. not me. and the fact that she knows what to do when herr erberhardt starts misbehaving tells me that she knows for awhile now."

"i'm sorry, mick. i just didn't want you to worry about me."

"so you told gina not to tell me?"

you sigh. hate to hear the irritation in mick's voice because you know you're wrong. he is your best friend. if augustine hadn't cross the road yesterday and you hadn't almost hit her, you probably is still not ready to tell mick about your father because you're just insecure with yourself now. you lost your dream job while mick is striving. people can't tell you that you're wrong to feel insecure about that.

mick knows not to want to argue with you especially when you're tired, so he drops the topic. that's okay, he thinks. he can ask you next time he sees you. it not tomorrow or the day after tomorrow, he has next week. because he will be seeing you again next week when sebastian comes to visit him and his family even if you didn't bring your father (he hopes you will) because you're close with sebastian like how he is closed with sebastian. but either way, mick knows that he will want to keep seeing you for as long as he can work this out.

when both of you get back to your house, gina is sitting at the front porch to wait for mick to get back home together. annie is nowhere to be seen but you bet she's inside, cleaning up the house after the hazard.

"don't forget next week, okay? i'll ask mum to cook your favourite cheesecake," mick says while hugging you.

"and tell us if you need anything. you know we're always ready help you whenever you need us."

you nod your head and smile at gina. "thanks."

when the siblings are out of your vision, you turn around where your house is. the house that holds thousands of memories and one who doesn't remember them at all.

part 2

#mick schumacher #ms47 #f1 fanfiction #mick schumcher x reader #mic schumacher x reader #mick schumacher fanfic #haas #mercedes #ferrari #alzheimer's disease #mental illness #michael schumacher #sebastian vettel #sv5

166 notes · View notes

username-was-spoken-for · 2 years ago

Text

Customs💫

@writing2sirvive wrote this on my lunch break so bare with me 😔

I am by no means a professional I just like to type for fun!

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

Wally West x GN! Alien reader

“Will you go out with me?”

And just like that it felt like a weight was lifted off Wally’s shoulders. Even if (Y/N) said no Wally could go to sleep knowing that he finally confessed his feelings to his other worldly teammate.

What he did not expect was for said teammate’s lip to start to quiver and eyes become wet with tears. Oh god what had he done?

“Or we don’t have to i-it’s okay (y/n)” Wally said as he awkwardly tried to comfort the alien while also mending his own broken heart. But that seemed to only upset (y/n) even more as they wailed!

Wally was at a complete loss and didn’t know what to do!

“Hey guess who just got the lates-“ Robin stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the scene in front of him. Wally’s face was red all the way to his hairline, eyes wide and body language just screaming for help. Meanwhile (Y/N) was hiccuping as large tears went down their face. Robin came to the quick conclusion that he did not want to be here right now.

“Yknow what, I’ll just tell you later” and just like that Robin retreated back into the shadows.

A whimper brought Wally back to the matter at hand. Wally went over this scenario a million times and not once did he ever think that (y/n) would react like this. He thought the worst thing (y/n) could say was no!

(Y/N) joined the team a couple of months ago after a run in with the Justice League. (Y/N) was strong and only after a fight with Superman and some coaxing from Wonder Woman did they finally calm down. After they were detained it had turned out that (y/n) was seeking refuge from their own home planet.

Seeing as (Y/N) was a teenager by earth's standards it was decided that they would stay at the cave until further notice. Though everything was new and foreign to (Y/N) they were extremely happy to be on earth!

They were curious and took in earth's customs with open arms! That also included friendships so they warmed up to the team relatively fast. But surprisingly it was Wally who ended up befriending (Y/N) first. No one could explain it but they just seemed to click. The two spent almost all their time together.

Whether it was missions or just lazing around in the cave they were together. So of course after a while Wally realized that his feelings were stronger than friendship. And after months of figuring out those feelings and then finally gaining the courage to act on them, Wally thought that maybe their relationship could go further. Well until this very moment at least.

“I-I’m sorry Wally” (Y/N) whispered as they wiped their eyes.

“No no it’s okay (y/n) I get it if you don’t feel the same” but it did sting.

(Y/N)s shoulders sagged as they looked at Wally with wide eyes.

“But Wally, I do feel the same.”

Wally choked on nothing when those words left (Y/N)s mouth. (Y/N) liked him back that should be a good thing right, right?

“That’s great!” Wally gasped out. “B-but if you like me back then how com- I feel like I’m missing something here (y/n).”

(Y/N)s blinked owlishly, something that Wally found adorable by the way.

“Wally, I don’t understand? I mean don’t humans court the same a-Oh!”

Then suddenly (Y/N) froze.

“What, what is it?” Wally exclaimed as he became worried.

“Wally, aren't we not already in relations with each other”? (Y/N) asked eyebrow lifting and head tilted.

“I-uh, well do you mean are we a couple?” (Y/N) shook their head vigorously in response.

“Well actually no, I thought we were just friends? To be more than that we would have to go on dates and stuff. And couple stuff like hug and kiss, wait did you already think we were in a relationship?”

Now it was Wally’s turn to tilt his head as he tried to understand this conversation.

“Well yes, I mean we hold hands and hug. We stay up partaking in what you all call the sleepover. Invited me into your hollowed out fortress. You even asked me to break bread in the fine dinery that you call a pizza shop! How could I think any differently?

How could Wally be such an idiot? They are literally from outer space! And not only that but M’gann has pretty much given him a crash course in extraterrestrial customs. Earth and other planets can be quite similar but also extremely different. All the embarrassing things Wally was feeling quickly dissolved into a warm puddle. Wally could feel the laugh bubbling up inside of him and he tried his best to contain it.

“N-no (Y/N) those are all things FRIENDS do. I didn’t realize how those may have come across as something more”.

Wally chuckled out as he reached out to grab (y/n)s hands. (Y/N) was more than happy to meet him in the middle.

“ I mean I did flirt here and there but I didn’t actually mean it in a romantic way. Well at first at least.”

Wally felt his cheeks get warm as (y/n) started to smile bashfully.

“This is what you humans call, embarrassing. I’m so sorry for the way I reacted.” (Y/N) gently placed their hands on Wally’s face and tilted his head up to look at them directly.

“You see, on my home planet we are not a very tactical species. So things like touch are seen as something more intimate. And public displays of affection are often reserved for couples who have formed a special bond. From the moment you introduced yourself to me by putting your arm on my shoulders, I was more than certain that was what your intention was!”

(Y/N) cringed as they started to hug themself. “So when you asked me if I wanted to go out. I thought that was your way of telling me that you wanted to end things.”

Wally couldn’t help the snort that came out. (Y/N) retaliated by plucking him in his forehead.

“Geez ow (Y/N)! Wally complained rubbing his forehead but there was a dopey smile on his face.

“So this was just all a big misunderstanding?”

(Y/N) shook their head but they also had a smile on their face.

“Yknow we're gonna look back on this and laugh right?” (Y/N) rolled their eyes but embraced Wally in a crushing hug.

“Well maybe we can laugh about it during our-what was it called again?” (Y/N) asked as they let Wally go to get some air.

“A date!” Wally exclaimed as he inhaled deeply holding onto (y/n) for balance.

“And I’ve got the perfect place for us to go!”

Wally held his hand as he led (y/n) to the zeta tubes. (Y/N) gladly accepted and gently grasped Wally’s hand.

“And just to be clear THIS, is officially how people on Earth court each other!” Wally said as he typed in the coordinates to the couple's destination.

“Though your customs sometimes elude me, I think I like it!” (Y/N) squealed excitedly as they bounced on their toes. They couldn’t wait to see where their NOW, boyfriend Wally was taking them!

#wally west #kid flash #the flash #wally west x reader #young justice #the flash x reader #wally west imagine #i blacked out on my break and woke up to this

137 notes · View notes

kanda-franca · 1 year ago

Text

Dark Crisis: Nexus Being

For the Dick Grayson Big Bng 2023 hosted by @dickgraysonbigbang. Paired with the lovely @kiwilart check out their beautiful art done for this! (Thanks for being my partner <33)

The grey zones are spheres of shadow that appear on earth with no rhyme nor reason to their occurrence. They block out what is kept in; no signal, no tech, no arcane or supernatural means are able to penetrate through it. And those who go in never come out. Until Dick Grayson came stumbling out of one with a grave look and a lead. And maybe a truth about himself that could be the answer to stop it.

It was another routine evacuation mission. Star City, 3:32pm.

Nightwing swung from building to building for a better vantage point to spot any citizens.

Speedsters and movement-favoured heroes scouted inside buildings to rush them out.

A simple system formed over months of this, especially for him as an adaptable member for any role.

Zone approaching t-minus 5 minutes, his communicator announced before going back to regular levels of activity.

Comms going off one after another. Requests for backup at Zone C for 20 citizens. Land vehicles requesting clearance and navigation en route to rendezvous point.

Many things. But with grappling hook and his humanly physical attributes, he had to stick to his role.

Then— crying, he hears. Young, just a turn away.

Nightwing let go of the grapple and landed at the corner of a junction.

And right next to a parking metre, a child no older than nine from Nightwing's estimates laid curled up on the ground bawling his eyes out in fear. Black hair, small body it was like looking at a picture of himself. weird.

With how packed the junction was with empty cars haphazardly parked in the middle of the road, it was no wonder that the kid was left forgotten. a bad misight on their part.

Where were his parents?

“Hey,” Nightwing kept his voice calm and inviting. a blend of calming a citizen and child rearing, with a bit of levity that could encourage the kid to look at him.

The boy looked up and immediately latched onto him. Still sniffling but less afraid. no speaking, must be overwhelmed by everything poor kid, he thought sympathetically as he stroked his hair and wrapped another arm around his body.

“It’s gonna be scary for a bit but I’ll get you to safety as soon as we can and get you to your parents ok?” he said. “You can close your eyes for this part but I promise I won't let go.”

He felt a small nod. Good enough.

Nightwing adjusted his grip to grapple onto the nearest building out and let gravity guide him.

Nightwing was created from a story. A history passed down to him from his own hero. Superman had always been a stable figure in his life, a lighthouse when he felt lost.

Nightwing was the great rebuilder. Born of redemption and rebirth and he wanted it so badly. The idea that there was something after a name and purpose is gone.

Nightwing was something else to Dick Grayson. An entirely new understanding of what skills he had and how he could use it.

But lately, with the Grey Zones and its uncomfortable feeling of impending doom left him restless. Every week he went on the field to evacuate thousands and migrate them to the nearest refuge. It was stressful. To hear the cries of those that have lost their lives to the black hole of an enemy, to hear begging and pleading of turning back, or the solemn silence of developed apathy.

It always felt as though Dick could do more as a vigilante. Despite all he had done; his relentless training to keep his skills sharp, his connections within the hero community, the actual good he has put into the world. He chalked it up to perfectionism most of the time, but this was different.

As if his identity held another weight. a meaning being formed right in front of him. As if the universe had started calling, humming a crooning tune that beckoned him closer, to an answer or a demise he wasn’t sure.

He felt it the moment they went into this mess.

It was a routine day for the heroes on the west coast of the US. They heard reports of an abnormal darkness spreading and investigated.

Emergency services were already present on the field when they arrived, yet where the road continued to lead off to shadows instead. It was a spherical wall of opaque black, yet swirling like smoke at moments in non-euclidean similarity. They sent off one of their vehicles to go in and report if it was safe to move forward.

Communications malfunctioned as soon as the last glimpse of the ambulance passed through.

They thought they would be better able to pass through and evacuate the citizens left inside.

News broke out that an entire team of heroes were lost to the zone the situation took on a dire light. So the Justice League swiftly acted.

Superman, the face of the League took charge of the first emergency meeting with

The first report of the Grey Zone outside of the United States was the UK.

Then followed by China, Mexico, South Africa. Soon enough, every nation had been plagued with the darkness, entire cities of people left homeless, setting forth hastily formed refugee bases in stadiums, school gyms and convention centres. Because no one knew if they would be hit next. If there was any point in fully stocking these areas if there was a chance that it would be gone the next day.

Six months into this pandemic, Singapore became completely lost to the Grey Zone. A dark spot on the world

The best thinkers in the world working with the brains of the Justice League were coming up empty, every occultist they knew had consulted the supernatural to no avail, the world had long become antsy for some sort of solution but they had nothing.

They were powerless.

The Grey Zone at Star City stopped expanding.

The heroes waited with baited breath. Nightwing on the comms said it would be a tight squeeze to get out in time but he sounded confident. But the likelihood that he did was decreasing every second.

It’s not that there ever has been a case for people to escape the Grey Zone, so really expecting Nightwing to come out of it was a foolish dream.

It’s just that no one could quite believe that something could defeat him. Nightwing has always been an adversary for the notion of impossibility, a human that could bend reality to what he could do, his feats seeming to contradict the laws of the universe. So for him to not make it out was wrong on so many levels.

They waited way longer than they should have.

And he was still gone.

It couldn’t end like this.

Did everyone feel it in the end? The overwhelming feeling of terror down to the bone, washed in cold guilt like ice down his back.

He kept swinging still, muscle memory from a lifetime of vigilante work taking over as he took greater focus on beating the encroaching darkness. He could feel it nip at his back, a constant push and pull of wrapping them in its arms.

But he started slowing. It started speeding up.

His eyes behind his mask widened as the darkness finally swallowed him and the boy in his arms.

No.

He woke up on a cot in the Watchtower’s medbay. Alone except for Batman in the room. No dire injuries, no bandages, nothing physically felt off. The boy.

“W-where is he?” Dick croaked, voice hoarse from disuse.

Batman, seeming to understand, stepped forward and spoke. “When you went back on our radar, you were alone. Team Alpha two days ago reported that you were carrying a child westward to the rendezvous. We couldn’t find him.”

It hurt to hear how he failed in saving a kid’s life. How they both went in but he was the only one that made it.

“Oh.”

There really wasn’t much to say after that. Wait— two days?

Batman subtly straightened up, a miniscule action only caught by years of knowing him; the shift of his cape, his jaw shifting slightly, the narrowing of the whites in his eyes.

“How did you get out?”

“I- I don’t know. Just… It’s— they’re?— stealing the colours, the memories, the lives. Everything.”

He couldn’t remember what happened to him before and after.

But the memories rushed through him. Colours to grey, alive to emptiness, a slow death. And most importantly, how he escaped it all.

“That’s not an answer Nightwing and you know that,” Batman squinted in his cowl even further, “You’re hiding something.”

Nightwing pinched his eyebrows, huffing out an approximate to a laugh. God, Batman would never believe what really happened. He was hoping for some more time to formulate something better. Something that made more sense in words than just feelings and inexplicable experiences.

“I- I saw God?” he tried, incredibly bashful in his delivery.

A hum. Continue on then.

“Not really God either. It was like the universe but larger, so much more than what we know but also smaller?”

The words have never failed him before now. He pushed through, “We were in the darkness and I was the only one awake or maybe I was alone?”

He wavered at Bruce’s increasingly wrinkled cowl. “So, it did and now I’m here,” he summarised, raising jazz hands as he uncomfortably looked away.

It was silent. The sterile white of the medbay grew brighter, piercing his eyes, and there was a faint ringing in his ears that only grew louder. Batman just stood there, emotionless as always, then left the room.

As the doors closed, Dick put his head in his hands and groaned as he stewed over what he did wrong.

The Justice League (and the wider hero community in general) could be such mother hens. It's been a week and Nightwing still hasn't been cleared for the field. For the most part, stuck in the Watchtower or the Manor.

Suffice to say that he was going more than stir crazy.

He used to do ground patrol during evacs. An adaptable member on various teams due to his ability to clear out buildings inside out from the top down or bottom up.

Now they were just trying to put him on PR duty till they felt safe to let him out (read: never). They’ve given him first hand accounts, the latest classified world leaders’ meeting, and even evacuation team reports— which just gave him a massive case of FOMO instead. Not that they were having a good time; he’s a workaholic and he misses his work. He just finished reading the evacuation report in Italy, one of his assigned areas too.

Normally, Dick wasn’t opposed to this side of the vigilante lifestyle, he has just as much experience with the public as Superman. But it didn’t feel as fulfilling making notes for Black Canary to address in the next press conference or chairing the next international meeting, than what he really wanted to do.

He knows what he saw. But he had reason to believe that some of them doubted his testimony, and might even assume that he lost a few screws while in there. Hence, Dick being grounded. If he just had more time to process it. Think it all straight and lay it out for Batman just one more time.

At the very least, there are some in the research team who would “look into it”. Not much to go off of, but it could be a start at unravelling the mystery. Although, with the rapid onslaught of new Grey Zones recently, there’s no telling as to when they’ll get to it.

It also brought him to think about the topic he dreaded most, the one he neglected to tell the others just because of how irrational it was: the nature of himself. When Batman found him out, he didn’t know where to start, what to even say. So he made a diversion to steer away from it, let the others focus on the weird trip he went on to hide what he learnt. It was something that shouldn’t be said yet, something he couldn’t verbalise because of how reality will sink in when he does.

Whatever it meant to be a Nexus Being, what it entails, what is so different about him now that he knew about it.

So, he was stuck with his thoughts and the weight of solving this on his own.

He’s running. His breath fogs in the cold, every inhale burning his lungs. But it physically hurts too. A million tiny pieces of debris crawling down his throat, clogging his airways. Every other breath is him hacking his lungs out.

He doesn’t know why he’s still running. He’s stuck isn’t he? He doesn’t know what happened. When the world went dark, it was as if he walked through a doorway and forgot what he was going to get. All he knows is to try and escape. He keeps running on the empty street.

He was carrying something. He forgot what it was.

Every piece of him longs to see the sun again. But with every bound and leap, there’s a growing feeling that he should slow down, to stop.

And it’s incredibly convincing.

If Dick were to recount this tale, if he were to live and get through this, he wouldn’t be able to say that he tried as hard as he could to brush it off. He was tired and weary and call it uncharacteristic, but he stopped.

A wave of tiredness immediately washes over him. Head spinning, he leans on the nearest wall and tries to catch his breath. He coughs every other time, and attempts to stifle them into every third at least. He finally has the time to observe his surroundings thought, and then it hits him.

It wasn’t really dark.

He knows the night. He grew up in the shadows of the Bat, learned to live and blend in with it. Make it home when everything else was still so unfamiliar back then. Don’t get him wrong, the world blurred to grey as he ran and every part of him felt enveloped by blackness but he knows every shade of the sky when it’s dark out and this isn’t it.

The sky above him looked erased, a blank canvas where there should have been substance. It was disorientating, especially when he questioned where the light was emitting from. Because if the sky was… nothingness— best descriptor he had, and there weren’t any lamps lit on the street, nor any light coming from the windows, then where was it coming from?

He double checks his investigation of the place. All the weirdness pointing to supernatural means.

Then he registers figures coming into frame. Appearing out of the fog that limits his vision.

His eyes widen with what he sees.

People. But entirely grayscale as they walk unseeingly and zombielike. They pass by Dick without a second glance. And they’re all heading in one direction, towards the centre where the Grey Zone first started expanding.

He has nothing to do but follow.

Every vigilante worth their salt knew how to create evidence boards, vigilante as in the Bats presenting their discoveries. If only to aid in some finer flaunting.

And as such, it was what he was currently doing to figure out the whole Nexus Being and saving the world problem. Simple.

As of now, he’s dug out an old cork board and a few discarded theories from Research: a tie to the nth metals from that one crisis involving the Dark Multiverse, thus connecting it to the electrum metal flowing through his blood, a possible Court of Owls involvement? Then more about the darkness, the Great Darkness, the Great Evil, the Shadow Creature, etc— Dick had to applaud the list of aliases, but the ambiguous branding could use some work. Digressing, the only two barely connected ideas were the Carter Hall notebook and something about a Sandman?

He was nowhere close to understanding. And it was also a bit of pride stopping him from calling any of Justice League Dark, who he justified as being very preoccupied. It’s an uncomfortable space to be in, being short of an answer you thought you could find out yourself.

He debated on whether he should involve someone else in this. If it was something he should even share. But in reality, those questions covered for the other part of him that was scared he wouldn’t like the answer, mainly that a Nexus Being meant he was a danger to others. If things would change with how others view him.

And a tinier part of him was angry if this was all fate. That he didn’t work as hard as he actually should because of the world intending it so. It’s not as if he couldn’t handle sudden change, but maybe he didn’t want change right now, he was happy with how he was living life, why should something he apparently has always been change that?

It’s those tiny thoughts that spiral and take over what was important. That cloud his mind sometimes from duty. As a hero, he knows what it takes and he knows what he should prioritise.

He buried the Batman in him and dialled Zatanna.

Dick can only describe the trip as a weird cross of dystopian hellscape paired with the uncanny familiarity of Star City. To sum up the rest of his experience though… he is surrounded by people, but they walk as if forced into rigid lines and columns. However, there’s a wide circular berth around Nightwing—he doesn’t feel a compulsion to fit into the status quo, nor does he need to walk in the same as them, so he’s just barrelling through the people out onto the street.

He continued a little ways behind them all as they walked and walked and walked.

He had a sinking feeling in his chest as more people appeared in droves heading the same direction. Junctions allowing a growing crowd to emerge and spill onto the road. As they entered the park gates by Midtown, it finally hits him.

They’re at the epicentre of the Grey Zone, a water fountain frozen in time stood at ground zero. He knew that his team branched off from the park but with the way the people lined themselves in wait around the fountain, it was a detail he couldn’t shake.

Everyone stands stock-still, and as he’s already incredibly unnerved by all of this, he goes to touch someone. He knows him— it takes a while to get his name, Peter, a fan of Nightwing that he once saved who came up to him after the battle to talk about acrobatics. Just a pleasant conversation with a fellow acrobat that makes what he does all worth it.

But he doesn’t get the answer he thought he’d get. Peter doesn’t recognise him. He’s a stranger. And there’s a growing indication that everyone around him is also in this state.

He staggers back and finds himself alone drifting through the cosmos. Alone. At least it’s easier to breathe.

The black canvas and its painted stars. There is a peace in being alone with such beauty, and he takes painless breaths as he watches the glinting galaxies. It’s a nice change but

The peace doesn’t last.

The hair on his neck quivers as he feels a presence behind him. He turns around.

What Dick has on the topic of… whatever is going on, is actually pretty in depth. It’s amazing what someone can do when they have nothing else going on.

He dug up as much as he could but what Zatanna could offer helped more than he could say.

He first had to tell her the whole story from start to finish. The problem was that he never did improve how he told it after the first time. Fortunately, Zatanna was more than capable of understanding of course she was. Dick loves her so much for that.

Who could forget the magician and her reverse words? Her power in knowing the twisting nature of language and the natural state of a confusing world was well suited for Dick’s experiences. His stuttered speech finally comprehensible for the first time?

While she didn’t have time to explain fully, she guided him in the right direction. Zatanna had big duties. A point of contact for the supernatural that the League could rely on (sorry Constantine). She still took the time though, which was much more than what he expected.

She first added onto the Sandman point: “There was this thing he once said, something about a black sun? But he did say it would be his fight if that were to happen.”

“Thankfully, we’re not at that part.” yet he added silently.

“He knows this isn’t it. Always good to take out what isn’t relevant.” And easily as that, Zatanna removed his pin on Dream. It was a loose guess anyway.

“Moving on, what exactly is this?” she tapped an idea he tacked on last minute.

The theory of the reverse universe. So, William Sidis was one of those people Bruce added to his reading list in vigilantism. A moral story of genius pushed into obscurity, and this and that about expanding ideas. But also, how some things can be truer than what meets the eye.

And for this theory, he couldn’t get it out of his head. The laws of the reverse universe work in opposition to theirs. Focused not only on energy, but time as well. Sidis proposed that the organisms in that universe would conceive the past as the future and the future as the past. The past then, becomes something unknown.

And energy instead of dispersing, gathers.

Dick simplified this as much as he could when he relayed it to Zatanna. A rough yet solid idea. But one she couldn’t add any weight to.

“For something like this… I don’t know, Dick. I guess in the same way the Phantom Zone exists, it might be possible. But why here? Why now?”

He couldn’t answer with that statement. “It’s outlandish but almost everything in that book was uncanny. We just need to know how the Grey Zones come into this. I just need to dig further.”

“You mean we?” Zatanna said that with no-nonsense.

Dick pointedly did not answer. She sighed heavily and gave him a long look but didn’t press on it. Has he mentioned that he loves her?

It’s not that he doesn’t trust her. The depth of which he can trust his life in her hands feels infinite. But he can’t bring her into this more than he already has.

They continued on bullet point after bullet point and they would have done so till they exhausted every possibility, extrapolated every piece of information, if not for Zatanna’s comms to go off.

“Oh, duty calls—” she checked her alert—“I gotta get going—something’s going down in Malta? All the best though, Dick.”

After a quick peck on his cheek, she leaned in close and whispered. “You’re not in this alone.”

“Thank you for the help, Zatanna,” he ignored that last statement, definitely a dick move but what else could he say?

She had no idea what a Nexus Being is, coming to the same conclusion he did about focal points and connections. Zatanna did say though, right before she left, that she’d look into it.

He hasn’t decided if that’s a good thing or not.

He takes a step back to take in the whole board. Turn his head to the side, then the other. His eyes widen and he turns on his heel and leaves.

Dick can’t describe what he’s looking at.

The background is simple. The stars and galaxies are still there, twinkling. The purples and blues in a marbling display in his sight, they swirl in his eyes that expand infinitely across his surroundings.

But the entity in front of him is literally beyond comprehension. Any depiction he conjures in his head is wiped. He knows he catches faces appearing, his brain scrambling to find life in there like a jacket over a chair in the middle of the night. Inexplicable images flashing faster than the blink of an eye.

He can work with referring to… them as the anthropomorphic night. More than a lifetime of experience for that honestly.

Contrary to popular belief, he is not given the heavenly task of spreading the word of God. Instead he is greeted with warnings.

He is projected with flashing red errors and every hazard symbol that spells out bad news. He’s a deadly virus, a relentless parasite. He embodies the world in chaos, raging fires, and the apocalypse. He’s at the centre of it all— every finger pointed at his existence.

Dick voicelessly screams into the void. He feels every inch of pain rack his body. He dies over and over again, it’s not the pummelling blows he’s used to, it’s the very breath being taken from his lungs in a constant loop.

He feels himself slip into unconsciousness under the currents of the stars. And he dreams of something called a Nexus Being.

Zatanna doesn’t often find herself listless in her line of work. She has a grocery list of things to attend to in this crisis.

But her thoughts stray to Dick’s situation. The League had been hesitant to say anything about his disappearance and return. For valid reasons too, the questions, the accusations that could pop up— she does not want to be in the PR team’s shoes if that were to happen.

Luckily, or unluckily depending on how you view it, those two days were only stressful for the League who just lost one of their strongest members in both skill and bond.

They push against impossible odds so often that those two days were spent trying to find him, hoping for the business of revival to come to him. It did, but at what cost?

Dick was slightly off-kilter when he came back. Pulling away and retreating into himself despite the League’s attempts at protecting him. Zatanna gets it but Dick is not meant to be cooped up on the ground for so long. She jumped at the opportunity to help.

A fat load of good that did. Now he’s gone again and all that’s left is his mystery board that no one can begin to decode.

But Zatanna knows. She just needs help from a couple others.

End of Part One

#Dick Grayson #Dick Grayson Big Bang 2023 #i have a whole lot of stories for this world #but the ending of this will be done soon #Nexus Being Dick Grayson

20 notes · View notes

hailsantabook · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 3: Love

Chapter 3

Love

I loved the rain.

I loved the cleansing effect it had on the world around me, the calmness it brought to my mind when I watched it fall through the window. Coupled with a soft warm blanket and a hot cup of tea, rain-watching became a spiritual experience for me, something special between me and God alone, a moment of connection in the peaceful ecstasy of the falling droplets of life.

I hated thunderstorms.

The shattering tear of lightning through the sky, the rumbling ground, the dark clouds that shrouded the world in a short burst of chaotic fury. The roaring winds, the near demonic whistling through the trees, the shriek of thunder and the crackling flashes through the sky.

Ten years ago my father came up behind me during a thunderstorm, and put a heavy hand on my little shoulder. “Imagine it being ten thousand times worse than this.” He said, a smile on his face as he gazed at the downpour. “That’s what Armageddon will be like. This is only a mere fraction of what Jehovah will do.”

“Is Jehovah making the rain scary now?” I asked in the typical childish mindset.

“Yes, Jehovah does all of this, both directly and not.”

My little heart sank, because this was terrifying, and I thought I was supposed to find comfort with Jehovah.

“Daddy, why does Jehovah do scary things?”

“To remind us of his power, so that we fear him.”

“Fear him?”

“Yes.”

“Why does he want us to be afraid?”

My father chuckled. “When Daddy tells you to do something nicely, you don’t always do it, do you?” I shook my little head. “But when Daddy gets his belt, you listen, right?”

I nodded.

“It’s like that, son. This is just Jehovah’s belt, making sure the world knows his sovereignty and never forgets it, even if we claim to.”

He patted me on the shoulder and walked away.

I’ve been terrified of thunderstorms ever since.

🎅

I was staring at my new work schedule. My first work schedule. Trisha had sent it to me through text.

I told her to give me as much time as she could, that I was ready and willing to work hard.

I had Mom look at the schedule so she’d know when to drop me off at the mall each day. She lowered her eyebrows.

“A lot of these days overlap into your service days, Kai.”

I nodded. “I can do both, I end service around 12, so I can get home, get dressed, and be at work by 1.”

“And then work until 8PM? I don’t want you burning yourself out with your first job.”

“Come on, I can do this Mom!”

“I have no doubt that you can, I’m saying after a couple days of this you won’t want to.”

Dad joined the conversation not long after, walking into the kitchen in his typical buttoned-up attire.

“How’d the job hunt go, Kai?”

“Really good. I start working at the arcade tomorrow.”

“Great!”

“I’m trying to help him balance his work schedule with his service schedule.”

“Always important, and how’s that going?”

She showed him the phone. “With service included he’s gonna be working from 8am to 8pm four days a week. That’s not even including meetings or studies. Can you please explain why that’s a bad idea for someone his age?”

“Well, Kai, you can’t slave for two masters.”

“I’m young and spry though, right?”

Mom patted my head condescendingly. “Yes but you’re not superman. You’re gonna have to either cut back on work hours or cut back on service hours.”

“Well now, he won’t be cutting back on any service hours.”

“Oh come on Tim, he’s more than excelling in service.”

“And it should stay that way, shouldn’t it, Margaret?”

“What about a compromise?” I piped up, “I could do letter writing to make up for any time lost.”

“Well, letter writing is not a replacement, Kai. Don’t you want to go to Bethel someday?”

“You do letter writing too, Dad. I saw a lady with one of your letters out in service the other day.”

“Oh really now?” Dad was intrigued, as far as I knew he never got to interact with anyone he sent letters to before. “What’d she say about it?”

I thought back to that day. “She didn’t say anything about it, just said she got a letter in a yellow envelope after her husband died.”

“Ah, yes, I think I remember her.”

“Well, why can’t I just do letter writing to make up for any service time I miss out on if you can?”

Dad rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged in Mom’s direction.

“Eh, fine. I don’t see why not.”

I was happier than I thought I could be with that. I took my phone back from Mom and informed Trisha that the schedule would be perfect for me.

You asked for a shit ton of hours, glad I could provide.

That night, Dad taught me how to get addresses to send letters to. First, we looked through the obituaries, and any addresses provided to send flowers or mail to, we jotted them down next to the names of the surviving family members.

I wrote them by hand on a sweet flowery letterhead, folded them up and added a brochure before sticking it inside an envelope and slapping it into a pile.

Dad patted me on the back once he was sure I had gotten the hang of it, and he left the room, giving me the freedom to either continue with letter writing or do something else for the night. I decided I’d do just one more, for a Mrs. Henrietta Finkle-Gates who had passed just yesterday.

Survived by her wife, Abigail Finkle-Gates.

I paused.

We share the good news to everyone, right?

But, could I really promise Abigail that she’d see her wife again in paradise if God never approved of their marriage?

I was biting my nails more than I realized.

I went to Dad, showed him the obituary, and asked him what I should do.

“Just move on to the next one, son.” He said, leaving it at that.

But it felt wrong to just decide that this woman didn’t deserve to know God just because she had taken the wrong path in life.

So I asked Mom.

“It’s not your place to judge her heart, Kai. If you feel compelled to write to her, do it.”

So, I did.

I wrote to her about Paradise, about the resurrection hope, about everlasting life in perfect health.

And I didn’t mention Jehovah’s stance on homosexuality once.

🎅

Trisha had her hand on her hip while she watched me wiping snot off the joystick of an arcade machine. I had gloves on, but it was still nauseating me, so I turned around to look at her and caught a cheeky smile on her face.

"So when's your boyfriend coming around again?"

My heart jumped at that. "Boyfriend?"

"The tall guy you're always leaning on and hugging."

"Oh, that's Alan, he's my best friend.” I turned back to the machine and decided it was clean before clarifying, “but we're not dating."

"Ohhh. That's right, JWs don't do the whole same love thing."

"It's very much looked down upon, yeah."

"Don’t you like him that way though?"

"Um, I don't swing that way."

"It's just, guys don't typically get physical with each other unless they're, yanno, dating."

"We're just really affectionate guys."

"Would you be offended if I called bullshit on that?"

"I'm not offended, I just don't see why you think there's something between us."

She was closer now, looking at me head on. "You're not the kind of guy to look people in the eye when they're speaking to you. Nothing wrong with that, but, when he speaks, you look at him, you look him straight in the eyes."

I shrugged, noting that my eyes were anywhere but on hers. "I feel comfortable with him."

"You're telling me you've never once had a romantic thought about him?"

"You kissed?!"

"We were kids though, practicing for girls. It lasted like a second."

"And how many girls have you kissed since then?"

“Well, none, but-”

“So your only kiss ever was with him?”

"Look, I admit Alan and I are pretty close, maybe unusually close. But there's nothing romantic about our relationship."

"What do you feel when you touch him?"

"Idunno, warmth, comfort. Like, home, if home were a person."

"You blind? That's love, kid."

"Well I never think about him naked or being intimate or anything."

"That doesn’t matter. What do you think about then?"

"I think about the future, maybe getting a house together, yanno, a bachelor house. We could both be pioneers and we'd get to spend every day together."

"Is your gaydar this broken?"

"I'm not in love with Alan!"

"But you do love Alan."

"As a brother, yeah."

"You don't see it?"

"See what?"

"You love him."

"As a brother."

"Kid, listen. I was raised Catholic, alright? I know the mental hoops kids in denial will go through to convince themselves that they're not queer. But it catches up to you one day whether you run from it or not, and being authentic is the only way to make sure you're not caught off guard when it does."

"Look, even if there was something between us, we’d never be able to be together anyways.”

“All I’m saying is to look inside your heart and decide for yourself what this is before you walk away from it for the sake of your religion. I’ve seen too many people deny who they love for the sake of the satisfaction of those around them.”

I took a moment to think about what she had said. I concluded pretty quickly that she was crazy; of course I didn’t love Alan romantically.

Didn’t I?

Getting called out on it shined a light on the state of my heart in a way I had never contemplated before.

I adored Alan, sure. I loved being around him and I was sure he felt the same. I felt giddy when I saw him, and sure, maybe I touched him a bit too much.

But I couldn’t help it. He felt like home to me. He felt like the warmth radiating from a fireplace in the dead of winter. He smelled like fresh brewed coffee on a cold morning and hot chocolate in the blizzard of the evening. He looked like the future, he looked like paradise, he looked like the missing half of my soul.

I could feel my heart gently dropping at the conclusion. Was that the only reason I wasn’t allowing myself to admit to this? Had I already sinned within my heart just for contemplating the matter?

And if this was love, what was I going to do about it anyways?

I pictured, for the sake of experimentation, his lips on mine, like they had been all those years ago for a mere second or less.

His lips on mine, his lips caressing my own, kissing me softly, inhaling me while I breathe him out.

That was all it took.

I opened my eyes, my heart racing.

I looked into my own eyes in the reflection of a game’s black screen.

Maybe, I did like Alan.

🎅

Nothing was the same after that.

I was too nervous to even text him after work, feeling like he would somehow be able to tell from my messages alone that I was starting to think of us differently.

My phone’s home screen being of us didn’t help my self accusations. How could you have been this stupid? This entire time you’ve been falling for him. Probably been tempting him too with how oblivious you are.

And if I was in love with him, what did that say about me? I never thought of myself as gay, I’ve always found girls cute, I think. I didn’t really think about girls, or guys, or romance in general. So, what was I? Bisexual? Was there another label for me? Should I even be contemplating a label at all? Was God watching me and shaking his head while I ran circles around my own mind?

Dad would kill me, he’d murder me if he found out his only son had the hots for his best friend. Mom would cry herself into a bottle of wine. My sister would never look at me the same again, the entire congregation would look at me differently if they found out.

Just as I was texting Mom to inform her that I was ready to get picked up from work, Alan messaged me.

Guess who just got Blue Life Destruction II!

I gulped. Alan would be so disappointed with the way I had started thinking about him.

Don’t let it in, Kai. I let it in, and it’s been eating me alive ever since.

If only I had listened to him, I thought. But no, I just had to go and make things difficult for myself.

I struggled to even string enough thoughts together to respond to his message.

It’s me, in case you were actually wondering :)

I wasn’t, but goddamn, he was adorable.

Sweet, wanna bring it over tomorrow?

Tomorrow? What time?

I’m off work tomorrow, so, after service? ;)

Winky face? Come on Kai!

Alright ;)

Shoot, now he was using it too!

I shook my head at the rising heat in my cheeks. I did it, I let it in, just like Alan told me not to. And now I was falling head first into something I couldn’t control anymore.

I couldn’t stop thinking about him as I walked through the mall. Every thought of him made my heart skip a beat, everywhere I looked I remembered us walking through this place, sometimes even holding hands. People probably mistook us for a couple on multiple occasions and I had been none the wiser.

This was my fault, I didn’t struggle with same-sex attraction, Alan did. I just got careless, and now we’re in this mess.

But, was it really so wrong to just be in love with him?

Sure, it might hurt if he went on with someone new, especially if he ended up leaving the truth and dating a man, I’d feel completely betrayed. But in the meantime, would it be wrong just to admit my feelings for him?

It’s Jehovah’s command to never lie, isn’t it? That’s what I’ve been told. Men in the bible had been killed for lying, and I’d certainly be lying if I said I didn’t at least like Alan in a sort of romantic sense.

So, I had to admit it then. I had to admit I had feelings for him, at least to myself.

🎅

I was in the car with Mom, probably looking like a sad broken dog since she kept turning in my direction, each time nearly saying something but each time turning back to the wheel and ignoring the temptation to do so.

Within several minutes, she broke the ice. “What’s getting your goat, kiddo? This ain’t like you.”

I shrugged. “Just, hard day is all.”

“Well, if you wanna talk about it I’m here.”

I sighed. My mom was the one person in my life to always be on my side, and I was blessed to have her. If I could be open and honest about anything with anyone, it would be her.

“Homosexuality is condemned in the bible, right Mom?”

“It is. I’m guessing you heard about the incident with Alan?”

I perked up my ears and turned to her. “Incident?”

“He didn’t tell you?” She looked surprised.

“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

Mom raised her eyebrows and took a quick breath. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you then, but, Alan’s mother came over today and asked me for some advice. She had found some… questionable materials in his bedroom. Nothing pornographic, some magazines and the like, featuring, well, men.”

“Is he gonna get punished for it?”

“Probably not. He just needs some counseling.”

“Do you think Alan is gay?” I didn’t know if my mom knew, but I know she didn’t know I knew.

“No, he’s a curious young man, everyone has one moment or another where they wonder what it’s like to indulge a fantasy. We’re human.”

“Mom, what if I was gay?”

She looked a bit surprised, but ultimately kept her cool. “Well, do you think you’re gay?”

“Uh, a little, I guess.”

“A little as in, you think you might be bisexual?”

“Maybe?”

“Well, Kai, no matter what your feelings are, remember that it’s the act that Jehovah condemns, not feelings, not dreams, not even thoughts.”

“But I shouldn’t even think about it, should I?”

“You can’t always control your thoughts, kiddo. Direct yourself away from unclean thoughts but, you don’t have to constantly police your own mind.”

“What if I did, you know, act on it? What would happen to me?”

Her tone suddenly became decently stern, and she turned to look at me, having stopped at a light. “Kai, if you ever act on anything like that, you come talk to me first, alright? Don’t tell your dad first. He doesn’t have… a filter with stuff like that.”

“You saying there's stuff dad does have a filter with?”

“He’s a difficult man, but a good provider. None of us go without because of him. Everyone serves a purpose, Kai.”

Some part of me felt like “he serves a purpose” wasn’t a good look for Dad as a husband, but she didn’t need to tell me twice to keep this newfound desire of mine a secret from him.

🎅

Alan had been whisked away by virtual cowboys, traversing the wilderness of the old west on a massive black and white stallion he just bought since he couldn’t stand to steal one.

His fingers found home on the controller once more. Though the game allowed for mass amounts of violence and destruction, Alan played as a good boy, helping people instead of hurting them and playing more of a vigilante hero than a murderous psychopath.

I’d play the murderous psychopath if he’d let me play, which is exactly why he wasn’t letting me.

Regardless, I respected his privacy, unlike his mom had.

Unlike my mom had, to be fair.

“How was work today by the way?” Alan piped up as he picked virtual flowers in a virtual field.

“Oh, it was fine. My boss slash coworker Trisha had to help a kid climb out of the basketball game cabinet.”

“How’d he get in there at all?”

“Climbed in when nobody was looking I guess. Didn’t get hurt thankfully.”

“Gotta love how unintentionally suicidal kids are.”

“The guy I replaced came in today asking for severance pay, Trisha just kinda laughed him out.”

“The guy who disappeared?”

“Yeah, Trisha was pretty sure he was dead but I guess he just went off on a bender and didn’t even realize how much time passed. Left without any issues though so that ended up being uneventful. What about you, how was your day?”

“Oh, nothing much happened.”

“Oh?”

“Well,” he paused the game, “had a bit of an issue with my mom today.”

“Yeah?”

He tried to wave it off, but didn’t return to the game. Instead he turned to his fingers, suddenly finding a strand of straying skin infinitely more intriguing than the screen in front of him.

“Mom found some pictures under my bed. Pictures I shouldn’t’ve had anyways.”

I already knew what all of this was about of course, but I couldn’t help but to pry a tad. “Pictures of?”

“Men, nothing nude, but men I found… attractive, in one way or another.”

“Oh.”

“It felt like since it wasn’t graphic it was fine but, Matthew 5:28 states that even gazing lustfully at someone means you have committed adultery with them.”

“Well, surely having some pictures of guys under your bed isn’t the same as sleeping with a guy.”

“But Jehovah has stated that it is as bad. That’s what that scripture is saying. I’m a sinful man, Kai. And, I don’t know if I’ll ever be normal.”

Jehovah was speaking through him to me. No matter what Mom had said, gazing at someone with lust was a sin, plain as day.

Alan knew that. I knew that.

So why couldn’t I get him out of my head?

Without thinking much about it, I blurted out, “hey, we haven’t had a sleepover in a while, you know?”

He chuckled and returned his attention to the TV, resuming the game. “We’re a bit old for that, wouldn’t you say?”

“I wouldn’t say. Why not? We got that congregation picnic tomorrow, so you could just ride with us!”

“Well, alright, if your folks say it’s fine.”

“We can walk down to the corner mart, get snacks, binge SPURRED!”

“Heh, would your Mom let us make a pillow fort in the living room?” He was smiling, and I felt good for getting that smile out of him.

“She didn’t mind it ten years ago, I’m sure she won’t mind it now.”

🎅

“Are you boys seriously building a pillow fort in the living room?” She said it with amusement rather than true judgment. She was holding back an erratic chuckle when she caught sight of Alan crouched inside the fort like a caveman.

“Hey, would you rather we grow up too fast, or too slow?”

“Sometimes too fast and sometimes too slow.” She picked up one of her tasseled throw pillows that had unceremoniously dropped to the ground, and tossed it to Alan. “You boys want anything special for dinner?”

“Nah, we’re gonna fill up on sweets and popcorn.”

“Well I don’t want you both sick at the picnic tomorrow so could you at least promise me you’ll eat a vegetable at some point tonight?”

“Do fried mushrooms count?” I asked, turning to her as I laid a big sheet over the pillow towers we had erected.

“They stop counting as vegetables once they’ve been battered and fried, Kai.”

“Fine, we’ll swap popcorn for kale chips, that good enough?”

“Replace candy with fruit and you’ll make me even happier.”

“Not happening.”

She shrugged. “Jehovah can’t say I didn’t try.”

I returned my attention to Alan, who was currently inside the fort, dumping a bag of mixed candies into a big blue glass bowl.

Alan never had much of a sweet tooth, but he knew I did. He knew all my favorites, namely anything containing chocolate or at least tasting like chocolate, and gummies of every shape and flavor.

He was more into the savory; popcorn, chips, and yeah, he even liked the kale chips my mom kept around. He liked pistachios, and sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds and almonds. I could hardly stand most of it, but he loved it, and it was vice versa for him as well.

The graphic violence didn’t perturb Dad in the slightest however. Violence only bothered him if it was in a videogame we were playing, and since there was no magic in the show it was pretty much considered fine in this Jehovah’s Witness household.

Alan’s family didn’t feel the same about it though, so we usually only got to watch it together at my place.

More than once as we stayed up into the night, our fingers slid against each other as I’d reach for a kale chip or he’d sneak a candy, and I tried to pretend that my heart wasn’t aching for those moments to last longer than they could.

Maybe a sleepover was a bad idea, at least now when I was trying to figure out what my feelings were for him. Maybe it would have been better if I just sent him home, or told him the truth about my feelings so that he’d know to keep his distance from me physically, but I couldn’t.

I couldn’t lose him. I couldn’t lose his touch, or his presence. I needed him in my life.

The fifth time it happened, I grasped his hand. He looked at me with surprise.

“Sorry.” He tried to pull away, must’ve assumed I just didn’t want him digging in my candy anymore. But I looked at him, looked him in his eyes. I smiled, I caressed his hand with my finger, and I let him go.

“Remember when we were kids?” I asked.

“Sure, doesn’t everyone?”

“Well, specifically, remember when I asked you how do you kiss a girl?”

He chuckled and turned red. “Sure I do, you were convinced that me being a year older than you was a whole lifetime ahead. Like I had all the answers.”

“You acted like you did.” I was smiling wide, fidgeting the fingers that had just held his hand. “Remember when we kissed just to practice on each other?”

He giggled. “We both thought we’d be doing a lot more girl-kissing by now.”

“I really miss being a kid. Didn’t have to second guess things like that the way we do now.”

“What, kissing?”

“Well kinda, back then it didn’t mean anything but now, it carries a lot of weight.”

“Don’t you think it should? I mean, we understand now that it would be wrong of us to do stuff like that.”

“But, how far is too far? We hold hands and hug and stuff.”

“Yeah, but, it’s platonic.”

I reached for his hand again and looked up at him. “So this, this is fine?”

He nodded, but he looked torn.

I moved my hand up, to touch his shoulder, then caressed his cheek.

I smiled. He smiled.

I wanted to kiss him.

I didn’t.

🎅

I was awake at the first sight of pale blue bleaching the night sky through the window just outside our fort. It was a sight that never lasted long, always being replaced by the sunrise soon after, then the near permanence of crisp daylight to follow.

This moment shortly before the sun rose was always special to me, probably because I usually slept through it when I could.

Alan wouldn’t be getting up for at least another hour or so, and then he’d be getting ready alongside my family before we headed out to the picnic around 9. It was bound to be a day full of activities with the friends, and I was genuinely excited for it.

But this moment, where he was sleeping peacefully next to me, his hair messy from tossing around on the pillow for the calmer half of the night, his eyes dipped shut and caught in a dream, his breathing gentle and barely audible, I took it in.

I took it and wrapped it around my finger to never forget it. I took in every sensation, my body inches away from him, a resisted instinct deep inside to wrap my arms around him and awaken him with a kiss on his cheek.

Were these feelings always here; calmly condensed under the surface, just waiting for the bottle to pop so they could spill out everywhere like the foam of a fine champagne?

I found it harder to resist my affection for him as the seconds dragged on, each wave of emotion chipping away at the wall I had built around that bottle, breaking in and shaking it up before that cork popped out, audibly, and out poured my love for Alan Rodriguez.

Love, I always knew I loved him, but this was different. And I was having just as much difficulty figuring out how it was different as I was figuring out how it was the same.

I reached my hand out to just gently caress his hair. Soft, so soft I could sleep on it. His hair felt ephemeral, unreal between my fingers. Like I was touching the feathers that made up the wings of an angel himself.

The strands between my digits electrified my veins, I twirled his hair around my fingers and reveled in the feeling of warmth and butterflies that engulfed me like an unholy flame.

I pulled my hand away, scolding myself.

This would be the death of both of us if I gave in. Alan was probably holding on by a thread, if I fell down with him then it would seal our fate. We’d become brutally inflamed with one another, just as we had been warned before. There would be no turning back if I dived in with him, his blood would be on my hands.

But my sudden regard for righteousness didn’t erase the fact that Alan was still here next to me, still my temptation, still growing like a tumor that feeds off forbidden love.

They tell you, “if your right eye causes you to stumble, throw it out.” But Alan wasn’t my eye, he wasn’t a body part I could live without. He was what made my life worth living more than half the time.

He was far less of an eyeball, more like a chamber in my heart, pumping life through my veins, beating in tune and keeping me breathing. Losing him would devastate me, losing him would make everything worthless.

I would rather stumble and struggle with my feelings for him than to ever let him go.

🎅

I was excited for the congregation picnic that day.

Was excited. I was excited right up until Nathan Tuppin caught my eye, his hands holding a plate of cookies covered with plastic wrap.

He looked pretty damn excited to see me, though it was likely my sister Loretta behind me who he was more interested in.

“King of Judah! How are you doing on this fine day?”

I gave him a clearly fake smile. “I’m great.” I was pretty great, I had Alan by my side, free food ahead, beautiful lakeside view, life was great.

If only Nathan would leave I’d be perfect.

“And the lovely Lorrie!” He turned his attention to my sister, giving her a hug before introducing himself to my parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Whitman, I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to meet? I’m Nathan Tuppin. I just moved to the hall.”

My mom nodded, my father greeted him with half as much enthusiasm. “Nathan, yeah, I’ve heard about you, what brought you to our hall?”

We were walking alongside him, we were so far away from the actual picnic you’d think Nathan had arrived with us. The guy went on for a bit about how he pioneered back home, was the son of an elder and even that one of his uncle’s was a governing body helper back in Bethel. But he came to our hall after moving in with his grandmother, who was sickly and could only listen to the meetings through the phone.

“Oh! You’re sister Paulson’s grandson!”

“Yeah, I’m helping her a lot right now. She needs assistance with groceries and the like. I make sure the house is clean and help her with letter writing for field service.”

“Oh, Kai just started doing letter writing for the first time, haven’t you Kai?”

“Yep.” I could see the picnic in the near distance, brothers and sisters setting up plates and laying out food on the tables while kids ran around and played with sticks and bubbles and inflated balls. Patricia was tossing a filthy white volleyball to two kids when she turned around and caught my eye, and she beamed when she saw Alan by my side.

“Oh, I could give you some great tips, Hezekiah.” Nathan chuckled at me. I continued to ignore him.

“Don’t mind my brother.” Lorrie piped up, getting closer to Nathan so she could chat him up next. “He stayed up all night watching TV with Alan.”

“Oh man, I miss those days. To be a kid again.”

“I ain’t a kid.”

“Sure, sure.” He laughed, like I actually was just a kid to him. The nerve of that guy.

About twenty feet away, I saw Sister Dearcy getting a coke from the cooler. I quickly said something about wanting to go tell her about my job, and booked it out of there.

Alan followed behind, I waved to Sister Dearcy and the sweet woman made her way onto the grass to meet me.

“Kai! How’s my favorite little brother doing?” She acknowledged Alan. “Sorry, my two favorite brothers.”

“Great! I started working at the arcade!”

“Oh see, child? Prayer does work!”

“You said it, Sister Dearcy!”

“Sister, how’s Professor Mittens doing?” Alan asked, apparently being privy to a pet of Sister Dearcy’s that I didn’t even know she had.

“Oh, it looks like we’re gonna have to put him down sadly. But he’s 18 years old, he’s had a good long life for a cat.” Damn, not only did I not know she had a cat but the poor thing is on its deathbed too.

“Awh, I’ll come see him before he’s ready to pass on then. Mind if I bring him a can of tuna?”

“Bring him whatever you want, dear! I been spoiling him mad since we got the news. We gotta make his last days as enjoyable as can be!”

“I didn’t even know you had a cat, Sister, I’m sorry about him though.”

“Oh, Alan comes by to see him every other Saturday, don’tchu, Alan?”

“Well, I go help with mowing the lawn and picking weeds around the house, Professor Mittens just keeps an eye on me and makes sure I do a good job.”

“And you always do!” She rubbed his shoulder affectionately, I smiled. Alan was so damn sweet. When’s the last time I offered to help the elderly friends in the congregation? I paled in comparison to the kind of man Alan was, in every respect.

I didn’t envy him though. I loved him.

I wished he could love me too, in the same way.

We moved on in the day. After a round of kickball in the field with some other teens and a couple older brothers, we sat down for a snack on the lake, me and Alan and this little blonde kid who wouldn’t stop following us around, little “Jake-the-Cake” as he kept calling himself.

The kid was playing in the water, his mother being far too trusting of us to keep her son out of trouble. But Jake-the-Cake hadn’t caused horrible injury to himself or anyone else yet, so we relaxed and ate our smoked ham sandwiches in tandem.

“The poor Professor.” I muttered out, Alan nodded.

“He’s an old boy, just how things go in this world.”

“You think Sister Dearcy will see him again in paradise?”

He tried not to laugh. “I wish animals could get resurrected. But I guess Jehovah can really only make room for people, can’t he?”

“Yeah, guess it wouldn’t be fair. Least we got each other forever though.”

“Yeah.” He looked at me, happy. I reached for his hand, caressed the top with my palm as we shared that moment of connection, uninterrupted, until…

“You guys ain’t going to paradise.” Jake pointed to us. I scowled at the kid.

“What makes you say that?”

“Cause you’re gay, and gay people don’t go to paradise.”

I moved my hand away from Alan’s. “What makes you think we’re gay?”

“You’re two boys and you’re holding hands, that makes you gay!”

“Quiet down, no need to be saying stuff like that.” Alan gave a hushing motion, hoping he could redirect the kid to less antagonizing things he could be shouting by the lake.

“Gay! GayGayGayGayGayGayGay!” He was on a rampage now, spinning in a circle, hardly understanding the words coming from his own little mouth. “Gay people are gonna die! Gay people don’t get to paradise! Gay people are stupid!”

To my shock, Alan got up, grabbed the kid by the shoulder and knelt down to his level before looking him in the eyes and saying sternly, “that’s not for you to decide. That’s not for any human to decide. Only Jehovah determines who’s going to paradise and who doesn’t.”

“But Jehovah says it’s bad to be gay!”

“And is your name Jehovah?” He nearly stumped him, I could tell the kid was deciding his next words carefully.

“Gay! Gay gay gay!” He ripped away from Alan’s grasp and ran off towards the lake again, tripping on a rock and falling face first into the cold wet below.

His first sounds upon lifting his head up out of the water were not ill-informed ventings about gay people, but a blood curdling cry for his mom.

“Mommy! Moooommy!” He ran back in the direction of the picnic, Alan turned to me and looked ashamed of himself.

I wasn’t too bothered. “Kids are suicide machines, ain’t they?”

“You don’t think I was too harsh?”

“Hey, not like you threw him in the water. He got what he deserved.”

I took a bite of my sandwich. He shrugged. “He’s just a kid, he’s got no clue what he was saying.”

“And you corrected him best you could.” I shrugged right back, and patted my hand down where he had been sitting just a few minutes prior. “You ain’t his mom.”

Alan wasn’t sitting down, he was still standing, holding himself with crossed arms and looking out over the lake.

“Maybe we are a bit too touchy with each other, Kai.”

“Come on, Alan, we’re close friends. Friends can touch each other.”

“But, when we touch,” his breath shook, “it’s not like touching family, or touching a friend it’s more like… Fire.”

My heart started dancing when he said it. “Fire?”

“Warm, inviting but, wrong. Like I’ll hurt you, or you’ll hurt me.”

I put down my sandwich, put the plate to the side, and got up to walk over to him. I wanted to hug him, tell him it was fine, but I didn’t touch him. “You’re my best friend, Alan.”

“And you’re mine too, Kai, but…” He gulped. “You know I’m struggling with my sexuality right now.”

“I would never let things go too far between us.”

“Would you? Because it feels like you don’t want to take this nearly as seriously as you should.”

“I, I trust you though.”

“I know myself more than you do, I know there’s a line and I know if we haven’t crossed it then we will eventually.”

“What are you saying then?”

“I’m saying we need to be careful. About what we do, how it’s perceived by others, regardless of our own feelings. What if we seriously stumble someone?”

“Stumble who? That dumb little kid who doesn’t even know what gay means?”

“We could stumble ourselves, Kai. If we haven’t already.”

I was trying to keep myself from getting upset. I considered just turning around and walking away, but he already started to do that exact thing before I could even respond.

“I love you, Alan.” I said behind his back. I saw him nod from behind his shoulder; I knew it meant he loved me too.

He grabbed his plate from off the bench, and turned to me. “I’m gonna go hang out with the friends, I’ll see you later, Kai.”

“Sure.” I waved goodbye, and returned to my spot on the bench as he walked away.

My heart was torn nearly in two. I felt like I just got broken up with, the subject of my affection letting me down easy but letting me down regardless.

I looked back at the picnic, Alan was chatting with Patricia, she was holding a can of soda pop and twirling her hair while she looked up into his brown eyes.

I envied her at that moment, because if she fell in love with him then that would be fine, she could be open and honest about her feelings and he could reciprocate them if he was inclined. But I knew he wasn’t inclined, he would never be inclined.

But he was inclined towards me. He felt that fire with me, not with her.

And she could have him if she wanted him. But I couldn’t even speak of my affection for him. It was a sin.

I turned my attention to Nathan, who had paired off with Lorretta somewhere not far from the picnic. They were talking, he was putting a flower in her hair and she was giggling.

And as much as I hated Nathan, he could be with Lorretta. He could hold her hand and kiss her and marry her and that was fine because she was born one way and he was born another way.

And I felt for Alan with far more intensity than I was sure Nathan could have conjured up after meeting my sister only twice, yet if they wanted to, they could get married.

But I could never marry the man I loved, because we were born the same.

#ex believer #ex catholic #ex jw #ex christian #ex mormon #exjw

8 notes · View notes