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punkeropercyjackson · 18 days

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Sparks:Secret Origins(1983-1989)

An experimental run that got made to try out what it would be like for Clark to adopt a kid and make them his sidekick,which ran for 66 issues

The unlucky lucky kid in question was Summer Kent/'Frankie Garcia' being his birth name given to him by the abusive Mayerlin Garcia and deadbeat Sebastián Garcia.One of his first memory's was seeing him for the first time at 3 years old and exchanging a wave and a smile with him and from that day on,'Frankie' became Superman's number one fan and after realizing his parents didn't actually love him and having no friends at school either thanks to 'her' tomboyishness,mixed afrolatina heritage and multiple undiagnosed neurodivergent disorders,he started dreaming he'd save him from them

On his 10th birthday and our intro to him,Lex killed his parents while on a rampage across the city in a giant Lexcorp robot by slamming them onto the side of a building so hard they died on impact and knocked 'Frankie' out so he could kidnap him to make him half Kryptofang,using the dna of the last surviving one that escaped Krypton just as Clark did and had hidden in Dominican Republic until Lex found it on a trip and had it killed to be used for experimentation.Kryptofangs were the kryptonian equivalent to dragons but with the add on of telepathy and considered culturally equal to regular kryptonians with a long history of allyship and community between them,a metaphor for Summer's biracial identity and Clark's black monoracial one

After three days at a Lexcorp lab,'Frankie's' greatest wish came true as Superman saved him and adopted him after some bonding when he brought him to his,Lois' and a baby Jon's apartment,their old house to collect their belongings and the Fortress of Solitude to gather Kryptofang info.Jimmy and Lana became his honorary uncle and aunt and Lana his homeschool teacher too since Clark and Lois pulled him out of public school to avoid him getting bullied and upon meeting Superman for the first time,'Frankie' turned into 'Summer' when asked for his name as he wanted nothing from his birth parents and choose his new name because that's the season he discovered Clark all that time ago.His sidekick name was 'Sparks',both because of his pyrokinesis and as a reference to his new family being sparks of hope in his life.Lex did a smear campaign against him to cover up what he'd done to him and it made Summer angrier,meaner and more violent than ever and earned the derogatory nickname 'Superpunk'(ofc Clark,Lois and Jimmy still did their best to combat it as reporters)

Sparks' gender was a mystery to the public and nobody dared to ask or make inappropriate speculations since his dad is y'know,Superman.Summer straight up demanded to help raise Jon and refused to give in to his parents nos so they let him have his way and taught him how to care for him.A year into their sidekick careers,Summer met Jason when Bruce and Clark brought them on a Justice League mission on the same day and they instantly butted heads because of having opposite personalities but by the end of the operation,they were best friends and the other's first friend and 'Basket case!''Bird boy!!' turned into 'Basket Case and Bird Boy' as affectionate nicknames and their duo name that kinda caught on.Summer was Jason's reconnection to blackness and latino heritage and he had mixed feelings on it by a complex childhood but he helped him really take pride in it like Clark and Lois did them

They did tons of 'normal' childhood things together in addition to superheroics and Summer flew to Gotham and Jason to Metropolis for hangouts on a regular basis.Clark asked Dick and Kory to mentor him and Summer started crushing on Dick on sight much to [Summer's] mortification because he couldn't hide his feelings in the slightest bit but he was never a pick me about Kory and instead had a healthy intergenerational friendship with her and also with Selina,which is where his love of cats comes from.Eddie was also a part of his friend group and them and Jason dubbed themselves 'The Magic Trio' and the only reason Eddie didn't hang out with them as much as they did eachother is Summer was exhausting himself to dangerous levels by flying to Hollywood regularly too and he had to beg them to stop for their own good.Summer developed more powers as the years went on,including infrared vision that turned his entire eyes hot pink,roaring and more dragonic body features that're retractable and used for gags sometimes.Summer's fear toxin vision is Jason and Clark dying in action and Jason's is Summer and Eddie deciding they never want to be his friend again,fueled by his 'the loser kid' status at Gotham Academy but also previous abandonment issues

Clark and Lois are the best parents Summer ever could and did ask for.Clark trained him throughly but never beyond his limits and always had snacks and a drink for him and Lois taught him to never back down no matter who tried to stop him and they both showered him in literally every love language and a secret sixth one:Chaos privileges.They let him do whatever he wanted as long as it didn't hurt anybody and he ran his mouth to everyone and everything,went anywhere he wanted if he had proper protection(like Jason,Eddie or an adult)and consumed any media he felt like with no judgement.This might've messed up some kids but Summer's 'special'(Read:Autistic with several additional mental shit and a kryptonian dragon hybrid).He calls them 'Papí y Mamí' and their nicknames for him are pretty much everything latino but the unique ones are 'Mi Luz Kryptoniana' from Clark and 'Verana' from Lois and Lois' canon adhd and dyslexia gave them a special connection like the kryptonian one

Summer finally had his bi awakening at 14 via Dick and Kory and called up Jason in panic so he could tell it to someone to face only for Jason to laugh hysterically in his face and Summer to scream pinkfaced at him to shut up and got his vegeance a few weeks later when Eddie turned out to be Jason's.The Magic Trio are autistic4autistic4autistic friendship realness and never got an official diagnosis because they found out by just googling shit together and also t4t4t4t but Jason and Eddie were early birds-Jason dosen't even really remember thinking he was a girl-while Summer was a painfully oblivious transmasc genderfluid and bigender egg with so much gender fuckery going on even two trans boy best friends,a t4t couple for parents AND fuckin' Dickkory for mentors didn't crack him.He was even goth punk!(The Superfam are all comrades /hj)

Jason used to help babysit Jon and had a pretty good relathionship with Clark and Lois too,them calling him 'Argonauta' and 'Curita' for his namesake.Summer'd hospitalized three of Lex's employes at this point but he's getting there /lh.Jason was positive influence on him with his happy go lucky attitude and softness,slowly making him more of an 'ideal' hero

When Jason was 15,he realized he'd fallen in love with Summer because Dick spotted it first and helped him realize it by comparing them to him and Kory and obviously he instantly entered denial mode because that's his best friend since they were 11 but it all adds up too much and denial turns into embarrasment turns into attempts at unspoken rizz.Jason uses the 'Shall i compare thee to a summer's day?' sonnet since Shakespeare is the only classical author Summer likes and he pretends to not be affected by it but internally he's blushing glowing but this is one among many to get him to make the first move and their relathionships grows even cuddlier thanks to it(including Jason diy'ing his own Sparks shirt to impress his anti-capitalist crush and creating a new slushie flavor all on his own that's cotton candy,berryblast and has chocolate and strawberry chips on top for them to share that becomes an official at Dairy Super)but Dick convinces him to ask Summer out to a Gotham Academy dance as a fullblown confession without much coersion needed

We all know what comes next but it's far from the end of Summer or Jason or their story!Here is a Summerverse Clois pic for your troubles♡

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sigmoon · 5 months

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hio <3 !! im so in love w ur nikolai & his mama posts, theyre too sweet (∩ ⸝⸝ ∩) !! i have to know, what do u think baby kolya was like?

Thank you so much, Mai <3 and this ask is so cute :(

Nikolai was the most adorable baby/toddler imaginable! I think he was one of those babies that smile at anyone they make eye contact with, whether it was his mama or a stranger. Did the classic cute baby stuff like shoving his feet into his mouth, having the squishiest cheeks and adorable, chubby thighs, cooing and reaching his arms for mommy when she walks by, and trying to grab people’s cheeks or nose when he’s being held.

Also a real chatterbox, blabbering all day, showing everyone his toys, and being very proud of them. He also used to force ask people really nicely whether they could read something to him, taking one of his picture books and waddling up to them, holding the book out with an excited smile.

When he started to learn how to properly talk, his mom got a lot of headaches, because he just never seemed to run out of energy or things to talk about.

Always tried to eat sand or dirt or put leaves in his mouth when he got the chance to (a+ immune system) and he made „food“ out of sand and mud and got all pouty and teary-eyed when the adults didn’t want to eat it.

He was such a sweetheart, but also kept his poor mom busy at all times, especially when he started walking, he kept running away and she needed to hurry after her son, trying to catch him before he got lost (he regularly lost his mom in stores and the manager needed to make an announcement for his mother to come pick him up.)

Tried out different hair styles on his mom, but they all ended up looking like a bird’s nest.

Sticky hands. Always.

For some reason, I feel like baby Kolya was friends with more girls than boys, and loved the things that girls stereotypically liked to play, e.g. playing dress-up or playing with dollhouses and I feel like he didn’t go to the classic „girls are stupid“ phase. Their moms were so in love with him as well, gushing over the little boy when his mom came to pick him up after his play dates.

Often painted doodles on his face with permanent markers, or he tried to imitate his mother putting on makeup with those, and because they were so hard to wash off, he had to walk around for days with his face looking like a Jackson Pollock painting.

When his dad was around, which rarely happened, he stuck his tongue out at him or started screeching when he tried to hold him. He really didn’t like him and always tried to protect his mom from his deadbeat dad (I don’t think he was abusive, just a massive loser who’s a bad father and partner.)

Overall, he was a really energetic baby and toddler, but also so, so sweet and affectionate, and especially fond of his mom, although he probably wasn’t a shy child, unafraid to chitchat with strangers, too.

(Not a baby headcanon, but I think Nikolai was one of those boys that don’t have a huge growth spurt or show very obvious signs of puberty until they turn eighteen and then they suddenly look like a grown man overnight.)

#chit chat #mai♥︎#bungou stray dogs #bsd #nikolai gogol #nikolai headcanons #bsd nikolai #fics 📖#🕊️

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graaid · 3 years

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After nearly 36 years of cold hard denial, Arthur Morgan realizes he likes men. Don't get him wrong, he likes women too, but he's been crushing over Charles since his arrival, and he wants to tell him that he likes him more as just a fellow gang member. But that requires a lot of mental effort.

(Entire fic (don’t worry it’s a oneshot) under the cut, but if you’d like to leave a comment/kudos on AO3 I’d really appreciate it!!)

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky over Clemens Point when the members of the Van Der Linde gang woke up. Lenny and Kieran were, of course, the first ones up and active, ready to prove themselves to the rest of the gang.

The smoke hadn’t even begun rising from the main campfire when Arthur got out of bed. Out of everyone in the gang, he was somehow the most and least punctual; he may show up to a robbery late, but he’ll always wake up at 6:30 am every day, even if he had gone to bed at 3 am that night. Thankfully, this early rising habit gave him the time to get his chores and other tasks done so he could have a little relaxation time later.

“G’morning Arthur, have a good night?” Charles called from his tent as he stretched and started to weave a feather into his long black hair.

“Ughhhh, as good as it’ll ever be,” Arthur groaned, hiding just the tiniest of blushes. Arthur knew he shouldn’t be so gruff with the other members of the gang, but being the no-nonsense uncle of the family had more or less become his thing over the past few years, especially with all the younger folk joining. He had been trying to cut down on the cynicism lately, but sometimes the jokes just write themselves. He figured he should probably leave the joke making to Sean, or at least the assholishness to someone like Micah.

Even though he would usually go straight to chopping wood or transporting bags of grain to Pearson’s wagon, Arthur leaned back on his bed and looked out over the camp. Strauss was nose-first in some ledger book, probably wondering where he could find his next victim to send Arthur after. Javier was tuning his guitar, no doubt readying it for another late night sing-a-long session at the campfire that evening. John was avoiding Abigail like the plague, but Arthur didn’t really blame him; it had always bothered him whenever the two of them yelled at each other. Obviously all couples fight sometimes, but the bickering had gone on so long Arthur wished he could just snap his fingers and have them become a happy couple again, if they had ever been one in the first place.

Arthur’s eyes wandered over to the tiny dock with it’s equally tiny canoe. Hosea had thought it a good idea to purchase the canoe for the camp a week or so ago, and the sight of Sean trying to stand in it and falling over comically into the lake made the purchase definitely worthwhile. It had also allowed the gang to get access to better fishing spots, which made Pearson’s stew almost edible.

That’s what I’ll do , Arthur thought, I’ll go fishing. A fish fry tonight sounds pretty good.

Getting dressed took no time at all, and walking down to the dock, making sure to give Micah an obligatory death stare was even easier. Arthur noticed John sitting on the edge of the dock, staring off into the distance, probably thinking of running off again. Probably.

“Hey John, wanna come fishin’ with me?” Arthur asked, untying the boat’s rope from the dock.

“Arthur, you know I can’t swim, right? If that little dinghy tips even a little we’re both goin’ in.”

“Then don’t tip the boat, dumbass.”

“Oh c’mon, you and I both know that’s not gonna happen.”

“Well if it does,” Arthur continued, stepping into the boat, “Your big brother Arthur will be there to drag your ass to shore.”

John rolled his eyes, sighed dramatically and stepped in the boat, shakily sitting down on one of the planks. “Fine, but if we tip… I’m allowed to look at your journal.”

“If we tip there won’t be much of a journal to look through,” Arthur chuckled, patting his back pants pocket.

Arthur, sitting in the back, pushed off from the dock and started rowing out towards one of the small islands not too far from Clemen’s Point. He’d been affectionately calling it “Bird Island”, on account of all the ducks and ravens that populated it. It was a good spot to think on any other day, but not when bringing John along.

“So Arthur, you did remember to bring bait, right?” John asked, trying not to turn around in the boat too fast, since he really honestly did not know how to swim.

“Nah, bait’s for rich folk, we’re using lures,” Arthur remarked, “Plus, it’s easier to see the shiny, pretty lures than some dumb worm.”

“You sound like a crow, Arthur.”

“Oh shut up,” Arthur replied with a hidden smirk, splashing some water with his paddle in John’s direction.

“Hey no fair, I can’t get you back there!”

“Then jump in the water and get me yourself, coward.”

Arthur didn’t need to see John’s face to know his friend was giving him the dirtiest glare. Thankfully before any revenge could be plotted, they pulled up to Bird Island.

“Alright, here we are, pick a spot and get comfy, we’re gonna be here a while.”

John grumbled in agreement and pulled a downed log to the beach so he could sit on it.

The two of them cast their lines into the water and began the waiting game, slowly reeling their lures back to the beach in hopes of catching some perch or trout.

As Arthur had imagined, John had somehow scared away all the fish. He didn’t know how, but he assumed it was something about his aura, or whatever Hosea called it, that just made it impossible to catch anything.

By the time it was noon, the two of them had only caught about 3 fish in total. Arthur didn’t especially mind though, he enjoyed days when he wasn’t robbing banks and killing innocent folk. He enjoyed his personal self-care days more, but he knew he should take what he can get.

Even from far away on this tiny island, Arthur could see some of the other gang members back on Clemens Point. He could easily make out Sean’s bright red hair as he chased after who must’ve been Mary-Beth around Pearson’s wagon, no doubt on another mission to woo her. Scanning over the edge of camp, he also spotted Charles chopping wood. Normally this wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary, but Arthur couldn’t take his eyes off of the fact that Charles happened to be chopping wood shirtless. Which he normally never does. Arthur suddenly wished he hadn’t asked John to come fishing. He couldn’t make out anything specific, but he had seen Charles shirtless once and the guy was built like a brick wall. He’d seen him knock a man out in one punch before, and the witnessing of it both scared him and made him feel just a little constricted by his pants.

Arthur must’ve been lost in thought longer than he imagined, because before he knew it, John was kicking sand at him, yelling that he had a fish on his line.

Arthur quickly diverted his attention back to his line, reeling it in and trying not to glance back over at Charles. Eventually he pulled in a 5 pound trout, so at least that came of something.

“Hey Arthur?”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve never been married, right?”

Arthur laughed, “God no, John. This life ain’t really one that allows for much marrying and settling down.”

“But you’ve had… relationships before, right?”

Arthur reeled back his line and sat down next to John on the log. “Is there something you want to talk to me about, Marston?”

John scooted over a bit to give Arthur more room on the log and reeled his line back in as well.

“I… I don’t know Arthur,” John started, “It’s just that, like, I know Abigail and I have been fighting pretty much since we met, it’s just… I thought we would’ve figured it out by now, even just for the sake of Jack, but it just seems to be getting worse every damn day!”

Arthur grimaced. Relationship trouble was never his strong point, but he’d at least try for the sake of his friend.

“Well, you have tried talkin’ it out, right?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah of course,” John continued, “It just never seems to be the right time to talk. We’re just always doing something else, and when we do have free time to talk it just… never feels right, or we just don’t agree.”

“Oh c’mon, you must agree on something.”

“Yeah, that I’m a miserable no-good deadbeat dad.” John chuckled, resting his head in one of his hands.

Arthur sighed and looked out over the water. He knew John didn’t really mean that, even if Abigail’s point had some validity. It’s hard having a relationship in a life like this, you never know if the person you love is going to return that night. It must weigh pretty heavily on Abigail every time John goes out, not knowing whether to tell their son now or later that his daddy might not ever come back.

“Y’know John, I think I have the opposite problem from you,” Arthur observed, “You’ve got someone who cares too much about you, while I’ve got someone who I’m not even sure cares about me.”

John picked his head up from his hands. “You do? You mean that Mary girl?”

Arthur chuckled and looked back at camp where he spotted Charles, unsurprisingly hard at work, “No, this one’s a little different.”

“Is it one of the girls in camp? You know I’d support you but you are a bit… old compared to them.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Close, but no.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Arthur could tell John was really thinking hard.

“Jesus, Marston, I know I’m dumb but you’re really pushing the bar. It’s Charles, okay? Don’t think too much harder, you’ll break somethin’.”

There was another beat of silence.

“Charles, like the one working with us?” John hesitantly asked.

Arthur’s silence told John all he needed to know.

“Huh,” John began, “I uh… never thought you, y’know, swung that way.”

“Me either,” Arthur admitted, taking a drink from his water flask, “But it took me nearly 36 years to figure it out, so don’t go telling me it’s fake or nothing. I did like all those girls I dated, but I just never really clicked with them, I suppose.”

John chuckled. “Well I guess it makes sense you’re the way you are. You probably rubbed off on me, certainly explains the eyes I’ve been making at Javier lately.”

Arthur almost choked on his water. “Say that again cowboy, you’ve been WHAT at Javier?”

John picked up a stick and began drawing in the sand with it. “Eh, it’s nothing really, Arthur, nothing really at all, it's just that… sometimes when Abigail and I fight I just want to run away with someone new, y’know?”

“Oh no you don’t,” Arthur smirked, wrapping his arm around John’s shoulder, “I ain’t gonna let you run out on us again, you’d find me cold in the ground first!”

John beamed back one of his rare sunshine-y smiles. “Aww, I guess big old tough Arthur Morgan actually does have a heart inside afterall!”

“Don’t push your luck, kid,” Arthur replied, standing up to cast his line out again, “You ever gonna tell Javier how you feel?”

“You gonna ever tell Charles how you feel?”

“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Hey, maybe Charles can give you a little pain in the ass, if you know what I m-”

“Marston you shut your trap before I drown you myself!” Arthur half-jokingly reprimanded, kicking some sand at his adopted brother.

A bit of time passed. Arthur happened to catch 4 more perch, and John devoted the rest of their time on the island to picking some herbs and flowers, knowing that his skills as a fisherman were almost completely useless.

By the time the sun was going down, John returned with a bundle of burdock root and purple flowers.

“Hey uh, Arthur?”

“Hm?”

“Are you ever uh, gonna actually tell Charles or anyone else at camp how you feel?”

Arthur sighed and packed up his fishing pole. “Probably not. It took most of my effort just now to tell you because I knew I could trust you, so you’d imagine what it’d be like to tell someone like Micah, let alone Dutch and Hosea.”

“Aren’t Hosea and Dutch together?” John asked, packing his herbs and flowers into the boat.

“Haha, very funny Marston, they’re just good friends, they’ve been that way for a long time. I would’ve thought you would know that.”

“Well that’s certainly strange, I never knew “good friends” kissed each other on the mouth.”

Arthur stopped what he was doing. “Dutch and Hosea? They’re a… a thing? I thought Dutch and Molly… Hold on a second…”

John wholeheartedly laughed. “Jesus, Arthur, I thought I was slow to get things but I think you just broke the world record for ‘slowest time a man’s taken to figure out his adopted fathers are homosexuals’. All those smart reflexes went to your Deadeye skills instead, huh?”

“Alright now I’m going to drown you in your sleep instead.”

“I’d like to see you try,” John beamed, hopping into the boat, almost tipping it over, “Plus, if you kill me now, who’s gonna help you kick Micah’s ass when you come out to everyone?”

Arthur turned his head away so John couldn’t see his smile. “Let’s just get back to camp first and give these fish to Pearson. I’m almost terrified to see what he does with them.”

Arthur and John rowed back to Clemen’s Point with minimal water damage to their clothing, at least on accident. John, apparently moved by Arthur’s mini-therapy session, made a beeline to Abigail and gave her the bouquet of purple flowers he had picked. Arthur could see her blush all the way from the dock.

“Had fun on your fishing trip, Arthur? I’m surprised you convinced John to come out with you on the water.” Hosea, sitting under a tree, book in hand, called out to Arthur as he made his way to Pearson’s wagon.

“Yeahhhh it was alright; John and I got to talkin’ about some stuff, and we caught some pretty good fish, so expect them in the stew a few weeks from now.”

Hosea grimaced, scrunching his nose. “Can’t wait for Pearson to overcook them too. Oh well, at least we’ll have something to eat.”

Arthur cracked a smile and sat down next to his adopted father under the tree.

“Hey Hosea?”

“Hm?”

“Are you and Dutch, y’know…?” Arthur asked, making a lot of vaguely suggestive motions with his hands, none of which Hosea could gather meant anything literally, but he understood what Arthur was getting at.

“Heh, well I was sure it was going to come out at some point,” Hosea said, closing his book and resting it on his lap, “Yes, Arthur, the two men who have raised you since you were 13 are indeed romantically involved with each other.”

Arthur leaned back on the tree. “Huh, I guess it makes sense. I just… I just wanted to make sure Marston wasn’t lying ta’ me again, y’know?”

Hosea chuckled, brushing his gray hair back into its place. “Oh don’t you worry Arthur, John doesn’t need to lie; and I don’t mean any disrespect, but I’m surprised it took you this long to catch on.”

“Eh, well, I’ve got my mind on other things, I guess.”

“Oh? Do you need to talk about something?”

“Not really,” Arthur began, “I mean… it’s just that…”

Hosea placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “It’s okay son, take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

Arthur felt a tear well up in his eye. Between his two adopted fathers, Hosea had always been the one that Arthur knew he could come to with his non-outlaw related problems. Maybe it was his calm, almost flamboyant mannerisms, but it made Arthur, and he was sure plenty of the other members of the gang too, feel like you could trust him like a father.

“I… I’ve been thinkin’. About… things…”

“What kind of things?”

“Well, love things, I guess. ‘Cause I mean… I’m getting up in years, and I look at people like John with Abigail and Jack, and you and Dutch, and I just keep wonderin’ when I’m gonna meet someone, y’know?”

“Ah, those kinds of problems,” Hosea mused, scratching his chin, “I remember being your age and thinking the same things. Even when I was with Bessie I was thinking those same things. It’s hard to know when you’ve found ‘The One’, Arthur. I loved Bessie, I really did, and I thought she was my One for a long time, but there’s something about Dutch that I just clicked with all those years ago that I could never get enough of. So now I’m here, with the rest of ya’ trying to make sure you all don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

Arthur nodded his head and started drawing in the dirt with a twig.

“But that’s enough about my sordid old past,” Hosea continued, “Is there something that’s happened that made you think about all this?”

“Well yeah, I told you, I’m getting up there in age and-”

“No, I heard that Arthur, I mean is there someone you’ve met that’s made you feel this way?”

There was a brief moment of silence. “Yes.” Arthur muttered.

“Do I know them?”

“Mhm.”

“It isn’t John, is it? I know you two are pretty close, but I’m not sure how… close.”

“What? God no, Hosea, it’s not like that,” Arthur proclaimed, looking around to make sure no one was listening in, “It’s… Charles. Charles, like the one we work with, the one over there.”

Arthur pointed over to where Charles and some of the rest of the gang were hanging around the main campfire. It had become dusk by now, and the gentle orange light from the fire made Charles’s dark skin look like it was glowing.

“Hm I see,” noted Hosea, “Have you told him how you feel?”

Arthur snickered, “Y’know, John asked me the same question earlier. I didn’t even know you and Dutch were together, so no, I haven’t.”

“Well whenever you want to, I’ll be behind you.”

“Thanks… dad.”

“Oh come now Arthur, you don’t have to get all mushy on me, just be confident and speak from the heart and you’ll have no trouble at all.”

Arthur sighed. “Thanks. I’ll… I’ll try to remember that.”

The rest of the evening passed normally. Pearson served everyone stew for the Nth time in a row and Uncle roused everyone’s spirits with another vaguely sexual song as they sat around the firepit. Charles was too invested in his dinner to see Arthur shooting glances at him. Arthur knew he didn’t have to tell Charles how he felt, but the constant burying of his emotions was beginning to drive him insane.

Arthur began thinking about ways he could confess his feelings. He could always ask Charles to go hunting with him, but it’d probably be a bit awkward to profess your undying love next to the corpse of a recently deceased deer, so Arthur scrapped that one. He could always just invite him to his tent and tell him there, but then Strauss, who’s tent was right next to his, would definitely hear them.

By the time Arthur came to a conclusion, everyone had settled down and were now just enjoying each other’s company around the fire. Even old Uncle, who was usually the first to a song, was silently leaning back on the grass, already half-finished with his second bottle of whiskey. Nearly everyone was there, and the thought of coming out to that many people at once frightened him, but Arthur knew he just needed to get it over and done with, then everything would be better, right?

Arthur set his mostly empty bowl down on the grass, stood up, and cleared his voice.

“Uh, everyone, I have a, uh, announcement to make.”

“You’re pregnant?” Joked Sean from the other side of the fire, causing a few giggles to be heard.

“Haha very funny Sean,” Arthur continued, rubbing his hands together, “But this is important. It’s, uh, something that I’ve been thinkin’ on for some time now, and I felt like I needed to get it off my chest.”

“Arthur, my boy,” came Dutch’s voice from behind as he sat down on the log next to his adopted son, “You aren’t leaving, are you?”

“No! No, god no, it’s not anything like that. I just… I just… I don’t know how to say it.”

“Well then just say it as simply as you can then,” Lenny piped up from next to Sean, “That usually works best for me.”

There was a short pause.

Arthur took a deep breath. “I…well… I like… men.”

The pause after Arthur spoke might’ve only been a few seconds, but to Arthur it felt like years. His eyes kept bouncing around to the other gang members, trying to read their expressions before they spoke. His eyes eventually fell on Charles, who’s expression hadn’t changed since Arthur’s announcement, although it might’ve been his imagination, but he could swear there was the faintest twinkle in his eyes.

After what felt like an eternity, the silence was broken.

“Same.” Came Bill’s hoarse but quiet voice as he took another swig of his drink. There seemed to be a collective sigh from the group.

“Jesus Arthur, I thought you was going to tell us that you were dyin’ or somethang.” Said Sean.

Arthur chuckled timidly. “Nah, you’re gonna have to wait plenty more years before you see me go down.”

“Well that’s good, son,” Came Dutch’s warm voice again, “I’m glad you got that off your chest.”

Arthur chuckled again, this time with a bit more confidence. “I mean,” he continued, “I like women too, I just wanted to say this ‘cause I didn’t want y’all to make a big fuss if you ever see me bein’ sweet on another man, y’know?”

There were lighthearted chuckles around the fire. It was pretty obvious that this whole situation was really awkward for everyone involved, but Arthur could tell that they were all at least trying to be supportive, so he sat back down and took a few more deep breaths.

Some time passed and most of the people around the fire had left to go to bed. Arthur had been feeling a lot more relaxed, now that his big secret was out, but at the same time he knew that once Micah heard about it there’d be a whole new line of harassment coming Arthur’s way. Arthur hoped that maybe, just maybe, if Micah was being an asshole to him about this issue now, that Dutch may finally come to his senses and kick the bastard out of the gang. But getting Dutch to go back on his word was like trying to tell a bird not to fly, so Arthur didn’t get his hopes up too much.

Soon enough it was nearly 2 am, and everyone figured that they may as well go to bed. As Arthur was settling down, he heard Dutch’s voice half-whisper from his tent.

“So uh, Arthur, about what you announced at the fire tonight…”

“Yeah, Dutch?”

“You mentioned bein’ sweet on a man. You found someone?”

Arthur felt his cheeks heat up fast and consciously moved his head so Dutch couldn’t see.

“No. I was just, uh, sayin’... like in the future, y’know?”

Arthur heard Dutch chuckle to himself. “Y’know Arthur, considering all the time you spend with Hosea I would’ve thought you’d be better at lying. I won’t press it though; take your time, I certainly took mine.”

Arthur heard Dutch’s tent close and breathed a sigh of relief. Coming out to everyone about his attraction to men was already a lot, coming out about which specific man he liked was just a little too much for one evening.

That night Arthur dreamed that he was looking down on three houses facing each other in a wide, open field of grass and lavender. Off to the side of the houses was a field of plants and other herbs and a small wooden chicken coop. There was a big lake not too far away with a dock and a large fishing boat. It reminded him of the area near Big Valley. Sitting on the porch of one of the houses was Dutch and Hosea in twin rocking chairs, Dutch just basking in the sun and Hosea nose deep in some book. Even from Arthur’s far away point of view, he could see a glass of something cold in Dutch’s hand. It was nice to see his fathers relaxing as opposed to what they usually have to deal with.

Sitting on the porch of the second house was John and Abigail. Abigail seemed to be showing John how to sew, who must’ve been doing a spectacularly bad job beforehand. Jack was there too; he was chasing some big golden dog around the field, throwing a big stick for the pet to catch and bring back. All three of them were smiling and laughing at some unheard joke. Arthur felt happy for them, and he wished he could be like them. Maybe someday.

Arthur looked to the porch of the third house and saw no one there. He came closer, and to his surprise, there was a tiny carving of a deer standing at the top of the steps. Next to it was a same sized carving of a wolf. Arthur felt a strange pull to the carving of the deer and he reached down to pick it up. As he did so, he saw a hand out of the corner of his eye pick up the wolf carving. As he stood back up with the deer in his hands, he saw that it was Charles who had picked up the wooden wolf. The two men were standing mere inches apart, eyes locked on each other. Arthur so desperately wanted to kiss Charles, even if this one was just a figment of an overactive and horny imagination. But instead of a kiss, Charles took Arthur’s free hand, led him up the steps of the house to the porch, and sat him down on a large wooden chair next to his own. Neither Charles nor Arthur spoke a word to each other, but the feeling of Charles’s large, warm hand on Arthur’s own as they sat and looked out over the lake together as the cool air wafted past them made Arthur feel an emotion he hadn’t felt in a long time: contentedness. The feeling was so comforting he even forgot that this was all a dreamed-up fantasy. Arthur wished he could skip having to tell Charles that he liked him and just go straight ahead to this perfect moment. But Arthur knew that he’d just have to get it over with, like with his coming out. But thankfully now, with the thought of (just) about everyone behind him, he knew he could do it.

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 #rdr1 #charthur #vandermatthews #arthur morgan #arthur rdr2 #charles smith #lgbt #graaidart #but writing this time #writing #hosea matthews #Dutch Van Der Linde #fanfiction #fanfic #trans #transgender

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beyondflashpoint · 4 years

Text

Prologue 1: Bedtime stories.

John massaged his temple. He’d been pouring through ancient tomes and cross referencing half forgotten folklore for what felt like hours. He sat back in his overstuffed chair, considered lighting a cigarette, then recalled the one unlit, currently pressed between his lips. How long had it been there? He needed a break.

“Da- ... John?” The little voice inquired from the doorway. John slowly raised his eyes.

The child had been in his care for over a year now. Looking at her now, wearing an adults band tee like a nightgown and dragging the large stuffed bat she carried everywhere, it was hard to remember how dangerous she could be.

“Well, what have we here? Little Bird escaped her cage?”

She smiled at the affectionate nickname, but there was still fear in her eyes.

John Constantine had never once thought of himself as anything close to fatherly. After all, his own dear old dad had been nothing short of a five-star bastard. But she wanted to call him dad, wanted him to be a father to her. Seeing her, putting on a brave face, but desperately craving comfort and company, it reminded him why he had taken the girl from a dying world, a dying mother, and her own five-star bastard. He moved in a way that only a concerned father can move, a delicate balance between caution so as not to startle, and haste to provide that comfort she was practically begging for. In moments he had scooped her up, cradled like a princess in his arms.

“Bad dreams again Rachael?” He asked tenderly. She nodded.

“Can’t get back to sleep then either, I take it?” She shook her head.

He pointed at he stuffed bat, now held in a chokehold by her scrawny little arms.

“Now you listen here Batsy, I told you more than once that you’re supposed to keep our girl safe.” A stern voice, usually reserved for pit fiends and people fooling with things they didn’t understand. John Constantine was upbraiding a stuffed toy. If that ever got out it’d be the end of his reputation. But bullocks to that.

“His name is Bartok. And he’s just a stuffed animal.” But she was giggling, genuine and true.

John exited the study carrying the girl back to bed. Neither noticed that the doorway which had previously opened into the foyer now deposited them on the second floor landing, a few doors down from Rachael’s bedroom. This was the House of Mystery, and it changed to suit its owner’s needs. Thankfully it knew John well enough to know that carrying a six year old child up a flight of stairs was a little excessive.

“That’s not entirely true, now is it luv? We studied totems and objects of power just last week. You’ve given him a name, and you carry him with you everywhere. Bartok is probably absolutely pulsing with magical energy. With the right focus and a solid incantation Barty could be a regular supercharged dream catcher.”

He was laying her down now, pulling the covers over her, but making sure to leave the bat’s stitch’s smile free. Rachael listened intently and nodded.

“Zatanna will be here all day tomorrow. I’m sure if you ask really nicely she’ll help you.”

“Is she doing a magic show right now?”

John smiled and nodded.

“Some of us have day jobs. You’ll want to follow her lead on that. Don’t be a deadbeat like ol’ Johnny boy.” He ended with a silly face, and was rewarded with another giggle.

“We’ll have to tell Zee to get you some proper sleepwear. I’m not sure how I feel about a six year old trundling about in a Mucous Membrane tee that’s older than Christ.”

“I like it. Zatanna says it’s the band you were in when you were a teenager. Uncle Boston let me listen to some of your songs, but he made me promise not to tell. He said there were bad words.”

“Did he now? I’ll have to have a talk with ‘Uncle Boston’ later. Punk is for your rebellious teenage years.” He smiled to show he was joking, but mentally cursed Boston Brand for starting her off with his old rubbish. “All tucked in. Close your eyes now Little Bird. Try and sleep.”

He started to stand, but the girl’s eyes doubled in size, wordlessly begging him not to go. He settled his weight once more.

“How’s about a story then?”

She immediately brightened.

“Will you tell me a Hellblazer story?”

John laughed.

“Those stories are a bit too dark for you Little Bird. When your older. Promise. I was thinking something a bit more age appropriate. With dragons.”

Her face dropped.

“A fairy tale?”

“Not exactly, luv. By all accounts this is a true story.”

She quirked an eyebrow suspiciously.

“It does begin a long time ago, in a land far away. About a thousand years ago. In a land called Nol. It was a different dimension. Nol was a peaceful kingdom, in the heights power. Arts, sciences, magic. A true utopia by all accounts. Streets of gold and all that. Actually,” he smirked, leaning onto his side, and gesturing with one hand while chanting under his breath. Sparks of gold light shot from his fingers, and after a few quick twirls, he flicked them towards the ceiling with a flourish. “Better to show than tell, innit?”

The sparks of gold fluttered and danced, multiplied, and arranged themselves into an image. Rachael gasped and watched in wide-eyed wonder that briefly made John understand Zatanna’s Copperfeild routine. Hovering above them, at an angle suited for a child to fall asleep to, the streets of Nol took shape, exactly as John pictured them when he read about them.

Polished marble walls rose ever skyward the tallest among them of height with a modern skyscraper. The streets, onyx, not gold, sloped downward in a gentle incline towards the port, and the sea beyond. All manner of strange vessels were docked there, traders and travelers from strange unknown lands. The great gates of the walled city were many, made of bronze, and flanked by the figures of many fantastic beasts. Here a griffin, there a sphinx, manticores, and many others beyond listing. The houses were of chalcedony or marble, with each their own walled gardens. No workers tools had ever touched these stones, and in fact it looked more like the stone had grown into the shapes they now held.

Of that same seemingly grown stone was the palace, directly in the city’s center. The highest of its towers dwarfed the Great Wall of Nol. And there were many towers. The palace was an opulent thing of soaring towers and impossible domed buildings, of high bridges between towers that seemed impossibly fragile from below.

The child consumed every detail with awestruck wonder.

“The people of Nol enjoyed a thousand years of peace, power, and prosperity. Now, the thing about good times is that they make people soft. See, the soldiers of Nol, save a few brave fools, had grown fat and confident. Sure there were a handful of knights and soldiers who traveled the countryside solving problems and seeking honor and all that rubbish, but mostly the good people of Nol believed nothing bad would ever happen to them.”

“And that’s exactly when something bad happened to them, right John?”

“That’s right. That’s the first lesson in this story, Little Bird. Prepare for the worst, and always expect it to get worse.” She nodded.

“And so, it was a great shock, then, when the dragon came.” The image of the city was replaced with the silhouette of a dragon, a massive thing with glowing eyes. The earth seemed to tremble at its wingbeats and Rachael gasped at the sight of it. “The Primordial Serpent, The Conqueror Wyrm, Malkior. From the east the dragon came, in the late hours after the sun had set. The beating of his mighty wings stirred the whole city to waking, and the soldiers, who were used to only marching about and yelling at rowdy kids prepared for a fight. The first fight for most of em.”

Even as he spoke, images of soldiers rushing too and fro in panicked chaos replaced that of the dragon.

“Now, the great dragon made quick work of the city’s walls, with his great claws and his mighty tail, and even quicker work of the inexperienced troopers practically throwing themselves at him. Even those brave knights who had returned to the city failed to even scratch the dragon’s mighty scales. All seemed lost for Nol, as the beast made his way towards the heart of the great city, intent on the palace and full of sinister purpose.”

Though Constantine had made sure the images were age appropriate, Rachael had pulled the covers up to her nose and was squeezing Bartok tightly.

“But, and this is the most important lesson from this story, it is always better to be clever than it is to be brave, or strong. And very luckily for Nol, there just so happened to be a very clever mage named Rorek. See Rorek had spent his whole life studying magic specially to kill Malkior. Rorek happened to be in the palace, studying magic with the king’s high mage, and when he heard the beating of those sinister wings he knew exactly what to do. Armed with naught but his personal spell book and his wits, Rorek claimed the tallest tower in the palace of Nol to face his hated foe.” The words flowing forth from John were just as magical as the scenes mirroring them to the little girl, and she fought against drooping eyelids to not miss the epic battle she knew was fast approaching.

“ The dragon reached the palace just as Rorek emerged on the tower’s roof.

‘Hark dem-“

“Do the voices.” The girl demanded in a voice laden with sleep. John could think of no reason to refuse.

“ ‘Hark demon! I am Rorek! For too long you have burned and killed and destroyed unchecked and unopposed. I oppose thee now!’” The voice he used now was softer, and a bit more proper. One might allege that he based it off one Jason Blood, though Constantine would never confirm this if pressed on it.

“ ‘Little man,’ said the dragon,” in a voice not dissimilar to Jason’s better half, “ ‘ I am the destroyer, the defiler, the conqueror. I am Malkior! I have seen worlds rise and fall, only to rise again. I have slain kings and emperors, heroes and champions. Who are you to think to stand against me?’ And Rorek stood tall and began his spells. The battle was fearsome, for Malkior too was versed in powerful and ancient magics. It seemed for every spell, hex or curse Rorek threw at Malkior, the dragon knew it’s counter. But Rorek was clever, and even while casting an unending torrent of spells, he prepared his last trick.

‘Foul beast, demon that you are, thy name does not suit thee, but nonetheless, Malkior, I call thee by thy true name, and by thy name bind thee!’

And the dragon roared with fury, lashing, thrashing and cursing even as he was pulled into Rorek’s book and bound. But with a final curse, disaster struck, and the tower which had been the scene of their epic battle was reduced to rubble, and Rorek was lost. But Nol remembered its hero, and until it’s final days celebrated the triumph of Rorek of Nol.”

As the final scene came to a close, the image faded, and the swirling cloud of golden dust dissipated and dissolved.

“So you see-“ John cut off as he turned to look at the girl and found her snoring softly.

He smiled, whispering an enchantment to ward against bad dreams, and brushing her hair back, kissed her forehead to seal the spell in place.

The barrage of vision and memory came with shocking clarity and coherence. Had he not been seated, John would have been knocked off his feet. The things he saw would haunt him for years to come.

It took time to compose himself well enough to stand, much less return to the study, where, hours later Zatanna found him, cigarette in one hand, scotch in the other.

It had been some time since Zee had seen John this upset. It was only after a second and third drink that he smoothed his unruly blond hair back, took a deep breath and spoke.

“We need to talk about Rachael. And her dreams.”

#beyond flashpoint #dcau #dc au #dc fanfic #dc constantine #john constantine #rachael constantine #rachael roth #dc raven #raven

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