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Wake up, you're alive. We're on your side.
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| Crazy Muse has bitten me. The teeth marks are EVERYWHERE. Popcorn from our house microwave is pretty crappy. Um...I should be in bed. Honestly.
Mommy's not dead. Daddy's not dead.
Brucie's--
( not dead. ) | comments: Who wants an enemy?   |
| He feels so much in just a handful of seconds.
There's the familiar, local sense of desperation while his life is in balance--and old friend of a sensation. There's shame because he's following through with his plan, and he almost wants to enjoy the flush, delicious delight that comes when he starts connecting with the crowbar. There's pity, obviously. And then enlightenment, which isn't as assuring and encompassing as he'd always expected it to be.
There's a blade sticking through his chest and he hadn't even felt it go in. He hadn't even seen it coming. The realization that it had completely slipped past him--as easily as it had slipped into him--comes with a memory of his father. Dad, oh God!
Tim feels the unfairness of it all, for despite all of the obstacles in Jason's life, the boy never once had to watch his father die.
It's something Tim shares with Bruce, with Dick. It's something he doesn't want to share, but it's also something that Jason can't take away. That twisted, gloating stare doesn't bother the injured for that single reason.
Tim feels so much.
He feels so little.
Then nothing.
Surprise. He feels...surprise. With waning thoughts of Jack, Tim expects to have met the other immediately. Death had come faster than any clinging curiosity of whether or not he'd find Kon, or Bart or mom on the other side.
But they're not there. Just...
Bruce.
Tim feels surprise, but he doesn't feel shame. He knows the shame should be there, but it's not. I failed. I died. I came right on your heels and I know you would have expected better of me but...
But no shame.
Bruce!
And finally, the other turns. And there's no feeling there either.
No. It's not distressed. It's not sad or commanding. It's just 'No.' It's not your time.
Tim catches the traces of jealousy. There's a part of him that is feeling cheated. Finally, he's found the other. In this impossible to reach place, he's finally caught Bruce hiding. Now the other can come back. Now Batman and Robin can be together.
No.
And then Tim feels again. There's a brief congestion of emotions, before he settles on empty.
Drained, alone--No.
Alive. | | comments: 3 bleed together. or Who wants an enemy? |
| I meant to post this half a year ago, but I finally got the picture off of my cell phone.
You know why this is amusing. But please, don't go calling them up. A certain hacker will take all of your money if you annoy them...
 | | comments: 2 bleed together. or Who wants an enemy? |
| I got in the habit of staying up late reading old fanfics. I truly miss the gems from the "five things..." memes, so in the hope that I can relive the magic, I'm opening up for suggestions.
If it's something I can write, I will try it. If you want to ask about our female heroes from the Moon Rescue-fic, I will do it. I'll hopefully have the full version done soon, as well.
Jason, Jedi and Julies are open game. :P | | comments: 16 bleed together. or Who wants an enemy? |
| The road ends and we are there.
They give us everything we've ever wanted.
Occupy.
There is a person for each of us. Ideal, and understanding. Their appearance is flawless, as if we had always dreamed them to be this way without ever actually explaining to ourselves how the hair falls, or the eyes lie. But the hair is correct, and the eyes are perfect. If we were to ask for more or less, there would be no feelings hurt, and it will be done.
Will you love me if--
Will you love me if--
And the answer will always be the same.
No minding. Complete compliance. We have earned this.
Our flawed little struggle, a life of near-misses and reluctant sacrifice. The road ends, and we arrive here together.
There is warmth. Music. I know this tune as if I had chased it my whole life just to hear it here and now, uninterrupted. Comfort could well be the name of this place. Comfort and safety. They know us, better than we know ourselves. The hand holds mine before I even ask for it.
There is a promise of security and truth. We are welcome here, and they have waited. For us!
I see you smile, and you are holding nothing back. It is new for me to see you smile like this. My heart here knows that every other smile of yours, no matter how cherished, had not been this complete. You belong here.
The others, too, are told of just how much they belong. We all belong.
And I belong.
The hand lets go before I ask, "are we free to leave?"
"You are free to leave, at anytime," I am told. The voice hurts, because I have dreamed of this voice. How could they know that I've dreamed of this voice?! "You are also free to stay, for any length of time."
Informed, I retract and turn to leave. The way we came, of the ending road. I can reverse that. It can go the other way.
My person, my other--I feel them watch. They do not attempt to contest this, since that is not their way. I'm meant to be happy.
Am I? I have to ask. I take each step without knowing why. Each subsequent motion gets harder, and yet I'm driven to avoid explaining why.
Do I not deserve this? Do I know something of myself which prevents me from staying? Why must I always destroy the things that love me so?!
"Hey!"
I am brought up short, some distance away. It is a fraction distance, though. We have traveled much farther in our lives, you and I.
And there we are.
You wear the confusion on your face, the same kind dwelling within me. I imagine that I am a calm surface; a lie chiseled in stone.
"Are you not happy here?" you ask, truly wondering. "This is everything you've ever wanted."
And you, of all people, would know.
Answering takes effort. I return a question. "If this is everything you've wanted, why concern yourself with me?"
You hang in that moment, and it is the most perfect moment I think I have ever had with you. The words, somewhere between us, have summoned a service of enlightenment.
Your shoulder is the most real thing in the world, more so than their offerings. More than any eternal promises. I want to shed tears, and the urge is overwhelming.
"My friend, outside with the knowledge that you would part from your paradise to worry after me...I am happier now, than I was a moment ago. I can't explain why, but thank-you, nonetheless."
The road ends and we are here. Here.
And now, I know: It's not the rewards at the end, but the end to the rewards.
I know not where I'll go, or whether you will follow. It is your choice, and I blame you not for being yourself. We had that moment, though. And many others.
Thanx. | | comments: 8 bleed together. or Who wants an enemy? |
| Ah, Jay would be so proud. He's not the only slumdog to find wings...
If you didn't get the chance to see Slumdog Millionaire, it's definitely worth checking out. The movie is incredibly sharp.
Sharp wit. Sharp terrors. Sharp colours. Sharp successes. Sharp sounds.
| | comments: 2 bleed together. or Who wants an enemy? |
| Bruce doesn't leave an explanation.
Dick would keep searching. Tim would worry. Kal would wonder why, or if, or how it could be undone.
And perhaps...perhaps Bruce had said nothing because he wants Dick to search--be the one to find him. Or Tim needs that extra push without the safety net--the coming into his own. Because Kal would wonder anyhow, needing a taste of what it felt like when he himself had left them all--when he left Bruce.
No. Or maybe...
No.
It's really a lot more simple. More obvious.
Bruce leaves nothing behind because he knows that they already know his set of expectations. Always, they've known it.
And always, they'll preform it. If not with him at their side, then at least in his honour.
They'll hold the line.
♠
Pilate's "Hold the Line" | | comments: 8 bleed together. or Who wants an enemy? |
| Tags: | drabble | | Current Music: | Flashbulb | | Subject: | Sitting | | Time: | 12:56 am | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/niaha/kitty/anktiredg.gif) disastisfied |
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| Not quite the idea I thought it would be. This is an attempt at writing for a bit. It didn't come full circle like I'd hoped, but I can't quite bring myself to delete it. I took a verse from 365 Yao: Daily Meditations and attempted to spin it into a reactionary piece regarding the RIP storyline.
Stupid Morrison.
( Dick and Zen. ) | | comments: 10 bleed together. or Who wants an enemy? |
| Oh Tim, you'll come home when I'm not so tired. There will be words. There will be so many words.
Until then, I scribbled out a poem the other night. My God, I know! And it's so high school quality. I laugh at me.
( xkDC? ) | | comments: 2 bleed together. or Who wants an enemy? |
| Tags: | random | | Current Music: | Community Radio (the Muslim hour?) | | Subject: | God's Notebook | | Time: | 11:32 am | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/niaha/kitty/anksadg.gif) sick |
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| For all created sentience, a few questions emerge. Was I created with flaws? The answer becomes a natural and resounding 'yes.' So what then?
For most creatures, a lifelong attempt is made to explore and identify these flaws. For humans, there is an extra step.
"What are my flaws?" and "How do I hide them?"
(This is probably the greatest error in their making.)
...and Tim, Tim's good at hiding. <--yes, obviously I'll work him in somewhere. | | comments: Who wants an enemy? |
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Wake up, you're alive. We're on your side.
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