Oh it must be so interesting to watch Superman (2025) and Brightburn (2019) back to back.
Brightburn is a horror movie imagining what would happen if Superman became evil, because he was actually sent to Earth by his planet to, and I quote, "Take the world".
The movie was produced by James Gunn and written by one of his brothers and his cousin.
I can't help but wonder if James Gunn thought about this when writing his latest film.
Watching the scene in which Clark discovers his parents' full message, I immediately thought that the movie in which he has known about it since he was a boy and acts accordingly actually exists. Brightburn is a good What if option for those who are interested! (And it's fun to watch.)
I had somehow never seen the movie Brightburn. It's a "dark Superman" story, which might of been why I passed it up.
During the first third, I was all in. The horror seemed to be playing on adult fears about how your child will grow up. Can you catch the signs that something is wrong? Can you parent properly? Can you prevent outside sources from corrupting them? What the hell do you do if your kid doesn't have any friends?
And there's a very obvious incel read on the film. The kid feels entitled to the whole world, he makes inappropriate advances, he hurts a girl who rejected him, he has these urges he doesn't know how to handle, he's listening to a spaceship that speaks in its own language, which he seems drawn to, and "obviously" (to me) that's meant to be the internet.
And then, at a certain point, maybe halfway through the movie, he just starts killing people, and it's a pretty stock horror film.
So I thought "wait, what" and tried to figure out whether I had read too much into the opening, or whether the horror aspects somehow tied back into the incel stuff, and ... I don't know. It's so hard to say. I was creating a movie I liked better in my head while I watched the movie that actually existed, and eventually the imagined movie and the actual movie collided, producing nothing much of value.
Pairing:RaisedWithLove!Brandon Breyer x BestFriend! Reader
AU: Not Indestructible BB
Warnings: mentions of bloods, bullying and abuse.
Author’s notes: I hope this is good! This is my first time writing properly after deleting my previous tumblr’s fan fiction blog.
Another day of the quietness in the town of Brightburn, Brandon was cooped up at his desk in the back-right of the classroom, pulling out all his books along with his worn out, flimsy pencil case he refused to replaced out from his bag.
His mother tried his hardest to replace it but he simply didn't like the looks of the cases she brought him — too 'plasticky' and 'bland', he stated repeatedly like a broken record. She just accepted it and let him stick with the pencil case that seen better days.
He tucked himself to the desk, back to the paint-peeling wall. Head against his left arm, book propped up in the direct angle his eyes can focus on the words. The same book he had found in the school’s since the start of school school.
‘Facts about Wasps and Bees.’
He memorised factual information based differences between the two Hymenoptera like it was the back of his hand. If one were to challenge him through exam papers on them, he would easily passed with flying colours.
Yet, it was the one of the things that got him made fun of. The others already had a list of things to make fun of about him.
Built with a small frame yet long lanky limbs. Skittish on his feet as ever, prominent eyes that roamed the room as quick as a cat pouncing to its owner for comfort. He embodied the look and aura of a greyhound in a human form.
They made snide remarks on his posture, the stutter he worked so hard to get rid off, his hobbies he wasn’t comfortable expressing in front of others to the teachers’ dismay.
It was bad enough that there had to be changes made to the seating plan. At first, his placement had been at the centre of the room, on the second row behind the first.
He paid no mind and focused on his learning with little sketching on the side when bored. He was considered the perfect student by few teachers. Always compliant, always answers questions when spoken to, did his homework and submit it on time. Took time to open up but when did, he was like an introverted sunflower, curious and eager to know everything about everything but at his own pace without force.
It wasn’t that long for small group of students in class to pick on him. Cruel as it was, he never gave in, he brushed aside the childish insults and behaviours and focused what on the pages.
Physical alterations came next.
Blood on his sleeves from trying to stop the blood flow from spilling from his nose. Discoloured bruises forever painted his skin, throbbing and hot enough he couldn’t rest comfortably in bed. Migraine never going away for a while due to being kicked and slammed to the head. Eyes sensitive that he had to wear glasses often, to not get overwhelmed by the Sun and artificial lights. Scars on his skin never healing correctly because he moved so much in bed when suffering from nightmare.
The changes were slow yet fast at the same.
Tori and Kyle had to watch their son come home, quieter, slower, trying to pathetically brush away pain he climbed the stairs, favouring one foot more than the other.
They tried to take it up with the principal but was stopped when Brandon said no.
The day came when Tori got the phone call, hearing words she wish to never hear.
“Mrs Breyer, I am calling to inform you and on the behalf of the principal that Brandon is on his way to the hospital on ambulance due to being found unconscious in the boy’s toilet. I a—“
The phone slid out and clattered onto the kitchen floor where she spent hours baking pies and cooking roast dinners.
Her hands shook, cold and drained of all colour. Tori’s voice wavered when she called for her husband. Weak and feeble at first, panicked and stressed the next. Kyle came in, quick on his feet, alarmed at the way her voice called for him.
His eyes went to the phone on the floor, to her face voided completely of colour, to shaking fingers covering the lips.
He thought of the worst yet to come.
“What is going on? I heard your shouting.”
Distraught she was, she sputtered out two and two together to formulate the sentences she wished to never say out her mouth.
“Hospital. Hospital. He is at the hospital. They called me. They found him unconscious in the toilet.”
Dread came crawling on Kyle’s back.
Brain went haywire.
Personal items were in his hands immediately and his adrenaline was fuelling him towards the Ute, shoving the key into the slot to start up the vehicle aggressive.
Tori, on the other hand, was dashing about on her feet, grabbed few items Brandon found comfort in, shoved it in her bag and ran towards where Kyle was seen gripping the wheels, waiting.
The drive there was not easy, the two were thinking of the worst possible scenarios. Outcomes which they couldn’t cope living if anything were to happen to their son. What went on the moment they got there warranted few months of back-to-back meetings with the principal, teachers and the parents of whose children that inflicted harm on their son.
Tori and Brandon regretted leaving the situation on the back burner. None of this would have happened if they stepped in and reported everything that they found on Brandon. But no, they trusted a word from a suffering child to not interfere and let him pretend that all is well.
A long few months of healing after, he was immediately transferred to another classroom on the other side of school.
A classroom similar to his first so far vastly different. The students of the class were more interested in their group of friends enough to not care about what he was made fun of before enough to be hurt.
A close few were nice.
They welcomed him, engaged with him in the conversations and left him alone when he wanted to be left alone. They enjoyed his informative conversations, sketch and read with him when he is quite open to join at times.
The others. He didn’t mind, but was grateful that he was left to his own devices without snide remarks, a shove or kicks to the leg when getting his attention.
They know that he is inside their classroom but didn’t care or want to rub him the wrong way.
Brandon was stuck inside limbo. Still on the tipping edge from the past abuse yet so open for people that care to be kind.
It all felt too much of what it was like before. Nice at first until they get nasty.
“Brandon?”
His eyes moved away from the page he was reading from and glanced at who ever was calling his name.
He saw you. Suddenly, his cheeks and ears started to feel warm. Wiggling sensation exploded within his abdomen.
He was no longer slouched but upright. It was swift as in a blink of an eye.
His hand which held his book was shoved into his bag pack and zipped up so fast from the force of his fingers that it almost got torn off.
“(Name)…”
Your name came out so softly out his mouth, so soft as a marshmallow being squeezed in his fingers. His eyes shone bright, attentive at best.
“How are you feeling? Heard from your mum to mine that you have been quiet when I am not around. Plus, sorry for not calling your house to let you know that I was sick.”
His mother will be the death of him.
Brandon wanted to dig a hole and die right there and then.
“It was nothing like that, didn’t feel the need to talk.” The words came pouring out as you sat down, plopping your bag to side and facing him.
“If you say so. So, what did I miss from last week?”
Just like that, you brushed aside his skittish fingers, legs bouncing every time you talk to him. Brushing it off as him being regulating himself and trying to not shut down, when it was just him trying to be as open as he can be to keep you as his friend.
He didn’t want to say something so weird. He was afraid you would stop talking to him. It happened many times before and he didn’t want to go through the pain again.
There was slip ups every once in a while and still, you showed him time and time again, you will not stop talking to him.
In fact – you wanted to embrace every part of him. The weird, awkward, strange sides of him which what intrigued you in the first place to be friends.
You didn’t care about his stutter or that weird extreme strength he would accidentally reveal in front of you. If it is going to take you ten years of slowly knowing about to what is his favourite food or games to play, so be it.
He sees it yet was in denial about it. Guiltily waiting for you to betray him. You never did, will not do had him stumped. He understood that you are not the one to mess him around and he could not help acting being confused to why you invited him over to your house to play video games, knowing when to hug him as he never tell you that he is feeling low for days.
Play with his slight wavy hair when it got too long that his mother insisted he needed a cut but kept it because you liked it.
His brain was still restricted at the stage of ‘I need a friend but I don’t want to be hurt again.’
It was oozing out of him so much, you can see it reflecting in his body language. Still, you were gentle enough to not touch those subconscious wounds and encourage hanging out every day to see his small smile widen when you run up to hug him, radiating pure happiness and excitement to run around the grassy field with him, playing ball games.
Laughing at things that are too stupid for adults to comprehend. Lying down on the grass, arms together, facing the sky and seeing shapes of the clouds moving as the daylight sky slowly started to diminish to night.
Staying goodbye, refusing to depart which extended to a hug that the mothers have to pry your arms off as the sky is pitch black out. Impatiently waiting for the weekends to arrive and spend all the time at each others’ houses, doing what is fun at the time: running, drawing, cutting out pictures of the magazine to clumsily make a disembodied shape out of everything you both could find.
All the things played out in his mind as the final answer to his denial that refused to ease is slowly melting. You saw his smile radiate like the sun flowing into the room through the window. He finally understood that he is safe with you and you just wanted the best for him.
“Nothing much, just glad to have you back.”
“Wrong answer dumb-dumb! I talking about what went down at home when I was sick and realised you weren’t paying attention to what I said.”
“I was!”
“Brandon, you were smiling at me like I made you your favourite food.”
“I did not smile, stop lying.”
“Then what did I say?”
He was silent, thoughts racking his brain for an answer and couldn’t find any.
“That what’s I thought.” You smirked as you shoved him playfully when he groaned and covered his face with his hand to hide his embarrassment.
