I'm currently obsessed with mangkwan Neteyam. I'm even writing a fic about him of A03 rn ( my user is ParkerSolarProbe). So why not make some and to go with it
I just got the hang of drawing humans so Navi were hard
Just realized that anyone whofollows me doesn't know about the character that started it all.
So, I'd like to introduce you to the character that introduced me to the fandom space. The character that showed me what fanart was. The man that I head-cannoned so hard that as well have made an OC at that point…
Oklahoma walked out of the meeting room. It was the first time he had been officially called to a meeting in the statehouse. Gov said he was welcome to stay here. Some of the other states had already made themselves at home. Louisiana was lounging on the couch and New York and New Jersey were arguing in the kitchen. All in all, not somewhere Homa wanted to be for very long. Besides, he had already promised Georgia that he would come down for dinner. He really needed to stop flaking on him.
He threw his braid over his shoulder and pulled out his phone, reading the notification of his lock screen. Kentucky was texting him, something about bringing drinks to dinner. Oklahoma wasn’t trusted with bringing food anymore after what South Carolina called “An insult to the very act of cooking”.
“Oklahoma?” He heard a familiar voice call from behind him. Oklahoma froze. He hadn’t seen California since he left all those years ago. He was so different now. A part of him was surprised California even recognized him.
“California,” He turned and faced him. Cal was gorgeous, as always. His sun-bleached hair was longer now, brushing the top of his shoulders. He wore a red beanie that covered most of his hair, Oklahoma thought it was a shame.
“Your hair has gotten long.” He sounded like he was out of breath. Oklahoma understood why. His hair was a clear sign that he hadn’t been healthy with Cal. It had grown more in the past 30 years than it did in the 58 he spent in what was once their home.
“I- um.” California looked scared, like the wrong words would make Oklahoma disappear. “How are you?” He said finally.
Oklahoma smiled, a real, small smile that came naturally with the warmth in his chest. He had never stopped loving Cal. There was a difference between leaving to get rid find someone new and leaving to find himself.
“I’m doing better, I have a family dinner tonight and everything.” Cal smiled at that too.
“I’m glad you’re getting closer with them. I know my brothers are a pain in the ass. You know Oregon said I was shaped like macaroni earlier?” He laughed and Homa found himself laughing along.
“You love Oregon,” He reminded him. Cal had always been close with his brother. Homa had been jealous of it at first. But now he had his own brothers back.
Cal looked around, noticing Louisiana watching them from the couch.
“Follow me?” He asked sheepishly. Oklahoma nodded and the two walked out to the deck.
“I have to ask,” Cal said, leaning on the railing. Texas had built the porch, wouldn’t shut up about it for weeks while he worked. Oklahoma was working on shit in his state or he would have come over to help. Well, half help, half make fun of Texas.
“I’ve been talking with the other southern states. All they talk about is how you argue and fight. They call you wild, Babe.” He laughed as if he didn’t believe it and it took a moment for Oklahoma to realize he really didn’t believe it.
“I’m not exactly known for my even temper.” He shrugged.
“I knew you to have one though.” Cal was looking straight into his eyes and there was some small part of him that screamed with prey instinct. He needed to run before Cal got to close. “You’re nothing like what I remember. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing I’m just wondering why you felt the need to hide yourself around me. I never meant to make you uncomfortable.”
“It wasn’t you, I don’t think.” He looked away from California. “We were never exactly in equal standing. I guess that was because of the caretaker thing Gov assigned you.” He looked out at the horizon. He wasn’t quite sure where the statehouse was. No one seemed to know. Maybe it was just one of those things he would never understand.
“I was really too sick most of the time to be wild or pick fights. Staying with you saved me from dying alone. I didn’t want to risk being kicked out.” It was odd to admit this. He hadn’t even told his family what happened in his years away. They all knew to avoid the topic by now.
“I’m sorry.” Cal said. Homa felt bad. He hadn’t meant to place blame. “If it means anything to you, I think this state I hear about sounds awesome. I’d love to get to know the real you. Try again at meeting each other?” He held out his hand for Oklahoma to take, as if introducing himself. Oklahoma took it. They were meeting again. Not as savior and patient, but as equals.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Homa.” He said with a smile.
please comment guys, i’ll tag the first one in the next chapter 🙏 (although all that’s really left is the epilogue)
OK x CA
1991
part six below the cut
Okie lay down, looking up at the bright California sky stretching high above him. The sand coated his skin and hair, but he didn’t mind it. It had become a part of him over the years. California did state things, Okie waited on the beach. He didn’t have much energy to do anything else lately.
Gov said he was getting sicker. But he knew what sickness felt like. He remembered struggling to breathe and waiting for the pain to stop at any means necessary. He remembered what it was like to stand at death’s door and finally understand why people knocked.
This wasn’t that. He didn’t feel bad. He was just tired. And that wasn’t a problem. It just meant more naps on the beach, drenched in sunlight. That didn’t sound bad.
In his dreams, Okie saw his home. It was blurry, with some details missing, but it was unmistakable. He felt the weight of his braid hanging on his back. He walked around the one-room building that he once called home. It was so different from the mansion he lived in with Cal. But then it hit him. It was his. It may not have shared the glamor that Cal’s house had. But he had built it with his own two hands. When he thought of Cal’s home, it was simply that, Cal’s house. This was his.
He looked out of the window, to the garden he had grown and the forest that lay behind it. That was his garden. He had once been self-sufficient enough to grow his own food. Now he relied on Cal to remind him to eat.
He thought about his former self. The bullrider, the cowboy. He would be disgusted with Okie. Because at some point, he stopped being that person. He filed the adrenaline and lust for life under ‘Homa’ and placed it in a box under the bed. Forgotten about as he chased some idea of a life with Cal.
He loved Cal. There was no question about that. But as he looked at the life he gave up, he started to wonder if he still loved himself. If he had given up not only his old way of life but also his self-care in order to be with Cal.
“Wake up, Babe.” Cal gently shook him, and Oklahoma remembered he wasn’t in his state, in his house. He was on the beach. He was always on the beach.
“You okay, Okie?” He asked, those big blue eyes full of concern. It was those eyes that got him into this mess in the first place. Oklahoma pushed himself up, sitting in the sand. He looked up at Cal; he really looked at him. In all these years, he had always seen California as the angel of a man he had looked like when they first met. Compared to the starving people of his state, Cal did look incredible. But now he looks at him and realizes that he had placed his lover on a pedestal so high that he had never truly seen him. California was beautiful, he was kind, and he was simply California. He was no angel. He was no better or worse than Oklahoma.
“Cal, do you love me?” He said, finally. Maybe it was his words, or the look in his eye, but Cal looked almost scared.
“Of course, Okie. Why would you think anything else?” He gave Oklahoma a worried smile, flashing those perfect, Hollywood teeth.
“No, not Okie. Me. Oklahoma. The fighter, the cowboy, do you love who I was when I was still me?” He didn’t notice he was crying until Cal wiped away a tear from his cheek.
“Oklahoma, you’re not a cowboy.” Cal smiled again, like Oklahoma was being ridiculous. And in that moment, he knew that Gov was right. He had lost himself in loving California. So much so that Cal didn’t even know who he had spent the last 58 years with.
“I need to go home.” He gasped out, the panic that forced him to say those words only intensified when he spoke.
“Okie, you are home.” California looked so scared, Oklahoma felt horrible, but all he could think about was another 58 years spent on this fucking beach.
“No, I’m not, California. I gave up everything to be here, with you. And that’s not your fault, but it’s what happened. I gave up myself to be with you, and I want it back.” He folded in on himself and felt California bring him up into his arms.
“I have to leave. I can’t stay here anymore. I need my life back. This isn’t healthy. And everyone told me that, but I didn’t listen and now I’ve gone and hurt us both.” He was rambling now, and California was looking at him, and when he brought him into a tight hug, Oklahoma felt his heart stop.
“I’ve known, Oklahoma. I’ve known you weren’t happy. I thought if I showered you with gifts, I could make up for everything you were giving up by being here. But I can’t replace your family. My love can’t replace who you are.” California was crying now, too. What a sight they made, crying on the beach. His heart swelled for a moment, thinking about how considerate California was, how much they loved each other. But it wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t equal. His heart would always belong to rolling hills and fields of indian blankets in bloom. He was a fish out of water on this beach. A lotus in a tree.
“Promise me we can try again someday?” Cal said into Oklahoma’s neck. “Promise me that one day, when we both know how to be healthy, we can do this for real, we can be happy?”
“I can’t promise that, California. I love you, I really do. But I don’t know what the future will hold. I don’t know what decisions I’ll make. I just know I need to find myself again before I know what to do.”
Okie sat cross legged in the sand. The feeling of it covering his suit pants should have bothered him, but he didn’t really mind it. If anything it grounded him. It reminded him of where he came from.
The waves were harsh today, Maria had told him not to go out. But he felt so trapped inside that big house without California.
“They told me I would find you out here,” A familiar voice said as someone sat down beside him. He should apologize. Gov was dirtying his suit by sitting out here with him. Cal had long since given up on trying to get Okie to keep his suits clean.
“It’s been a long time.” He commented, not moving his gaze from the crashing waves.
“That is because you never show up to events, or meetings, or anything really.” Gov said like he was talking about the weather instead of berating him. “Is this all you do? Watch the ocean?”
Okie nodded, “I like watching the ocean.”
“Oklahoma, I need to talk to you about something.” Okie looked up at him when he said that. It had been so long since someone had called him by his full name. California called him Okie so much that he had started referring to himself as that even in his own mind.
“The last time we saw each other wasn’t under the best of circumstances.”
“You mean when I was dying on the floor?”
“Yes,” Gov looked uncomfortable, like he was about to say something Okie didn’t want to hear.
“Oklahoma do you remember who you were before coming here?” He asked. It was a silly question.
“Of course I do.” Okie rolled his eyes. States naturally had good memory. He remembered being alone. He remembered the dust.
“I’ve been talking with Georgia.”
“Great.” Georgia never approved of anything Oklahoma did. It was all unhealthy or reckless. And honestly he just didn’t want to hear it.
“And he agrees that this might not be the best place for you, Homa.” Okie paused at that. Only the other southern states had ever called him Homa. All these names he had forgotten over the years being thrown back in his face.
“Cal is good to me, I’m happy.” He tried to reassure him. But Gov only shook his head.
“I don’t doubt that California is good to you. He’s a good man. But I worry that you’ve lost yourself in him.” Gov wasn’t meeting Okie’s eyes. He wondered if he couldn’t stand what he saw there.
“You were wild Oklahoma. It was a fight to even get you to agree to become a state. Every time I saw you, you were bull riding, or breaking mustangs. And now you’re happy to just sit here and look at the ocean? I’m sorry but I don’t believe that for a second.” Gov’s eyes had turned cold, like this was the hill he was willing to die on.
“So just because I’m not being reckless and wild you think I’m being abused?” Okie was losing his temper now. He couldn’t understand what the problem was with his and California’s relationship. They were happy. Okie was happy. What about that did Gov not understand?
“I never said you were being abused.” Gov corrected.
“But I’ve ‘lost myself’?” Okie spat.
“Oklahoma, you’re not acting like yourself. You haven’t been back to your state in so long it’s starting to effect your health.”
“My health is fine.” He scoffed.
“Don’t bullshit me, Oklahoma. you’re a mess.” Gov glared at him and Okie wondered if he was truly angry.
“Your hair hasn’t grown, your bones creak even though you’re functionally immortal. Oklahoma staying out of your state for a while is fine but we’re talking about decades here. This isn’t healthy for you.”
Okie didn’t answer that. He just returned to watching the sea. He thought about his life. He wasn’t unhappy. Not like Gov thought he should be. But his thoughts drifted back to that before time he had talked about. He remembered it, if he focused. He remembered the adrenaline. The wind in his long hair. But was it worth it? Was it worth giving up all he had built here?
“I’m fine, Gov.” He said fianlly.
“Homa, I can’t fix this for you, I wish I could. And I know it’s my fault you got into this mess. But you wont be healthy again until you decide you need better.” He placed a hand on Okie shoulder but he ignored him. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need Gov to come with some kind of intervention for him. He was grown for christ sake. He could make his own decisions.
He knew that California was worth it. Who know where he would be right now if it wasn’t for Cal. He didn’t know who he was without Cal. And maybe that was the problem Gov was talking about. Maybe it was just part of being in a happy relationship as long as they had. Now that he thought about it. Looking out onto the ocean. He was taken here in 1933. He was 26 years old. It was 1960 now. He had been with Cal longer than he had been on his own. SO who was Gov to say he wasn’t acting like himself? Maybe this was just the real him.
He rested his head on his knees. Thinking on that last idea. Maybe this was just the real him. He wasn’t sure why that thought made him sick to his stomach.
Oklahoma sat on the beach, watching the tide pull and push the waves against the wet sand. The dust bowl was over. Kansas went home. Wyoming went home. Oklahoma stayed.
it was never explicitly said why he chose to stay. But Gov knew to look for him here, and his state officials knew better than to need him.
He ran a hand through his dark brown hair. He assumed it would grow back when his land healed. It never did. Long hair wasn’t popular for men in his state anymore anyway, not after the boarding schools. Maybe that was why Oklahoma’s hair refused to grow. He didn’t know. It wasn’t really important either. He had left that life behind him. Given it up for his life here.
A life doing what? You might ask. A life watching the beach mostly. Oklahoma spent most of his days out here, just watching the tide. At night Cal would return and he would drag him out to go see a movie or go to a fancy new restaurant. Oklahoma didn’t mind this, though he drew the line at the parties Cal always wanted him to go with him to. He hated parties. They were so different here than they were back home. No, not home, not anymore.
“Sir, California is requesting you.” A maid touched Oklahoma lightly on the shoulder. He looked up at her, not really focused on the conversation. Her name was Maria, she was truly one of Oklahoma’s favorite people, aside from Cal. Though he wasn’t sure if states counted as people. But Maria was probably the only living thing he could call a friend. She didn’t mind when tornado-induced headaches made him irritable, nor did she mind when he spaced out mid-conversation. Oklahoma enjoyed talking to her, he hoped she felt the same.
“Thank you, Maria. I’ll be up soon.” He stood slowly as she walked away, dusting the sand from his pants and listening to his bones creak. He wasn’t sure if they were supposed to do that. He didn’t age after all. But they’d been doing it long enough that he stopped answering questions.
“Okie, you wont believe what I just went through,” Cal said as he leaned dramatically on Oklahoma’s shoulder. He had been at some event all day. Gov held some meeting with all the states. Oklahoma didn’t go, just couldn’t find the energy.
“That bad?” He chuckled as Cal buried his head in his shoulder. they never labeled what they were. They were just… Them. Oklahoma was happy with that. He didn’t need to be a boyfriend or a husband. He was okay just being with California. They didn’t need anything else.
“It’s those backwards southern states, I swear. They never listen.” Cal ran his hands through his hair and walked to the bar and started making two drinks. Oklahoma paused at his words. He wasn’t sure why. He was southern, sure. But not like the rest. Cal obviously wasn’t talking about him. Oklahoma didn’t act like a southern state. He was calm, he was quiet. California loved him.
“Come on, Oak. Drink with me.” Cal held out a glass to him. Oklahoma took it then quietly set it down and took California’s hand instead.
“I think you’ve had enough darlin’” He laughed slightly but stopped when he saw Cal roll his eyes.
“You sound like Texas.” He sighed. Oklahoma froze. What did he mean by that. Did he mean Oklahoma’s accent? He had never commented on it before. But he was just talking about how southern states annoyed him. Should Oklahoma try and change it? He had been living here long enough that he could probably replicate Cal’s accent. Or did he mean that Texas called him Darling? Oklahoma didn’t know why that thought made him as sad as it did. Anger would be a more fitting reaction. But he had no control over his fellow states reaction to his partner. He just hoped he was enough to keep California with him.
“You’re drunk, Cal.” He said instead of explaining his complex fears and doubts.
“You’re pretty,” Cal pulled him closer by the waist and Oklahoma could smell the alcohol on his breath but he let him get closer dispite that, he let him kiss him because he loved him.
California ran his hands through Oklahoma’s hair, similar to how he did with his own. Oklahoma sometimes felt like an extension of California in that way. He came when Cal called. He was always wherever he needed him.
“You’ll have to come with me next time.” He said into his mouth. Okie wanted to step back but he didn’t.
“You know how I hate state dinners. I don’t even talk to politicians anymore.” He said instead. It was true. He hardly left the house unless going to the beach or being dragged out by California. His politicians largely did their own thing. He didn’t read the news, he assumed they were doing well.
“Oh come on Okie, I need someone to talk to other than Oregon.” He sighed dramatically.
“You love Oregon.” Okie reminded him. California responded by picking him up and spinning him around as if he weighed nothing. Which was partly true since the dust bowl. He never did manage to gain his weight back.
“I love you more,” He said, smiling up at Okie.
He looked down at Cal. Really looked at him. And suddenly he knew why he stared at the ocean. He knew why he stayed here with white sand instead of red dirt. California was right here, right in front of him. And no amount of fresh southern air could replace that. California, who’s eyes were as blue as the ocean, was right here in front of him.
And that was worth everything.
Then, there was that traitorous little voice that called him back. Back to the garden where he had buried his braid. Back to the place he had left himself. But Oklahoma didn’t listen to that voice, he barely even acknowledged it’s existence.
every single review of this fic buys yall another chapter.
Sorry this one is short
CA x OK
Dustbowl era (I swear we’ll fast forward soon)
His own state was exactly as he left it, dead. The wind blew softly, kicking up dust and tumbleweeds from the ground and throwing them through the air around Oklahoma. But as tragic as it was standing in what was once a great state, he also felt a shift. Like a weight had been taken off his chest and he could finally breathe again despite the logical knowledge that his breath was more difficult here.
He stepped into his old home, whipping the dirt from the counters and sitting quietly on his own bed.
He was greatful to California, he really was. But there was just something about sitting in his own bed that felt like clean lungs and wind in his hair.
But this wasn’t what he was here for. He got up and walked back outside to the small farm he once maintained in the back. It died with the rest of the crops. He almost died with them.
He sat on the warm dirt, soaking up the sun overhead and meditating on what he was about to do. Despite himself, his thoughts turned to bright blue eyes and sunbleached hair. He thought of California. The worry in his eyes when he found Oklahoma in the bathroom. The soft expression on his face when he caught Oklahoma simply existing in the house.
He took his braid in his hand, feeling the weight of it, and he brought up the scissors from California’s kitchen. He wasn’t supposed to do this outside of mourning. But he wasn’t mourning. He was mourning himself, mourning the life he was about to fully give up on.
The first snip of the scissors felt like a chest wound.
———
“Okie! Where have you been i’ve been worried sick?!” California put his hands on Oklahoma’s shoulders. His gaze landed on his hair, now not much longer than California’s. He raised a hand slowly to touch it, then thought better of it.
”I’m fine Cal,” Oklahoma sighed, “It’s just something I had to do.”
“Cal” He repeated, Oklahoma didn’t even realize he had shortened his name.
“Sorry,” He said instinctively
He remembered who he was before Cal. Laying half dead on the floor waiting only to see the light. Maybe California was the light. He was surely the only thing that saved him.
As he stayed there in California’s arms, probably longer than is socially acceptable, he realized that maybe that life was worth giving up. Maybe it was worth giving up for this.
one, count ‘em, one, person gave me positive feedback so here’s your part two!
CA x OK
Dustbowl era
story below the cut
Oklahoma looked out the window, He didn’t do much else these days. This state was so different from his home. He could see the beach from his window, the waves rhythmically crashing against the shore.
He hummed quietly to himself as he braided his thick dark hair. It was calming now that he had the strength to care for himself again.
California was kind enough to him. He was always there to offer a plate of food or a quick walk along the beach. All in all, Oklahoma had nothing to complain about here.
Sure, dust still lined his lungs. Gov said that it would be like that until he was fully healed. But no one knew when that would be. It still hurt, it hurt like hell. But he could move now, and he considered that a sizable victory. Even if he knew he would be better until his land was better.
“Hey Okie?” California stuck his head into the room. Now, Oklahoma was man enough to admit that California had the tendency to dress like he had just walked out of a portrait. His sun-bleached hair combed perfectly to the side and a perfectly tailored suit.
“Yes?” He said, trying to seem like he barely noticed the other state.
“I was wondering if you wanted to join me for a dinner I was invited to?” California asked as he leaned against Oklahoma’s doorframe. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be asked to dinner by some silver screen star or politician. But he had never asked Oklahoma to join him before.
“Oh- I, I’d love to.” Oklahoma stuttered, immediately hating himself for doing so.
“Perfect! I have a suit for you, follow me!” He grabbed his hand and pulled Oklahoma through the halls of his home.
—-
Oklahoma had never worn a suit before. He had never thought that was strange. He was sure California had never worn regalia. It was just the two worlds that they lived in.
But even so, he could tell this suit cost more than the home he lived in in his state. And it fit perfectly. Too perfectly for it to have been made with California in mind. But he chose not to dwell on that.
“Did I do this right?” He asked, turning to look at California. The other state said nothing. His ocean blue eyes glued to Oklahoma. He felt his cheeks flush at the attention. But California quickly regained his composure.
“You just need to fix the tie and you’ll be all good.” He said, “Here, let me.” He took a step closer to Oklahoma, focusing his attention to tying the fabric around his neck. Oklahoma wished he could focus on the task at hand, wished he could memorize California’s movements so he could replicate them. But all his traitorous mind could see was how close the other state was to him.
“There, all better.” California whispered quietly. But when he looked up and met Oklahoma’s eyes, he didn’t move. Neither of them did.
“Sirs, the car is here.” One of the staff members knocked on the door, snapping both of them out of it.
“Come on, the governor is waiting for us,” California said, taking Oklahoma by the hand.
—-
The capital building was nicer than anything Oklahoma had in his state. Though he had to be fair, he was almost 57 years younger than California. He had more time to establish capitals and buildings than Oklahoma did.
“California, a pleasure as always.” The governor was a balding man, with white hair and a square face. Beside him stood his wife, Oklahoma assumed. “And who is this gentleman?”
“Governor Rolph, the pleasure is all mine.” California said, following the governor’s eyes to Oklahoma. “I believe I told you I was offering aid to a fellow personification? I’d like you to meet Okie.” He tugged Oklahoma sleeve slightly and Oklahoma offered his hand out to the governor and his wife. He stilled hated being called Okie. But it wasn’t like he could bring that up right now.
After their introductions, the states and politicians sat around the table. They served seafood, something Oklahoma was learning to get used to, though he had never eaten it before coming to stay with California.
The governor was talking about something incredibly dull as they ate. Oklahoma was barely paying attention, more concerned with moving the food around on his plate with a fork. He knew it was rude, but he didn’t have much of an appetite anymore. Gov said it was because his lungs and stomach were full of dirt and dust. But his body couldn’t digest that. It did him no good yet he couldn’t eat anything of substance because of it.
He looked up, watching California interact with his Governor. For a moment he remembered when that was him. When he was a respectable personification that had meetings with his politicians.
As he watched them he felt a tickle in his throat, nothing new, if anything it felt more normal to have trouble breathing by now. But soon he could feel it advance. He got up and quickly excused himself to the bathroom.
Once there, Oklahoma sat on the floor, coughing up dust into his hands. He felt it fill his cupped palms. He tried to breathe in but the dust had already filled his lungs, stealing his breath away. Every desperate inhale was met with a coughing fit. The world around him blurred as the pain took hold of his body. He couldn’t live like this, even if he survived. He dropped the dust, letting it filter through his fingers as he added to the pile. It coated his fancy suit, dulled his shined shoes. No matter how California dressed him he couldn’t live not help but ruin it with his sickness.
“-ie, Oklahoma!” He was suddenly aware of the hands on his shoulders, gently shaking him as he refocused on the world around him.
California was in front of him, his eyes blown wide with fear. Oklahoma looked up at him, realization dawning on him as he stared into the other state’s eyes.
He teleported away, into California’s kitchen. He searched through the drawers, ignoring the voice in his head that told him how rude he was being. Until he found what he needed. And with that, he went home.
AU where everything is the same except Jason stays dead.
There is no closer about what he would want, no watching what he becomes. Dead boys stay dead. Dick is angry. He’s angry enough to want to kill the man who took his brother from him. He’s angry enough to never speak to his father again. Tim becomes Bruce’s lifeline. The only person he can rely on. It’s too much for the boy, but he can’t hold it himself anymore.
Batman is cruel. He doesn’t pull his punches, he doesn’t show sympathy for villains. In their eyes he doesn’t see his fellow man. He sees the joker. He sees the person that stole his boy from him.
Sometimes Bruce sits at Jason’s grave. He doesn’t speak. Jason stays in his grave. His little boy. His son. He sits there and he hates the world for what it took from him.
Sure, over time he heals. But the scar is rough and ugly. The very topic of the second robin is so harshly scrubbed from history that some people even forget there was a robin between Dick and Tim.
Bruce knows being forgotten was the worse fate that the world could give his little boy. But the world didn’t do it to him. Bruce did.
This is obvi pre state house and in the dust bowl time.
The dust settled in Oklahoma’s lungs as he lay on the floor of his room. It coated every inch of the space. It was all around him, in him. He sometimes wondered if someday he would be nothing but dust.
He was stronger than his people, though. So many of them had already fled. He wished them luck in the west. He imagined them sometimes. Their children playing outside, breathing in fresh, clean air.
another cough racked through his body. He wondered if someone would come for him. He had heard that Gov had come to visit Wyoming. Maybe he would do the same for Oklahoma. It would be nice, not dying alone.
He didn’t know if personifications could die. But as he felt family after family flee to safer states he wondered if there would be a need for a personification with no people to personify it.
“Oklahoma?” Gov’s voice cut through the air like a sharp knife. “You look a mess.”
“Always such a charmer.” Oklahoma didn’t move from his place on the floor. Even talking disrupted the air in his lungs and he found himself coughing once again.
“Oklahoma you can’t live like this.” Of course he couldn’t. That’s why everyone was leaving. Gov kneeled down and placed a hand on Oklahoma’s shoulder. Oklahoma looked up at him. As if he might be able to fix this somehow.
“I’m sending you away, just until you get better.”
“I can’t leave, my people need me,” He chocked out.
“You won’t be much use to them if you’re dead.” So personifications could die. “I’m sending you to California. He’s taken in so many of your people and he’s willing to help you too.”
Oklahoma just stared at him. He didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want to stay. He just wanted to stop hurting. So he nodded, something slight and barely noticeable. But Gov saw it. And before he knew it he was transported to a room he didn’t recognize. Gov had Oklahoma’s arm slung over his shoulder so he could help support his weight. He would have stood on his own, if he could just get enough air in his lungs to do so.
“Oh-“ a state in front of them said. He was tall, with clear pale skin, and glossy brown hair. Suddenly Oklahoma felt self conscious. Was wasn’t that much shorter than California. But his tan skin was dull and lifeless, and dark hair hung like straw against his back. He was sick, and you could tell just by looking at him.
“California, this is Oklahoma.” Gov introduced them, then quickly added, “I told you it was urgent.”
Oklahoma glared at him. He hated how Gov made him sound weak, like he couldn’t handle this.
“Well, it’s nice to have you here, Oklahoma. Can I call you Okie? That’s what my people have taken to calling yours.” He smiled and even though Oklahoma hated the nickname he nodded. Maybe it was just to be polite, maybe it was something else.
“Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”
—
If one person tells me to continue this i’ll do it.
two years ago i posted a God awful picture of Oklahoma with his hair down. I haven’t drawn much since i disappeared off this app but i knew I could do better.
the original ⬇️
i mostly just fixed the proportions but i like it better even though its just a sketch
Thinking about Mav living in his father’s shadow, his failure looming over him, closing doors, losing friends, flying alone, halting his career. And then Ice comes along, and climbs the ranks and suddenly he’s not ‘Duke Mitchell’s kid’, he’s ‘Admiral Kazansky’s pet project’, he’s ’under the Iceman’s protection’, he’s still living under a legacy, but this time, it’s Ice’s
Mav is thrilled, He’s fucking ecstatic. Rooster made it, he made it. The mission was a success and he could see the way his baby goose looked at him had changed. They were healing.
The sky was bright and the carrier smelled like oil and sweat but he knew it was the smell of victory. Coyote slapped him on the back as they walked to go inside and Mac would remember that as the second before his world fell apart.
The soldiers were waiting for him at the doorway, clad in their dress uniforms and holding that damn flag. Perfectly folded, pressed, and hideous. Mav stopped dead in his tracks, like ignoring them would stop all of this. Like he could still pretend he had a home to go back to.
“Captain Michell-Kazansky—“ They started but he interrupted them.
“I don’t want it. I don’t want that fucking flag” It was true. He didn’t want that flag. He wanted his husband. But the US Navy couldn’t give him his husband so he got a flag and his own God damn dog tags.
“Mav,” Rooster put a hand on his shoulder but he shook it off. He pushed past the guards. Let Rooster have the flag. He was their adopted son, he could take it. Maybe it was selfish to leave that burden to his son. But maybe it was selfish of Ice to die when he knew he was Mav’s whole world.
He sat on his bunk, head in his hands. He had read all of Ice’s stupid books on love. They always said that their love hung the moon and stars. But Mav knew that the universe would still be there without his great love. Ice didn’t hang the moon. But he taught Mav to see the beauty in it. He may not have placed every star, but he gave them purpose.
Mav swung his head back, as if to ask God why he let this happen. But he couldn’t manage the words. He had survived against all odds. But what was it worth?
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