#* guest muse {roxanne brown}

[starbcrn-kids]

"And from what I understand, she doesn't even see it as a big deal," Dahlia nods with a chuckle. "Quite the character, that one. You'll learn about Rebecca's exploits over time faster than you'll catch up on the timeline and history, in spite of her not being on this ship, believe me."

"I think that's what happens when half the ship is considered a part of her extended family," Roxie points out. "Including Aunt Mackenzie as her sister in law. And Arthur, you're technically her nephew."

"Y'know, yeah, you say that, and I'm suddenly aware we're the oddballs here," Dahlia nods to her daughter at that.

“Well, as you can see,” Arthur said, gesturing vaguely to the windows, “space is just as cool as we always thought it was. All kinds of things tend to happen here. Like-”

“Us?” Lucille smirked, arms crossed over her chest.

Arthur sighed. “Yeah. Like us. But what I was actually going to say was aliens, and weird telepathic totems, and people who aren’t usually trees almost getting turned into trees, and lightly arguing with God.”

Mackenzie snorted lightly to herself. “Lightly? Not only was that not our ship, but it wasn’t a light argument. She decked God. And then bested him in single combat. She wrecked God.”

[caveartfair]

The Legendary Bars Where Famous Artists Drank, Debated, and Made Art History

Anton Perich, Olivero Toscani and Donna Jordan at Max's Kansas City, ca. 1970. Courtesy of the artist and Steven Kasher Gallery, New York.

On a recent weekday evening at the Lower East Side bar Beverly’s, a neon pink glow enveloped a young crowd downing cheap cans of Modelo. In the long, narrow venue, patrons ate chips and guacamole from a takeout joint, while drinkers’ sartorial choices—white sneakers, fitted sweatpants—suggested the bar’s dominant mode: effortlessly hip.

Yet small details, such as the gold, stuffed pistol above the bar mirror and the video art playing behind a booth, signaled the bar’s divergence from your average Manhattan dive. These are artworks by predominantly emerging artists, and are part of a series of rotating exhibitions at Beverly’s, which have featured sculptor Rose Nestler, online-dating-inspired photographer Sean Fader, ceramicist Roxanne Jackson, and many more. Its owners are artists themselves.

Beverly’s continues a long tradition of bars that not only cater to creative people, but often prove crucial to their conversations and careers. In New York, London, and Paris in particular, certain watering holes have hosted legendary conflicts, philosophical debates, and networking opportunities. They became boozy safe spaces (at least for those who knew their limits).

In Paris, bars aided the emergence of modernism. In his book Picasso and the Painting That Shocked the World, Miles J. Unger describes La Closerie des Lilas in Montparnasse as “an essential stop on the itinerary of anyone interested in contemporary art.” On Tuesday evenings at the end of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th, writers (Arthur Rimbaud, Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein), artists (Pablo Picasso, Henri Matisse, Amedeo Modigliani, Man Ray), and patrons met to drink and discuss the merits of alternative philosophies and styles. Along with standard brasserie fare, visitors could sink into the sumptuous leather banquettes as they listened to live piano.

Courtesy of Beverly's, New York.

At the Café de Flore on Boulevard Saint-Germain (with its Art Deco features and flowers above a wide awning), figures like Apollinaire and André Breton established the tenets of Surrealism in the 1910s. (Years later, musician Serge Gainsbourg would become partial to the establishment’s double pastis.) Across the street, Les Deux Magots—light and cheery, with ample outdoor seating for sipping coffee—similarly united the city’s intellectuals and contributed to their often torrid romances. Dora Maar met Picasso there in 1936 and subsequently became his muse and mistress (as well as an artist in her own right).

Open until 4 a.m., the nearby Le Tabou jazz club served as a late-night meeting point for the existentialists. Cultural worlds collided at the underground bar. According to Lewis MacAdams, author of Birth of the Cool: Beat, Bebop, and the American Avant Garde, the novelist Boris Vian introduced musician Charlie Parker and philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre here.

Yet during the 1940s and ’50s—just after World War II forever altered Paris and the rest of Europe—the rise of Abstract Expressionism in New York created a new center for the art world. Its practitioners began congregating, fighting, and philosophizing at the Cedar Tavern on University Place. Jackson Pollock kicked down the men’s room door. Willem de Kooning threatened to punch critic Clement Greenberg in the face following a theoretical dispute (he may have followed through, depending on who you ask).

The tavern closed in 2013, though nostalgia protected the actual bar from destruction: The Texan restaurant Eberly bought, dismantled, and pieced it back together for its own southern crowd. Its operations manager, Tom Maitland, who is a former New Yorker, used to drink at the Cedar Tavern in the ’90s after it became, in his parlance, “basically an NYU frat bar.” (Other hip hotspots have suffered similar fates, long after the art crowd passes on. Café de Flore, La Closerie des Lilas, and Les Deux Magots are all still open in Paris, though they’re now major destinations for tourists and other non-bohemians.)

If the Abstract Expressionists gained a reputation for their brooding, aggressive natures, the Pop art movement that followed in New York was more extroverted. Along with bright ben-day dots and an emphasis on everyday objects, celebrity culture (and partying) became integral to the era. The Cedar Tavern was notoriously unfriendly to queer men (Pollock once yelled homosexual slurs at Larry Rivers and Frank O’Hara); in reaction, Andy Warhol and his Factory compatriots established an alternative art world outpost at Max’s Kansas City. From 1965 through 1981, the Park Avenue South restaurant and nightclub welcomed personalities from Robert Mapplethorpe and Patti Smith to Debbie Harry (now better known as the frontwoman of Blondie, she also worked there as a waitress).

La Closerie des Lilas, Le Café de la Société Artistique et Littéraire Française et Etrangère, 171, Boulevard de Montparnasse, Paris, 1909. Photo  via Wikimedia Commons.

The Max’s Kansas City period coincided with the heyday of glamorous, extravagant New York nightclubs. Opened in 1977, Studio 54 became emblematic of the era, a high-profile melting pot where artists, musicians, movie stars, and socialites all came to drink, socialize, and, in Bianca Jagger’s case, ride around on a white horse. In 1978, the Mudd Club opened in a Tribeca building owned by artist Ross Bleckner, attracting a guest list that included Jeff Koons and David Bowie. (A filmmaker once quipped that it “was a dysfunctional circus that functioned.”) From 1983 through 1987, the nightclub Area hosted a series of rotating art installations. Jean-Michel Basquiat, Keith Haring, and Barbara Kruger all showed work there, blurring the lines between art and interior decoration, gallery space and entertainment venue.

Across the Atlantic, London’s Colony Room Club offered a similarly accepting atmosphere. The Soho bar operated from 1948 through 2008, tending to six decades of thirsty artists. Owner Muriel Belcher was known for her obscenities and aphorisms, the best-known of which may have been: “Don’t be dull and fucking boring.” While she claimed to know “fuck all about art,” Francis Bacon was one of her first—and most loyal—patrons. He painted her portrait and acted as an unofficial promoter for the bar (Belcher paid him to bring in new clients). Over the years, Lucian Freud and the Young British Artist cohort joined the club’s drinking community.

In the ’70s, the East London neighborhoods of Shoreditch and Hoxton had become punk destinations, and the creative scene began to shift away from Soho. By the early 1990s, the Young British Artists had infiltrated the neighborhood, particularly the Bricklayers Arms bar. At a 1993 party in Hoxton, Tracey Emin read palms while Damien Hirst dressed up as a clown and set up a spin-painting apparatus (passersby could quickly create their own artworks for one pound, and he’d sign them).

Punk had likewise altered the creative landscape of late-1970s New York. Artist Ulli Rimkus landed a job as a bartender at Times Square’s Tin Pan Alley bar, where photographer Nan Goldin was a customer and part-time employee. Kiki Smith, with whom Rimkus also collaborated artistically, was another co-worker. Goldin met and shot some of her best-known subjects here, including downtown personality Cookie Mueller.

Ronald Bladen, Max's Kansas City, 213 Park Avenue South, c. 1972, Courtesy of the Ronald Bladen Estate and Loretta Howard Gallery, NY.

In 1989, Rimkus opened her own bar, Max Fish, on the Lower East Side. Artists followed, including Tom Otterness. He helped finance the operation, and eventually donated a bronze sculpture of a rat dressed as a cop that had been turned down as part of a public commission. Rimkus hosted monthly art shows and events until rent increases forced her out in 2013. The following year, she opened a new iteration nearby. “The whole neighborhood has changed,” she tells Artsy. “You just have to roll with it. Nothing stays the same. Our clientele is pretty eclectic still.” Her neighbors, she says, are all being evicted or taken to court by landlords. High-end hotels continue to move in. But Max Fish is preserving a bohemian spirit while real estate skyrockets.

Down the street, Beverly’s preserves that same energy for a younger generation (and perhaps resurrects the aura of gallerist Gavin Brown’s Chelsea bar, Passerby, which shuttered in the late aughts). Owner Leah Dixon, an artist herself, notes the political tenor of conversations at her bar—along with a high volume of mezcal and tequila orders. The staff, the DJs they hire, and the artists they show are all in their twenties and thirties. “These are probably the people who are on the forefront of creating the conversation in our country about how to talk about inequality,” she says. Dixon notes how Beverly’s itself serves as a means of upward mobility. She and her co-workers offer artists a platform to show their work, and a venue for meeting other members of the Lower East Side scene.

Nan Goldin, Cookie at Tin Pan Alley, NYC, 1983. ©​ Nan Goldin. Courtesy of Matthew Marks Gallery.

Dixon and her co-owners also face some flattering competition from hopeful upstarts. “Let’s just say, small neon bars named after a woman have been very popular since we opened,” she avers. Like all the best artists, the best art bars take inspiration from their predecessors while creating spaces for radical new conversations. If these newcomers can encourage creativity and community in striking, novel ways—cheers to them.

Meanwhile, artists have long been migrating from Manhattan to Brooklyn en masse. In 1992, as Williamsburg was becoming a creative outpost, New York magazine writer Brad Gooch designated Kings County as the “New Bohemia” (not without pushback—one commenter noted how the article glamorized crime-ridden streets). Now filled with more bankers than struggling artists, the neighborhood maintains at least one oasis for artists: Soft Spot still serves sub-$6 drinks before 8 p.m.

Other than that, you’re more likely to find creatives patronizing Bushwick bars farther east, where rent is (relatively) reasonable. At Honey’s, bartenders pull drafts from beer taps designed by Whitney biennial artist Jessi Reaves. It’s also a quick trip from two of the borough’s best galleries: Signal and Clearing. Further south, on the border of Bushwick and Bedford-Stuyvesant, the art space Secret Project Robot features a bar called Cuckoo. Here, visitors can drink after—or before—they view exhibitions and performances. Proceeds fund the gallery, and you can find parties nearly every night (past themes have included “super prom,” “goth,” and “flea market”). What happens when real estate developers inevitably push all of the patrons out of this area, too? If history is any indication, New York will always offer somewhere for artists to drink and commiserate.

from Artsy News

[starbcrn-kids]

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Damian blinked rapidly, listening, watching, finally finally connecting the dots. “…. oh. Oh. Oh God.”

Scott lowered the glowstick, taking a step back, giving Alexa room. He looked over his shoulder at Dahlia, nodding in agreement. “I always kept an eye out. Listening for any clues on where they kept all of you. Making sure nobody caught us.” He smiled weakly at Alexa, at his little girl. “Never stopped thinking about all the possibilities…”

Alexa wrapped her arms around herself, sticking close to the corner she was in. She didn’t… didn’t know how she felt about all of this. She’d always thought about them, about where they could’ve been, if they were even alive…

“I don’t even know your names,” she said quietly.

"There it is," Hannah mumbles.

Dahlia smiles weakly. "We never gave up. Even after we ran I was always thinking of you. Always. Wondering what you'd look like, how you'd turn out. And... now we have so much to catch up on. Maybe too much. But... I'm Dahlia. And I am so... so happy to meet you, Alexa."

CX-001 bites her lip, smiling weakly, but inside... she can't help but feel a little jealous of everything. Alexa's parents had looked for her, had wanted her and had clearly wanted to know her.

Her apparent father had run out of the room to throw up, and everyone got in between her and her mother.

She can't help that twinge of jealousy, but she sure as hell can ignore it, glancing away from the reunion.

[starbcrn-kids]

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Arthur looked over at Kyla, shaking his head. “No… No, I- I didn’t. Must’ve been above my clearance…” He cleared his throat, looking back at the girl. “But I recognize that energy. Sorta.”

DM-001 shifted around, nervous. She kept her hand pressed against the wall between her and the group, looking around at them all, trying to stay stabilized despite being… a little dizzy.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Mackenzie said softly, smiling. “It’s alright, okay? We’re like you, in a way. You’re safe, I promise.”

Dahlia sighs, worried, looking back at the girl, still holding onto Roxie. Lily finally clears her throat and turns back to the girl in spite of the very, very unusual circumstances with her. “It’s all right, lass. Okay?” She smiles gently at the girl, still trying to keep things open and safe. “Yer safe here. I swear tha’ much. I know this is a lot, lass, I know. But everyone here is here t’help.”

[starbcrn-kids]

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Arthur nodded to himself. Okay. Alright. Okay. He gestured for Lucille to follow, opening a space between himself and the door so she could pass through the crowd.

Mackenzie glanced around, looking to Dahlia. This was going to be… interesting.

Lucille stepped by, hands in her pockets, humming to herself. Fascinating. Not too far off from her TV shows.

Dahlia nods in agreement when Mackenzie looks at her, glancing to Roxie and Daisy, smiling at her girls and following behind Lucille.

[starbcrn-kids]

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“‘Kay, I suddenly like this a whole lot less,” Starla muttered to herself, stepping over to Lily and Arthur.

Lucille put her hands on her hips. “Oh, come on. I’m not gonna hurt you unless I need to.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m a lich. More specifically, lich-banshee-wraith.”

Mackenzie tensed, blinking rapidly, wrapping an arm around Grayson reflexively. “… I’m sorry, you’re what?”

“So they really wanted to control life and death,” Damian said from the doorway, having come in just behind Grayson, staring at the new arrival, unblinking.

“How do you think I got out?” Lucille smirked.

Lily cocks her head slightly, alarmed, glancing to Arthur as if silently asking him what the fuck. Shaking her head, she clears her throat and stands up straighter with her family.

Grayson leans more into Mackenzie’s embrace immediately, reaching up and grabbing her hand.

Dahlia chuckles. “I like her already.”

“Okay, I can’t be the only person who gets nervous hearing mom say that,” Roxie wrinkles her nose as she follows behind Damian.

[starbcrn-kids]

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“Hey, look, I know I’m stupid,” Damian said, holding up his hands, “but nobody’s explaining anything, so how do you expect the dumb one to get it?”

Alexa paused, staring at the man for a second before nodding silently to CX-001. If he was who she knew he was, he was safe near her.

Scott looked back and nodded to Hannah before stepping inside the cell once the barrier came down. He cracked the glowstick, getting a little closer to Alexa. “Computer, dim the lights.” As the lights went down a bit, he took a deep breath, then held the glowstick up to the girl’s face, feeling himself finally accept reality as the light reflected off the back of her eyes.

Alexa looked up at the man wordlessly, just taking everything in. He was… yeah. He was her father. Which had to mean that woman, she really was her mother. But… they never came for her. Not until now. Why?

"Context clues, like damn," Dahlia mutters. "I think Hannah gets it and she wasn't even there."

"I have a theory," Hannah admits with a small raise of her hand.

CX-001 nods back, letting him in. Alexa trusted this. She had a feeling they were all right about this.

Hannah watches what Scott does, nodding to herself. Yeah. Yeah, definitely. Okay.

Dahlia watches them, finally walking up to the cell, not asking to step in, not wanting to overwhelm her, but smiling weakly, teary eyed. Did she even know? Could she?

No, of course not. The words spill out before she can stop them. "We looked. Every fucking night, curfew would start, we'd get out and slip into all the locked areas. Sneak food out to the rest of them or other things they needed, sure, but we looked. We never gave up, not till the breakout. We wanted to find you before that so badly. We wanted to take you with us. I'm so sorry we couldn't get here any sooner."

[starbcrn-kids]

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Alexa squinted at the two watching her, staring back for a few moments before… she blinked, standing straighter. “… oh… oh…”

“Oh what?” Damian asked.

Scott rolled his eyes, finally breaking from Dahlia. “Christ. Hold on.” He stepped out for a second, returning quickly with a glowstick he’d replicated outside. He stepped up to the barrier. “Let me in.”

CX-001 nods. "He asked me about you, before... before we even came to get you."

Dahlia groans under breath. "Fuck's sake, Damian, really? You are... severely dumber than I give you credit for."

When the man comes back, CX-001 pauses, hesitant, glancing to Alexa for her approval first. Even if it makes sense, even if it's reasonable he wouldn't get hurt, she wants to know Alexa approves.

[starbcrn-kids]

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Alexa looked between CX-001 and the group behind her, lingering on two of them every time she glanced at them. The hybrid didn’t like strangers. She never had any strangers around, but in that moment she figured out she didn’t like them.

“Okay, that’s all fine and dandy, but who the fuck are they?” she asked, staying close to the back of her cell.

Scott was barely keeping himself together. She was there. She was alive. After all the time they spent searching for her, hoping she hadn’t been terminated, hoping she hadn’t been taken somewhere else away from them…

Despite everything he and Dahlia went through, they had never stopped looking for her… and they finally had her…

Damian looked between CX-001 and Alexa, trying to process. “I have no clue what’s going on.”

“You never do,” Scott half-mumbled, still focused on the teenage girl in the cell.

CX-001 nods, sighing. "They're... they're some of his old experiments, mostly. The first ones. I don't think everyone I've met is, but most of them are. He is." She motions to Damian, glancing back at the pair still holding onto each other, still staring at her. "And so are they. Alexa, I think that they're..."

"Yeah, that's no surprise," Dahlia mutters of Damian at the same time as Scott, still unable to pull her eyes away. She can feel herself shaking slightly, her breathing panicking, and she finally turns into Scott just a bit, gripping onto him, trying to keep them both together.

[starbcrn-kids]

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And just like that, time froze.

Scott squeezed Dahlia’s hand. She was real. He could take one look at her and see it on her face, see the way she held herself, this was who they’d been searching for. It was her. She was alive.

Alexa looked up from her corner, rushing to her feet. “Where is he, I haven’t seen anyone in-”

She stopped, spotting the people behind her. Alexa backed up from the cell wall. New. But… two of them… familiar?

Damian still had no idea what was going on. “Jesus Christ why is there a kid in the brig?”

Dahlia freezes, staring in shock, recovering enough to grab onto Scott’s arm more, staring, processing. It was her.

Oh, god, it was her.

Every night she’d spent, they’d spent, him standing guard while she searched, while she learned all the passwords and key codes and found where they hid badges, when they’d sneak out food and not have as much time but it was still enough to try--

And there she was.

Alive. Standing there.

Her.

Hannah huffs for air as she finally reaches the brig dead last, panting, resting her hands on her knees. Slowly, she looks up, freezing in shock. What the fuck?

CX-001 holds up a hand to Damian at what he asks, looking back at Alexa. “I know. I know. Something happened, I don’t... I don’t know the details. They told me... they say he’s dead. That he died trying to take a baby from somebody or something.”

[starbcrn-kids]

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Scott grabbed Dahlia’s hand, half-pulling her with him after CX-001. They had to get there. They had to see her.

After all that time, after everything, after years and years of never knowing…

Damian looked to Hannah, then to the girls, choosing to follow the others. He was confused, and he needed to know what was happening.

It was taking too long, too long, Scott needed to get there faster. He glanced around quickly but stayed on the path behind the girl, following that smell he knew so well.

Hannah hesitates, then glances to Lyssa, nodding to the other three and taking off after the rest of them. Scott was involved. She had to make sure he was okay.

Dahlia falls into pace with Scott near-instantly, rushing beside him. Had to get there, had to see her, had to know--

CX-001 finally manages to even her breathing out as she rushes down there. Just had to get to her, just had to get to her and everything would be fine.

She stops outside the doors and settles herself. No good to her if she’s panicked. Nodding slowly, she takes a breath and walks in slowly, cautiously, cocking her head at the girl in her cell. “Alexa?”

[starbcrn-kids]

unbrxken​:

Scott could almost feel her, even from there. Lyssa looked up from their bit as Scott walked into the room and past her. He didn’t even look at Dahlia, simply saying, “The brig.”

Lyssa blinked, looking up at Damian and the girl from earlier, standing and stepping the girl and Kyla. She may not have always been Kyla’s biggest fan, but she would do what she could to protect her from that.

Mara shielded Kyla away, looking down.

Dahlia turns when the doors open. She doesn’t even have to see them all to know, just Scott, just seeing Scott, the smile dies from her face, because she knows.

Kyla turns into Mara a bit, closing her eyes, trying to just breathe through it.

Two words, and Dahlia’s world stops. The brig. The brig. The brig, the brig, the brig--

She steadies her breathing, forces herself to, really, and nods. CX-001 nods and turns around, starting out, heading straight there. Has to get there, has to--

Hannah frowns, looking between Scott and Dahlia. The brig? What...

[starbcrn-kids]

unbrxken​:

They reached the transporter in record time, but Scott felt like it still wasn’t quick enough. He had to get to her. Had to see her. Had to know she was real and it was real and show Dahlia that she had been right the whole time. He was in the room before the door was even fully open, going straight for the transporter without a word, waiting on the other two to just hurry.

Lyssa looked over at Kyla, smiling and laughing a little. “Yeah, some goofy old shit, too. Disney oldies, maybe?”

“M-Maybe a big movie theater for cartoons?” Mara offered, half-heartedly holding up her own imaginary communicator. Freddie rolled her eyes at them all, but couldn’t hide her weak smile.

Lily blinks in shock and confusion at the trio arriving, raising an eyebrow but seeing the look on CX-001′s face and deciding not to question it as the other two climb up. Nodding once they’re settled, she sends them back to just outside sickbay.

Kyla sniffles but keeps her tiny smile, glancing up at Mara at that. Dahlia chuckles weakly. “And y’know, these places are too somber looking. Are streamers and balloons in the budget for them?”

[starbcrn-kids]

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“We’re not leaving her,” Scott said firmly, looking to Damian and nodding, though the other was still thoroughly bewildered and had no clue what was actually happening. Scott turned, nodding for the two to join him towards the transporter. “Now.”

“Scott-“ Damian began to warn, but Scott just looked at him deathly silent, the two sharing a momentary glare before Damian motioned for CX-001 to follow.

Melina didn’t meet her eyes, staying quiet until Ginger let her pass, making her way down the hall to anywhere other than there, anywhere else would be safer than there.

“Hey, Cap’n, we’re tired of getting kidnapped and tortured,” Lyssa said playfully into an imaginary communicator, “can we have a more fun kidnapping? How about a ball pit?”

CX-001 trembles slightly, watching the two in confusion and fear, nodding when Damian motions to her and turning briefly to the kids. “Be good. I’ll be right back. It’s okay. I promise.” And then she tears off after the two men. Has to get her. Has to get her out of there. Can’t leave her.

Dahlia laughs weakly, copying the other’s imaginary communicator. “Ooh, and a bouncy castle!”

“W-while we’re here, cap,” the weak, wobbly voice from the floor adds, and Dahlia turns to look at Kyla, still curled up against Freddie and Mara, face red and eyes puffy from all her crying, but a small smile as she also adds her imaginary communicator to the bunch, “Would it kill you to add some fun background music to it?”

[starbcrn-kids]

unbrxken​:

Scott felt something. A glimmer of something. Hope? Dread?

And then it clicked.

“She’s in the brig, isn’t she?”

Damian blinked, looking over to Scott, confused. What? Who was in the brig? He turned back to CX-001, holding up his hands. “Hey, hey, hey hey hey, okay, breathe, okay? We’ll go get her, okay? Who did you forget?”

Eve glanced between the others, motioning for Tayen. Tayen stood, ready to take charge with the little ones if Damian had to leave with the girl, but what was going on there?

Babies? Melina’s face went slack, her eyes going dim. Never again… never again. “I never had any.” Liar. “If you’ll excuse me.” She moved to step past Ginger.

Lyssa nodded, lowering the pipe, tapping the end on the floor. She sighed heavily. “God could we just have one time where we get kidnapped to a fuckin’ amusement park? Our major surprise of the week is an ice cream social?”

CX-001 looks at him, at the guy who’d came in and...

And it clicks. She nods rapidly. “She-- she’s, he said she was too dangerous. She’s too dangerous, we had to be careful. That’s why I have to go, I’m about all that’s left she’ll trust to keep her together, keep her from--” She swallows a lump in her throat, trying to calm down. “We have to go back. I can’t just leave her.”

Ginger holds her there for a moment, looks at her, sees it in her face. “You know goddamn well Hannah’s there with a tricorder. Don’t make her hunt you down. Take your time. Go alone if you have to, when the others are back. But don’t feed me that bullshit.” She moves aside at that.

Dahlia laughs weakly at that. “Who do we petition for that? Ed?”

[starbcrn-kids]

unbrxken​:

Damian watched her carefully, watching her begin to relax when Harry was with her again. He kept quiet but stayed ready to intervene if he really needed to. Harry hugged sissy tighter, closing his eyes and burying his face in her shirt. “Dorry…”

Scott skidded to a stop just outside the doors to sickbay as they opened, forcing himself not to process the number of children and just looking at each of them, trying to see… no. No, not any of them. He looked at the oldest of them, stepping into the room fully and crossing his arms.

If she recognized the feeling he put in a room… if… maybe, if…

“I DON’T HAVE ANY PUDDING!” Melina screeched, jumping about a foot at the knock, nearly flinging her pudding across the closet. She paused, clearing her throat, slowly going over to the door and pressing the button to open it. “… yes?”

“Hey,” Lyssa snapped back, pointing at Dahlia with the pipe. “I’m asking you if you think Kyla will be okay. She’s fucked up, and I’m worried. Don’t get snappy with me the one time I try to show concern for someone else, you’ll keep me from doing it again. Chill.”

CX-001 shakes her head. “No. No no. No sorry. My fault. My fault this time. I’m sorry, buddy.” She rubs his back, smiling weakly.

She looks up when the doors open again, freezing but trying to relax again. She turns her attention back... to... wait a second.

CX-001 pauses at the feeling in the room, at the familiar...

She shoots up, face paling. “I have to go back. I have to go back I have to go back I HAVE TO GO BACK RIGHT NOW--”

Claire jumps, starting to reach for the girl but CX-001 shakes her head rapidly, turning back to Damian. “Take me back, take me back, I left her, I left her, I forgot, I-- I have to, I have to you don’t understand--”

Panicking breaths escape her, her eyes turning black in that panic, barely containing the storm.

Ginger raises an eyebrow. “Dude. Replicators exist. I promise no one cares.”

Sighing, she shakes her head. “Look, there’s... there’s no easy way to put this. We found... we found babies over there, in tubes. Except they weren’t... they weren’t exactly like you guys. Not in the sense of just blended a few types in a tube. There were a few that were already out, one’s a teenager and... and she confirmed it. They’re...” Ginger clears her throat. “They’re crossbred from you guys. Dr. McCoy wants everyone over when they can bring themselves to do it. It’s your guys’ decisions that matter here.”

Dahlia sighs, relaxing a bit. “You’re right. Sorry.” She takes a breath, trying to relax, trying not to break down. “She’s got a good support network. And ‘okay’ is kind of relative. We’re gonna have a long road ahead. All of us, really.”