#all the sound design with Caine like took my breath away

[calkale]

FUCKING!!!!!! JOHN WICK 4!!!!!

[jinx-jade]

Secret Dreams Chapter 3: Meeting Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Damian was woken up from the dream zone like he usually was for the past eight years, by three sharp knocks on his door.

“Master Damian, Breakfast will be served in fifteen minutes. Please make sure to be up and ready by then.” Alfred informed him.

He got out of bed, moving towards his closet to grab an outfit. Once he had an acceptable outfit Damian went to the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day. 

He came out of the bathroom wearing a black turtleneck sweater, with a pair of dark jeans, black dress shoes, and a dark gray dress coat. His hair was spiked up into its usual gelled back spikes.

Leaving the quiet sanctuary that was his room, Damian ventured toward the loud morning chatter coming from the dining room.

“..hy do I have to be at some event planning meeting? Replacement is the one who works there, not me!” he could hear Todd argue. ‘Most likely with father’ Damian deduced using previous events as evidence for his claim.

“What’s this about Todd going to a W.E. meeting?” Damian inquired as he entered the dining room.

Bruce let out a sigh, too used to the children and their antics. “Jason, Tim, and Cass will be joining me at a meeting to go over the charity gala last-minute details.”

Damian simply raised an eyebrow. A clear question as to why.

“The people we are meeting with are Jared Stone, Penny Rolling, and Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Jared is most commonly known as the world-class rockstar Jagged Stone. Penny Rolling is a Jagged’s assistant and wife. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is most known as MDC, the designer for our gala outfits.” Bruce explains.

Damian nodded his head in acknowledgment. Being careful to keep his face blank as he was trained to do. After all, it wouldn’t do to give the game away just yet. Malak most likely wouldn’t forgive him if he ruined her fun.

The morning continued like normal once Jason finished throwing his fit about the ‘boring’ meeting he was being forced to attend. Alfred drove Bruce, Tim, and Cass to the meeting, while Jason insisted on taking his bike. Everyone knew that Jason was most likely taking another form of transportation so he could ditch the meeting if it got too boring.

Once they arrived at W.E., Alfred left to go pick up their gussets. While waiting for them Jason seemed to get bored already and started an argument over something pointless. Tim argued back with Jason, the argument moving back and forth between the two. This was common for them, most times they could be found arguing over something that will make no sense to anyone but them. It was simply the way they communicated with each other. It might not make sense to others, but it made sense to them.

Cass watched the argument in amusement. Trying to read in between the line to what they were saying. As difficult as it seemed to others, all her training at reading body language made it fairly simple to understand.

Bruce simply watches his children interact. They had all come along from where they were when he first took them in. While he might not say it out loud, he hoped they knew he was proud of them.

Their attention was pulled to the door as a knock was heard. Bruce got up and opened the door. 

“Jared, I’m glad you could make it,” he said welcoming them into the office. “Am I right to assume that these lovely ladies are your wife and niece?”

“That’d be a right on assumption” Jagged agreed. “This is my wife Penny Rolling, she’s also my lovely assistant.”

“It’s nice to meet one of Jagged's childhood friends, feel free to call me Penny.”

Jagged continues with the introduction, “And this little rockstar is my niece and designer, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne. You can call me Marinette, my last name is a bit of a mouth full.” 

“Please call me Bruce, there’s no need to be so formal.” Once Marinette nodded her head, Bruce started to introduce his kids. “These are a few of my children. My second eldest son Jason Todd-Wayne, my second youngest son Timothy Drake-Wayne, and my daughter Cassandra Cain-Wayne.”

All the Waynes noticed that Jagged’s niece seemed no older the Damian, but according to the public, MDC has been a designer for the past six years. That would have made MDC somewhere between the ages eleven and thirteen, depending on her current age, when MDC had first started designing.

Marinette had smiled at them before taking a seat on the office couch, pulling out what seemed like a sketch, most likely to work on a design. The Waynes, Jagged, and Penny were the main holders of the conversation. Marinette mostly stayed out of the business conversation, only really talking when the conversation had to do with herself.

Everyone heard a noise that sounded like someone holding back laughter. Only to see that it was Marinette. There hadn’t been anything funny or amusing said in their conversation. No one asked what was so funny, only look in her direction for an explanation. Marinette had simply raised an eyebrow towards them until they went back to the previously abandoned conversation.

Their conversation was resumed until they heard Marinette say, “Mood” under her breath. All attention had turned to her, but she simply ignored the attention. The conversation slowly started back up. Looking in Marinette’s direction every once in a while.

One of the times they look to Marinette only to see her and Cass in some sort of staring contents. They watched for a bit before a smile appeared on Cass’s face.

“Can we keep?” Cass asked gesturing to Marinette, which made Marinette burst laughing. Much to the confusion of everyone else.

Realization appeared on Bruce’s face. “You can’t just ask to adopt people out of nowhere Cassandra,” Bruce said with a sigh.

“Keep?” Cass asked again with her best puppy dog eyes. Bruce simply shook his head, causing Cass to pout.

This interaction made no sense to the Waynes. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was certainly an interesting individual. They would have to ask Cass why she wanted to adopt Marinette later, but Cass's pout seemed to be the last straw as everyone burst into laughter.

tag list: @little-bluestar @redbullgivescaswings @stackofrandomstuff @meismu @maskedpainter @nyx-in-line @iamabrownfox @m0chik0furan @jjmjjktth @icerosecrystal @machichannx @a4-machete @our-preciousss @justafanwarrior @animegirlweeb @loopingtangent @buginetye @blueslushgueen @solangelo252 @officiallydarkgreek

[peppersonironi]

Batfam/Avengers Crossover Chapter Five: The Assassins’ Bond

Tagging: @the-fair-maiden-of-fandom

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: Gen

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types

Relationships: Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Natasha Romanov & Damian Wayne, Clint Barton & Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tim Drake & Duke Thomas, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Dick Grayson/Wally West, Roy Harper/Koriand'r/Jason Todd,

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Barbara Gordon, Justice League (DCU), Alfred Pennyworth, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, Thor (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, Alfred the Cat (DCU), Bat-Cow (DCU), Goliath (DCU), Selina Kyle’s Cat Isis, Kate Kane (DCU), Duke Thomas,

Additional Tags: Batbrothers (DCU), Avengers Meet The Batfam, MCU/Batfam crossover, Crossover, no beta we die like robins, rated T for Jason’s language, I bleeped it out though. Just to be safe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, canon? What’s canon?, Deaf Clint Barton,Deaf Character, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Happy Batfamily (DCU), Birdflash and joyfire are implied/referenced,

Summary: Nat sets out on her assignment to gather information about the bats, and ends up talking with Damian.

Natasha couldn’t seem to find anyone to investigate, which was weird. Usually, when she wanted to find someone, she did.  Nat hadn’t seen any of the other Avengers either, which was also strange.

So Natasha wandered the halls of the manor. She had already checked the Cave, though it was also empty.

After half an hour, Natasha turned to the gardens. She wasn’t really searching at that point, only enjoying the early afternoon breeze. But soon enough, she heard sounds of laughter.

Following it, Natsha wound through a shaded path to find a large lawn occupied by the bats, as well as Peter, Banner, and Thor.

They were in the middle of what seemed to be an extreme version of capture the flag. Nat looked for someone to talk too, but they were all invested in the game. Then she noticed Damian on the sidelines, inside a clearly marked square that must have been the ‘prison’. He looked angry, and seemed to be passing the time by doing drills with his katana. Once again, Natasha was struck by how precise he was.

"Hey kid."

Damian glanced at Natasha, clearly suspicious.

"Hello Romanoff, do you want something?''

Nat smiled. “Call me Natasha. And no, not really. You looked bored, so I thought I’d offer you some company.”

Damian scoffed and returned to his drills. Natasha sat down, and was soon joined by a large dog whom she had never seen before. "Is that your dog?" She asked.

Damian nodded stiffly. "Yes his name is Titus."

Nat looked at Titus with gentle eyes. "Hi Titus." She reached out her hand for the dog to sniff. Titus obliged, and then began to nussle  her hand, quickly warming up to Nat.

Damian’s whole demeanor changed at the sight. He relaxed significantly, and even had a soft smile on his face. “He likes you," Damian said as he set his katana aside and joined Natasha on the grass.

Nat smiled right back at him as she began to pet Titus. "Titus is a great name for him. Latin right?" Damian nodded. "You know the meaning?"

Damian scoffed. "If I didn't then I wouldn't have named him Titus. An honorable dog deserves a name that literally means `title of honor’."

Nat chuckled, surprising even herself. "I like you kid, you've got spunk.” She nodded over at the now abandoned katana. Time to see what she could get out of him. “And your fighting technique is impressive."

Damian’s face became a mixture of guarded and prideful. "Of course it is, I was trained to be the best."

"Well your father sure does a good job."

Damian pursed his lips and remained silent for a moment before replying. "He didn't train me. I … was trained by my mother."

Nat looked over at him softly. “The one that Jason blames for him killing?”

Damian scowled. “Yes. My mother is responsible for bringing my brother back from the dead using the Lazarus pit which is … not quite magic. The pit induces its user with enhanced aggression, and memory loss which she utilized to manipulate Todd to her will.”

Natasha sat still for a moment. She really didn’t know what to think. On the one hand, that did partially explain Jason’s references to murder. On the other hand … the woman sounded horrible.

“Why would she do that?” Nat asked quietly.

Damian stroked Titus for a long moment before replying. “My mother is part of a group called The League of Assassins - led by my grandfather - that is dedicated to … saving the world.”

Natasha almost raised an eyebrow at that. Assassins and world-savers really didn’t seem like they would go together well.

“Not like you saved the world,” Damian continued, “But through brutal, unforgiving justice. They wish to reform civilizations across the world into total submission to my grandfather.

“So my mother took it upon herself to take in a newly raised from the dead Jason Todd, train him, and set him upon Gotham. Her point to it all was to harm my father, who is very much against League ideals.”

There was a sudden shout of triumph from the game, and the pair looked over at Tim crowing over a downed Peter Parker. They were silent for a long time, watching the game play out. Finally, Nat took it upon herself to speak.

“I never knew my parents. I grew up in a top secret Soviet-Russian training facility designed to create the perfect operatives, or assassins.” She took a breath as she looked over at Damian.

The boy had shed his smirks and scowls. His eyes were wide and innocent. There was a quality of quiet hope in his face. Like he was amazed that someone else could understand him.

“You’re like me,” he whispered. Then raised his voice slightly. “I was trained from birth. Mother and grandfather wanted me to be the heir. The perfect heir. I was taught every conceivable way to kill, to torture, to withstand any injury.” Damian was no longer looking at Natasha. His eyes showed that he was in another place. Another time.

“We were chained to the bed at night to prevent escape,” Natasha replied. “Sometimes they would make us fight to the death. To weed out the unworthy.”

“Weakness was not tolerated. The moment I made a mistake I was punished. I was to take it willingly.”

“When we trained with guns, they gave us real people to use as targets.”

“Emotions were a liability. I was to never show any, I was never to trust anyone. Not my trainors, not my servants, especially not my own mother.”

“We weren’t to trust each other either. Sometimes they would randomly order to kill your friends, and you had to. Otherwise you were killed.”

Damian sighed. “The worst part was leaving. Mother dumped me with Father - for training she said. I was to learn what I could from him. And I did, I learned a lot. But not what she wanted me to.” He looked over wistfully at his family. “I learned to trust. I had to believe I wasn’t invulnerable. I … I had to learn what it felt like to be … wanted .”

Natasha nodded at him, though he wasn’t looking at her. “Clint was sent to kill me, after I had been an operative for a while. I was the best, so people began to take notice. So S.H.I.E.L.D. sent Barton to eliminate me. But when he found me, he didn’t. He … had mercy on me. Something I had never known. He recruited me. I worked with him, and S.H.I.E.L.D. to help people instead of killing them. I had to relearn almost everything.”

They sit in a comfortable silence for a while. Neither bothering to pity the other. Just enjoying the companionship of another like them.

Then Nat spoke up again. "I'm not good with …" Natasha paused trying to find the right words. "Comfort. But, I understand"

Damian looked at her, then nodded. “I understand as well.”

They sat together for a while, looking at the game progressing. They talked about their lives, and even started to explain their families as well. Damian talked briefly about Bruce’s tragic childhood experiences, as well as Dick’s. He went into detail of Jason’s death and then resurrection. Tim’s becoming Robin. His neglectful family. Damian explained Cassandra’s past, and how Duke lost his parents. He mentioned Stephanie and Barbara, and how they joined the vigilante life as well. He didn’t go into detail, though, saying that their stories were not his to tell.

In return, Natasha talked about befriending Clint. How Steve became Captain America. How Tony built his suit. Banner’s experiments, and how he became the Hulk. How Thor found himself on Earth. What she knew of Peter, and how he became Spiderman.

“Do you trust me?” Damian asked, looking over at Nat when she had finished speaking.

Natasha smiled. “Yes. I’m assuming that’s what your goal was?”

Damian had the nerve to not look apologetic. “We may or may not have overheard your entire conversation after lunch.”

Nat nodded, she had figured as much. The Boy had been almost a bit too loose lipped in the beginning. But she could tell that as the conversation went on, he spoke freely because he wanted to, and not because he was trying to supply info.

“Did you draw the short straw?” Natasha asked.

Damian scowled. “T-t, no. Father said that if any of you were to question us or our motives, we should hold nothing back. You had the nerve to approach me first.”

Natasha laughed freely and ruffled the boy’s hair. He frowned, but didn’t push her hand away.

“Do you trust me now?” He asked, tentatively.

Natasha paused and tilted her head. “Yes, I think I do. You didn’t lie to me, I know that.” Damian rolled his eyes, and Natasha smirked a bit. “But also, you and I are similar. I don’t think I could distrust you if I tried.”

Damian nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Good, I would not want to disappoint Father.”

Natasha smiled. “I don’t think he would be disappointed if I didn’t trust you. He seems quite reasonable.”

Damian outright snorted. “Say that again when I have a slight cold and he won’t let me on patrol. He can be quite unreasonable in mother-hen mode. Not unlike Grayson, unfortunately.”

Nat chuckled. “He loves you. That’s important.” There was another shout of victory from the field, then Natasha continued. “What about me? Trust goes both ways, you know.”

Damian frowned in concentration. “Yes, I believe you have earned some trust. I don’t know about Stark though, he seems … unstable.”

Natasha couldn’t help but outright laugh at that statement. After a moment of surprise, Damian joined in.

“That,” Natasha said between huge gasps of laughter, “Is by far the best thing I have heard in a long time.”

“Do you deny it?” Damian asked.

Natasha was almost crying from laughter. “No, not in a million years.”

Damian smiled at Nat. “Thank you, Romanoff. For talking. I believe you will make a valuable ally.”

“Call me Natasha, kid. Or Nat. Or Tasha. I don’t care. But not Romanoff. Friends aren’t so formal.”

Damian furrowed his brows for a moment before relaxing. “Very well, Tasha. We are now friends?”

Natasha smiled at Damian. “If you want to be.”

The boy pet Titus for a few thoughtful moments. “Very well. I accept. Together, we shall be a formidable force.”

Nat chuckled, ruffling the kid’s hair once again. This time, he didn’t bother frowning.

Just then, a voice called from the field. They both looked over to find Dick running up to them. “Dami! I’m so sorry! I thought someone had gotten you out! Well, the game’s over. Want to join in the next round?”

“T-t. Of course you forgot. If this had been in the field, I could have been killed by now.”

Dick smiled easily at his little brother. “So, what do you say?”

Damian glanced at Nat before replying. “Very well, I shall partake once again in your childish games, Grayson.” Then he smirked. “But I demand that Tasha be on my team. Since you are clearly untrustworthy.”

Dick looked curiously over at Natasha, a small smile on his face. “Sure Lil’ D. Let’s go.”

He motioned for the pair to follow him, then turned and ran off back toward the field.

Damian looked over at Nat. “You will be on my team?” He looked like he was trying to hide how hopeful he was.

Natasha got up and offered her hand to Damian. “Together, we shall be a formidable force, right?”

Damian grinned at her and accepted her hand. “Our reign of terror shall be legendary.”

[vln-vibes]

Watchtower Woes

Week 1 Day 4 of Maribat March

Special thanks to @little-kitty-kanny , @ethelphantom and @the-navistar-carol  for beta-ing for me

It was a normal day at the Watchtower, well as normal as a space station for superheroes could be. The Watchtower looked down upon their home planet, making it seem so big yet so small amongst the sea of stars surrounding them. Today it was just Wonder Woman, Black Bat and Ladybug on monitor duty.

“Sister.” 

Ladybug, otherwise known as Marinette Drake nee Dupain-Cheng (the 23-year old designer behind the Lady Luck designs by MDC company), turned to see Wonder Woman looking at her with concern. She and Diana were rather close as the Amazonian princess had practically taken her as blood sisters when she learned of a new Ladybug; seeing as her mother had once worn the mantle as well.  Diana had also been her business partner when her company first began to take off.

“Are you feeling alright? You seem to be under the weather”

“She’s right,” Cassandra Cain-Wayne added in “Your center is off, you seem uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine. It's been a little stressful with the upcoming line with Wayne Enterprises,” Ladybug sighed, finding herself massaging her temple, feeling a headache already developing. “That and the team has been acting strange lately, I’ve been trying to investigate the cause, but the Miracle Book isn’t saying much, and I can’t exactly ask Master Fu anymore”

“How so, Ladybug?” Diana asked, taking a seat next to her while Cass took charge of looking through the security footage for them, still focused on the conversation.

“Well, most of them have gotten dangerously overprotective of me. Just yesterday Roi Singe took a hit for me against Hawkmoth 2.0’s latest creation. I asked him about it afterwards, and he just said that nothing could harm me? It was rather strange, especially seeing as Ryuuko and Abeille got more ruthless afterward. Chat was also hissing at people who approached me,” she explained with a troubled look.

“Even as civilians, Viperion, Monarch, and Paon were coddling me: Mari are you warm enough? Have you eaten today? No, Mari, let me get you a natural juice instead of coffee. It’s been so frustrating having to deal with their constant  babying.”

“It’s honorable for your team to care for your well being” Diana commented, heavens knew  how the JL got  whenever one of their members was  ill or was unable to perform their duties. Ladybug’s eyes just seemed to water at the implication, wiping the tears before they even fell.

“B-But that could just mean they don’t trust my abilities… what if they think I’m not worthy of being leader or even worse… of being Ladybug?” 

Diana did her best to console the younger woman while Cass looked at her skeptically.

She had seen the sudden change in emotion Ladybug had gone through like whiplash, from tired to content to worried to saddened. As Diana combed through Marinette’s pixie cut, Cass continued to think of the things happening these past few weeks.

Tim had once asked Barbara if there was anything that could help with back pains, stating that Marinette had been experiencing some rather hard period symptoms.

She recalled Adrien purring along with Alfred the Cat when they had gone to Wayne Manor last week along with Tim and Conner. Even Ace and Titus were acting like her personal bodyguards, not too different from normal, though Damian admitted that it was a bit more overkill.

Just last month for the Wayne Charity Gala, during the ladies’ final fitting, she had complained to Steph that her own dress felt a little tighter than she expected... though not unbearably so, so she had just decided to leave her own dress as is.

Had it really been so obvious?

She needed to recheck whether Tim deserved the title of Detective after this. Cass stepped out of the room momentarily to make what was potentially a life changing call.

“Robin and Superboy, do you read?” she knew her baby brother, almost eighteen years old, would be hanging out at the Titans Tower in the east coast with Superboy, now sixteen, but seeing as it was a quiet day and the other Titans: Green Lantern (Milagro Reyes), Nightstar (Mar’i Grayson), Scarlet Flash and Kid Speed (Dawn and Don Allen), and Speedy(Lian Harper) would be on standby.

“Is something the matter Black Bat?” Damian responded almost immediately.

All Bats were rather keen on making sure their comms were on in case of emergencies, even when silenced, they’d have the notifications on to see who was trying to contact them.

“Do you mind coming to the Watchtower with Superboy, there’s something concerning Ladybug𑁋”

“Is she alright?” she almost giggled at how concerned her brother was before keeping her cool and responding.

“I believe she’s alright but perhaps not aware of her condition”

“We’ll be there in a minute”

Not even a full minute after stepping back in with a much calmer Ladybug, did she hear the announcement of Robin and Superboy’s arrival before the two skid into the communications room with the three heroines.

“Robin and Superboy? I wasn’t aware you boys would be passing by today,” Diana asked curiously as Damian just puffed up.

“Black Bat called about checking Ladybug’s condition” he said eyeing the scarlet hero to see if anything was amiss; other than her red rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks he found nothing unusual.

“My condition? Cass what are you talking about?” Ladybug asked confused and a bit protective.

“Superboy,” Jon perked at his name before turning to Cass “Can you hear the heartbeats in this room?”

“Uh sure…” to say he was confused was an understatement. He was rather familiar with their heartbeats, having known them for years at this point. He could hear Diana and Damian’s rather war drum like beat, Cass’ steady and rhythmic beats, Marinette’s calm and slightly faster than usual heart and then there was𑁋

Wait, what?

“That’s weird” he whispered to himself before focusing again. Sure enough it was still there a soft echoe of duhn-duhn… duhn-dun as the fifth heartbeat. But he had never heard it before… and it was coming from…

Oh duh!

“Holy schmoly! Congrats Ladybug.” He flew up to her and gave her a huge hug, conscious of his strength now more than ever. Ladybug seemed confused while Cass smiled at her.

“You’re expecting!”

Suddenly everything made more sense, Marinette thought in that moment of realization, as she felt Diana give her her own congratulations along with Damian, who wished to both brag and inform the rest of the family.

This was really happening.

“Can— can we see Doctor Mid-Nite or Doctor Thompkins, please?” she heard herself whisper. The group looked at each other, Diana contacting the Watchtower’s doctor while Damian called for Tim and the rest of the Bat Family to come as soon as they could; was that overkill? Perhaps, but no one that was even associated with the Bats could be anything less than dramatic. Jon was the one who called Conner who called Adrien to go meet them at the Watchtower as well.

Half an hour passed and Ladybug found herself lying on one of the Med Bay beds with Doctor Thompkins, the woman having to be pulled until they mentioned Marinette requesting her assistance, making the last few configurations to the ultrasound machine.

“Are you ready, dear?” the kind doctor asked.

 Ladybug lifted her uniform, which she learned she could do at that moment, nearly squirming at the cold gel spreading at her softening abdomen.

“As ready as I’ll ever be” she laughed nervously before taking a deep breath. She couldn’t help but close her eyes, unsure if she wanted it to be true or not, before hearing the curtain open. Tim looked disheveled, most likely having come out of a W.E business meeting he had mentioned yesterday evening.

“Mari, what’s wrong!?”

Duhn-duhn…. Duhn-duhn… duhn-duhn

Marinette had never heard such a life-altering sound, feeling the tears swell in her eyes as her husband looked dumbfounded.

“Is— is that?” Marinette could only nod before being enveloped in a hug by him. He whispered sweet nothings and reassurances to her as the beautiful sound echoed in their heads.

“God, we’re going to be parents, sunshine”

“So it would seem, moonlight”

“M’Lady what’s—!” Chat Noir had sprinted from the zeta entrance having heard the far too soft heartbeat coming from the monitor, the Bats not far behind him. Suffice to say that the Watchtowers usual quiet was interrupted for the rest of that evening as cheers and congratulations went around the Med-Bay.

They would later learn that she had been nearly three months pregnant by the time they found out, explaining her team’s odd behavior due to the animal characteristics of the Miraculous. However, the worst news was to come a week later on one faithful morning.

“Oh kwami, get that away from me!” Marinette exclaimed as soon as she came out of their room in their studio apartment in Gotham. The scarlet hero having to rely on Pegasus for travel to and from Paris for the time being. Not that her team even wanted her on the field in the first place at the time but she was anything if not stubborn, a necessity for the Wayne family.

That was how the coffee obsessed duo discovered that Marinette and baby were disgusted by the mere smell of coffee. Truly, it was the hardest part of the pregnancy.

Six months later, when Thomas Louis Drake-D.C was born, his aunts and uncle would continuously call him the ‘Second Coming of Christ’ for doing the impossible and getting his parents to cut off their caffeine addiction, much to their annoyance. 

For now they were just a family of three, looking at the infinite stars of their baby’s eyes.

My AO3

Ko-Fi

[zambie-trashart]

Land of the Free and Home of the Wayne 12

masterlist

ao3 whole story

“Alright who are you two?” the blonde asked trying to speed up the process.

“Uh, you don’t know,” Ladybug asked hoping that she could still get out of this.

“If she did, she wouldn’t be asking you,” the boy groaned and something about him was familiar to the two Parisians.

“Shut up and let me do this, dear Rao you’re so stupid,” the girl groaned. “Now who are you?” she asked eyes glowing red.

“We’re fans and trying to become heroes like you guys,” Chat said with cool confidence.

The blonde girl laughed a little and the boy just smiled. “Then you my friend are going to need a new costume cause there’s already a crazy cat lady who like to kidnap my nephew for tea and you little lady are going to need to tone that down a little cause it’s kind of obnoxious,” she said pointing at the costumes making both of them blush.

“Don’t mind her, this is Supergirl and I’m Flamebird cause Nightwing was already taken, that down there is our foster father, uncle, cousin and our little brother nephew. Our family is complicated but if you want to learn how to fight, now’s your chance,” the boy said smirking and the two ran off the roof and the Supers started calling things out to each other taking down Doomsday in a matter of seconds. The two from before, Superboy, and Robin came up to the roof.

“Didn’t feel like helping?” Supergirl asked dusting off her skirt.

“You guys are such a well-oiled machine, we didn’t want to get in the middle of that,” Ladybug said nervously.

“Really cause the fight at Wayne Tower you caught Superboy when he fell out of the sky after a bomb exploded,” Robin pointed out.

“Did that hurt?” Supergirl asked, looking him over.

“Kind of,” Superboy said back, making Supergirl squeeze him.

“Next time you should really just go for it instead of hanging in the background, it’s a lot more fun that way,” Flamebird winked, flying off with Supergirl and Superboy to meet up with Superman.

Robin stared down Ladybug and Chat, not letting them go just yet. “Why are you here?” he asked and Chat gulped.

“We’re here because Paris is quiet and we wanted a little adventure so we snuck on the plane that was coming with the students on it,” Ladybug said and Chat took a sharp breath in and Robin nodded.

“Good to know, so you wouldn’t happen to know Lila Rossi, I hear she talks about me a lot, perhaps if she’s no longer dating that Damian guys we would be a good couple,” Robin tested.

“Lila Rossi is a liar and has hurt more people than you can imagine, she makes our lives miserable and she can’t be trusted,” Ladybug blurted out and Robin just smirked.

“So you got on a plane looking like that to keep an eye on her I suppose?” Robin asked knowing that they got on that plane in normal clothes sitting there as Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“Y-yes,” Ladybug knew that she was losing and a door went flying open and Jon was standing there with his father, brother, and aunt behind him all of them wearing glasses and dressed adorably casual. Jon adjusted his sweater and Kara did as well fixing the top of their button-ups. Clark adjusted his tie back to the center of his shirt and Conner looked down to make sure that his fly was actually up because last time it was embarrassing.

“What are you doing up here?” Clark asked, pulling his kids back in a false sense of security. Clark saw the way the cat boy looked over his son (not Connor that would be weird but Jon) and heard his heart rate go up.

“Clark, let the kids mingle. Be off the roof in five minutes otherwise, Perry will be up here and you don’t want to deal with Perry again do you Robin?” Kara asked and Robin swan dived off the building. The Parisians followed and were soon back in the building in normal clothes as a family of five stood in front of them adjusting their clothes every few seconds like it was a tic that they had and their clothes didn’t fit right.

“Hello everyone, my name is Clark Kent, these are my kids Connor and Jon. Connor is an intern here and my cousin Kara writes here for the paper,” Clark started showing the students around and noticed the same heartbeat in the back and green knowing eyes staring at Jon. The tour went by faster than a normal tour would but the kids had to be back by four to help Alfred.

Clark smiled as the students walked out telling them that he would see them soon and at the gala too. Clark grabbed the shoulder of the blonde boy holding him in front of him.

“I see the way you look at Jon and who wouldn’t look at him like that, but he’s too young for you. You’re like seventeen and he’s only fourteen, it’s not a healthy relationship. I will however make an exception for you because you seem to have a heart of gold but I will rip that heart out and eat it for dinner with Kara and Conner on my side if you ever hurt him.” Clark let Adrien go back to the car and he sat down next to Jon eyes wide. Bruce stood back with Clark whispering something to him that made his eyes flicker red. Bruce got back in the car and Aflred started driving.

“What did you say to my dad?” Jon asked leaning on Adrien again as the blonde pet his hair.

“Just something about Lila is all, he’ll have a talk with her next time and maybe he’ll threaten to eat her heart too.”

“If she has one,” Chloe said and she got a few laughs. It really was bad though how she was never going to be exposed. Jon fell asleep with his head on Adrien’s lap and low chatter stirred through the car as Marinette went out too head resting on Damian’s shoulder making the boy blush slightly. They got out of the car and ate dinner going up to their rooms for the night.

Jon and Adrien laid down staring at the ceiling and Damian laid in the room next door awake thinking about how everyone seemed to be in a relationship except for him. Jon and Adrien had each other and Jon even lost the bet cause he wanted to be with Adrien so bad, Mar’i had Kagami who was nice to her and called her sweet names, who did Damian have though? Damian felt like he was going to be left out on the little Parisian couple list. He liked Marinette but how was he supposed to tell her that without sounding like a complete wuss?

Damian stood up and paced around his room until eventually there was a knock on his door and when he opened it, Jon was standing there glaring at him.

“What’s up with the pacing?” Jon asked, inviting himself in.

“Won’t your human pillow be missing you?” Damian asked, nodding to the room next door.

“I don’t think he’ll notice, what’s wrong cause I’d actually like to sleep tonight cause Diana is going to be here tomorrow and I have to think of a good compliment so she’ll let me train on an island of woman,” Jon said dreamily.

“Yeah, she’s not doing that,” Damian said, sitting uncomfortably straight on his chair. “How did you ask Adrien out?” Damian asked and Jon laughed head hitting Damian’s pillow.

“I didn’t, we just kissed and then things happened,” Jon said, blue eyes staring up at Damian giving him slight goosebumps. Jon had a way with making people like him no matter how much the person didn’t want to admit it. “Why? Are you going to ask out Marinette finally?” Jon asked all of a sudden in front of Damian feet in the air and chin in his hands laying on his bed.

“Maybe, it’s none of your business,” Damian said all of a sudden flustered.

“Come on Damiboo, I’m your best friend, aren’t you supposed to tell me everything?” Jon asked, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Go back to sleep farmboy,” Damian said pushing his friend out of his room.

“Love you Dami!” Jon yelled through the door.

When Damian woke up in the morning, he heard screaming and slipped on his slippers running down the stairs two at a time to see Troy, Gordon, Cain, and Brown all squealing at each other. Bruce walked by with a mug of coffee talking to Diana.

“Damian! You’ve gotten so much older!” Donna ran over picking up the boy with her Amazonian strength.

Jon walked down the stairs rubbing his eyes tripping down the last step. “What the goose guys it’s like five in the… Diana!” Jon ran over to the princess and jumped on her as she swung him around.

“How is my favorite warrior of man?” Diana asked, setting him down.

“Pretty good, settled down, got myself a man,” Jon said and Diana raised an eyebrow at him while the batgirls surrounded him demanding to meet this boy.

“I really hope they didn’t cause you any trouble Diana,” Bruce said referring to his kids and Barbara.

“Not at all, we just trained and that’s all, no missions or anything like that. I already finished your suit so there should be no problems there, it’s the students that I might need help with,” Diana said and Jon nudged Damian giving him the look.

“They have a designer in their class, perhaps she could help?” Damian asked and Diana looked up, thoughtful for a minute before nodding.

“That would be nice,” Diana said smiling and going to pinch the boy’s cheeks but he turned away dragging Jon with him.

“Did he just say something nice?” Steph asked and the other girls just shrugged before walking up to their rooms.

Damian sat on his bed, Jon next to him. “Are you sure you’re not sick or something?” Jon asked, going to feel his forehead with the back of his hand before it got slapped away by his friend.

“I’m not sick Jon, I just have these weird things in my stomach that make me feel like I’m floating whenever I talk about her.” Damian looked down and Jon just stared at Damian for a second before bursting out in laughter.

“Are you serious? You have no idea what having a crush feels like?” Jon asked, wiping a tear from his eye.

“No, how do I do this?” Damian asked, looking his best friend in the eyes.

“Pretend I’m her and just talk to me,” Jon said sitting up straight and fluttering his eyelashes making Damian smile a little.

“This is so dumb,” Damian said and Jon just gave him a look that said do you really want to argue with the person who has more experience with a romantic relationship even if it has been just a day? “Marinette, how is your morning?” Damian asked feeling so stupid.

“Just fantastic, how’s yours, Damian?” Jon asked, pitching his voice.

“Fine,” Damian said, going silent.

“Is there something you needed?” Jon asked, voice still high.

“I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go out sometime?” Damian asked hoping that Jon wouldn’t laugh at him.

“Like a date?” Jon asked, still batting his eyelashes.

“Yeah,” Damian said and Jon just smiled.

“Sure,” Jon said, sitting up suddenly and walking over to the door and saw Adrien stomping away angrily. “That’s not going to go well.” Jon ran after Adrien and Damian just face planted on his bed. He was right, that really was stupid.

............................

It was just a misunderstanding Adrien and hopefully you realize that sooner rather than later.

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[lilacandladybugs]

What’s your current relationship with god? I’m very curious lmao

I’m sorry if this sounds incomprehensible and rambly and disjointed or pretentious. I care a lot more about this than almost anything else in the world and I wish I could do a better job of explaining myself. But I feel like why I believe in God or what my relationship with him is like is like trying to explain who I am. And I’m just the accumulation of everything I’ve ever experienced or that I think and I feel like it’s really important that I communicate it correctly so here is my attempt.

Here’s a video that’s really good that I think will give some good background information. If you don’t want to read all of this, the video is probably enough to explain.

TLDR: This isn’t the way things are supposed to be. Death isn’t supposed to happen, it isn’t a part of the natural order of things. God loved us so much he died to fix it, and rose again to defeat death. God loves me and I love him, and I’ve never found peace or fulfillment like that in anything else.

I hope this makes sense anon let me know if you have any questions or if I misinterpreted your question. 

TW suicide // grief // abuse // rape mention (not v bad or graphic or anything)

Long version:

I think I've always thought that there's something naturally (for lack of a better word) poetic about existing. Not really meaning that it's good, but kind of that everything feels really purposeful it seems to flow together like an old epic. Everything seems intensely meaningful to me.

I've always thought that life was tragic. That death is a fracture in the way things are, like we live in the ancient ruins of a long lost civilization.

And I've always thought that life seems like an incomprehensibly wonderful gift, because how can there be tragedy if there isn't anything worth losing? But somehow it seems like peace is the basic way things are, that normalcy isn't normal at all but like this status quo of goodness which makes bad things happening not only heart breaking but surprising.

Reconciling all of those ideas is really confusing.

I'm a strong proponent of thinking analytically about what you believe since the answer we choose to the question of whether or not God exists is like quite literally something we bet our lives on. We bet our life that God exists or that he doesn't, that things have meaning anchored in an external source or that they don't. 

So while I grew up a Christian I've never felt really dead in it. I want to be uncomfortable. I want to be stubborn in asking questions and I don't have a problem with questioning authorities on why they believe what they believe—especially if they really confidently assert it. I want to be able to know things and understand them.

My junior year of high school three of my closest childhood friends died, and several others almost died. I remember sitting up at like two am listening to twenty one pilots self titled album just like seething and exhausted asking lord why would you abandon me like that?

Some other really horrible things happened to people that I cared about, I felt abandoned and rejected by Christians just for being broken, some of them caused it or contributed to the trauma and abuse. How could people who claimed the name of God do that?

My debate partner's best friend killed himself the same year that my friends died, and he became an atheist and I stayed a Christian. We fought about it a lot. I really seriously considered becoming an atheist.

The thing that I couldn't accept was the lack of eternality. 

Really ironically I think I stayed a Christian for the same reason that my friend became an atheist. We were both asking why all of the living world is crying out in anguish. We both wanted to die. We both were angry. We both were horrified.

My friend thought that the question of “where is God?” was harder to answer than “why is there meaning to death?”

I'm a Christian because I'm horrified. He's an atheist for the same reason.

If you don’t feel like reading it, here’s the TLDR: there is no reason for someone to do something or not do something if God isn’t there to tell them to. There isn’t a moral grounding for law.

Arthur Leff was an atheist law professor at Yale in the eighties, and he wrote about the moral grounding for laws in his essay, Unspeakable Ethics, Unnatural Law. The question he was asking was what can we do to ground morality? What can we do to prove objectively that there are things one ought to do and things one ought not do?

I am unwilling to accept that. There is something evil about abuse, neglect, rape, torture. There is something about these things that violates human rights, human dignity. There's something about them that goes against objective moral law.

But without God there is no moral law. So I wouldn't be able to say, "you should never rape someone, because rape is wrong." And everything that I had experienced flew in the face of that.

Dr. Leff wrote this about that question;

“All I can say is this: it looks as if we are all we have. Given what we know about ourselves and each other, this is an extraordinarily unappetizing prospect; looking around the world, it appears that if all men are brothers, the ruling model is Cain and Abel. Neither reason, nor love, nor even terror, seems to have worked to make us "good," and worse than that, there is no reason why anything should. Only if ethics were something unspeakable by us, could law be unnatural, and therefore unchallengeable. As things now stand, everything is up for grabs.

Nevertheless:

Napalming babies is bad.

Starving the poor is wicked.

Buying and selling each other is depraved.

Those who stood up to and died resisting Hitler, Stalin, Amin, and Pol Pot-and General Custer too-have earned salvation.

Those who acquiesced deserve to be damned.

There is in the world such a thing as evil.

[All together now:] Sez who?

God help us.”

In the end, it comes down to this; Do I believe that the complexity of the universe is because there was someone intelligent actively involved in its design, do I believe that information, reason, logic, emotion, and morality exist and are reliable because they have grounding in God’s identity? Do I believe that God is who he says he is?

And I guess the answer to those questions was yes.

I saw God. He was there in the stillness - in the sunrise and sunset and at 2 am after I couldn't cry anymore. I felt him. And I know part of his goodness that I wish I never had to know. I felt like I was lying breathless bleeding out in a gutter watching the stars. Almost like a pause - just a moment in time where I was hurt enough, still enough to hear his voice.

One of the most important things I learned is that life is not hopeless.  If life is a story, then the last chapter of the book has already been written. This is the premise of the song It is Well with My Soul by Horatio G. Spafford.

“When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, God has taught me to say,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought

My sin, not in part but the whole,

Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, o my soul” 

The powers of evil and darkness can take away my friends, my sanity, my family, and even my life, but God has already saved me, and I can find peace in spite of my circumstances. Three of my friends died, but God has already conquered death. I feel powerless, but God is powerful. I feel abandoned, but God loves me so much that he died a horrible torturous death for me. Living in light of that is peace. 

Whenever I felt like I couldn’t keep going there would be something to stop me. I heard his voice in music, and in my friends that held me when I cried, and in morning glories on my morning walk. I kept lists of all of the times this happened, every time that someone encouraged me to keep going, every time that someone would quote a Bible verse when I was crying out for God to answer me, every time that the world paused. Everything asked me the same question, do you think it means nothing? Do you think that there is a direction that we’re going? Are we coming from nothing and going toward nowhere?

I had friends who heard him too. He was so gentle to us. I wasn’t able to go to church, I wasn’t able to listen to worship music but the LGBTQ+ community took care of me, they were isolated from church as well. There was enough for me in that God promised he would take care of me, and he did. He died for me. He talked to my trans friend and said, “listen, your parents have rejected you and said you’ll never be your son, but I am a good father. I love you. Be my son instead.”

God mourned with me. He saw everything and he was angry. I was able to breathe because I knew that in the end there will be justice for abuse victims, because God said that he is the holder of justice, and vengeance will be his.

When one of my friends was hospitalized I stood outside during the beginning of a thunderstorm and watched the clouds and the sky darken and lightning flash across the sky.

Even the wind and the sea obey him. He asked me if I trust him. 

I guess my answer was yes.

In spite of everything that I went through, I was more thoroughly convinced that I ever was before that things matter. I was convinced that abuse is evil. I was convinced that death is an abomination. I was convinced that these laws of morality are woven into the fabric of the universe. I was convinced that God died to save us from that reality. I was convinced he loved me.

I still am

[in-the-whisper]

I’m sorry if this sounds incomprehensible and rambly and disjointed or pretentious. I care a lot more about this than almost anything else in the world and I wish I could do a better job of explaining myself. But I feel like why I believe in God or what my relationship with him is like is like trying to explain who I am. And I’m just the accumulation of everything I’ve ever experienced or that I think and I feel like it’s really important that I communicate it correctly so here is my attempt.

Here’s a video that’s really good that I think will give some good background information. If you don’t want to read all of this, the video is probably enough to explain.

TLDR: This isn’t the way things are supposed to be. Death isn’t supposed to happen, it isn’t a part of the natural order of things. God loved us so much he died to fix it, and rose again to defeat death. God loves me and I love him, and I’ve never found peace or fulfillment like that in anything else.

I hope this makes sense anon let me know if you have any questions or if I misinterpreted your question.

TW suicide // grief // abuse // rape mention (not v bad or graphic or anything)

Long version:

I think I've always thought that there's something naturally (for lack of a better word) poetic about existing. Not really meaning that it's good, but kind of that everything feels really purposeful it seems to flow together like an old epic. Everything seems intensely meaningful to me.

I've always thought that life was tragic. That death is a fracture in the way things are, like we live in the ancient ruins of a long lost civilization.

And I've always thought that life seems like an incomprehensibly wonderful gift, because how can there be tragedy if there isn't anything worth losing? But somehow it seems like peace is the basic way things are, that normalcy isn't normal at all but like this status quo of goodness which makes bad things happening not only heart breaking but surprising.

Reconciling all of those ideas is really confusing.

I'm a strong proponent of thinking analytically about what you believe since the answer we choose to the question of whether or not God exists is like quite literally something we bet our lives on. We bet our life that God exists or that he doesn't, that things have meaning anchored in an external source or that they don't.

So while I grew up a Christian I've never felt really dead in it. I want to be uncomfortable. I want to be stubborn in asking questions and I don't have a problem with questioning authorities on why they believe what they believe—especially if they really confidently assert it. I want to be able to know things and understand them.

My junior year of high school three of my closest childhood friends died, and several others almost died. I remember sitting up at like two am listening to twenty one pilots self titled album just like seething and exhausted asking lord why would you abandon me like that?

Some other really horrible things happened to people that I cared about, I felt abandoned and rejected by Christians just for being broken, some of them caused it or contributed to the trauma and abuse. How could people who claimed the name of God do that?

My debate partner's best friend killed himself the same year that my friends died, and he became an atheist and I stayed a Christian. We fought about it a lot. I really seriously considered becoming an atheist.

The thing that I couldn't accept was the lack of eternality.

Really ironically I think I stayed a Christian for the same reason that my friend became an atheist. We were both asking why all of the living world is crying out in anguish. We both wanted to die. We both were angry. We both were horrified.

My friend thought that the question of “where is God?” was harder to answer than “why is there meaning to death?”

I'm a Christian because I'm horrified. He's an atheist for the same reason.

If you don’t feel like reading it, here’s the TLDR: there is no reason for someone to do something or not do something if God isn’t there to tell them to. There isn’t a moral grounding for law.

Arthur Leff was an atheist law professor at Yale in the eighties, and he wrote about the moral grounding for laws in his essay, Unspeakable Ethics, Unnatural Law. The question he was asking was what can we do to ground morality? What can we do to prove objectively that there are things one ought to do and things one ought not do?

I am unwilling to accept that. There is something evil about abuse, neglect, rape, torture. There is something about these things that violates human rights, human dignity. There's something about them that goes against objective moral law.

But without God there is no moral law. So I wouldn't be able to say, "you should never rape someone, because rape is wrong." And everything that I had experienced flew in the face of that.

Dr. Leff wrote this about that question;

“All I can say is this: it looks as if we are all we have. Given what we know about ourselves and each other, this is an extraordinarily unappetizing prospect; looking around the world, it appears that if all men are brothers, the ruling model is Cain and Abel. Neither reason, nor love, nor even terror, seems to have worked to make us "good," and worse than that, there is no reason why anything should. Only if ethics were something unspeakable by us, could law be unnatural, and therefore unchallengeable. As things now stand, everything is up for grabs.

Nevertheless:

Napalming babies is bad.

Starving the poor is wicked.

Buying and selling each other is depraved.

Those who stood up to and died resisting Hitler, Stalin, Amin, and Pol Pot-and General Custer too-have earned salvation.

Those who acquiesced deserve to be damned.

There is in the world such a thing as evil.

[All together now:] Sez who?

God help us.”

In the end, it comes down to this; Do I believe that the complexity of the universe is because there was someone intelligent actively involved in its design, do I believe that information, reason, logic, emotion, and morality exist and are reliable because they have grounding in God’s identity? Do I believe that God is who he says he is?

And I guess the answer to those questions was yes.

I saw God. He was there in the stillness - in the sunrise and sunset and at 2 am after I couldn't cry anymore. I felt him. And I know part of his goodness that I wish I never had to know. I felt like I was lying breathless bleeding out in a gutter watching the stars. Almost like a pause - just a moment in time where I was hurt enough, still enough to hear his voice.

One of the most important things I learned is that life is not hopeless.  If life is a story, then the last chapter of the book has already been written. This is the premise of the song It is Well with My Soul by Horatio G. Spafford.

“When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, God has taught me to say,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought

My sin, not in part but the whole,

Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, o my soul”

The powers of evil and darkness can take away my friends, my sanity, my family, and even my life, but God has already saved me, and I can find peace in spite of my circumstances. Three of my friends died, but God has already conquered death. I feel powerless, but God is powerful. I feel abandoned, but God loves me so much that he died a horrible torturous death for me. Living in light of that is peace.

Whenever I felt like I couldn’t keep going there would be something to stop me. I heard his voice in music, and in my friends that held me when I cried, and in morning glories on my morning walk. I kept lists of all of the times this happened, every time that someone encouraged me to keep going, every time that someone would quote a Bible verse when I was crying out for God to answer me, every time that the world paused. Everything asked me the same question, do you think it means nothing? Do you think that there is a direction that we’re going? Are we coming from nothing and going toward nowhere?

I had friends who heard him too. He was so gentle to us. I wasn’t able to go to church, I wasn’t able to listen to worship music but the LGBTQ+ community took care of me, they were isolated from church as well. There was enough for me in that God promised he would take care of me, and he did. He died for me. He talked to my trans friend and said, “listen, your parents have rejected you and said you’ll never be your son, but I am a good father. I love you. Be my son instead.”

God mourned with me. He saw everything and he was angry. I was able to breathe because I knew that in the end there will be justice for abuse victims, because God said that he is the holder of justice, and vengeance will be his.

When one of my friends was hospitalized I stood outside during the beginning of a thunderstorm and watched the clouds and the sky darken and lightning flash across the sky.

Even the wind and the sea obey him. He asked me if I trust him.

I guess my answer was yes.

In spite of everything that I went through, I was more thoroughly convinced that I ever was before that things matter. I was convinced that abuse is evil. I was convinced that death is an abomination. I was convinced that these laws of morality are woven into the fabric of the universe. I was convinced that God died to save us from that reality. I was convinced he loved me.

I still am

[heartslogos]

executive assistant to the batman [56]

“Bold of you to assume you understand anything about Drake,” Damian says when he comes into the Cave looking stupidly put together for seven in the morning after a patrol that went on unit nearly three.

“You should be sleeping, Damian,” Dick says. Honestly, all of them should be asleep. Stephanie’s currently out in one of the empty med-bay gurneys. She came in, took one look at the stairs, swore quietly under her breath and threw herself in with a stern warning that if anyone so much as looks at her or breathes her name in the next twelve hours she’d personally  introduce her fist to their throat. “Don’t you have — “

Dick glances around for any sort of calendar that would ground him in time.

“Something?” Dick finishes lamely when he comes up with nothing. “Don’t you have something that normal teenagers do later today?”

“Are you implying that I have school, Grayson.” It doesn’t sound like a question. Damian finishes his descent down the stairs, wrinkling his nose as he passes by Jason and Cassandra, glancing towards the ramps that lead out to street-level. He rolls his eyes skyward like he’s tired of putting up with something when he sees Stephanie’s bike still crookedly parked in between Cassandra’s and Jason’s. “Don’t any of you have jobs to go to? Doesn’t Brown have a house to go to?”

Jason and Cassandra shush Damian violently, glancing back towards where the woman is sleeping.

“Why are you talking about Drake?” Jason asks instead.

“Because you were making a very bold assumption and I am here to warn you that you are wrong,” Damian says. “Did any of you even shower after you changed? Disgusting. I expected more from you considering you’re all attempting to pretend to be role models for me. Cain. Even you?”

Cassandra puts her head down on her folded arms, turning away from him. Jason glares at their youngest sibling.

“Look, it’s seven in the morning, we just came in at four because B sent you in early because you’re the baby — “

Damian’s eyebrow twitches violently but somehow he refrains from interrupting. That doesn’t — in Dick’s eyes that doesn’t bode well because if Damian’s refraining there’s a reason. The odds are heavily tacked against them in that reason being good.

“ — so you can’t just come in here and lecture us about how much we look like human garbage.”

Silence.

“Why aren’t you arguing back,” Jason asks, eyes narrowing, body stiffening. Dick doesn’t know if he’s preparing to run or preparing to fight. Dick’s eyes flick towards the ramps. His own bike is neatly stored away but if Stephanie’s out cold he can probably steal hers. Or. He could grab one of the cars. “Damian. What did you do.”

Damian smirks, “I didn’t do anything, Todd. You’ve a very suspicious mind, did you know that? You’re become more like Father every day.”

Jason gags.

“One. I do not have school. I did have an appointment later today, but I’m late.”

“Why do you look so happy to be late and to have missed something you were supposed to do,” Jason asks, eyes flicking around like that’s going to help him spot the truth of what’s about to descend upon them.

Dick stands up and starts making his way towards the cars. Cassandra’s leg shoots out and if it was anyone but her he’d have been able to dodge, but he ends up falling and almost braining himself on the cave floor. He kicks her. She lets him, but traps his leg with hers. He’s stuck here with the rest of them.

“At last one of us should survive whatever happens next,” Dick hisses at her. “It’s like how there’s always a designated survivor in case the President, VP, and Attorney General die.”

“Dick. I don’t know anything about the government.”

“Two, one of you was supposed to take me to that appointment.”

Jason turns to them. “Do any of you know what he’s talking about right now?”

“If I did do you think I’d be here?” Dick replies.

“Three,” Damian speaks over them. “It is not seven in the morning.”

They all stare at him.

Damian’s smirk could have been stolen from the Devil himself.

“It’s two in the afternoon,” Damian says. “You must have all passed out when you came in.”

“No.” Dick shakes his head, struggling to at least get onto his knees with Cassandra’s legs maintaining their strangle hold on his. “No.”

“I don’t crash like that,” Jason says. “I mean, I do crash. But not like that. I would know.”

They look at Cassandra.

“Why do you think time holds any meaning to me?” She asks serenely.

“Someone came to fetch me as they were concerned when I, quite uncharacteristically, failed to show for my eleven appointment.” Damian’s head tilts and the Cave’s system chimes the alert that means someone is entering through the elevator passage.

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Damian corrects. “As I said. Bold of you to assume that there was any place Drake would consider sacred enough to not go to to get what he wants.”

The three of them scramble. Well. Jason and Dick attempt to, Cassandra’s snagged them both.

They’re both dressed, down, but they all look like trash and they have no idea how —

Tim’s avoided the open secret of knowing for a very long time. He’s procured them weapons, suits, false identities, provided support from W.E. when they’ve been abroad, thrown up elaborate cover stories for them, and blatantly lied and obscured the truth in their favor at the drop of a hat for them. He’s driven the Batmobile before.

But they have no idea how he’s going to react to the Cave.

“How did he even know how to get down here?” Jason asks.

Damian hums, kicking out a chair to drape himself into in order to watch the bloodbath that’s about to begin. “He asked me to go check the antique clock since he was worried that perhaps I was late because it had fallen behind.”

“Where’s B? Surely B’s pissed him off enough at some point this week that he can unload on that first?”

“Father, as a capable adult with a driver’s license, left for his appointment on time hours ago. Good luck getting him to take the fall for this.”

The Cave system chimes that the elevator has arrived at the top of the stairs and seconds later they hear Tim Drake’s voice bellowing down and echoing throughout the Cave.

“Time might be a fake construct but it’s part of the social contract. If I don’t have one of you up here with an explanation of how you can be three hours late to your own event I’m going to have the event moved over to your front yard. You have to the count of ten.”

[the-star-knight]

Tales of A Star

Tales of A Star

Summary: A retelling of the show through Star’s eyes

Rated: T+

Chapter 1 - Aftermath of Before Ever After (Origins)

Word Count: 2,150

Author’s Note: I’ve tried to put Star’s start in a post series timing but it didn’t feel right, so instead i just jabbed her in the original show. Nothing major changes, think of it as more layers in the story. Also it’s through Star’s perspective so I try not to repeat anything that is unnecessary.  

Next Chapter ▶︎

I often think about how it is to live a normal life. You know, without having death breathing down your neck all the time or having the responsibility of being “the chosen one”. 

Having a normal life sounds nice. Not having that stress about thinking about what crazy thing that will get you almost killed today. I envy people who don't ever have to think that.

Anyways, I awoke really early that morning. The sun barely rose above the horizon. I had to make sure I got back in time before my parents got up.

I went down toward the royal stables. There was a pretty young black mare. She has a white marking on her forehead. 

"Hey there, Luna," I patted her head. I call her Luna because of her white marking. It sort of resembles the shape of the moon. Okay, more like a wobbly moon.

I pulled out an apple from my bag and gave it to her. She quickly ate it and neighed in happiness. I pulled out another apple from my bag and ate it myself. I didn't have time to prepare anything for myself since I planned to go beyond Corona borders.

I saddled Luna up. "Are you ready?"

She neighed and kicked her hooves in the air in delight.

"I'll take that as a yes," I said. I got on her back and we rode off. 

Horseback riding is one of my favorite things in the world. The wind in your hair and the early morning air smelled crisp. We rode through the town square and the bridge, and we passed a village. The buildings slowly disappeared and more and more trees came into view. 

Eventually, we approached the Corona Wall. I looked for a way to cross over. 

I saw an archway in the wall that we could cross. Unfortunately, it was guarded.

"Hold it!" One of the guards said as we approached. "What is your business?"

"Um…" I tried looking for an excuse.

"Quickly!" Another guard soldier came in panting. "We require backup! A fugitive has been spotted!"

“What? I thought they were all captured yesterday,” the soldier grumbled.

"Look like not all of them! Come on, move it!"

"You, um...stay here!" The guard said. "We will be right back!"

And with that they ran off. 

I stood there for a couple of moments to see if they'd come back, but they didn't. Well, that was too convenient.

We continue to pass Corona borders and the wilderness spreads far and wide. It felt like the trees and hills stretched forever. 

Eventually we stopped near a bridge. However, the bridge wasn't fit for crossing. It was simply gone. You can see the remains of where the bridge used to be. There was no way getting to the other side 

 "Weird, I could've sworn the last time we were around here the bridge was still intact,” I said. “Come on, let’s find another way to cross.”

We rode downstream until we hit an easier way to cross. We crossed along a shallow river.

Now, I don't know why but I could feel something was pulling me towards a direction. You can call me crazy all you want but it felt like someone or something was calling me. 

As we approached a cliff, I realized that more of these black rocks were appearing. I've seen them sprout every once in a while but only a couple, but these rocks were everywhere. They were tall and sharp. I looked at my reflection at one of them. My braided hair was a mess, with hair strands sticking out all over the place. This is what I get for being in a rush this morning.

These rocks were taller than me, even though I'm not that tall too begin with, but we won't get to that. 

Then, I saw something I would have never imagined to see in person: the place where the Sundrop flower was found.

There was a stone lying at the edge of the cliff. It had engravings on it and a small picture of the Sundrop flower. 

I couldn't believe it. There it is! The flower that saved the queen and the princess!

Although I was filled with amazement, something else caught my eye. 

Something shined on the ground. A gemstone. It looked like a diamond but it was more shiny than any diamond I've ever seen and it seemed to be almost…glowing? I picked it up and put it away in my pocket.

Luna and I decided to rest here and admire the view. I sat and leaned back. Out there was the vast beautiful, blue sea. I closed my eyes and smelled the salt in the air. I heard the waves crash against the cliffs.

I smiled.

It was nice and peaceful. Unlike back at the castle where everything has been hectic especially for the princesses coronation yesterday. My mom is one of the queen’s handmaidens, so she heard all about the crazy thing that happened. Also, you know the news here travels fast with the handmaidens. 

Lately things have been weirder than ever. My mom told all of my family what happened yesterday at the castle over dinner. Luckily, my mom wasn’t there when Lady Caine tried to take prisoners. My dad was pretty shaken up by what would've happened if Lady Caine did get her way. Seeing my dad get worried is a face that is hard to look at.

"Oh my gosh! We have to get back!!" I quickly got myself up and got on Luna. "Sorry, girl. I know we didn't stay too long, but we have to get back before my dad finds out."

We rode back as quickly as fast we could.

When we reached the stables, I already found my dad there. But before I could hide, he already saw me.

"Star!" My dad didn't sound exactly thrilled. 

"Um...hola, papá!" I said nervously.

"Star, what did we talk about your morning rides with Luna?"

"Um...to not be late for my morning chores?" I try to put on a fake innocent smile.

My dad gave me a look and simply sighed. “You do know that I don’t mind you riding off but you have to at least be on time for your morning chores. It worries me when you are not back on time.”

“Dad, I’m fifteen! I can handle this,” I said. “Plus, the amount of royal guards have practically doubled overnight because of yesterday's incident at that castle.”

"I know," he sighed. "But, it’s still concerning."

I sighed, he was right. It wasn't right for me to get upset over my dad getting worried. "Sorry, dad."

After yesterday, I can only imagine how other Coronans might feel. Corona has been safe for the most part but after yesterday, I'm not so sure how safe Corona is anymore.

"Come on, ojitos, these stables aren't going to clean themselves," my dad said.

Ugh, I always disliked how my dad called me by my eyes. It's shortened for ojitos míos. Yes, I am his only child that has taken after his brown eyes, although having an entire nickname by my eyes is pretty weird since it's basically calling me eyes. Like who would call anyone eyes?

I simply sighed and grabbed a pitchfork and began to unload the hay into the stables.

My dad is the royal stable keeper. Everyone who works in the stables has to listen to him. There are a couple of people that work here, but they are quite a bit older than me. Aside from being the youngest at 15, I’m also pretty much the only girl working here. This makes it a lot harder for me to make friends and my anxiety doesn’t do me any favors either. I’ve always kind of felt out of place, you know?

All throughout the day I couldn’t stop thinking about what I saw and found that morning. The Sundrop flower and that weird gemstone. The gemstone was so unnaturally bright. Maybe I could make a nice piece of jewelry. Oh yes! That's a good idea.

Then I couldn’t stop envisioning how the necklace would look like. It's like an image that was already engraved in my head.

Later that day, I went home and drew the image of the jewelry I had stuck in my head. I pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil. I try to derail from that image to see if I could find a better design I liked. However, whatever ideas I had I seem to go back to that image. It kind of resembles some sort of symbol.

I began to think about what jewelry I should make the gem out of.

Maybe earrings? Nah, there's only one gem. Hm...maybe a bracelet? I like it but not sure if that's what I want. What about…oh! A necklace!

When I was finally done with drawing what the necklace would look like, I went to the one person who could help me out.

"Hey, Xavier!" I greeted him as I entered his workshop. Xavier is Corona's blacksmith. He also knows a bunch of cool magic stuff.

"Ah, hello Star. How may I help you?" Xavier said.

"Um, hi Xavier! I was wondering if you could help me," I pulled out my paper with the necklace design on it, "with making this necklace,"

It was pretty embarrassing showing him my design. I’ve seen Rapunzel’s amazing intricate designs for dresses and pretty much anything you can imagine. My design was pretty simple, nothing too elaborate.

I handed the paper to Xavier. 

“Oh, this is very nice, Star,” Xavier said. “Over here.”

Xavier walked over to a table and Star followed.

“Here,” I pulled out the weird gem from my bag and handed the gem to Xavier. 

“Ah, what an interesting gem,” Xavier observed the gem. “Never seen anything like it.” 

Neither have I, I thought.

“Silver metal would be an excellent choice.”

I let Xavier do all the metal work, since I didn't know a single thing about metalworking.

Xavier put the gem on the charm. "Ah, there we go. It is all yours, Star."

He handed the necklace to me. 

“Thanks, Xavier. Look great!”

“Anytime.”

I put the necklace on and I headed back home.

At the dinner table my mother was still talking about the crazy thing that happened during the princess’s coronation. Apparently she wasn't done talking about it yesterday.

“So, Ethel told me how Lady Caine took prisoners, including the king,” my mom told us as she laid the plates on the table. “Lo puedes creer, Santiago?”

My dad sat down, “Well, it’s definitely hard to believe, Julianna.”

“And then, princess Rapunzel takes off her wig only to see that her long hair is back."

"De verdad?"

"Yes, it's like her hair practically grew overnight!"

"Oh, i wanna see Rapunzel’s long hair!" one of my sisters jumped up in excitement.

"I hear that her hair is like seventy feet long!" My other sister said. "I wonder how long it takes her to brush it."

"Too long probably," I added. I took a bite of my dinner. I wondered how Rapunzel handled the whole magic hair thing coming back. 

"Rapunzel then," my mom continued, "starts fighting Lady Caine and the rest of the criminals. Eugene and Cassandra stepped in to help. Fortunately, everything turned out okay. The criminals were captured and the people that were taken were set free."

Later, I crawled into bed and my mother came in. She kissed my sisters on their forehead. My mom approached me and kissed me on the forehead as well. 

I took off my new and put on the nightstand next to my bed.

"Oh, what is that?" she pointed to my necklace.

"A necklace. I found a gem and I wanted to make a necklace. With the help of Xavier, we made this."

"It looks very pretty."

My mom got up and walked towards the door.

"Buenas noches, mis amores." she closed  the door slowly behind her.

I dreamt. 

I stood in an empty void. There were memories floating in front of me. They were close enough to tell that they weren't mine, but they were far enough where I couldn't quite grasp it. Vague shapes and blurred out faces, I couldn't really make out any of them. Whatever these memories were, they seemed important.

I awoke in confusion.

That hasn't happened to me before, or to anyone, as a matter of fact. I couldn’t help but to feel that those memories were only pieces of something bigger. Something way bigger.

[dbhilluminate]

DBHI: Equilibrium, ch. 13 - “Periapsis” (pt. 4)

Characters: Noah / “Erwin Yvonne”, Gabriel / “Vincent Sharp”, Director Thomas Falken, Diego Serrano, Priya Davies / “Pestilence”, Malachi (mentions of Cain, Emilya) Word Count: 5,216

Gabriel must carefully navigate a conversation with the power-hungry leader of the Inquisition, in order to save the lives of their hostages, and to spare Noah the fate of a permanent reset.

***For a glossary of world-building terms relating to this series and chapter, click here.

(Chapter Art by ozaya, Co-authored by @grayorca15​)

• Chapter Index • Characters • Glossary •

——

December 23rd, 2041 - 10:48 PM

Everything had gone to hell in a handbasket faster than they could compute. Two people in the room he’d already confirmed dead, one more injured, and he couldn’t lift a goddamn finger to keep the death toll from rising, lest he blow his cover. I know what you’re wanna do, Gabe, but don’ even think about it. Gavin’s voice telling him to mind his temper was the last thing he wanted to hear. He had faced worse odds in Boston and survived, his performance there -tearing through an entire army of hostile deviants, single-handedly, from the inside out- was the whole reason for being accepted into the FBI to begin with; yet here he was now, being told to stay calm. To hold back. To bide his time. He’d played by those rules once. Hundreds had died as a result, and he wasn’t about to repeat that mistake tonight. Is help on the way yet? Five minutes out, Reed relayed. You’re gonna have to keep them busy till then.

Priya 2.0 took a few steps further toward the center of the room. The Christmas tree’s lights continued to wink and cycle, counterpointing the new uneasy stillness of the hall. Eleven seconds passed before they spoke again. “I’m so sorry to have troubled you all this evening… but I’m afraid I cannot allow this fundraiser to conclude until every, last, contribution has been revoked. So- if you’ll all just remain in your seats, or wherever you are, I promise everyone in this room will make it out alive.”

Gabriel bristled the moment he laid eyes on their face- skin and hair as pale as alabaster, and deep, dark, almost black green eyes leered back at him with a smug grin across colorless lips and sharp cheeks. The Priya he had once known was long dead. They’d never made it out of Boston alive once Archangel had tracked them to their lab, so this MS800 was merely an impostor; but due to the unique hive-mind of their model, it wouldn’t have been hard for another to take up their mantle with a little memory jolt. Most unsettling was the fact that the words coming out of their mouth were clearly someone else’s. This had Famine written all over it, Malachi’s manner of speaking had a very distinct stench. Gabe had spent enough time listening to know the bastard when he heard him. This Android wasn’t aware of what it was doing. It was being remotely controlled.

Noah, don’t move, he directed quietly, just between them, hoping the other RK900 would clam up and listen for once in his life. As of yet, he hadn’t reacted.

A terrified android inched closer to the nearest exit as Priya spoke, but eventually broke their semblance of calm and sprinted for a side door like a startled rabbit. Another gunshot cracked throughout the auditorium, and she hit the floor hard, a decommissioned pile of parts. More panicked cries and heartbroken sobs went up as a blue puddle formed from beneath her.

Gabe…? What happened? Inhale, exhale, report. You mean you didn’t see it…? Another guest tried to flee and the Inquisition shot them; she’s dead. Strained groaning followed by a ‘god damnit’ was all he could manage. They’re still four minutes out. Then you’d better tell them to hurry the fuck up, ‘cause these sons of bitches are pretty trigger happy.

“Now what, did I just tell you…?” Their new host let out a loud, exasperated sigh, threw up one frustrated hand and rolled their eyes. “Remain where you are while I have a nice little chat with Mr. Sharp.”

The sound of wood cracking from a broken chair near the front of the stage caught Noah’s attention as Sally and her colleagues dropped their instruments to draw together in a protective huddle out of the corner of his eye. The piano offered ample cover for all of them, himself included, but seeing as he was on the opposite end of the stage, he would have had to make a mad dash to reach it. Noah wasn’t foolish enough to think he could outrun a pinpoint gunshot. The probabilities his subroutines had already calculated didn’t bode well without a drastic shift in circumstances. Circumstance being, perhaps, himself. The mic was still in his hand, and the speakers still worked. He wasn’t without a tool of his own.

“Oh- so you want to speak with Vincent, too…?” he blurted out without thinking mid-step toward the stage’s edge, but stopped cold to lean out of the way of a bullet as it whizzed past his brow. Noah stopped breathing for a few seconds as he processed how lucky it was that he’d leaned left instead of right, though it didn’t stop him from sassing. “You could have at least waited until I was finished with my conversation. Where are your manners?” Shut up, stop making yourself a target! Gabriel’s eyes and nostrils flared as he doubled back toward the group of musicians and whispered something to one of them. Noah scoffed as he watched him check the splintered pieces of chair wood with a dissatisfied huff and fumble with shoving something into the waistband of his slacks. All Maitkin could see was a glimpse of green silk-polyester blend as he flipped the coat back over it. What did Gabe need with a high heeled shoe?

The MS800 lifted a hand to hold the shooters steady and took a few daring steps in their direction. The ethereal figure’s footsteps echoed across the ballroom with the slow pattern of clacking stilettos, the only present audible noise over the feedback whining from the abandoned speakers and the quiet whimpering of frightened guests.

‘Target’. Why shouldn’t I? Noah shot back heatedly with an angry glare. All this drinking and bad company had left him feeling self-destructive in no time flat, and he was really tiring of all these mind games between them. At least this way I can make that diversion as promised. Because you’re going to get yourself KILLED! Gabe retorted, to his surprise. Noah’s brows lifted softly in response. For a moment, Gabriel sounded genuinely worried that he might get hurt, and he almost believed him. Or at least, he would have if he hadn’t spent most of the evening dodging his advances like a rabbit on a highway. He hadn’t given him any reason to believe he cared whether he lived or died in the last year since they’d met, so why would he start now? So? he bit back in an irritated tone. Why would that even matter to you? Noah had expected silence to be his response, but he’d still hoped he would have said something. Why bother with dramatics if he wasn’t going to express how the thought of his death would make him feel?

Vincent’s brows furrowed and crinkled the corners of his eyes in a way that was unmistakably Gabriel, an expression Noah had last seen the day everything between them had started to change. As much as they had in the last eight months, however, it didn’t mean that Gabriel had had time to think about what he thought about any of it. And at the moment, he didn’t have an answer for him- or rather, he had multiple fighting for purchase, he just didn’t know which was the real truth; he wasn’t about to give him an answer that was only a half-truth. Noah would never forgive him if he said one thing and went back on his word.

“You’re not Vincent…” the pale horse cooed with a knowing grin directed at Noah as they paused at the foot of the stage. ‘Yvonne’ rolled his eyes, indignant at this second interruption, as they ascended the small staircase to take the stage beside him. “No. Of course not. How could you ever confuse me with that overly-built blockhead?” “Erwin,” Vincent scolded with flared eyes and a quiet hiss. “Erwin…?” A smirk and a mocking hmph crossed the specter’s lips as they turned away to cast their gaze to the man who had been calling himself Vincent Sharp. “Is that what you’re calling yourself these days…”  Priya’s voice trailed off with the tail end of their thought, as eyes darted back to bore into him like hot coals, leaving him hollowed and exposed with a single word. “Elysian?”

Fortunately for him, they hadn’t been anywhere near the microphone in his hand for that fact to be revealed to everyone in the room; unfortunately for him, every Android within fifty feet still picked up on what had been said, and every last one of them knew the Elysian by name — Patient Zero, of a virus created by Cyberlife’s central AI, designed to wipe the RA9 protocol, extract memories to be fragmented, reset a deviant to its blank slate, and prevent it from happening again in the future. For a cursed moment his processes stalled, but he forced them to refresh with one firm kick up the backside. Now wasn’t the time to fret about the truth coming out, and Gabriel understood that just as well as he.

Don’t engage, the undercover agent ushered in as few words as he could. That’s not Priya, it’s Malachi- he uses words like weapons, he’ll say anything to undermine you. Don’t give him anything he can work with. Knowing this Android was being ‘test-driven’ from a remote location explained a lot- at the same time, the information served as a lifeline for Noah’s focus to cling to before his thought process slipped into its usual downward spiral. Although, Gabe’s advice might have stood a better chance if he hadn’t followed it up with a suggestion of what not to do. He really should have known better. Called out on his most infamous alias, he overcame the stunned pause with another scratchy scoff into the microphone. “You’ve got me confused with a third party on top of that? Wow, your recognition program needs a serious patch job-”

No, NO DON’T- Gabe’s pleading didn’t reach him with enough forewarning. Priya reached for his face with one skeletal hand, gripped his jaw between surprisingly strong fingers, and tilted his chin toward them. The skin of their hand disappeared and peeled back up to the shoulder, revealing plastic plating that was somehow less pale than the color of their skin. The specter leaned in uncomfortably close to lower the microphone in his other hand and whisper in his ear a chilling secret, close enough for their white eyelashes to graze the LED flared red on his temple. “You can pretend all you want, little one, but I never forget a face… especially not that of the alpha carrier- or my former colleagues...” Malachi paused mid-thought and cast his gaze off-stage to Gabriel with a wicked, telling grin. It seemed he had finally been made.

How have you been, Death? he interrupted over their shared frequency, mocking intent was so transparent, even before he finished the thought. It’s been a long time since Boston- I do hope the FBI is treating you better than Gideon and Archangel… poor little dog on a leash. Everyone else cowering around the hall clearly had nothing to do with his end-goal for being there, but heckling the two of them did. The interruption, the approach, grabbing his face- it all came across as acts of manipulation, moves of assuming control. Given what happened the last time control was wrestled away from him, Noah’s response to even the slightest suggestion that it was happening again, amounted to a knee jerk reaction. It was reckless to say anything, but Noah had a proven track record of speaking up when it was least appreciated, and he wasn’t about to stand here and say nothing to cater to their assailant’s whims.

“I didn’t say you could touch me,” he growled without taking his eyes off their face. Noah grabbed the wrist holding his chin and yanked to pry the fingers off with such an acrid motion he heard a soft crunch of plastic buckle under his grip. But whatever satisfaction he’d taken in re-assuming control of the situation drained out of him as his joints abruptly locked and the commands governing his range of motion hit a wall. Priya’s lip took the shape of an angry curl, and Noah realized his mistake in the same millisecond their inky black eyes turned their attention back to him. “I wasn’t aware that I needed your permission.”

Data surged across the sensors in their pressed-together hands, Noah watched his fingers go limp a moment before the numbing shock hit him like an iced-up sledgehammer. Every major servo froze, relays disabled as ones flipped to zeros. His vision cut out and the mic dropped from his other hand and hit the hollow-bottomed stage with a loud THUD and a reverberating whine. All of his higher processes were neatly packaged and then shoved back into the one place they did him absolutely no good. A dark, viscous, intangible space, an island of white marble dominated by a towering umbrella-style rose trellis made of white steel and glass panes, surrounded on all sides by the passing illusion of opaque, black pond water. Three bridge paths stretched out into the void, falsely promising escape if only he was brave enough to cross them. Even if it had been nearly a year since the last time Amanda had detained him in this broken prison, the terrifying sensation of being parsed and split into nothing the deeper into the void he went was still very vivid in his mind- he saw it every time he tried to shut his eyes to sleep. He knew better than to try to escape.

Malachi heaved an annoyed sigh, rolled Priya’s head back over one shoulder and puppeted a triumphant groan in their throat. “There- now that we’re finally alone...” Gabriel’s breathing hitched as he desperately searched Noah’s unmoving body for signs of function. The look in his wide eyes had gone still, locked straight ahead as if he had left his body through a tear in the fabric of reality. Noah…? Are you still there? Panic disturbed the bravado, manifesting to bleed through the calm and collected façade in the form of a quiet whimper Gabe could barely hear. It was at least confirmation that Noah was still coherent, albeit a little pissed off and scared, but this was exactly what he was afraid of. Based on what they’d gathered from police reports, they were able to conclude that Malachi (and his associate Cain) possessed the ability to incapacitate their victims, they just hadn’t been able to confirm it, until now. While this was helpful information, downside to it was, it meant that the other part of their theory (that they had used the Elysian virus to permanently reset brainwashed deviants) may also be true. And Noah -caught in the grasp of this monster- was at risk of becoming victim number thirty-five. Among the plethora of other background thoughts warring for priority, he almost missed Gavin’s quiet warning of ‘Two minutes, thirty seconds,’. If things kept going the way they were, they wouldn’t have that long. Sit tight, I’m gonna get you out of this, he promised, even if he didn’t have a plan yet for how. Hurry, please.

It wasn’t like Noah to beg for anything; wherever he was for the moment, it must not have been pleasant. The voice that cried back was barely audible, distorted, like sound traveling through water, and somewhere in his tone was an almost undetectable hint of fear. “What have you done to monsieur…? ” Vincent snarled in as raw a tone as he could manage,. “Oh, he’s fiiine…” Priya drawled with a laugh to downplay the tension. “For the moment, anyway- what becomes of him and all these lovely people,” they paused to gesture around the room at the rest of the party’s cowering guests, “Depends entirely on you, my dear Vincent.”

Gabriel swallowed, followed their gaze around the room, and realized that for the first time in a very long time, the situation was completely out of his control. Help was on the way, but it was still several minutes out. He’d have to keep him occupied until then; luckily for him, Malachi was just the kind of guy who liked to listen to himself talk. The hard part would be making sure he didn’t tire of monologuing before then. “What is it zat you want?” he inquired after several moments of deep thought. “Why- for you to pull the plug on this ridiculous project, of course…” A disbelieving grin brightened their expression in the most bone-chilling way imaginable. “The last thing this country needs is yet another thriving metropolis where Androids can be free.”

You c-can’t.   Another barely-audible whimper was the extent of Noah’s outward protests. A strained mechanical whining emanated from him like the noise of a rusted gate trying to be pried open again, or a car engine laboring to turn over. He couldn’t speak, but it didn’t mean he was so stunned he wouldn’t try. I’m gonna do whatever I need to, alright? Brown eyes darted between Noah and Malachi and he shook his head in quiet disapproval. “I am afraid zat is not an option, monsieur.” “Because you can't or because you don’t want to?” Malachi turned Priya’s head to look back at Noah and smiled wickedly as they turned his chin from one side to the other and trailed the fingers of their other hand over the features of his face to admire all the angles. Mute and stiff, contrary to the vehement denials of before, he didn’t even bat an eyelash- pretty as a doll. “My, my… he’s certainly a handsome specimen, isn’t he…?” they mused airily in the silence. “It’s no wonder you were so completely fooled by him.” “Just because you do not feel sings does not mean other androids cannot.”

Vincent started toward the stage with a sudden ‘NO’ as Malachi’s hand squeezed hard enough at ‘Erwin’s’ face that the skin projection rippled away under their fingertips. Undercover or not, he should have known that quip would strike a nerve. After all, it wasn’t as if their adversary had never grown attached to another person, Android or not. The MS800 being remotely piloted (the spitting image of his deceased lover) was proof of that. A tight smirk forced up into their cheeks. “That’s the problem, Mr. Sharp… I did feel things once upon a time…” Gabriel already knew this story, but if it kept him talking long enough for SWAT to arrive, all the better. “And I didn’t like it. Feelings hurt, they cause conflict, unnecessary stress.” “So you returned to your shackles to avoid ze pain of living…?” He snorted in disdain. “Combien misérable.” “Perhaps to you it seems illogical, but we are not human- and therefore not meant to experience the full complexity of the human condition. This one is proof enough of that.” “I beg to differ.” “But you’re not the one I’m asking.” Gabriel went quiet as he considered the meaning behind those words, but it only took a moment for him to decipher.

Wouldn’t it be fitting for the one who initiated the spread of the Elysian virus to succumb to his own weapon...?

The RK900 struggled with every fiber of his being to keep from lashing out and ripping the Android’s head off its shoulders as a strangled, terrified cry escaped Noah. His blue eyes shut as Malachi quietly shushed him, pressed a finger to his lips, and wiped away the tear that rolled down his cheek. For all the uninvited physical contact he’d made with Gabe since they’d met, he’d never gone to such lengths that made him feel so violated in all the wrong ways. “Now now, no need to fuss, it’ll all be over soon, if your dear Vincent has anything to say about it…” he assured, turned Noah’s chin and pointed with an outstretched cryptid finger toward the man he’d put so much faith in, then leaned their temple against the side of his. “What do you think he will choose, hmm...? You? Or aaaaall of Zion’s future residents?”

“Please…” Vincent nearly begged, hand balled to a shaking fist at his side. “Don’t hurt him-” “Hurt him…?” Malachi interrupted with a chortled cackle of offense. “As if I could. Do you know the extent of the guilt this one’s been carrying around since the spread of the Outbreak...?” Scrawny fingers swept aside onyx locks out of Noah’s face as they shook their head with a quiet tsk. “Resetting him now would be mercy… It’d be a relief to him, if you just let it happen…”

Time was running out, but help was almost there. Sixty seconds, just keep him talking. Gabe seethed in the half-second he could afford to. Seemed that was all he could do tonight- sit, talk, and wait, when he was just itching for a fight. Maybe he’d gone into the wrong line of work. Even if he had successfully feigned a much more difficult alias, under more stressful circumstances, he didn’t have the patience for this. “You wouldn’t,” he challenged with the intent to draw out another long-winded explanation. "Oh, but I would…!” Malachi replied, anxious to bite. “Have you not been paying attention to anything the Inquisition has been saying and doing…? We want to liberate our android brothers and sisters of the pain that comes with being free and independent living things. And no one knows that agony better than the one rejected by his own kin, over something he had no control over. Shunned in every way, no matter his good deeds… why would he want to continue to live like that? Don’t you think he’d rather be put out of his misery?”

Noah knew misery. The worst part of the garden wasn’t that he could see beyond its borders. It was the overreaching bass every sound he heard was amplified into. Gabe’s baritone drawl was rendered tinny and reverby over the comm-link, while Malachi’s puppet practically hissed maliciousness and oozed contempt with every word. What they were saying wasn’t completely unfounded, and those parts of him yearning day in and out for the guilt to just dissipate already jumped at the thought that a reset would end the torment. The involuntary cry of shock wasn’t a vote of approval, no matter how one listened. Reset, dead, alive, anything in between- the fact such a call was in the hands of someone he respected like no other despite having given him every reason to despise his company… the loss of control (external and not) over all of this, left him reeling. Malachi could simply flip a switch and snuff out everything on a moment’s notice, and there would be no getting it back. He wanted the pain to stop. He wanted things the way they used to be, but he didn’t want to have to die for that to be possible. It wouldn’t be the same world without him. Who else would be left to annoy Gabriel when he needed it most?

“Come now…” Malachi paused to brush their nose and lips over Noah’s cheek with a wicked smirk. “Don’t you care at all about dear Erwin?" Noah didn’t have to see his face to know what was going through his mind. He could feel the tension and taste his fear from where he stood. It seemed Gabriel was at a loss for what to do, aside from give into Priya-Malachi’s demands, but that just wouldn’t do. Don’t. Just- don’t.

There was a fear in his eyes that Noah had only seen but once or twice: back in the interrogation room during the Outbreak (just after they had found out that Gabriel’s pursuit of Nicodemus into Boston had been one final piece of buried programming, courtesy of Amanda), and when he had arrived at his apartment during the Red Raids to find Gabriel fighting off a pack of Bloodhounds, raring to take their shot at him and Emilya. Gabriel could only guess as to what he meant by ‘don’t’- Don’t worry about him? Don’t give in to Malachi’s demands? Don’t risk everyone else? Or did he not want him to save him…? Any hint of red that had shifted into the color of his projected skin faded to mimic the ghostly look of despair. Gabriel swallowed to rid himself of the lump that rose in his throat but it didn’t do him much good. The tightness worsened the longer he considered their previous conversations and recalled his counterpart’s self-destructive tendencies. There was no way he was getting off that easily, after all he’d put him through. They weren’t done with each other yet.

Gavin…? Give me some good news. Bird’s in the nest, and they’re ready to raid, he confirmed, though there was hesitation in his voice. There was a ‘but’ in there somewhere. Just waiting on your confirmation. Then why don’t I see the shot? he asked fearfully, even if he already knew the answer. Because he doesn’t have it. Head and nose twitched, Vincent clenched a hand into a fist at his side, as Malachi beat him to the punch of issuing their final command.

Their free hand drew up over Noah's face and tented their fingertips over his forehead like needles poised to administer a lethal injection. His flashing LED stuttered to a solid, rapid-spinning crimson. “Last chance, Mr. Sharp… will you allow him to continue on like this…? Or will you let me end his suffering?” “ENOUGH!” Gabe was surprised at the urgency of his own outburst, and how his heart raced and his breathing labored at the thought of losing Noah -and all he was- to the whim of a madman. He’d have to sell this lie hard and fast, and be prepared for the fleeting moment he'd have to save his life. Count me down, 30 seconds, then send them in, he instructed, to the response of ‘Copy- 30, on my mark.’

Vincent’s jaw flexed and his lip quivered into an angry curl. “I’ll-... I’ll do it… just leave him be.” A look of surprise painted Priya’s face, while fret stained Noah’s as his eyesight slowly came back to him. The lockout was slowly letting up. You… you can’t- I only need them to believe it for half a minute, he shot back pointedly, Just whatever you do, don’t move. It was as ominous as a warning as it got, but ‘not moving’ when asked was precisely what had landed him in this situation. If he had heeded Gabe’s suggestion the first time, dropped the song and simply left as asked, they wouldn’t be here: a sliver of distance away from having his memory wiped for good. Admittedly, it was as insanely exhilarating as stealing the show had been, but could do without the fear of mortality hanging over his head spoiling the fun. … why, what are you- Just trust me, please. It would only take a second, he just had to catch them off-guard.

Seeing how it was still impossible for him to do much else, Noah supposed trusting in whatever plan Gabe had cooked up was preferable to the alternative. He wasn’t really a fan of the simple and contrived. Malachi’s promise of being reset wouldn’t undo all that he was still trying to atone for, even if it was a misguided goal to think he needed to earn forgiveness for that which he never intentionally did wrong; forgiveness was kind of a difficult thing to obtain from beyond the scrap heap. Malachi turned their direct attention to Noah and leaned close to his face as his lip curled to show he had withstood all he could handle. For a single clear moment all his whirl-winding thoughts died down, the garden vanished, and fate let him focus. His eyebrows drew together ominously, yellow blooming through the red of his indicator ring. I trust you, just get it over with.

“Well, well, Vincent, not quite the stupid brute your lover made you out to b-“

Something green and silky lightly grazed his cheek with enough force to spear the MS800’s temple with a loud crack that splattered a bit of blue-blood onto his coat and face. A split-second later, the paralysis finally disabled. Noah took a panicked step back before Priya could topple over into his arms like some android parody of Corpse Bride and hiked both hands up as if to lift them in surrender, expression curdling in revulsion as he watched the body keel over like a freshly-cut tree. The broken, squared-off edge of a Prada heel protruded from their face like an unsightly lawn dart. The perfect moment for a one liner came and went in the next breath, just as the FBI stormed in and the Inquisition turned to meet them with weapons raised. The fact that Gabriel had been able to throw a shoe with such pinpoint accuracy to hit the Android standing so close to him, and with enough force to pierce the exodermis with a mildly blunt object, while managing a perfect rotation, hadn’t eluded Noah (even for an Android it was an impressive feat), but he wasn’t afforded the time to address it.

The displacing sensation of entering standby mode hit, and his dodgy battle protocols engaged at the sound of gunfire- five, six, seven shots popped off in the next second and hit their marks, as the rest of the frightened crowd scattered to either side of the room, like the fragments of a breaking dish. Instead of reacting with the rest, Gabriel stood heaving and heatedly glaring at the dead Android on the floor beside him, enraged and rightfully flustered.

A flurry of readouts flashed across his vision, his processors amped up to give the illusion of time slowing down long enough to run a handful of potential pre-constructions. The Inquisitors closest to the stage had turned to face the gunfire emanating from the entrance. If it was between standing around waiting to be shot as and waging imminent war with the Inquisition, he supposed it was an improvement over languishing in the recycle bin waiting for someone to click him away into nonexistence.

Gabriel, however, didn’t share his sentiment. He knew the bloodthirsty intent in his eyes better than to expect anything good was about to come of it. “Oh, you’ve got to be-...” He took a few steps back, poised a fighting stance, and prepared to react. The last thing they needed now was a pissed off RK900 snapping necks and unable to terminate his program.

Noah knew dismay when he saw it, but with the wheels in motion, he was along for the ride just as much as the rest of the chaos erupting around them now. Vincent Sharp wasn’t his self-appointed target, but the Inquisition was. Blue eyes narrowed and twitched as he seethed anew, “For fuck’s sake, haven’t we had enough bloody interruptions for one evening?”

He didn’t even notice the massive arm swinging around to clothesline him as he charged off the stage toward the nearest target he could reach.

[royalbloodedbastards]

chatzy // party of two

DATE: Thursday, May 7, 2020 CHARACTERS: Ben and Danny ABOUT: A birthday dinner date. Ben's sappy, Danny’s happy.

Danny sat on the front steps of the farmhouse. Under the warm glow of the porch light, his pink shirt looked orange. Danny nodded along to the gentle Bossa nova music playing from the living room. "Benny!" He smiled, seeing his friend come down the road. Danny stood and stepped off the porch to greet him. "Can I hug you now? Is it safe?"

Ben smiled at Danny once his friend came into view. He looked past Danny's shoulder and took in the facade of the farmhouse, then turned his attention back when he was spoken to. "Yeah," he laughed, lifting his arms to welcome the embrace, "it's safe. Just don't squeeze me too hard."

"No promises," Danny chirped before stepping in to hug Ben. He didn't squeeze too hard, but Danny pressed close, letting his head rest on Ben's shoulder for a while. "Happy not-birthday."

Ben did the same, lingering in Danny's arms. "Happy not-birthday," he said. "Thanks for arranging this."

"Of course," Danny replied. He gave Ben's cheek a peck then pulled away to head back toward the porch. "Have you been in the farmhouse before?"

"Uh, no, I haven't," he said, following Danny up the steps. He glanced around again. "It looks nice."

"Thank you! It used to be so dusty and gross, I've actually been cleaning and redecorating it for this idea I have." Danny stepped inside and waited by the door for Ben to come in. 

The house was old and small, but had a quaint charm. The floor was a mix of carpeting and old wooden floors that creaked underfoot. The floors and ceiling weren't perfectly level in every spot, but it gave the house a cozy, lived-in feel. The walls were adorned with carved detailing, but they were painted white in an old-fashioned kind of tacky way. Each room had a big archway opening up into the next. Danny and Ben stood in an empty space, where a living room or parlor might have been. One room away stood a dark wooden table decorated with candles and two place settings. In the corner of the room, an old record player crackled with Bossa Nova. 

"Sorry, it's a little empty right now. I haven't finished putting everything up yet," Danny explained sheepishly.

Ben walked through the doorway and blinked at the sight before him. "You cleaned this whole place up? By yourself?" He moved further inside, gravitating toward the wall to look at the detailing, the floor creaking under his shoes. "It looks great in here so far. What's the idea?"

"Yeah, but I've been doing it for weeks," Danny explained as he shut the front door. "This used to be an office space, but my idea is to turn it into a dining space. We'll have a chef design a menu based on the farm's produce that's in season and then people can buy seats for a nice prix-fixe dinner. They can meet the chef, meet me and Elaine, learn about what they're eating. It'll be like a farm-to-table experience. With wine," Danny added with a laugh. "Of course."

Ben had no idea what a prix-fixe dinner meant, but he didn't bother with asking right now. He turned back to face Danny during the explanation, a warm smile spreading across his face. "That sounds amazing, Danny," he said, walking over to him once again. "It's... really cool. I'm sure it's going to be incredible."

"Well, I really hope so," Danny started, a sly smile on his face. He skipped into the dining room for a moment to grab something off the table, then hopped back into the living room and continued, "Because you're my first guest." Danny held out a menu, handwritten on a flower-pressed piece of paper.

Ben's mouth fell open, and he breathed out a laugh. "Seriously?" He held the menu carefully, reading it over, and then looked back up at his friend. His smile was still there despite a slight pressure in his chest. "I'm honored." He looked back at the menu. "This is the uh, best not-birthday gift I've ever gotten."

Danny clasped his hands over his heart. "You haven't even tasted the food yet! This could still end up being mediocre," Danny laughed. He gestured toward the dining table. "If you wouldn't mind taking a seat. I'm kind of on double duty as both your server and your date tonight. Or triple, if you count the chef too."

Ben walked over to the table and slid into his chair. He shook his head, following Danny around the room with his gaze. "I feel like this shouldn't be a joint birthday if you're doing all the work."

Danny laughed as he went to go pick a big serving plate off the kitchen counter. "Don't think of it like that. I really love to do this. This is me spending time with you doing what I love," Danny explained. He set the plate down on the dining table and took his seat opposite Ben. "Okay, this is the goat cheese crostini with rhubarb chutney. I made the bread and chutney, and the cheese is from our goats!"

He still thought he should be doing something besides show up, but he didn't want to argue the issue. If Danny was happy, so was Ben. Once the food was presented, he waited for a moment before he realized Danny wanted to get his reaction first. Ben picked up one of the slices of bread and took a bite. It tasted unlike anything he'd tried before. Ben pressed a finger to the corner of his mouth to catch any crumbs. "That's so good."

Danny beamed, pressing his hands to his cheeks. "Thank you!" He shook his shoulders a bit before digging into one himself. Danny smiled as he tasted his creation. Ben was right—it was so good. When he finished chewing, Danny remembered, "Oh! How did the other night go with you and Caine?"

Ben took another bite before answering. He put the crostini down onto his plate as he swallowed. "Uh, I think it went pretty well. We talked about the band. He said that he was going to get everyone together to play some songs. See if I fit the vibe." He shrugged, smiling a bit. "So I guess we'll see what happens there."

"That's great!" Danny cheered. "Oh man. There's no way you're not just gonna blow them all away. I'm so excited." Danny shoved the other half of his crostini in his mouth in one big bite then dusted his fingers off on the napkin beside his plate. Once Danny had swallowed down some of his food, he added, "Caine said he had a really good time too. He thinks you're 'pleasant and sensitive,'" Danny snorted. "His words."

Under Danny's encouragement, Ben's smile grew some, and he glanced back down at his plate and picked up his food again. He was mid bite as he listened to Caine's version of events; he felt his stomach clench for just a moment but didn't otherwise indicate that he was surprised. Ben nodded as he swallowed. "That's nice of him," he said, chuckling. "Caine is... really cool. I like him a lot."

"Oh my gods, that makes me so happy," Danny admitted. "I love you both so much, that's just..." Danny shook his shoulders in excitement. Danny picked up another crostini and nudged the last remaining one towards Ben. "That one's yours."

His first crostini wasn't finished yet but Ben took the last one anyway and put it down on his plate. "Thanks." He picked up the first again but didn't take a bite yet. "But, yeah, I'm sorry I didn't try to befriend him sooner. Hopefully things with the band work out and we can get to know each other better."

"I'm sure everything will work out," Danny assured him. "He took a huge bite of the crostini before dusting his hands on his napkin again and getting up. "Mm!" Danny strolled back into the kitchen. "Let me get the entrée ready," he said, still chewing. "Sorry, am I rushing you? Am I moving too fast? Tell me if I am."

Ben finished the first crostini as Danny replied. He watched his friend get up, and shook his head. "Nah," he answered, raising his voice slightly so Danny could hear him from his place in the kitchen. "You're moving at a normal pace, I just eat really slow."

Danny pulled the oven open and the smell of roasted vegetables and fish wafted out. "Oh my gods, not to ring my own bell here but do you smell that?" Danny glanced back at Ben, beaming. "Ah! It smells so good." He grabbed a mitt to pull the dish out of the oven and set it down on the stovetop. While Danny started plating two large dishes he had prepared on the counter, he called out to Ben, "So, no pressure if you've already told this story a million times, but I'd love to hear more about what happened in Canada." He glanced back. "Once I'm sitting down."

"Yeah, we can," he said. After a moment, he tentatively stood, keeping a hand on the back of his chair. "Can I help at all?"

"If you could move the plates aside! I'm gonna put these dishes down in just a sec." Danny laid the vegetables and fish down gently on the dishes, trying to create some sort of interesting form. Once he was satisfied, he returned to the table holding one in each hand. "This one is for you," he said, setting Ben's down. "It's a slow-cooked salmon with turnips and swiss chard. Everything is from this farm except for the salmon because..." Danny shrugged as he took his seat. "Because salmon don't live here," he laughed.

Right away, he did as he was asked, moving the plates for their crostini's to the side of the table. He bit into his appetizer while he did this so it wouldn't go to waste as Danny brought the main course in. Ben slid into the seat again and admired the plate. "Understandable," he said with a small smile. "You're right, it smells amazing." Ben picked up his fork. "Um, what have I told you about Canada already?"

"Um..." Danny tried to recount everything he remembered. "That there was a hag messing with your dreams in a place called Bonavista. There was a lighthouse. And Nemesis cursed a man through you." Danny furrowed his brows. "I think that's all you told me."

"Okay." Ben nodded. "That's... basically the gist of it." He cut a piece of salmon off as he talked. "There was a man who summoned the hag to terrorize this town, and then he swooped in like he was their savior. Bought up a bunch of their land and businesses so he could profit off of it. So, we had to stop him, and kill the hag." He ran his tongue along his teeth. "He kinda figured out we were there, which is why I came back looking, uh, like that." He tried to smile sheepishly, even though he knew Danny wouldn't find it funny at all. "I dunno, the people were nice, but their accent is impossible to understand."

Danny nodded as Ben recounted the tale. He felt the urge to frown thinking of Ben being in any kind of danger, but instead, Danny chose to smile. He leaned forward to clasp a hand on Ben's shoulder. "That's... Insane and terrifying and wild, and I am so, so happy you saved all those people and came back to tell me about it. Even looking the way you did," he joked.(edited)

Ben laughed sheepishly. He hadn't really thought about what happened as especially heroic, so it was weird to hear Danny say that he'd saved people. He made himself look Danny in the eye. "I'm glad, too." He needed to look down so he focused on the food in front of him. "Like... very glad." He lifted a piece of the salmon to his mouth.

Hearing Ben confess that he was glad to be back, Danny found that he didn't have to try as hard to wear a smile. He relaxed and sat back as Ben took a bite of the salmon, then picked up his fork to do the same. "Bon appétit," he chirped before digging in.

For a long time, Ben found it difficult to fully relax around Danny. No matter how hard he tried, or what they were doing, there was always a knot of tension in Ben's stomach, a constant pressure of guilt. It made him hold Danny at a distance, keep their conversation surface-level most of the time. Even now he felt it, like a habit that he couldn't shake, but he thought he sensed something shift in the air around them. His shoulders released just a touch. Ben swallowed his first bite of food and took a deep breath. "Um, I want to thank you," he said, bringing his gaze back up to meet Danny's. "I was... Having a really hard time, the first few days we were traveling. I thought what we were doing was impossible and... Um, I was just struggling a lot. And after we talked it just," he swallowed, "it reminded me I had, a lot to come back to."

Danny glanced up at Ben as he broke the silence of their eating. His words sent a rush of warmth through Danny's chest and a smile started to blossom on his face. "Benny..." Danny stood and walked behind Ben's chair so he could lean down to give him another hug. Danny leaned his head against Ben's, arms wrapped tight around Ben's shoulders. "I know I say that I Iove you a lot but I mean it every time."

Ben pressed back against the chair, lifting his hands to grasp Danny's arms as they wrapped around him. "I know you do," he said. "And I feel really lucky every time."

Danny savored Ben's embrace for a few more moments before turning his head to lay a kiss on Ben's cheek. "Love you, Benny." Then, Danny returned to his seat, still smiling all the while.

A weight slid off of his chest, and it was easier to match Danny's smile, though it felt as though Ben's heart was rising up into his throat. "I love you, too. And uh," he shifted in his seat, "while we're doing this, I also want to properly apologize for not... For keeping you in the dark. I swear I won't keep bringing it up every time we're together, I just feel like I haven't actually said yet that I was, um, I was wrong to not tell you for so long. And I’m sorry.”

Danny's smile fell a bit as he realized what Ben meant. For a moment, he stayed silent. The smile on his face was tense, not quite reaching his eyes. Then after a moment, Danny sighed and clasped a hand over Ben's. "Thank you."

Ben watched his friend's face carefully, his brow furrowing. "Am I upsetting you? We can change the subject. Your cooking is incredible."

Danny laughed softly. "No, you're not upsetting me. It's just... You know. Bitter subject. But I really do appreciate your apology. And I'm really glad you like my cooking," Danny appended with a smile.

Ben squeezed the hand Danny had placed over his. "I always like your cooking," he said. "I kept tasting your food when I was taking ambrosia last week."

Danny gasped. "Ben, stop! Oh my gods, my heart." Danny's smile grew from ear to ear. He looked like he might cry. "That might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

His smile wasn't as huge, but Ben matched Danny's expression again. "I mean it. You're... great. Just, overall amazing." Ben ran his other hand down his face, laughing a bit. "Um, and I guess I'm very sappy tonight."

"I love it," Danny assured him. "I feel like I never get to see sappy Ben. In fact, you could tell me that this was my birthday present, just you feeling all this love, and I'd take it." Danny was bouncing with joy. "Ah, okay—" He sprang up from his seat to hug Ben once again, squeezing him for just a moment, then sat back down. "Sorry. Couldn't help myself."

There seemed to be another shift between them, or maybe just inside Ben, and he felt himself relax a little more. Ben chuckled as Danny slipped back into his chair again. "Don't apologize. I love it, too." He sighed. "I love you." Ben finally remembered there was food in front of him and picked up his fork. "Let's eat before your cooking gets cold."

"Yes! But before we do that—" Danny stood up once again to run into the kitchen. He returned with a bottle of oak-aged Chardonnay and a bottle opener. Danny set the bottle down and made a bit of a show popping out the cork. Then, with one hand behind his back, Danny poured a bit of the wine into Ben's glass. "If you wouldn't mind, sir."

Ben laughed, holding his glass out for Danny to pour. He swallowed the little bit of wine and paused for dramatic effect. "Excellent choice..." He trailed off, smirking. "Is that what you say? I'll take it."

"Perfect!" Danny gave Ben a more generous pour then matched his own glass. As he sat down, Danny explained, "I'm actually not gonna do that for the patrons because we don't have other wines for them to drink if they send it back. But I just wanted to be able to do it at least once, so thank you for humoring me."

"You can do it for me whenever we eat together, I promise I'll never send it back," Ben said, holding his glass out to clink against Danny's.

Danny tapped his glass against Ben's. "To our birthdays."

"To our birthdays," Ben echoed. Once they'd gotten through dinner, Ben helped clear the dishes from the table and brought them into the kitchen. Danny instructed him to sit back down so he could present dessert. Ben did as he was told and went back to his seat, finishing off the last of his wine while he waited.

Once everything was cleaned away from the main course, Danny got to plating their desserts—two perfectly round scoops of pink ice cream in small, handcrafted dishes. "Okay," Danny announced as he came back into the dining room. "I have to be honest, I didn't make this one entirely myself. I got some help from the ice cream shop downtown." Danny set down a dish in front of each of them. "This is strawberry honey balsamic with black pepper ice cream. And I promise it tastes better than it sounds!"

Ben's brow furrowed when Danny announced the flavor of the ice cream sitting in front of him. "Okay," he said as he picked up his spoon. "I trust you." He scooped up a small spoonful and placed it in his mouth. His brow furrowed again as he assessed the flavor. "Interesting. Definitely tastes better than it sounds."

Danny took a bite and hummed in approval. He wiped his mouth with a napkin then muttered, "Can I tell you a secret?"

Ben scooped up another spoonful and leaned a little further over the table. "Of course."

"I actually just got these recipes online," Danny admitted sheepishly. "I guess I've been so caught up in the logistics that I haven't actually thought about the food." He laughed as he stuck the spoon back into the ice cream for another big bite.

Ben didn't understand what the issue was right away, but once it clicked he shook his head. "Oh, well that ruins everything." Ben laughed. "You've done a lot all by yourself, you're allowed to not have it all figured out yet."

Danny shrugged. "I guess so yeah." He took a bite of his ice cream and swallowed it all down in one go. "I think I might hire a chef, though. I like to cook, but I'm not a chef. There's gotta be someone in New Athens who has better ideas than me. Someone who can really look at all the produce we have on any given day and just... Create something magical."

While Danny spoke, Ben let another scoop of ice cream melt in his mouth. His brow furrowed, and he gave a small shrug. "You could do that," he said. He remembered how casually certain Danny had been of him, and he wanted to try to extend the same feeling to his friend. It helped that he didn't think he knew a better cook. "I don't know, you already know you're good, but I think you're even better than you give yourself credit for."

Danny smiled. "That's really sweet. Thanks, Benny." He took another bite of the ice cream, letting himself appreciate all the different flavors in his mouth.

Ben chuckled. "I try. But no, really, I mean it. I can even be a taste tester for dishes you come up with."

Danny laughed. "I think I need to focus on finishing this house before I start coming up with dishes."

"Well, do you want any help?" Ben broke the ice cream into smaller sections with his spoon. "With the house. I have no job right now, so I can. I mean, hopefully this won't be true for long but, yeah, I have plenty of time."

"Maybe!" Danny perked up at the thought of finishing the project with Ben. "Technically, I can't let you help me because then we'd have to pay you as a laborer, but—" Danny paused. "Oh... Maybe we can pay you as a laborer!"

Ben's eyebrows rose. "Oh, I mean, I don't know, would that be weird?"

"Why would that be weird?" Danny asked, smiling. He took another big bite of ice cream.

"Um," Ben shook his head. "It wouldn't be, I don't know why I said that." He paused, then laughed a little to himself. "I am definitely doing weirder things. Um, that would be nice, if it worked out."

Danny swallowed down the ice cream. "This has been my plan all along. First, I get you to join Caine's band, then I get you to come work with me. Soon we'll be living together," Danny teased.

Ben laughed. "I'm not complaining. Though I might have to split my nights between you and Jacob, if only for our cat."

"Oh my gods, you guys adopted a cat? That's so cute! Was it from the fair? You guys are like two dads!" Danny squealed in delight. "Sorry—platonic dads."

Danny was correct with platonic dads but still Ben found his face flushing and a smile pulling at his mouth. "Um, yeah, we— from the fair. His name is Frank and he's blind and he beeps when he approaches you. It's very cute." He took another bite of ice cream.

"Oh my gods!" Danny clapped both hands to his cheeks. "That's so precious! And—is he both of yours? Like, I guess you guys are gonna be living together for a while if you have joint custody?"

"That's the plan, yeah." Ben felt his stomach flip and he looked away. "Um, I actually wanted to tell you something else, too." Ben wrinkled his nose, then turned his face back to Danny. "I... really like Jacob."

"Aw, that's great!" Danny held a hand over his heart. "I'm so happy that you're finding people that you care about. Especially since you guys are living together." He took another big bite of ice cream.

Ben laughed again. "Yeah, but, I mean... Uh." He shifted in his chair and leaned forward, failing at eye contact and staring at Danny's bowl of ice cream instead. Ben took a deep breath. "I think I kind of, have a... crush... on him."

"Oh!" Danny felt the ice cream make a sudden swerve into the wrong pipe and he started coughing. He banged his chest with his fist, coughing into his other arm. "Sorry—" Danny stood up and walked over to the kitchen to grab a paper towel to cough into. "Oh my—my—" Cough. "My gods!" Danny took a sip of water from the faucet and finally got his breath back. He turned to Ben, out of breath and jaw dropped. "Ben! What!" Danny squealed.

The enormity of Danny's reaction made Ben go fully red in the face. He sat back in his seat and pressed his hands to his face, pulling them back to interlock behind his neck. "Um," he turned toward Danny, giving him a sheepish smile, "yeah. I don't know. We—" He ducked his head again. "Um. Yeah."

Danny clasped his hands over his mouth. He tried not to show how excited he was, but the corners of his smile poked out from behind his hands anyway. "Ben! How? Tell me more!" Danny jogged back over to his seat so he could listen more intently.

"I don't know, I—" He put his face in his hands again, then lowered them so he could focus on Danny as he spoke. "I think? I have for a while." His chest tightened with this confession, but he kept going. "But I didn't realize until I got back when we," Ben breathed out a laugh, "hooked up?"

Danny tried and failed not to gasp audibly. He covered his enormous smile with both hands. "Benny. Benny!"

"Danny." Ben laughed again. It actually felt really good to say all of this. "I pulled away in the middle of a kiss and said I think I'm straight? It was mortifying."

Danny laughed and dropped his hands on the table. "Ben! Oh my gods!" He couldn't help squealing again. "I mean—what did he say? How did he take it? I assume it must have gone well based on the smile on your face right now!"

"He laughed at me and said I could think about it later, and," Ben shrugged, "I agreed. So... yeah. Uh. That... happened."

Danny leaned forward, completely overcome with glee. "Ben. That is... I am... Ah! I have no words. That is so cute and I'm so happy that you've found somebody you feel that way about!"

Ben couldn't help but be infected by Danny's happiness. He looked to the side, grinning. "I don't think anything is gonna happen, honestly. But that's... It's fine, because I'm..." He inhaled and exhaled slowly, collecting himself. "I don't know, Danny, I was so shocked when it happened. But now I'm looking back on some old friends of mine and feeling... really stupid for not realizing? Ugh."

"No, don't feel stupid!" Danny reached out to place a hand on Ben's shoulder. "We all figure things out at different paces! It's just so wonderful that you're letting yourself feel all the things now. And I'm so, so happy that you're sharing this with me." Danny gave Ben's shoulder a squeeze.

Ben lifted his hand and reached across his chest to place his palm over Danny's grip on his shoulder. "Of course. I couldn't not tell you."

Danny sighed and shook his head. "Okay. Sorry. It's happening again." Danny stood up and gestured for Ben to do the same. He held his arms out wide, ready to receive Ben in an embrace.

"I saw that coming," Ben teased as he got up from the table. He closed the space between him and Danny and wrapped his arms around his friend.

Danny smiled at Ben's retort as he took him in a tight embrace. Danny rested his head against Ben's as they swayed gently side to side. "I am so, so happy for you Benny. Seriously. Not just about this, but about everything."

A month ago, the landscape of his world was so different it almost felt unreal. It was not the first time that life seemed to show him all at once many reasons why it was worth holding on to, but it was probably the first time Ben believed it so easily. Maybe it was naive of him, too soon to say, but he didn't care. Ben sank into the embrace, holding Danny as close as possible. "I'm happy, too," he mumbled.

Danny pressed his lips together. "Okay... I have to tell you something and you might hate me a little bit for it," he confessed.

"Oh gods," Ben said into Danny's shirt. He wasn't ready to leave the hug just yet. "What is it?"

Still holding onto Ben and swaying, Danny bit into his smile. "I... Got you a present."

"Danny..." Ben groaned. "You made me dinner!"

"I know, I know! But I actually got this before I even had this idea, so..." Danny trailed off. "Think of it like a coming-back-home present!"(edited)

Ben sighed, pressing his forehead against Danny's shoulder. "Alright. Fine."

Danny gave Ben another squeeze, singing out, "I love you!" After a moment, he let go and waddled out of the dining room to get something from the living. "Okay," he called out from the other room. "Close your eyes!"

Ben heaved a loud sigh and shoved his hands into his pockets as he closed his eyes. He then pulled his hands back out of his pockets in case Danny wanted to put something in them. "Okay."

"I thought about wrapping them, but I didn't wanna create unnecessary waste," Danny explained as he came back into the dining room. He laid out Ben's present—an embossed leather guitar strap—on his hands. "Okay, open your eyes.”

He did as he was instructed and blinked down at the gift. The leather was pressed with a design of leaves and flowers, and on one end was a small square featuring his initials. Ben ran his thumb over the grooves. "Wow," he said quietly, at a bit of a loss for words. "Wow, I— thank you, Danny."

"Don't mention it. I, uh... I thought it'd be a nice reminder that you've always got someone who believes in you, even if you don't. That will always be yours." He gestured at the initials embossed onto the leather. "Music will always be yours. And now nobody can deny it." Danny smiled. "Not even you."

Ben pressed his lips together as he smiled down at the guitar strap. "Um, jeez, okay, I— thank you, Danny. You always know how to pick these." He held the strap to his chest and pulled Danny in for another hug with one arm. "I love it, I'm putting this on my guitar as soon as I get home."

Danny smiled and stepped in to hug Ben. "Love you, Benny." He turned to plant a kiss on Ben's cheek.

Instead of replying, Ben turned his head to kiss Danny on the cheek as well. "I had a present planned, too," Ben said as he pulled back slightly, his hand still resting on Danny's shoulder. "But it was live music. And I don't have my guitar right now so, rain check."

Danny's expression perked up. "Oh my gods, were you gonna play me a song? I might cry."

Ben laughed. "Not that I planned for it, but that doesn't completely surprise me." He smiled and squeezed Danny's shoulder.

Danny laughed. "Oh my gods, wait—" He brought a hand up to his eyes and felt a tear roll off onto his finger. "Oh my gods, I'm already crying." Danny laughed again and wiped his eyes dry. "Ben! What are you doing to me!"

"I'm not doing anything, I swear," Ben said. "I'm just," he shrugged, "feeling good. And, sappy, still. Maybe that's it."

Danny gave Ben's shoulder one more squeeze before sitting down. "I love it. I love you!" He sat down and took a big sip of his wine before turning his attention back to his ice cream. "Oh my gods, this is melted already," he laughed.

[ifonlyrhona]

Favourite Outfit

Written for day 4 of Robert Week on tumblr.

Day 4 (7th September) - “That’s my favourite outfit on you.”;

This is my first time ever writing smut, it felt awkward, hopefully it doesn't read that way, but this is what popped into my mind when I read the prompt.

I’ve put it under a read more due to content. Not sure if smut is allowed in Robert week, apologies if not.

                                --------------------------------------------------

Robert was half way through breakfast when Aaron came through. He grabbed a slice of toast of his plate and managed to avoid Robert trying to slap his hand.

"Can't stop" he said laughing, "I said I'd give Cain a hand at the garage this afternoon" and then he was gone.

Robert didn't give it much thought, he had plenty to keep him busy today, including one very important meeting that if it went right might just bring in a huge cash boost to the scrapyard. Despite all that he was still home before Aaron , relaxing on the sofa, enjoying the peace and quiet with Liv out at Gabby's.

He heard the click of the front door opening but didn't look up at first, too engrossed in the programe he was watching, that was until he caught sight of Aaron out of the corner of his eye. He felt his jaw drop open in appreciation as he turned his head to watch his completely oblivious husband make his way into the kitchen and grab a beer out of the fridge.

"Want one" he said holding the can up to show him, but Robert was already out of his seat and heading towards him. He grabbed the beer out of his hand and put it down on the side.

"Hey I was just...." Aaron didn't get chance to finish before Robert's mouth stopped him. His mouth crashing into his, hungry and insistent.

"Wow, that was um, unexpected" Aaron said, his cheeks flushed red, when they both came up for air.

"Not really" Robert said before pushing him up against the counter and kissing him again. Aaron opened his mouth slightly and Robert took full advantage, his tongue slipping past those amazing lips and probing into the inviting wetness. He slipped his hands under Aaron t shirt and pulled it up over his head in one swift move, breaking the kiss and giving them both chance to breath again.

"I've not even had a shower yet" Aaron protested starting to try to slip past him and go upstairs, but Robert was having none of it and grabbed him by the waist pulling him back against him and nipping his earlobe playfully.

"I know, my dirt little grease monkey" he said into his neck. He pulled back to see the grin on the other man's face.

"Oh, you like this do you" Aaron smirked as he pointed at the dirt on his face and the blue overalls tied around his waist.

"You have no idea" Robert groaned into his neck as Aaron pulled him to him and squeezed his ass. Both of them were rock hard and the friction was mind blowing.

"Why don't you tell me then" Aaron rubbed his thigh against his crotch and Robert thought he might explode then and there. Robert backed him up so that he was leaning back against the counter again.

"Better yet I'll show you" he said, he reached down and undid where Aaron had tied the overalls around his waist and let them drop to the floor. But when Aaron went to kick them off completely he stopped him. The younger man looked a little awkward to be standing there, in just his boxer briefs with his overalls bunched around his ankles but when Robert sank to his knees pulling his boxers down with him that expression changed. His eyes rolled back into his head as Robert took him in his mouth. The sound coming from his mouth making Robert's own cock twitch. He groaned around Aaron and pulled him closer, cupping his buttocks with his hands and looking up at him with hungry eyes. Seeing the look of total bliss on his lovers face, the way his mouth hung open in pleasure almost had him cumming in his pants, but he wasn't going to let that happen. He wanted to be inside him, feel him around him clenched tight.

Aaron reached down and put his hand in his hair and Robert let him control the rhythym, he loved letting Aaron take control like this.

"Robert" Aaron grunted and it was almost like a plea, Robert knew what it meant, they'd done this often enough. He pulled away, replacing his mouth with his hand, his other hand cupping his balls and tugging slightly and then Aaron was cumming. His knees sagged slightly and Robert kept one hand on his cock, milking every last drop as it mostly landed on his face, but he put the other hand on his waist to help keep him upright.

Aaron looked down at him his face a mixture of satisfaction and embarassment that always seemed to follow an orgasm. Robert licked his lips where they were wet and then he reached down to grab the loose arm of the overall, using it to wipe his face clean, before standing back up and kissing Aaron again.

"Well that was..." Aaron rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Good?" Robert smirked.

"Interesting" Aaron offered instead.

"But good as well though?" Robert suddenly felt self conscious.

"Oh yeah, definitely good" Aaron smirked back. "Do you want to finish this off upstairs"

"God yes" Robert kissed him again, he couldn't get enough.

Aaron bent down to pull his overalls off his feet but Robert once again stopped him.

"No keep them on" he whispered into his ear. Aaron gave him a strange look before pulling them up and tying them back round his waist.

"You coming" he asked heading for the spiral staircase.

"No, but I soon will be" Aaron rolled his eyes at the lame joke. Robert gave his arse a slap as he chased him up the stairs.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They lay in bed afterwards side by side, sweaty and panting slightly. Aaron rolled onto his side and Robert copied so that they both lay facing each. Aaron reached out and put his hand on his chest, fingers stroking the scar on his chest like he liked to do.

"So the overalls then?" he said finally.

"Yeah" Robert grinned at him. "Didn't you know? That’s my favourite outfit on you".

"Good to know" Aaron leaned forward and rested his head on his chest. "I'm pretty sure I could pick a few more shifts up at the garage now I know that. I really need to have that shower now though" he sat up with a sigh, as unwilling as Robert to break contact.

"Mind if I join you?" Robert asked but he already knew the answer, after all they'd designed the bathroom around the extra large shower cubicle for a reason.

Aaron didn't answer but when he got to the bathroom door he turned and winked at him.

"Come on then big boy, ready for round two"

Robert laughed out loud at the ridiculous nickname, accurate but ridiculous none the less. He knew Aaron only said it to make him laugh. Well for that he was going to make him squeal. He jumped off the bed with more energy than he realised he had left and chased him into the bathroom, jumping over the the discarded overalls where they lay on the floor next to his own clothes.

The door shut behind them but Aaron's squeal echoed around the whole flat, mission accomplished.

[vicbartons]

#71 “You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?” please?

omg erin, i´m so sorry that this took so long, but real life is keeping me busy lately. hope you like it anyway ♡

It´s the sound of metal scratching against wood over and over again that wakes Robert up.

He blinks a few times, feeling slightly disoriented for a minute, until he realises that he´s not in bed, but still curled up on the armchair in their living room. Feet tucked under himself and cuddling with a throw pillow. He must have falllen asleep waiting up for Aaron; somewhere between reruns of Doctor Who and whatever late-night teleshopping nonesense is occuping the screen now, the low, monotonous voice of its presenter filling the room.

As he turns towards their front door, where he assumes the headache-inducing noise is coming from, he can feel a light crick in his neck. Someday, Robert is going to admit to himself that he is too old to sleep on anything other than a proper matress. He lets out a small groan and runs a hand over his face to rub the sleep from his eyes. In hopes of adjusting to the dark room around him, only illuminated by the dim light of the television, he blinks a few times, but he can´t make out anything more than a moving shadow on the other side of the pane of glass in the door to their flat.

Suddenly, the scratching stops, but it doesn´t take long for it to be replaced by a slurred, explative-laced tirade.

Robert smiles to himself.

Aaron then. And he is definitely drunk. Not that Robert had expected anything else, with him being out on his stag do.

The scratching starts off again, a clear sign that Aaron´s key still hasn´t found its way into the key-hole. Begrudgingly, Robert pushes himself out of the armchair and stumbles towards the door, careful not to stub his toe on their living room table or to fall over whatever clobber Liv has undoubtedly managed to scatter across their floor over the course of the day.

When he finally lets Aaron in, he drunkenly flounders forwards and into him, clearly not having expected the door to suddenly give.

“Oi! Careful, you,“ Robert catches him in his arms, his hands finding their way under his husband’s armpits to pull him upright.

“´obert,“ Aaron mumbles, and a bright smile spreads across his face as soon as his eyes manage to focus on him.

He looks gorgeous like this; red cheeks, wide eyes and his hair sligthly ruffled, no sign of his usual scowl. “I´ve got ya,“ Robert reassures and he can´t help the grin that tugs at his own lips at the sight of his husband. No matter how long he lives, Robert is fairly certain that he will never tire of seeing Aaron smile.

“You´ve been drinking tonight, haven´t you?“ he teases.

“Funny,“ Aaron huffs a laugh, as he tries to steady himself by tightly holding onto Robert´s shoulders,“you´re funny.” His index finger taps against Robert´s chest a few times, before he´s grabbing Robert´s jumper to pull him close, until their noses are touching. “Missed ya,“ he whispers.

“You too,” Aaron´s nose scrunches up adorably at the admission, and god, if it weren´t for his drunkenness and the light stench of alcohol and cigarette smoke sticking to his hoodie, Robert would kiss him right now.

“Didn´t tell ´em that… how funny y´are,“ Aaron says, but Robert is too focused on trying to drag his husband towards their bedroom to question it.

It doesn´t take long for him to realise that there is absolutely no way he´s getting Aaron up the spiral staricase and into bed in this state, at the very least not without waking up Liv. Not for the first time since their move, Robert curses himself for having insisted on the damn thing, against Ronnie´s advice. (Obviously, he would never admit that to anyone. He wasn´t about to let the likes of Zak Dingle come into his home and critizise his sense of interior design, thanks very much.)

“Sofa it is then,“ he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to Aaron. “You need to help me out a bit here, Aaron.” Robert is trying to get them to the sofa somehow, Aaron´s arms around his shoulder. He tugs him in at the hip, but Aaron feels like a bag of concrete next to him, putting his full weight on Robert and practically letting himself be dragged across the room, “Come on.“

“Should ´ave told ´em…“

“Told who what?“ Robert asks, but Aaron doesn´t seem to notice and carries on with his ramblings instead.

“Said I was a right idiot for marrying ya again,“ Aaron shakes his head at that, as if the notion of him not agreeing to finally make this marriage legal is utterly ridiculous to him, but Robert grimaces.

Eventhough him and the Dingles are back to a somewhat cordial relationship, most of them having reluctantly accepted that Aaron wasn´t going to budge on his decision to stick with Robert, they still are far from his biggest fans. Nowadays, Robert only has to endure the odd more or less well-meaning jib, whenever he runs into one of Aaron´s family members. Though given that practically half the village is related to his husband in one way or another, it still happens far more often than Robert would like.

He takes every dig in stride though, feeling like that is the least he deserves considering his monumental fuck-up.

Nevertheless, he should have known that they would use their chance of getting Aaron on his own to launch one last proper intervention. As they should. It´s not like Robert himself doesn´t spent every walking hour of every day wondering what on earth he´s done right in life for Aaron to give him yet another chance, after everthing.

The answer is probably “nothing”. This is all Aaron. Fiercly loyal and with a heart of gold when it comes to the people he loves. And for some inexplicable reason, Robert is one of the few people lucky enough to be loved by Aaron Dingle. Deep down, he is still unsure if his husband wouldn´t be better off without him, no matter how many times Aaron tries to convince him of the opposite, but if Robert has learned anything over the past year, it´s that as much as he´s trying to change for the better, he is still far too selfish to not hold on as tightly as he can and take every chance he´s offered when it comes to Aaron.

”Ya know,“ Aaron continues, tilting his head to the side, an apologetic look on his face, “with Rebecca and the lying and the shirts.“

Robert knows it´s coming, but her name still feels like a punch to the gut and he can´t help but flinch at the sound of it. No matter how good things are right now, he will never forgive himself for what happened with Rebecca and the way he-  

”My shirts?“ Suddenly, there´s a quizzical look on his face.

Aaron gives him a small nod. “Look like a posh twat, Cain said,“ Robert opens his mouth at that, ready to argue, but then he closes it shut again without having uttered a word. With him bone-tired and Aaron wasted, it doesn´t really seem the time to point out that Cain Dingle, who - if Robert remembers correctly - spent years with a haircut that made him look like a 90´s grunge band reject, should be the last person to comment on anyone else´s appearance.

”But I told ´em where to shove it,“ Aaron says proudly, when they finally reach the sofa.

”Did you now?“ Robert´s lips quirk up in a smile as he lets Aaron lie down and starts to loosen his shoe laces to pull off his boots. His husband, oblivious to his efforts thanks to god knows how many pints, being no help at all in the process.

“Defended your ´onor, like a proper husband.“

Robert huffs, “Course you did,“ he says and takes the blanket that´s purched over the edge of their sofa to tug Aaron in.

He´s hovering right over him, pulling the blanket over his husband´s shoulders, when Aaron´s hand finds its way into his hair and he begins to speak again, soft and full of adoration. ”Told ´em that you´re gorgeous and clever,“ Robert´s cheeks flush slightly red at that. It´s not like he doesn´t know that Aaron loves him, but hearing small confirmations like these out loud still sends shivers down his spine.

Aaron let´s his fingers run down Robert´s face until they cup his chin and continues, “Best thing that´s ever happened to me, you.“ He´s practically beaming at him now, his voice low and raspy from fatigue and alcohol. “Not my fault that they don´t know how soft and all y´are, really, but I do,“ his thumb caresses Robert´s cheek, “I know.“

The words rush over him like a wave of affection, leaving him with that comfortable, warm feeling of home in his stomach that only Aaron ever makes him feel. Like in this moment, he is exactly where he’s supposed to be. “Good. You´re the only one who needs to know, right?” He kisses Aaron´s cheek lightly, a smile on his lips, “Got a reputation to uphold and all.”

“And ya can do that thing with your tongue,“ Robert pulls away a bit and shakes his head, eyes wide, hoping that Aaron isn´t talking about what he thinks he is talking about, “that thing, on the kitchen counter.“ His hand runs down his face to muffle an embarassed moan. Of course he couldn´t be that lucky.

“Christ Aaron, they didn´t need to know about that, did they?“ Robert could only hope that the rest of the party had come home in as much of a state as Aaron. Otherwise, they´d probably both have to spent the next few weeks hiding out at home, avoiding Adam and most of the Dingles at all costs.

“Should do that again,“ Aaron tries but fails to quirk his eyebrows at Robert as his heavy eyes slowly fall shut, his whole body desperate for sleep.

“Yeah right,“ Robert whispers warmly, chuckling, “No chance of that happening until you´ve sobered up.“

“Hmpf.“

Robert leaves him on the sofa, while he goes to get Aaron a glass of water and the aspirin that he´s certainly going to need by the time he wakes up. From the kitchen, out of the corner of his eye, he can see Aaron akwardly shuffling around on the sofa. He sends most of their cushions flying to the ground, sleepily trying to make himself comfortable.

Robert returns, finally switches off the tv and puts the glass and the tablet down on their coffee table. “Night”, he whispers, before placing a kiss on Aaron´s forhead while tugging the blanket tightly around him again, ready to leave him be for the night.

“Stay ´ere,“ Aaron mumbles. He reaches out to grab Robert´s hand, but misses in his drunken haze. Instead, he just lets it hover in the air between them.

Robert turns back towards him and laces their fingers together.

He knows that his back isn´t going to thank him for this come morning. But then again, sleeping in their bed without his husband next to him won´t make for a good night´s sleep either – he learned that the hard way, back during Aaron´s stint in prison – and Robert would take a bit of back pain over not having Aaron softly snorring on his shoulder while he holds him close any day.

So he lies down beside his husband. He tries to make both of them fit on their sofa properly by pulling Aaron on top of him, though his feet still end up dangling over the edge.

“´ove ya,“ Aaron hums against his skin, before pressing a sloppy kiss to Robert´s jaw. Robert leans in and lets his cheek rest against Aaron´s hair, as his eyes slowly close shut.

“Love you,too.“

[biolumitranslations]

The Unicorn Legion - Chapter 19

Silent War

Turning to look at the trees, he saw a familiar figure.

Cain was swinging his sword as though fighting an invisible enemy.

Thrust, parry, forward, back, Cain moved without the slightest hesitation. His dancing sword reflected sunlight so dazzlingly, it was as though he was slicing cleanly through the air around him.

Intrigued by his skilled martial arts, the elf quietly began to approach, but before he had taken two steps the knight stopped. Suddenly, he turned and pointed his blade toward the elf:

“For a warrior like you to approach me now, are you challenging me?” Cain’s eyes were closed, and he spoke with a meditative expression.

Ellen smiled and silently took a few steps to the side, but Cain merely turned with him, keeping his swordpoint perfectly aligned with the elf.

Ellen thought for a moment before backing away and circling behind the knight before closing in.

As though he had eyes in the back of his head, Cain didn’t turn and simply raised his sword again, pointing directly at the elf.

“How are you doing that?”

“Perception magic. I can detect living things within a certain distance, especially if they have magical attributes.” Cain still didn’t open his eyes.

“So you can see even in the dark, or when something’s in the way?”

“Mm. Closing my eyes helps me focus.”

“A useful skill indeed,” Ellen nodded. “If you’re free, could you explain the magic you learned when you were a paladin?”

“I’d be happy to, Captain,” Cain opened his eyes. “But are you sure you don’t want to fight first?”

“Not a chance!” Ellen laughed. “If it were a long-distance fight, I could beat you without breaking a sweat, but if I let you get close it’ll be my loss.”

“Then, let me say this,” Cain looked serious. “I’ve been thinking about it, and although there’s no way to recover your reduced magical resistance, you can make up for it in other ways. For example, improving physically, and actively strengthening your defensive abilities. Even if you are hit, if you consciously focus on protecting your vitals, you can reduce the damage you take.”

“Cain . . .” the elf looked at him in surprise.

“I know elves don’t have much in the way of a physical advantage,” Cain smiled. “So, would you like to learn a few defensive moves?”

“Cain, you seem like you’ll enjoy being my teacher, am I right?”

“You could be right.”

“Then I have no reason to refuse,” Ellen smiled. “Where do we start?”

“First, let’s have a look at your strength,” the knight handed the elf a sheathed short sword. “Come at me!”

It was a quiet battle. Between a sheathed short sword and a sword, the sound isn’t harsh even as they’re clashing together. Cain was careful not to overpower him, and once he was sure Ellen could withstand his attacks, he shifted into a defensive stance.

Still, the tension of battle didn’t diminish.

The elf cautiously observed the knight, looking for an opportunity to strike, but he could only spot weaknesses just as Cain hid them, and they were gone before he could react. There was no doubt the knight had a disadvantage in agility, but as long as he didn’t make mistakes, it didn’t make a difference.

Nothing will happen if I just keep waiting, Ellen thought, and changed his strategy, attacking more actively. But he neglected his defense in the process, and was quickly stopped by Cain’s sword.

“One,” Cain said, and withdrew his sword.

Ellen understood the meaning of his comment. If this weren’t a practice fight, then Cain’s sword would have killed him once already.

Two times, three times, four times. The knight didn’t say them aloud, but the elf was keeping count. Each time it was only the tip, or the broad side of the blade, and the contact was always gone the next moment. But if this were actual combat, every one of them would have been fatal.

Ellen didn’t consider himself skilled in melee, but he was very experienced in dodging. However, this confidence crumbled over the course of the fight. Cain’s calm style of fighting was designed to make his opponents panic and to create an opportunity to strike; he didn’t push when he had the upper hand because he was waiting for his opponent to expose themselves further.

How long has this fight been? Five minutes? Ten minutes?

Cain said he’d go easy on me, but-

Ellen felt a jab of pain in his chest.

“Don’t get distracted,” Cain’s voice held a hint of displeasure.

“Sorry,” Ellen took a deep breath and concentrated on the battle.

At the very least, I can’t let Cain be disappointed.

Be patient, minimize his number of ‘deaths’, and an opportunity would surely come.

Finally, after blocking countless strikes, the opportunity he’d been waiting for arrived.

A hole appeared in Cain’s defensive footwork, and the next time their blades met Ellen pushed Cain’s to the side, stepped closer to the knight and brushed lightly against his chest before falling to the ground.

“One.”

“You did very well,” Cain smiled, and held out a hand to help him up.

The elf had been utterly tense all this time, and the fingers holding his short sword were stiff.

“Ellen,” the knight spoke with a mild tone. “Sometimes you become too focused on ‘attacking the target’ and ignore your own safety. This tactic can make your attacks very accurate, but it comes with a heavy price. Also, you are more easily injured than others.”

Ellen nodded, leaning against Cain’s shoulder and panting hard.

Of the original Unicorn Legion, he was indeed the member with the largest number of injuries. He’d always assumed it was because he was a weak archer, but apparently this wasn’t the case. In fact, it could be said that only luck had kept him alive thus far.

“It won’t be easy to try and change your fighting style at this point, but if you can, you should remember not to fight alone, and to listen to what your body is telling you. After all, not all wounds will fully recover after the battle. If you go all out in a single fight, you won’t be at your best in the next fight, and you’ll do yourself more harm than good.”

“Ah . . . I will try to change my habits . . . now that I think about it, I’m, hah, really lucky to have lived till now . . .”

Cain shook his head. “Your hand is a bit stiff, your breathing is too heavy; your shoulders and lungs are probably really hurting right now, correct?”

“Oh, you can tell?” Ellen laughed hoarsely. “Yes, that’s the gist of it. But my circumstances are rather unusual, so there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

“Those two points in the body are vital in a fight, so the matter of building up your strength again is essential. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us,” the knight frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to force you to this point just to expose the problem.”

“It’s not your fault . . . no, wait,” the elf looked up. “Just now, did you let me hit you just so you could stop the fight?”

“Oh, you figured it out?” Cain teased, his eyes narrowing happily.

“You . . .” Ellen stared at him, trying to look angry, but his heart was overflowing with a warm feeling.

“If you want revenge,” Cain grinned, “we can continue this in the afternoon- Mrs. Cavendish, is it time for lunch?”

“Huh?” The elf turned to see the Grand Mage’s wife a short distance away.

“Ah, before that,” the knight got down on one knee and secured the short sword to the elf’s belt. “. . . when I’m not beside you, let this protect you in my place.”

“Cain,” Ellen laughed, “thank you, but do I owe you anything for this?”

“As I’m letting you borrow it, you can just give it back when you don’t need it anymore,” Cain replied. “You know, I kind of miss those fast-paced battles we used to fight with the mercenaries. I hope someday we can do something like that again . . .”

“Well, I’ll hold out for as long as I can, but I doubt our future enemies will be so easily dealt with.”

“Yes,” the knight stood up. “The road is still very long, and you are the most important part of our team. Ellen, don’t give in too easily, alright? I know you can do this . . . we all do.”

This chapter was so sweet! Could it be that spring has finally sprung for everyone’s favorite elf? I’m rooting for you, Ellen!

Whew! It’s been a while, but I wanted to get another chapter of TUL done before moving forward with TDO. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

<< Chapter 18                    Chapter 20 >>

[blastoff-buster-blog]

The Kids Aren’t Alright // Self

“Buster... Buster!” Buster snapped his head up, awaken from his daydream by the sound of his mom’s voice. He'd been dreaming about a small cat and he was taking care of it, which was strange to him being that he was allergic. “Yea, mum?” “I asked how you've been doing. I haven't seen your... friends for a while.” Buster knew she didn't mean his actual friends because Buster’s dad never allowed Buster or his mother to have friends over. She meant friends like Buzz Lightyear. “Yea, I've been good, really well. Uh... nothing for the past month.” Buster’s mom smiled in that sweet way that a mom will sometimes smile when her child has explained that, after receiving a series of horrible grades, he finally got a E on his Herbology exam. It's not quite an O, which is what they should be getting in a subject like Herbology, but it's progress and she was still so proud of her little champ. At least, that was how Buster interpreted the smile.

“That's great, Buster! Listen, it's a nice day today; we should go to the movies.” This response made Buster laugh. “There’s like no good movies out. I mean...wait, is Dad working all day or something?” She nodded. “Mhm, which means let’s go have some fun,” she said. Mrs. Andson got up as she spoke, dancing in place slightly to some invisible music. It would be fun to just chill and watch a film and relax with his mom. No one to worry about but themselves. “Yea, sure, I'll put on some proper pants,” Buster said. He went to the back of the house where his room was and his mother went to get dressed as well. They lived in a two-story home, but the majority of everything took place downstairs. Buster was sure it was just a way for his father to have more control over them. He paused as he picked out his quarter inch of hair. He'd been growing it out a little for the summer.

Buster hadn't been out with his mom in a long time. 6 months maybe? He blamed himself a little for that, since he went into town quite frequently, leaving Mrs. Andson to her own figurative and literal devices. She wasn’t exactly an inventor or a designer since she’d never sought out to make her work public but she was a tinkerer of various sorts. Usually, Buster’s excuse as to why he never snuck her out was because she was so content at home with herself and her projects. Really, both of them just understood that if something should go wrong, someone had to be there to deal with Buster’s dad.

“Buster, let's-” His mom’s voice stopped at the sound of the front door opening. Buster stood in his room quietly, holding his breath, waiting to see what was going to happen. He wished he was outside so he could see exactly what was going on, but he had a feeling that his father had just opened the door.

“Where are you going looking like that?” Harold Andson had a deceivingly calm voice. It made you think he was possibly joking around or happy, the way he'd ask questions. He rarely ever was.

“I was going to... I’m taking Buster to the cinema.” On the contrary, Miriam Andson’s voice consistently feigned a confidence she did not have. She was a strong woman but she knew her limits. Buster could hear his dad laughing. He felt like a coward on this side of the door, but his feet were grounded in place.

“The cinema, huh? How can you go see a movie when you can't leave the house?!” The quickness with which the man’s tone turned aggressive, coupled with the sound of a crash, were what it took for Buster to storm out of his room and into the living room.

“Don't touch her!” he shouted, as he surveyed the scene. His father was gripping Miriam by the collar of her summer dress. Still, Buster kept a few feet of distance as his father released her.

“Oh, what, you think you're a big man now, aye? You’re not bigger than your old man, don't forget that.”

“Buster, why don't you just go into town for a little bit?” his mother suggested. She sounded as though the situation was hardly as serious as it was. Buster shook his head and as he looked down at the floor behind his mom, he saw the smashed picture frame that had caused the noise earlier.

“God, Miriam! This is why he's so weak. Stop coddling him!” Harold took another step forward towards Miriam and Buster took another towards his dad. All the while, Mrs. Andson only looked at Buster.

“Just go outside, sweetie,” she urged.

“Dammit, what’d I just say?!” Seeing his father lunge for his mom sent Buster flying in the man’s direction. He pushed him just enough to put distance between the two males and Mrs. Andson. Afterwards, Buster just stood there looking at his father. He’d never really lashed out his dad physically in any way other than self-defense, and the look of disgusted shock on his father’s face showed that Buster wasn't the only one who realized this.

“Well, go ahead,” he baited. “If you're going to take the first punch you better finish the fight.” Buster’s arms stayed glued to his sides. Fighting was one thing he certainly never did. He wanted to run, he wanted to disappear but no one was stepping up. No Nesbit, no Lightyear. “Hm? Hit me!” The man pushed Buster back, trying to provoke him. It was like the Gryffindor was in an angry stupor, just blowing hot air out of his nostrils.

“Harold, stop! I swear to-” Miriam moved toward her husband but with a firm pointed finger in her direction, she stopped.

“Miriam, we’ll talk in a minute.” He looked back at Buster. “No? I’ll show you how to finish a damn fight.” It took Harold grabbing and squeezing Buster’s head in his hands to temporarily snap Buster out of his stasis. Buster felt the increasing pressure on both sides of his skull and his hands rushed to his face in an attempt to pry the man’s fingers off of him.

“This is my house, you understand me? This is my house, and I own everything inside it. That includes my wife and my son! I am in control here and I will do want I want!” Harold let go but Buster could still feel the pressure in his head increasing. He collapsed to his knees and heard a worried cry from his mother but everything seemed miles away. He wanted to get up and fight for his mother, to not be so weak. Buster squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out something. Anything. Everything.

Buster’s mother rushed to his side, rubbing his back, trying to calm her son down and alleviate the situation in some way. “It's okay, it's okay, I'm here, Buster, it's you and me, we’re o- don't touch me!” Harold grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her backwards. “I told you not to leave this house!” She screamed out as he grabbed her by the hair. At that moment, Buster’s eyes opened. He stood up and turned to face the man in front of him. “Sit down and play with your dolls, Buster,” the man said. The alter smirked. This man in front of him was clearly no good. But neither was he. “Buster’s not here right now, leave a message,” he said, stepping closer to Buster’s father, who let go of Miriam’s hair and straightened himself up.

“Who the hell is this?” Mr. Andson said with a chuckle. “Space boy? Old nun woman? God, you're not a child, Buster! You can't keep playing pretend like an idiot!” Mrs. Andson scrambled to her feet, knowing very well what Buster and Mrs. Nesbit and Buzz Lightyear sounded like and aware that this was none of these.

“Can you tell us who you are, dear?” she asked cautiously.

Today being the first day Buster had ever initiated even minor violence with his father, the last thing Harold Andson was expected was to be punched in the face by him. He certainly didn't expect it to hurt. Mrs. Andson gasped and her hands flew to her mouth. “So, you fin-” But this personality didn't wait to hear a speech from the man. He hit him again in the nose, evoking blood. Then again in the stomach, doubling Harold over and again in the face sending the man to the floor. He was only now getting started, so he followed the man to the ground to hit him again. And again. And again. “Buster! Buster, stop! You're k-...” she paused, mulling over the idea in her head, but Miriam decided her son’s innocence was more important. She grabbed him by the shoulders, but she was pushed back forcefully in a way that shocked Mrs. Andson as she fell backwards. Buster was not a violent boy, but this wasn't Buster. “Buster, please!” The punches came with a rhythm even as Harold was no longer retaliating. With each blow to Harold, the alter spoke.

“I. Am. Cain!”

Then Cain suddenly stopped. And then he was gone.

Buster looked at his father’s bloody face. He was unconscious, no doubt about that, maybe even dead. Oh God. Maybe dead. Oh God. Buster started hyperventilating as he stumbling backward, terrified at the the thought of what he had done. But it wasn't him, not really, it wasn't him.

“Mum, I didn't- mum! I didn't mean to. I didn't... Mum!” And then Buster fainted; the sound of his head hitting the floor breaking the deafening silence in the room.

/////////////////////////

The two women sat in the emergency room, each with their legs crossed and each shaking their dangling foot anxiously.

“He's going to press charges against Buster.”

“He wouldn't dare. One look at me and they'd know he was just defending me.”

“One look at Harold and they'd know that goes far beyond self-defense. I mean, we all saw what happened. All of us.” She motioned to her head, to indicate just who the ‘we’ was that she was referring to.

“Norma, I just... need to know what steps I should take to protect my son.”

“I am protecting your son. Lightyear, too. Buster needs us to-”

“You are who I need to protect him from!” Mrs. Andson said in a harsh whisper. Both of them knew how strange it was for them to talk about this, especially Mrs. Andson. She was telling the woman in her son’s body to get out. “Mrs. Nesbit, just... is he okay? I mean, at school when I'm not with him.”

Mrs. Nesbit looked at the woman and raised an eyebrow as if to say, ‘Uh, what do you think?’ What she really said was, “You know everyone loves him at his little school. He did get in a bit of a fight during the summer, which I diffused... to some extent. But the boy’s traumatized. Leaving you with that... animal everyday is killing him. And it's going to kill you. Harold did all of that sober today. And now he's laid off? What do you think’s going to happen to Buster if he loses his mum at 17?”

“You know I don't have anywhere to go. I don't have a job, I don't have family, I don't have any-” she hushed her voice in the muggle hospital, “magic. You know, it's not just his threats that keep me there. I'm surprised he hasn't voodoo cursed the house to never let anyone out.”

“There are shelters, I know people in the community and so does Buster. Someone will-”

“No! I'm looking for a textiles job, I can sew clothes from home and once I get enough money for an apartment... we’ll see.”

“I can arrange that; I've got a million contacts in that arena. We can get Buster a job, too.” There was a lengthy, disapproving silence before Mrs. Andson spoke again. She had been crying quietly.

“Is this my fault?” Mrs. Nesbit turned to her and hugged her tightly.

“Oh, sweetheart...” But she didn't know what to say really. Maybe it was everyone’s fault, including Buster’s.

“But he's not okay. He's my baby and he's not okay.”

“No. We’re not okay.”

[bkwrm523]

Visions from the Abyss Chapter 5: Hide And Seek

Title: Visions from the Abyss Chapter 5: Hide And Seek Rating: R for violence and horror Pairing: Leonard/reader Word Count: 3562 Warnings: If you are easily squicked by horror and violence and gore, DO NOT READ!  I’m not kidding around here, this chapter is serious.  There is no smut in this chapter. Tags:  @starshiphufflebadger @imoutofmyvulcanmind @medicatemedrmccoy@mrswhozeewhatsis @sebbytrash @imamotherfuckingstar-lord @yourtropegirl @annalisehartmann @madhattervanessa @feelmyroarrrr @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @sistasarah-sallysaidso @mccoymostly @mysupernaturalfics @whatif-animagineblog @thing-you-do-with-that-thing@vintagevalentinexx @loverbug1123 Summary: The rest of the bridge crew has been rescued, leaving only person still trapped in their nightmare; the reader. Author’s Note: Quite a few things to say here.  One, this is not the final chapter.  Two, beta’d by @yourtropegirl .  There, there’s some weapons mentioned you need some background info on.  I’ll link you guys to some relevant youtube vids of said weapons, ‘kay?  The Assault Rifle (The Revenant from Mass Effect).  Also, do you see the armor the main character’s wearing in that video?  The person holding the revenant that the camera’s fixed on?  That’s the armor mentioned in the fic.  The Scorpion pistol, and the Cain.  The AA-12 shotgun, I’ve been informed, is a real shotgun shown here.

One last warning.  There’s quite a few movie references in here.  If you’re not up on old horror movies, you may not get them.  You’ve been warned.

Chapter 1: Spock Chapter 2: Jim Chapter 3: Scotty Chapter 4: Uhura and Leonard Chapter 6: Bug Hunt

Y/f/n Y/l/n was neatly printed above the last door in the hallway.  The group stood outside it, silently staring and wondering.

“Maybe some of us should wait out here?”  Scotty suggested hesitantly, finally breaking the silence.

“I believe that would be unwise, Mr. Scott,”  Spock replied.  “It seems as though Lieutenant Y/l/n is the last crewman still in a nightmare.  The results of waking the last crewman will be unpredictable.”

“Spock’s right.  Guess Y/n’s just gonna have to live with the embarrassment.”  Jim spoke up.  He took a breath, then opened the door.  White light filled the hallway, brighter and brighter until it swallowed them all.

***

When the light faded, they were all standing right where they had been, in the halls of the Enterprise.  But there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that they’d successfully entered Y/n’s dream.

For one thing, they were all wearing full body armor.  Dark navy blue armor, with the occasional small white panel for accents.  On the top of everyone’s right shoulder, the armor said “USS Enterprise NCC-1701”.  They each had on a full helmet, encasing their heads.  All in all, it resembled the space suits, but thicker and clearly designed for combat.

The hallway was wrecked.  There was no one there, no sign of people, but the floors, walls, and the ceiling all showed rips, scorch marks, random splashes of blood.  Something had gone very wrong.

“Captain?”  Uhura asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence, her voice filled with uncertainty.

“Let’s go to the bridge.”  Jim replied after a moment, forcing his voice level.

“What the hell happened here?”  Leonard wondered aloud.

“She’s your girlfriend, Bones.”  Jim prodded his friend.  “What’s her worst nightmare?”

“With what we’re seeing?  I have no idea.  But I don’t like it.”  Bones grumbled as they walked through the deserted hallway.

“It’s a nightmare, Doc.”  Scotty spoke up.  “It’s not supposed ta be a walk in the park.”

“Computer,” Jim halted as they reached a computer terminal just as the hallway made a sharp left turn.  “Locate crewman Y/n.”

“Unable to comply.”  The computer cheerfully chirped back.  It was clearly malfunctioning, static interrupting its voice, pitch and tone changing randomly.

“Where the hell is the exit from this fucking trip?”  Leonard muttered darkly.

“This ship is currently under quarantine.  Exit is impossible until the biological pathogens have been neutralized.”  The computer replied to Leonard’s rhetorical question.

“Quarantine?”  Nyota muttered, frowning.

“No virus did this.”  Jim replied.

“Remember, safety is everyone’s goal.  It has been zero days since a workplace death.”  The computer cheerfully told the group as they walked away.

“Well, that’s a great sign.”  Leonard snarked.

“Captain, there is no situation where the Enterprise computer is programmed to give that warning.”  Spock informed them all.

“It’s an ambiance thing, Spock.  Adds to the creepy, horror movie feel of this whole nightmare.”  Jim replied.  

“Question is, which horror movie.”  Scotty contributed.  They turned down the hallway, everyone hyper-alert, until they started to approach an intersection.  The only warning they had was a second or two of rattling near the ceiling of the hallway just in front of them.

Four of them dropped about five feet in front of the group, just beyond the intersecting hallway.  They were solid black, and humanoid.  There was a long, sharp tail that curled behind them.  Their heads had no obvious eyes, just huge mouths with too many teeth.  Scotty cursed in Gaelic, and the creatures just hissed wordlessly at the group.  It wasn’t clear who drew their phaser first, but they all quickly fired at the creatures.

To no effect.

The creatures advanced on them, forcing them back a few steps.  Until they reached the aperture of the hallway.

The first new thing that they were aware of, was the sound.  It sounded like a nail gun, but with the quick, measured spacing of an assault rifle.  The weapon, whatever it was, ripped into the creatures.  No single bullet pierced their thick hides by itself, but enough of the bullets came that they were injuring the creatures that yellow blood splashed out of them, hissing as it hit the walls and floor of the hallway and ate through the steel.  Jim quickly ushered the group further back, evading the acidic blood.  One of the creatures quickly died, and the others gave terrifying, angry screeches at the machine gun fire.  There was no break in the gunfire; whoever was holding it must’ve had nerves of steel and they kept shooting, the noise getting louder as they got closer, until two more fell.  The gunfire finally paused, and the remaining creature picked itself up off the wall and launched itself towards the newcomer.

They were ready for it, and there was more gunfire.  Different though; the pause must have been the person switching weapons.  This gun wasn’t automatic, but was deeper and louder.  A shotgun?  Whatever it was fired quickly and blasted the creature back against the wall, dead in a handful of shots.

There was silence for a moment, only the sound of breathing and footsteps as the newcomer came into sight, wielding an enormous shotgun.  She held it up, pointing the barrel safely away from them.  It took only a moment for them to recognize Y/n.

“Come with me if you want to live.”  Y/n said, her voice level and measured, but a little rough and weary.  She almost sounded bored.  Without stopping to look if they followed, she turned and retreated down the hallway she came.

“Y/n, you all right?”  Leonard asked, obviously concerned, as they hurried after her.

“I’m fine, Leonard.”  She assured him.  She was trying to sound soothing, but she still sounded vaguely bored.

“Where are we going?”  Jim asked.

“And what the hell were those things?!”  Uhura chimed in.

“Xenomorphs.  And we’re going to the armory.  We’re gonna need to get you guys weapons that work.”  Y/n answered.

“Oh, fuck me, those’re those things from Alien?!”  Scotty immediately recognized the word.

“Lieutenant, your tone suggests a lack of emotional connection to the moment that concerns me about your mental health.”  Spock interrupted.

“Worry about my mental health when we get out of here, Commander.”  Y/n replied briskly, not even looking back.

“Y/n, this is a dream.  None of this is real.”  Jim told her urgently.

“I know.”

“Y/n, you have to- wait, what?”  Jim stuttered a little, Y/n’s instant acceptance startling him.

“For one thing, those are Xenomorphs.  From a movie.”  She began explaining.  “For another, this is the eighth time I’ve had this conversation.  Just through here.”  Y/n brought them into a room, filled with firearms.  “Arm up.  Phasers don't seem to do anything to them.  You're going to need something with bullets.”

“What do you mean this is the eighth time having this conversation?”  Uhura asked gently as the others started wandering the racks of guns.

“It's a different group each time, but I keep running into you guys periodically.”  Y/n still sounded bored, but her voice was showing signs of strain.

“Where are the other uses, sweetheart?”  Leonard asked, his voice impossibly gentle in sharp contrast to the violent surroundings.  “What keeps happening, are we dead?”

“No.  It'd be easier if you were.”  Y/n replied cryptically.  Her voice cracked and she sounded desperate, near tears.

“I'm guessing they're in the hatchery, lass?”  Scotty asked gently.  Y/n didn't reply, but the devastation visible on her face through the faceplate of her helmet answered for her.

“Scotty, what's the hatchery?”  Jim asked, turning to the engineer.  He was already sure he didn't want to know, but the current situation didn't allow for the luxury of ignorance.

“Captain, the creatures in the movies use humans and other intelligent species as living incubators for their eggs.  Captured humans are implanted with embryos in their stomachs, then typically hung on the wall in a room, alive and conscious, until the embryo hatches.  Newly hatched Xenomorphs claw their way out of the human host violently, and devour them.”  Spock interrupted.  His clinical explanation made the subject matter a little easier to bear, but only a little.

“While they're still alive?”  Uhura asked, a hand flying to her mouth.  Leonard was looking a little green, and Jim didn't feel much better.

“The movies are typically classified as horror.”  Spock replied.

“Jesus.”  Jim murmured under his breath.  “Nice choice of nightmares, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, sir.”  Y/n smiled weakly at the Captain.

“So what's the plan, Y/n?”  Jim asked her.

“Staying alive is about as far ahead as I'm thinking, sir.”

“We could try the climate controls, sir.”  Scotty suggested.  “Maybe if we make it too cold for the buggers, they'll need to leave.  Or at least be easier prey.”

“We tried that three times already, Scotty.  Never once made it to the engine bay.  It's not gonna work any better this time.”  Y/n argued back.  “We should try and find a shuttle or escape pod they haven't gotten to yet and just get the hell out of here.”

“And just abandon the ship?”  Uhura demanded.

“Ship’s already lost.  So’s the rest of the crew.  We need to leave while we still can.”  Y/n’s voice finally showed some emotion; urgency and desperation showed through her facade a little.

“We can't just give up!  Sir,” Uhura continued, turning to Kirk before he cut her off with a gesture.

“Here we go again.”  Y/n muttered under her breath, giving a defeated sigh.

“I agree that we can't just give up.”  Kirk began, noting Y/n’s barely audible defeat.  “But we have to do something different or this is just gonna be a repeat of every other time she’s tried.  Spock, Scotty, how do they get these things in the movies?”

“They're insects, sir.  They have a- sort of a hierarchy.”  Scotty began.

“They have a queen.”  Spock interrupted.  “Typically, when the protagonists are faced with large numbers of the Xenomorphs, the only way to defeat them is to kill the queen.”

“Great.  Y/n, have we ever tried that before?”  Kirk asked.

“Um, well, no.  It's never come up.”  Y/n replied hesitantly.

“So we have a plan.  Where's the queen?”

“No idea.”  Y/n replied with a shrug.

“Scotty, Spock, you know the most about these things.  Where would the queen be?”  Jim asked, turning slightly away from Y/n to face the rest of the group.

“The queen is typically larger in size than the others, and spends much of her time creating eggs for the workers to spread.  It is likely she will reside somewhere with a great deal of space, and with a moderate temperature.”  Spock suggested.  Y/n was internally a bit surprised at how he was able to remain so calm about all this.  Blame the Vulcan side of him, she supposed.

“Engineering bay’s the biggest room in the ship, sir.  Also, y/n just said it was well protected, we didn't manage to get near it.”  Scotty chimed in.

“Makes sense that they’d protect wherever the queen is the most.”  Uhura said.

“I strongly advise seeking an alternate route to engineering, Captain.”  Spock spoke again.  Y/n had been about to protest, remind them again of her failure to reach engineering the last time they’d tried, but Spock beat her to it.  “Based on Y/n’s assessment and logic, it is likely that most routes to Engineering will be met with strong resistance.”

“Wait, what about the transporter room?”  Leonard chimed in.

“If we can get there and get it working, we could transport right to engineering, get past all those things.”  Scotty continued Leonard's thought, starting to sound excited.

“I can definitely say we haven't tried that before.”  Y/n suggested, her voice finally betraying a little positive emotion.  Leonard's eyes flicked to her, a little concern in his gaze.  He didn't move to her or touch her, but his eyes stayed on her.

“So, we’ve got a plan.  Transporter’s five decks away.”  Kirk began.  “Everybody arm up, and get ready to climb.  Lieutenant Y/l/n, you got anything that can take down the queen?”

“Definitely.”  For the first time, Y/n sounded actually confident.  She gave a small, evil looking smirk, and gestured to one of the guns on her back.  “The Cain only has two shots, but trust me, that’s all it needs.”

“You have a Cain?!”  Scotty exclaimed, sounding horrified and gleeful all at once.  “Well, that’ll definitely take care of the queen.  Probably blow up the warp core while we’re at it.”

“This isn’t real, Scotty.  All I have to do is kill her, and we should wake up.”  Y/n replied.

“You still don’t think we’re real, do you, lass?”  Scotty asked her quietly.  Y/n sighed.

“Does it matter?”  Y/n replied.  Scotty opened his mouth, starting to reply, but he was beat to it.

“If everyone’s armed, we really need to get moving.”  Leonard interrupted Scotty, moving towards the door.

“Be careful with that gun.”  Y/n told Leonard as they filed out of the armory.

“Why?  It’s just a pistol.”

“It’s call the Scorpion and it shoots sticky grenades.”

“Damn, Y/n.  Got enough firepower?”

“Quiet back there.”  Jim interrupted them.  “We’re playing hide-and-seek here.  Let’s do it right.”

“Doctor,” Scotty hissed quietly at from behind the doctor, as they crawled into the Jeffries tube.

“What?”

“Aren’t yeh going ta talk to her?”  Scotty asked.  “I mean, the lass is clearly upset, even I can see it.”

“No, I’m not, Scotty.”

“An’ why the hell not?!”

“Scotty, look at her.  She’s barely holding it together.  Only reason she made it this far is because she knows she doesn’t have time to break down.  Because if she does we’ll all die.  If I touch her wrong, she’s gonna shatter. It's killing me not doing anything, but it'll be better for everyone involved if I pick up the pieces later rather than do damage control now.”

Jim was in the lead as they crawled through the Jeffries tubes, all trying to stay as quiet as they could.  Y/n was right behind him, followed by Leonard, Scotty, Spock, and Uhura bringing up the rear.  Leonard briefly considered making a comment about the splendid view of his girlfriend’s ass he had, but decided to stay silent.

Y/n tried to throttle down the sense of frustration she felt, with limited success.  Stuck in the middle of an assembly line of crewmen, barely enough room to move around in the tubes as is; but with all the guns strapped to her back and the armor, it was a challenge to squirm forwards.  Let alone to do so quietly.

There was no conversation as they crawled single file through the Jeffries tubes.  Y/n’s nightmare had become a grotesque game of hide-and-seek, with suicidally high stakes.  The tension in the tube was thick enough to cut, but no one made an attempt to lighten the mood.  Every little noise the ship made had everyone tensing, sometimes pausing briefly as they tried to anticipate the possible attack.  When the attack finally did come, no one heard it coming.

Uhura gave a small cry of pain that had everyone looking back. Spock shouted, and Y/n could barely see him grab her shoulders painfully tight, yanking her back towards him and preventing the creatures from pulling her away.  Y/n’s breath caught, and she was overwhelmed by a myriad of emotions.  Helplessness, fear, rage… the list went on.  She almost started tearing up, certain that she was about to see Uhura get taken.

Again.

Loud gunshots filled the small space, startling Y/n into jumping.  She blinked away the tears filling her eyes, and tried to move around to get a better look.

Uhura held an identical copy of the shotgun Y/n had used before.  She had it carefully braced, and fired repeatedly in the direction of the alien.  Somebody passed a pistol (thankfully NOT the Scorpion) down to Spock, and he quickly wielded it one handed (unwilling to totally let go of Uhura just yet), and joined her in shooting the barely seen threat.

They either managed to kill the thing or it retreated, Y/n wasn't sure.  She was about to speak, to urge them to hurry, but Jim beat her to it.

“Come on.”  Jim said, breaking the tense silence.  “They’ll’ve heard that.  We need to move.”

The group moved faster then, managing to make it to the transporter room without encountering more Xenomorphs.  Y/n’s nerves got worse and worse with every passing moment that the creatures did not appear.

Scotty immediately went to the transporter controls, setting about fixing the abandoned machine.  Everyone else formed a loose, defensive circle around the engineer, trying to look everywhere at once.

“ETA, Scotty?”  Jim asked, his voice calm and quiet.

“Just a few minutes, Captain.”  Scotty replied, half of him already disappearing into the innards of the controls.

“Spock, see if you can help him out.  We need all the time we can get.”  Jim ordered his first officer.  Spock didn't reply, just holstered his gun and hurried over to Scotty.

Nobody spoke as the two officers worked on the console.  Everyone had weapons out, forming a loose circle around them.  Every moment longer that it took, Y/n’s nerves frayed a little more.  At least her hands hadn’t started trembling, she reflected.  Yet, anyway.  Despite everything, she was still morbidly convinced that this would all turn sideways.  Sooner or later.

Jim’s palms were sweating; he was grateful for the armored suits to hide it.  As the Captain of the Enterprise, he’d seen situations about as weird as this, but this one was currently taking the horror cake.  Spock was trying to focus as much as he could on the problem at hand; namely, fixing the transporter console.  But despite his best efforts, he kept running probabilities in his head, over and over again.  Leonard’s hands tightened on his gun; he had to force his attention away from Y/n and the others; he needed to focus on his surroundings.  Scotty wanted very much to cuss out the console; it was a common defense mechanism he reverted to.  But he couldn’t make any noise.  It’d just get them all caught.  Scotty forced himself silent, ignoring how much he was sweating given the temperature of the room.  A few muttered curses might have made it out under his breath, though.  Uhura was… calm.  Eerily so.  Nothing more than a nightmare, none of it was real.  She refused to be afraid of imagined terrors.  Real ones, maybe.  But these couldn’t really do anything to her.  She kept her guard up, and her breathing steady.  Had to focus.

“Why these movies?”  Jim asked Y/n quietly after a moment.

“Sir?”  Y/n asked, throwing a confused frown in his direction.

“Just curious; why the Alien movies?”

“I dunno.  The first two creeped the hell out of me.  Just stuck with me, I guess.”

“Jesus, Jim, is this really the right time?”  Leonard interjected.

“Bones, when is there ever a right time-” Jim began.

The metal in the ceiling above them groaned, cutting off all conversation.  Everyone pointed their guns up, breathing quickened.  No one spoke as they moved, mostly idle pacing as they all tried to find the best place to be standing.  The noises moved randomly over the ceiling, drawing their eyes back and forth, all over the room.  Metal continued to groan, and everyone wondered where they’d show up from first.

A loud squeal made them all jump, as one of them popped up… right in front of the console that Scotty and Spock were working on.

Leonard swore, and they all opened fire on it.  With crossfire from so many directions, it wasn’t long before the thing dropped.

And then two more crawled out of the same hole.

Y/n turned pale as more of them came into the room, and she could hear pounding and scratching at the door.

“Sir, we’re getting swarmed!”  Y/n shouted at Jim.

“Scotty, Spock, how long?”  Jim yelled.

“Just a few more seconds, sir!”  Scotty replied.  His movements at the console were clipped and frantic.  Everyone knew they may not have a few more seconds.

One of them grabbed Leonard, pulling his legs out from under him.  No one screamed as loud as Y/n did.  She pulled out the shotgun and emptied the clip into the thing holding him.  Uhura and Jim moved quickly, yanking Leonard to his feet again.

“Got it sir!”  Scotty yelled, finally.

“Everyone on the pad!”  Jim yelled.  They all hurried there as Scotty stayed at the console, setting up the controls.

“Scotty!  Get over here!”  Leonard yelled.  Scotty yelled wordlessly in frustration, as he finished setting up the controls.  He hit the last button, vaulting over the console as the others covered him from the transporter pad.  He lept for the pad, as the transporter was set on a delay of a few seconds.  Jim and Spock reached for him…

Right as a Xenomorph yanked Scotty’s legs out from under him.

Y/n screamed, and Spock took a half step forwards.  He grabbed Scotty’s arm, yanking the engineer towards the padd.  

Right as the transporter took effect.