#should I put this on ao3

[transgenderchainsawman]

Steve x Garrett fanfiction 🫶🔥

Steve was sitting by his last build. Another cottage. Nothing new. But it was a nice one. Again.

The only thing different was who else was sitting next to it, silently judging.

Garret.

Garret loved to judge his builds. Everything to the last minute details: the type of wood, a misplaced table, even the type of PAINTING. Nothing was good enough for him, Steve didn’t know why.

He kept trying to impress him, make his builds more flashy, cool, insane, anything that would get a smile out of Garret. But nothing stuck. All Garret would say was: “S’alright.”

S’alright??

No one built rollercoasters like him!! His diamond block houses were legendary, his gardens were plentiful, his glowstone portals were undeniably perfect.

Steve knew he was good. He just wanted to be great for Garret. But it was never enough. So he stopped trying. Watching Garret react to his cottages, his farms, his normal village builds, it was strange. Garret still said it, that never changed, but the thickness of the air did. It sat heavy on both their shoulders, an unspoken understanding that Steve had stopped trying and that the ball was in Garret’s court.

So Steve waited for his play.

Garret looked over the cottage, his usual routine, and stood back again.

“S’alright.”

Steve just stared at him. He knew it was coming but it didn’t mean he liked it.

“Is that it? That really all you gotta say?”

Garret returned his stare, but with a confused air.

“…What do you want me to say?”

That was progress.

“I don’t know?! It’s good! It’s great! It’s something actually worth complimenting and maybe you aren’t a shitty builder??”

Garret was obviously shocked. Steve felt a sense of satisfaction in his power over the situation, Garret obviously doesn’t want to talk and now he was being forced to, isn’t that fun?

“I, uh… wasn’t aware you needed my compliments to keep building.”

“I wasn’t saying that!”

“Then what we’re you saying?”

Steve huffed. He couldn’t believe this guy, did he seriously want to spell it out to him like a school kid?

“I’m saying there’s no need to be a dick about everything I build! Would it kill you to be nice for once?”

Now that left him stunned, this time with no confusion at all. He knew exactly what he’d done and how Steve was feeling, how he made him feel.

Garrett didn’t look angry. He looked… apologetic? No, he’s never looked that way before, not for him. He would give him the satisfaction.

“Are you gonna keep staring at me or you finally gonna say something?”

And then he did something he didn’t expect. He actually did speak. Truthfully.

“I… I thought you knew that I was, you know…”

“What?”

“…Kidding.”

…

Huh??

“What the hell do you mean you’re kidding?”

“I mean I’ve been kidding. Y’know, when someone is joking? When they obviously don’t mean what they’re saying?”

“But you… huh??”

It made no sense!!

Except it kinda did.

Looking back on every instance where he tried to impress him, Garrett really did look quite impressed. It was only when he finished he would switch up on him. But he seemed so genuine at the time?

Maybe the autism diagnosis was right.

“Wait so… you actually liked them?”

“Yes.”

“Even the cottages?”

“Yes.”

“Even the diamond house?”

“Yes.”

“Even the rollercoaster?”

“Especially the roller coaster, that shit was the bomb and I’ll never get over it.”

It was Steve’s turn to be silently shocked. Not only did Garret not hate his builds, he LIKED them. He genuinely appreciated them!

“I… didn’t know. I had no idea man.”

“How the hell didn’t you know? I thought it was obvious.”

“I thought it was obvious that you hated me and my builds.”

“You… you thought I hated you?”

“No… yeah. Maybe, I don’t know! You’re confusing me, why do you hang around and joke with me if you’re not judging me?”

Garret stepped closer to Steve, laughing to himself, “Why do you think?”

Oh?

Oh.

Oh.

How could he not see that? How could he miss something that BIG that was right in front of him?

Right. The autism.

But still! Surely he couldn’t be that oblivious?

“You mean…”

“You know what I mean dude, don’t make me say it.”

He really wanted him to say it. Badly.

“But how? How did you… why didn’t you say?”

“I don’t usually, um, broadcast my so-called feelings to people. Especially to the dude I’m… well. You know.”

“No, Gar Gar I don’t know, I haven’t known. You need to tell me things man.”

“You first.”

Huh?

“You need to tell me why you wanna impress me so bad. What’s up with that? Call me crazy but… come on.”

He wasn’t crazy.

Steve had sort of known for a while. Ever since they met and they held each other’s arms… the heated gaze that they held so passionately… it ignited Steve like flint and steel.

It kept happening. Again and again. That heat. It exhilarated him, every glance more intense than the other. It was sickening in the best way, in ways that burned away every part of him that was ill. He wanted.

He hadn’t ever felt that. So he let himself watch what happened. Didn’t make a move, didn’t step back, just let things happen. But he was tired of waiting. Diamonds don’t mine themselves.

“Oh I’m definitely crazy.”

Without giving himself more time to second guess himself, he closed the little distance that was left between them and pressed his own lips on Garrett’s. They were rough, uneven, probably from nervous biting, but Steve made it his job to soften them up.

Their hands explored each other like finding a whole new biome after 50 years, like an oasis in a desert. A hunger being satisfied, a prophecy being fulfilled.

Two men and their dicks.

Everything was right.

[autumn-equinox-04]

everywhere i go (leads me back to you)

i miss you, i'm sorry - gracie abrams

s1ep4 case of the lighthouse leapers au: branching from payneland's mini argument

multi-part

"What d'you mean, why am I getting so angry? You're sneaking off and doing dangerous things, Edwin! I thought we were meant to be partners."

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Charles."

"You shouldn't have to be, should you? I'm meant to be the brawn. How am I meant to protect you when you won't tell me what's going on?!"

"Charles, it is not your job to—"

"Yes, it is, mate! You won't do it yourself, will you?"

"Of course I will—"

"Of course you will. Just like you did when that tosser put that bracelet on you in the first place."

"...."

"Wait. No— Edwin, I didn't mean it like that, I swear! Edwin— please—"

"We should get back to the case."

"Edwin—"

"I believe Niko might have some leads for us. Let's go."

----

Part 2

[sevri-7]

You’re coming back (and it’s the end of the world)

‘Who are you?’

The question has been on the tip of his tongue since they had gotten to what could barely be called safety. The president had left them to find the rest of the detective agency, whatever was left of them that was.

The blurred faces of Kunikida-san, Tanizaki-san, and Kenji-kun flash through his mind. He no longer has the energy to will the images out of him mind so he lets them stay, he lets them ferment, and stew, and rot in his mind.

They had died, in front of him, they had died and he did nothing about it.

“You, and you alone could have protected your allies…their blood is on your hands” Dostoevsky’s sinister smile and cutting words branded into his skin. It still burns.

Atsushi wills himself out of his mind in favour of observing his not so dead partner. He had been stabbed through the chest by Dostoevsky in a show of power. In that moment, Atsushi was sure he had just watched Akutagawa die again, and again he could do nothing but watch as he stilled and fell to the ground. If he had been more observant he might have noticed that no blood pooled beneath Akutagawa’s unmoving body. If he wasn’t so pathetic he might have chased after Dostoevsky. If he wasn’t so consumed by his emotions he would have done something, Anything! Instead he stood still, choked by fear.

The president saved them and led them away from the remnants of the battle, if you could even call it that.

And now he sits here, in the dying daylight, with a stranger that looks like Akutagawa.

He doesn’t know why his chest hurts looking at his still body. He’s not dead, truly and miraculously, the hole that was stabbed through his chest has healed almost completely. Atsushi’s hand snakes up to his own healed stab wound and wonders why it felt so familiar. Yet something in him continues to strain as he looks at Akutagawa.

He still doesn’t know why…

He was different. Anyone with a pair of eyes and a partially functioning brain could tell something was off about this Akutagawa. He moved differently, with grace and fluidity so foreign to the precision and desperation he had been on the receiving end of more times than he could remember. He held weapons made out of his ability as if they were old friends, and wielded them like he’s fought a thousand battles with them. He was even dressed differently, long gone was his blood stained coat,

(Akutagawa’s parting gift to him, still soaked with both their blood was left with Ango-san for what?

He still doesn’t know why…)

replaced with black armour so dark it ate all light that would have made it shine. Then there were his eyes…something about them made him ache in a way he’s only get once before.

“You damn fool…hurry up and go”

It was gone. The fire, the desperation, the anger, the spite…it was all gone. The calmness he had seen, the strength he had perceived, he was wrong, so, so wrong.

As the fight raged on he had realized all too slowly that those eyes did not belong to Akutagawa.

Those weapons did not belong to Akutagawa.

Those movement did not belong to Akutagawa.

He. Was not. Akutagawa.

‘Who are you?’

Atsushi’s heart continued to ache.

He still doesn’t know why…

Atsushi’s had tentatively reached out towards Akutagawa’s healing wound. He internally reprimands himself, this is Akutagawa he’s reaching out for, knowing him he’ll wake up before he could check the wound to see if it’s healing properly, he would sit up, bare the pain in his chest and call him a fool, and a bastard, and insist that he doesn’t need his help.

And everything will be back to normal…

And they’ll defat Dostoevsky…

and get the page…

And bring everyone back…

And everything will be back to normal…

The rot stains his finger tips as his hand reaches Akutagawa’s chest. The wound is full closed and the scar is well on its way to fading. His finger gently trace the scar down till it tapers off, he pulls his hand back quickly as if he’d been burned. Atsushi watched Akutagawa’s body breathe, inhale. Exhale. Akutagawa’s eyes didn’t open, Akutagawa’s body didn’t sit up.

His mouth didn’t open to call him a fool, or a bastard, or to tell him he didn’t need his help. Akutagawa’s body stayed lying perfectly still, and Akutagawa was no where to be found.

The rot travels down his throat.

The world is quiet. Dead quiet. The lack of sound is deafening, the lack of everything blankets the collapsed structure they were hiding in. The sun had set leaving them in pure darkness. Despite this Atsushi’s eyes stay trained on Akutagawa’s face. His rotting hands reach out once more to touch Akutagawa’s porcelain skin. His touch is feather light as he traced his thumb over Akutagawa’s cheek. His skin was dry and fragile, like it would crack if he pressed too hard. He could hear Akutagawa threatening to chop off his hand for daring to touch him when he’s vulnerable. He could feel Akutagawa’s anger as his hand moved to his hair. He bathes in Akutagawa’s scalding remarks and not so empty threats. He takes comfort in the presence of someone who isn’t there.

Atsushi’s never been one for physical contact, neither of them had been, but in this quiet, empty moment, Atsushi held Akutagawa’s hand.

They had stayed like that, together and apart, lost and found, disturbed and undisturbed, for a long time.

Then he woke up.

His cold confident eyes bore into his. His armour shifted as he moved to sit up. He said nothing, and neither did Atsushi.

Atsushi ached as the rot spread through his body and seeped into every crack and crevice it could find. It sunk deeper and deeper until it dyed his bones dried blood brown. The rot continued its crawl deeming his body its home. It has taken everything from him and it’s making its way to his heart, but something is slowing it down and screeching it to a halt.

His hand is warm.

His eyes leave Atsushi’s and slowly trace their surroundings. They make their way around the room and lock back on Atsushi.

When they meet again there is no spark of recognition, no disgust at their contact, not even a snide comment. Just three simple words.

“Who are you?”

He asked as if it was an innocent question.

And Atsushi ached.

And he still didn’t know why…he keeps lying to himself…

And suddenly the hand he was holding was no longer Akutagawa’s, and his hand was cold.

The rot made quick work of his heart after that. Yet his hand stayed in his hand, holding on to someone who wasn’t there, reaching for a hand that didn’t belong to the one he loved.

He wanted to say a million things to him, Whoever he was. He wanted to say a hundred million things to Akutagawa, wherever he was.

‘Who are you?’

‘Where’s Akutagawa’

‘Why don’t you remember me?’

‘Are you Akutagawa?’

‘What’s wrong with you?’

‘Why did you save me?’

‘Why are you here?’

‘What happened to you?’

‘I love you’

Instead he choked out the only thing he could.

“My name is Atsushi” and he smiled as he felt is heart give in.

[iamanartichoke]

I don't know who needs to hear this, but as a creator -

I am fine with "the audience" -

downloading my fics

printing my fics

copy/pasting or screenshotting my fics

sharing your saved copy of my fics with anyone else who might want them in the unlikely but never impossible case that my fics are no longer available on ao3

making a book of my fic(s) and running your fingers across the pages while lovingly whispering my precioussss

doing these things with anything I create for fandom, such as meta, headcanons, au nonsense like 'texts from the brodinsons,' etc

I am not fine with "the audience"

doing any of the above with the purpose/intent of plagiarizing my work or passing it off as their own in any capacity

feeding my work into ai for any reason whatsoever

Save the fandom things. Preserve the fandom things. Respect the fandom things.

Enjoy the fandom things.

[heph]

The fics where the ducklings are heavily invested in their boss' love life

[licorishh]

no way she's alive ?? yea those mental health breaks because social media makes people suck are wild huh

[catsushinyakajima]

the man who can’t be moved

[savanir]

DP x DC ficlet

is it even a ficlet anymore, this thing has gotten incredibly out of hand...

So a while back I saw this

and I picked the Green Lantern one and then just kinda wrote a full fic so...

It had been a good party, official yes but despite that still festive enough and with just a bittersweet hint. as all good meaningful parties should be like, unless you’re looking to get absolutely shitfaced.

But hey Rowan deserved a proper sendoff for making it to this point and not dying in the process. Hal is going to miss the old pilot though.

"Hal, I got something for you, before I forget"

"Hm, what is it"

The old man puts a small intricate glass model of a f16 fighter in his hand.

"Back when I started I was given this for good luck and protection"

Rowan presses it down firmly and stands there all official like "may it grant you both as it did for me"

They both stand there for a second before laughing.

“Feel free to shelf the whole luck thing, what’s really important is skill and experience. Still, knowing you, you can definitely use the protection ”

Hal grins, "Thanks, I'll keep close"

"You better, the sentimental value is sky high" Rowan slaps his shoulder with another laugh.

Good lord what a dork.

The old retiring pilot wasn't paying attention, too caught up in everything else but Hal saw the faint and brief green hue coming from his hand.

In a panic he slammed his other hand over top. Completely missing the quietly whispered "protect"

Too busy cussing out his ring in his head, he swears that thing is trying to out him on purpose sometimes.

This time it wasn't the ring though, so it's a good thing it's an inanimate object and can't be upset at how wrong Hal is being right now.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah! Let's get back to the others"

The evening ends uneventfully.

---

It's really only until quite a bit later that things start to happen.

"Green lantern" its batman's business voice.

Both Hal and John look up.

"Jordan" ah shit.

"I'll catch you up later" and he leaves Hal behind, traitor.

"What's up spooky"

"You need to update your file, it is missing critical information, and on that note I wasn’t aware that the lantern suits grant you intangibility now"

"I... what..? It doesn't? What are you talking about spooks"

"Hrn" Batman pulls up a screen and shows him footage of the latest fight, in it you can clearly see something was supposed to hit Hal but went right through him "You're telling me you didn't know or notice this?"

Hal just looks kinda sick. That would have been a bad hit and he just straight up didn't even notice.

Batman just kind of silently looks at him and he must have come to some conclusion because the next thing Hal knows this comes out of his mouth.

"I've already ran your blood through the lab, it's not a sudden emergence of a meta gene so it's either from the lantern corps or you've otherwise externally been affected by something that's causing this"

Hal closes his eyes and internally counts to ten, it doesn't help.

Batman takes his silence to mean he can keep talking. The man is on an unusual roll. Hal would have been ecstatic if he didn't hate the topic quite so much.

"It would have been best if it had something to do with your ring however you seem to be completely unaware and I've also noted that the green of your ring and the green glow that comes with the density shifting are different"

He has examples with corresponding color codes, Hal is so tired.

“let's set a time frame…” Batman pulls up some documents and graph on the screen “seeing as you are unaware of this development I will set the starting point of this potential change as of now to right after the last time you have been known to be hit in a fight and before the first known instance of you being able to density shift, that leaves us with a full month.”

Hal really, really does not want to be here anymore.

“In this month you have not gone off planet so whatever caused this is on Earth” Batman pauses for a moment, “has anything significant happened during that time that springs to mind now?”

“no, nothing significant has happened during that time, frankly it’s been a very pleasant uneventful four weeks in which I finally managed to catch a break and it figures something crazy has apparently happened anyway”

Hal rubs his face with both hands, “but right now I couldn’t tell you what, anyway, does this have to be a bad thing? I for one am very glad that hit didn’t actually land”

“So far only Superman has had the privilege of having sudden emergence of new powers work out for him” Batman huffs, “it would be best to monitor this carefully, if anything springs to mind do not hesitate to inform me, the sooner this is figured out the better”

“awww you do care” Hal is using humor cope, sadly it’s Batman, so it’s not very effective.

“Jordan” now Batman sounds tired, he’s not the one with random surprise density shifting, Hal understand that Spooky’s crippling chronic paranoia must be exhausting but right now he’s the one freaking out considering this is apparently not a meta gene related development, it would have been so much easier if it was, oh and about that, just how and when did Batman get his blood exactly? he would like to know now.

---

sadly he does not get to know now. or anytime soon (or ever). it’s chaos right after, because of course it is.

knocked out of the sky and lying amongst the rubble, if their enemy spots him he’s in bigger shit than he already is, but he can’t fucking move and the next thing he knows he’s invisible.

and there is just nothing enjoyable about it.

Barry doesn’t know that though, “that was something else, just one moment and schwup and you were just gone, some sort of green lantern light bending? he looked right through you, thank god he did too” 

shit shit, “no that was..." it was like he just ceased to exist, movies and books and whatever other media always depicts it as such a cool thing but frankly it was terrifying. And he would prefer things that are terrifying not to happen to him, for obvious reasons, “honestly actually it’s complicated, stealth tech” Grade A bullshit.

“well it’s awesome”

“it was useful just now but not really my style you know” 

Barry slings his arm over Hal’s shoulder and gives him a one armed hug, “everything worked out” Hal can feel some tension flow out of his friend, “well! better get busy cleaning this mess up” and with a blink he’s gone.

Hal does not want to talk about this with Batman, but knowing him, he probably already knows anyway, it would be less of a headache to go to him than have him go to Hal. 

Hal wants to enjoy whatever this is, he really does, but he doesn’t know what caused this, he doesn’t know what triggers the new abilities or whatever they are, he doesn’t know what effects this shit is going to have in the future, he just doesn’t know anything, normally he doesn’t mind not knowing some things, he’s fine leaving the knowing to the people better suited for the more complicated knowing, but he would very much like to know more about this please.

---

Then they face off against an enemy and in the process Hal drains his ring completely and the next hit is going to be bad, so what will happen? Will he somehow go intangible again? Turn invisible and use the confusion to evade and attack?

No

Apparently this time he just gets a glowing green dome shield. Something very normal for him to have and use, if only it came out of his ring that is.

Nobody notices that something is wrong, nobody besides Batman that is.

"That's three new abilities that only appear during life threatening situations"

Hal has actually seriously gone over that month by now, but nothing, no answers. He's physically fine, mentally a little damaged but nothing new there, they all are. Every test he begrudgingly went through answered nothing. He was fine. Whatever was going on actually had nothing to do with him.

And at the same time it had everything to do with him because this is only happening to him.

As usual (by now) he takes out his little glass fighter jet and runs his thumb over the wings. It is soothing strangely enough. Like a stim toy.

"The last thing to try is a thorough examination by someone from the justice league dark"

Hal groans, magic, ok then, "Alright let's get this over with. Who knows maybe I'm just haunted"

It turns out he’s not haunted, this is a good thing... supposedly, Well let’s just say that Hal would have not minded being haunted or something if that meant it could be fixed, or just explained.

It doesn’t really need to be fixed, whatever this is has been very helpful after all, but he would do basically anything for an explanation right about now.

“you are not haunted or otherwise magically compromised, but I do sense faint traces of energy from the infinite realms” Zatanna is a godsent, finally something to work with.

“from the who whats?” Hal is worried, the occult field is definitely not his area of expertise. He's a space cop, not a space demonhunter… oh that would be pretty cool though, with like a hood and twin cyber crossbows, maybe he should incorporate that somehow.

“the infinite realms… have you recently been in touch with any death related realities?”

Well there was that time when he got booted to the death universe and he died and then he was a black lantern but he got better, that’s all very much very behind him.

She better not be about to tell him that stuff still has lingering consequences.

oh god dammit that’s exactly what is going on isn’t it?

"How recently?"

"In the past week?"

"Oh, no" Hal would have known if that was the case, death stuff tends to be hard to ignore.

Zatanna frowns, that's probably not a good sign.

"But you said I'm not compromised right?" Right now what Hal wants to know the most is if this is changing him. Cause it tends to be bad for him when that's the case.

"No this is just lingering traces of something or someone else using their powers near you"

???!!??!?

"What are the infinite realms?" oh hey there Batman, was wondering when you would show up again.

"It's the afterlife, or... more like a collection of all afterlives. The infinite realms is very literal in their naming. It is home to powerful dead entities. As a general rule magic users are discouraged from interacting with it.

"Hrn"

"What did you say happened to you so far Hal?"

"Uhm, density shifting, invisibility and then a green dome-like shield, a lot like my own energy constructs"

"that sounds like pretty standard stuff for a realms being"

"Soooo what, did one leave the afterlife and decide to follow me around or something?"

"I cannot conclusively say, I can only say that you've been close to one using its abilities"

Batman folds his arms over his chest, "We shouldn’t form theories on these findings alone, Zatanna are these realm beings dangerous?"

"Hard to say, they come in all manner of forms, some small and harmless and others on the level of world destroying gods."

Great great great, awesome, well it’s probably safe to say that whatever decided to stick around Hal isn’t small and harmless, cause small and harmless doesn’t sound strong enough to casually turn him intangible or invisible… he could be wrong though.

“I do advise caution, beings from the infinite realms also have the ability to possess someone, they call it overshadowing”

Batman’s lips thin and Hal tenses up, mind control of any kind is always awful.

“I’ll place a ward on you, as a precaution” energy starts to gather in her hands.

Batman moves for the door, “we might need to look into a way to force this being to reveal itself, it would be best if we could convince it to return to their realm”

“Well I mean-” Hal starts, “like I get that, but they have been a great help so far” 

“they are a security risk”

“I’m just saying, I am grateful that they kept me from being confined to the medical wing for who even knows how long, who knows they might just be shy, wouldn’t it be better to convince them to become our ally, like Deadman. instead of telling them to leave. just cause we don’t understand how they work yet doesn’t mean they are bad and should be booted out of our reality”

Batman narrows his eyes at Hal and turns to Zatanna who is finished with placing the ward on Hal, “Zatanna please send me all you have on the infinite realms, I will do my own research” and with that he sweeps out of the room, very dramatic.

“Ass” Hal whispers under his breath.

“He’s worried”

“well he’s being a dick about it, as usual” Hal’s fingers find his little plane once again “... hey do you think they could communicate through one of those oejah boards?”

Zatanna snorts, “it’s Ouija- and please don’t”

---

No information from the JLD has been useful so far in coaxing the realms being to reveal themselves and for the most part things just go on as usual.

“Whoever they are, they followed me when I went off planet and it might just be my imagination but I had a feeling that their stuff was a lot more… potent? out there? I don’t know it was kinda strange, it just felt stronger”

“but they didn’t reveal themselves to you?”

“nope, they must know that I know now too, so they have decided to just… go on as they always have I guess”

“hrn” Batman is leafing through files, because of this whole mess he’s uncovered hidden government organizations targeting occult entities as well as inhumane laws that stand directly opposed to the meta protection acts.

Why is he working with paper regarding this matter? Well it turns out there is a infinite realms being that can possess electronica and it was only because of the protections the JLD had put in place on the Watchtower that the entity didn’t overtake it in its entirety.

Watching Constantine freak out had been mildly entertaining but Zatanna had once again reminded Batman to be very careful, Batman had begrudgingly admitted he had made a slight misstep while digging for answers… in his head, not out loud, god forbid.

“this whole thing is turning out a lot bigger than we thought huh, good thing we are dealing with it now” Hal stretches his arms above his head, “anyway I am going to go grab something to eat”

“the rapport-” Batman doesn’t bother looking at him.

“yeah yeah” Hal doesn’t either while walking out of the room, dismissively flicking his hand, “don’t worry about it spooky”

Hal takes his little plane out on the way to the cafeteria and fiddles with it in his hand, once there he puts it on the table next to Barry before getting himself something to eat.

They catch up, Hal complains (bitches) about Batman, others come and go, Zatanna quickly checks up on the ward she placed which makes Barry raise an eyebrow at Hal, “Ghost protection”

“... no such thing”

Zatanna glares.

Hal can see them both gearing up to start the magic is just science we haven’t fully scienced out yet argument again, “alright! I’m full” he stands up, “if you need me I’ll be writing that rapport, later” and gets the hell out of there.

It’s when he has just reached his preferred spot to work on the boring paperwork stuff when the alarms go off throughout what he can only imagine must probably be the entire Watchtower.

It seems like something triggered all of the JLD’s defenses in one go.

Impressive, but also very worrying.

The rapport is going to have to wait.

People are gathering in the meeting room and Batman is already taking the lead, “status”

“as of a couple minutes ago there was a build up of as of yet unknown energy which then burst in the cafeteria knocking out Flash” Martian Manhunter says, “Zatanna says we are most likely dealing with another being from the infinite realms”

Superman groans, this means he’s out.

It’s a good thing they now have defenses against overshadowing though. Being effectively trapped in a space station (because currently the thing is on lockdown) where literally anyone could suddenly actually be the enemy is the kind of situation a whole slew of horror movies like to be about.

“We will need to be extremely careful while finding and then dealing with this entity”

It has certainly been quite some time since the Watchtower got directly hit like this.

Hal pulls out his little plane.

or, he would, if he still had it.

thoroughly distracted now he suddenly realizes it’s no longer on his person.

Spooky is probably not going to like it if during the infinite realms attacker hunt he takes the opportunity to look around for his missing little fighter jet.

well what he doesn’t know won’t harm him.

His plan of looking for the plane while looking for the ghost is working out well enough.

In fact it is working out so good that he finds both at the same time.

At that point Hal had started wondering if maybe Barry had picked it up for him at the cafeteria before the attack happened and that the little thing was now in the medical wing with him. 

That turned out to clearly not be the case once he found the tiny thing glowing green and floating in the middle of the hallway.

“alright ghosty, that’s really important to me and I would like it back undamaged”

the tiny plane turned to now point directly at him, hmm, yeah that's not creepy at all.

 “... please don’t launch yourself at me” he foolishly says which of course means that’s exactly what it does next.

He uses his ring to construct a net with a pillow inside to catch the tiny jet, completely forgetting that it’s overshadowed and can thus easily just go intangible and right through his creations.

Instead it hits him square in the chest, rather painfully he might add and then just stops glowing and drops, making Hal scramble to not have it fall and shatter in a million tiny pieces on the ground.

immediately all the sensors stop detecting the presence of a realms being and the alarms die down.

Whatever was in the Watchtower has left the building.

or…

Hal looks down at the tiny plane in his hands, his talisman of protection and has a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Hey there little guy, might want to explain yourself?” he says to the tiny jet.

It vibrates in his hands.

“... yeah I figured, shit”

---

“I say just smash the bloody thing and be done with it, preferably that takes care of it once and for all” Constantine glares down at the tiny jet.

Hal is almost halfway over the table to shield the little thing, covering it from Constantine’s sight with his hand, “don’t you dare” he growls.

“it would be best for everyone involved, for all we known you could have gone full liminal what with how long you’ve been carrying the blasted thing around”

Zatanna is going over the little thing with her own magic, “it’s trapped”

“In that case just straight up trying to murder it would be the worst thing to do” Hal glares at Constantine some more. Who clearly doesn’t give a shit, figures, all stressed out about dealing with things from the infinite realms but whenever he feels he has the upper hand he’s more than happy to go full nuclear.

“it would be best if we had a way of figuring out their intentions” Batman looks down at the tiny jet impassively.

“Well, another reason to just carefully release this creature instead” Hal responds.

Zatanna’s magic fades away, “I would say that the fact it’s been protecting Hal for as long as he has it is a positive sign”

“hrn, but now it has gone and knocked Flash out, so what does that say” Batman huffs, “it’s too risky”

“Constantine and I will set up everything we can so it won’t be able to escape or try anything dangerous” Zatanna stops looking at Batman and turns back to the tiny plane, “if it turns out to be malicious we could simply banish it back to the realms, killing it would be rather stupid, we do not know what kind of connections it might have within the realms, we might accidentally anger something far worse with such a rash act”

Constantine groans but accepts Zatanna’s reasoning, Batman nods as well.

It’s only then that Hal moves out of the way.

Any plans of attack or banishment fly right out of the window once the two magic users are done and a young boy manifests from the tiny fighter jet.

Hal pushes Constantine aside to get to the boy’s side.

“Jordan, are you insane! Get back here!” 

“Hey, kid, can you hear me? please open your eyes, slowly, take your time” 

Batman has also moved forward much to Constantine’s frustration. Don't these two morons get that their protections won’t do shit if you just casually stroll into the circle?

Batman is mostly concerned in being able to step in should the boy prove to be a hostile entity anyway, but at the same time… well, that’s a child.

The boy kind of dazedly opens his eyes, looks at Hal and then seems to become aware of his own arms and hands, after opening and closing those a couple times he looks back at Hal and lets out a breath that can only be described as relieved and promptly passes out into him.

Well, Hal figures that settles it then. He doesn’t know shit about looking after a kid, and definitely not one who is probably quite dead, but this one is his, back off Batman.

they all startle rather violently when rings of blinding white light pass over the boy and suddenly the kid in Hal’s arms is a bit warmer and seems to have a sluggish pulse and also his clothes are different and his hair is now black and-

Hal is up and moving towards the medical wing before his mind catches back up with him. He can hear Batman behind him, it seems like Constantine and Zatanna aren’t moving after him as fast.

Well anyway his life is already so goddamn weird, this might as well happen.

[magicalrocketships]

Rivers of Light || part 7 ||

(reminder that this in its entirety contains mpreg, reference to giving birth, Max Verstappen's bad dad, past abuse, and on-track accidents.)

All previous parts can be found in the masterpost here.

Max hasn't been scared before. Not really, not like this. But he's been scared without pause since he found out he was pregnant. It's exhausting. It's terrifying. And Max doesn't know how to make it stop.

Part 7

Bastiaan cries all the way from Viry-Châtillon to the hotel Daniel's booked for them. He's tired and cranky and hates his car seat and wants to be home where it's familiar and quiet and is just him and Max.

Max understands. He feels the same. He's overwhelmed and exhausted too. He hasn't slept through the night since before Bastiaan was born; every moment he's had with his baby he's had to figure out by himself. He doesn't have anyone else. He strokes Bastiaan's forehead and cheek with his thumb. It soothes him some of the time. His daddy's touch.

It doesn't work this time. Nothing's going to soothe him but being out of the car seat. Or sleeping.

"It's okay, little baby," Max tells him. "I know everything's been different. I know you want to be at home. Everything is new, and you like the things you know. You're being very brave, but I know you've had enough." Max has had enough too. He feels like when a cup's too full and the water tips over the top and onto the table. He's got nowhere to put anything new. He doesn't know how to fix it.

"It won't be long," Daniel says. "Less than five minutes."

Max looks up. Daniel's looking at him in the rear view mirror as they wait at traffic lights. Max can't hide his exhaustion. His elation at having a chance. His fear that it won't work out. Max hasn't been scared before. Not really, not like this. But he's been scared without pause since he found out he was pregnant. It's exhausting. It's terrifying. And Max doesn't know how to make it stop.

"Not long now, Bastiaan," Daniel says.

Max doesn't cry, but it doesn't stop him wanting to.

&&&

Max doesn't go to the check-in desk with Daniel. There's a queue, so Max takes the pushchair over to the sofas in the corner instead and concentrates on taking a sad, frowny Bastiaan out of his car seat. It's not good for a baby as little as Bastiaan to be so much in his seat but this trip is an exception and not the rule.

"There we are," Max tells Bastiaan softly, kissing the top of his head. "Is that better, my baby?"

Bastiaan rubs his cheek over Max's t-shirt. He likes it best when Max isn't wearing a t-shirt at all, never mind the compression vest that's hurting Max underneath it. Max shushes him, giving him a little slow rock to settle him.

When Daniel comes over, he's pink-cheeked. "I fucked up." He glances at Bastiaan. "Sorry for swearing."

Max shakes his head. "He's a baby, he is barely holding his head up. He can hear a bad word and not be saying it just yet."

"I thought I was booking you a family room and keeping my room, but my French is apparently pretty merde because they thought I was amending my own room booking instead. And they're full up unless someone doesn't check in for this security conference and cancels at the last minute. Which so far they haven't."

"I was going to stay in the airport anyway," Max says. He squares his shoulders. "You can just drop us there instead."

"No," Daniel says, making a face. "Don't be an idiot. We're just going to have to share the family room instead. The guy behind the counter was doing some pretty ineffective miming but I think there's a roll out bed."

"Oh," Max says. "Okay."

"Unless you don't want to," Daniel says quickly, "and if so, I'll be the one to go and find another room. They said they'd call if anyone cancelled anyway."

"The baby will keep you awake," Max says. "He doesn't like to sleep through the night."

"Ehh," Daniel says. "Neither do I. We can be insomniac buddies." He grins and it might not look exactly like the grins Max has carefully catalogued through years of long distance devotion but it's close enough that Max might be mistaken. It has been a while since he'd seen Daniel. Since Daniel had not contacted him after the crash.

"Okay," Max says. "Let's go." He has his rucksack and the changing bag and his suitcase and the pushchair. Daniel has a scuff-free leather hold-all with his initials embossed and the backpack he'd brought onto the plane. He takes Max's suitcase and manages to manoeuvre both it and the pushchair one-handed towards the lifts. Max is left following with Bastiaan, his little quiet baby with his little tear-stained face. Max kisses him. He is loved. He's so loved. Max is going to make sure he always knows it.

&&&

The room is nice but not as big as Max secretly wants. There's a large bed, a smaller twin bed over by the window, and a space where a crib would go if there was one. Which there isn't.

Max lets out a breath. He lays Bastiaan down in the middle of the bed. Bastiaan doesn't have many toys, because Max doesn't have anyone to give him any, and because Max has barely been anywhere since he was born, and before that, hadn't thought about buying anything but the barest practicalities. There's a soft rattle shaped like a lamb, and a toy giraffe. Both of them came from Celine, when she'd texted him to find out how he was doing, and he'd texted back to say that he was in hospital and Bastiaan was seven hours old. She'd closed the cafe after lunch, driven to the hospital, and delivered Max a baby blanket, the giraffe, and the rattle. She'd hugged him, held Bastiaan, and come back the following morning to drive them both home. She was the one who'd shown Max how to bath Bastiaan in the sink, how to test the water temperature and hold him and gently bathe him. Max needs to do better. The only person Bastiaan has is Max.

He gets out the giraffe and the rattle from his backpack. Bastiaan closes his little hand around the giraffe's neck. He wriggles his legs. His eyes track Max as Max moves, as he stands up to put his bag down.

"I forgot to buy baby wipes," Max says. "I'm running out." He's tired. "Can you look up if there's a shop near?"

"I'll do one better," Daniel says. He's thumbing through his phone. "I've got to go to the shop myself. Need a couple of things. I'll sort out somewhere for the baby to sleep as well." He shows Max a picture of baby wipes. "Are these okay?"

Max doesn't know enough to have a preference. "If they are for babies," he says. He sits down on the bed next to his baby. Bastiaan's still wriggling. His little hands move. His toes are curling and stretching out in his little socks. "I can go myself."

"Or," Daniel says, "I can go and give you a break from my company. You and Bastiaan can hang out. Do you need nappies or anything?"

"We're probably okay," Max says. He doesn't think about the emptying box at home. It'll be fine. He'll sign whatever contract Cyril gives him so long as it means he doesn't have to start worrying about anything for Bastiaan.

"You want me to bring you some Red Bull or something?"

Max shakes his head. His dad had made him go cold turkey on Red Bull after he was fired, and it wasn't like Max had been mobile enough at the time to go and find an alternative. Now he's supposed to be limiting his caffeine intake because he's feeding Bastiaan, so if he'll have anything it probably won't be an energy drink. "I'm okay," he says. "Thank you."

"Okay," Daniel says. Then, "Fuck, I don't have your number. You've changed it, right? Either that or you've blocked me."

Max looks at him. "I haven't blocked you."

"Well then," Daniel says. "I'm going to need your number. To call. If there are decisions to be made about baby wipes." He holds his phone out for Max to take. It's open at Max's contact page, and Max's number is there, the one he had before. The one that belongs to a sim card Max destroyed with a pair of pliers in the corner of a car park a couple of hours after running away from his dad's place. He'd wiped his phone and his laptop before leaving. Had to create a new Apple ID because his dad tracked his location via his old one. Traded in his car for another one in a deal that only benefited the car salesman and not Max. He'd registered the car to his mum's address even though he hadn't seen her since before he left Formula 1. He hadn't had anywhere else to put down.

For nine months, Max has kept his location a secret from his dad. And now he's just shown up at Renault and asked for a job. If it works out, his dad's going to know exactly where Max and his baby are.

Max lets out a breath. He types his telephone number into Daniel's phone and saves his contact record. "There," he says. "My number."

"Great," Daniel says. "Lemme give you a missed call so you've got mine." He does finger guns at Max after Max's phone starts to buzz. "Can't get rid of me now, bud."

Max thinks back to after the accident. His concussion. His dad looking through Max's phone. Reading out his messages to him because Max couldn't look at a screen for weeks. Daniel hadn't called. Hadn't texted. Hadn’t got in touch.

It wasn't Max who'd got rid of Daniel. It had been the other way around.

"I've got a couple of things to get," Daniel says, "so don't miss me too hard. I'll be back in time to take us to Cyril's, promise."

"Okay, Daniel," Max says. He unlaces his shoes and takes them off. He gets on the bed next to Bastiaan, curling around him like a protective letter C. "Hello, my baby. Are you playing with your toys?"

Bastiaan replies by bringing his fist up to his mouth. He starts to suck on it, his little sign that he's hungry. Max kisses his soft hair.

When he looks up, Daniel's still there. He's watching them both. He looks almost sad.

"I'll see you," Daniel says.

"Yeah," Max says. He waits until the door's closed after him, until Daniel's footsteps have padded away down the hallway.

Max sits up, pulls his t-shirt over his head, unzips his compression top, and lets out a breath. His tits hurt. There are harsh red lines pressed into Max's skin. He wants to be at home where he doesn't have to wear it. He picks his baby up. Bastiaan's already rooting for him.

"My hungry baby," Max says. For a second, Max's eyes blur with tears, but this isn't him. He's not a crier. He's stronger than that. Better than that. He's been bred not to cry.

Bastiaan latches on. It's sore. Max looks down at him. Strokes his hair. His cheek. Lets Bastiaan hold onto his thumb.

"It's just the two of us, hey?" Max says. "Me and you, my little baby. Me and you."

He scrubs away his tears with the back of his hand, and Bastiaan holds on.

[milkcartondoodle]

Happy uh late jalloween

[erinwantstowrite]

Have you thought of doing a funny Stan Lee cameo in LOF in the DC universe like Peter?

i haven't but that's because i hadn't even thought TO do it,,, now i have to because holy shit that'd be funny

[shieldofiron]

Learning and listening

[dustykneed]

everyone knows that if you bring your best friend along on a date with your bf, either your best friend of your bf will end up being third wheeled-- unless you're jim t kirk and you manage to third wheel for your first officer (who is in fact your boyfriend) and your cmo best friend.

no i have not watched bread and circuses yet but i feel in my heart that this applies. and also objectively the bread and circuses outfits are so insanely mind-blowingly attractive?? i needed an excuse to draw them in tight-fitting shirts and i regret nothing 😎

you just know that whenever the pre-mcspirk triumvirate hangs out whoever did the inviting will inevitably end up being the third wheel. like jim invites spock over to play chess and brings bones along to spectate and commentate and IMMEDIATELY spones joins forces to beat his ass (bickering and sassing each other all the while. and by the end bones is basically halfway on spock's lap smug as hell with spock leaning back a little just to accommodate him, a hand ghosting his waist to keep him from losing his balance.) And they beat jim's ass so soundly it would almost be embarrassing if he hadn't been preoccupied with committing the way spock and bones fit so well together to memory.

or spock will ask jim and bones over for dinner, and somehow while he's turned his back for a minute replicating their meals mckirk will have gotten into a playful argument about the worst terran movie and spock watches this eventually escalate into a mock tussle on the couch (and then onto the floor, where jim solidly pins bones (who is voicing his complaints very loudly) to the carpet and sort of pets at him until he goes pliant and giggly. and spock keeps watching because he can't bring himself to look away from how jim's biceps and triceps flex with the exertion of keeping a flailing bones still, and the way bones' shirt has rucked up with his wriggling and is now exposing his midriff in a decidedly... agreeable manner. And now their dinner is getting cold but spock is very much not. the opposite, in fact.

for bones though, generally he has the opposite problem-- whenever he tries to corner jim for a physical, it's guaranteed that spock will show up with him and stand next to his bed and all but hold jim's hand in front of the entire medbay and (with infuriating accuracy and highly amusing, transparent urgency) hand bones the instruments he needs before he even reaches for them, hovering by jim's side all the while. and jim is also TERRIBLE about not physically attaching himself to spock and actually letting bones do his goddamn job when spock gets hurt. if he wasn't so fond of them both, he swears he would've kicked them out of his medbay ages ago. Too bad they've both wormed their way solidly into his heart.

...

prompt fill for @mcspirkevents' mcspirk month day 26 "expectations vs reality" (i know this isn't spicy but by god spirk's mouths are actually touching and given my track record of not being able to draw people kissing properly it might as well be, lol) 🩵💙💛

[st2r-b0y]

Fucking perverts

They gotta die

Doing god’s work (I’m not getting into heaven guys </3)

I think I’m losing it but yk we’re having fun

[simplepotatofarmer]

handmade warmth

for the @sixteenth-day-event

The cold made Dream’s leg hurt. He rubbed a hand over his residual limb, massaging the scarred flesh and the muscle remained. It was a phantom pain and it annoyed him, that unwanted reminder of what had happened in the prison. He had told Techno that if it was in his mind then he should be able to control it and Techno hadn’t laughed but had given him an oddly tight smile and said he wasn’t sure it worked like that. Leaning forward, Dream held his hands out to the fire. It was low now, as the evening had dragged into night, and that was letting in the chill that caused the aching in his joints.

He thought about calling for Techno, who had disappeared upstairs for something he promised was important, to add another log. He could do it himself on a good day but he was tired and the muscle spasm in his leg when he had moved still hadn’t faded. Some rational part of his mind said it had been barely over a month since he had escaped the prison and it made sense he wasn’t up to much yet. Dream had been studiously ignoring it.

The metal poker was just within reach if Dream tipped the chair over just a little.

“If you fall, I am gonna laugh at you,” came Techno’s voice from behind him.

The chair dropped back to floor with a thud and Dream turned around with the best scowl he could manage, cheeks red and hot.

“I’m not—Shut up, Techno, you’re—you’re the one who left me here for, like, three hours,” said Dream, eyes flicking to the window as he tried to judge how much time had passed. The snow outside, tinted purple by the beacons, made it difficult.

“Bruh, it was not three hours.”

Dream rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, sinking into the chair.

“It felt like three hours.” Dream glanced down. “What’s that?”

The ‘that’ in question was a large package that was tucked under Techno’s arm. It was wrapped in paper decorated with snowflakes and holly and it was lumpy. The bow that had been carefully tied around it was crushed a little. Techno held it out and patted one hand against it.

“It’s a present, Dream,” he said, crossing the room to stand in front of Dream. He set in his lap. “Merry Christmas, man.”

Blinking a couple times, Dream ran his hand over the package and then frowned.

“It’s not even Christmas.”

Techno glanced at the fireplace then reached for a log. He carefully placed it on top, the flames licking at his fingers, and if it burnt, he didn’t seem to notice. Pulling his rocking chair a little bit forward, he sat.

“Eh, it’s Christmas Eve. Close enough.” Techno shrugged. “Beside, that’s as much for me as it is for you. Go on, open it, man.”

In the fireplace, the flames licked up the new log. Dream’s frown deepened. There were half a dozen protests he could make – that Christmas Eve still wasn’t Christmas, that he hadn’t gotten anything for Techno – but he began to carefully tear open the paper.

“Whatever,” he muttered. The embarrassed blush was still on his face.

Once the paper was removed, it took Dream a moment to figure out what it was. He ran his fingers over the soft fabric, a patchwork of different patterns and colors. Flowers and swirls and geometric shapes. Greens and blues and spots of reds. Dream unfolded the quilt partially. The back was three large blocks of fabric, all shades of dark navy that reminded Dream of the night sky in the arctic. He looked up. Techno was watching with a satisfied expression, mouth curved into a smile, tusks glinting in the firelight.

“What d’you think? Now you can finally stop hoggin’ my blanket,” said Techno.

Dream pulled the quilt further into his lap, letting it spill down across his legs. It was thicker than he had first realized. The weight on his lap was surprisingly comforting. It was warm. The mismatch of colors was pretty and Dream knew it’d be prettier once it was spread out. He loved it.

He said, “Heh. Hogging.”

In the chair across from him, Techno groaned and slapped a hand to his face in an over-exaggerated manner that was mostly to hide the grin. He got to his feet.

“Alright, that’s it. I’m takin’ it back, you’re outta here.”

Those words would’ve once caused a flutter of panic in Dream’s chest, would’ve birthed a snarky comment about wanting to leave, but Techno didn’t mean it. He knew that. Dream tugged the quilt up to his chest.

“No, fuck off, Techno. You made it for me, it’s mine.”

Laughing, Techno bent and tucked the blanket up around Dream’s shoulders.

“Yeah, you got me there, man,” he said. “I’m guessin’ you like it, then.”

The phantom pain had subsided. Dream shifted in the chair and rubbed his chin against the soft fabric of the quilt. A smile slowly worked its way across his face.

“Yeah.” A beat. “Thanks, Techno.”

[my-world-my-stories]

Aftermath cuddles with a giant, buff alien lady that just became your GF. Is there anything better?

Also, a lovely bracelet Wy'ld made for Cat as a mating gift (As seen in Chapter 15). Space hunters need hobbies too.