#tv crossover

[artificialqueens]

🏳️‍🌈 The Miracle of Living Pt.1 (Bianca Del Rio/BenDeLaCreme ig??) - Lita 

In this world we're just beginning  To understand the miracle of living

Hello everyone! Welcoe to the long-awaited prequel to the Bitney San Junipero AU that I technically started writing five years ago (???) but recently decided to try and breathe new life into and complete. In theory this can stand alone as its own story with a few vague references to Black Mirror future tech sprinkled in, but it's really just setup to the main fic that kind of got away from me. The story has gotten a complete overhaul, so if anyone from Ye Olden Days remembers it - please do stick around and read this new version, I promise it's better. 

Massive thank you to @veronicasanders for giving me the kick up the ass required to get this story back off the ground, throwing her ideas at me, and being my Google when it comes to divorce court and the American college system. Love you mom - I hope this story is everything you'd dreamed of <3

Summary: Bianca is twenty-one, flunking college, and - thanks to a night of drunk bad decision-making - she's pregnant with her gay best friend's baby. 

Los Angeles, California

 January 17th, 2022

“BEN!” 

Bianca’s furious voice rings out through the small apartment. She’s sitting on the toilet with her pajama pants and underwear around her ankles, willing the second blue line to disappear. If anything, it’s getting darker. 

“Uh…yeah?” The reply comes from the other side of the bathroom door.  

“I thought you said you wore a fucking condom!”

“I did!” Ben protests. Then, meek and cautious: “...It might have split.” 

“It might have what?”

Two and a half months ago, Bianca and Ben had gone out drinking to commiserate the ends of their respective relationships - Ben had found out about his long-term boyfriend’s secret Grindr profile and dumped him, then Bianca’s longest-lasting FWB had called it quits with her less than a week later. When they got home, drunk and dumb and miserable, they’d started making out with each other on the couch - as a joke, just for something to do. And then, since they were shitfaced and apparently didn’t know any better, one ‘joke’ led to another, and they’d woken up naked in Ben’s bed. They had laughed it off the morning after, hunched at the kitchen table over alka-seltzer and black coffee - too much liquor, too many emotions. Shit happens. 

And then tonight, Bianca had mentioned offhand that she was incredibly overdue her period, and suggested going out to buy a test half as a joke. Ben had gone along with it a little too willingly, and he’d been overly-energised and super fucking weird on the walk to the drugstore. Really, Bianca should have known something was up when he detoured via the liquor store across the street, and came back with two bottles of tequila. 

“Ben, are you fucking kidding me?” Bianca says through her teeth. 

“I was gonna tell you,” Ben replies, sounding flustered. “Is the door locked? Can I come in?”

Bianca wants to say no, but it was Ben’s curiosity about her vagina that got them here in the first place, so who cares about whether or not he sees her now? She reaches over to turn the lock. Ben shuffles into the room in his leopard-print boxers and an oversized pajama shirt, and perches on the edge of the bathtub, looking at the floor. 

Part of Bianca wants to burst into tears - another part of her wants to scream until she throws up. Not now. Not fucking now - not like this. She’s twenty-one; Bianca doesn’t even know that she wants a goddamn kid at all, forget about one fathered by her gay best friend. 

“Look, I didn’t notice until after we were done. And I didn’t want to freak you out - I figured it would probably be nothing, and then there was never a good time, and then you told me you were late and I…” 

“You’re a faggot, we were hammered, we fucked because we thought it would be funny - if you knew that there was any chance whatsoever that you’d knocked me up, you should have fucking told me!” Bianca snarls through gritted teeth. 

Ben doesn’t say anything for a moment. He doesn’t really react either. He just sits there and looks at her; composed, taking it in. 

Bianca met Ben at a theater summer camp when they were sixteen. Ben had just moved from Seattle; he was about to start junior year at the private school across town. They led fundamentally different lives - Bianca had found herself seethingly jealous of him and his cakewalk of a fucking existence when she first met him, resolved that she had no other choice but to hate him on premise. But they’d been assigned as duet partners for the end-of-summer showcase and, faced with no other choice but to get along with him, she’d discovered that they were fucking made for each other. Ben didn’t mind that Bianca was kind of a bitch; he laughed at her jokes, he seemed to understand her. All three qualities she’d never experienced from other kids her age. One juvenile performance of Waltz for Eva and Che later, and she’d found an apparent friend for life. 

And then, once high school drew to a close and Bianca was confronted head-on with the unblinking abyss of her future and its hopelessness, he’d offered her an exit route. He was freaked out by the idea of sharing a dorm with a stranger, so his dad had eventually relented after months of begging to privately rent an apartment - he just needed a roommate. She’d never expected that that offer would land her here. 

“So, you’re pregnant?” He asks cautiously. 

“Yeah - no shit, Sherlock.”

“Do you think you should take another one? To make sure or whatever?” Ben asks. Bianca presses the heel of her hand to her temple, still not breaking eye contact with the pregnancy test. 

“Nope - that looks pretty positive to me,” Bianca shows it to him, wiping the mist of stress-sweat from her brow. Ben pulls a vaguely disgusted face. There’s a moment of pause - Bianca bites her lip, struggling to make sense of the messy cocktail of emotions swirling around inside her head. 

“Are you okay?” Ben tries to take Bianca’s hand. It feels weirdly violating to have someone touching her while she’s sitting on the toilet. She swats him away. 

“I think so. I need a little time to get my head around…everything.” Bianca grits her teeth. 

All the scary new problems are dawning on her all at once, like she’s being descended on by a swarm of wasps. College. How to tell her parents. Hospital bills. College again. The apartment is too small for another person. She’ll probably be a shitty mother. Ben. Ben’s pending status as an absent father. She’s never changed a diaper before. College. Fucking college.  

She’s currently scraping through year number four of her two-year community college program. Which, as it turns out, only takes two years if you aren’t working full-time to try and keep yourself fed and housed. Ben’s impending graduation from USC - full ride for a screenwriting major, family that gave a shit about him - made that feel even more grim.  

This whole convoluted, stupid journey to something better had felt both never-ending and deeply hopeless for the last thirty-six months, and now the whole endeavor is decisively fucked. Even if she does make it to that prophesied something better - enough credits to earn her a spot in the fashion merchandising major she’d been declined acceptance to straight out of high school - there’s no way she can handle real college with a fucking screaming infant permanently attached to her. She can feel the dream crumbling in her hands.  

Bianca makes a silent resolution that she’s not putting her own kid - who still feels very much like a hypothetical even though it very much isn’t - through the same shit. You’re eighteen now, you’re not our problem any more. It really didn’t help that every screaming argument with her mom in the leadup to her high school graduation had been silently spectated by her brother - in all his uneducated, unemployed, twenty-seven year old glory - from his position fossilized into the living room couch with his PlayStation controller in his hand. We’re not paying for you to stay in this house and fuck your life up - why her specifically? 

Her desire not to be their problem had trailed her from NOLA to LA with Ben, and that was its own issue. She leaves on her terms and she’s abandoning her family, even though it was their sharp insistence that she got a job or an apartment or fucking something else that didn’t involve her living at home and taking up too much space that had pushed her in that direction in the first place. What the fuck was there for her at home anyway? Community college and shitty waitressing jobs? At least she could do the same shit against a prettier backdrop on the other side of the country. 

Bianca realizes she’s staring dementedly at the test in her hand again. She sniffs, trying to blink away tears she hadn’t noticed forming.

“I really didn’t see being a single mom in my life plan,” she mutters - thinking out loud.

Except she had. In her bleaker moments - the ones in which she was seventeen and terrified of what would happen if she never got out of her hometown. She hadn’t had that nightmare since she and Ben had packed his car and left at the beginning of September four years ago. 

“Who says you have to be a single mom?” Ben tilts his head, reaching a hand out for her again. 

Bianca scoffs. 

“What? No- Ben, I really don’t want to date you - one night was bad enough.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. But like…if you’re gonna go through with this, I’m not just leaving you by yourself to do it. Both of us did something dumb, and now we’re here - so, both of us should have to parent the consequence.” 

There’s a quiet, sympathetic smile on Ben’s face. Bianca still wants to fucking kill him. She eyes him up, searching for any hints of deception or fake-niceness. Surprisingly, he passes the on-the-spot analysis. 

“You’re just saying that so I stop being mad at you.”

“No! Anyway, I can’t let you raise it by yourself - I love you, but the world really, really doesn’t need two of you.”

“Ha-ha, go suck a dick,” Bianca rolls her eyes. She can’t help but crack a smile. 

“If this is what happens when I try to go outside my comfort zone, then yeah, that’s what I’m sticking to.”  

****

2nd May, 2022

“That was less excruciating than I thought it would be,” Bianca arches her back as she perches on the edge of the bed, stretching out. Her hair is still elaborately styled; what little of her makeup had survived the day still on her face.

She’d abandoned her dress on the floor the second that they got to their hotel room. She’s basically naked, which Ben seems perplexingly unbothered by; married, heterosexual life seems to have changed him quicker than she thought it would. It’s a relief, finally being alone with him. She’d have preferred to actually be alone, but after a day of forced smiles and overwhelm, he was better than nothing. 

“Absolutely,” Ben nods, sitting down to untie his shoes. He’s still wearing his tux - his black curls are coiffed back from his face, and he’d almost pass for straight, were it not for his meticulously groomed eyebrows. “I mean, I could have done with maybe seventy percent less beer and sports talk from your dad - I was starting to think he was onto me.” 

“I thought everyone knew there’s no home runs in football - that’s not a gay thing, you’re just dumb.” 

The shotgun wedding hadn’t really been a part of the plan, but after Bianca’s mom had found out that she was pregnant, and then proceeded to call her non-stop for weeks in order to berate her for bringing shame on the family like it was the fucking 1800s, Ben had suggested it. Her mother’s bizarre and endlessly changing standards of behavior continue to baffle Bianca.  

The decision to go ahead with it seemed a bit weird, but ‘weird’ had become a default preset of Bianca’s existence since January. Ben had thrown himself into the organization with immediate, over-the-top passion - opening up Pinterest and starting on the moodboard five minutes after Bianca had agreed to it. It had kept him entertained and out of the way, which was nice - he’d already started reading parenting books, and was being a little overbearing about prenatal vitamins and whether or not Bianca had made her birth plan yet. 

Outside of picking out her dress, Bianca hadn’t really had to do or think about anything. Marrying a gay man had its perks. She’d had a brief reprieve from Ben’s preemptive helicopter parenting, which gave her more energy to focus on finding bigger apartments, since otherwise the kid would be sleeping in the closet, and trying to convince her job that no, four weeks definitely wasn’t enough maternity leave. 

The wedding day had been quietly excruciating - her family, her mom specifically, engaging in that grim unspoken facade of keeping up appearances. Pretending that everything was completely fine and normal, denying any knowledge of Bianca’s pregnancy when asked about it. It would be embarrassing if it wasn’t so fucking normal for her. The atmosphere had been thorny, and Bianca had spent most of the day choking back alcohol-free prosecco and waiting for it to be over. 

Ben’s family - who seemed confused but generally enthusiastic about the whole ordeal, probably only half-buying Ben’s assertion that he was actually bi and Bianca was definitely the one - seemed to like Bianca though, and that was refreshing. Some kind of normalcy in As Yet Unnamed Kid’s extended family was deeply necessary. They, and Ben himself, had been the only bearable part of the whole thing. Plus they’d fronted most of the expenses and organized the reception at their country club, which was a damn sight better than the social hall of the church that Bea’s family pretended to attend. 

“Anyway, I’ve got proof that we’ve fucked at least once, so I don’t think anyone was super suspicious,” Ben continues as Bianca flops back onto the plush bed, letting out a heavy sigh. “How is she doing?” 

“She’s fine - she let Mommy keep all of her food down today, so that’s something,” Bianca says. 

She’s kind of starting to show now; although just to the point where she looks spectacularly bloated, rather than recognisably pregnant. They didn’t actually know what gender she was yet - but Bea had a feeling. Maybe it was more of a hope, actually; if it was a boy, Ben got to pick the name, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about calling it Raphael. 

The kid had been a little bitch recently - whenever Bianca tried to complain about it, Ben would just laugh and remind her that she clearly took after her mom. After a lot of smugness about how she’d not had morning sickness at all, it hit her like a truck for some reason the moment she hit her second trimester. She’d spent the better part of the month before the wedding bent over a toilet bowl. Bianca is already pretty fucking sick of being pregnant, and she’s not even halfway done - she’s always tired, and her boobs hurt, and she misses comfortable sleep and coffee. She thought that nine months with no booze would be the hard part, but dragging herself through life without caffeine is proving to be the real kicker. 

“This is weird,” Bianca muses, staring up at the ceiling.  

“What’s weird?” Ben turns to look at her, eyes landing on and then immediately flashing away from her exposed tits.  

“Try and think about it for like, slightly longer than you wanna think about it. You’re my husband, and I’m pregnant with your kid,” she says plainly. “In what universe was that ever something either of us would have wanted a year ago?" 

“Okay, so maybe you’re kind of messy and annoying, and you talk with your mouth full like, all the time and it’s really gross, but I can think of worse people to spend the rest of my life with,” he shrugs. Bianca swats at him with a pillow. 

“Thanks a lot.” She aims for pissed, but a smile cracks its way through. “Anyway, it’s not the rest of our lives - play pretend for a few years, then split up and go and live our truths or whatever once she moves out, like we agreed,” Bianca says. Ben nods knowingly.  

That was another aspect of things that she was a little hesitant about. Ben had meant what he said about sticking around and raising the kid, but they’d always planned for something more like coparenting. They’d have the baby, and then grow the fuck up and get their own relationships and apartments and lives while splitting custody. 

So, the sham marriage thing had interfered with that master plan quite a fucking lot. The situation had divulged into a years-long commitment to lying to people - no dating, since what was gonna happen when the kid started talking and blabbed to whatever set of grandparents about Daddy’s boyfriend? They were gonna be stuck living together for the foreseeable. So, even more keeping up of fucking appearances, which Bianca can’t stand doing it. But the ring on her finger is a glaring, expensive sign that she’s already committed.  

They’d talked about it already; pretend to everyone, including the kid, that everything was entirely fine and normal until she was old enough to understand it, get a divorce in about eighteen years, and go their separate ways while continuing to be friends if they could still stand the sight of each other. Easy. 

“Thinking about it like that just makes it sound worse,” Ben leans back to lie next to her, loosening his tie. “It’s gonna be fine. One step at a time.”

“Sure,” Bianca replies, distant. 

“I mean,” Ben rolls over onto his side, lowering his eyelids into an expression that Bianca imagines is supposed to be seductive. “It is our wedding night - how about round two?”

“Ew - no, never.” Bianca cracks a smile, pushing him away. Ben laughs. 

“Thank god, I barely got through saying that without puking.” He starts unbuttoning his shirt and glancing around the expansive bridal suite - still a mess from Bea getting ready that morning. “Do you want me to take the couch?”  

Bianca thinks for a second.

“Nah - that doesn't feel fair. I’ve been averaging getting up to pee about ten times a night though, so you can look forward to that.” She looks down at her belly, putting both hands around her barely-noticeable bump. “I hope you know you’re already a gigantic pain in my ass, baby.”  

****

September 29th, 2022  

Ben had left to go and get coffee - which is probably a good thing, since Bianca was getting tired of looking at him. He’d been…way too intensely supportive, to an extent that she’d found a little smothering. But at least he’d been there. Throughout the last nine months, Bianca had been worried that he was eventually going to get sick of her shit and leave her to deal with it by herself. She’d given him no shortage of shit to get sick of. 

The epidural hasn’t quite worn off yet; Bianca has no idea what sort of state her pussy is in, and she’s not sure she wants to know. She’s sweaty and exhausted, but she feels…good. For some reason. 

Her water had broken that morning. Ben had been at work - fatherhood looming over him and in desperate need of something more secure than his old three shifts a week at TGI Fridays, he’d picked up a job doing data entry or some other boring crap in an office full of middle-aged straight women about two months ago. Apparently it had been hilarious to watch his reputation as the super fun token gay guy shatter in real time when he’d announced to his boss in front of most of his coworkers that he had to leave because his wife had just gone into labor. 

Yeah, he’d been fucking insufferable with the constant ‘you’re doing amazing’s, but he was trying his best. Bea couldn’t exactly be mad at him - he’d just put up with eight hours of her screaming bloody murder and telling everyone who came near her to go fuck themselves. And she’s pretty sure she’d been gripping his hand so tightly she came close to breaking a couple of his fingers. 

The room is quiet now. It’s bliss, compared to the chaos of the last few hours - the mad rush of doctors and nurses and blood and sweat and swearing. It’s getting dark outside, the glow of the city lights flickering through the thin curtains. There’s a plastic crib next to Bianca’s bed, with a pink label on its side. Adore Del Rio, 6lbs 3oz. 

No matter how disgusting and tiring her day has been - and it was really tiring, and really, really fucking disgusting - a sense of enormous, beautiful calm had washed over Bianca when she held her daughter for the first time. Her daughter. 

She’d never felt anything like this before, looking down at the tiny, squishy, pink bundle in her arms. She’s asleep now, wrapped in a blanket and held to Bea’s bare chest. She’s so…little, and so delicate, Bianca thinks as Adore - her fucking daughter - wriggles and murmurs, reaching up for her with one perfect, miniature hand. The delicate curls of her wispy brown hair, and the gentle rise and fall of her chest as Bianca holds her close - she can’t believe that she fucking made her. She’s so perfect, and so goddamn fucking small - and Bianca feels both blissfully zen, and absolutely ready to tear anybody who tries to take Adore away from her limb from limb. 

She’s barely been here for an hour, and Bianca loves her more than she’s ever loved anything else before. 

*****

March 18th, 2041

“Did you finish your homework last night?”

“Yes.” Adore, lacking in any semblance of enthusiasm, grunts from the kitchen table; pulling out one of her earbuds and looking at Bianca with a mix of indignation and fury.   

“Then how come I’m getting emails from the school - again - about you not turning it in?” Bianca places the last clean plate on the dishrack and turns around, leaning against the counter and drying her wet hands on the ass of her jeans. That fails to elicit any form of response from her asshole teenager, and she tries again. “Come the fuck on, Dorey- it’s like you don’t even want to graduate.”

“Maybe I don’t?” She tilts her head, shit-eating grin on her face. That was a deliberate attempt at pissing her off - Bianca has gotten pretty good in recent years at telling those apart from Adore pissing her off without meaning to, and she tries not to let it. Even if her blood is already quietly simmering. 

“Oh, you absolutely do if you wanna keep living in this house-”

“Leave her alone, Bea.” Ben laughs, sitting opposite from Adore, as he looks up from the article he’s reading on his tablet. 

He only got home from work about an hour ago - most of Bianca’s days off fall on weekdays, so she’s been at home all day, doing pretty much nothing of note until Adore got home from school. They’d had a minor screaming match about the state of Adore’s room - Bianca had threatened to withhold phone privileges and her car keys until Adore relented, threw out the fifteen water bottles she’d been accumulating on her nightstand, and hid the rest of her mess in the closet. Fuck it, good enough. 

They only seemed to either argue or ignore each other when Ben wasn’t home which was…just fucking great. It made Bianca feel totally awesome about herself. But Ben is back, order has been restored, and Bianca is cleaning up after dinner like nothing had happened. 

“Whose side are you on?” Bianca replies, faux-shocked. “Fucking traitor.” 

“Clearly mine, because I’m his favorite,” Adore smirks. You don’t know the fucking half of it, Dorey. 

Bianca isn’t saying anything, but the way that Adore is looking at her tells her that she probably still looks mad. This recurring point of tension is getting several million miles up Bianca’s ass. 

Adore’s latest thing, with her last months of high school on horizon, has been threatening not to go to college. She’d gotten her applications in by some fucking miracle, and by even further fucking miracle had been accepted for a songwriting major at some prestigious music school that Bianca couldn’t remember the name of - and was now adamant that she wasn’t going, in favour of driving around the country with the ‘band’ that her and her dumbass friends had formed last summer, playing gigs in basements and doing god-knows what else. 

Bianca feels like she knows on some level that this is all talk; of course Adore is gonna graduate and go, she’s not stupid. But she’s been in the midst of a prolonged rebellious phase since she was about thirteen. Every time they fight about it, Bianca wants to shake Adore and tell her you’re gonna fucking do this because I couldn’t, stop being fucking ungrateful - but her failed aspirations aren’t Adore’s fault. 

It just annoys her. Adore, in every possible way, has had an easier life than Bianca ever did and she struggles not to hate her for it. Her future is available to her on a silver goddamn platter, she’s looking for reasons to not take it, and for fucking what? Being cool? 

Ben, against what had seemed like all odds when they were in their twenties, had really fallen upwards from the joint error that had changed the trajectory of both of their lives. That first ‘pay the bills’ office job doing whatever-the-fuck had unlocked Ben’s secret talent for playing corporate ball, and a little less than eighteen years later he was the CFO of an LGBT charity, and making what Bianca deemed to be a fucking stupid amount of money. Enough to afford their too-nice house in a too-nice neighborhood in West LA, and Adore’s too-nice performing arts high school. 

Bianca had climbed about as far up the ladder as she’d been able to, but given that she was a college dropout with no real experience in anything else, the depressing non-failure of retail store management was about the best she could manage. It wore her down; the feeling of uselessness and guilt as she inhabited this existence that felt a million miles above her means. 

“This is insane - have you guys read about this new Cookie Heaven thing they’re trialing?” Ben looks up again, breaking the frosty silence - Bianca disinterestedly flicking through her phone, Adore disinterestedly pretending to finish her homework. “Guys?” 

Ben had been bizarrely fixated on this emergent technology for the last year or so - some shit about consciousness transfers and virtual afterlifes that Bianca didn’t understand and didn’t care to. It made her skin crawl, not that she had any idea why. Truly, the rate at which Cookies as a principle had been developed, outlawed, un-outlawed, given rights, made illegal again but only in certain situations - it felt like it dominated the news, and with every possible turn it got weirder. Their trajectory had felt like trying to find a point for something that had been invented pointlessly. Criminal justice, entertainment, smart home tech, medical advances, god knows what else - Bianca just thought they were a bit macabre. 

“Nope, don’t want to. It’s creepy.” Bianca shudders, kicking off the process of shutting him up about it before he talks about it too much and gets under her skin. “Is this like that chick who died in that AR art thing at Burning Man and got stuck in the Cloud? Because that freaked me the fuck out.”

“Why? I think it’s really nice. According to this, they’ve been successful with people who’ve been uploaded prior to death, so now they’re looking at trialing it for long-term coma patients, end-of-life care, people with Alzheimer’s - it could be really promising.”

“Absolutely not - when I die, let me rest in fucking peace.” Bianca pulls a face.  “Don't throw some gross little computer clone of me into a weird simulation and force me to live forever - it’s weird. I don’t like it." 

“Bianca, Cookies aren’t just computers-” 

“It’s messed up.”

Adore shuffles uncomfortably in her seat, pushing her earbuds in further. Bianca half-watches her, pursing her lips. 

“I think it’s sweet. It says in the article that if this trial thing works, then they’re going to look at options for letting family members visit,” Ben says a little wistfully. 

“Ah.” It takes a moment of thought, but Bianca feels like an asshole. 

“Look, I just think that if something like that had been around thirty years ago, it would have been…” he stops, not sure how to finish his sentence. Ben’s mom died when he was ten, and that tragedy has been underpinning Adore’s entire adolescence; his constant anxiety over something happening to himself or Bianca, not wanting his daughter to have to suffer through the same lifelong, unshifting grief. “Think about Adore-”

“Yeah - maybe think about me enough to not have this conversation right in fucking front of me?” Adore bolts to her feet, her hands clasped at her sides. Her eyes look moist. Bianca half-opens her mouth, trying to say something, but no words make their way out. “This is freaking me out - stop it!”

She scrubs at her eyes furiously with a balled fist, storming out of the room and letting the door swing shut behind her with a thud. 

“Dorey-” Ben calls out weakly after her. 

“What the fuck was that?” Bianca walks around the table, slumping down into the seat Adore had just been occupying. She hears Adore’s bedroom door slam from upstairs. 

“I dunno - I guess that got a little heavy? I mean, who wants to sit around and listen to their parents talking about what’s gonna happen when they die?” Ben looks uncomfortable, chewing at his bottom lip. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”  

“Yeah,” Bianca replies distantly, not really listening. 

“I do mean it, though.” Ben says, leaning across the table - looking past Bianca’s folded arms and frosty expression. “If I’d had some way to still talk to my mom - even if it wasn’t fully real, even if it was just a simulation - I’d have wanted that. And I don’t think it’s fair that we should stop Adore from having that chance.”

“What, so I have to commit to being alive forever even when I don’t want to, for her benefit? I don’t think she even likes me anymore, Ben - she wouldn’t care.” Bianca sounds more morose than she wants to, but it’s true. She loves Adore, but god knows the kid is going out of her way to make that difficult. 

“Believe me, she would.” Ben looks at her a little too seriously. “I’m just saying I think we should look into it.” 

“Look into it all you want - I’m not doing it.” 

“Seriously, Bea-” Ben is looking at her with puppy eyes and it’s making her feel nauseous. “For Adore?”

There’s loud music blasting upstairs, and Bianca is wondering if it’s Adore picking up an old habit of putting her speakers on when she’s crying, so that nobody can hear her. She wants to go and check on her, but she’s glaringly aware that any interference from her is perceived as a pending attack by Adore right now - how powerless she feels hurts. Bianca looks at the floor, picking at her cuticles. 

 “Fine.”

*****

August 4th, 2042

“So, I’m sure this isn’t gonna come as a shock to you, but your dad and I got a divorce.” 

Adore’s eyes practically pop out of her head as she spits her coffee out. More of it gets on Bianca’s face than she would have liked. 

“What?” 

“I don’t think I left much room for interpretation there, Dorey,” Bianca grimaces, wiping secondhand iced latte off of her cheek with a napkin. 

“Yeah, okay, whatever. Why the fuck did you get a divorce?” Adore looks sullen. Almost angry, actually. 

Regardless of how different they’d seemed to become as she’d grown up, every so often Bianca was hit with a very, very strong reminder that Adore was her mother’s daughter. Calm and rational, per fucking usual. 

She’d debated back and forth with Ben about who should tell her. They’d been dancing around the subject since June, when Adore had first come home for summer; practically rehearsing the conversation. Eventually they’d settled on Bianca - Ben had admitted himself that Bianca’s at times abrasive directness was the way forward. Adore didn’t hold well with people pussyfooting around her, and Ben was always a little too delicate with her feelings. He’d been the ideal Good Cop to Bianca’s bad one when Adore was little - but she was nineteen now, had moved out almost a year ago, and was as close to a real adult as she was realistically ever gonna be. She needed someone to be straight with her. And, well, out of the two of them, Bianca was probably the closest thing to straight. Even after nearly twenty years of marriage. 

The split itself had been more than amicable, since years of planning had gone into it. The only slight point of contention had been, in the process of unpicking and rewriting both of their advanced directives, Ben had been pretty insistent on her keeping the part about San June-whatever-the-fuck - that weird Cookie Heaven thing which she’d hoped would just be a passing fad when Ben brought it up last spring, but had only gained more traction and more apparent success. 

She’d tried to reason with him about Adore being a grown-up now, and how she’d made it through the last year without shuffling off this mortal coil, and so their respective deaths were probably a far-future issue that they shouldn’t be so worried about right now, but it hadn’t flown. Bianca had spent long enough in lawyers’ offices debating bullshit to have any useful argument left in her. She’d thought the divorce process would be less of a nightmare since it was agreed upon by both parties prior to the fucking wedding, but apparently she’d thought wrong.

“Because we…” Bianca sighs, facepalming. Adore has tears in her eyes. Shit, she really hadn’t been expecting this. “Because he’s gay, Adore.” 

Adore’s eyes pop again. Bianca clamps a hand over her mouth before she gets a chance to cover her in overpriced coffee again. 

“Daddy’s gay?” Adore blurts out as soon as she manages to swallow. 

“Duh?” That just tumbles out of Bianca’s mouth without any real thought. “Are you really telling me that you never suspected anything?” 

“No? I thought he was just like…I dunno, really into theater. Did you just find out? Holy shit, are you okay?” Adore reaches for Bianca’s hand a little frantically. Bianca laughs, shaking her head. 

“Nope - I’ve always known. Dorey, I…” she sighs again, realizing how ridiculous this sounds. “Listen, when a gay man and a bisexual live together, and they get really, really drunk this one time…” 

“Ohmigod, you’re bi?” 

How unobservant is this fucking kid? 

“Yeah - surprise. Now you know why we were so fucking chill about it when you cut all your hair off and started begging for a pair of Doc Martens when you were twelve,” Bianca says, chuckling. 

A confused look washes over Adore’s face. “But I…you always seemed so in love.”

“We decided we were gonna get married and pretend to be normal so that we didn’t fuck you up,” Bianca shrugs. “Which clearly worked super well.” 

Adore cracks a smile. It feels good to see her smile. 

Since Adore moved out for college - miracle of fucking miracles - the rift between them that her teenage years had created seemed to fill itself in. Bianca felt closer to her; felt the warmth of her love without hesitation or denial for the first time in years. She was like a different person. Happy - blossoming into herself. She’d started posting her music on social media, and was getting enough buzz to land gigs here and there. And she hadn’t just stopped pushing Bianca away, but had started actively reaching out for her. She called her at least once every couple of days because she missed her; messaged her constantly. Just frivolous little updates about her days, or pictures of dogs that she’d seen - silly little shit. But it felt good. 

She’d worried that it wouldn’t last. But Adore had come home for summer, and as it trailed to an end, there’d been no second coming of their years-long bitch-feud. Everything had been fucking glorious. 

“Boo, you’re mean,” Adore says playfully. 

“For the record, we were good at faking being in love because we both love you,” Bianca says, reaching out to take Adore’s hand. She’s bitten off two of her acrylics again - Bianca is a little suspicious about which two exactly, and briefly debates calling her out for it. Whatever - she’s an adult, she can do what she wants. But Bianca is taking her to get a manicure once they get done oversharing in the middle of this cafe, because it looks like shit. “That’s not gonna change. But you’re probably gonna end up with stepparents.” 

Adore looks down. She’s always done this cute little smirky thing when she’s embarrassed - eyes fixed to the floor, quietly smiling to herself. Bianca loves it. 

“Are you dating anyone right now?” 

Bianca rolls her eyes. 

“We’re not dating-dating. But yeah - her name is Katya, I met her online.”

“Is she hot?”

“None of your business - she’s too old for you anyway,” Bianca shoots Adore a warning look. “Your dad was on a date last night, too - some guy called Darius, apparently it went really well. But I’m gonna look into getting his room soundproofed.” 

“Ewwww,” Adore clamps her hands over her ears, laughing. “You’re being gross. Stop being gross.” 

“Don’t ask questions you’re not prepared to hear the answer to,” Bianca grins. “Are you good now? Or do you feel like spitting coffee all over me again? I really enjoyed it that first time.” 

“Honestly? I always wondered why none of my friends’ parents had their own bedrooms,” Adore thinks out loud. Bianca shakes her head, chuckling. 

“I love you so much, you fucking moron.”

Pride Challenge Points: 10,312

[dcxdpdabbles]

Danny holding a glowing jar: What is this? Clockwork: Oh, that's some human soul I won in a poker game with a few demons. Danny:A human soul? What the hell did you bet that was the same value as a human soul? Clockwork: Your hand in marriage Danny: I BEG YOU FINEST PARDON?! Clockwork: Relax, I won, didn't I? Now I have a neat soul in a jar. Danny: Who does this even belong to? Clockwork:A child. Danny: .....you're giving this back. Clockwork: What? Why? The child wasn't even using it. Danny: I'm taking the soul back. What's the child's name? Clockwork: *Sigh* Fine, ruin my fun. The boy is called Subject 514A. Danny: What kind of name is that? Clockwork: He's a clone of another human child that was experimented on and was never given a personal name. Hence, Subject 514A. His body is currently deteriorating as we speak. If he stays in his current dimension, Death will claim him. Danny: WHAT!? We got to do something! Clockwork: I can't in his current dimension. Death has jurisdiction there as Fate has set that child's life to end. Danny: .....you set this jar out to appeal to my Savior complex and help you get back at Death and Fate didn't you? Clockwork: I KNOW THOSE TWO CHEATED AT CARDS! So I figured stealing one of their little humans and moving him into a nearby dimension a few years ahead would drive them up a wall. They have no power there since the timeline is my jurisdiction! Danny: And I wouldn't let anything happen to Subject 514A, meaning that the world would accommodate the Ghost King and the child under his care. You're using me a pawn in your petty game. Clockwork: You're still going to take that boy and raise him. Danny: Yeah, because I have the body to be a perfect DILF, but that's beside the point! I mean if he's a clone would the orginal be in the new dimension? Clockwork: Yes, but Bruce Wayne would be a full-grown adult with multiple children of his own instead of a sixteen-year-old adolescent like Subject 514A. Danny: Great, a teenager in angst. why not. Clockwork watching Danny leave through a portal to grab his new son: All according to plan. Soon, Wayne will assume Danny is raising his unknown, ill son, and my ship will sail once they get to know each other. he ha he ha he ha.

[barsicool]

Five nights at Voxdonald's 😜😜😜

[cozylittleartblog]

Columbo and the Knight (1984)

put me in the universe where Columbo ran through the 1980s and had a crossover episode with Knight Rider. I think they deserved it, and I am not just saying that because they're my two favorite Old Shows. @telebeast wrote a little fanfic blurb about it and I HAD to visualize it into a comic (which is also the longest comic I have finished thus far at five pages...), so writing credit goes to them.

Autism W!

[rosalie-starfall]

Star Trek: Strange New Worlds

Those Old Scientists

[gleafer]

I love when tiny things are big strong and use it to swoop up their giant counterparts.

Buffy saves Dean. Again.

[maryheart22]

Woo, spring break is here!! Take some more doodles! (wanted to do Belos and the Diamonds, but too lazy atm, will do them later ^^

[kusakichan15]

Solving Crimes 🔎🚓

They're both single dads with alien boyfriends 🤭🤭🤭

[swamiiyasssss]

Would PAY for them to interact. Omg????

Sass-off, Mog-off, daddy-issue….off

[watchyourbuck]

it’s always been a lil ✨sus✨ the way they put so much buddie into the lone star x og 911 crossover. like,,, that wasn’t even an episode of us, just for lone star. they used practically all the screen time in the buck x eddie buckley-diaz family conundrum. lingering glances. “follow buck back pls”. eddie mad that he’s staring. tk reading buck as a fruit. eddie appearing right after. like that’s an incredible amount of effort bro lmao they truly were gonna canonize these homos

[tanglepelt]

Dp x dc idea 35

Amity park is a town with an info blackout. They are fed lies regarding the government, the Giw is just apart of the scheme.

When the fentons open the portal. There is fear that citizens will try to leave hence the GIW. They are there to make it seem like they have outside help.

Vlad is fully aware of it. He doesn’t care all he wants is Maddie. The Fenton parents are also aware. They don’t care they just want to hunt ghost. No one expected the Fentons to succeed.

The group planned on doing something with amity. Not to sure what. Something nefarious.

One day Danny overhears this. Him not having the brain cell for the day. Hides in the random persons trunk and leaves amity behind. Literally didn’t tell anyone. Just went for it.

Thus enters a world with hero’s. Dudes shell shocked.

He gets caught up in a fight between a villain and hero actually on accident. Ends up panicking and knocks out said villain.

Hence how he meets a hero and finds out humans are a lot more squishy then ghost. He wasn’t even using his ghostly strength.

He gets help for amity. And whatever the scheme is gets stopped.

[dcxdpdabbles]

phone a friend♥️

danny is a god and poor tim is trying so hard to ignore his family talking about the wedding

Tim watches Danny as the other boy gestures wildly to the art around them. It's surprising to know that Danny has never been to a art museum, claiming the small town he was from never had one.

Oh, they had small art shows and a few street markets, but nothing official like a building dedicated to art. Their teacher had announced to the class a semi-famous water color painter's work was going to be on exhibit a week ago.

She offered extra credit to anyone who would go and write a report about their experience.

Very few people cared, seeing as a majority of the student body of Gotham would go to art auctions at least once a week. Tim had been among those that didn't plan on attending, seeing as his grade were adequate enough, and he's been to the art museum often with Damian.

Then he glanced at the desk next to him, watching frost slowly form around Danny's hands as the boy read about the museum. A few seconds later, he stuffed the flyer into his backpack, the sound of snickering from further down telling Tim that some of the more annoying classmates saw how fascinated Danny was.

Knowing him, Danny would probably act like it was lame if only to save face with his classmates who didn't accept or deserve him. The frost vanished, replaced with a soft echo in Danny's voice as he muttered about how he didn't think he could afford to waste money on a museum ticket.

Tim likely wasn't supposed to hear that. He picks up the flyer, considering it with an pair of great importance, just long enough for Danny to realize that Tim was doing so before gesturing at it.

"That sounds cool. Easy extra credit. Do you want to go with me, Danny?" Tim found himself asking. Danny's entire face lit up, frost forming around the windows near him in beautifual snowflack shapes.

Thank goodness the two sat so far back in the classroom, and the winter was well underway. No one would question the frost in this environment.

That's how he found himself, wandering around the Gotham art museum with an overly hyper meta on a cold winter Saturday. They sold hot chocolate at the entrance- with strict instructions to not go beyond the ropes- and he took sips as Danny oh and ah at everything.

He tried really hard to ignore his family, who were following them room by room just outside Danny's range. They weren't even in disguises! The idiots were walking around as the Waynes but were moving in a way that made it impossible for them to "accidentally" bump into Tim and Danny.

This kind of behavior he expects from his siblings, maybe Bruce due to Danny's meta powers, but Alfred? Why had Alfred forsaken him so?

"Tim, look at this piece!" Danny calls, pointing to a very dramatic interpretation of the Black Plague in the form of a grim reaper towering over a cowering village.

Tim shoot the doorway a glare, catching the flash of one of Jason's wavings hands before he joins Danny infront of the rope. He's eyes take in every detail, every stroke, a bit breathless by how alive the paiting is.

"It's gorgeous." Tim breathes, eyes lingering on a figure atop a hill in the background. The figure has enough details that it's obvious he is also part of the story, not just the setting.

Despite his commoner clothing, he looked like an angel among the humans. The figure looked up at the grim reaper, his white hair flowing in the wind, and a gentle glow surrounding him.

His expression was remorseful but accepting of what was happening, and his beauty was almost inhuman as he watched the reaper bring the village to its knees. Tim swears he looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place the face due to its near-human features; there was just something more to it.

Tim points towards him. "I think that's supposed to be life."

Danny's eyes lock onto the glowing boy before choking on his drink. Alarm Tim pats his back as Danny coughs through the liquid. "Dude are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" Danny wheezes "Just fine. Um, when was this painted?"

There is a plaque right underneath the painting with the art detail. He squints at it before reading out loud: "Black Death's Shadow. Painted in 1886 by an unknown Goth artist. It's said that the artist was painting a story passed down through the generations of the survivors of a small village saved by the King."

Danny wheezes harder. "Wow that's crazy. It's really pretty. What-um what style would this be called? Need to write that essay for Mrs. X. "

"It looks like romanticism," Tim responded, leaning in the closer, chest now over the velvet ropes. He squits harder at the glowing figure, trying to figure out who it reminded him of. The artist was talented, but maybe they weren't able to capture the charater well based off of stories?

"Wow so cool," Danny said in a strained voice. He turns to look at his companion and is about to ask if something is wrong when a quick spark races across his shoulder blades. Surprised by the sensation, Tim jerks his shoulders, feeling as if though someone had shocked him.

He quickly glances around with his eyes, ensuring not to turn his head and witness other guests flinching at the tiny spark. A few are also looking around confused.

Did everyone just experience static electricity? At the same time? With no one touching metal or other conductors? How could that be?

Danny doesn't seem to notice Tim's puzzelment because he is staring at the painted white hair boy with a forced smile. "Why do you think this is Life?"

"Lots of things," Tim responds, tilting his head slowly to try and gather more information without tipping off whatever caused that charge. "Mostly the glow and inhuman features."

Another shock, a few people wince and another few laugh, but this time Tim saw a flash of soft sparks race across Danny's left hand, and his mouth makes a small o in realization.

Danny's meta powers were causing the static shocks. But what emotion was causing this?

"Inhuman?" Danny stammered, more sparks zapping across his hands but not strong enough that Tim could feel them.

"Yeah, he's inhumanly beautiful," Tim answered, watching in real-time as Danny's cheeks turned rosy while the sparks stopped. His hair started to fall out slowly, indicating happiness and slight bashfulness. He was acting like Tim had called him beautiful—not that he wasn't. Danny was fairly good-looking.

Huh.

Tim truned back to the painting compare it's feacture to the boy next to him and then it clicked.

Danny was the glowing boy in the painting, or more likely when using his powers. Cass did say Danny reminded her of Captain Marvel.

Now, the question remained: Was it just his powers, or was Danny physically present the day this was painted? Even further than that, was Danny there the day the painting's inspiration had happened, five hundred years before the artist painted the tale?

Was Danny unaware he was in the painting?

"Um, we should move on, yeah? I think I want to check out some of the sculptures?" Danny sputtered while tugging on Tim's hand. Without letting go his classmate dragged him out of the painting exhibits in brisk speed walk.

He definitely knows that was him. Tim thought, watching Danny's back as he let himself be led away. Does that mean I was wrong about him being a meta? Is Danny a god or god adjacent?

Meanwhile, the rest of the Waynes are crowding around the doorway of the painting hall, watching Tim and his not-human boyfriend practically run away.

"They are so cute together" Dick cooed, gestureing at where Tim seemed to not be able to take his eyes off the other. "I mean look at Tim. He's mesmerized!"

"What were they looking at?" Bruce questions, stepping into the room and standing before the painting that had Danny freezing up. "Why did this cause such a strong reaction?"

"Obviously, Father, it was due to how weak-willed Drake's courtship is. He didn't even attempt to hold Fenton's hand. Coward," Damian snips at his side, while Jason and the rest quickly follow after Tim. "I could never. I held Jon's hand the second he agreed to a romantic outing-"

"What?"

"What?"

The pair stared at each other in utter silence before Damian coughed. "We should make haste to follow Drake, least we lose him. Come along Father"

"Damian, come back here. Explain what you just said. Damian!"

[ghostly-penumbra]

Ectoberhaunt 2023. Day Nine

"Dragon"

Ao3 and as a stand-alone

“Would you like a drink, Danny?”

“Just some pop, please.”

Danny’s boss snorted but accepted easily enough, handing Danny a can of cool Pepsi whilst he twirled his whiskey.

“So, do you like your job, Danny?” His boss asked without preambles.

Danny didn’t really need to think about it, he answered honestly, “Yeah, it’s chill. The pay is good and I’ve been kinda nocturnal since I was fourteen so the late hours are no problem for me. The tips are great too, and the patrons are… wild, yes,” his boss huffed a small laugh at Danny’s understatement of the night-club goers, but didn’t interrupt him, “but no one has, like, tried to punch me or something, so I don’t mind.”

“That’s good.” His boss said softly and drank some more of his whiskey. “Look, Danny, contrary to what you may have heard of me, I am not in the habit of conquering other realms and enthralling their rulers, so know that you are not my vassal and I don’t want your Kingdom. I don’t even want my Kingdom! I’ve quit! But! You don’t look like you want to leave.”

“I would very much like to keep my job, if that’s at all possible.”

Lucifer Morningstar, owner of the nightclub Lux and Danny’s current boss (so far, at least), put his tumbler aside and gave his full attention to the young man sitting across from him.

“I don’t want you to leave, either.” The Devil said. “You’re a good employee and even Maze likes you!” He said this like it was either the biggest honour or the biggest abnormality.

Mazikeen was cool, even if a tad violent, so he took the comment both ways.

“But you do know that it’s not a good look for the King of Ghosts to be working for the King of Hell, right? No matter that I’m retired or that you are alive.” He rolled his eyes at the last bit.

“Yeah. That’s, I’ll get an earful for that.” It would be from the Observants, though, and he really didn’t care for their opinion, so it would just be a minor annoyance.

“And whether you stay at Lux or not, the pantheons have certainly taken notice.” Mister Morningstar rolled his eyes again and looked at Danny with pity, which, yeah, inter-pantheon relations was not something the Ghost Zone wanted or that Danny was interested in engaging with.

“Ah, yes, the rammies.” He made a face at that. He really didn’t want any god (lowercase g, all of them) snooping in his realm to see what his relationship with the Devil was.

But if shit was going to hit the fan anyway, why not keep his well-paid job?

“It’s not a problem for me,” the Devil kept saying, “I’m happily retired! For you, on the other hand, they’ll see you as my vassal if you don’t really get anything out of this, –no, a weekly salary with legal benefits means nothing to these beings.” He said before Danny could interrupt. “If there was something I could just give you as a boon–” He stopped and a large smile slowly spread on his face. “That’s it! I am a genius!” He stood up and began pacing back and forth whilst Danny just clutched his can of pop.

“Uh, what is it?” Asked Danny, sipping his pepsi.

“I will give you Hell!” Ignoring his employee choking on his drink, the Devil carried on. “We can say you are my apprentice, or you can be my actual apprentice if you want me to teach you the ropes, and I will give you the Key of Hell and you can add it to the Ghost Zone! No one will be stupid enough to give you any trouble for it, and I will finally get my annoying family off my back.”

“But they’ll be on mine!” Danny protested once he stopped choking. “I don’t want to have Hell! I didn’t even want to be King of the Ghost Zone, I was just the dumbass that defeated the old one! I- I just wanna get through college, afford my half-life, and become an astronaut…” He put his head in one hand, the other one holding the can against his forehead.

Why this? Why couldn’t he be fired for sleeping on the bar, like a normal person?

“Oh, please, Danny, you’re a young King, hardworking too; you must want more than that.” Mister Morningstar looked him in the eye not obstructed by pop and spoke slowly, with intent, “Tell me, Danny, what do you desire?”

“To protect everyone I care about, anyone that needs it, to help them.”

“Mm, kind of basic and boring but-”

“And to reach the stars, to sail through them in the infinite night.” Danny blinked hard and shook himself off. “That’s not cool, sir.”

“Dual Obsession?” The Devil said, easily ignoring Danny’s complaint. “Not very common; befitting for a King. So what you want to do is help. You can do it being King of Hell!”

“That doesn’t sound likely.” Danny’s response only made his boss’s smirk return, and then the Devil really began his sales pitch.

How, if Danny became the new King of Hell, he could totally help redeem the souls of the damned, and since he was already King of the Ghost Zone, he could take the damned souls of the innocent there if Heaven refused to open the Gates for them, wankers that they were.

“What do you mean innocent souls in Hell?”

That only made the Devil lean in cheerily, “Oh?” He asked. “Haven’t you heard?”

Sold souls, of course. From people who sold their soul to delay their loved one’s death, to wronged firstborns whose parents wanted power no matter the cost. All of them, in Hell.

“That’s not fair.” Danny said with clenched fists.

“Well, it’s not like I have a neutral realm where runaway, wronged souls could take refuge in.” Mister Morningstar said, knowing he had the young adult hooked.

“I-” Danny tried to speak, but felt his core thrumming writhing him. He wanted to help. “I will… consult it, first, it’s- it’s too much.”

His boss nodded sagely, and once again looked him in the eye. “I will extend your insurance to your family and include dental.”

Danny would still consult it with Clockwork and his friends, but he knew he was sold.

[cursedzucchini]

Danny working as a batburger employee.

And now I know that ain't the most original thing on this website, but consider;

When Danny comes into contact with food, it gains sentience.

I mean imagine the jokerized fries coming alive trying to kill each other, bc there can be only one, before seeing the real joker and immediately forming a team to take that bitch down.

Or the poison ivy salad (I think) combining their powers together to try and kill whoever bought them.

Or the batburger hiding in the shadows.

Or like literally anything you can think of.

Just Danny, tired employee, trying to convince ppl to buy normal fries, bc if he gotta deal w the joker version one more fucking time he's burning this whole place down.

Or just trying to convince the food to stay on the plate. (And stabbing it to place if necessary)

So I'm not sure if anyone thought of this, but this is my vision ✋✨✨✨✨🤚

[ashanddoodles]

who really cares

[arttsuka]

if we got loki confusing jed for mobius could we get octy confusing mobius for jed?