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justalittleficsideblog · 1 year

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Hii

I really liked your post on a few of the Obey me! boys' reaction to reader touching their wings, so I'd like to request a similar one, but with reactions to the reader asking to see/touch the boys' tails (I'm especially curious for Barb and Levi)

Tysm, have a nice day!

ooo anon! Thank you sm for this, I hope barb and levi's parts are what you hoped for. I only did these two since I hope to do the other's another time. thank you for your request!!

MC with Barbatos and Levi, Can I See Your Tail?

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Levi

You had first taken a notice to it when he was raging at his game or show. He was arguably the most common to switch into his demon form when he was frustrated, so you had picked up on when his tail would pop out.

At first, you had just watched it swish swish swish back and forth like an irritated cat. When he calmed down, it would disappear.

Fast forward to the present, in a fairly intense scene with a show you had both been yelling at the TV, you didn’t fail to notice the long slender tail popping out from underneath the blankets.

He was lying on his stomach, his head in his hands as he unknowingly held his tail in the air, the scaly tip of it dangling down in an arc.

“Can you believe they added that?! What kind of director adds those sorts of—”

You had zoned out when his tail began flicking over towards you, tickling the top of your head as he fanned it side to side. You had never been one to absentmindedly touch something without thinking. You weren’t sure if it was because his incessant swishing had put you in a trance or what, but the way it was moving alongside his actions made you a bit more curious.

“Hey Levi? Can I see your tail?” you interrupted his rambling, causing him to whip his head towards you, all interest in the show lost.

“W-what are you talking about?” he fidgeted, his tail suddenly curling downwards, closer to his body.

“I don’t think I’ve ever gotten an up close look at it, it seems kind of expressive.” You shrugged, moving to grab a chip from the bags in front of you.

Suddenly, the tail was in front of you, raising the tip as though it had a mind of its own, peering up at you. You noticed the ombre affect of the scales when they reflected the blue light of his room.

Without thinking, you reached out to touch it, gently dragging a finger along the side of it as you cradled it in both of your hands.

“H-Hey!” his tail twitched, trying to wiggle out of your grasp. “I didn’t say you could touch it!”

Quickly releasing it, you add “I’m sorry! I didn’t realize it was sensitive.”

“I wouldn’t say that…” he mumbled, the tail now burying itself into the blanket.

With your curiosity sated, you turned back towards the show, picking at the popcorn in front of you. Levi, now flustered at your actions, decided to be a bit brave.

You felt a lock of your hair get pushed behind your ear. Turning in surprise, you felt the tail brush along the side of your face before working its way into your hair, parting your hair in weird ways and flopping it over your eyes.

You both laughed at the action.

You noticed that throughout the rest of the night, his tail remained out sneaking touches and wrapping around your form to nudge you closer into him

Barbatos

It wasn’t common that you saw barb’s tail. It wasn’t that it was rare, really. It was more that he was really good at hiding it and being out of sight, which was something he was very skilled at in general.

Deciding to take it upon yourself to catch a glimpse of his tail up close, you had managed to get yourself to help him with chores.

When you reached out, he was skeptical at first. But he was fairly used to your antics by now, so he offered that you both work on making some dishes for the young lord.

“MC, you’re getting flour all over the floor.”

You huffed, moving to grab the broom to add the flour to the ever-growing pile that now rested in the corner of the kitchen.

Barbatos chuckled softly, you had been working hard all day. From helping him organize materials, cleaning out the halls, and now to cooking with him. He was enjoying the quality time, but he assumed you were going through all of this effort for something. He just couldn’t figure out what.

“MC,” he offered politely. “Was there a particular reason for your… visit today?”

You shot up, eyes wide. “Not at all! I was just hoping we could spend some quality time together.”

He rolled his eyes, “Although I commend your efforts, I find it hard to believe that your idea of quality time involves catching rats and sweeping halls.”

Well… he had you there. So what if you wanted to catch a glimpse of his tail? The idea had stuck into your head and now you were just so curious about seeing it you realize you might’ve went overboard.

You sigh, chest falling as you place the handle of the broom against the countertop.

“This is going to sounds really weird, but I was honestly hoping to catch a glimpse of your tail.”

His brows furrowed. “I’m not sure I understand. You decided to do chores with me in hoping my tail might be seen?”

“Ok well when you put it like that it seems kinda stupid, but yeah.” Your face was burning from embarrassment, and you tucked your chin in to avoid looking at him. It sounded kinda creepy, but you hadn’t meant anything weird by it, honest! You were still so fascinated by how everyone’s demon forms were so unique that you—

Two (sorta slimey) slender tendrils caressed either side of your chin, gently bringing your head up to meet his gaze.

“You honestly could’ve just asked,” he smiled, tending to the dough in front of him.

You, however, were reeling from the texture of his tail on your skin. Prying the tips from your chin, you maneuvered his tail so that your hand was gently holding it, sort of like the snakes you saw being held on those nature documentaries in the human realm.

You took notice of the color change towards the base of his tail. Without thinking, you trailed your fingertips from the top towards the middle of the tail, feeling the difference in texture as the color shifted.

Barbatos shivered, and just like that, his tail was gone.

“Sorry,” you rubbed the back of your head. “Did that feel weird?”

“Not… weird,” he scrunched his nose. “It’s just that not many beings have dared to come close enough to touch it.”

You giggled at that, “Well thank you! And I promise I’ll still help you finish the cooking.”

Barbatos watched as you effortlessly swapped back to working. He was not one to easily be flustered, but he felt… off. His heartbeat was uncharacteristically fast, and his tailed coiled around his leg, the place where you had touched felt oddly sensitive.

From then on whenever you came around or spent time with him, he made sure his tail was present. From gently tugging on your attire for attention or to stabilize you when you tripped. You never mentioned it, but you could’ve sworn that it hovered behind yourself when you walked with him.

Barbatos swears there’s no meaning behind it, but you notice he smiles behind his hand when he turns away.

#levi x reader #barbatos x reader #obey me x reader #shall we date #obey me shall we date #i rlly like the idea of the tails holding stuff for you like #imagine saying “babe hold my phone rq” and then a tail just wraps around it like lmfao

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piratekane · 1 year

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7! Ava telling Bea that🫠🫠

seven: look at me. just breathe.

Ava looks small. She always has, despite feeling larger than life. But in a wide hospital bed with wires running from her body to the various beeping machines, she looks smaller than she did before she slipped through the Arc.

Before you sent her through it.

Beatrice stands at the edge of the doorway, wringing her hands as Jillian flutters around Ava with purposeful hands. Ava looks tired, but impossibly cheerful as Jillian puts another electrode pad on her exposed skin. She keeps stealing glances at the doorway, keeps ducking her head to meet Beatrice’s eyes, and always frowning a little when Beatrice gives nothing away.

She’s afraid to step forward, afraid to meet Ava’s eyes. What if this is a dream? What if she’s fallen asleep and woken up in a dream world where everything has magically fallen into place? Ava escaping Reya’s realm the moment Beatrice crosses the threshold of Cat’s Cradle? It’s too… perfect. It slots together too neatly.

She can’t cross the threshold because she might wake up in a hotel room somewhere - Cinque Terre, Faro, Lisbon - and this has all been a trick of the mind, a quiet torturous place her mind has found.

“Beatrice?”

Jillian touches her arm gently, trying not to startle her. Beatrice holds onto herself, a sharp inhale the only thing that gives her surprise away. But either Jillian doesn’t hear or she’s too kind to bring attention to it. She simply gives Beatrice a kind smile and slight tilt of her head. A quiet, she’s asking for you.

Beatrice searches for the part of her that’s always stood tall in the face of adversity. It wasn’t always there, grown out of a necessity, but it activates now as she takes that first step into the room on feet that feel steadier than her heart does. The live wire edge in her chest fizzles a little when she sees the way Ava’s face lights up as she moves closer and her hesitation simply vanishes.

Ava smiles wider. “Hi.”

Hi feels too small. Hey feels too informal. I’ve been thinking of you every minute of every day for the last nine months and you’re a ghost haunting all of my waking moments and sleeping ones too and I think I’ve been waiting for you my whole life feels too big.

She settles for a quiet, “Hello.”

Ava’s nose wrinkles. “Hello,” she echoes, pitching her voice slightly deeper. A clumsy attempt at mimicking her accent. She blinks up at Beatrice expectantly. “Anything else?” she asks after a moment.

“You’re back.” Everything else she wants to say sticks in her throat.

“I am.” Ava tips her head curiously, keen eyes studying her. Beatrice wonders if she sees the new highlights in her hair, the added years Beatrice sees when she looks at herself in the mirror. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting a party, or anything. Maybe a banner or a cupcake. Though, I get that it was kind of an impromptu arrival and there wasn’t a lot of time to plan. I mean, it’s not like you guys have a ‘Welcome Back to Earth’ banner on hand, right?” She pauses again. “I was expecting more than hello, though.”

Restraint, Beatrice, her mother used to tell her. Show some restraint. When she spoke out of turn, became too excited - it was always whip-sharp eyes in her direction, reminding her to practice some self-discipline. Ava, on the other end of the long spectrum between what is expected and what isn’t, is the least restrained person Beatrice has ever met.

Beatrice, months separated from Ava’s influence, struggles to find a middle ground.

“Seriously.” Ava laughs. She sounds nervous. “They didn’t, like, replace you with a pod person or anything, did they?” Her eyes widen. “Is this some kind of alternate reality where people are different? Are you really Beatrice? Or are you her evil twin? Is this world run by toads? I had a dream once where there was a toad king who demanded we all speak in ribbits. Or is it croaks? Hey, can you look up the sound toads make? I think I missed that science lesson.”

“Ava,” Beatrice breathes. Fond exasperation is easy to fall into.

Ava grins rakishly. “Ah, there she is.”

Beatrice opens her mouth to scold her, to tell Ava that she’s not as funny as she thinks she is, but she’s horrified when a single sob loosens from somewhere in the back of her throat and explodes into the space between them.

They both look startled at the sound, but Ava recovers quicker than she does. She curses softly when she tries to move, wires tangling up around her wrists. She starts to try and move them out of her way, her legs swinging over the side of the bed as she starts to inch towards Beatrice. She looks up, forehead pulled together in frustration. “Hold- just hold on.”

Beatrice claps her hand down over her mouth, trying to stop the next horrible sound that comes out of it. She holds out her other hand, trying to tell Ava to stay back. No, no, no. This isn’t how this was supposed to go.

Ava curses again, louder and in Portuguese this time, as another wire comes undone and loops its way around her arm instead. “I swear to fucking God and all her shitty decisions that if this thing doesn’t- Ha!” She wiggles out of one wire, then a second. She smiles triumphantly at Beatrice but that wrinkle in her forehead hasn’t faded away.

Something starts beeping as Ava disconnects the next wire. There’s a moment where they both stand, suspended as they wait for Ava to suddenly collapse onto the floor, that one wire the only thing keeping her up. But nothing comes and Ava must decide that it’s the all-clear; she starts pulling at wires until they disconnect, creating a cacophony of noise that feels like a mis-paced symphony.

“Hold on, hold on,” Ava is muttering as she pulls the last wire free. She’s suddenly in front of Beatrice, hands out in front of her carefully. “Hey, Bea.”

Beatrice’s eyes dart around the room. It’s starting to narrow to a pinprick, the lights spinning around. Ava is the only thing staying still, her focal part as the rest of the room rushes in on her. Another sob starts to build in her throat but it gets stuck there, forming into a hard knot that makes it hard to swallow around.

Breathe, she tells herself. Just take a breath.

“Look at me. Just breathe,” Ava says quietly. She takes a hesitant step forward. “I think- Bea, I think you’re having a panic attack.”

Beatrice tries to shake her head. She tries, but she’s not sure that she does. Her body feels far away, like she’s swimming underwater from one end of an endless pool to the other. The beeping of the machines distorts into a heartbeat, but that might just be the blood rushing in her ears. She tries to inhale and chokes on that knot.

“Okay, just follow my voice.” Ava sounds closer, but Beatrice can’t quite say how close she is. The room is starting to stretch out like a funhouse mirror. “Bea, uh, okay. Okay. I’m going to touch you. I know, you might freak out. But I’m going to put my hands on your hands, okay? Just like… just like this.”

She feels something cool and soft land on the wrist of her outstretched arm. It becomes a focal point. She focuses all of her energy there, all of her remaining senses rush to the spot where Ava’s fingertips curl around her pulse point.

Ava makes a noise that sounds like a hum just under the hot whistle of air in Beatrice’s ears. “Good. Now the other hand.”

Another cool hand touches hers, pulling it away from her mouth. She lets her world dial down to just the feather-light touch of Ava’s hand tangling with hers, lets herself focus in on the soft pads of Ava’s fingers running over the silvery scars on her hands. Each brush against her knuckle breaks down the knot in her throat until she can take in a ragged breath, then another, then one more.

The world begins to expand again - light filtering back in, the beeping stretching out into its asynchronous rhythm, the slightly sterile smell of clean cotton on the hospital bed. She focuses all of her attention on Ava, though. On the soft soothing noises Ava is making, the heat coming off her body as she gets closer, the strange patterns Ava is rubbing into her wrist.

“Hey,” Ava says quietly in the spaces between the beeping. “Hey, there you are.”

“I’m sorry,” she croaks, graceless.

Ava’s eyes are wide, but kind as they come into focus. Beatrice could count the inches between them on two hands. “You don’t need to apologize. I don’t think either of us expected this.”

“I should have.” She inhales again, the exhale a little steadier. “I should have been expecting this.”

“Beatrice, I mean this in the nicest way.” Ava ducks her head just a little, meeting her gaze directly. “This is a compliment, okay? You are not perfect. You cannot anticipate everything. And you shouldn’t be expected to do that. So it’s okay, alright? It’s okay that you didn’t anticipate some scientific marvel spitting me back into reality. I think I can forgive you for that, hmm?”

“Okay,” she whispers, not believing it entirely. But Ava looks so convincing, she lets the idea sit and tries to believe it could be true. “I’m-”

“Don’t apologize,” Ava says quickly. “This is a no-sorry party. Apologies department is closed for… the rest of eternity. No need to leave a message.” She strokes her thumb against the back of Beatrice’s hand before her eyes widen in mock-surprise. “Maybe this is an alternate reality where I’m not funny anymore.”

“Your jokes were always mediocre at best,” she manages.

Ava grins. “She speaks. And she lies.” Ava’s expression softens and she pulls until Beatrice can count the inches on one hand now. They’re nearly nose to nose and Beatrice can see the thin skin over Ava’s collarbone, just a little more pronounced this close up. “You’re okay.”

Beatrice takes in a slow, measured breath. “You’re here,” she exhales.

“All 238 bones of me.” Ava’s mouth falls into a serious line. “I’m including teeth, of course.”

She can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from her unexpectedly. Get control of yourself, her mother’s voice hisses. But Ava is looking at her, pleased. It sends her mother to the back of her head, back behind Ava’s smile.

“You had your wisdom teeth removed,” she reminds Ava gently.

Ava’s mouth falls open slightly. “How did you-” Her eyes narrow, but she’s smiling. “No stone unturned for you people, hmm? I bet Sister Frances kept those teeth, too. You know, Diego and I always thought she had some kind of creepy collection of, like, teeth and hair. She seemed the type.” Her fingers start working over Bea’s hands and up towards her elbows as she carefully starts to guide them around her back.

“Ava,” Beatrice tries.

“I don’t know about you,” Ava says quietly. “I don’t know how long it’s been since-”

“Too long,” Beatrice breathes. Eight months, twenty-three days, and somewhere around three hours, she doesn’t say out loud.

“But it’s been even longer for me,” Ava finishes. “And, I’ll be honest, okay? I really missed Mother Superion and Camila and, yeah, okay, parts of Lilith. But you were the only thing that kept me going. So I’m going to hug you and you’re going to hug me and then I’m going to pass out, if that’s okay with you?”

Beatrice startles a little, their forehead nearly knocking as she grabs Ava tightly and holds her against her body. Ava seems to sigh into the hug, her forehead dropping into the curve of Beatrice’s neck, her hands gripping the back of Beatrice’s shirt tight enough to crease the carefully ironed fabric. She grows heavy nearly instantly and Beatrice almost sways under the sudden weight.

“I’m-”

“Shut up,” Ava murmurs. Beatrice feels the words more than she hears them. “Just, be quiet, okay? I’ve been imagining this for years.”

Years, she thinks. But she goes quiet again, pressing her lips to Ava’s hair. She breathes in something bleach-like, like the ozone burning. She carefully inches forward, Ava’s abandoned bed her destination. She can hear her heart beating against her rib cage, but Ava’s own heart seems to be answering in its own language.

She starts to loosen her grip on Ava, intending to convince her that she should lay back down, let Beatrice reattach all of the wires monitoring her vitals, let Beatrice go and find Jillian to make sure they didn’t mess everything up. But when she goes to loosen her grip, Ava hangs on.

“Don’t,” Ava whispers. “Don’t let go yet.”

Beatrice holds on tighter; doesn’t tell Ava she has no intention of ever letting go again.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #tw: panic attack #this is just an entire fic i am sorry #beatrice needs a break okay?#i might use this again in a larger fic tbh because it immediately gave me a hundred ideas #but hey it's my writing so i can do what i want #*said in my 7-year-old's voice*#anyway writing this was a lot out of me #i hope if you read it you enjoy it

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nerdpoe · 1 year

Text

TWINcognito mode Part 6(Tim and Danny Pretend to be Twins AU) (lmfao nah they adopted Danny they ain't pretending anymore)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, AO3

Alfred looked up from where he was polishing the last segment of the giant penny, just as one of Master Bruce’s civilian cars came to a rather sudden halt. The doors opened to an unholy cacophony of shouting and adolescent rage, and an almost desperate Master Bruce attempting to gain control of the situation.

With a clatter of a dropped school bag, Master Duke stumbled down the stairs, looking as perplexed as Alfred himself was.

Miss Barbara appeared on the screen, looking very much like she either wished to throttle the shouting siblings or was about to retreat to her bed.

Miss Cassandra appeared on the screen as well; the only one of any of them who looked amused. Well bully for her, then. If only they could all be so lucky as to be in a different country at that moment.

“Master Tim,” Alfred started, raising his voice just enough to warrant a pause in the ongoing argument, “Would you be so kind as to tell us why you are dressed like Master Danny?”

That was the wrong question.

That was the entirely wrong question to ask, and Alfred knew the second he saw the expression on Master Damian’s face.

“Timothy thought that running away from his problems instead of facing them was the answer, as usual, and-”

“-I do not run away from my problem you insufferable little-”

“-Opted to trade places with Daniel instead of standing and fighting for him-”

“-So are you saying I’d able to win against Bruce-”

“-Now Todd is on the run with Daniel at his mercies-”

“-It’s fine; Jason seems to like Danny, he’s-”

“-Perhaps we should let Master Bruce speak,” Alfred interrupted, cutting into their particular version of bonding.

Master Bruce looked like he very much did not want to speak.

“...Master Bruce, please enlighten us as to the reason for this meeting.”

Master Bruce avoided Alfreds gaze.

“B tried to kill Danny.”

“I did not!”

“You are overreacting, Timothy. But yes, father did inadvertently attempt to murder the superior twin.”

“I’m sorry,” Master Dick’s voice echoed through the cave, as cold and as terrifying as his eyes, “Bruce did what?”

Oh dear.

~~~~~~

Jason threw his helmet against the wall in rage.

Danny, very helpfully, staggered over to it and brought it back to him, taking care to only scorch it a little bit with his uncontrolled energy arcs. Jason did not take it back.

“Do we feel better now?”

No, no he did not.

“Jason, you gotta take Danny to the Cave; Dick’s on a warpath,” Barbara sighed through his earpiece, “I’ve muted myself on their side but he won’t calm down until he sees Danny. You know Danny will be safe there, and I’ll take over the security systems to guarantee an easy escape if I’m wrong.”

“Jason, why does Tim wear these suits?”

“Jason, please, just-”

“-I feel like my skin is fighting me-”

“-Take Danny to-”

“-Was the sky always pink?”

“-Shut up!” Jason snapped, only to end up with his own helmet braining him.

“You shut up, you…you fruitloop,” Danny hissed, sounding for all the world like he’d just gravely insulted Jason.

That was adorable, but Jason was too pissed to acknowledge that.

He did file it away for use later, though. As blackmail material, obviously.

“Okay, fine. I’ll take the little menace to the Cave, and I want a guaranteed easy escape.”

“Done. Good luck getting him on your bike.”

Danny struck one of the sloppiest fighting poses Jason had ever seen in his life, literally hissing like a cat. Jason heard a click as Barbara disconnected, the coward.

“You can’t or he’ll kill me! And I’ll kick your butt to prove it!”

“How does that make any sense?”

Danny attempted to throw a punch in response, but overbalanced and landed on his face, using his bad hand to attempt to stop himself. Jason watched apathetically as the younger of the twins dragged himself off of the ground and cradled the burned appendage, before making seal-eyes at Jason.

“You did this to yourself,” Jason said flatly.

The eyes started to water.

“But it hurts,” whined Danny.

“I don’t care,” mocked Jason, “Suck it up, pipsqueak, and get on the bike.”

~~~~~~

Duke was not hiding.

He absolutely was fucking not.

He was just…staying out of the line of fire.

Watching as the scariest version of Dick he’d ever seen glared Bruce, Damian, and Tim into silence as the eldest forced them all to wait for Danny to get there.

Duke opened his mouth to ask for maybe some clarifying information, possibly to learn what exactly had happened while he’d been at school, before closing it with a quiet click.

He wasn’t sure that drawing Dick’s attention on him would be a good thing.

Instead, he made himself scarce and waiting for oh thank god he could hear the motorcycle.

Jason came to a screeching halt, and looked just as pissed as Dick, and Danny was…stumbling like he was drunk.

“Dude, are you drunk?” Slipped out of Duke’s mouth before he could stop himself.

Danny immediately course-corrected to beeline towards Duke, which was very unfortunate because that would take him off of the vehicle pad and into the dark, deadly abyss between them.

Jason didn’t even look over as he grabbed Danny by the collar of his very expensive looking jacket and hauled him down the walkway.

“No,” Danny whined, making grabby hands at Duke, “Save me Duke they’re gonna make me suck it up!”

“Suck what up?” Duke asked, stepping out of his not-a-hiding-place and hurrying over.

“My hand,” Danny wailed, waving a bandaged hand in the air as proof.

Jason manhandled Danny to his front so he could shove him at Tim, who caught his twin and glared at the crime lord.

“You couldn’t be a little more gentle?”

“He burned my helmet and then hit me with it, fuck you.”

“As expected, even incapacitated Daniel maintains the ability to attempt to defend himself. Timothy, learn from this.”

Tim attempted to reach out to presumably throttle Damian, but Danny decided to fully lean on his twin and forced Tim to put all of his efforts into keeping an inebriated meta upright.

Duke diverted his eyes from their antics to keep focus on the bigger problem.

Dick.

Dick, who actually looked like he was slowly relaxing as his shoulders fell from their tense position.

Dick, who now looked much more likely to listen to people talk since he’d confirmed that Danny was…not fine, but would be.

“So…can we know what happened now?” Duke asked, really needing to wrap up whatever this was so he could get started on his…homework. Yes. That was what he was going to do.

“I’m a god,” Danny answered, completely serious as he hid his face in his twins chest, “I can see it all so clearly now; everything is connected and I control all the realms and tax laws need constant reformation.”

Duke, as well as almost everyone in the room, elected to ignore this.

Well, he would have, if it hadn’t been for Bruce suddenly looking very, very ill. Duke supposed he would; the rich were afraid of taxes, after all.

“Bruce?” Duke asked cautiously, drawing attention to the man, “Hey, tax reforms aren’t that bad, you don’t have to be scared!”

“Bruce,” Dick ordered, much less cautiously, “Spill.”

~~~~~~

Dick, contrary to what he let his family believe, did not allow himself to be blinded by familial love to what was right in front of him.

He did allow his emotions to get the better of him, he would be the first to admit that. Second, if he couldn’t say it faster than Bruce.

He was quick to anger, tended to catastrophize, and generally did not have a sleep schedule to speak of, which only heightened the emotions he felt on a daily basis.

And he had worked so fucking hard to overcome all of that.

He wasn’t proud of who he had been, but he was working to be better than that. Every day was a chance to be a better person, and he was getting better about the frequency he fucked it up.

When Tim had left on his date and left Dick with Danny, Dick had been able to read the excitement and nervousness in the younger twin like an open book. He’d also taken note that Danny did not seem as able to hide his emotions as Tim, and okay, maybe he’d taken advantage of that.

He would blame the cop in him if he didn’t know for sure it was the Bat.

It wasn’t that Danny wasn’t as smart as Tim, it was just that Danny wasn’t as crime-oriented as Tim. Danny wasn’t constantly on guard or gathering information or reading people’s body language. He didn’t have to.

Danny, Dick discovered within five minutes of Tim leaving, loved engineering and space and hyperfixated on the topics just like Tim hyperfixated on cases.

Honestly, they hadn’t even watched the movie right away; Danny had let slip that he wanted glow-in-the-dark stars and Dick had pulled up all open toy stores on his phone.

Danny, Dick discovered, gave away information he did not mean when he was lecturing about something he was obsessive over.

So Dick had gotten a ladder, let Danny ‘forget’ he could fly so that his little brother could order him around, and set about decorating the ceiling with every single constellation Danny could pull from memory. In between placing the stars, he’d ask small, inconsequential questions. Questions Tim would never answer, but Danny was so distracted and unsuspecting that he answered them right away.

The thing that stuck out to Dick, immediately, was the way Danny worded things.

“Because ever since we’ve been introduced, we’ve literally never hung out,” Danny had said.

“Do you have anything else to say?” Tim had asked.

Danny kept commenting how he’d never known XYZ about Dick, that Dick had never told him about whatever story Dick was regaling him with, informing Dick about whether or not he liked or disliked something, and just…acting like he’d never met Dick before, and was doing everything but outright saying it.

The most damning evidence Dick managed to gather, however, was how Danny would pause before being introduced to a snack. Like he didn’t know if he would like it or not, like it was new to him.

So Dick chose a movie he’d seen a million times before, something he could easily pretend to watch while he compiled what he’d found out in his head.

It was an old movie, a cult classic, and the attention Danny was giving it indicated that he’d never even heard of it before.

So.

Danny was a clone, then.

If he had been an alternate version of Tim, he would have known some things about Dick’s personal tastes, and if he had been Tim’s twin from a different dimension, then at least some of the things they’d talked about would have overlapped.

But it was all new to him.

That left cloning.

Danny looked nothing like Kon, and Dick was certain that he and Superman had successfully shredded Tim’s cloning lab, soTim and Luthor were out.

But Tim had a lot of enemies.

The issue was finding out which one…

Tim’s spleen.

That would have been a good source of DNA material, and only one person had both the remains of Tim’s organ and the money to afford a cloning operation.

Ra’s Al Fucking Ghul.

It wasn’t enough that the freak was chasing his little brother’s skirts, he’d resorted to creating his own version of Tim to play with.

And Tim had gotten him away, without reaching out to the family for help. Again.

It would match Danny’s cover story about being deep cover, but it snagged on one thing.

Why hadn’t Tim taken Danny out with him when he’d infiltrated the League to get Bruce back?

So Danny had been in the League, and if he was a clone then that would explain…well, everything.

Dick watched Danny through the corner of his eye, noticing for the first time what his small fidgets were for.

Lightly rubbing fingers on rough surfaces, check. Reaching up to touch a specific area of his face, check. The small undercurrent of fear that would rise when the movie slowed, check. Deep, controlled breaths when the movie touched on certain subject, check. Slowly but surely burrowing his way into his oversized hoodie until the only skin visible was his face, check.

All pointed towards grounding himself, all pointed towards previous trauma.

Dick decided to ask for confirmation, without asking for confirmation.

“Man, I forgot how cheesy this movie could be,” he chuckled, leaning further into the couch, “Real assassins don’t move like that.”

Danny snorted, nodding in agreement.

“Way too many useless moves; they’d get seriously punished for the excess time it took.”

Yup.

Yup yup yup.

That was the League speaking.

And from how Danny had tensed his shoulders, how that flash of fear had briefly shown in his eyes, that was also experience speaking.

Dick had thought he’d protected Tim from Ra’s, but apparently Ra’s had found a workaround.

Dick wasn’t worried about brainwashing; that would have been the first thing Tim dealt with.

Tim had taken this clone, cleaned him up, gotten him on his feet, and declared him his twin, and okay; that was their choice, and if that was what they wanted their identities to be, then that was what they were. They wanted to play a prank on the family? Fine, Dick didn’t have any issue with it.

He was thrilled to have another brother, if he was honest. Especially one insistent on being a civilian; that was one less sibling he had to worry about on his patrols.

What he did have an issue with, however, was that Ra’s had managed to traumatize one of his little brothers, and had done it with Dick none the wiser.

By the time the movie had ended, Dick had worked himself up too much about it, and could feel the explosive outburst teasing the edge of his mind.

So he’d all but run from the penthouse, and crime in Gotham that night feared Nightwing far more than it did Batman.

Presently, he could feel the explosion that had been building ease back as he watched Danny make a nuisance of himself to his twin. He watched them for another moment, before turning his attention to Bruce.

Bruce, who looked like he knew something, but clearly had made a move without knowing everything.

All this talk about Bruce trying to kill Danny was making Dick consider putting that same fear he’d put into the criminal underbelly of Gotham that night into his father.

“Bruce,” he ordered, fighting to keep his voice level, “Spill.”

~~~~~~

Damian used Timothy as a distraction, grabbing Daniel’s hand and ensuring that its bandage was not removed or knocked loose. It was not going well; the hand was occasionally sparking and Daniel kept trying to pull it away.

Daniel only stopped trying to squirm away when he realized it was Damian who was touching him, whereupon he took it upon himself to transfer his weight from Timothy to Damian with a cry of “El-witwaat!”.

Damian used the momentum to make Daniel sit, allowing for the undamaged hand to wrap around him in exchange for free access to the injured hand.

He finally managed to re-tighten the slightly-burned bandage in time to listen to Father’s lackluster explanation.

“I was under the wrongful impression that Danny was from another dimension, and wanted to send him back so that his version of Bruce would not worry,” he started, laying out the most relevant facts and keeping his hands at his sides and his stance non-threatening, “I was unaware I was implying that I would send him to his death; I will no longer be pursuing that course of action.”

There was an unimpressed silence from Richard, before he spoke but a single word.

“Clone.”

Damian heard Father let out a soft exclamation, but tuned him out to look down at the twin plastered to his front.

Damian went over their past interactions, the way that Daniel had worded things, how Daniel interacted with the world; and Damian was surprised that Daniel had gone out of his way to never once lie to Damian, personally. Certainly, he’d lied to the others to keep the charade going, but everything with Damian had been worded so carefully that it had never strayed out of the realm of truth.

Damian did not feel betrayed by this.

He felt relieved.

He did not have to walk on eggshells, wondering if his current actions would stay on track for past actions. He no longer felt that he had to outdo a past version of himself that he could not recall.

Damian would begrudgingly grant that Timothy’s idea was an excellent training exercise in jumping to wrong conclusions, or accepting the facts presented before him without question.

The youngest Wayne turned to glare at Timothy even as the older twin-progenitor? Twin. Damian could see them as nothing else-attempted to console Daniel.

“Do you intend to throw him away, now that you’ve utilized him as a tool for your test?”

Timothy had always been against Damian, and Damian had always been against Timothy. They had a history of fighting each other, and were more likely to draw blood than to agree on something.

But Damian had never seen the look of hatred on Timothy’s face that his brother directed at him after he asked that question.

Good.

“He’s my twin, I don’t care where he came from-”

“-Good, then we actually agree on something for once,” Damian interrupted, not wishing to hear whatever monologue the buffoon was about to prattle on about.

Daniel was his brother, and the only brother he had a normal relationship with.

Luck was with Timothy, as Damian had been fully prepared to fight to keep it that way, and thought that Timothy could stand to gain a few more holes in his body.

~~~~~~

Bruce took in the scene in front of him.

Danny was coddling Damian, who was mother-henning over Danny in his own way. Tim hovered over them both, unsure of how to handle himself since his twin had attached himself to their youngest.

Jason had turned on his heel and marched towards the stairs, presumably to raid the kitchen, Dick had collapsed into a chair and was taking deep, meditative breaths, and Duke looked like he was having fourteen epiphanies at the same time.

Alfred stood with perfect poise and raised an eyebrow at Bruce.

“I’m so sorry sir; given that you had not informed me of your ongoing theories as to Master Danny’s existence, I assumed that you knew.”

It was blindingly clear that Alfred knew that Bruce had not known, and that not telling him was payback for Bruce not including Alfred in his research.

Barbara had chewed them out for lack of communication, and she had been right. If they had just talked to each other, then the massive misunderstanding he’d had wouldn’t have happened.

Fine.

“I also have to report that according to Constantine, he’s acting as the eyes for a god of some sort in this dimension.”

“Yeah, that checks,” Tim piped up, obviously distracted.

Dick stopped his meditative breathing.

Bruce turned slowly to face Tim.

“What,” Duke said flatly from behind him.

Tim looked a bit cornered.

Luckily, Danny had zero self-control.

“Beelzebub stole me from my Lair and put me in a mortal body and now I’m alive again and sometime’s people want to talk to me so Tim put a tracker in my leg.”

Bruce kept his gaze on Tim.

Tim kept his gaze on Danny.

“Tim,” said Bruce.

“Bruce,” answered Tim.

“Isn’t Beelzebub a demon?” Asked Duke.

“Beelzebub is a bitch,” clarified Danny.

“Language!”

“Sorry, Alfred,” Danny moaned, before whispering to Damian, “But he is, though.”

“Why does he need a tracker, Tim?” Dick cut in, looking exactly how Bruce felt.

“He may have been a big name in the afterlife, and people can sometimes summon him and he’ll just…poof,” Tim mumbled, miming an explosion with his hands, “So the tracker alerts me if he just randomly jumps locations. I can set it to alert on your phones too, if you give me fifteen minutes.”

Bruce frowned.

The tracker was a good idea then; they’d be able to find Danny if he was summoned and retrieve him back home safely.

Dick looked rather like he’d swallowed a lemon.

“So you just…violated his autonomy?”

“No, he actually agreed to the tracker.”

“Cultists are scary and I like being alive.”

Damian nodded solemnly, fully agreeing with Danny’s decision.

Bruce sighed, electing to ruffle Danny’s hair as he walked past him to the BatComputer.

He had a PR shitshow to navigate, and Danny needed to sleep off the morphine before he made Duke’s head explode.

“So one of my brothers is a prophet?!”

Too late, it seemed. Duke was falling down the conspiracy rabbit hole that Tim’s boyfriend loved to swim in.

@terzatheunderscorerima @darkbiscuitvoidstudent @akikkobara @reach-for-the-horizon @bitter-coffeecup @moodycow210 @kisatamao @thefantasmarex @fisher-with-the-morbs @jaguarthecat @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @moonshell25 @tundra1029 @hoarder-of-gender @depressed-bitchy-demon @kisatamao @countessdragon @sara0055

#dcxdp #dpxdc #TWINcognito mode #tim and danny pretend to be twins au #phanfic

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birgittesilverbae · 1 year

Note

okay okay but get this. three sentence prompt: beatrice & shannon; about ava

went off the rails a bit. not canon to tmtl

Shannon tosses her a staff. "For old time's sake, Bea?"

Beatrice lets it fall past her hand, kicks it up with her toe at the last moment, catches it with an unnecessary flourish. "Ready to lose?"

"Oh, cocky Beatrice is out today."

"It isn't cocky if I can back it up."

Shannon makes a noise that's half agreement and half bemused laughter. "Fair enough. First to three touches?"

"Are you going soft on me? First to the ground." She flicks her wrist, spins the staff across the back of her hand.

"You're on."

They're more evenly matched, now, Shannon's speed and strength boosted by whatever had happened to her on the other side of the Arc, but Beatrice's skill is still superior. She lands a thrust to Shannon's ribs, a strike across her back, but Shannon always stays upright, staff raised between them, grinning. Always grinning.

(One must, after all, imagine Shannon happy.)

They strike, block, parry, a partnered dance, steps memorised in long hours spent sparring each other here at Cat's Cradle. They know each other's tendencies, strengths, weaknesses. How Shannon's knee will buckle if she puts her weight on it the wrong way. How an awkward shoulder movement can cause the old pain of Beatrice's broken collarbone to flood in anew, leaving her open for a fraction of a second before she schools herself back into picture-perfect form.

Back and forth across the dirt, strike and match, block and match, parry and match, until they're both soaked with sweat and bubbling with laughter. Beatrice's lip is split in two places, and there's blood dripping from her eyebrow. Shannon's arm had hung disjointed for a brief moment when Beatrice had gotten inside her range and leveraged her staff against Shannon's, but she'd only shrugged her shoulder back into place with the smallest grimace, a faint blue glow just visible beneath her shirt sleeve.

They end up at one another's throats. Shannon laughs first, a sound that fills Beatrice with warmth, and she can't help but join in.

"You're losing your touch," Shannon needles, grinning. "Spending too much time getting your Halo Bearer up to speed, hey? Not enough on your own skills?"

"I'd still thrash you on an even playing field," Beatrice replies, "if there were such a thing as an even playing field."

Shannon knocks against her shoulder. "Glad to hear that lesson got through to you." They're seated, now, on the slope alongside the training ground.

She doesn't mean to say it, but it slips out all the same. "I think I'd be able to remember every word you've ever said to me, if I were pressed."

Shannon reaches up to pinch her cheek. "Oh, I'd forgotten about that! Little Bea with her little crush."

Beatrice ducks her head, her cheeks burning. "Before I learned how deeply uncool you were."

"Of course." Shannon glances towards the sky and her face falls. "We don't have long now, Bea."

"Don't have long until what?" Beatrice's foot slips, knocking one of the roof tiles free. It slides off the edge of the chapel and smashes on the ground below.

"Until you tell me about her," Shannon says easily. "Can't keep dodging my questions forever."

"Your–"

"I met her once, your Ava. Very earnest, very sincere. She wanted so badly to be helpful."

"That's Ava." Beatrice pushes the coffee cup across the counter to Shannon.

"Your Ava," Shannon prompts, raising the cup to her in a mock salute.

"My Ava," Beatrice says, because she can, because by the lake there's no one to hear but Shannon.

"Was she, in the end?" Shannon weighs a rock in her hand, cocks her wrist back and sends it flying. "Helpful?"

Beatrice watches as the rock skips on and on and on. "More than she could ever know. She was the best of us."

"You loved her."

The stone beneath her knees scalds her through her jeans. "I loved her," she confirms, "for all the good it did her."

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength," Shannon quotes, tugging Beatrice to her feet and into a hug, "while loving someone deeply gives you courage. Have courage, Bea." Her lips brush Beatrice's forehead.

Beatrice stands in front of the Cruciform Sword, interred as a memorial. "Shannon?" She twists, but all she sees are flashes, glimpses. "Shannon?"

"Have strength."

The Sword thins to wisps, fades to nothingness.

Her vision goes grey at the edges, then black.

Beatrice wakes up blood-soaked and screaming.

#warrior nun #mywn #myfic #three sentence fics #(lying)#sister beatrice #ava x beatrice #avatrice #sister shannon #shannon masters #fic: nature

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yolowritter · 1 month

Text

A Case of Ladybug Luck: Masterpost

Hello there everyone, and welcome to the waiting room of Hell! I cannot believe it's been an entire year since I started this AU and I never made this. But anyway, below you'll find a list of every chapter of A Case of Ladybug Luck, along with the fic's summary! Feel free to ask me about it, this AU is genuinely one of my favorites! It's really angsty, lots of good stuff here!

I will be updating this frequently with content from across this AU! Currently I have the main fic and the what-if fic, but more ideas are on the drawing board! You can find everything below the cut! I will be leaving the summary for ACOLL here, anyone interested is more than welcome to shoot me an ask! Please mind the tags and warnings for each chapter, and enjoy reading! Summary: Marinette doesn't think she can keep living like this. She never told Alya her secret, and her life is in shambles. Adrien is the only one who has noticed and tried to help, but he isn't enough. Lila has them both trapped in a web of lies they can't escape from, and their friends are all taking her side, unwilling to listen to either of them. She's losing hope. At least...at least Chat Noir noticed. She still had her partner. But when an oppurtunity presents itself to Marinette, the perfect chance to get away from this hellish existence and start brand new, she takes it, leaving Paris to deal with the consequences of her actions...

A Case of Ladybug Luck:

Arc 1: End of the Line

Chapter 1: End of the Line

Chapter 2: Last Night in Paris

Chapter 3: The Butterfly Effect

Chapter 4: Perfection's Shattering

Chapter 5: The Illusion of Living

Chapter 6: Cat's Cradle

Chapter 7: Spotted Trouble

Chapter 8: Let the Masks Fall

Chapter 9: Mastermind's Confession

Chapter 10: Aftermath

Arc 2: Liar Liar...Fauxfire

Chapter 11: Investigative Journalism

Chapter 12: Kind Stranger

Chapter 13: Fault and Forgiveness

Chapter 14: Thawed out Hearts

Chapter 15: Shopping Therapy

Chapter 16: Felix

Chapter 17: Remembrance of Gold Part 1

Chapter 18: Remembrance of Gold Part 2

Chapter 19: Marching Far Away

Chapter 20: Dearest Family

Chapter 21: Burn Our Bridges Down

Chapter 22: Ashen Ghosts

Chapter 23: Liar liar...

Chapter 24: Fauxfire

Arc 3: Tying the Noose

Chapter 25: It's Always Sunny

Chapter 26: Reunion

Chapter 27: Family Secrets

Chapter 28: Argos

Chapter 29: N/A

Chapter 30: N/A

Chapter 31: N/A

Chapter 32: N/A

Chapter 33: N/A

Chapter 34: N/A

Chapter 35: N/A

Chapter 36: N/A

Chapter 37: N/A

Chapter 38: N/A

Arc 4: Shadowmoth's Final Attack

Chapter 39: Shadowmoth's Final Attack Part 1

Chapter 40: Shadowmoth's Final Attack Part 2

A Case of Ladybug Luck: What If?

Chapter 1: What if...Chloe chased after Marinette?

Chapter 2: What if...Adrien ran away from home?

TBC

More projects TBA

#miraculous ladybug #a case of ladybug luck #ao3 fanfic #miraculous fanfic #masterpost #yolo's masterposts #adding that tag cuz i have more aus to make these for #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #angst #like...a lot of angst #bit much innit?#emotional damage #i am not kidding #my readers are traumatized #so am i tbh #details details #you don't make good angst without crying over your own scenes #but yeah feel free to check the au out #also podfics / art / fanfic of my fanfic / comics/ other fan projects of any kind are very very welcome!#to know that my work has inspired someone to make stuff is amazing #it seriously would be the greatest thing ever #nobody is obligated obviously #just letting you know it's allowed #anyway yeah #i have another 12 chapters of this hell to write as of posting #and dear god #nobody is ready for this #just ao3 things #hope you enjoy

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cubitodragon-moved · 8 months

Text

I feel like Forever will be the one to finally discover and intervene in regards to the soul vultures - and it’s not going to end well for him or BadBoyHalo when he does.

Q!Forever is so worried about Q!Bad, has expressed to multiple people that he knows how fragile he is. And I think many overlook that he told Bad that he remembered everything that happened while he was drugged. A passenger in his own body.

Meaning he knows what he said to Bad, that he likely remembers proposing - and he remembers the exact state Bad was in at the time. His language, his words, the tired stoop and how Bad was collapsing in on himself. Bad is coping just as badly as he is, on the opposite side of the pendulum’s swing.

He’s determined to give him a flower every day to cheer him up (no roses, yet), but he knows it’s not enough, he’s watching his friend fade away before his eyes and he’s scared. The affirmation room was a really wonderful gift, and I think it helped - emotionally. But it too is not enough on its own, a temporary harbour during stormy seas.

Action is what will truly bring change over words for these two - after all, actions are what have cause trust to waver, compared to words and prank wars and lies told with a straight face that both parties know are lies.

In addition, out of game, Forever (the CC) is essentially going to be offline for most of next month due to gatherings, conventions and traveling. so getting his character taken out of play for a bit in a manner that doesn’t directly involve the Federation this time seems likely - retreading the same ground is no fun. And Forever has also expressed excitement over Bad’s plans for Bad’s own character’s arc. They’re a pair of cheeky enablers, and they both love their complicated cat’s cradle tangle of a relationship that they’ve got going on - they wouldn’t indulge so fully if they didn’t. The CCs trust each other to tell a good story together, and I think that’s neat.

Which is why I think in trying to save Q!Bad from himself, Q!Forever is going to take a blow not intended for him. An action with a consequence neither foresee. Coupled with the morals balancing act Bad’s got going on with Baghera, I think the fallout of these respective efforts is going to be a shock to the BadBoyHalo core that finishes what his Skeppy-confided doubts started.

Or maybe it won’t. Bad is so unpredictable.

But so is Forever. And Forever considers Bad his family. That’s a powerful force - one Bad is going to underestimate, because I don’t think he’s had many people in his life willing to go that sort of distance for him.

I have a feeling that today’s streams are going to be interesting.

(Apparently first thing when I wake up and last thing before I sleep is when my brain goes off on meta tangents. Go figure!)

#qsmp #Qsmp meta #qsmp rambling #qsmp speculation #qsmp 4halo if you squint I GUESS #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp forever #there’s a whole lot of love and a whole lack of trust here #passion cuts both ways #rp meta rambling #I love collaborative storytelling

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covingtons · 8 months

Text

#covingtonsstory #ts4 story #ts4 storytelling #ts4 edt #sims 4 story #TS4 SCREENSHOTS #sims 4 edit #sims storytelling #TS4 #ts4 royalty #ts4 royal story #sim: adeline #sim: harrison #sim: victoria #sim: matilda #chapter one #c1p1 #arc: cat's in the cradle #arc: try try try

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quietblueriver · 1 year

Text

Right on Time (Ch. 1)

When Ava makes the jump, she’s assuming that she’ll emerge in one of Jillian’s 1,000 rooms, or maybe in Cat’s Cradle, if she’s lucky. Instead, when she bursts through the Arc, she’s back in Adriel’s stupid fucking upside-down cake of a church, about 20 feet from where she took a lethal hit of Divinium shrapnel (totally unnecessarily, as it turns out) and almost died. There are at least two dozen people she doesn’t recognize gaping at her. It’s not what she’d hoped, to say the fucking least.

When her ears stop ringing, she hears feet pounding on cement and a broken, “Ava!” And suddenly, she’s good. Because the body hurtling toward her? That’s exactly who she’d been hoping for.

“Beatrice.”

And of course it’s Beatrice, still somehow graceful as she stops from a dead sprint in front of Ava. Beatrice, who is the least composed that Ava has ever seen her, including that one time she came home early from the bar and accidentally walked in on Ava naked-lounging on their bed after a shower. She can see Bea’s frantic eyes trying to analyze every part of her body for injury, her hands hovering as close as they possibly can to Ava’s body without actually touching her. She doesn’t let herself touch Ava, because, and Ava knows this, because she knows Beatrice, she’s worried that she’ll hurt her. It’s very sweet and absolutely not going to work.

Ava throws her arms around Bea, pulling her close and whispering into her neck, “It’s okay, I’m okay, I promise.”

Ava’s senses are still acclimating to this world, so she’s hyperaware of every part of Bea. She lets herself drop into the sensations, lets everything else fall away. Bea smells different, the normal hint of cloves replaced with something much more clinical and antiseptic. There’s the familiar press of knives against her sternum and stomach, moving with every hard breath. Across Bea’s back below the straps of her knives, Ava feels cotton, smooth against the pads of her fingers and much softer than the fabric of her typical tunic, below that, the tense muscles of Bea’s shoulders and back. Ava presses in gently, curling her fingers into muscle in the way she used to when Bea was tensed up over the books in the bar, or hunched over the cutting board clearly taking out stress over Adriel on the veggie of the day. It seems to work—she lets out a breath and leans her body into Ava.

After a moment, Bea’s arms circle her waist, holding her tightly, and she murmurs, lowly, “Ava.” And Ava lets out a small sob of relief because Bea’s voice around Ava’s name is exactly the same as Ava remembers, the low pitch taking Ava back to nights in Switzerland, when Bea would half-wake at Ava’s return from a late shift, throw an arm around her on reflex and whisper her name into the dark of their bedroom. It was Bea at her least guarded and Ava knew it was a gift to see her that way, relived those moments as often as she could when she was stuck in the hellhole that is Reya’s realm. Bea tightens her grip, and Ava can’t believe she gets to have this again.

She lights up, literally, as she does these days, the halo sheltering Bea in its glow.

**********************

While she’d have preferred to stay wrapped up in Bea for at least a few hours before having to acknowledge anyone else’s existence, they get about a minute before other members of the OCS converge on her.

Or, they attempt to converge on her. The second Beatrice hears movement toward them, she turns around and they almost simultaneously take a step back, all except Camila, who flings herself at Ava and then pulls Bea into a hug with them both.

As they pull apart, Ava smiles at Cam and takes Bea’s hand, keeping her close. She can’t help but notice the looks Bea is getting from the other sisters and randoms (former followers of Adriel? The Church? Some other badly-dressed cult?) taking up space in the basement. Bea must notice but doesn’t appear to give a shit. She keeps hold of Ava’s hand and steps forward just slightly so she stands between Ava and the strangers. Ava, having just spent who fucking knows how long getting the magic metal in her back supercharged by a god, could flatten everyone in the room without breaking a sweat, would do it without hesitation if any of them made a move toward Bea. But she doesn’t pull Bea back, just squeezes her hand and admires the set of her shoulders—protective Bea is just as hot as she remembers.

Hotter, even, as she stands there in what must be clothes loaned from Arq-Tech security, tapered black pants tucked into familiar boots and a long-sleeved black shirt with the Arq-Tech logo on the sleeve. Ava never really thought the paramilitary vibe would do it for her but she also never thought a fucking nun’s habit would be top five on her list of turn-ons either so she’s down to roll with basically whatever at this point. She has a sudden vision of Bea as a mime. She could learn to love stripes. Ava lets herself stare for a second longer before turning back to Cam.

Camila is smiling her biggest smile, tears in her eyes, and she reaches out to squeeze Ava’s forearm.

“Welcome home. We missed you.”

Ava isn’t willing to let Bea go right now, but she turns her hand somewhat awkwardly to grip Cam’s forearm back, letting her smile grow as wide as it can. She feels tears start to prick at her own eyes.

“I missed you, too,” she wipes at her suddenly wet face, “so much.”

Camila steps into a half-hug, wrapping her arm around Ava’s waist and leaning into her side. Unlike Bea, she’s back in her habit, the semi-tactical version, and suddenly Ava, wrapped up in two of her very favorite people, is crying harder, the weird, happy tears of disbelief she hasn’t cried since the early halo days, years ago (years ago) now. Bea presses close in concern, body still between Ava and whoever is out there, the hand not in Ava’s coming up to wipe away the tears on her cheeks. Ava presses up to kiss her forehead, smiling and laughing as she comes back down.

“I’m counting this as the next, Bea. You ready?”

Bea’s eyes are still clouded with concern but her smile grows as big as Ava has ever seen it. She’s beautiful.

Bea blushes.

“Said that out loud, huh?” Ava shrugs, keeps grinning. “You should probably get used to it.”

Camila gently jostles Ava.

“You’re very cute, the two of you. You’ve also got an audience. Are you feeling well enough to travel? Just back to Jillian’s.”

Ava moves forward, pulling Bea to her side, so she can see the rest of the room. Camila’s right. If anything, there are more people in the room now, most with more recognizable Arq-Tech or OCS affiliation. They’re staring at her, not even pretending to be doing anything else. But Ava sees all of their eyes keep flickering back to Bea, like they’re keeping track of exactly where she is and what she’s doing. Ava doesn’t like it, purposefully angles her body so that the halo is visible to them, lets it flash to life and hum lowly. There’s a murmur. Good.

“Cam, who the fuck are all these people?”

Camila ducks her head around to look at Ava’s back, comes back with a raised eyebrow.

“Thought I’d give them something to look at, at least. In fact...”

Ava smiles, decides to show off a little as she lets the halo create a dome of light and warmth around the three of them, now able to keep Cam and Bea protected with hardly a thought. It’s worth it for the looks she gets from them, delight and awe from Camila, something like relief and affection from Bea. The murmur grows louder. Ava can feel their eyes.

“To answer your question, Cam, I feel fucking fantastic. Please get me out of this room.”

Camila nods and starts walking toward the elevator.

“Of course. Let’s go.”

Ava falls in behind her, Bea at her side.

*********************

Ava takes the ride as a chance to be as close to Bea as possible. Camila basically shoves the both of them at the back door before hopping into the driver’s seat. Ava climbs in first, tugging Bea in after her and throwing her legs over Bea’s lap, tucking herself into Bea’s body. Bea cradles her close. Ava’s not actually in her lap, but this is the closest comfortable option for a car ride. It’s not the safest position, but she could literally wrap the van in a bubble if she needed to (Reya fucking sucks but she did teach Ava some cool new tricks) so she’s not worried about it.

As they pull into the road, Camila calls Superion, puts the phone on speaker.

“Camila. Is it true?”

“Yes. She’s back.”

The tentative and hopeful “Ava?” that comes through is almost enough to make Ava cry again.

“It’s me.”

There’s a sob on the other end of the line. Bea’s arms tighten around her.

“Welcome home.”

And then Ava’s crying again, pressing her face into Bea’s neck while Bea runs her fingers through her hair.

“We’re on our way, Mother. Half an hour so.”

“Good, good. We’ll see you soon.”

Camila looks in the rearview, actually winks at Ava when she catches her eye.

“Actually, could I speak to Dora? I was hoping to discuss the logistics of the Arc and revising temple clean-up timelines.”

Superion answers after a moment, confusion evident.

“I’m sure she’s here somewhere but can it not wait?”

“I just wanted to get a head start because of...the weather. Beatrice can keep Ava company while we discuss the details.”

“Ah.” Superion says, obviously amused. “Yes, of course. Let me go find Sister Dora for you so that you two might discuss...the potential for rain. Hello, Beatrice.”

Ava stares out the window at the clear blue sky, wonders how it is that being very badly wing-womaned by two nuns invested in her queer lady romance isn’t even close to being the weirdest shit that’s happened to her in the last day alone.

“Hello, Mother Superion.”

Bea’s voice is even, because of course it is, but Ava sees the pink in her cheeks, runs her thumb along the color, watches it become more pronounced.

“It will be nice to have you back at the house.”

“Thank you. It will be good to be back.”

Back? Has Bea been gone? She raises an eyebrow at her. Bea traces it with her thumb, murmurs, “tell you later” into Ava’s ear. She shivers and makes a kind of embarrassing, and definitely loud enough to be heard in the front seat, noise. Camila clears her throat.

“Right. Any word on Dora?”

She takes the phone off of speaker and busies herself working through what, Ava puts together from key words, is total bullshit mixed with some small talk.

Ava takes full advantage of a moment alone-ish, letting her hands wander, tracing patterns across Bea’s sternum and over her bicep, down her arm, along her jawline and the shell of her ear, taking note of the things that make Bea’s breath hitch and filing them away for later. And, like, they’re not fucking in the back seat—everybody’s clothes are on and she’s keeping it PG—but it’s gotta be just as bad, maybe worse, in terms of shit other people don’t want to see. Because Ava’s just like, adoring Bea, or whatever, with Camila right there in the front, and she knows it’s fucking gross, way too intimate for anyone but the two of them. Ava’s pretty much beyond shame at the moment, what little she had abandoned in Reya’s realm, but she feels a little bad for subjecting Cam to their...whatever it is. Not too bad, though, because she basically gave Ava a thumbs up (a wink, actually) to all but jump Bea and Cam will 100% be giving her shit for this later, anyway. Now, though, Cam appears to be totally ignoring the rearview (really throwing traffic safety to the wind here), her voice much louder than necessary as she speaks to Dora.

Bea lets Ava’s hands wander and keeps hers mostly still around Ava’s body, steady and sure, eyes always waiting for Ava’s when she looks for them. Ava knows that she and Bea have to talk. Of course they do. But she’s just spent a few years hanging around gods and demi-gods and angel-demons whose only understanding of physical contact is violence, not that Ava would’ve been looking to cuddle one of those total fucking egomaniacs anyway. It’s just, after the halo, she had gotten used to being tactile with the people in her life, to showing affection and care with her hands. She had taken full advantage of her ability to touch, and to let herself be touched (or to decline to be touched). And then she was alone again, able to touch but almost always through violence, able to feel but offered little more than pain. Reya touched her to mess with the halo, occasionally, and while Reya wasn’t Sister Frances, Ava always felt the echo of her, of that kind of violation, a perfunctory interest in Ava as the inhabitant of a body she was obligated to care about.

So Ava kept the phantoms of Bea’s hand on her face, Bea’s arms around her, for as long as she could, thought over and over of the casual brushes of her hands on Bea’s back and shoulders in the bar and in their flat, of the press of her body in sleep, of the sensation of Bea’s hair, damp from the shower, when she’d cave to Ava’s begging and let her play with it, sometimes keeping in the braid Ava loved weaving over and over.

(Bea taught Ava to braid a week into their time in the flat, after she caught Ava watching her put her own braid together before training. She brought home some colorful thread, taping it to the table in front of both of their chairs in sets of three.

“Bea.”

She had kissed her cheek for the first time, then, a little overwhelmed with the simple kindness of Beatrice. Bea had looked something like bashful, lifting her shoulders lightly as she sat, “It’s great for dexterity.” After a moment, quieter, “And I thought maybe you would like to learn.”

After a night of sitting and practicing with her like she hadn’t been doing it her whole life, like there was nothing more interesting than watching Ava learn to fold the string into a pattern, Beatrice had smiled at her and said, uncharacteristically shy, “Maybe tomorrow you could try with my hair. If you’d like.” Ava had to stop herself from kissing her.)

She’d tried so hard to live on memories of touch, and it had kept her going. Now that she’s back? She’s not going to deny herself the comfort of touching Bea, of feeling Bea’s touch. They’re making up for a lot of lost time.

“I like your new look,” Ava says as she pulls at the fabric of Bea’s sleeve. “Mercenary chic. You’re,” she makes eye contact with Bea, “killing it.”

Beatrice laughs. Ava wants to make her laugh forever. Ava is in love.

“Dr. Salvius sent some clothes.” Bea had been gone, then. Ava bookmarked that for later. “I couldn’t wear the habit anymore. I won’t be putting it on again.”

Ava stills her hand on Bea’s elbow, presses gently.

“Bea.”

She smiles at Ava. Jesus, Ava is fucked for her. Absolutely gone. It’s the best feeling in the world.

“I knew before we went to the temple, Ava. It was always going to be my last mission for the Church. As a sister, anyway.” She eyes Camila in the front seat. “I want to talk to you about it. But later?”

“Of course,” Ava resumes the pattern she had been tracing on Bea’s forearm.

After a moment, Bea moves her hand from Ava’s legs to touch the material of Ava’s tunic, runs her fingers along the patterns pressed into the dark leather. She doesn’t ask, but Ava answers.

“It’s stronger there. There’s a kind of…energy that Reya wraps around it, but it doesn’t work here. She did teach me to do something like it with the halo, though—it’s pretty fucking cool. I’ll show you later.”

Ava covers Bea’s hand with her own and taps their twined fingers gently on the leather.

“And anyway this was really only for training, for everyday stuff. There’s a whole fuckton of other armor she has for the real fights. Honestly, Bea, it’s unbelievable.”

Bea’s body stiffens for a moment before she forces herself to relax. Ava feels the familiar pattern of intentional breathing against her body. In, hold, out. In, hold, out. Bea puts a finger under her chin and holds her steady, eyes serious.

“Ava. You said earlier that you were okay.”

Ava grins at her, “Fucking fantastic, I think I said. And I am.”

Bea rolls her eyes lightly.

“Right, yes. Fucking fantastic.”

Ava gasps, puts her hands over her heart.

“Language, Sister Beatrice.”

Beatrice leans closer, taking Ava by surprise.

“Not a sister anymore.”

Her voice is low, breath hot on the skin of Ava’s neck. Ava swallows.

“Well, fuck.”

“Language, Ava,” and Ava can hear the smugness in her tone, is so happy that Bea is teasing her that she could fucking cry. Ava immediately flips her off, and Bea grabs her finger, curls it gently back in to make a fist, which she pulls close to her chest.

“I know you said you’re okay, but Ava,” she squeezes around Ava’s wrist, serious again, “you don’t have to be. I know you want to take care of yourself and that you hate feeling like a burden. I understand why. I respect how independent you are,” a wry grin, “even when it makes my life harder.”

Ava flattens her hand and puts her palm against Bea’s sternum, feels the press of leather where the strap of her knives sits. She stays quiet as Bea breathes in.

“But Ava, you are part of a family now. You are loved, and the people who love you want to know the truth, when they ask how you are doing. They want to listen and to be happy or sad with you, or to help you, if they can. It is not weak to let yourself be loved that way. I know this must feel a bit like the pot calling the kettle black. I promise I am working on letting myself be loved, too.” Bea smiles softly at her, her eyes growing wet, and Ava traces her hand up her neck, to her cheek. “You helped me understand that I might be worth loving, Ava, for myself.”

“Beatrice.”

Bea turns her face into Ava’s palm and presses her lips to the skin she finds. Ava’s body lights up.

“The point being, we all want you to actually feel fucking fantastic, and we don’t need you to pretend when you aren’t.”

Ava notices suddenly that the van is actually silent. Camila is no longer half-yelling at a sister in alternating languages. She is instead quietly driving, hands at ten and two, knuckles white on the wheel. Bea has noticed, too, is watching Camila quietly. Cam is the one who speaks next.

“I haven’t been listening. I swear. But Dora had to go and I’m waiting on someone to call back to confirm a transport plan for the Arc so I just happened to hear...”

“It’s okay, Camila.” Two voices at once. Cam makes eye contact in the rearview.

“She’s right, Ava. You’re our family. We love you. You don’t have to be okay for us to love you. We want to listen. We want to help.”

Ava sighs, leans up to grab Cam’s shoulder and squeeze before settling back into Bea, pressing a light kiss to her cheek.

“I...am going to need some help. I know that. But also I’m okay. It’s complicated.”

“It’s allowed to be complicated,” Bea says, intentionally loud enough for Camila now. Camila nods.

“I do want to talk about it. I really do. But first I want to eat like so much food. Can we please get ice cream? I really want ice cream. Also, weirdly, eggs. And a shower.” She groans in pleasure at the thought. “And, like, god, Bea, can we stay in bed for at least 4 days?”

She says it without thinking because she and Bea had been sharing a bed (in a friend way, because that’s a thing) for weeks before she left and bed had become theirs not hers, something she had held onto tightly when she was gone. She’s honest to god not even talking about sex (not that she wouldn’t ask Bea to stay in bed with her in a sex way, obviously, she just wasn’t right then because Ava would like to have an actual conversation about what’s happening between them that doesn’t involve the time pressure of a violent death or poor fucking Sister Yasmine lurking in the background). But she hears it the moment she says it and, welp, it’s out there now. Moment of loving friendship broken by Ava’s loud fucking mouth.

Beatrice chokes on air. Camila quickly reaches up to physically turn the rearview so that she can’t see the backseat. Which, like, aggressive. Ava didn’t ask Bea to fuck right here, right now. She didn’t ask her to fuck her at all! She pushes away the yet her brain throws at her. Not the time.

The phone rings again. Ava swears she hears a, “Thank you, Lord,” from the front before Cam is speaking loudly again.

Bea appears to have recovered—her cheeks are only slightly pink and she can meet Ava’s eyes. “We can do whatever you want, Ava.”

Well that certainly doesn’t help Ava’s brain stay on track. Beatrice clearly sees where her mind goes because she blushes and rolls her eyes. “What I mean,” she flicks Ava’s shoulder gently, “you pervert, is that we can talk whenever you want. I’m not going anywhere. Neither is Camila, or Mother Superion.”

And, right, Bea is being kind and reassuring and lovely, and Ava is grateful, resting her head on Bea’s collarbone and exhaling, “Thanks, Bea.”

Ava goes back to tracing patterns across the parts of Bea she can reach and they’re quiet for the rest of the ride, listening to Camila loudly and unnecessarily discuss meal schedules and whether they might have a movie night for the novitiates soon.

*************************************

When they pull into the compound, Camila is still on the phone, and she turns to the backseat to smile at them before hopping out, opening the back door for them, and making her way to the entrance, which is noticeably lacking the same kind of gawking crew she had been met with at the temple. Superion coming through, Ava is sure, and she reminds herself to say thank you. Ava takes the chance to press a kiss to Bea’s cheek and begins to extricate herself.

She’s pulling herself up and over toward the door when she feels Bea’s hands on her hips, gripping gently, and on instinct she sinks back down, and oh, yep, yeah, she’s straddling Bea. And Bea is looking at her own hands on Ava’s hips like maybe they’re magic. It’s very cute.

“Um, hi, Bea.”

Beatrice shakes her head and looks up at Ava, eyes still full of wonder, before the panic appears to set in. She starts to move her hands but Ava is quick, trapping them against the swell of her hips with her own and settling further down. She meets Bea’s eyes and smiles.

“It’s okay. I like it when you touch me like this. Unless it’s too much for you, and then I can...”

Ava starts to move a leg and then Bea is squeezing her hips again.

“No. Please stay. I...I like it.”

She runs her hands to the small of Ava’s back and lets her palms spread. It’s almost possessive. (Ava wants it to be possessive.)

“I missed you so much, Ava.”

Her voice is so earnest and gentle and Bea that Ava feels herself start to cry again.

“Oh my god,” Ava laughs out, moving her hands to cup Bea’s jaw, “I missed you too, Bea. So fucking much. There aren’t even...I can’t even tell you how much.”

Beatrice lifts a hand to gently wipe away a tear and glances outside to see Camila at the call box by the gate, still on the phone. Bea meets Ava’s eyes.

“Everyone is going to have a lot of questions for you, and I imagine Dr. Salvius will want to run quite a few tests.” She frowns slightly. “Although tell me if you need to rest and I can handle them for you. You should get whatever time you need.”

Ava smiles at her, moves her hands to rest on her shoulders and thumbs at the dips of her collarbones beneath her shirt.

“You’re sweet. I’m really kind of wired, Bea, but I promise I’ll tell you. I was serious about wanting to sleep, but I can’t right now.”

“Right. Good. That isn’t actually what I wanted to talk about. This might be the last moment we have alone together for a while and I couldn’t let it go without saying this." She breathes in deeply, holds Ava’s eyes. "Ava, I love you. I’m in love with you.”

Ava stops breathing for a second, can’t move, feels the halo hum at her in a gentle reminder. Bea must hear it because her face is suddenly concerned, hands moving to her waist and running over her arms like she’s checking Ava for injury. “Ava, are you…?”

Ava shakes her head, laughs. “I’m fine, Bea, promise. I’m more than fine. God. You literally,” it’s bad, she knows it’s bad, “take my breath away. The halo was just giving me a little nudge. I love you so much, Beatrice, holy shit.”

Bea is laughing and Ava is maybe the happiest she has ever been. She can feel the halo singing, waiting to shine, and she doesn’t want to stop it, but the light would be a bit much in the van. She lets it pour through her instead, warmth and light flowing through and from her body, the still-strange feeling of the glow in her eyes.

“Ava.”

Bea’s voice is awed, and Ava preens a little, because yeah, it’s fucking cool that she can do this now. She lets the energy fade and presses a kiss to Bea’s forehead before sitting back against Bea’s knees. Beatrice is looking at her like she’s the most important thing in the world, and the best thing is that it’s familiar, that Beatrice has looked at her that way for a long time, that Ava knows that feeling has nothing to do with the halo. She basks in it.

Bea says again, “I love you. Ava, I tried to say it before you left and I’ve been so afraid that I was too late. I never want to worry about that again. You deserve to know how loved you are. If it’s alright with you, I want to keep telling you,” her hands move back to Ava’s hips, almost unconsciously, “to show you, just how much I....” Bea catches herself and her face flushes and my god Ava had missed her, can’t believe she’s being given this gift, lets herself raise an eyebrow teasingly but otherwise stays quiet. Bea seems to gather herself. “I want to talk to you about this more, later. I just wanted to take advantage of a moment without an audience.” She frowns briefly in that thinking-Beatrice way, a look so familiar to Ava, imagined so many times as she waded through the bullshit of Reya’s world, that she almost starts crying again. “Although, Ava, I am so proud that I am the one who gets to love you and to be loved by you. I have no interest in hiding that.” Ava watches Bea raise her chin, sees the flash in her eyes, swoons a little. “I still have some of my own…baggage to deal with." A pause. "A lot of it, honestly, but none of it has anything to do with you. I am very happy for everyone to know that I am yours. Apparently most people already knew anyway. I just wanted it to be you and me, when I told you for the first time.”

Ava tucks a strand of Bea’s hair, escaped from her bun, behind her ear and strokes Bea’s face.

“You’re mine?”

“If you want me.”

“Literally never wanted anything more.”

Ava looks at Bea, hopes she can see exactly how much she means it, and then she lets her smile shift from loving to something else, lets the teasing she had pressed down bubble to the surface.

“I mean, just to get back to what you were saying before though, you said you wanted to show me, Bea, and I was just curious if you wanted to tell me more about...”

She’s cut off by Bea’s lips on hers, and she sighs out, chills breaking out on her arms when she feels Bea look for warm skin under the hem of her shirt, pull down just slightly so that Ava is pressed even more firmly against her.

There is a knock on the window. Of the open van door. There is a knock on the window of the open van door.

Camila is wearing a shit-eating grin and, totally unapologetic, crosses her arms and stares at them. “Sorry to interrupt,” Ava grumbles “liar” although Camila pretends not to hear, “but Mother Superion was getting concerned. Also,” her eyes are sparkling, “you appear to have forgotten that the door is open. You could at least wait until you get to bed, Ava, seeing as you’ll be there for what was it? Four days?”

“I liked it better when you were embarrassed, Cam.”

“Oh, never embarrassed, just not eager to be locked in the car with you while you two discussed your sleeping arrangements. I was already trying very hard to ignore the adorable and disgusting eyes you were making at each other. I expect many movie nights in penance.”

She tilts her head.

“Many movie nights with very strict rules about seating. And hands.”

Ava reaches out to shove her (Camila dodges, cackling) and very begrudgingly removes herself from Bea’s lap, holding out a hand to Bea once she has made it out of the vehicle. Bea appears to be holding up pretty well given that a month ago (two years ago? Ava’s timeline is a full disaster) Ava’s pretty sure she would have spontaneously self-immolated had they been caught in that position. She just clears her throat and climbs out gracefully, lets go of Ava’s hand briefly to straighten her shirt and close the van door before linking her hand with Ava’s again. She’s bright red and absolutely, stupidly beautiful and Ava is so happy she can feel herself glowing, doesn’t bother to stop it this time, the halo enveloping the three of them again.

Camila raises both eyebrows, “That’s new.”

“Yeah me and Hal got to be friends while I was over there,” Ava points a thumb over her shoulder, “so he picks up on my emotions more. It’s kind of fun.”

Beatrice says, “Hal?,” just as Camila says, “We’ll have to put you two in a bedroom on the far side of the house, then. You’ll keep us all up.”

Ava laughs delightedly while Beatrice makes a sound in the back of her throat that’s somewhere between embarrassment and exasperation. Ava tsks and pats her cheek before turning to follow Camila toward the entrance.

“Careful, Cam, or I’ll take it as a challenge.”

Camila laughs again, turning her head over her shoulder to grin at them.

“What a blessing for us all that Beatrice is here to keep you under control.”

Before Ava can respond, she hears Bea’s throat clear and a somewhat quiet, but definitely audible, “Only if she asks me to.”

Camila trips. Ava stops and turns slowly to face Beatrice, who is still red, may apparently now permanently be a slightly pink version of her former self, if the last few hours mean anything. But despite the blush, Bea has her head up and meets Ava’s eyes without shame, with a very attractive glimmer of pride, in fact. And this is a fun new development coming about 3 years sooner than Ava anticipated, honestly.

“Oh my god. Sister Beatrice.”

She gets, fucking wonder of a thing, a small shrug from Bea in response.

“Again, not a sister anymore.”

Well then.

Camila has turned back to face them, is looking at Beatrice like she has never met her but is so very delighted to make her acquaintance.

“Glad you took our conversation to heart, Beatrice.”

Ava will definitely be following up on that, but before she can start, she sees Beatrice’s face suddenly shift, become hard in a way that Bea almost never lets it be. Ava knows who Bea is, what she can do, how, even though she doesn’t seek it, she has killed and will most likely kill again. Those parts of Bea, the soldier-in-the-Army-of-God parts, are usually a well-kept secret, buried under a carefully maintained calm. But Ava sees that Bea here, eyes stone and unrepentant, jaw set.

“It becomes easier, I have found, to let some things go when you watch a lying god leave the woman you love to die on a cement floor.”

Well, fuck, that’s a real shift in mood. Ava is back at Bea’s side in a second, wrapping her arms around her and tucking her head into her neck.

“Beatrice.”

Bea’s body is rigid. Ava feels the box breathing for the second time today. In, hold, out. In, hold, out. Ava mirrors it, feels the body pressed against hers uncoil. Bea holds her closer for a moment before kissing the top of her head and pulling away. She gives Ava a small, reassuring smile and she’s back to normal Bea, finding Camila’s eyes over Ava’s shoulder.

“I apologize, Camila. I am obviously still working through some of my feelings.”

Camila is gentle, smiling at Beatrice without any hesitation.

“You have nothing to apologize for. Come on. Mother Superion is waiting.”

Camila opens the gate. Ava stays close to Beatrice, pressing as much of herself against Bea as possible. Bea twines their fingers together and pulls them after Cam.

#warrior nun #sister beatrice #ava silva #sister camila #avatrice

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