#I suppose that I am uncharitable uh

[add1ctedt0you]

Dude, reading the novel after watching the drama is like... wwx what happened to you :-/

[deadbiwrites]

a video of supergirl grabbing lena luthor's ass starts circulating and it's very embarrassing for sc but extremely funny to their friends

(I am SO sorry. Where do these hide? Why do I never see them? How long has this been here?!

Anyways, have some cute nonsense!)

The day starts like any other, honestly.

Like, sure, Kara’s never thrilled when she wakes up 20 minutes late and has to use superspeed to get through her morning routine and into the office on time, but it happens regularly enough that she’s just sort of used to it by now. Like, the sky is blue, the grass is green, she manages time poorly. Whatever.

But she does get to work on time, with just enough to spare that she can make a brief detour to Nia’s desk for the coffee her protege has already bought for her, thank her profusely (with perhaps minor promising of firstborn children), and slip into the morning meeting just as Snapper, James, and Lena start handing out assignments for the day.

“Well, well, good of you to join us, Ponytail. Let me guess, a family emergency kept you out all night again?”

‘I mean, that Abraxian wasn’t my family, technically, but someone’s family, so…’ “Something like that. Sorry.”

Lena catches her eye and quirks a brow in question, but Kara just shrugs easily and sips her coffee, pulling a silly face at her friend when Snapper’s attention moves away from her. When her eyes uncross, she can tell Lena is fighting not to laugh, eyes sparking with mirth as she bites her lip. Kara takes another sip of coffee, feeling a bit smug that she can get Lena to smile without even having to say anything to her. That’s real talent, right there.

Especially since Lena has to stand up at the front with James, who has been by turns cold, dejected, and surly toward her since their breakup (a big, real, final one) a few weeks prior. Lena had said that the whole thing was a mistake, that she should’ve never gone for it in the first place because she’d been right the first time- they’d had some chemistry, after all, but it certainly wasn’t compatible long-term. 

Which… Kara can certainly relate. Like, a lot.

Especially about the whole… James being kind of wounded about it part. That part had really sucked- when he’d done it with Kara, who he’d gone on like, a date with, it’d resulted in him deciding to become a vigilante. Rao only knows what he’ll do when it’s someone he dated on and off for over a year...

“Ponytail!”

Kara jumps, realizing too late that her wandering attention hasn’t gone unnoticed. “Yes, sir?”

Snapper rolls his eyes. “Great, now that you’ve stopped orbiting Saturn, you wanna go get that article started?”

Kara’s eyes widen slightly in a panic as she realizes that she has no idea what he’s talking about. “Uh…” Behind his back, Lena catches her eye and nods subtly. Thank Rao. “Yes. I super do.”

Lena snorts, James sighs deeply, and the meeting is adjourned.

**

“So what exactly am I supposed to be doing today?” Kara asks Lena as they stroll out of the conference room together.

“Well unfortunately for you, you have to interview a big-time CEO. You have a meeting scheduled with her in three hours.”

“You?” Kara asks hopefully.

“You’re very sweet,” Lena chuckles. “No, Elena Watts. She’s a real estate developer, and she runs a nonprofit organization for homeless youth. It’s one of the articles we’re doing for next month’s spread. Contrary to popular belief, Cat and I weren’t the only women with high-profile jobs in this city. ”

“Oh, that’s pretty cool! Have you met her?”

“Not personally, no, but I have donated to her charity- it’s a very good cause, especially the outreach they do with queer youth.”

Kara elbows Lena gently. “You’re such a softie.”

“Mmm, maybe. But if you tell anyone, you’re fired.”

Kara clutches a hand to her chest, feigning horror. “Why Miss Luthor, what a blatant abuse of power!”

Lena shrugs. “I’m a Luthor, darling, I have to keep up appearances somehow.”

“Ouch,” Kara laughs. “See you at lunch?”

“Only if lunch includes a milkshake- I have a teleconference with both boards today. Unless you feel like joining me?”

“Wow, well as fun as that sounds, I’m gonna go do literally anything else.” Her comms crackle to life, alerting her of a hostage situation downtown, and Kara sighs. So much for a work day. “Alright, well, I’m, um, gonna go… see what I can find on Elena Watts. Maybe over another cup of coffee at Noonan’s.” She widens her eyes a bit, trying her best to convey that she’s going to be on Super-duty for a little while.

Thankfully, Lena picks up on it and grins. “You just want sticky buns.”

“Lena, I always want sticky buns. They’re like, my second favorite thing to eat.”

“Oh? What’s the first?” Lena asks, voice just a bit lower than usual. 

Kara opens her mouth and closes it, flushing slightly as she averts her gaze and adjusts the laptop bag on her shoulder. Stuff like that has been happening more and more, and she’s not 100% sure what to do about it. Because on the one hand, it makes her stomach do flips and tie up in knots and makes her brain do this… staticky thing where nothing filters in or out, just a pleasant buzz of how funny and smart Lena is and how much Kara likes hanging out with her and being flirted with (because that’s definitely what’s been happening, even if neither of them is really ready to address it) and just generally looking at Lena.... who is currently biting her lip and grinning up at Kara, and that buzz makes her kinda dumb, which is just really unhelpful. But on the other hand, it’s also kinda awesome and Kara really enjoys it, and-

“Kara?”

She spaced out again. Crap.

“Um. What time are you free for lunch?”

Lena sighs, seeming slightly disappointed that Kara isn’t flirting back at the moment (and thank Rao Lena can’t read minds), but she smiles back easily enough as they step off of the elevator. “I should be done by two.”

Feeling emboldened, Kara turns so she’s walking backwards in front of Lena and grins. “It’s a date,” she says with a grin, ducking forward to press a quick “friendly” kiss high on Lena’s cheek. She whirls and jogs out the double doors, leaving Lena smiling exasperatedly after her.

**

It is genuinely baffling to Kara that people still commit crimes in National City. It’s not even an ego thing, really, since Kara tries to keep herself humble (even when she manages to wrap up a hostage situation within twenty seconds of arriving on-scene without injuring any of the criminals or damaging the building too badly). Like, yeah, she gets that there’s a certain element of crazies who just sorta gravitate to places with a local hero, the big-bads who have their own suits and geek-toys and abilities. Them, Kara gets. Kinda sorta. But the regular ones, who are armed with like, pistols? Or knives? Just regular man made stuff without even the benefit of magic or kryptonite or something?

Why? 

She’s sure that if she asked, Lena would have some sort of statistical thing about large cities and poverty and all sorts of other factors that would end up making Kara feel like a jerk for being uncharitable to the criminal element of her city, but at the moment she’s mostly too annoyed by the fact that she has to spend her weekdays chasing them around instead of chasing stories.

Once all the hostages are freed and the cops secure the scene, Kara departs, flying into the alley behind Noonan’s and changing into her regular clothes before she heads inside to do a bit of research before her meeting with Elena Watts in a few hours (just because she’d used it as a cover doesn’t mean it was a bad idea…). She finds her favorite little two-person booth tucked into a quiet corner, plugs in her laptop, and gets to work, asking the waitress to please keep both the coffee and the sticky buns coming.

She gets a surprising amount done by the time she needs to leave for the interview, having a good foundation for what she wants to write and who Elena Watts is.

Ms. Watts turns out to be a pretty nice lady around Eliza’s age, if a bit busy and distracted by the steady flow of people in and out of her office. She answers all Kara’s questions with aplomb, happy to elaborate on most every point and eager to draw attention to the rising issue of homelessness among children and teens in the US.

“When I was young, my dad lost his job at the auto plant. It was supposed to be a temporary layoff, but the factory never reopened. We ended up losing the house, and we lived so far from our extended family that staying with them wasn’t much of an option. We lived in our SUV for six months, sleeping at shelters every now and again, if we could find one that allowed families to stay together. We showered at the local YMCA. Five people and a dog, living and sleeping in an old station wagon- even now, it sounds ridiculous. Eventually, we got back on our feet, but I never forgot that. It was just six months, but it was- and remains- the scariest, most uncertain time in my entire life, and it shaped me in a lot of ways I didn’t expect. And there are kids and families who do that for years. I just want to help them the way I wish that someone had been able to help us.”

At the end of the interview, Kara thanks her profusely for her time and for sharing her story before hurrying off to CatCo to type up a draft for Snapper (“What’s wrong with you, Ponytail, why is everything you bring me sappy and sentimental?”), which she finishes an outline of just in time to send it off before running to Big Belly and L-Corp for lunch with Lena.

She greets the newest in a series of secretaries (Anna? Amy? Ava? Lena’s really missing Jess, these days, but from what she’s told Kara, Jess is kicking butt in her new role as VP of Operations and will probably take over for the COO when he retires in a few years), and the girl waves her in distractedly.

And that’s when Kara’s day goes from normal to not, because inside the office are two masked men holding a stone-faced Lena at gunpoint on her balcony and demanding… something, probably. Kara’s a bit distracted by the loaded gun aimed at Lena’s head.

“Hey!” she yells, attracting both their attention. They whirl on her and Lena’s eyes widen in alarm, and Kara suddenly realizes three things- 1) she’s in her Kara Danvers clothes, not the supersuit, 2) she can’t speed into the suit now that they’re both looking at her, and 3) she has no plan.

Crap.

“Who the hell are you?!” one of them demands.

Kara… doesn’t have a good or snappy answer for that, and instead does the only thing she can think of- she throws the large milkshakes she’s carrying at them as hard as she can.

Which, in retrospect, is too hard, apparently because while yes, it is both funny and gratifying to see two grown men get absolutely leveled by a tasty dairy treat to the face, the one closest to Lena manages to elbow her in such a way that she falls backwards over the rail with an instinctual scream that makes Kara’s heart fly into her throat. She whips off her glasses, and by the time she’s out the window and speeding toward Lena’s flailing form, the suit is materialized. She gets under Lena, catching her carefully and dropping a bit further before slowing down (because she’s been made aware that when she doesn’t, the people she’s saving may as well be hitting the pavement), finally coasting to a stop about 20 feet from the ground.

Lena’s face is screwed up in a forced sort of focus, her hands clutching tightly at Kara’s shoulders and cape as she holds her breath.

“Are you okay?” Kara asks quietly.

Lena swallows thickly and nods, eyes still firmly closed. “I’m alright. Thank you- I’ll admit, I wasn’t quite sure how to get out of that one.”

“What was that? What did they want?”

Lena cracks an eye open. “Oh. you know, just my quarterly assassination attempt. I think my mother was starting to miss me, so she wanted to reach out.”

Kara snorts. “That really shouldn’t be funny.”

“Maybe not, but here we are.” Lena shifts a bit in Kara’s arms, cheeks a bit flushed from the adrenaline rush, and clears her throat. “Not to be rude, Supergirl, but do you think that perhaps we could continue this conversation… on the ground?”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, sorry. I forgot we were, uh, flying.”

Lena chuckles as they ascend slowly back up to her office. “You forgot you were flying?”

Kara shrugs with an easy smile. “I guess you have that effect on me.”

Lena huffs a laugh against Kara’s neck, eyes squeezed shut again. They alight on the balcony, finding the two men still unconscious, covered in Kara and Lena’s lunch. Lena sighs as Kara sets her down, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What a mess.”

“Yeah, sorry, I sorta… panicked.”  

“I was so looking forward to a milkshake too…” Lena laments playfully.

“Well, then I have good news and bad news,” Kara says. She reaches out and gently wipes a bit of her own chocolate shake from Lena’s cheek with the pad of her thumb, tucking it into her mouth on instinct to get a taste of it. “The good news is, you do, in fact, have some shake on you!”

“Whats the bad news?” 

“Also that you have some shake on you.” Kara laughs, gathering the two men in her arms and hefting them a bit so they’re easier to carry. “I’ll get you another one. Be right back.”

She drops the men at the police station with a brief explanation before flying back into the office. Lena hands over her discarded glasses with a wry grin.

“I figured you’d need these before the police arrive.” She’s putting on a brave front, but she’s clearly still more than a bit rattled, if her too-bright eyes and thundering heartbeat are anything to go by. Kara steps closer and opens her arms in invitation, and Lena doesn’t hesitate to step into them. “Thank you,” Lena says fervently, tucking her face into Kara’s shoulder and wrapping her arms tight around Kara’s waist. 

“Always,” Kara promises, daring to press a reassuring kiss to Lena’s temple (and getting a bit of Lena’s strawberry shake for her troubles) before wrapping her up even tighter in her arms. “Are you actually okay?”

“I mean, my fear of heights has been reaffirmed,” Lena jokes, “but aside from that, I’m not hurt.”

“Good. I don’t like, love people pointing guns at you. Just so you know.”

“I’m not a fan either, for the record,” Lena drawls, burrowing even closer. “Even though I know you’ll save me, it still puts a damper on my day.”

Kara huffs a laugh. “Same.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, until Lena’s calmed down enough to stop shaking and calls her assistant (Audra, apparently) in, telling her what’d happened and that the police would be arriving shortly to take her and Kara’s statements, and please advise the security team to let them up discreetly. After the cops arrive, it’s a blur of questions, and Kara has to concentrate on telling the story of how she’d panicked and thrown the milkshakes at the men, and one of them had knocked Lena over the balcony (all true), and Kara had yelled for Supergirl, who had knocked the men out on her way to Lena (also technically mostly true. Technically. Mostly.). The police are sure to tell Kara that next time, she shouldn’t throw things at people with guns, and also to tell them both how lucky they are that Supergirl had shown up when she did.

“She’s always there when I need her,” Lena agrees, throwing a sly wink over the officer’s shoulder at Kara.

Kara just shakes her head and smiles. Even almost dying isn’t enough to make Lena not flirt with her. The woman is truly a marvel.

Kara’s comms crackle again, accompanied by Alex’s custom ringtone on her cell, and after assuring the police that she has no issue with giving another statement if they need her to later, hurries over to the DEO (making a quick stop in the back alley to change into her suit).

**

When Kara arrives, she’s told that J’onn and Alex are waiting for her in the Directors’ offices. She makes her way there, waving to the agents and scientists she knows. But it’s very weird, because every time one of them sees her, they start giggling before quickly hurrying off in the opposite direction. Like, literally everyone is whispering and pointing and giggling, and it’s giving Kara such visceral flashbacks to high school that it’s all she can do to not check her cape for a taped on sign that says ‘Kick me’ or ‘Freak’.

(Kids are mean.)

By the time Kara gets to her destination, she’s fully paranoid, sure that someone’s playing a prank on her, somehow, and that everyone but her is in on the joke. She opens the door with more force than intended and catches it just before the handle puts a hole in the wall, throwing Alex and J’onn a sheepish smile. She closes the door extra gently and leans against it heavily. J’onn and Alex just stare at her, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Busy day, Supergirl?” Alex asks, and after half a lifetime of spending time with her, Kara recognizes that she, too, is trying not to laugh. 

Kara’s had enough. “Okay, do I have something on my face? Or on the suit? Is someone messing with me?”

J’onn’s brow furrows. “No.”

“Then what’s the deal? Why is the entire DEO like… laughing at me? Did someone accidentally vent the lab fumes out into the main hub again?”

“No.”

“Did someone see me crash into that billboard last week?”

J’onn’s frown deepens. “What?”

“No,” Alex answers.

“Then why is everyone laughing at me?!”

“I mean, if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because of that,” Alex muses, nodding toward the big TV on the wall beside Kara.

She steps back to watch the news coverage of her dealing with the hostage situation this morning and frowns. “What, those guys? That was routine, what’s so funny about tha-”

“No, no, not that. That,” Alex clarifies, cranking up the volume.

“...reports are saying that the CEO of L-Corp, Lena Luthor, experienced an attempt on her life early this afternoon. Sources claim that she fell from a considerable height-”

“Hey, she was pushed,” Kara corrects.

“Shh!”

“...caught by Supergirl, who may have gotten a little… familiar with her.”

And there’s a video (clearly recorded on a cell phone but not the worst quality Kara’s ever seen) of Kara catching Lena and slowing to a stop above the sidewalk, of them talking quietly, of Kara’s hand definitely on Lena’s-

“Oh. Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Alex drawls, clicking the TV off with relish, a large, evil-big-sister grin spreading across her face. “Congratulations, Supergirl- the world just watched you grope Lena Luthor’s ass.”

“But I’m not- I wasn’t groping, I was catching! My hands weren’t… If it was groping, I’d be all up on her, and I wasn’t!”

“Camera begs to differ. It’s already trending on Twitter in National CIty.”

Kara puts her head in her hands and groans. “Why?! I was trying to save her!”

“You were definitely trying to save part of her,” Alex agrees. “Granted, it’s a very nice part...”

Kara’s head pops up, and she shoots Alex a look that’s between a pout and a glare. “You’re not helping.”

Alex feigns confusion. “Am I supposed to be helping?”

“Alright, enough,” J’onn cuts in before Kara can retort. “We just wanted you to be aware. I don’t think that this is going to be taken for anything more than it is- a humorous moment in the middle of a successful rescue. You shouldn’t worry about the press.”

And truth be told, Kara isn't worried about the press- she’s worried about the fact that she’s going to have to face Lena after this. Lena, who she knows for a fact has google alerts set for herself, Kara Danvers, and Supergirl, a gesture which is normally actually sweet and kind but is right now definitely gonna bite her in the-

“Okay! So, is that all?”

Alex blinks, looks over at J’onn, and shrugs. “I mean, yeah. Try not to make a habit of groping your crush when you’re in the suit.”

“I wasn’t groping her-”

Alex grins. “So you admit you have a crush? Interesting…”

“Alex!”

**

J’onn’s prediction is mostly right- no one seems to be taking the shots of her grabbi- saving Lena as anything other than a funny blip of a moment in their coverage of it.

He was wrong about the sheer scale. The clip had gone totally viral in a matter of hours, and seemingly every major network in the country has run the clip at least once as a bit of filler-fluff, and almost every major network anchor (including the ones at CatCo, the traitors) has made at least a passing joke about Supergirl being ‘Super-Handsy'.

Which means that Kara is very late getting back to Lena’s office with replacement food. But like, she’s been busy, okay? It’s not like she’s avoiding Lena, or something, because she’s embarrassed- which she isn’t, because she didn’t do anything bad or wrong and-

Anyways, it’s well past sunset by the time Kara gets to Lena’s office door again. She hesitates outside it for just a moment before shouldering the door open and knocking tentatively.

Lena’s attention jerks from whatever she’d been absorbed in to Kara, and a relieved smile blooms across her face. “Hey there.”

Kara finds herself equally relieved to not experience a repeat performance of earlier scary situations. “Hi,” Kara says, unable to resist smiling back. She raises the bags and cup carrier. “I bring grease and milkshakes. Again.”

“Oh thank god, I’m starving,” Lena says, rolling her chair away from her desk and rising into a deep and probably much-needed stretch. Kara very determinedly does not stare at the slight sliver of soft tummy that appears between her blouse and skirt at the motion. “I’ve been staring at this screen for several hours. And Sam called to yell at me- she says hello, by the way- she and Ruby are in town next weekend.”

“Good!” Kara crosses the room to the couch as Lena does, easily spreading out the veritable buffet of fast food she’d brought over the coffee table. “I mean, not good that she yelled at you, or that you’re still at work, Miss Luthor,” she says pointedly, receiving only an unapologetic shrug in response. “But good that, um-”

“I get it,” Lena chuckles, resting a hand lightly on Kara’s knee and boy, if that doesn’t make Kara’s brain go fuzzy and dumb again… “Thank you, for checking in.”

“Of course I was gonna check on you, Lena,” Kara huffs. “Plus, I know you probably didn’t get lunch, so…”

Lena hums around a mouthful of burger, chewing until she can politely speak again. “Well it’s delicious. Did you make it yourself?” she teases with a sly grin.

“Oh, yeah, totally. Slaved away over a hot stove for this- I just wrapped it in Big Belly wrappers so you wouldn’t feel bad about it.”

“Very clever.” Lena pops the lid off of her milkshake and drags a fry through it (an advanced culinary delicacy Kara had horrified her with initially but had eventually become a bit of a guilty pleasure). “Although I have to say, traditionally you’d have to buy me dinner before you grabbed my ass.”

Kara chokes on a pickle. “Oh no,” she groans, dropping the burger onto the wrapper on the table and dropping her very red face into her hands as Lena laughs beside her. She peers out from between her fingers. “I am so sorry, I was just worried about you hitting the pavement and like, catching you in the least jarring way and I wasn’t paying attention to where my hands were and I didn’t even notice until I got back to the DEO and-”

“Well I have so say, I feel a bit offended that you didn’t even realize you were copping a feel...” When the only response is another groan and a deep flush spreading from Kara’s neck to the tips of her ears, Lena relents. “Kara, Kara, it’s fine!” she laughs, pulling Kara’s hands away from her face and giving them a grounding squeeze. “Nia’s been sending me memes about it all day, which has improved my mood significantly. On the grand scale of fallout from assassination attempts, this one was at least funny.”

“I know that’s supposed to be comforting, but all it makes me wanna do is wrap you in bubble wrap forever,” Kara informs her.

“Pass on that. But seriously, don’t worry about it- I know it wasn’t on purpose- unfortunately for me, you’re too noble to do something like that,” Lena laments playfully.

And whether it’s the knowledge that Lena is not, in fact, upset, the overall weirdness that has been this day, or this delicious burger fueling it, Kara feels a bit emboldened. “Hey Lena…”

“Yes?”

“What if I wanted to grab your butt? Just, y’know, as a hypothetical. For future reference.”

Lena quirks a brow at her, fighting a smile as she contemplates this. “Hmm. Strictly hypothetically?”

Kara scoots a bit closer on the couch. “Sure.”

 “Well, you’ve already bought me dinner…”

“And lunch, technically. Even if I gave it to the bad guys.”

“True. Plus you saved my life, so that gets you some points, probably.”

Kara pauses in her sly scooching. “Oh, hey, wait, no, that’s not-” 

“Kidding, Kara. I know you’d never use that to your advantage. I, however, have determined that strong moral fibre and nobility do, in fact, earn you more points, which is my choice on the matter and you get absolutely no say in it.”

“Oh. Um, alright, I think.”

Lena stares off into the middle distance, tapping her forefinger thoughtfully against her chin. Finally she shrugs. “Yes, I think you’re fulfilled the prerequisites for a bit of grab-ass today.”

Kara snorts, Lena laughs, and soon enough Kara takes her up on the offer.

**

“Hey Kara, remember that time you grabbed Lena’s ass and it made international news?” Nia asks around a mouthful of mushu pork.

“You mean last week? Yes, I remember,” Kara drawls. Beside her/halfway sitting on her lap, Lena snorts.

“That was the best.”

Alex glares. “Um, excuse you, no. No it was not. I had to sift through so much thirsting over my sister on like, every social media platform. It was the worst day of my life.”

Brainy’s brow furrows. “Surely that cannot be correct, Alex. Statistically speaking-”

Alex holds up a hand, cutting him off. “Trauma can’t be measured, Brainy.”

Kelly chuckles and presses a consoling kiss to Alex’s cheek, and it makes the tough agent melt into a doe-eyed puddle of mush that Kara snorts. And she says they’re gross... Kara sneaks a glance at Lena from the corner of her eye, and she catches Lena looking at her. She leans close and jostles her gently as she drops her head onto Lena’ shoulder. “We’re never gonna live that down, are we?”

“Probably not.”

“We have the worst friends.” When this elicits nothing but a chuckle, Kara tips her head back to see Lena still looking at her, a soft smile playing at her mouth and shining in her eyes. And like, this whole thing they’re doing is new, with the kissing and the actual dates and the... everything else. But the thing where Kara catches Lena looking at her and she doesn’t look away? That freakin’ knocks her out, every single time. “Hey,” she manages.

Lena grins down at her. “Hi.”

So yeah. Maybe the initial circumstances weren’t ideal, and she doesn’t love the mockery that’s been heaped upon her by all of her friends and loved ones (including Winn, who’d sent a missive from the future that literally just said ‘LOL’). But the fact is, Kara muses as she surges up just enough to kiss the corner of Lena’s mouth, that she doesn’t regret a thing.

[screaming-towards-apotheosis]

hi! so i just finished rereading Nine minutes (27 seconds) and i really can't get enough. it seemed like you'd put some thought into the worldbuilding are there any other details you'd be willing to share??

Ahhh, thank you!!! ❤❤❤ the world building in that one was the kind where I'd write an off hand comment and then extrapolate from that, editing as I went along rather than otting out the setting before I started to write, so I am so glad it has worked for you!

Claude has the nagging *is this because I am a sub* thought in his head about a lot of things, even though they happened in our reality as well, because that's how it is under the domniarchy. Subs in the show aren't a *new* thing, but we all know how glacial the nhl is about change so...

In Juniors, Claude's experience would have been with the staff managing all the players' dynamic needs in a nonsexual manner because you can't let a bunch of hormonal inexperienced idiots fuck each other up, that's bad for their development.

The same "don't let them fuck each other up" ethos carries over to the AHL because its a development league, too, and the players are very much team assets - but because they are supposedly all grown ups, things are a lot looser, a lot more dynamics happening between players but management makes sure the best prospects are, well, managed.

A lot of this was hashed out while talking to my partner, who was invaluable for this fic:

"They're still supposed to be developing, can't break them in too soon.

Ofc not all of them will make the jump to the show, but the ones who are likely to, can't fuck em up too early and waste that potential

But in the big club, where they're curating the roster and cultivating the room dynamics for peak performance?

Damn right, the high-value, high-producing guys get droit de seigneur. "

And of course locker room dynamics are Totally Fine and Not Cheating and all the SADs totally Get That, and Sylvie is Just Being Unreasonable About Everything which, no, Daniel, she is not, she is just tired of your General Bullshit and Other Fuckery. (They just had a bad case of Rushing Into A Relationships While Young, Accidental Kids, and High Stress Career On Top which implodes but Danny is being an uncharitable jackass and acting like a dickbag and tbh, I see him as having a history of being a pushy jerk because when he was young, he got a lot of shit for being small and pretty and *are you sure you'd not a sub* and harrassment and hazing in the guise of just joking, so he's got a low key Getting His Due vibe going on.

Danny is definitely keeping Claude in the long term; they won't get to play together again until the following season. Claude having his wisdom teeth out before camp is going to put a crimp on some of Danny's plans, tho XD

They actually get to an one AHL game together (!) During Danny's 3 game reconditioning stint, and Danny absolutely will make sure everyone knows Claude is off limits, even if he hasn't collared Claude. You don't collar teammates of you have a sub at home, not unless you're also taking the teammate home and Danny is still valiantly trying to Keep The Peace for The Kids.

I don't want to speculate about any other team at this time (but wouldn't it be fun if Claude was the first sub Captain in the NHL? 👀)

Euro leagues think the way NHL does this stuff is low key bonkers, probably. So Berlin is an Experience.

No idea why I decided on the Timonen/Kukkonen pairing, especially since there is a nonzero chance of running into Kukkonen in real life back home XD

Uh really any specific questions I'm happy to answer! XD I guess also other teams too (although I promise no answers on those)

[pinkprimrose05]

GX Month Day 18: This Wasn't in the Rule Book

@gxmonth

Ao3 Version Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33473653/chapters/83310418

Why yes, it's prompt bending time! Wish this day came a bit later into the month so it was closer to the release date of Duel World ARC-V but, oh well, what can ya do? ...Oops, looks like I spoiled the chapter. Yes, this year's AU prompt also doubles as a celebration of ARC-V coming to Duel Links, and it's probably the one prompt I'm most excited to write because hoo boy I've been waiting for this moment for sooooo long! 8D

~~~~~

"Manual Reboot Successful. Initiate Sign-Up Process? "

..

"Initiating Sign-Up Process. Establishing Connection...Please Enter WORLD_ID."

..

"Response Recorded. Initiating Connection to WORLD_ID SERIES6..."

"..ERROR. Failed to Connect to WORLD_ID SERIES6. Continue Sign-Up Process and Retry?"

..

"Response Recorded. Continuing Sign-Up Process."

..

"Response Recorded. Aborting Connection to WORLD_ID SERIES6...Connection Aborted"

..

"...Sing-Up Process Completed. Initiating Log-In Sequence..."

..

..

..

"ERROR."

-----------

Yuuma sat by the river, waiting for something big to happen.

He knew he wasn't support to be there. Tour Guide hade explicitly told everyone to not get close to the Gate during new world maintenance, but being his curious self, he guiltlessly ignored the warning. Why? Because of the aforementioned new world, of course!

From what he knew about it -which wasn't much, but Juudai-senpai had been rambling about all the different Duelists, Decks and weird game mechanics that they might see for two weeks straight and that sort of gave him a general idea-, this new world thing was a pretty big deal in Duel Links, and with it being so covered up, Yuuma was all too hyped to see what it was like for himself, consequences be damned.

He'd tried world-switching to no avail, as he sebsequently found out that the game wasn't only staggering log-outs, it was also staggering travelling through Duel Worlds for however long he was stuck here. He'd tried asking everyone he knew about it over his D-Gazer too, but that didn't work, and neither did begging a sleepy Kaito to try and hack the game for more info..

..Which led back to him sitting by the river, kicking his legs back and forth as Emperor's Key swayed in the morning breeze, dangling from the string in his hand while he kept waiting, waiting, and waiting some more...

"Yuuma?"

"Eek!" The Xyz Duelist practically jumped five feet into the air upon hearing his name being called, thoughts racing in frantic circles as he turned to see someone approaching...then immediately relaxing when he realized exactly who that someone was.

"Three!"

Michael Arclight smiled, waving gently as he tottered to the river bank and sat down next to Yuuma, who sighed in relief at knowing he wasn't in grave trouble for getting caught near the Gate. The two traded greetings, then settled into silence as they gazed at the horizon, at the clear sky and rising sun of their Duel World's landscape. If it were him, Michael would be content with just staying like that and admiring the view, but the ball of excitement next to him wasn't about to share that sentiment anytime soon.

"Sooooooo..." Yuuma began "What are you gonna do today?"

"Hm? What do you mean?" His friend gave him a puzzled look, and Yuuma made a broad gesture with his arms in response, as if that was supposed to mean something.

"You know, about the, uh, the new world? Are you gonna visit that? Duel people there? I don't know what to expect from it to be honest, it's the first time for us and I'm reeaally excited and also curious and I can't wait to see what will happen...but we can't find out anything before the maintenance ends, and it looks like it's gonna take a while and I'm getting bored so, what are you gonna do?"

Michael hummed thoughtfully, glancing at his Duel Disk "Well, I was thinking of waiting until things settled down before doing anything about all of this. A game this big can get quite unstable with such a huge update, you know? That's why I came here anyway, and..." the pink-haired Duelist blushed faintly "..I may or may not have decided to ignore what Guide-san said about the Gate in the process. Please don't tell anyone I was here?"

"Don't worry, my lips are sealed." Yuuma said, mimicking a zipper sound as he ran two fingers along his lips for effect "No one will ever know of your super classified one-time incident of breaking the law...not that that law made sense anyway. I mean, COME ON..."

Michael giggled, listening as Yuuma launched into a full-on rant about how meaningless them 'closing' the Gate area was. He wasn't exactly wrong though; if it was about as dangerous as Guide said, surely there would be some obstacle or lock to stop people from getting too close, right? Surely she wouldn't just count on everyone to not be reckless enough to ignore her, right? Unless...

Unless the error she's dealing with here might cause serious backlash if she tried inputting a new command that also interacts with the Gate, in which case-

Any other thought that would have followed that trail instantly vanished when the Gate suddenly exploded with blue light, and in that moment, Michael's world went quiet.

-----------

"Unacceptable! This is unacceptable! I have a fucking job interview in two hours, how am I supposed to get ready in time for that??"

Yuusei sighed, running a hand through his already mussed hair for what was probably the eighth time in thirty minutes. Tour Guide's sudden announcement of an emergency maintenace -one that somehow overlapped with the new world's- had put everyone on edge, even more so after they found out they couldn't log out until it was over. As a result, every single Duelist currently in the 5D's World had gathered at the Deck Editor and unanimously decided to wait out the maintenance period there...but some of them weren't particularly happy about being stuck in the game for however long it took.

Chief of those was Jack, who kept pacing next to the table Team 5D's and co. clustered around, all while throwing several uncharitable insults at Guide, Isono, Kaiba, and basically everyone affliated with the Duel Links staff.

"Why do they have to keep messing up every time they launch one of those new words?? I swear, if I see any of those little-"

Carly instinctively covered her ears when the Resonator Duelist let out a particularly nasty swear, and Crow shot him a miffed glare from behind. Yuusei sighed again, then slowly pushed himself out from his chair to rest a hand on Jack's shoulder.

"Jack, please go get a cup of coffee and cool down." He said in an uncharacteristically pleading, tired tone "We're all stuck here, we all have important things to do, and some of us haven't slept for twenty-six hours. It'd do everyone a lot of good if you stopped yelling at empty air for a while."

Jack crossed his arms and huffed, but forced himself to simmer down regardless.

"...Fine. I'll go get myself some coffee and 'cool down' or whatever, but not because you asked me to, it's because I need some fresh air." And with that, the former King of Duels strode out of the Studio, coat flapping dramatically in a gust of wind before he went completely out of view.

"Good riddance." Crow let his head drop on the table with a low thud, raising a thumbs-up in Yuusei's general direction, and while he normally wouldn't agree with that sentiment, the Synchro Duelist was currently grateful for the calmer atmosphere of the place, now that Jack was gone. He slid back into his chair, hoping to get some shut-eye to compensate for staying up for all of the night before...

"Guys, we have a problem."

...Or not. Yuusei looked up in time to see Bruno -No, stop it, that's Antinomy- dropping in the chair between him and a barely conscious Kiryuu, the computer in his hands flashing with several warning signs overlapping on top of strings of code, which kept appearing and disappearing at a seemingly random pace. This, the noiret decidedly thought, peering intently at the screen, definitely doesn't look good.

"The energy output is spiking around the Gate area and the ones close to it." Antinomy explained to no-one in particular, his usually passive face set in a stressed frown as he clicked away at the keyboard "It appears that whatever issue that caused this emergency maintenance has gone completely out of control, and while we don't know exactly what that means, compressing so much energy in a certain area, no matter how broad..."

"...is bound to make it blow up." Yuusei concluded, eyes widening as his mind caught up with the implication behind that "This means the Duel Studio and everyone in it will be affected if anything happens to the Gate."

Antinomy nodded "Exactly. It could be that someone is trying to log in, and that's why I'm asking you to go and- dammit!" He swore, fingers moving across the keyboard at a far more frantic pace when the computer let out a series of long, loud beeping sound. Yuusei was pretty sure he got whiplash from how fast he turned to see what was going on-

-but before he could register more than the word "ERROR" bolded in blue across the screen, he felt a shock of static, and then...nothing.

-----------

"Automated Reboot Successful. Log-In Sequence...Complete."

"Connecting to WORLD_ID SERIES2...Connection Successful."

"Linking with.."

"..Sakaki Yuuya."

-----------

The first thing he felt when he came to was a gentle breeze tousling his hair, rays of sunshine lighting up his eyelids, and droplets of water spraying his face every couple seconds. It wasn't raining, that much he gathered, which meant that he'd most likely spawned near a fountain or a river, since there was no trace of the salty scent of seawater in the air.

Yuuya opened his eyes. Sure enough, there was a fountain to his left, its marble structure adorned with a ring of green leaves that carried all kinds of colourful flowers, water flowing from it center and from the sides. Pushing himself up, the tomato-haired Duelist looked around, taking in the rest of his current surroundings, and the first thing that caught his attention was a huge, round portal thingy that hovered in the air, with glowing lines of blue circuitry running through its silvery white perimeter.

That must be the Gate, he thought that's how I came here.

A bit further ahead was what seemed to be another portal, but this one was rectangular in shape, unlike the Gate's circle, and it was completely blue as well. Yuuya watched as the portal rotated in place slowly, the other side of it coming into view with the label 'Duel School' appearing on top of it. Curious, he reached out a hand to touch the portal...

...only to pull back immediately when the pixels forming it fizzled and crackled with electricity, shocking him.

"Ow ow ow ow ow!!" Yuuya clutched his stung hand with the other, hissing in pain at the contact before letting go of his hand. He sucked in deep breath then slowly exhaled, wiping the tears that formed at the corners of his eyes before turning away from the Duel School to keep walking (and to will away the sick, fleeting memory the shock had sparked for a moment).

Yeesh, that wasn't a great first interaction... he grimaced, waving his hand in the air in hopes that it would calm the stinging pain down But that doesn't mean I can't find something good if I keep looking. I wonder where all the other Duelists are.

The path he was walking down split into two at the end. Yuuya turned around, chancing one more look at the admittedly beautiful yet strangely desloate area he started in. He chalked its emptiness up to it being quite early in the morning...but then again, it wasn't morning for everyone around the world, so maybe it was just that the area was mainly used as a terminal, which would explain why he was the only one there...

Wait.

Wait.

He shouldn't be.

Switching his Duel Disk on with a quick swipe (which was an honestly stupid action in hindsight because damn his hand stung hard from that), Yuuya dialed the very first contact on his list, running the hand with the Disk strapped to it through bi-colored bangs and pushing them out of his face as the device rang once, twice, three times. Where was everyone else? He, Yuzu and Gongenzaka had logged in at the same time, and Sora had told them he'll jump in right after, so why was he the only one to come out of the Gate?

*Din-di-di-din, din-ding...Din-di-di-din, din-ding...Din-di-di-din-*

"Hello."

Yuuya blinked, then did a double take at the soft, young voice that came from the other end of the call. That...that wasn't Yuzu. He swallowed.

"..I'm sorry, who am I talking to?"

A few moments passed before the voice replied "My name is Sera. You must not recognize me, but please don't worry, the owner of this device is safe and sound, and if you wish to talk to her, she is here with me."

The line went silent then. Well, almost silent; Yuuya could hear bits of chatter and the sound of someone fiddling with the Duel Disk...before said someone decided to blast his eardrums full-force, like she always did.

"Yuuya! Where the heck are you?!" Yuzu cried out, and he found himself smiling at the familiar loudness "I've been looking for you everywhere!!"

He winced when her voice cracked on the last word, hand running through his hair again as he laughed nervously "Sorry, sorry! I...honestly don't entirely know where I am yet. Thought we'd start at the same place, but I guess we didn't..." He glanced around for any sort of landmark to pinpoint his position, then remembered where he came from at first and settled on that "Um, can you see the Gate? I'm standing close to it."

There was a beat of silence, then an audible sigh. "I see," Sera muttered at length "Sakaki-san, I think you have logged into a different Duel World than the one Hiiragi-san and I are in at the moment..because we're standing right in front of the Gate."

It took a full ten seconds for Yuuya's brain to register that, and when it did, all that came out of his mouth was a drawn-out "Whaaaaaaat??"

"...You skipped the rest of the tutorial, didn't you?" Yuzu's voice carried a hint of amusement and fondness, before assuming a more serious tone "Okay, look. If you check your Duel Disk, you'll find two arrows in a circle at the top left corner. Click that, and you'll get a list of the five different Duel Worlds in the game. Sera said that something happened before we came here that stopped everyone from travelling between those worlds, and apparently there was a sixth world that we were supposed to log into but didn't...anyway, the highlighted name will show you the world you're in. I'm in the fourth one right now..."

Yuuya listened as Yuzu explained what happened to her after logging into the Duel World, following her instructions all the while. A quick check told him that he was in the second world, the one labeled 'Duel World Series 2'. He nodded along his friends' words, and when she finished, he took yet another look at his surroundings.

"Alright, gotcha, I'm in the second world." He said, and it was then that he decided to head left "I guess I'll go take a look around the place, see if I can find out where everyone else is, and wait until we can all switch to the same world. It's great to hear you're alright, Yuzu. Take care!"

"Hey, that's my line!" She quipped in response, and Yuuya could practically hear the playful grin on her face "But seriously, I'm glad to know you're doing fine too. See you later, Yuuya."

And with that, the line went dead. Not even bothering to turn his Disk off, Yuuya broke into a quick jog, humming a cheerful tune to himself and grinning widely as he started rhyming the tune to his steps. Yuzu was fine, she was okay, they'll find each other soon enough and meet up with their friends, and they'll have tons of fun exploring the game, just as they planned.

Yeah, that's the spirit!

He only slowed down when the smooth, metallic path turned into dirt, patches of grass growing randomly in the way and on the sides, as well as a pair of trees and a few stray daisy bushes. A huge structure that felt so very out of place loomed ahead of him, its futuristic design and neon blue lines contrasting sharply with the simple greenery surrounding it, despite only being separated from that by a ring of gray tiles at the end of the dirt path. Upon closer inspection, there appeared to be a floating label above it that spelled out the words "Duel Studio", and a sliding door that opened on its own when Yuuya came close. The Pendulum Duelist stepped through-

"Ack!"

-and promptly crashed into a blur of black, stumbling backwards as a result. Leaning on the now-open door for support, Yuuya nursed his head with his free hand, letting out a small sigh before he looked up to check on whoever it was that he bumped into...and froze when he locked eyes with them.

That shade of gold was...familiar.

Yuuya's eyes widened, and the brunette facing him mirrored the action for a split second, before his shock faded into a passive scowl that clashed with his fluffy, Kuriboh-like hair. Yuuya opened his mouth to say something, he wasn't sure exactly what, but the taller male turned back to the Duel Studio, subtly motioning for him to come along, and whatever it was that he wanted to say went out of the window.

"Follow me." His voice -slow, deep and clear- carried a distinctly authoritative tone as he strode ahead, and after a moment of apprehension, Yuuya found himself trailing behind. The guy looked like he knew where he was going, and didn't exactly seem opposed to talking to him, which meant he could possibly get some answers to the pile of questions building up in his head, and well, weird gut feelings aside, that was actually a good thing.

The two sat at a round, red table in a distant corner, and then just...stared at each other. Yuuya waited for the Kuriboh-haired Duelist -at least, he guessed he was a Duelist, judging by the strange custom model of a Duel Disk on his left arm- to say something, anything, but nothing came out, and he wasn't sure exactly how to start the conversation, so...he kept waiting.

"............"

And waiting.

"............"

And waiting.

"............"

And waiting.

"............"

And then decided that was enough waiting. "Umm...are you even gonna say anything?" Yuuya asked after a full four minutes, half expecting to get no response..

..but the guy actually rolled his eyes at him, like he'd asked a stupid question or something "What are you expecting me to say?"

Huh. Okay, this man was kinda bad at conversing. Yuuya held back a sigh, plastered on a smile instead, and tried again.

"Hmm, how about an introduction? That sounds like a good start." He held out a hand "Nice to meet you, I'm Sakaki Yuuya. And you are..?"

The brunette's stared moved to Yuuya's outstretched hand, then back to his eyes...and then he sighed, holding his own hand to his temples as he mumbled something in a foreign language Yuuya couldn't make out (but assumed was an exasperated statement, based on the tone of what came next).

"Dear Lord, why is it that every single one of them turns out to be a child?"

"Huh?"

"You can see Duel Spirits," He said, pointing at Yuuya. It wasn't even a question, just a factual statement he threw as casually as someone discussing the weather forecast "and you most likely have a special bond with at least one of your cards, that may even go as far as your very soul being bound to it. Is that correct?"

A few moments passed in silence, and then: "How did you-"

"I knew that was the case. Listen to me, Sakaki Yuuya; I do not know the exact extent of your knowledge about the nature of this world, or that of the darkness you possess, but know this-" gold eyes narrowed dangerously, and Yuuya flinched in spite of himself "Duel Links is not just a game. There are greater forces behind the creation of the Duel Worlds, ones that can tamper with your memories and thoughts, even call back beings that were supposed to be gone forever and link different dimensioms. Your status as a Legendary Duelist means you are directly involved in everything that might happen in the new world, so proceed with caution, or prepare to deal with the consequences."

Yuuya reeled back in his chair, face going white. He stared down at his pendulum, gripping its dimly glowing crystal tightly in his hands -had it been doing that for a while? He had no idea. His head was starting to feel light, his throat got all choked up, and he was sure he'd be shaking if not for how tense his muscles were. What- what had he gotten himself into? If he'd known it was more than a game, if he'd known they'd be thrown in the middle of crossfire again-

Deep breaths, Yuuya, deep breaths.. He told himself before he got too lost in thought, inhaling sharply. Calm down, let it out slowly, relax.....yeah, there we go.

"Why are you telling me this?" The teen asked once he was certain his mini-panic attack was over, and he must've been imagining things because he could swear he saw a ghost of a smile on the other's face when he replied.

"In all honesty," he began slowly, the edge to his voice almost completely gone "I have had enough interdimensional conflict to last me a lifetime, and I would really rather not deal with any more of it if I can. I assume you understand where I'm coming from here?"

Yuuya hummed absently, and that seemed to be a satisfying answer to the brown-haired Duelist, who pushed himself out of his seat and turned to leave, but not without allowing himself another final sentence.

"Very well then. For your own sake, as well as everyone you may care about, I hope you're actually smart enough to follow my warning. Until we meet again...or not."

And with that, he walked away, disappearing behind the staircase to the right. As soon as he went out of sight, Yuuya let his head fall down on the table with an unceremonious flump!, making some inchoerent noises when the sound of some lady announcing the end of the 'Maintenance Break' blasted over the intercom above his head, and he became distantly aware of other voices and some footsteps sounding not too far from him.

*tap*

Alright, so he and everyone else have basically jumped into yet another grand scheme that caused conflict across different dimensions, but this time the stakes weren't as clear as in the Interdimensional War.

*tap-tap*

The thought was admittedly daunting, and he was a hundred percent sure no-one he knew would like to go through something like that again..

"Oi."

But on the bright side, it seemed that they weren't the only ones dealing with this sort of thing, which meant they could easily find many allies in the different Duel Worlds...yeah, if they kept an eye out, they should be all right-

"Oi!"

Yuuya's head snapped up when he realized someone was calling out to him, and when he looked up, he was greeted with the smiling face of..

"You again??"

..the same Kuriboh-haired Duelist?

"Sorry, what?"

Yuuya did a double take. Yeah, no, that wasn't him; the eyes were colored soft brown instead of hollow gold, and he was wearing a red jacket instead of a black robe too- Yuuya mentally scolded himself for overlooking the differences (but also found it somewhat funny because, you know, he had to deal with this kind of confusion more than once before).

"Nevermind, I think I confused you for someone else. My bad." He gave the red-jacketed brunette a sheepish grin, gesturing at the empty chair opposite to his, then watching as he placed his also strange custom model of a Duel Disk on the side of the table before sitting down himself, fiddling with the device all the while. Even the way he composed himself was different; this guy felt far more lax and chill compared to the other one, and it made Yuuya relax a bit in turn, the silence that stretched between them feeling more comfortable.

"So, let me guess..." Red Jacket began a bit later, leaning a bit forward with a curious glint in his eyes "You're one of the new kids?"

A small nod "You can say that, I guess. I'm Yuuya, and you?"

"Yuuki Juudai. Pleased to meet you, kiddo- wait, I can call you kiddo, right?"

"Sure, unless you're somehow younger than me, which I doubt because of the..height difference."

Juudai smiled again "Aight, kiddo it is then. I gotta say though, I'm impressed you managed to switch worlds that fast. Took me a whole week to realize that was even a thing."

He laughed, and Yuuya chuckled with him. "Actually.." he said afterwards, rubbing the back of his neck with a small, bashful smile "A friend told me about it, and I couldn't even use it when I first arrived. Something about an error happening with the new world and shutting down the whole game, I think? Yean, that locked out the switch thing for a while, and it stopped everyone from logging out too."

"Woah, for real?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Damn," Juudai slammed a hand down on the table "you sure had one heck of a first day, kiddo. Guide must be freaking out with all of this going on."

Yuuya blinked, confused "Guide?"

"Oh, you don't know her?" The older teen asked, quirking an eyebrow "She's, ah, the Duel Spirit of Tour Guide From the Underworld. Pretty much the one who manages this place, since the actual owner doesn't give a shit about the shenanigans happening around here, and she also runs the Duel School. You can go hit her up if you have any questions about the game; she's a great help for new players."

"A Duel Spirit..." Yuuya echoed quietly, stare moving down to the Deck slot of his Duel Disk. He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked up at Juudai and asked "So anyone can interact with them here? The spirits, I mean."

"Of course! It's part of the game's charm, y'know?" He answered, throwing a wink at Yuuya before continuing "Being able to hang out with all your monster friends, even if you might not see them in real life..I don't think anyone would pass up on something that cool."

The younger Duelist smiled at that, hand subconsciously touching the top of his Deck, which earned him several happy murmurs and a particularly loud roar as well "Yeah, that does sound pretty cool. I gotta try it sometime later."

"You totally should." Juudai agreed, taking out his own Deck and shuffling through it as he added "In the meantime...would you like a good ol' tabletop Duel? My old-ass relic of a Disk is being particularly laggy today, and I heard you had this cool summon mechanic with the backrow zones- what was it called again? Pendant? Pending?"

"It's Pendulum Summoning." Yuuya clarified, tentatively taking his Deck out of its slot when Juudai did the same "And uh, sure, I can show it to you if you want."

The brunette's smile turned into a wide grin as he whipped out a pair of folded game mats from his pocket and placed them on his and Yuuya's side of the table, putting each of their Decks on the far right before punching a fist in the air "Heck yeah! I'm finally the first to Duel the new kid with the new cards, this is gonna be a lot of fun!"

"Definitely!" He nodded, his own smile widening as he drew his starting hand with a little more flourish than necessary for a tabletop Duel- not that he really cared, what mattered at the moment was that, even if he was going to have to fight again later down the line, he was going to enjoy Dueling to the maximum as long as he could. No use worrying about the future, all he came here to do was have fun, and fun was he going to have.

Watch out, Duel Links, here I come..!

"LET'S DUEL!!"

~~~~~~~

THE END, finally. This, for whatever reason, took me three weeks to finish alongside the other prompts (okay actually Yuuya's POV slipped from me and I barely managed to end it where I did), and I couldn't even make it on time ffs. There goes my plans to deliver all chapters on time...but I at least hope you enjoyed reading. ...Oh yeah, you may have noticed by now that I left some loose ends here and there (like the conclusion of the chapter for the residents of Duel Worlds ZEXAL and 5D's, AKA those poor souls who got a mass reboot error and received no answers as to why), and to that I say...nothing. Yeah, you gotta wait a little while longer to see what happened to them after the reboot. That said, I shall now take my leave and return to the land of Ao3, see y'all on...someday by the end of the month, I guess.

[granddaughterogg]

The day Death forgot something - part 1

Soo, guys, this was supposed to be a short story. Ya know, an itty bitty one. But it has grown to such a degree that I see no point in putting it here in its entirety. After all no one wants to read my long-ass posts.

This is mostly domestic fluff with a slice of life feel to it. Found family, sibling interactions, Reader being both Death and War’s girlfriend (not yet Strife’s, it’s Complicated) as a background and all that jam. Includes my headcanon that War hates spiders, because I find it hilarious. Perfectly SFW.

It seems that whichever chaotic deity stood behind those incidents, they’ve saved their best for War. 

It all started with a leaky roof.

The Four have bought themselves - and you - a house. They did so with coinage looted in countless different realms. You'd always treasure the facial expression of the bank clerk. Poor guy squirmed in his seat while explaining to four freakishly tall, fiery-eyed, fully armoured individuals that Makers' hacksilver (mere 26 pounds apiece) doesn't register as "money" in those parts. 

Most interesting day in his career, that's for sure.

The house in question was old.

Not dilapidated; just run-down enough to justify the low price. It has soon become obvious that it will have to be torn down and then rebuilt to fit the non-standard sized tenants. Poor War always felt so despondent among tiny human doorframes, their pitifully brittle walls and dainty knickknacks, prone to shattering at the slightest nudge. 

You know, like tables and such.

Strife could navigate among those just fine; despite being the noodle of the pack, he’s got the proprioception of a seasoned ballerina. Still claimed that all this hunching makes his back hurt. 

Death and Fury could fit into a human-sized environ without much problem. 

Yet she bristled at the thought of wearing lower heels, and your beloved would loathe admitting that he’s a short Nephilim. One thing is to know something; another altogether is to put it into words. 

Death has a recurring problem with this sort of thing.

So you didn’t make him. This house needed revamping anyway.

And it has been done. After countless trips to the local Home Depot, after summer weeks full of construction work - while you lived in a tent in the overgrown garden and the Four camped under the stars like they’re accustomed to. After amazing feats of Horseman cooperation and as much squabbling (Strife and Death had opposite opinions on anything), the house has been finally ready to be lived in. 

Under the latter’s lead, your boys displayed adeptness at carpentry, even if they didn’t pay much heed to the decorative side of things. War etched some protective sigils into the walls, the doorstep and the ceiling joist - and that was it. You had no idea what those exactly mean, but they sure glowed pretty in the dark. 

The house turned out to have a raw, pioneer aesthetic. There was a rustic stone hearth and lots of stained wood everywhere. You thought this starkness to be rather fetching.

Fury - who couldn’t be bothered to work with wood, but did care about them comforts and frills - made Death undertake another shopping trip. This time towards IKEA.

You enjoyed your first night spent in a proper bed like nobody’s business. Only partially because this was also Death’s bed.

And then the roof started to leak.

It was a slow leak at first. One morning Strife would drag his long ass down the stairs for breakfast, yawning and scratching, tendril hair pointing every which way, and claimed that he’s woken up to water splashing on his face.

„Maybe a bird relieved itself on you”, said Death flatly.

„In my own bed?!”

„Must have been a dedicated bird”, was the uncharitable response, followed by a swig of coffee. (Black, no sugar.) Fury rolled her eyes to high heavens but said nothing. You on your part couldn’t help but titter; even War’s dour Morning Expression gave way to a snort. Strife shot him a side-eye. 

„Don’t you neigh, my square-shaped brother. Birds don’t poop on your head cuz they can’t find it.”

The Big Guy harrumphed and focused on his cereal. Strife slumped on a chair with an annoyed puff, stuffing his face with two toasts at once.

Next time is was Fury who fell prey to the stealthy leak. One day you dropped by to chat. She was brushing that awe-inducing mane of hers while sitting in front of a large mirror. Fury had a proper vanity installed in her bedroom; a sturdy, antique-looking affair, covered with lots and lots of little bottles. As far as you knew, all of them contained some sort of magic. Fury took this whole beautifying thing to the next level.

So there she was, styling her coif with a self-indulgent smoulder when – PLOP! - something fell from the ceiling and landed precisely on the top of her head.

Fury shrieked.

„WET!” she cried out, eyes bulging, hands frantically pawing the ruined hairdo. „What was that, Little One? WHAT WAS THAT?!”

You suspected that the disgrace of having bird droppings touch her precious hair would cause someone as vain as Fury to shave it all off. And to remain bitterly bald while never, ever disclosing the reasons for doing so.

So it was with relief that you could state what you just saw:

„Oh, it’s just water.”

„Water?” She eyed the ceiling suspiciously, both hands still submerged inside the fluttering blue flame (Ice Hollow was the look du jour). „But...how?...”

Both of you glared upwards like two paranoid magpies. Still, nothing else has happened.

It seems that whichever chaotic deity stood behind those incidents, they’ve saved their best for War. 

It happened during dinnertime, too. You’ve just cooked a new dish – garlic butter shrimp pasta – and proudly displayed it to the Horsemen. The twins were already munching in abandon. Death excused himself politely. He seldom ate at all but would stay at the table nonetheless, sipping his extra bitter coffee or as unforgiving tea. You knew he did this entirely for your sake.

Meanwhile, the established big eater of the bunch seemed to have his reservations.

You watched the Red Guy pin his eyes to the full plate in front of him, fighting to retain his stony expression. The corner of his mouth twitched.

„What is it, baby?” You teased. „The shrimps are well and truly cooked. They ain’t gonna pounce at you.”

War exhaled. „Don’t misunderstand me, Little One...” he said, eyeing the dish with comic seriousness. „I would never dare to question your, eh, cooking abilities. I am just not that fond of food with tiny legs. It reminds me of many a thing I had to slay...”

„War’s afraid of spiders!” Strife chimed in, his mouth full.

The Big Guy sputtered in indignation. 

„I am not afraid of anything”, he stated, accosting his enfant terrible of a brother with a glare. „I just don’t like things that...walk like that.” He made a crawling gesture with his good hand.

„Too bad”, Strife licked his long fingers. „This shit’s delicious!”

War crinkled his wide nose and said nothing.

„So it’s about the visuals, huh?” you said, struck by an idea. „Would it be okay for you to try it just a little bit - if you couldn’t see it ?”

„Huh?” War clearly didn’t follow.

„Please don’t make our brother eat with his eyes closed”, murmured Fury between slurping in more pasta. „He makes a fair mess as it is.”

„Wouldn’t dream of it”, you grinned. „What I mean is: just close your eyes and I’ll hand feed you.”

„...Okay.”

Death cocked an eyebrow - his lip curving upwards - but he said nothing.

„Uh-oh,” said Strife. „Here comes the lovey-dovey stuff. Excuse me while I go and puke.”

„And put all this food to waste?” Fury taunted.

The gunslinger shrugged in defeat and went back to munching.

You picked a decent amount of food on the fork, lifted it and smiled at War, who stared you in the face with that endearingly earnest expression. He must’ve really hated arthropods in any shape or form, you thought. Yet he was willing to overcome his disgust. 

For you.

„Close your eyes.” He did, and suddenly there was much less light at the table. „Open wide!”

That he also did. You placed the shrimp inside his mouth with a jeweller’s precision. Strife sniggered.

„...Well?”

War’s snowy eyelashes fluttered while he pressed his jaws together, focusing on the taste. You saw his Adam’s apple bob a little.

You loved this big lug of a man so much.

„How is it?”

„Mmm. Good.” Those lightning blue eyes were looking at you again, wide and smiling. „This was really good.”

„Well then, ready for another round?”

War nodded, pressed his eyelids together and gaped, willing and trustful in that childlike way of his which always turned your cynical heart into jelly.

PLOP.

Suddenly many things happened at once. 

Strife howled with laughter, while Fury’s face became a picture of slack-jawed bewilderment. Death, always the quickest to react, was already standing up, one hand pushing his chair aside and the other outstretched protectively towards War. Who was clearly choking.

You watched the Big Guy wheeze and gurgle as if glued to your seat, paralyzed, motionless, the shellfish on your fork like some absurd sceptre.

You didn’t do this.

Death kicked War’s chair out of the way and held his brother in some Nephilim rendition of a Heimlich Maneuver, shaking him unceremoniously through the coughs until the latter went slack in his grasp. 

Finally, War stopped wheezing and did a dog shake.

Only then you were finally able to move.

„Oh, fuck. War. Are you all right?”

„I seem to be.” The Big Guy shot you a dizzy half-smile. Flyaway strands of hair covered his reddened face.

Death cautiously let him go and taxed you with a somewhat less-than-tender stare.

„I didn’t do this!” It hit as hard as a spoken accusation. You waggled the fork with the shrimp still on it. „I didn’t do anything!”

„Then what in the Nine Hells was that?” Fury wanted to know.

„Water”, gasped War, pointing upwards. „A lot of water fell into my mouth at once...I think.”

The four of you suspiciously eyed the ceiling.

Except for the lanky one, who was still guffawing.

„Strife. Did you see that happen?” Death’s voice was perfectly level. Focusing on the task at hand. You felt relief washing all over you; the Reaper clearly didn’t think that you just tried to choke his favourite brother.

Which was a good thing...your bond notwithstanding.

And out of the Four D might’ve been the fastest to react, but it was the gunslinger who had the perfect eyesight.

„Y-yeah!” Strife wiped the tears of mirth away. „Like, at least half a litre at once – boom! Hilarious.”

„What is so damn funny?” You could do with less of Strife’s sense of humour right now.

„Aw, come on there, pumpkin pie. It’s not like he could die from that. Or from anything else.”

You rethought this statement. „Right...yet D reacted!”

„Death used to do this all the time when we were kids”, Fury said softly, tilting her head in your direction. „We’d choke on anything, really. And back then, before we were anointed Horsemen we could have actually died, you know.”

„I guess old habits die hard”. Strife put on his shit-eating grin.

War nodded at his eldest and that was it. The whole „thank you for caring” compressed into one curt gesture. 

You smiled at War and then at Death. He caught your kind, appreciative stare, pressed his lips together and looked away.

PLOP!

(to be continued)

[bitegore]

being able to catch your fucked up mentol eelness thoughts when they happen not being able to tell that they're fucked up except from an outsider pov is so genuinely weird. like, i'm used to them being from shit like anxiety or depression or random hallucinations which i thought were normal until like last year and those all have a particular flavor, that like. makes them wrong. you know? like you can tell something is wrong.

i got really upset with a friend the other day and was talking to someone else about it, not shit talking them, just. talking, you know? to get the feelings out, because i knew it was in confidence and i didn't particularly want it to go anywhere and it was that or spit my brain on tumblr or twitter the way i do. and midway through my friend was like "uh dude these statements make no sense" and like. i blinked and went oh yeah okay that was deeply uncharitable. maybe true, maybe not, but uncharitable. and like it wasn't even true, honestly, after i sat for a while it didn't really make that much sense, and my friend also pointed that out, but like- i spent quite a while sitting on the bpd dsm-5 page going "well shit, i do all of this but the splitting, huh" and nope! no, i apparently very much do do that! i just literally can't tell because it just feels like being annoyed and uncharitable, and then when i'm back to baseline i am like "wow i was really pissed off and uncharitable earlier but now i'm good and that was incorrect" and like. huh

how am i supposed to stop doing something i can't even tell i'm doing?

[magioftheseas]

Bubbling and Baking

KamuKoma Week Day 6: family & marriage (?)

Summary: Kamukura pays a visit to when Komaeda is raising Monaka post-drae/udg. Monaka is predictably difficult but Komaeda, as per usual, is more concerned with the larger scope.

Rating: G

Warnings: Monaka being on the harsher side, references to child abuse, mental instability and questionable motives in doing the things he does because it’s Despair!Komaeda but like, all in all, not...much, I don’t think?

Notes: I haven’t written nearly enough stuff with Komaeda and his rotten daughter and I’m sorry for that. So here’s some + Kamukura between the events of drae and sdr2/dr3. Still alternate canon because like, obviously, but yeah. Here it is. This was fun to write, especially the titular baking for some weird reason. I hope you like it.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

That strange creep looks like Sadako.

That’s her first impression of the one who called himself Kamukura Izuru. She can’t say she’s terribly impressed. Servant was passed out on the futon, having worked himself into one of those annoying frenzies. And now, there’s a stranger here, and Monaka has no idea where he came from.

Truth be told, she doesn’t really care. If it’s a ghost here to kill both of them, that’s not much of a loss. He notices her staring at him. He stares at her, eyes boring and cold. It’s like being stared at by a doll, and this doesn’t really bother her either. She’s seen this same dumb expression in the mirror countless times. She imagined she inherited it from the useless woman who birthed her.

Except. Those glowing red eyes flicker when Servant murmurs something incoherent in his sleep. Servant grins like an idiot, and if dragging herself over wasn’t such a hassle, Monaka would definitely doodle on his face. Instead, she just stares at him with open annoyance.

“I see.” She only perks because Sadako has spoken, and it’s a low, cool voice. It prickles at her. “So he took you in after all, Towa Monaka. How boring.”

“What’s it to you, stalker?” she snaps. “Are you one of Junko-nee-chan’s cronies?”

He’s lacking the helmet, though, so...a remnant?

“Incorrect.” Quick and curt. Monaka’s frown deepened as he only drew closer to the snoozing Servant. She blinked as he wipes away a disgusting line of drool. “My association with them is incidental, with Nagito being the sole exception.”

“Uh. Huh.”

Gross. Utterly gross.

Servant groans, and then he twitches, face pinching up. His eyes flutter open, and Monaka doesn’t want to think about what’s running through that guy’s head when he sees the creepy not-Sadako looming over him.

“Kamukura-kun?”

She recognized that name. Of course she did. She didn’t let that show on her face, instead watching blankly as Servant latched onto him, arms looping around his neck. The chain rustles and clinks together, and Servant squeezes the other happily.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you! I had heard you were nearby, of course, but still...! Oh!” He pulls away and gives Monaka that sickening grin. “Monaka-chan, this is Kamukura Izuru-kun.”

“Yes,” she said, nose scrunched up. “I’m aware. He looks like dried, disgusting, dirty seaweed.”

“Oh, she’s right, Kamukura-kun, you’re looking a little dirty.” Servant frowns, clicking his tongue as he grabbed a handful of the inky black locks. “Have you been swimming? Ah, we don’t have much water, but...”

“I can provide more,” Kamukura replied. “It is of no concern. I shall not deplete your resources.”

“He can’t use any of Monaka’s special Monokuma units,” she hurriedly spoke up, gritting her teeth. “He can do everything himself.”

“So uncharitable, Monaka-chan!” Servant laughed. He did not—and never really had—scold her. “That’s a little despairing.”

Urgh. So gross.

“It is of no concern,” Kamukura said simply. He didn’t look the slightest bit annoyed or bothered, just more of that abysmal vacancy. It was really starting to grate. “I only intended to announce my arrival. You may go back to sleep if you wish.”

“I feel too sick to sleep,” she spat.

“Oh, dear,” Servant looked worried. “Shall I fetch you medicine then? It would do no good if you got sick and died before accomplishing anything worthwhile, Monaka-chan.”

“Shut the hell up, like I’d really die from nausea. Unless I decided to drown in my vomit or something.” She rolled her eyes. “I guess I can try to sleep. Just talking to you is exhausting, after all.”

“That’s the spirit!”

This guy—really is a piece of work.

And the way Kamukura Izuru looked at Servant, smiling without a care, with that weirdly intense crimson gaze.

Urgh. This isn’t despair. It’s just disgusting.

--

It really was rather strange having Kamukura around, but Komaeda couldn’t complain. Kamukura tended to make things easier. Even when he remained passive and avoidant, Komaeda found his presence reassuring, in a sense. While he knew better than to have high expectations of the other at this stage, he supposed he still found that company pleasant, at least.

He was almost excited to have Kamukura here, witnessing what was sure to be his greatest efforts in raising the successor and hopefully usurper of Ultimate Despair. It was a tedious and difficult process, of course, especially with Monaka’s growing disdain. But Monaka was still here, wasn’t she? She hadn’t given up yet.

So he couldn’t dare dream of losing faith in her.

However she was very clearly and very quickly losing patience with him.

“I don’t waaaaant to!” she practically wailed. “I’m sick! Tired! Sick and tired! I don’t want another lesson, I want cake and a break!”

“I know lectures aren’t terribly exciting, Monaka-chan, but this actually is important to know,” he can’t help but laugh. “Don’t you want to be able to take care of yourself when the situation calls for it?”

“I’m crippled,” she snapped, unimpressed. “Don’t you understand what that means?” Her expression shifts into that fake innocence she wore so casually before. She blinks her big eyes at him, and speaks slowly as if to help him understand. “If Monaka finds herself in a dangerous situation... She’ll just be killed. Because she can’t run away.”

“That’s such a despairing way to think.” He tutted at her. “And not in a productive way. You’re very gifted with robotics, Monaka-chan. Technology is capable of many incredible things.”

“I had myself checked, you know,” she huffed. “The issue isn’t with my legs but my spine. Even with prosthetics, I won’t be able to walk.”

He does remember that. He remembers being impressed with Monaka’s ability to build it. She had muttered something about canceled plans, but had scowled when he prodded.

“I see. That’s a shame. It’s most unfortunate. But...”

“I shouldn’t let that stop me?” Her brows raise. “Really?”

“Really,” he repeated sincerely.

“You’re awful. You’re almost worse than the Towas.” She shakes her head, pressing buttons to make her chair turn from him. “I’ve decided I don’t want to talk or listen to you anymore.”

“I guess we can take a break,” he says lightly, breezily. “But I think first aid is still something you should know about, Monaka-chan.”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend to go bother? Leave me alone.”

He hit a brick wall for the time being, but he saw the twitch in Monaka’s pointed frown and puffy cheeks. So he kept smiling and nodded before waving her off. She does not wave back.

What a difficult child, but...

--

“She’s very brilliant, even if her attitude could use adjustments,” he finds himself saying. “That said, it’s understandable, isn’t it? She hasn’t exactly lived the kindest life. Not that I quite understand what she must be going through.” His laugh, then, is a self-deprecating one. “I barely knew my own parents.”

“Are you really serious about raising that girl?” Kamukura asks, and he is sewing up a blanket that Monaka ripped during one of her temper tantrums. Komaeda, fixated on the elegant motions of his fingers, hummed at the words.

“Of course I am. Out of all of those children, Monaka-chan was the closest to her. And Komaru-san has already deviated from the path.” What a disappointment that had been. Not that he cares much anymore. “Admittedly while I am confident in my knowledge about her...”

Taking care of a child is...quite the undertaking.

“Monaka-chan is intelligent enough to be self-sufficient,” he recalls. “But she is still a child. And it will take years of maturation before she’s an adult worthy to take that wretched girl’s place.”

“Do you really think this state of the world will last however many years it takes?” Kamukura asked, not looking at him. “What a boring thought. It will not be the case. Not with her influence waning.” A pause. “Unless you think she will reap despair anew. The effect will be hindered either way. So boring.”

“Ahahaha, leave it to Kamukura-kun to be a buzzkill,” he chirped, unperturbed. “If her despair is great enough, nothing else will matter.”

“So single-minded and short-sighted as always.” Kamukura bites the thread, and he finishes up. The stitching is perfect, as expected. “Well it is not like I predicted any different.”

“You just like to scold me.” Komaeda puffed his cheeks out in a manner akin to Monaka. “You have a childish sense of humor.”

“Hmph.” Kamukura glanced at him, expression smoothed over. “I only remain here out of boredom. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

“Sure, sure.”

You’re always saying that. I’m not so naïve to doubt it.

--

“I’m tired! I’m hungry! I want Mont Blanc!”

“You could have the Monokuma units prepare it, then. Unless...?”

“I don’t want to eat something prepared by a robot!” Monaka’s lower lip jutted out further. “Homemade is better.”

“I understand,” he chirped, even though he didn’t. “Alright, then.”

Monaka tended to make a lot of unreasonable requests when she was upset. It was always best to just cater and move on, even when she inevitably got more upset with his subpar results. He didn’t really mind. Kotoko had taken to disappointment better, but this was simply to be expected when dealing with a child.

He really doesn’t mind, even when he still finds himself at a complete loss in the kitchen.

“Okay, so...pinecones, right...?”

“You have it wrong.”

“Oh.”

He doesn’t really mind Kamukura’s sudden intervention, either.

“Why do you take on tasks that you know you are unsuited for?” Kamukura looks at him blankly. “It is irrational.”

“If you’re asked to do something, you should do it even if you’re no good at it,” Komaeda hummed, taking the alcohol. Kamukura smacks it from his hand. It clangs, but thankfully doesn’t break. “Aha! So harsh!”

That actually does annoy me a little.

“You are hopeless in this skillset. You should have requested my assistance.”

“She said she didn’t want something prepared by a robot,” Komaeda pointed out kindly.

“I am not a robot. I was made in a lab, yes, but I am of flesh and blood.” Kamukura doesn’t seem the slightest bit offended, for what it was worth. “If you are left to this task, the results will be disastrous.”

“Aww, you really think so?”

“I do not think. I know.”

“Oh.” He steps aside, smile wide. “Then, by all means. You can help. I would prefer handling it on my own, but since you insist...”

Kamukura is already grabbing and measuring the ingredients. Komaeda pauses as he sweetens the pre-peeled chestnuts. For whatever reason, the image strikes him as strangely ironic.

Without looking at him, Kamukura dumps them in the saucepan among others.

“Watch carefully,” He says lowly. “This is how you make the cream.”

The cream, huh. Ah. How very strange. This feels almost—domestic.

“Monaka-chan has quite the sweet tooth, so maybe add more sugar?” Komaeda grabs without thinking. “Here you are.”

“That’s salt.”

“Oh.” He blinks down at it before setting it back aside. “So it is.”

“Hopeless,” Kamukura repeated. Komaeda bumped him with his shoulder, and he wasn’t the slightest bit moved. “We will have to make muffins as well.”

“Mm.” He watches Kamukura flick on the oven. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re focused,” he explained, smile twisting. “You definitely have that house husband look. Ehehe. It’s attractive.”

Kamukura just blinks at him.

“At last that’s how it feels,” Komaeda rambled on, flustering a little. “Maybe I’m just imagining it.”

“We are cooking for a child, I suppose that is akin to a family unit,” Kamukura murmured. “However, that child is not one you feel paternal towards.”

Komaeda stills, mulling that over, thinking of Monaka’s puffy face.

“...my parents were rather absent,” he finds himself saying. “Monaka-chan’s father was neglectful. I wonder if either of us even know what being part of a family was like.”

“I lack the experience as well, but studies show that this is similar enough,” Kamukura removes the saucepan, letting it cool before pouring it into the blender. “Well, this is but a fleeting experience.”

“I suppose that’s true...”

Why does that irritate me?

“It’s nice.” Komaeda swallowed. The machine whirled. “It’s definitely nice.” Once finished, Kamukura stores the cream so that it can chill. Komaeda feels too anxious to just sit still so he hurriedly moves. “I’ll get the batter for the muffins.”

Kamukura’s gaze is intense on his back. He wonders if that’s really just because the other is making sure what he grabs is correct.

It’s true that my only intention is to create an Ultimate Despair that surpasses her.

It takes him a few times, but he finds it. Kamukura quickly takes over from there.

That once Monaka-chan becomes that Ultimate Despair, from there I expect a true radiant hope to appear.

Komaeda watches as Kamukura mixes, putting that Ultimate Pastry Chef talent to good use.

And once that happens...

Kamukura pours them in the cups. And he puts them in the oven.

Once that happens...

There’s a sweet smell in the air. It’s rather warm, and yet, Komaeda’s arms wrap around himself tightly.

What will become of Monaka-chan then, exactly?

He thinks of how she died. With a disgusting, satisfied smile. He never wants to see despair look so happy ever again.

But the idea of Monaka forlorn and miserable—he doesn’t think he wants that, either.

She can be redeemed, a voice reminds him in the back of his mind. But then, that wouldn’t make her Ultimate Despair, would it? What good can be found in despair as anything other than a stepping stone?

Kamukura mixes whipping cream and sugar, and he’s just not sure.

I suppose—it would be better to just sit back and see how things turn out. Because hope will win in the end, I can relax. I can just...relax.

“You are tense, Nagito.”

He flinches, even though Kamukura’s tone is soft and more of a low murmur.

“I... It’s really nothing.” He wonders why it is that he has such difficulty relaxing now with these thoughts swirling in his mind—when before it hadn’t been nearly as difficult. “Mm. I guess if you’re done with that. All we can do is wait for the muffins to bake among...other things. I suppose.”

“You suppose correctly,” Kamukura answered simply. He meets his gaze. “Once muffins are baked, you may alert her.”

“Alright.” Until then... Until then... “Kamukura-kun, she’s probably going to want more pastries, so...would you mind staying around for a while?”

“I suppose I can.”

Kamukura doesn’t even miss a beat. Komaeda wonders why, but he’s gracious all the same.

“Thank you.”

For whatever reason—I want things to remain for a little while longer.

--

And afterwards, when Monaka seemed to enjoy the Mont Blanc so much that she was annoyed by it, Komaeda felt his smile widen.

Just a while longer.

“This is so sweet it makes me sick,” she grumbles. “But you two are worse. Quit looking at Komae—Servant-nii-san like that. Creep.”

Kamukura does look away when he glances over, confused.

“Even if you two are a lovey-dovey couple, I don’t want to see it,” Monaka griped.

Lovey-dovey... Like parents...? Ah, no, just what am I thinking? I’m already being so overindulgent.

Komaeda idly grips his wrist, where the bandages were. He thinks about the hideous stitching, and how that could possibly compare to his and Kamukura Izuru’s relationship.

It’s for a hopeful future...nothing more. Nothing less. Still.

His eyes fell shut.

I hope we can all be happy. Something like that.

[scarlettlawyer]

Part 13 of my reaction/commentary to the Phantoms & Mirages Saga, the fanfic series by @renegadewangs

(Chasing Phantoms): Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

(Haunted Specters): Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

(Vanquishing Mirages): Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Vanquishing Mirages / Lifting Spirits: Part 10

Lifting Spirits: Part 11 Part 12

OH BOY we actually made it. Are we actually here? At the Lifting Spirits ending?! :O

It only took thirteen posts and thousands upon thousands upon thousands of words and a couple of AUs and fun off-topic detours but WE DID IT. But it was the journey that counts, not necessarily the destination, no? XD

It was only the three of them- Simon, Athena and Bobby himself who were visiting Lex. There were very few other people who would bother to pay their respects, Bobby supposed.

[…]

The ambassador was probably the only other person who’d visit the grave with honest intent.

I don’t… necessarily think that’s true, to be honest.

I have some thoughts about this that I won’t go into, but, there were many people deeply upset by the fake verdict in-universe.

Lifting Spirits, Chapter 18

ascending.

I can’t it’s so much, the sweetness the…

”His identity was mine up until two months ago and it’ll continue to be mine whenever my uncle deems it time to take me out for some exercise.”

PALAENO OUT HERE GONNA TAKE LEX FOR WALKS LIKE A HECKIN’ DOG LOL? I love it.

While this was a suitable alternative to execution, in a way it felt like they were cheating.

Okay I really liked this line on first read honestly because. Yes.

Like, this ties in a huge amount to what I said in the last post. It… DID kind of feel like cheating to me back then? In the sense that this is such a wonderful, happy ending for everyone to the extent that it almost felt like it shouldn’t be possible given the past and the characters involved. It felt like a bit of a meta line? And I really don’t know if it was intended as such, that’s just how I interpreted/read it!

And these are the EXACT lines wherein, tied with the open acknowledgement of the inability to please everyone discussed in the last post, seriously made me embrace and adore this ending one thousand percent.

The “cheating” comment seriously resonated with me and just, by alluding to it feeling like cheating… to just embrace it… The open acknowledgement goes such a huge way. There doesn’t need to be any internal sense of dissonance whatsoever if the story is right there with you in terms of self-awareness.

By saying “not everyone can be satisfied with the ending” in and of itself allows me to be fully satisfied, and to no longer have to worry about the fact that it can’t please everyone, since the story is already aware of this and having pointed out that pleasing everyone isn’t possible anyway.

Mind you, my perspective now is somewhat more akin to hissing “no it’s not cheating back off this beautiful ending is 100% earned and righteous shhhhh”.

I… am really rendered speechless with some of the wonderfulness of this ending… And I’d actually... forgotten a lot of wonderful details too? Because I’d only read it through once before, and the fact that rereading the series to do these reviews has taken some time means the largest gap of time had passed between the first and second reading when it came to these last few chapters (making my memory of them the least fresh before reading through a second time). So the entire time prior to actually reading them once again, I’d been entirely going off memory of my first reading from like… a few months ago now, when discussing things with my friend(s) and thinking up scenarios. So, some things were like reading afresh and they just kinda outright killed me (in a good way) as if it was better than I had even remembered it being. Two examples of this are, 1. I could not recall with certainty an instance of Lex referring to Palaeno as “uncle”, and while reading through Lifting Spirits, noticed that even after the surgery he was still just referring to him as “ambassador”. Which, made me wonder if he had… So, suffice it to say… Reading this ending and seeing how he continuously refers to him as “uncle” & “my uncle” SO many times in such a short timespan, blows me away, and WOW!! WARMTH & LOVELY EMOTIONS ABOUND. 2. THIS IS KIND OF SKIPPING AHEAD TO THE LAST CHAPTER I GUESS BUT SIMON OUTRIGHT ACKNOWLEDGES THEM AS FRIENDS!!!!!!!! PLEASE I DIE OF WARMTH. I did NOT remember that, it is so… casually acknowledged!!! Like yes, yes, it is clear as DAY that, by the end, there is friendship among the trio, but it is casually verbalised by Simon like that and oh my goodness.

Lifting Spirits, Chapter 19

I will have to say that for the Lifting Spirits ending, I was way, way more invested in the themes of family and family dynamics instead of the shipping side of things. But SHIPPERS GOTTA SHIP and I respect that XD

Things spiraled out of control further and further.

Alexander… Luster Jr

Not with someone else, only Benny. …For now, anyway.

…AND HOW MANY NEW PEOPLE IS HE PLANNING ON MEETING WHEN ON HOUSE ARREST, EXACTLY?!

Lifting Spirits, Chapter 20

Really love the parallels vs differences between Benny and Lex illustrated so clearly in this chapter.

He didn’t want her to die. It seemed unfair of her to have to die while he got a second chance at living.

OH MY GOD? I Had TOTALLY FORGOTTEN THAT THIS GETS ADDRESSED/MENTIONED IN THE ENDING WHEN I’VE SPENT THE LAST FEW WEEKS/MONTHS ECHOING THIS EXACT SAME SENTIMENT!!!!

WILD that I had forgotten about this being brought up directly in the text considering how much I’ve been “”complaining”” about this EXACT “double standard”.

My memory must be SO bad I genuinely thought that Mirage didn’t even get any mention anywhere in the ending, and that after Lex’s meeting with her in the prison she promptly Disappears never to be mentioned again in Lifting Spirits, which felt INCREDIBLY unjust and to do her character a severe disservice. Once again I am a FOOL. A FOOL. That’s my entire Phantoms and Mirages reading experience let’s just be clear: me just, fumbling around blindly and making a fool of myself xDD

I actually think this being brought up directly in the text is the precise thing which planted this thought in my head in the first place too, and then I just, forgot that it was brought up in-story and started going around thinking it was my Own Original Sentiment, pffffff. THAT’S UH. A BIT OF A RUNNING THEME ABOUT THINGS FROM THE ENDING ACTUALLY. This is what I get for reading the ending Once and then needing to go off of memory alone for the next few months: suddenly it starts seeming like my ideas are Totally Original, Not Drawn From Direct Textual Hints/Discussion Or Anything. LOL.

Lifting Spirits, Chapter 21

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

I have no clue if this was intentionally meant to echo one of the Phantom’s statements in Chasing Phantoms, but I found myself noticing it, at least on second readthrough, nonetheless!

“It would be best if you wipe that smirk off your face and hold your tongue, Bobby, as I’m quite certain your assumptions won’t sit well with me.”

Benny is right there? He’s right th

Hhhhhh I guess Benny is ok with the lack of openness then? dfhjbdfjfdkjb but Bobby’s RIGHT and Lex is a LIAR~

“I feel it is our duty as your friends to rub it in. Thirty eight years old, wasn’t it?”

“as your friends” once again, I’m ascending

Simon decided to tune out the remainder of the argument. Much as he believed Bobby had a point- the Jammin’ Ninja really was worthless against an opponent as grand as the Steel Samurai- he had no interest in partaking in the discussion.

SDKJNFDNJLFSDKJ

The former spy dropped himself back in his chair to return his attention to the watch he was constructing.

The

Former

Spy

: D (I misremembered the “former” part being way earlier in the narrative… and was kinda “huh!” whenever the narrative would still refer to him as “spy” long after the surgery on this readthrough… This is an example of my oversimplification of the distinctions the text makes between Lex and the phantom; in reality, there was still a transition involved, and things/characterisation wasn’t as clear-cut as I’d remembered it being in a “before vs after the surgery” sense. The subtle changes are… super great).

Okay, so for this ending (and the plot of Lifting Spirits), there was ONE thing that slightly nagged at me. Ultimately, I couldn’t be happier with how things turned out. But one thing that did strike me is that the Phantoms and Mirages narrative very clearly frames the phantom’s lack of emotions – their impairment as a result of the bone sliver – as a disability. Through the removal of the bone sliver, this disability is ultimately “cured”, and Lex is given the opportunity to become a “real” and good person.

In real life, in the vast majority of cases, there is no ready cure for disabilities, and a person’s disability cannot be readily separated meaningfully from who they are. It is something with them their whole life. It could be said that the disability itself is being kicked aside in this narrative instead of being accepted. (But, of course, given the context, it’s pretty understandable). There’s the slight potential for things to go awry if you warp some kind of message out of the narrative somehow such as “oh, it’s okay, if you’re disabled you can still have a happy ending… You just need to “cure” your disability first!” but that is obviously an extremely unfair and uncharitable reading.

I think it’s important to clarify that the Phantom’s lack of emotions – his disability in and of itself is not what made him a bad person (obviously), it was his actions. And I think that the narrative does make that pretty clear.

But the thing is,

It’s NOT actually the case that Lex gets suddenly magically “cured” of everything. That’s not the case at all! He must continue to struggle and to strive – he may not be emotionless anymore, but now he has to deal with the opposite, which is a sort of handicap all on its own. There are lasting repercussions from the bone sliver in the sense that now he must learn to deal with the intensity of what he is feeling. With that in mind, to frame it in terms of a “disability being kicked aside” is a pretty incorrect reading.

I said this in a previous post when I kind of touched on this kind of thing:

It’s just, the notion of a character actively striving to be good and overcoming themselves vs a sudden fix that gets externally applied

But another thing is… In my mind, I had exaggerated somewhat just how much of an effect this “sudden fix that gets externally applied” has as well. Lex must not only strive to overcome the extremity of the emotions he feels now, but there continues to be development throughout Lifting Spirits regarding how he interacts with the characters around him. It’s not like he gets the surgery and his characterisation/bonds with the others suddenly and abruptly jumps to where it was at the end and remains consistent through the whole fic; not at all. There CONTINUES to be development as he makes progress towards the point he’s at in the ending, even after the surgery.

Another thing about this ending is that it is so nice.

I think that Lifting Spirits, at its core, is a really beautiful story and concept. It really is. And part of why I had, perhaps, fought against or figured I wouldn’t find a good ending convincing is because I had convinced myself that it just wasn’t possible for the phantom as a character in general to ever achieve any kind of happy ending no matter what, EVEN IF I might like such a thing. I must make some clarification here, because other stories do offer a good kind of happy ending for them, but not in the same manner in which Lifting Spirits does, Lifting Spirits definitely feels like a different “kind” of good ending and a more “direct” good ending at that. I hope that makes some sense, because articulating the difference does seem kinda difficult.

Usually with favourite characters you want them to be happy, but with the phantom it had never been like that… I only ever wanted, or expected, angst or whatnot because… I simply did not think anything else was possible. And I was pretty content with that. But you… You…!

Anyway, there is another big aspect of the ending’s greatness that I want to talk about too. It’s kind of open-ended in the best possible way…

So many things happen that well and truly make it seem like the story is drawing to a close, and YET, simultaneously, there is very much this sense of new beginnings as well, and this ending works equally well regardless of whether there’s another instalment or not.

Something little like Simon getting his hair cut, or Bobby and Simon officially moving in with each other, are awesome things that feel very significant, that make you go “wow, we really are at the wholesome, satisfying, grand conclusion to it all huh? We’ve spent so much time with these characters, but now it’s finally time for them to go on their merry way, and continue to go on with their lives beyond the text written on the page.” They are CHANGES, changes to the “status quo”. You certainly get the impression that even if the story might be “over” for the reader, it certainly isn’t over for the characters – and that is the impression we would still get if there was absolutely nothing else written beyond Lifting Spirits – that their story would continue on regardless, and there would still be… adventure.

Because that’s another thing about the ending to Lifting Spirits. It closes off, and wraps everything up so very nicely. But at the same time, it remains poised, there is just this huge atmosphere of “stuff can still go DOWN” building. It’s the perfect ending where everything gets wrapped up but it is also the perfect set-up for anything to happen beyond the conclusion.

I sense this VERY STRONGLY in the segments where, for example, Benny considers how maybe he might need all the weapons and skills he has. Feels very “calm before the storm”.

Part of what’s so great about something like Simon getting a motorcycle is that the “the subway sucks” and “Simon trying to learn how to drive” subplot(s) have been present in the series from the very beginning. And finally, finally, after trying and failing at learning to drive regular cars, Simon has successfully escaped the subway at the very end.

We are given such hints on what could lie beyond, but also, from the way things are? There are a million different ways things COULD pan out in future, and the audience is only left to wonder.

We are given this strong hint that MAYBE… just maybe, this situation isn’t quite sustainable indefinitely. That perhaps, something’s gotta give at some point.

And that no matter what, the characters probably have some wild times ahead of them. Like that’s the thing: Even if Tracking Ghosts didn’t exist, I’d be left with the lasting impression that events of “Tracking Ghosts” length may still await the characters in the future.

But it’s all left so perfectly VAGUE. All left only in the realm of possibility.

I was satisfied to the extreme with the ending, I had to just take it and run at the time (of course I always planned on reading on), although back then to an extent I was outright BAFFLED at there still being this huge instalment to go. In the words of my friend, back then when I told her that Actually, there’s STILL even MORE to read:

Like, it truly felt like EVERYTHING had already been said and done. So how…?!

And since then, of course, I have not continued reading on as of yet, which has given me plenty of time to think.

And I have since realised that, as well and as thoroughly as Lifting Spirits DOES wrap everything up, there are still tiny, potentially loose threads. Tiny threads that could be unravelled until they could give way to all manner of things, scenarios, plots.

And that aside, there’s so much else that COULD happen as well. The Lifting Spirits ending is rife with potential. It is absolutely brimming with it.

And I also found myself realising that hey, there actually are things that haven’t been said and done yet. That there ARE little tiny things left nagging at me.

Tracking Ghosts contains a whole new threat, elaboration on Lex's emotional instability, road trips through Borginia, lots more 'Mirage' and Domestique LaSoote's backstory (oooh~). Also, the mother of all epilogues and a few more bonus chapters that take place afterwards.

Okay it is actually hilarious how little I remembered of all of this by the end. And that is to say: pretty much none of it. I straight-up forgot ALL of this being even mentioned in the Author’s Note at the end, and therefore have incorporated stuff like “road trips through Borginia” and “Mirage backstory” very VERY little in how I’ve thought about what to expect from Tracking Ghosts, at least in recent times, ahahahaha. Well I’ve got… quite a lot ahead of me, I’m sure.

I am certain that there’s so much more I could probably say about this series, I could continue to go on and on, but for now, there you have it, I think. I have not done this ending justice at all – it’s just so good it defies being done justice, and I don’t think I can fully articulate what I want to. But I’m content. Across so many posts, in thousands and thousands of words, I have already said quite a bit. XD

So now, all that’s left is to take that plunge and finally start to read Tracking Ghosts as I planned on doing once this series of posts was finished, huh? XD

I start my work week tomorrow, so it’s currently looking like… I will start reading it next weekend! It will have to be a weekend, sadly, as I can’t imagine starting and diving into something so huge when I have to try and focus on work/get sufficient sleep, lol.

OH I DON’T KNOW HOW TO END THIS POST-

Thank you, so much, for everything, and uh, apologies in advance for however much I might blow up your inbox/DMs/what have you when reading Tracking Ghosts. GENUINELY DON’T KNOW how much I will liveblog to you, if only a couple of things will slip through or if I’m just outright gonna go completely wild with it XD. IT WILL DEPEND ON THE STORY ITSELF AND HOW I’M FEELING I GUESS/my reactions.

These review posts have been… they’ve been really fun, I’ve enjoyed doing them a lot. They’ve been time consuming, but it was all 100% worth it and I’m very glad I set out to do them. I couldn’t not do them, really. I found myself realising that I just needed to tell you about the incredible journey/ride this series took me on one way or another – and, of course, I just have so many thoughts and so very many opinions about it. It lends itself so readily to analysis for me. But more than that, it feels like it SHOULD be analysed and subjected to analysis.

Talking with you is really great, and I hope to talk with you heaps more in future! Not just about your stories, just in general!

Thanks again, and I hope you have a great week! And then it will be TRACKING GHOSTS TIME.

[pinkletterday]

Notorious

Pairing: Barry Allen/ Iris West.

Rating: Teen

Warnings: drug use, addiction

Status: WiP

Summary: Iris West reluctantly faces the challenge of her career as a publicist - saving up and coming alt-rock sensation Barry Allen's career from himself.

"People like notoriety. Studios don't like uninsurable flight risks. The money is in the sweet spot between the two."

Prompt taken from this post and altered.

"Hi, I'm gonna kill you."

Iris's boss, Leonard Snart, swivelled in his chair to face her as she stormed into his office, heedless of the transparency of its walls.

"Good morning to you too, Iris," he said wryly. "I wouldn't mind if you do kill me, I have meeting with Accounting in ten minutes. But why am I to be executed?"

"Why would you put me on the Allen account?" Iris demanded, eyes flashing angrily under wide-rimmed glasses. "More importantly, why am I being taken off the Queen one? I brought in that client, Len! And now you want me to baby-sit ANOTHER self-aggrandizing man-child AFTER I helped QC Records pull off a complete image revamp?"

"We're a entertainment PR firm, West, they're all self-aggrandizing man-children. We'd be out of business if they weren't," Len waved her away and went back to collecting his papers. "And I put you on the Allen account because Oliver Queen likes you."

"What?" Iris stopped, non-plussed.

"When you pull off the impossible, people reward you by giving you something more impossible," said Len in his usual air of imparting some grand wisdom upon the newbies. It did nothing to assuage Iris's bad humour. "You got the public to see young Ollie Queen, heedless playboy in the club scene, as a savvy charismatic businessman able to lead his father's empire without running it to the ground. Now he wants you to do the same for his good buddy Barry Allen."

"Why didn't he just ask me?" said Iris, only slightly mollified.

"Probably didn't want to be around for the kicking and screaming," said Len, leaning his head sardonically at her. Iris flushed. Snart was such an asshole. "And don't worry, Queen's paying the retainer fee."

"Why is Oliver paying for Allen?" she determinedly strode behind him as he headed out to the elevator. "Barry Allen's already got two singles in the Billboard Top 40 and a contract with QC. Can't he afford to pay us himself?"

"Ah, there's the rub, darling," Len smirked at her. "Part of the deal is that you convince young Mr. Allen that he needs you. And judging by the recent tabloid coverage - boy, he really does need you."

Iris stared at him. "You can't be serious. He doesn't even want a - Len, he needs rehab not a publicist!"

"No reason why he shouldn't have both," said Len stepping into the elevator as she stood outside, stupefied in disbelief. "Don't worry, Iris. I have every faith in you." The elevator doors closed on her boss's infuriating Chesire cat grin.

"I don't even know anything about alt-rock!" she yelled fruitlessly at the closed steel doors.

"So, I guess this is a bad time to tell you I got the QC account," Sara approached waving a folder at her, her expression not much less disgruntled than hers. "Any tips on how to handle Queen?"

"Yeah," said Iris, pivoting angrily on her heel and marching away. "Kick his fucking ass."

***

For someone with a talent for both music and being splashed across the tabloids, Barry Allen had a rather unconventional arrangement. He was not represented by any major talent agency, even Snart Associates was more entertainment-corporate oriented than talent. He had been "managed" this far by a personal friend in the music industry, a Cisco Ramon, whose own success had made it impossible to focus on Allen's. Iris figured that some well-meaning yet complicated friend negotiations had taken place behind the artist's back for this clusterfuck to land on her desk. She fumed. She was a professional. Even when she had had to contend with Oliver Queen at his worst (the fact that much of the worst had been a ruse was small consolation) it had been saving of the company she had been tasked with. She hadn't gotten an MBA on her own money by twenty-four while working her way up from a mailroom to end up playing nurse maid to entitled white boys.

It was her ire that made her square her shoulders, wipe the sneer off her face and beard the proverbial lion in his den alone. Ramon had asked her to wait for him outside the unimpressive square brick building in a bad part of town ("probably to fit his boho aesthetic," Iris thought uncharitably) but he was now ten minutes late, so screw him.

There was no security or buzzer at the entrance so Iris was able to simply walk into the alarmingly large and clanky elevator that took her upto where Allen lived on the top floor. She stepped into a hall of bare brick with thick wooden sliding door staring at her. There was no buzzer to be seen here either. Iris was about to bang on the door when it opened by itself.

"- all right, fine, I'll let myself out, you jerk. Thanks for the sex and the coffee, I guess!" an irate blonde in dishevelled clothing appeared in front of her, coat and one heel still in hand, facing away to yell at the occupant. She turned around, came face to face with Iris and stepped back in surprise. "Who're you?"

Iris stared awkwardly at her. "Um."

She snorted. "Yeah okay, whatever, good luck." With which ominous benediction she pulled on her shoe and clattered down the stairs, apparently unwilling to wait for the elevator.

"Hey Kathy - Katya - whoever - could you close the door please? Thanks!" called a male voice.

Iris stepped in and complied.

The studio was kind of a bachelor cliché, bare brick, high ceilings, stainless steel counters and leather sofas. A vague smell of weed hung stale in the air. Dull grey sunlight flooded in from the large square windows overlooking the brick and mortar part of the warehouse district, on which gentrification had not encroached. A sad little pocket of impersonal luxury in a sadder, almost forgotten place.

A tall, lanky white man in a tattered tee shirt sat in profile at the far end, eschewing the sprawling sofa behind him in favour of sitting on the floor rug in a tangle of long legs, intermitently strumming on a guitar and scribbling on a note pad on a coffee table strewn with mugs, cans and paper.

"Mr. Allen?" she said tentatively.

His head whipped up, startled. "Huh? Who're you?"

"My name is Iris West. Oliver Queen sent me," said Iris, brisk and no-nonsense, adjusting her glasses.

He blinked slowly at her. Then a lazy grin came over his face. "And here I thought Ollie wasn't gonna send me strippers anymore," he said, eyeing her appreciatively, "he still definitely knows my type."

Iris gaped at him. "I am not a stripper!"

"Oh," he looked befuddled. "I'm sorry, but he really has sent me strippers before and one of them was actually dressed all school-teacherish like you - um. Although come to think of it, he hasn't done that in a few years. Sorry, um. Did uh, the other lady leave?"

"Yeah, she left just as I came in," Iris felt even more nonplussed, no idea which end of that ramble she was supposed to start with. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked around blinking as though not sure of his own surroundings. Or what time it was. Possibly which year.

"Are you high?" It was only ten in the morning, Jesus Christ.

"Um. Only on coffee. And Redbull. Lots of Redbull," he said, going back to work as though her presence in his apartment was not really of much concern to him. "Sex really gives me an endorphin rush and I had this idea - couldn't really go back to sleep after that. I think I made Katya -uh, the girl - mad. I just really need to focus, y'know? Like, if I don't it get done while I'm in the zone I can't ever get it back again?" He never tooked up, talking as though mostly to himself.

Iris approached him cautiously. "Huh. Well, coffee and Rebull I can work with. As long as it's not coke or something."

"Out of Coke. Might have some Pepsi," said Allen absently.

"I meant cocaine."

"Yeah, out of that too."

Iris breathed out slowly.

"Uh, so if Ollie didn't send you, why are you here?" Allen looked up at her, finally seeming to register that this vital question had gone unanswered.

"I said Mr. Queen did send me," she said patiently. "I'm your new publicist.

"Oh." Allen absorbed this. Then closed his eyes, hummed and began strumming his guitar.

Iris felt a headache building behind her eyeballs. "Mr. Allen? Did you not hear what I said?"

"I did, thank you," said Allen, "but I don't need a publicist. I'm sorry you wasted your time."

"I'm sorry about that too," said Iris, temper flaring out her nostrils, "but I am used to being treated with respect, client or not. Something apparently neither you, Oliver Queen or even Mr. Ramon seems capable of."

To her surprise, Allen's eyes flew open and he seemed genuinely dismayed. "Oh. You're right. I called you a - and then. Oh my God I'm sorry," he scrambled up, coltish legs unfolding almost comically to reveal himself a full head taller than her, pale and almost gangly but for an unconscious grace. "Um, please take a seat. Can I get you a drink? I can make more coffee. What do you mean Ollie and Cisco were rude to you?"

She stared after him as he bustled over to the kitchen island at the other end of the studio. Her past experience with Queen's associates and the tabloids had prepared her for a womanizing druggie manchild. It wasn't that Barry Allen had unchecked any of those boxes, exactly. Just kept checking them slightly to the left of where she expected.

"Well for one, Mr. Queen didn't notify me of my change in clients himself, and Mr. Ramon is now fifteen minutes late to our meeting," Iris slung her coat over a barstool and firmly sat herself on another, emanating a stern "will not be dislodged" aura, "I haven't had a briefing and also been told that I have to convince you to let me be your publicist. This is beyond professional discourtesy."

"Agreed on all counts," said Allen, smiling ruefully at her over the sink where he was rinsing the coffee pot. Unbecoming scruff aside, it was a very cute and disarming smile. "I'm sure Cisco has a good explanation, but I'm afraid Oliver is just an asshole like that."

"Believe me, I know," Iris snorted.

Allen's amusement deepened. "You aren't worried about calling your client an asshole in front of his friend?"

"I've called him worse things over the last year," she rolled her eyes, "and I can promise you I am going to call him many things as soon as his plane lands and he turns his phone on. I worked my ass off to save his company. I thought that meant something to him." The hurt she had been trying to ignore twinged despite herself. She had thought, after everything, that she and Oliver were at least friends.

Allen snapped his fingers in realization. "Oh, hey! I know who you are! Oliver talked about you all last year!"

"He did?"

"Yeah! Mostly complaining," (Iris snorted) "but in an impressed, complimentary way, you know?" Allen leaned his elbows on the counter and bent toward her with earnest blue eyes.

"I can imagine," she smiled wryly. "And he signed on with me willingly."

"Well, he got his money's worth. People finally get to see him like I've always seen him - not just a selfish party animal. You've done good work, Miss...?" he trailed off uncertainly again.

"West," she reasserted. "But you don't feel in need of my services?"

A distant door shut behind Allen's open, friendly eyes. "No, Miss West, I don't. It's not a reflection on you, it's just personal reasons."

Iris shrugged. "All right."

This seemed to surprise him. "Really? You aren't going to try to persuade me?"

"Do you want to be persuaded?"

"Well, no. I just thought -"

"Mr. Allen," Iris rubbed the headache away from her eyes, "a publicist is an integral, almost invasive presence in a company or someone's life. I need to know who you are, I need you to trust me so that you will come to me with everything and anything so that I can head off any media shitstorms or rumour mills, I need you ready and willing to take my advice on important life choices. I can't force my way into that position. Either you really want to rework your image or you don't."

"Why do I need to rework my image?" said Allen, blue eyes growing stormy. "I'm a musician. It would be weird if I weren't into sex and drugs."

"Sex and drugs, yes. Not making a fool of yourself by turning up high for your Jimmy Fallon interview, being arrested for solicitation and making it plain to the world that you are one drunken orgy away from an OD."

Allen was quiet as he poured the coffee into mugs. They were gaudy novelty ones with silly puns, incongrous with the sobriety of his interior decor. He slid one over without looking at her. She wondered whether he had deliberately chosen the bright-eyed unicorn saying "Go To Hell" in rainbow colors for her, but then he had his (long, graceful) hands wrapped around a mug where a slice of cheese announced "We'd be gouda together!" so she let it slide. "It doesn't matter," he said quietly.

"Oliver's been bailing you out of your worst jams, but now he's under extra scrutiny by the board. He can't keep you signed on for another album, even with two hit singles, if you look like you're going to be more trouble than you're worth."

Iris regretted saying it so baldly when she saw Allen flinch.

"I'm making trouble for Ollie?" He said it in a small, lost sort of way that made Iris feel like she'd kicked a puppy.

"I'm saying you're probably making life pretty difficult for him at the moment, yeah," she ploughed on, determined. "And that's probably why he hired me. Besides the fact that he obviously cares about you."

Allen peered quizzically at her over the rim of his mug. "Oliver talked to you about me?"

She snorted. "Yeah no. Cagey as hell, that guy. That's kind of how I know. The closer he is to someone, the less he talks about them. The opposite of the rest of the world."

"So you know he cares about me because he never talked to you about me?" Allen grinned as she drank her coffee. Her amazing, rich, life-giving coffee.

"That, and another thing."

"What's that?"

Weak silver sunshine cast half Barry Allen's lean, stupidly tall frame in shadow. It turned one of his eyes a light hazel and one side of his stubbly, hollowed cheek marble pale as he smiled down at her, both beautiful and uncanny.

I saw the financials for the out-of-court settlements he'd made to keep you off the news, for what good it did. If even one of them had been for sexual harrassment I wouldn't have touched either Queen's account or yours. I told him to void your contract last year and he shut me down. You have no idea how hard he's working to save you.

Iris grinned back. "He gave you the best damn publicist he had ever met."

***

[cyrelia-j]

Prompt? Garak and Parmak are in exile and happily together on DS9. How does their wooing of Bashir go?

OT3 humor (plus my Bolian OC) coming up!

First Contact

“Are you sure it isn’t suppose to be The Fornby Project?” Parmak had asked the question innocently enough to the Bolian completing the set up of goods right outside the entry to the shop. The newcomer had enlisted Parmak’s help in hanging the mysterious curtain leading to the shop inside. That comment unfortunately had seemed to put up a wall between their positive interaction following as the Bolian, Ziw Tralar informed him sounding annoyed that the “other skinny overly pedantic doctor” had said the same. Parmak wasn’t quite sure what other doctor that was until he learned later of another Federation transfer expected to join him. Parmak had tried to apologize for any slight. He’d been trying to work on his Federation Standard starting with the basics and he thought he remembered that words used some sort of “the”, “a”, “an” or something. His vocabulary was sadly eons behind.

Ziw had given him a measured look when they finished deciding with a bit of a strange expression that even if Parmak was apparently just as ill mannered as every other Cardassian he’d ever met, at  least he had the decent to appear contrite, so he gifted him with several books. First and foremost was a book that Ziw assured him was full of useful old Standard greetings that he should take note of. Parmak had discovered to his delight while offering his assistance that the eccentric “Fornby Project” a few stores down from Garak’s, contained a wide variety of old books. The old texts were one of his true loves though Garak often despaired at the volume of Parmak’s “collection”.

Parmak was curious about the new medical team as he later parsed the book of idioms. He knew that the Federation was bringing a medical team per protocol but he had yet to meet any of them. He didn’t exactly see the need for them protocols aside. Nurse Jabara too had commented on the Federation thinking they were the only power in the quadrant capable of diplomacy. Parmak laughed as she said it, being that she was currently performing a check up on one of the Starfleet ensigns. While Parmak agreed, he had to politely demur. It was the logical assumption that there would be resentment from the Bajorans directed towards the two Cardassians on station, especially a doctor. Still, it would have been nice had anyone thought to ask his patients what they thought.

As far as the Bajorans and previous Cardassian occupiers knew, Parmak and Garak were both exiles due to their anti occupation leanings and revolutionary activities. That may have been true in Parmak’s case, but Garak rather was only there because he refused flat out to torture his lover even under threat of death. Death for Garak would have been preferable to exile but well, at least they had managed to foster rather positive working relationships with everyone on station. Even if Garak was quite vocal in private on how irritating it was to hear the constant racial slander always followed by “but of course you and Doctor Parmak are nothing like them.”

“Do you get fries with that shake?” Parmak puzzles over that one in present time, repeating the words, checking his diction against the computer. It’s a Federation System and takes some getting used to, but he and Garak have been adapting.

“Are you still at that?” he hears Garak ask, coming into the room looking particularly well put together. Hmm, it seems Garak too has caught wind of the new Federation Doctor. From some of the gossip around the station that Parmak’s heard, the new Chief Medical Officer Doctor Julian Bashir is a young handsome man with no known attachments. One of his and Garak’s former partners, a dashing and considerate young Bajoran named Teja, was keen to let him know with a suggestive wink that the doctor was definitely “their type”.

“Are you an angel? Because you must have fallen from heaven…” Parmak mumbles to himself, repeating the sounds as best as he can. Yes, he absolutely is “still at that”. Thirty six hours from learning of Doctor Bashir, and finally seeing a picture hasn’t been nearly enough time to gain proficiency in a new language but it absolutely is enough time to try and memorize a few greetings from the old book. It took him just that long to understand the thing they call romanized script well enough to pronounce the words. He’ll leave the definitions for later. Perhaps Doctor Bashir can teach them…

“Did you hear that he’s a xenobiologist?” Parmak asks, looking up to Garak with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he pushes his glasses back up on his face. Garak snorts as he sits down and neatly plucks the book from Parmak’s hands idly thumbing through it. “Do you suppose that it ah… has the same implications as it does back home?” That gives Garak pause as he checks to make sure he’s holding the book the proper way.

“You realize Kelas, and forgive me if this sounds uncharitable, that the primary cause of the xenobiology field becoming synonymous with ‘alien fucker’ back home originated solely with you.”

“I think you’re giving me far too much credit, Elim,” Parmak replies, absently toying with the end of his long braid. “I noticed you’re wearing one of your new pieces. Were you planning on going somewhere without me?”

“I am aware that you have no true appreciation for the craft of subtlety, but I thought perhaps a little reconnaissance might be in order.” Garak holds up the book pointing to the shortest phrase on the page. Parmak is still somewhat mystified that Federation Standard has so many types of greetings, and he’s been somewhat at a loss to decide on the best one. The Bolian had informed him primly that since he had “all the answers” where Federation Standard was concerned he could very well figure it out for himself. “This is the shortest one so it might be the easiest to recall.”

“Is that supposed to be a slight on my age?” Parmak asks snatching the book back, giving Garak a smack on the knee with it.

“I would hardly cache your age as slight,” Garak answers with a tug to Parmak’s long, white, plait of hair. Parmak pauses, reading that fire in Garak’s expression trying not to smile. Garak had used to lament that his ability to properly engage in a good bit of flirtatious banter was permanently damaged from all of his off world fraternizing, but Parmak has had a good several years now to work on it with his husband. He gives Garak’s stomach a little poke in return.

“Mmm, we shouldn’t speak then of things that aren’t slight,” he answers, letting a book drop a moment. It’s all lies and misdirection. Garak is delightfully thick, and Parmak was born with white hair, but it’s fun.

Perhaps there’s a renewed vigor between them as well, when Parmak decides that Garak’s dapper new creation deserves a bit of dishevelment and they both agree that Doctor Bashir can wait one more day before a proper introduction.

---

“It’s Doctor Bashir, isn’t it?” Garak asks as soon as he sidles up to the table, Parmak hovering just off to the side. Parmak thinks the young human is at least twice as easy on the eyes as Teja had said. Really, Parmak is surprised that Teja didn’t go after the doctor himself but Parmak has never been one to question good fortune. He remains smiling politely, sadly not dressed anywhere near as smartly dressed for his shift later, as Garak continues. “Of course it is. May I introduce myself?”

Parmak notices that the doctor’s eyes get wide, the size of dilated dinner plates as he looks between the two of them. Oh dear, perhaps Teja had been spreading stories after all.

“Uh yes… yes of course,” Doctor Bashir answers not looking the least bit excited. Parmak wishes he didn’t look so nervous because it’s making Parmak nervous and Garak just soldiers on his usual engaging self. It’s entirely unfair, he thinks as he tries to recall any of the dozen phrases he’d memorized out of the book the last few days.

He notices that Garak is also taking a seat, taking the lead in this, and taking Parmak into the deep waters where he usually doesn’t tread. Well really, if Garak had wanted to work alone he could’ve said something, because now that Parmak recalls the earlier conversation, Garak had likely only passive aggressively agreed.

“My name is Garak; Cardassian by birth, obviously. This is my husband Kelas,” comes seemingly as an afterthought, leaving Parmak to shuffle around, push his glasses back up, and try and decide if he ought to steal another chair from somewhere or just sit on Garak’s lap.

“We’re the only two of us left on the station, as a matter of fact. So we appreciate making new friends when we can.” Garak looks up to him now, clearly passing this bit off to him and he sort of wants to get close enough to step on Garak’s foot because this is all so sudden and he doesn’t have half of Garak’s charm or ease of tongue. Doctor Bashir is also still completely ill at ease which is clearly amusing Garak but only making Parmak’s inclination towards empathy entirely out of sorts. Garak is expectant, needling him even further with that wicket serpent’s grin. “Oh come now, my dear Kelas, don’t be so shy. I know you were just aching to introduce yourself to Doctor Bashir without the - what did you call it? - formal trappings of the office?”

Garak is radiating smug at that easy lie, and Parmak is going to kill him tonight, doctor’s oath be damned. He clears his throat, sure his smile doesn’t look nearly as coy or practiced as Garak’s as he stammers and tries to remember everything he’d taught himself and picked up from Ziw.

“Perhaps you might take the opportunity to demonstrate one of the charming little phrases you’ve been working so hard on. You really should hear him, doctor. My Kelas has the delightful dulcet tones of an Andorran songbird.” A songbird who’s going to peck Garak’s eyes out, Parmak decides as his eyes dart everywhere but Julian’s face as he tries to pull something out of that blank page.

By some miracle of the ancients, his eyes catch one of Julian’s black shoes from under the table, bringing forth, as Garak had suggested from the outset the simplest and shortest phrase that he’d memorized so far. Well then, they’re going to see who looks stupid now when Parmak beams at Julian and slams both hands on the table just as Ziw had taught him by way of greeting.

“Nice shoes!” Parmak exclaims, hoping that his cadence and tone are at least passable.  “Wanna fuck?”

[higgsboshark]

Day Job

Me: I am so screwed. There’s no way I can get this notarized before 7 a.m. tomorrow.

Sandi: I bet the Doctor is a notary. Ms. Frizzle, too. Is there a fic for that?

Me: There is in 20 minutes.

20 minutes later ...

Rated G. Fandoms: Doctor Who, Mary Poppins, Howl’s Moving Castle, Magic School Bus. 1,574 words.

If there’s one thing people will always need, it’s paperwork. And hey, even time travelers have to pay the bills somehow ...

BUREAUCRACY IN A HURRY, read the sign painted in meticulous capitals across the window of the shabby storefront tucked between an all-night kebab shop and a children’s clothing store. PAPERS NOTARIZED, WILLS WITNESSED, MARRIAGES PERFORMED. OPEN 26 HOURS A DAY.

A young woman hurried down the street, dashing tears from her eyes. She glanced at the and did a double-take. “Mom, let me call you back,” she said into her cellphone. “No, I think I found a place to get the forms done. Yes, I know how important it — look, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you. I’LL CALL YOU. OKAY, BYE.”

She tucked the phone into her pocket and looked down at the sheaf of papers she was clutching in the other hand. She closed her eyes and her lips moved briefly, as if praying.

The door creaked as she pushed it open. Inside, the place was just as shabby as the outside, with buzzing lights and a faded plastic houseplant, but it smelled pleasantly of old books and ... was that cinnamon?

She stepped up to the chipped wooden counter. The place was deserted, but then again, she hadn’t been expecting it to be hopping at 11:30 pm on a Tuesday.

RinG beLL foR SrviCe, said a sign in what was unmistakably a child’s wobbly handwriting. She looked at it, then around the counter. There was no bell. Typical.

“Dobry večer?” she called, tentatively. No one answered. “Um ...hello? Anyone there?” She leaned over the counter to see if she could see into the back room, but there was nothing but a short, shadowy hallway and what looked like some sort of blue wardrobe.

The front door gave a sudden loud creak, and she jumped, papers scattering.

“Oh my goodness, sorry honey!” the voice was warm, female, and unmistakably American. The girl turned to see a middle-aged woman with curly red hair and a warm smile. She was wearing a dress printed with books and papers, a pair of earrings shaped like pencils, and holding a bag full of doner kebab. She put it down on the counter and helped the girl collect her papers. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I tried to honk the horn when I parked the bus, but that door is so thick I bet you didn’t hear me.”

The girl blinked and looked out the window to the street. There were no cars in sight, much less a bus. “Uh, I guess not,” she said politely. She edged away just a little, hoping the woman wasn’t going to line up behind her.

But no, it was even worse: the woman pulled out a key and let herself through the “Employees Only” door and into the back of the store. She leaned out across the counter to grab the bag, gave the girl another smile, and walked off down the hall. She knocked on a door, yelled “Kebab’s here!” and vanished inside when it opened.

“Um …?” the girl said to no one.

From the back room, there came a noise like a brontosaurus with its nuts caught in a blender. It faded out, went silent, then faded in again. She leaned over the counter. There was nothing there, but … had that blue wardrobe moved? It seemed to be just a few inches to the left of where it had been.

A door banged open, though she couldn’t see where. Then a shortish man in a brown suit and tennis shoes came around the corner of the wardrobe. “Ah!” he said, seeing her, and grinned. He walked over and leaned forward while she leaned back. He had a light, laughing voice and when he spoke, it was with a British accent. “Have you seen a woman come through here with a kebab?”

“Yes?” the girl said, and pointed. “She went through the door right there.”

“Lovely!” He grinned again. It was a very nice grin. “And I don’t suppose you’ve also seen a short chap in an armor suit, looks a bit like a potato, talks a lot about slaughtering his enemies?”

She leaned back a little further. “W-what?”

“Nothing, never mind. Kebab’ll do for now. Cheers!” He waved and headed for the door.

“Excuse me!” the girl called. “Could you tell me where to find the notary?”

The man turned around, but kept walking backwards as he spoke. “No, couldn’t possibly, I’m afraid. It’s the intern’s turn to man the desk tonight.” He chuckled. “Heh. Intern’s turn.”

The girl took a deep breath. The papers shook where she gripped them. “Okay, but unless the intern is invisible, he’s not here and I j-just n-need to get this done or I can’t go h-home …” She felt her chin wobble, and blinked hard against the tears.

The man stopped. “Aw, here now, don’t cry!” he said, sounding appalled.

She took a deep breath and got a grip on herself. “Sorry. I don’t mean to. It’s just been a really long day, and to be honest I’d given up finding a notary this time of night at all.” She remembered something. “Hey, did you know your sign is wrong? It says ‘Open 26 hours.’ There’s only 24 hours in a day.”

“Are there?” the man said lightly. “Hmm.” Before she could ask what that meant, he turned to the other side of the hall and banged on a yellow door. “Jenkins! Hoy, Howell Jenkins! Come on, lazyarse, we’ve got a customer.”

The door opened, and the most beautiful man she’d ever seen poked his blonde head out the door. He turned his limpid blue eyes to the man in the suit, then to her, and sighed. “All right, all right,” he said, in a broad Welsh accent. He shambled out, revealing beat-up jeans and a raggedy sweater that seemed odd next to such an angelic face. He locked the yellow door behind him, and fixed the girl with an accusing stare. “You didn’t ring the bell.”

She swallowed. “There isn’t a bell.”

“Well, you’ll know to bring one next time, won’t you?” He crossed his arms on the counter and yawned. “Is it yer last will and testament, then?”

“No,” she said. “It’s an affidavit. I’ve got to have it signed and notarized by seven a.m. tomorrow so I can pick up my visa in —”

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, all right. Notarized, eh? Not my department.” He turned, and she froze, terrified he was going to just walk away again. Instead, he yelled down the hall, “Hey, Mary! Customer.”

“Yes, yes, all right,” came a muffled voice from the door where the other two … employees? … had disappeared. After a moment, a lady with a severe dark bun and a long dress came out. She would have been terrifying, except that she was still munching on the last few bites of a kebab.

At the sight of it, Jenkins brightened. “The kebabs are here? No one told me.”

“Dr. Frizzle said she left yours at the counter,” the dark-haired woman said. She fixed him with a stern look and added, “Where you ought to have been.”

Jenkins spread his arms, looking affronted. “And here I am!” he said grandly, “But do you see a kebab? Because I don’t.”

Well, you’ll know to bring one next time, won’t you, the girl thought uncharitably.

“Yes, all right, well go and ask her about it then,” the woman said, rolling her eyes. She ate the last bite of her own and licked garlic sauce off her fingers.

“Your wish shall be my command, beautiful Mary,” Jenkins said, and slouched off down the hall.

Mary rolled her eyes. “Now, let me see what we have here,” she said, holding out her hand for the papers. The girl passed them over and said another silent prayer. “Hmm …” Mary said. “Yes … yes, this should be no problem. Let me just go and get my seal.” She bustled off, and the girl sagged against the counter.

The front door creaked open as Mary returned. She looked up and nodded briskly at whoever had just come in.

“Wedding, yes?” she said. “Just one moment. Doctor!”

The man in the suit tumbled out into the hallway. “Yes? What is it? Did someone …” he followed Mary’s pointing finger and broke out into a smile all over his face. “Congratulations, you two. Oh! Er, sorry, you three.”

The girl jumped and looked around. Behind her, a dark-skinned man, a blonde white woman, and a brown-skinned, dark-haired person of indeterminate gender beamed back at her.

“Right then, just come back to my office and we’ll get you all sorted out,” the man in the suit said. He opened the door and ushered them back, smile never faltering. The people followed with their arms around each other, all … eight arms? That couldn’t be right. She tried to count again, but couldn’t seem to keep track.

“Miss?” Mary said.

The girl blinked. “Oh, sorry!” she scribbled her signature on the line.

“Right, I’ll just stamp this and you’ll be all done.” Mary stamped it, then leaned forward. “What’s your name? I can’t quite read it.”

“Alice,” the girl said. “Alice Liddell.” She held out a handful of coins and smiled. “Thank you so much for this. My visa was delayed and I’ve been stuck here for ages. I was starting to think I’d never get home.”

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

94 and/or 95 for the drabbles?

Thanks for asking, @cryofthewolf!  I combined both into 1.

TenToo, Rose, and their little girl.  Since it is TenToo, tagging @doctorroseprompts and @timepetalsprompts

Uh, given the prompt, warning for slight usage of language?  Though, the prompted line is really the only instance…

Prompts from this list:

94.  “I had a bad dream again.”

95.  “Have I mentioned, I fucking hate Halloween.”

AO3

Scary Movie

He’ll never admit it, but his reflexes and senses havedulled in the time since becoming human.

Which is why when he opened his eyes for no apparent reasonin the middle of the night, he almost had a bloody heart attack to see twosmall eyes staring at him from the side of the bed.

“Are you awake?” thesmall, dark shape asked in a loud whisper.

“I am now.  Use yourquiet voice, Mummy’s sleeping,” hewhispered back at a more appropriate volume for – 3 AM?!

The little girl simply stared at him, waiting.

With a deep sigh, he carefully untangled himself from thesheets, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and at the same time risingand swinging his daughter into his arms.

He knew he wasn’t going back to sleep for a long while whenshe wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, and they were still trembling.

Carrying her out to the living room, he sat on the couch andsnuggled her close.

“Young ladies named Sarah Jacqueline are supposed to beasleep at this time of night,” he toldher seriously as she played with the neck of his t-shirt.  He took a moment to be thankful that Rose hadmade him put it and his sleep pants back on after their, uh, pre-sleepactivities.

“I had a bad dream again,” Sarah confessed softly, burrowing into him.

“Oh, love,” he sighed,gently stroking her hair.  “I’m sorry.”  Though he hated that she was scared, he did relish that she still came to him - soon enough she would be too old to seek comfort from them, and the thought hurt his solitary heart.

She shrugged, pretending it was nothing, as though he couldn’tread her like a book.  Her mother’sdaughter, indeed.

“Is there anything I can do to help you get to sleep?” he asked, and she looked up at himeagerly.  Before she could even start headded, “That does not involve ice cream or candy or cookies or other sugaryitems?”

Her little bottom lip protruded, but she didn’t argue,instead asking, “Can we just have a cuddle here?”

“Of course we can, my darling.”  He carefully swung around torecline, resigned to spending the rest of the night on the couch.  It wasn’t long before she drifted off,leaving him with his thoughts.

-

The next thing he knew, there was the lightest dual pressureof a hand on his shoulder and Rose’s mind brushing his over their bond.

He blinked his eyes open to find it was still dark, hiswife crouched down next to him.

“Another bad dream?” she asked sympathetically, brushing a kiss along their daughter’s brow.

“Yep.  Third thisweek.”  He made no effort to hide his annoyed tone, though he kept it low to avoid waking the sleeping child.

“I’ll talk to Mum, tell her to absolutely never again showthat movie.”

“Thanks, but that doesn’t solve the here and now.”  He reigned in the uncharitable thoughts hewas thinking about his mother-in-law, and looked up to see his wife lookingamused.  “What?”

“’S just, she’s our daughter.”

“Yeah?”

“I dunno, I just would’ve thought that she’d be braver thanthat.  I mean, I could understandNightmare before Christmas, or something like that, but honestly Doctor – how isshe afraid of Pooh’s Heffalump Halloween Movie?”

His lips twisted in agreement, carefully moving to sit up sohe could put Sarah back in her own bed.

Like a well-oiled machine they got her settled withoutwaking her, and walked back to their own bed hand in hand, climbing beneath thecovers.

It’s not until they’re settled, her head on his chest overwhere his second heart used to be, his arms wrapped around her, that he speaksagain.

“Rose?”

“Mmhmm?”  She’salready drifting back to sleep.

“Have I mentioned, I fucking hate Halloween?”

[veliseraptor]

I was thinking of this today and just wondered if I missed it - did you write any Loki and Scott Lang conversations? I just feel like those two together would be interesting - Scott being a former con and all. Not to mention his star-eyed version of Cap dating Loki...I don't know, just curious if you had any thoughts about it...

settling, 1.2k, remember this cold verse, post-”don’t care if heaven won’t take me back”, I have never written much of Scott Lang before and it probably shows but here is a thing!!!

In general, Loki refrained from wandering.

He and Wakanda’s king had reached an…uneasysettlement, of sorts, but Loki did not entirely know what to make of the manand thus could not entirely trust him. His people, he was even less sure of. Hedidn’t confine himself - refused to confine himself - but he didn’t makea habit of lounging in public areas, either.

He’d made an exception today, sitting with hisfeet in a pool in one of the gardens, watching the fish approach and then dartaway, seeking some kind of clarity.

It didn’t seem he was going to find it.

“How long are you going to stand there?” Heasked coolly, without turning. Whoever was standing behind him jumped, whichprobably ruled out Barton.

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” said…Scott Lang,Loki remembered. They’d barely spoken.

“I don’t particularly like it when people try tosneak up on me,” Loki said mildly. He turned his head, just a fraction, so hecould see Lang out of the corner of his eye. “Was there something you wanted?”

“Um…nothing specific.” The man certainlysounded…twitchy.

“Unlikely,” Loki said. “I make you nervous. Idoubt you would seek me out for no reason.”

“I didn’t say no reason,” Lang said. “Isaid nothing specific.” He shifted. “Not that you’re wrong. About thenervous part.”

Loki cocked his head. “But?”

Lang edged forward, after a moment, and satdown. He started taking off his shoes. “Just curious, I guess. How you, uh,ended up here.” He paused, and added, “not quite sure how I did, sometimes.Ex-con running around with a bunch of superheroes.”

That caught Loki’s attention. “Ex-con?”

“Um - ex-convict?” Lang looked self-conscious.“You didn’t know that? I guess, why would you.” Loki raised his eyebrows anotch, and he shrugged one shoulder. “I used to steal things. Used to! I don’tanymore.”

He seemed genuinely concerned that Lokimight…judge him? He felt the urge to laugh. “I think you will find,” he saiddryly, “that a bit of thievery is hardly the worst anyone here has done.”

There were three beats of awkward silence.“Guess that’s true,” Lang said. He stuck his feet in the water. “So, uh. Youand Captain - Steve Rogers, huh?”

Loki felt himself tense. “If you have somethingto say,” he said, and heard his voice shift, turning silky and cold, “say it tome, and keep your mouth shut around him.”

Lang’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t trying to - oh,Jesus, I wasn’t saying - no judgment. None. Promise. Don’t kill me.”

Loki flashed his teeth. “I will not. Steve wouldbe upset.” Lang looked like he was considering bolting, and Loki looked away,flicking his eyes skyward.

“I’m serious,” Lang said. “No judgment. I wasjust, well, surprised. Not that I thought - or that it’s any of my business-”

Surprised, Lokithought bitterly. That someone like him would take up with something likeme? “You are right,” he said, starting to stand. “It is none of yourbusiness.”

“Hey,” Lang said, “seems like you’re doingbetter than I did with my marriage for a while.” Loki paused, surprised. “Yeah,”he said. “Turns out getting arrested and going to jail is hell on arelationship. It got better,” he said, almost defensively.

“Where is your family now?” He asked. Lang saidnothing, and after a moment Loki said, “ah.”

He laughed, a little weakly. “Great timing,right?” Clearing his throat, he added, “but I’m not here to complain to youabout my family problems.”

Loki considered if that was pointed, and decidedit probably was not.

“It’s a little surreal,” Lang went on, when Lokididn’t say anything. “Cap - uh, I mean Steve, he was my childhood hero. Likeeveryone else, but…I grew up on the old comics - Captain America and theHowling Commandos, you know. Reading about him and Bucky Barnes.”

Loki narrowed his eyes. “Old comics?”

“You didn’t - oh, right. Aliens.” Lang shook hishead. “They sure were something. I mean, um, not…historically accurate. I’mpretty sure. Unless there was really a Nazi vampire?” He looked at Lokicuriously.

“I’ve never asked,” Loki said dryly. Lang seemeddisappointed, but Loki resolved to see about finding some of these comics. “Isthat what you wanted to talk about?”

“Not exactly.” Land grimaced. “I’m not sure,honestly. Just trying to figure things out. I don’t really know any of you.Clint and I have been hanging out, some, but…we’re a team, right? I figure Ishould know the people I’m on a team with.”

What Loki thought was you have been spendingtime with Barton and are still speaking to me, but he supposed that mightbe…uncharitable. He and Barton seemed to have reached a kind of…uneasytruce. They were not friends, and perhaps never would be. But in the Raft, whenLoki had been teetering on the edge of sanity, he had offered something likeconcern.

Then something else Lang had said struck him. We’rea team. It was still not easy, to think of himself as part of that we. Hemight have claimed these people as his, but thinking of himself as oneof them was…different.

“Loki?” Lang said, sounding nervous, and herealized he’d been quiet for a while.

“I am not an Avenger,” he said. “Not exactly.You should remember that.”

Lang frowned. “What do you mean?”

“What I said,” Loki said. “My statusis…somewhat nebulous.” He paused. “Though I suppose none of those here areAvengers anymore, exactly.”

He could feel Lang studying him. “What you didwhen we were fighting Iron Man and those guys - that was magic. Right?”

“Mm.”

“It was…pretty incredible. I’ve never seen anythinglike that before, the big snake thing-”

“Sorcery is rare on your planet,” Loki said.“Wanda is…unusual.” Still, he couldn’t help but be flattered, which wasprobably the point.

Lang cleared his throat. “Speaking of, uh,planets…where is Thor?”

Loki thought of the long silence, his ownuncertainty, his own fears, and felt his expression close. “Asgard,presumably.”

“You don’t know?” Lang sounded shocked. Lokiturned his head to look at him coldly.

“No,” he said. “I am exiled from Asgard, so Ihave no means of finding out.”

Lang blinked. “Oh,” he said faintly.“Uh…sorry.” Loki looked back away and did not respond. “Well…nice to talkto you,” he said eventually, plainly awkward, uncomfortable. “See you later?”

This man, Loki thought. He came to you. Nojudgment. A thief, a liar. In older days, the kind of person Loki mighthave claimed for his own.

“You asked how I got here,” Loki said. “Isuppose the simplest answer is that Steve saved my life once, and I did notunderstand why. I wanted to. Needed to. And then I could not walk away.” Heclosed his mouth.

That was enough. All he wanted to say.

“I can understand that,” Lang said, to hissurprise. “Finding someone who…believes in you. It’s good.”

Loki didn’t reply, and after several longmoments he heard Lang leave.

That was it, wasn’t it? he thought, looking downinto the water. The first of all the small steps that had led him here. Steve,believing that Loki’s life was worth saving.

Maybe it was; maybe it wasn’t. But that Stevebelieved it, had believed it even then…that was worth something.