#someone once said I had like 26 fics about them which wasn’t true however it’s currently 17 I think so we’re getting up there

[lovely-v]

Me after finishing a fic: surely I have completely exhausted my ability to write fic for this ship like what else do I even have to say at this point

Me the next day: okay so what if—

[uwuwriting]

Moments in the life of Y/N L/N

Okay this is LONG. I kid you not it took me like a week to write and I’m so proud of it. It’s a Shirakumo x Reader fic but Shirakumo makes a cameo like three times??? Yall seemed to like the hc with his daughter so here is a some insight in her life and the reader’s. Love yaa. 💖💖💖

rules

warning: blood, description of injuries, angst, mentions of death and unplanned pregnancy, some fluff here and there.

Age 17

They were dancing in his living room. They were having a sleepover just like they did when they were kids and their parents would let them live in each other’s houses for days. Music was being blasted from the speakers of her phone as he was twirling her around his room. Giggles filled the space between them as the exchanged warm smiles and lovestruck looks. The song came to an end but they didn’t part from each other. Laying her head on his chest, she could feel his heartbeat strong and steady against her ear. 

“I could dance with you all day.” she whispered so lowly he barely caught her words. 

“Save your energy for our wedding day baby girl.” he smiled down at her, leaving a peck on the crown of her head. “I can’t wait to call you Mrs. Shirakumo.”

“Yeah I bet by how much you talk about it you dumb cloud. Let’s finish high school first though.” she rested her chin on his chest, their gazes meeting as she matched his soft smile with one of her own. “I don’t want to be that weird married couple that is still in high school.”

“Well we are 17 baby.” he pushed her lightly off his chest, bringing his hand to rest on her cheek. “We can start a family by the time we are 20. I will have opened the agency with Shouta and Hizashi by then.” 

She laughed softly at his words, the future they had in front of them seemed so bright so perfect. Too perfect to be true. As they swayed lightly from side to side neither of them knew what awaited them. How the future they had dreamt together would soon be shattered to millions of pieces.   

Age 20

She was sleeping soundly in her crib. It had been such a challenge to get her to bed that night. The strong winds hitting the house and the howls as they passed by scared the poor three year old to the point that even her mother's embrace couldn’t calm her down. Sky always loved looking at the sky, not only because she would joke that she was looking at herself but also because she got so mesmerized by the clouds. They never scared her, not even when they became dark and angry lightning spewing from deep within them. Storms never scared her. But wind terrified her. The howling and the sheer strength they hold sends shivers down the poor girl’s spine. 

“You really are a handful you know…” Y/N was still in her baby’s room, staring at the ball of light blue hair as she slept soundly. She loved her daughter with her whole being. Sky was her world. She had managed to feel the void that he left behind. She was the reason why Y/N was able to pull herself out of her grief. She was the reason why Y/N found purpose in her life again. His death was the point of no return for her. Accompanied by the sudden revelation of her pregnancy, the emotions had become too much. Too intense for her to handle. She had considered dropping it. Ending the life they had created short. She was scared and alone, grieving for the lost of her love and everything seemed like a black hole, sucking her in. But she kept the baby and she couldn’t imagine her life without her little girl. It had been almost three years since he left this world and despite it all, it hurt just the same. 

Age 23

“Mama, who is that next to you?” Y/N had been typing mindlessly on her laptop for the past hour now. A magazine had asked her to write some exclusive descriptions for some of her photos that they were using. She had come to realize that being a professional photographer was a really hard job. But she was managing. ‘This is a talent Y/N! Look how cool I seem in this one. We are definitely hiring you as our personal photographer when we open the agency!’ Small hands placed a photo on her lap. Sky had been flipping through old photo albums while her mother worked. She seemed to be really interested in her mother’s old albums. 

Now Y/N had come face to face with a memory she had buried deep in her mind. One she wished to never let go of but simultaneously never wanted to relive. Oboro had taken her to a water park for their anniversary. It had been a school day and they had agreed to just skip class and enjoy their day together. She had bought him a Polaroid camera so he could take photos with his friends. She hadn’t met them, their schedules never matching. He had insisted that the very first memory he would make was with her and once the photo had been printed he had given it to her.  

“That’s…” Sky saw the color from her mother’s face drain and she promised to herself that very day that she would never bring this up again. If it hurt her mom it wasn’t worth it. “That’s your daddy.”

Age 26 

Her little girl was about to turn 10. In a few days they would be celebrating her birthday and Y/N couldn’t help but feel sad. She could remember the first time she held her as if it was yesterday. She was in a very bad place back then. Sky was the only ray of light in her life. Moving to another country after the death of the father of her child was a handful for the young mother. But now, after almost a decade in America, she could say with confidence that their lives were pretty good. 

Sky had gotten into martial arts really early on and now could beat anyone up if she wanted, that’s what her two friends said at least. If you asked her however, she would raise her right arm which was broken. I get my butt kicked, no thank you. In truth her arm hadn’t been broken while she was practicing. She broke it on her way to practice but she still blamed the sport for her misfortune. A cat was stuck on a tree and she tried to free it, by climbing on the tree herself. Everything was fine until the branch she was sitting on broke and she came crashing down. Sure she could have used her quirk, make a small cloud and save herself but she prioritized the salvation of the cat. Her mother wasn’t happy when she found out. Now Sky had to learn to do everything with her left hand for the next two-three months. 

“Hey baby, I’ve got something for you.” Y/N picked her head inside the room, her hands behind her back holding onto a small box. 

“Mom my birthday is in two days, can’t you wait?” Sky laughed at her mother’s antics. Sitting down next to her, Y/N brought the box to her daughter’s lap waiting for her to open it. Opening it she was met with a pendant. It had a short chain and a small turquoise stone in the middle. Fiddling with it, Sky felt three engravings on the back.

“It has our initials on it.” Letting out a sigh she pet her daughter’s hair. “It was originally mine with only two engravings but now I’ve added yours as well.” Sky knew who must have given it originally to her mom. She was a smart girl after all, it didn’t take much for her to realize who she was referring to. Launching herself at her mom, she wrapped her arms around her neck burying her face in her hair. Silent tears fell from her eyes. It had been some time since not having him around got to her. She had grown to realize that he was gone and she could do nothing to bring him back. When she was younger, not having a father would usually bug her when she saw others with their dads but her mother helped her bury the feeling. 

“A little gift from your daddy.”

Age 29 

Middle school wasn’t that bad. Now in her first year, Sky was doing pretty well. She would rant to her mother about some of her classmates using their quirks and being obnoxious to those who had lesser ones or none at all. Y/N had agreed to her abandoning martial arts and now she is learning volleyball. They were happy. Deciding for a career had never been a topic they had dwelled upon. Y/N wasn’t worried, her little girl was still young and she had a few years before she would have to start considering her options. 

“Someone from a hero school in Japan came to our class today.” They were eating dinner and talking about their day. Y/N’s first thought was UA. It was the most prestigious school specializing on the hero department back when she was still in Japan. Maybe it was still and they came here to debrief the kids on what the school could provide. Or maybe it was another school. “This lady came to talk to us about hero work and what not. She was dressed weird, said she was a hero who graduated from that school herself.” Y/N had always feared that her daughter would fall into the path of heroism. She wouldn’t- couldn’t hold her back. Her job as a mother was to support and protect. But how could she protect when her baby runs into danger without a second thought? How could she support when she has experienced first hand what the hero world can take from you? How could she be there for her baby if she was afraid that history would repeat itself, snatching the last light in her life away from her?

“I think I want to be a hero.”

Age 32

The call had been short. She hadn’t let them explain everything, just where her little girl was hospitalized. Her baby. Her life. She knew it would lead to this. To her baby being on the brink of death. She didn’t get the details. A large attack had taken place at a hospital and many heroes had been called in, students amongst them as well. Many of those said heroes had been gravely injured or had passed. The villain was said to be ruthless, unforgiving to both the heroes and the surrounding area. It was a tragedy. You have lived through one too many tragedies, she thought to herself as she rushed through the airport. She had gotten on the first flight to Japan and after an agonizingly long journey she was finally here. Hang in there baby please hang in there. 

The taxi arrived at the hospital in an hour. It was packed, swarming with the relatives and friends of the heroes injured in the attack. Soon she spotted a group of kids with the familiar UA uniform. How long had it been since she last saw that uniform in real life? How long since she had been in a similar situation? Would it really end like his story did? Would she really lose the last remnant of him in this world? No! Sky’s story is different from Oboro’s. Sky is different from Oboro. Her baby would survive. 

Pushing through the small crowd she spotted a doctor. 

“Excuse me I’m looking for L/N Sky, she’s a student at UA.” The man looked at her and looked down at a clipboard, scanning through the names of the many patients. 

“Room 573.” And with that he left her in the hallway with no update on Sky’s state, nothing. Looking at the numbers on the side of every room, she searched for it. This was too familiar. Too similar to that day. She didn’t like it. 

568. He’s in critical state.

569. It seems he received severe head trauma from falling debris. 

570. We don’t think he is going to wake up. 

571. He has a few hours. 

572. I’m sorry for your loss.

“Are you here for Cosmic Cloud?” A blond man asked behind her. Her breathing was becoming erratic at this point. “L/N Sky, are you here for her?”  His voice was rough, barely over a whisper. “Hizashi Yamada, I’m one of her teachers.”  She remembered that name, one of Shirakumo’s friends. She nodded not able to find her own voice to respond. Her panic rose at his clouded expression, his eyes losing the little spark they previously had. “I’ll find you her doctor, you can go in.” And with that he left too. 

Pushing the door open she was met with the sight of her daughter, her body was full of bandages, tubes coming from her arms as multiple medicines dripped into her veins. Her heart monitor was steady, a strong beep every second. She had a bandage covering her right eye which was stained a faint red. The air caught in her throat at the sight. It was the same image she was met with 15 years ago. A soft knock came from the door behind her that wasn’t completely closed as she was still frozen on the spot. 

“Mrs. L/N?” it’s the doctor and behind her stands Sky’s teacher. “Your daughter is sadly in really bad shape. I’m not going to sugarcoat it. Her right ankle was broken from some rubble while the visor broke while she was still wearing it, thankfully she didn’t lose her eye but it will certainly leave a scar. Her left hand was slashed from elbow to wrist by a sharp object. The worst damage is on her back.” Hizashi was supporting her now, hands on her shoulders holding her up as tears cascaded down her cheeks. How can there be worse damage after all of this? “During the attack she must have been hit by some sort of blade or sharp edge, it pierced her back in three places. We managed to stitch her up but as you can imagine the damage cannot be undone.She... She’s in a coma from the shock, I’m sorry. I’ll..I’ll be around the corner if you need me.” 

A coma. Her little girl was in a coma. This was it. This was were she would lose her too. 

“She was conscious when the medics found her.” Hizashi said. “She was stopping the bleeding of one of her classmates completely ignoring her own.” He paused looking at the hospital bed, his eyes catching a glimpse of the sky blue hair. “They are very alike y’know. A carbon copy both physically and in personality. While she was in my class it was like having Oboro next to me again.” She snapped her head up meeting his eyes that were brimmed with tears. He had figured it out ages ago it seems. Whispering a small apology she turned back to the bed, fresh tears wetting her blouse. 

“I know you are going enough already but….” He sighed pinching his nose a frown making its way on his face. “But you need to know, YOU deserve to know.”

“Oboro is alive.” 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAG TEAM AY: @brattyquirks @the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei​

[maple-keenes]

the second disaster: playing dumb gets you nowhere*  *with exceptions

the first disaster | the second disaster | the third disaster | the fourth disaster | the fifth disaster

summary: on a visit to the local museum, virgil meets and attractive tour guide and manages to convince him (somehow) that he doesn’t believe that egypt is a real place. 

it gets better. 

warnings: cursing, remus, deceit

pairings: analogical and brief demus/dukeceit/the ship with no name

wc: 1587

a/n: you don’t need to have read the other fics in the series to read this one, but i’d recommend it because i spent a lot of time on them 

um, there’s a mention that patton says he doesn’t know who virgil is, which if you’re following the canon of this series wouldn’t make any sense, so let’s just assume logan described him so badly that patton didn’t recognize him. 

taglist: @analogical-chaos @ilovemygaydad @alltimevirgilant @virgiliananxiety @romanticsanders @theincediblesulk @wroammin @creativity-killed-thekitten @bitchyybabyy400 @wooflesthatwoof @lyditist @heck-im-lost @max-is-tired @demurphart @thelowlysatsuma @land-of-dragons-and-frogs @theeternalspace @magicallygrimmwiccan @weirdsthenewnormal @romansleftshoulderpad @andrewisabraveboy @satanblessi @supbitchss @diamondrush862

- 

"Why did I have to come with you?" Virgil moaned as Roman dragged him towards the local museum. "I don't need the research!" 

“Museums can be cool! Come on, I just need someone here to make snarky comments about the birds in the wildlife wing,” he pleaded. 

Virgil rolled his eyes and relented. “God, I hate you.” 

“Love you too!”

Roman dragged him all the way to the wildlife exhibit he was supposed to be studying, and several families were confused by the angry emo 24-year-old being pulled by the arm by a bubbly 25-year-old theater kid to a random exhibit in the museum. 

Virgil and Roman had been close friends since high school, where they met through the misadventures of a mutual friend, Patton, and Roman’s brother Remus. The four had drifted apart over the years, but the two of them had gone to the same college and now, three years later, Virgil was still stuck going to this stupid museum with Roman. 

As Roman diligently took notes on the exhibit he was supposed to be researching, Virgil wandered aimlessly around the Egyptian exhibit and looked at all the… old stuff. (He was never really one for history. Too many white people pillaging and colonizing and not enough sword-fighting.)

He leaned over to look into one of the glass cases, and the attendant walked over with a smile on his face. “Interested in these artifacts?” 

“Oh… they’re cool. I was just looking around, really.”

The attendant nodded, still giving him that tight-lipped why-are-you-here smile. “Okay. These are scarab beetles. They were very common in ancient Egypt, and they were worshipped back then. They were sacred animals in Egypt.”

Virgil glanced at the attendant, who seemed to be about 26 or so, and noticed that he was… was it appropriate to say that he was smoking hot? He had tattoos up and down both arms, and glasses that framed his face perfectly, and Virgil’s bisexual ass was crying for this man to keep talking to him. 

“Yeah,” Virgil said, running a finger along the edge of the case, “I used to think that wasn’t a real thing until I came here.”

His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, before blurting out, "You didn't think Egypt was a real place?" 

Virgil, who was now slightly mortified, did nothing but nod. Oh, god, this hot guy thinks I'm an idiot, he thought, still smiling at the tour guide. “I -” 

“My stars, we get some idiots here…” he mumbled, and Virgil started, a bit offended. 

“So what if I don’t think Egypt is real?” he asked, affronted. “What are you going to do about it?”

The attendant blinked once, twice, apparently at a loss for words. “I…” 

“You know what, I’m going to go now, and you can mull over that,” Virgil said and then stalked out of the exhibit, head held high with the tour guide still tripping over his words behind him. 

He strolled through the museum for a little bit longer before catching up with Roman, who was still diligently taking notes on the exhibit he was supposed to. He glanced up when Virgil approached him and shut his notebook. 

“Where were you?” Roman challenged, frustrated. “You just wandered off.” 

Virgil stuck his tongue out at him. “Sorry, dad. I was just in the Egypt exhibit; I accidentally convinced a guide that I didn’t believe in it, too.” 

“You did what now?” 

He rolled his eyes, as if this was a normal thing that Roman should have been able to comprehend. “I convinced the guide - who was ridiculously attractive, by the way - that I didn’t believe that Egypt was a real place.” 

Roman stared at him, openmouthed. “You - oh jesus, you’ve got a crush on this guy, don’t you?” 

“How’d you know it was a guy?” Virgil said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Because I know these kinds of things, Virgil. You treat girls with so much more reverence than you do guys, so this crush is a guy.” 

He pouted. “I don’t have a crush on him. I just liked messing with him.” 

Roman folded his arms across his chest. “Describe him.” 

“What?” 

“Describe him,” he repeated. “Do it.”

Virgil stared at his best friend and then sighed. “He had like, really soft brown hair that looked really nice, and round glasses, and green eyes that were almost blue, and his face looked really intelligent but sweet at the same time, and - why are you /laughing?”

“You’re so gay for him! Oh my god!” Roman doubled over with laughter. “That’s so cute, it’s baby’s first crush.” 

“They will never find your body.” 

He glared at Virgil. “You’re awful, I hope you know that. Come on, let’s go back to the Egyptian exhibit! We can still find him!”

“No, we can’t, and it’s not worth it.” Virgil shrugged. “You done?” 

“I can’t believe you’re just giving up on true love like that!” Roman cried, exasperated. Several families shushed him, very annoyed. He frowned and turned back to Virgil, who was giggling silently.  

Virgil, finally recovering from his fit of giggles, said, “I’m not giving up on true love. It’s a crush, if that.” 

“Ugh, you’re the worst,” he replied, sticking his notebook in his back pocket. “Let’s go, then.” 

Roman, who was a wise man (sometimes) knew that there was essentially no convincing Virgil now that he’d made up his mind, so they went home. 

It was the next day when the guide, who’s name was Logan, and who was 26 years old, was with his friend DC, who was quite frustrated with Logan. 

“So you’re in love with him -” 

“Felt that he was attractive,” he corrected.

“And you just let him leave!” DC threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. “Logan, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you!”

“I don’t know what you want me to do!” Logan exclaimed, pacing the room. “I just thought he was attractive and I wanted to get to know him a bit better, but he left, so, oh well.”

DC sighed loudly and glared at him. “I hate you. I hate you so much. Okay, I’m calling Patton and seeing if he knows anyone who fits that description because I’m /sick of your /bitching and I want you to see this guy again.” 

He rang up Patton, who said, “No, I’ve never heard of anyone like that. Do you mind if I try my friend Remus?”

Remus, by some strange stroke of luck, was the brother of the man who had gone to the museum with Logan’s crush, and he directed DC to his brother, Roman, who was the best friend of the man, who’s name was Virgil. 

“Virgil,” Logan said, savoring the way it rolled off his tongue. “Isn’t that such an elegant name, DC?” 

DC flipped him off as he scribbled down Virgil’s number from Roman. “Yeah, thanks, Roman. And tell your brother I said he sounds sexy.” A pause. “No? You won’t? Okay.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “You’re awful.” 

“I just got you the number of the man of your dreams,” he replied, handing it to Logan, who nodded in thanks. “But, yes, I am incorrigible. However, he did sound really sexy.” 

“I’m texting him, I can’t hear you.” 

Me 8:34 PM 

Hello! I am Logan. I was the tour guide at the museum the day you told me you didn’t believe in Egypt, and I was hoping we could meet for coffee and I could tell you all about Egypt… and myself, if you’re interested? 

And the rest was history. 

I mean, that’s not the end of the fic, I’ve still got to get us to the next disaster by the end of this one, but like, it’s written history. Recorded history. 

You get it. 

It was only five months later that Logan was nervously tapping his foot against the ground in the Egyptian exhibit, which was closed down for a special event. 

Logan had started working in the archaeology department at the museum, so he still worked there, and therefore was able to shut down the exhibit for a ‘special event’. 

Y’all aren’t dumb. You know he’s proposing. 

It had only been five months, sure, but ever since the first date Logan had known that this grumpy young man was his absolute soulmate. They complemented each other’s personalities perfectly, they were best friends, and their friend groups were now melded, meaning that the six of them were all quite close. And so Logan had Roman, Remus, Patton and DC’s blessing to propose to his emo boyfriend, and that is where we join him. 

Virgil poked his head into the exhibit, eyes widening when he saw his boyfriend down on one knee with a box in his hand. “Holy shit -” 

“Virgil, you are -” 

“Yes!” 

Logan sighed. “Can I finish?” 

“No, shut up! I’m saying yes, save the sappy crap for the wedding!” Virgil beamed and ran over to Logan, wrapping him in a tight hug. “I love you so much.” 

He smiled and hugged Virgil back. “I love you too.” 

So they were married two months later, in a lovely park with friends and family and Remus’s dog, who was the most important member of the wedding party. 

It was two years later that they adopted their son, Remy. He was only a month old when they brought him home, but he was the final addition to their family, and Logan and Virgil were happy. 

Even without the existence of Egypt. 

[blackmissfrizzle]

A Tale of Two Soldiers- Part 2

Title: A Tale of Two Soldiers- Part 2

Pairing: Bucky x black!reader, Erik x black!reader

Summary: Erik attends the readers birthday party.

Word Count: 5150

Warnings: SMUT (18+), cussing, Erik being Erik

Read Part 1 here.

A/N: This is my first MCU fic and Erik fic. Please don’t hate me if its trash lol! There will definitely be multiple parts.  This is set after Black Panther but before Infinity War. Please reblog if you really like it!

A/N: Sorry this is so long, but I had so many ideas for this part and I didn’t want to break it up in mini-parts.

Your birthday party was in full swing. The dj was playing a mix of 80s to current music, the food smelled delicious, and you were surrounded by family and friends. The only thing that was missing were your friends on the run: Steve, Nat, Sam, and Bucky.

Your outfit was a simple, black maxi dress with black wedges, and a gold hoop earrings, which unfortunately matched Erik’s which was, a black t-shirt with black adidas joggers and his gold canine grill, which caused your family to believe you were a couple as soon as you stepped out.

“Girl, you sure he ain’t your man,” your oldest sister, Jemilah wondered as she pointed her cup to Erik while he was talking to your brothers and brothers-in-laws.

“Yes heifer! I’m sure that he’s not my man. Why you asking that stupid ass question?”

Casey, the second youngest interjected, “Because he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since the party started.”

“Well, you need to tell him that, because the way he looking at you telling me he in love and he gon be breaking your back tonight,” Jemilah claimed.

You just told your sisters that Erik was just watching out for you, because he knew you could get a little buck wild when you drank and he didn’t want you to act a fool in front of your family. Soon, they dropped the topic to start gossiping about some of the party goers and you were thankful the attention was off of you for a while. However, your respite was short live, because your mom was strutting towards you with a man who gave you Morris Chestnut vibes with his physique and beautiful skin.

“Y/N, dear, this is Malcom. Malcom, this is my daughter, Y/N, the birthday girl.”

You shook Malcom’s hand, which was smooth unlike Erik’s or Bucky’s. While you two exchanged pleasantries, your mom listed off Malcom’s credentials like she was reading his resume. You tuned her out while seeking a way out at her blatant attempt of matchmaking, when you suddenly felt a familiar warmth behind.

“Hey princess, one of your sisters said they needed your help with something.”

You gave Erik a silent thank you and told your mom and Malcom you catch them later. Somehow your mother caught you taking a break from everyone in the kitchen. “You know, you didn’t have to have your little friend help you escape. I’m just trying to help.”

Exasperated with the same conversation with your mother you sighed, “Help with what mama? I’m not ready to settle down, especially not with some lame lawyer.”

Your mother walked up to you and grabbed your arms, “Baby, Malcom is not lame. He’s a Morehouse man, does plenty of community service for kids of color, and he worked for Obama. The Barack Obama,” she stressed. “And you ain’t getting any younger.” Of course, your mama would be the only one to consider 26 old. “I don’t understand you, Y/N. Why you must be the only one out of 6 kids to rebel against everything. You chose to go to Howard instead of Spelman like your sisters did and if you were a boy you wouldn’t go to Morehouse like your brothers, then you had the nerve to join the Marines, and when you got discharged you did something even crazier, you let my crazy ass brother and his ridiculous friend Tony Stark talk you into joining the Avengers.”

Pulling away from her, you begged your mom, “Can we not argue about this today? I just want to enjoy my friends and family and celebrate my birthday. Is that too much to ask for?”

“Is it too much for me to ask for you to be happy and safe,” your mom threw right back. After a moment of silence, surprisingly, your mom agreed to drop it but promise you two would talk more about it tomorrow.

As you made your way back outside, you joined your siblings on the dance floor and began doing the bunny hop with them. Once that ended, the dj began playing Get It Ready by DJ Jubliee and you knew you were about the cut the fuck up. You felt Erik’s familiar presence behind you and once you heard ‘walk it like a dog’ you were grinding all up Erik like y’all weren’t at a family function. When the song was over you heard your dad clear his throat to break the lust filled gazes you and Erik were giving each other.

“Sorry, daddy,” you mumbled to your dad and ran off to join your sisters and Nakia, Okyoe, and Shuri at the tables. When you joined them, you heard Jemilah mutter to the others, “Mmmhmm, ain’t my man my ass.”

“Oh, he’s not. Y/N has another suitor back home,” Shuri happily confessed.

“Traitor,” you whispered in the princess’s ear.

Casey started whipping her head around as she was in search for someone, “Why he ain’t here then?”

“James does not feel well,” Okyoe admitted while she gave you a secret wink. Thank God, she lied for you, because even though you’ve done undercover ops for some unknown reason you can’t lie to your sisters that well.

“Describe him,” Jemilah ordered.

Thinking of Bucky automatically had you in a dream-like state, “Tall. Broad shoulders. Body of a Greek God. Oh, and his eyes. They’re this deep blue—”

“BLUE?” your sisters shouted.

“You really trying to give mama a heart attack. This man white?” Casey chuckled and you shook your head yes. You knew their outburst came from the fact that your mama had this goal of all her children have a black love relationship like her and your father. It wasn’t bad that she promoted black love, you really appreciated it, but she was harsh on y’all if you tried dating someone outside your race, she and Erik had that in common. You remembered when Casey brought back her white boyfriend during Christmas break one year and your mama was so hard on the poor boy, he didn’t make it to Christmas Eve dinner.

“He is. And I obviously don’t care what she thinks, so lets drop it ok,” you demanded and thankfully the women obliged.

You and the other women discussed the Wakanda Outreach program, when Casey swore, “Aww fuck! Here comes ‘Cousin Faith’.” Now you really didn’t have a Cousin Faith, her real name was Stephanie, but you and your sisters called her Cousin Faith because she was always trying to steal one of y’alls man, even after your sisters got married.

“Y/N, how the fuck you bag a prince,” Stephanie whined.

Clearly confused you looked at her crazy, “Girl, what are you talking about? I’m not dating any prince.”

“Not yet anyway. That dread-headed nigga, Erik. He was talking to your mama and daddy about how he sees a future with you, and said his last name is ummmmm… shit….it’s something foreign.”

“Udaku,” Shuri interjected.

“Yes that’s it,” Stephanie exclaimed. “And your mama walking around saying you marrying a prince and you’re gonna be princess of a country of black people. Girl she even kicked that lame nigga, Malcom out the party. Talking about she don’t want him to mess up your chances with Erik.”

Your sisters just stared at you with slacked jaws and wide eyes at this revelation. You only told them that Erik was an American close with the Wakandan royalty and worked for the Wakanda Outreach Program out in Oakland. Jemilah was the first to say something, “Whew chile. You better get ready for that wedding, because you know mama ain’t gon let up now she knows he’s a prince.” You just rolled your eyes at her and went in search for the soon to be dead prince of Wakanda.

Erik must have known you were looking for him, because when you put your sight on him he ran the opposite direction and went inside the house. The nigga was fast because he was nowhere to be found.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. where is Mr. Stevens,” you called out to the AI.

“In the downstairs bathroom by the kitchen. I have unlocked the door for you.”

You shouted out a thanks to the AI and proceeded to find Erik rolling a blunt in the bathroom. Wasting no time, you decked that nigga in his pitbull ass face. “Oh shit, princess! That hurt. What the fuck is your problem?”

Pointing a finger at the handsome but infuriating man, you responded, “What’s my problem? My problem is you telling my mama that you a whole damn prince!”

Erik rubbed his chin and smirked at you, “So what you’re saying is, you’re mad at me for telling the truth about being a prince, but you ain’t mad that I told your parents I have plans for making you my wife.”

Oh shit, you forgot about the part. Damn, now this nigga really thought he had a chance, but somewhere inside of you knew that the prospect of being Erik’s wife sounded ideal, but you couldn’t let him know. “That’s beside the point Erik. You knew my mama thinks of herself as a so-called matchmaker and you just add fuel to her fire. She’s not gonna stop until I become Mrs. Y/N Udaku.”

Erik couldn’t stop cheesing when he heard your name in front of last name, it gave him a sense of pride that he hope would become true someday. “Baby girl, I’m sorry,” He lifted your chin so you could make eye contact with him, “But after you were throwing that ass, your parents pulled me aside and started asking a bunch of questions about you and I.” At this moment in time Erik looked nervous and unsure of himself when he rubbed the back of his neck. “And, shit princess, I couldn’t lie to them. I wanted my intentions to be clear to them and I threw in my last name so your mama could stop pushing that wack ass Morris Chestnut wannabe up on you.”

With Erik’s declaration out in the open you couldn’t really be mad at him anymore. Rubbing at your temples, you said “I guess I understand. But you don’t understand that my mama is about to work my nerves even more this weekend.”

Erik got that devilish glint in his eye when he was up to no good and presented you with the blunt. You were automatically shaking your head no, because you didn’t smoke, and Erik knew that. “Erik, I can’t smoke that. I never smoke it right and I’ll be wasting the blunt.”

“Nah, its your birthday and I caused you some trouble at your party, so imma get you high,” Erik was practically pushing the blunt in your face. You jumped on the sink counter and took the blunt to your mouth so Erik could light it up. Your first couple of inhales had you coughing, but you finally got the hang of it and it was becoming smooth.

Sensing that you were comfortable with smoking, Erik was pushing the hem of your dress up and kneeling on the ground. “Boy what are you doing,” you questioned him with half hooded eyes.

Again Erik had that damn devilish glint, “Imma help you relax even further baby, so you won’t even be aggravated by your mama.” You just let out a sigh of content and was about to hit the blunt, when you felt Erik’s tongue on your pussy. First, he was making small, slow licks and began to pick up the pace until you felt an orgasm overcome you. “Please…please,” you begged.

“Please, what,” Erik mumbled.

“Please don’t stop,” you slurred out.

And when you didn’t think it was possible began flicking your clit even faster and inserted two curled fingers inside of you. It didn’t take long for you to gush all over Erik’s mouth and fingers. You were in a world of euphoria thanks to the blunt and Erik, that you ordered Erik, “Take your dick out.”

It took him a little while for the words to register in his brain, but once they did he was pulling down his pants and boxer briefs, “Shit, you ain’t gotta tell me twice.” Erik grabbed a condom and rolled it onto his hard length. Once, he was sheathed, you grabbed Erik by his dick and guided him inside of you. When he was completely inside, you both let out a sight of content, and then he began thrusting into with wild abandonment. You both knew this little fuck session couldn’t last long, because people at the party would notice you two were missing, so Erik made quick work and had you both cumming within two minutes.

After being thoroughly fucked by Erik, you two return to the party, him to the tables and you to the food to make y’all some plates. You just sat in Erik’s lap when you put his plate in front him when your eldest brother, Thomas, interrupted y’all from eating, “Damn, nigga! What the hell you do to my baby sister?”

Both you and Erik looked at each other confused. “What do you mean by that,” Erik questioned.

“Little miss thing over here,” Thomas said while pointing at you, “has said she will never make a man’s plate, because his arms and legs works just as well as hers and she be too damn hungry to make two plates.”

Erik looked at you adoringly while you just wanted to go under a rock and die. Thankfully, Casey slapped Thomas in the back his head, stating he needed to keep his damn mouth closed. Erik just gave you a small kiss on the cheek and a quiet thank you, and then y’all resumed eating without any more embarrassing moments for you.

It was about half hour later and it was time for you to open your presents. T’Challa, Shuri, Nakia, and Okoye designed your gift. T’Challa presented you with a long skinny box that was wrapped in onyx wrapping paper. You made quick work of the wrapping paper and opened the box, which revealed a sword, your preferred weapon.

“Its completely made of vibranium. I used training footage of your fighting technique and designed the sword to compliment you. Even if someone else got ahold of it, it wouldn’t be as deadly as it is with you. Its almost like Thor’s hammer,” Shuri explained.

“Whoa, that’s badass,” your twin nephews exclaimed in unison.

“Watch y’all mouths,” your mom reprimanded the boys while you gave a thanks to Shuri, Nakia, T’Challa, and Okyoe.

“Its our turn now,” Tony announced while he Pepper approach you. You watched your mom roll her eyes as Tony presented you with a manila envelope, not even trying to hold his disdain for him.

“Before you open that, I just want to tell you something Rhodey Jr.,” Tony held up his hands and stopped you from opening your gift. “I’m proud to say its been a pleasure from watching you grow up from that annoying little brat that Rhodey would bring here during the summers to a badass, intelligent young woman. And Pepper and I want to thank you for helping with everything, so you deserve this brat.”

You were on the verge of tears, but you knew Tony didn’t do crying so you just hugged him instead. “Whoa kid, you haven’t even open it yet,” Tony exclaimed as he patted you on your back. At that you went back to the envelope to discover a document. For a while you just sat there in silence as you read over the document a couple of times just to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you.

Getting tired of your silence, your Uncle Ray demanded, “Girl tell us what it says!”

Breaking out of your trance, you mumbled, “They gave me a 20% share of Stark Industries.” Instantly you went up to Tony and Pepper and pleaded with them to take it back, even with it just being 20% they just made you a billionaire. “Guys you can’t give this to me. This is too much. What about your future kids? They deserve this more than me. You gotta take it back,” you ranted.

“Y/N, no one deserves this more than you do. You work about as much as Tony and me on Stark Industries business, so 20% is nothing,” Pepper explained to you.

You knew that you wouldn’t win the argument, so you gave the couple another thank you and sat down for your final gift. Erik approached you and set down a gift bag in front of your face. “Happy birthday, princess.”

When you reached into the bag you pulled out three tickets, three Beyoncé concert tickets to be exact.

“Beyoncé?!?!?!?” you exclaimed.

“Yeah umm, I got ‘em for you and your sisters,” Erik responded shyly. “They’re meet and greets also. But I got the whole day plan for y’all: massages, mani and pedis, hair appointments, and a shopping spree.” Your jaw dropped more when Erik listed what he had planned for us that day. You couldn’t understand how someone so aggravating, annoying, and selfish could be so thoughtful and selfless at the same time.

“Do you need a wife, girlfriend, side ho, concubine or something? Because damn nigga, that’s one hell of a birthday present,” Casey blurted out, causing her husband to tell her to shut up and sit her ass down, and Jemilah to punch her in her shoulder.

Erik chuckled and waved his hand, “Na ma, I’m good. Besides I only got eyes for one Y/L/N,” Erik stated while looking you dead in the eyes. All the women at the table practically sighed in amazement at Erik’s confession. Pointing at the gift bag, Erik mentioned there was another present in the bag. This time you brought out a small velvet box and fear overcame you. You heard your mom whisper to your dad hoping it was a ring and you were hoping for the complete opposite. Noticing the apprehension on your face, Erik calmed you down, “Chill out, its not a ring. I’m not proposing yet.”

Your mama nudged your dad in his ribs, “You hear that Charles? He’s not proposing yet.” And your dad just responded with a grunt, still not giving his full approval yet. “I like you more and more with each passing moment young man,” your mom called out to Erik.

Relief overcame you and that’s when you opened the box, revealing a necklace with a black and gold jaguar pendant inscribed with a Wakandan text.

“Warrior princess,” Erik said pulling you out of your trance.

“Huh?”

“It says warrior princess. You can kick anybody’s ass, so you’re a warrior, and you’re my princess, so you’re a warrior princess,” Erik explained.

“Girl, if you don’t marry him, imma beat your ass personally and then take him for myself,” your Aunt Charlene blurted out.

You couldn’t help but laugh at your outspoken aunt’s words, but you also knew she would keep her promise, which made you briefly think of a future with Erik. Not wanting to dwell on those thoughts too long, you gave him a kiss, thank him for your gifts, and whispered in his ear that you would properly thank him in the bedroom later on that night, which resulted in him growling in your ear and rubbing on your ass in front of your whole family.

After you finished receiving the rest of your gifts, your Uncle James pulled you to the side. “Here, this came a couple of days ago and I didn’t want you to open in front of everyone,” James declared as he handed you a package.

You knew it couldn’t be a gift from your uncle, because he already gave you his earlier. Inside of the package was a sketchbook, which confused you because you couldn’t draw for shit, but once you open it you knew exactly who sent the book. It was from Steve. He sent you a book full of drawings of you with him, Sam, Nat, or Wanda. There was a picture of you struggling doing your hair during wash day and Sam just laughing at you, another one of you and Nat flat on your asses because y’all managed to take each other down at the same time, one of you having a heart attack while Wanda lifted you in the sky with her powers, and one of you and Steve watching tv during one of your many movie nights. As you made your way through the drawings, a note fell out:

Sorry kid, we couldn’t make your birthday. Sam’s a little sad that we can’t go to the strip club, that you made me promise I would go to on your birthday. However, I’m thankful. I still don’t think I’m quite ready for that. It sucks that we’re not there but trust me we’re doing fine, which brings me to my point. Although, its very much appreciated STOP SENDING MONEY. I don’t want you to get caught, that’s the whole reason we kept you out of the fight in the first place. Don’t worry we’ll see each other soon. Happy birthday, Y/N! Love, S.R.

P.S.- Sam speaking here, I’m not little mad, I’m BIG mad that we’re not at the strip club! Don’t listen to the big guy, keep sending that money. Do you know what type of motels we’ve been staying in? Its not good for my delicate skin. Just kidding, I guess, stay safe kid and happy birthday!

Before you knew it, tears were falling onto the note. “Thanks for giving this to me Uncle James,” you mumbled in between sniffles.

Pulling you into a hug, your Uncle responded, “No problem.” You were making your way out his embrace when he pulled you back, “One more thing. Be careful with that Killmonger.”

You were about to ask your uncle how did he know about Erik’s military codename, but you remembered that he was a colonel and had access to the most sensitive information. Hugging him tighter you told Uncle James, “I will.”

You went up to your room to put away your gifts and clean your face when you got a notification from your kimoyo beads. Suddenly, Bucky’s face appeared before and he immediately took in your red and puffy eyes, “What’s wrong, doll?”

You waved him off, “Nothing. Steve sent me a birthday present, so the waterworks came.”

“That punk. I’ll make sure to beat him up the next time I see him. How’s the party?”

“Its great! Tony and Pepper gave me a 20% share of the company, Shuri—” you absentmindedly went out your room, not thinking about anyone seeing you talking to Bucky, then BOOM, you ran into your sisters in the hallway.

“Bitch, is that the Winter Soldier!?!?” Casey all but screeched. You immediately pulled them inside your room, so no one could see or hear them. “Y/N he’s fine! So, this was the James you were talking about. What kind of conditioner he use, because his hair is on point,” Casey rambled.

“I gotta handle this Buck. Talk to you later?”

Bucky saw your problem and quickly reassured you, “Yeah no problem, doll. Happy birthday and talk to you later.”

“Doll???” Both of your sisters questioned playfully.

Frustrated that they caught you talking to an international fugitive, you asked your sisters, “What the hell y’all doing up here?”

“We were coming up to say goodbye to our baby sister. What the hell you doing talking to an international fugitive,” Jemilah threw right back.

It was Casey turned to speak, “Didn’t he kidnap your ass once and kill T’Challa’s daddy?”

“Yes, to the first question, but he was brainwashed and no to the second, someone used his face as a mask and framed him,” you informed your sisters. Giving them both your puppy dog eyes, you pleaded to them, “Promise y’all won’t say anything. Even to your husbands.”

Jemilah and Casey came and sat on the bed with you and each grabbed one of your hands. “Y/N you know we won’t. If you say he didn’t do those things, then he didn’t do it. We trust you. Now you better hope mama don’t find out he’s the reason you’re not with Erik, because she would flip her shit,” Casey confided in you. Thankful for your sisters you hugged them and returned downstairs to say goodbye to the rest of the guests.

When you returned back to your room, you found Erik without his shirt laying on the bed and scrolling through his phone. Deciding to skip a shower for now you got out of your outfit, just leaving you with your bra and panties on and joined Erik on the bed. “You know, you didn’t have to give me all those presents for my birthday. I would’ve been fine with one or the other,” you whispered to Erik.

“No, baby girl. You deserve that and so much more. I just wanna show you how much I appreciate you.”

“Honestly E, I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” you said as you traced his scars.

“Are you for real,” Erik asked incredulously as he rolled your body underneath him. “Princess, you saved my life up on that mountain. I owe you my life.”

The battle was getting tiring and you didn’t know if it would ever end, even with the help of the Jabri tribe. One second, you’re knocking out one member of the Border tribe, and then the next you see all of the Border tribe on their knees surrendering to the Dora. And what a sight to see, all of those men kneeling before women. However, you didn’t get to enjoy it for too long, as T’Challa called you over the comms. “Y/N, I need you to meet me on the mountain. Erik’s hurt.”

Dropping everything you had and running towards the mountain, you replied, “I’m on my way.” On your way towards the cousins you thought about how your stay in Wakanda wasn’t suppose to be about fighting a war against your ex-fling. When you came here it was for keeping an eye out onBucky and not wanting to return to America after the way Tony and Steve fell out because of the Accords, but here you are running towards a man, who you had a brief fling but intense connection with, who was also dead set on killing his cousin, because of the sins of his father.

“Bury me in the ocean, with my ancestors that jumped from the ships, because they knew death was better than bondage,” you heard Erik declare. You made it up to the panther mountain just in the nick of time, because Erik was pulling out the spear, but thankfully you stop him. “What the hell are you doing, Y/N,” Erik grunted.

“Saving your dumbass. What do you think?”

Erik chuckled and even near death’s door he was beautiful, “I see you still got jokes. I hope you know I ain’t getting lock’d up, so let go princess.”

“No.”

“No?” Erik echoed.

“Did I stutter nigga? No.”

T’Challa interrupted yours and Erik’s banter, “Y/N, I said help him, not antagonize him.”

Turning towards the rightful king, “Chill, I got this,” you assured him. Turning your attention to the would-be usurper, you instructed Erik, “You’re not dying today, I won’t let you.”  “All the shit you’ve done was payback for you and your dad, right,” you questioned.

At that Erik just shook his head, so you continued on. “But didn’t he just want you to come to Wakanda and experience its wonders?” Again there was another head nod from Erik. “So, why would you want to die? Yeah, you might have to spend a little bit of time locked up, but it won’t be forever. Your cousin understands your pain. You were abandoned as a child with no one in your corner, let T be in your corner now. Let Shuri be in your corner, let Queen Ramonda be in your corner, let me be in your corner!”

By now, both you and Erik had tears falling down. It was a rare moment where both of you were vulnerable and both of you were crying for the boy in Oakland who lost his innocence. You were confident enough that Erik wouldn’t remove the spear, so you let it go and cupped his face instead. “What King T’Chaka did to your father was wrong, but T’Challa is not his father, just like you’re not N’Jobu. He’s T’Challa and you’re N’Jadka, y’all can be better than your fathers ever were.”

“Ok, princess, you got me. Besides I still need to take your country bumpkin ass to Oakland,” Erik joked with you.

“Thank Bas,” T’Challa murmured off to the side.

“Nigga, how many times I gotta tell you I’m from Houston and that’s a major city, not some podunk ass town. Anyways you can’t convince me Cali is better than Texas. Y’all may have Tupac but we got Beyonce and Whataburger is better than In-n-Out,” you argued back with Erik, grateful that he decided to live.

“Whatever, I’ll prove you wrong. But are either one of you niggas gon help me or y’all just gon talk me to death,” Erik questioned. Both you and T’Challa shared a look before y’all rolled your eyes at Erik’s antics and helped him up. You both knew keeping Erik alive was the right thing to do, but you also knew he would sometimes make you regret the decision.

“E, babe, I just talked to you, you responded back as you absentmindedly traced his scars.

“Well, that talk convinced me to live. Now thanks to you, I have a family, I have a home, I have a noble purpose, I get to watch those Wakandan sunsets my dad always talked about. Baby girl, I owe you everything. I’ll be with you always, even if you decide to get with tin man, even though it would be a mistake, because I’m the better choice.” You playfully slapped Erik across his chest, which he thought was an invitation for play fighting.

A couple of minutes later, you ended up on your back again, and one of Erik’s legs in between yours. He cupped your chin, “I’m serious princess. I’ll never stop being thankful,” Erik confessed. For a while the pair of you stared in each other’s eyes until you reached up to kiss him. Then, Erik made quick work of getting rid of his and yours remaining clothes. Once you were both naked, he entered inside of you and for the first time ever, you and Erik made love and not fuck. While he was giving you slow deep strokes, and whispering sweet nothings and praising you in your ear, you fully admitted to yourself that you were falling in love with Erik and being Y/N Udaku-Stevens wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

TAGLIST: @blacknthemix @cosmicmelaninflower @blackdepressoexpresso @meishaabae @pastelastronomy24 @blackreaders-assemble @sonofnjobu @canumoveurseatup-no @chaneajoyyy @purple-apricots @black-mcu-imagines @thelateliterary @marvelmaree @princessstevens

[iatethepomegranate]

Homecoming Chapter 26

Tumblr is being a pain and hiding this from the tag again, so I guess I’ll have to take out the masterlist link again. Because functioning websites are for losers, apparently.

This is part of the Human Connection series. You can find the masterlist linked on my “tags and fics” page.

Pairing: DickTiger

Rating: Teen (this chapter)

Length: 3.2k

Summary: Tiger has his debriefing with Maxwell Lord.

Notes: Angsty chapter incoming.

Warnings: discussions of torture (with some detail), discussions of violence (with some detail), panic attack, vomiting, discussion of a past relationship age gap

***

Chapter 26

Maxwell Lord’s office was sparsely decorated with the barest of necessities: a desk, three chairs, a computer, a filing cabinet, a shredder. It was clear he did not intend to remain here full time. He sat behind his desk with a recording device. Tiger sat on the other side in a chair that was too soft for comfort. He felt like he was sinking.

“Well,” Maxwell Lord said, folding his hands on the desk. “It seems you’ve had an eventful few years.”

Tiger wanted to comment that Lord knew most of this information already because only a fool would send an agent undercover without any kind of oversight, but thought better of it. Dick and Helena took his comments in their stride, but Checkmate was more… formal. In some ways.

“Yes,” Tiger said. “I have.”

“I understand you are still in contact with Bertinelli,” said Lord. “She has provided recommendations of her own. I would be interested to hear yours.”

“Most Spyral agents who remain were unaware of their employer’s true intentions,” Tiger replied. “They could be rehabilitated...”

“But?”

“We need to discuss Bannon.”

“You were light on the details of his involvement,” Lord said. “I take it you wanted to speak about his behaviour as a whole?”

“Yes.” Tiger glanced at the recorder. It was still working. He was uncomfortable, but if this conversation did not go on record, it would be much easier for Checkmate to ignore his opinions.

“This recording will be transcribed and redacted,” Lord told him. “You know it’s confidential. No one can access it without authorisation. You can speak freely.”

Tiger had to remind himself to take a deep breath. “I ask your patience in this matter.”

Lord nodded. “Granted. Is this a difficult topic for you?”

Admitting weakness to his superiors never felt right… but it felt necessary this time. “Yes.”

“You have mentioned multiple encounters with Bannon. Shall we work through them chronologically?”

Tiger didn’t know what else to do, so he nodded.

“Tell me what happened after you were abducted from the store.”

Tiger did not like to think about it, let alone talk about it. He had only shared the barest of details at best, and only with Dick. Putting his thoughts in order felt like putting sandpaper on his brain.

“Bannon chained me to a wall,” Tiger said. “By the wrists. It was uncomfortable on its own, but then he struck me repeatedly in the face and torso. He demanded to know where I had been, where I was going and where Grayson was located. I refused to answer. He broke three of my ribs. My nose did not break, but I bled profusely. Those are only the injuries which left a mark.” He balled his hands into fists on his knees to stop them shaking. It was not effective. “He kept the room cold. He would leave me alone between beatings until I felt it. Shivering was painful, but I could not stop it. I was denied water. Had Grayson not come for me, denial of food was also likely.”

Lord sighed. “Tiger, the unfortunate reality is most spy organisations use these interrogation techniques for a reason. That is why we train our agents to withstand them.”

Tiger had to fight down the urge to punch him, or to run out of the room. He was not sure which would have prevailed if he had been unsuccessful.

“If you are implying that I am weak—”

“That is not what I am implying.” Lord was lying. Tiger could hear it in his voice.

“Shall I continue?” Tiger said, not waiting for an answer. “He knew which ribs were broken. He deliberately struck them to cause more pain. I am fortunate my lungs were not punctured by bone fragments.” Breathing hurt, as if his ribs were broken again. “I do not recall that as a common interrogation technique from my training. Risking the death of your prisoners seems counterproductive. The man simply enjoys hurting people.”

“He’s a rare breed,” Lord said. “We don’t have many people who are willing to inflict that level of suffering for interrogation purposes.”

“I know you have read the research: torture as an interrogation technique is ineffective. Prisoners, once they reach a breaking point, will say what the interrogator wants to hear, even if it is inaccurate.”

“Did you?”

“I was not in his grasp long enough. Grayson was, when his time came.”

“Had Grayson not located you, do you think you would have answered his questions?”

“I had hoped to delay long enough that information about Grayson’s location would be outdated.”

“You were in no condition to fabricate a believable lie?”

“I do not know.” Tiger gripped his knees, because if he didn’t hold onto something there was a chance he would walk about. Or punch Lord.

“So, you’re telling me Bannon was an effective enough interrogator that it’s difficult to lie to him?”

“No. Grayson lied to him often.”

Lord rubbed his chin. “That is interesting. Now, you say you encountered him again later.”

“He stabbed me in the shoulder. We were allies by then, to his knowledge.” Tiger hating thinking back to that fight. “Bannon started the fight when Bertinelli brought me back to Spyral. I did not expect he would attack an ally and was unprepared.”

“Do you know why he started that fight?”

“He said he wanted to prove my weakness to the director of Spyral.” That was something else Tiger hadn’t discussed with Dick. Dick knew there had been a fight, but not the details.

“Was he under orders to do this?”

“I am uncertain. Daedalus might have ordered him to weaken my connection to Bertinelli, but I have no evidence.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to ask him.”

Tiger’s stomach lurched. “I would prefer you did not.”

“Are you concerned he will know you spoke to me about this?”

“You know the answer to that question.”

“Well, it’s an important thing to know. If he chose to attack you while you were, to his knowledge, an ally, that does raise concerns. However, if he was under orders…”

Tiger wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. “What of Grayson?”

“Grayson has a great deal of valuable knowledge.”

“He forced me torture him. He placed Grayson in a machine he knew caused long-term medical problems. Even then, Grayson did not provide the information he demanded.” Tiger’s voice was rising, and he couldn’t stop it. “He caused Grayson severe life-changing injuries for no reason. He tormented me for no reason after I had already been forced to obey his orders. Bannon finds joy in hurting people. He likes it. After all the bullshit I went through to stop Spyral, the fact you want to recruit the man who—”

Lord held up a hand. “Tiger, enough. I understand this situation is distressing, but you must recognise you are too close to give an objective assessment. If you were in my place and you had a perfect candidate before you, who could save millions of lives if his energies are channelled correctly… if the only problem was he had harmed an agent of yours, can you tell me you would not consider—”

“No,” Tiger snapped, “I would not employ somebody who treated an agent in my care the way Bannon has treated me. I would be more concerned about retaining the talent I had instead of—”

“Do you intend to return to the field, Tiger?”

“I will not pass the psychological assessment. Because of Bannon.”

“But if you did pass?”

“I cannot answer that, because I would be a different person.”

“Your point about retaining talent is irrelevant if the talent is not retainable.”

That sentence was a knife through Tiger’s stomach. He’d never before considered that Checkmate would stop caring about him the instant he was no longer useful to them.

He should have known that. The foolishness of his youth had come to betray him once again. It did not matter that he had completed a high-risk years-long mission for Checkmate. It did not matter he had put his life, body and sanity on the line for them. If he was no longer useful, why would they care about his opinions, or even what happened to him?

Tiger was not a fool… until he was.

He wanted to leave.

A hand fell on his shoulder. He flinched.

“I’d like you to take the evaluation,” said Lord, “regardless of whether you believe you will pass. Same time next week. Afterwards, we can talk about your future with Checkmate. You’re a good agent, Tiger. It would be a shame to lose you.”

Tiger wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or hit something.

***

After the meeting, Tiger shut himself in a bathroom. In such a private building, each bathroom was clean and self-contained with a toilet, shower and sink. There was also a bench, on which Tiger now sat with his head cradled in his hands, trying to remember how to breathe.

He was failing.

He desperately wanted to hear Dick’s voice, but his devices were downstairs with the security guard. Tiger was not up for the journey yet.

Lord was going to recruit Bannon. What he’d done to Dick and Tiger did not matter. Tiger should have expected this. Checkmate may have been home to him once, but they were still spies. People were tools. They might try to repair them when they broke, but they would not hesitate to discard them if they thought it was a better use of their time. Especially when someone was too broken to be fixed by stitches and a few therapy sessions.

If Tiger was lucky, they might give him a medical discharge and some compensation. Assuming they didn’t discharge him for insubordination.

He felt sick. He threw up in the toilet. Then he sat on the floor, shaking.

This had been a bad idea. He should have known Checkmate would recruit Bannon, that what he said would not matter. Many of the people involved in Checkmate also had their hands in other operations… such as the Suicide Squad, which recruited violent criminals because they were violent criminals.

Bannon’s recruitment was nothing to these people. Tiger should have known better. He should have been prepared. This should not have hurt him as much as it did.

But he was hurt. Badly. He did not know how he would find the strength to get off the floor, walk down that long corridor, into the elevator and through security. Where would he find the strength to pretend he was okay long enough to get home safely?

Home.

Wayne Manor.

He was not sure how he felt about that. Checkmate had once been home to him, too. Even Spyral, after a while.

Spyral was gone. Checkmate was not the safe harbour it had pretended to be. Wayne Manor was…

Dick was there. Jason. Damian. Tim. Cassandra. Stephanie. Alfred.

They seemed to care about him. But so had Checkmate.

A knock on the door. “Tiger, get out here.” A woman’s voice. Helena.

What was she doing here?

Tiger pushed himself to his feet, flushed the toilet, washed his hands. Opened the door.

“What are you doing here?”

“You’ve been gone a while,” Helena replied.

“How—”

“My temporary clearance from my meetings with Lord still works,” she said. “Come on. Dick and Alfred are waiting, but Dick doesn’t look too good. We need to go.”

Tiger took a breath. “Okay.”

They started down the corridor.

“How did you know I was here?”

“I ran into Eimal at the security checkpoint.”

Tiger was quickly reaching his limit of surprises. “And how do you know Eimal?”

“He was part of the handover team who took the prisoners off our hands,” Helena replied. “Mentioned he knows you.”

“Knew me.”

Helena raised an eyebrow. “Ah, he’s your ex. Bit old for you, don’t you think?”

“Ten years is not—” Tiger stopped himself. “We are not having this conversation.” They reached the elevator and Tiger stabbed the down button. “I regret telling you I had an ex.”

“Ten years is an age gap I’d be concerned about for how young you were at the time.”

“Helena.”

“And I know he hurt you, so I don’t think I’m wrong.”

“It was a long time ago,” Tiger muttered. The elevator arrived. They entered.

“I was there when you started your mission with us, Tiger, even if I didn’t know your allegiances at the time.” Helena stared hard at him. “You were a mess.”

“I was not a mess,” Tiger lied.

Helena chuckled darkly. “Not only were you a prickly bastard, you were so… pensive.”

“Pensive.” Tiger almost wanted to laugh, but in his state, it would likely result in sobbing.

“You thought no one noticed how you’d just stare into space with that little frown of yours?”

She was saying things just to bother him now. “Little?”

“It’s a good thing I didn’t know he was your ex when we worked together,” Helena continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I probably would have punched him.”

“I can take care of myself, Helena.”

“No, you can’t.”

Pain swept through Tiger’s chest and he had to bite back tears. Helena must have been it, but she kept quiet. If Tiger were smarter, he probably would have filed his reaction away to examine later, but instead he tried to push it into a tiny corner of his mind that he would never visit again.

Helena sighed. “I hate to ask, but how did your talk with Lord go?”

“Badly.”

“They’re recruiting him?”

“I think so.”

“Fuck.”

“You suspected. Admit it.”

“Well, when I have to drag you out of a bathroom, that’s not the best sign.”

“If you tell anyone…”

“I won’t,” Helena promised. “But you should talk to someone when you feel up to it.”

Tiger held tightly to his composure. They reached the ground floor and stepped out. Muscle memory carried him through the security checkpoint, because his mind was finished. He placed the communicator back in his ear, strapped his watch to his wrist and slipped his phone into his pocket. And then that was it, until Helena pushed him to the car.

“I’ll talk to you later,” she said. “Take care of yourself. I mean it.” Then she walked off.

Dick waved at him through the car window. Tiger slid inside. He couldn’t quite get the seatbelt to click into place—his hands shook too much—so Dick did it for him.

“Are we ready, sirs?” Alfred asked from the driver’s seat.

“We’re good,” Dick said. “Let’s get out of here.” He leaned his head on Tiger’s shoulder as Alfred pulled away from the curb. “How’d it go?”

“Can we discuss this later?” If Tiger lost his composure now, he would not find it again for a long time.

“Sure.” Dick twined their fingers together. “Didn’t expect to see Helena today, but at least it was a nice surprise.”

Tiger chose not to comment. “How was your appointment?”

“Fine, I guess. They did lots of tests and shone a light in my eyes so now everything kinda hurts. They’re gonna call when they have results, then maybe I’ll start trying some medication. Assuming they’ll work when the migraines were caused by machines and not the frailty of the meatsuits in which we live.”

Tiger chose to ignore the end of that sentence. “Do you think traditional medicine will work?”

Dick shrugged. “Like I said, I’ll try anything. Obviously, I couldn’t tell them why I’m getting these migraines, which might be a problem. So, trial and error, I guess. We’ve got connections with researchers, so maybe we can figure something out.”

Tiger, not for the first time, had a terrible thought that Checkmate, if willing, could probably help. He did not voice it.

After today, he was not sure Checkmate would give him anything… even if he had lost years of his life to an undercover mission on their behalf.

He had to stop thinking about it before he broke.

Dick nuzzled his shoulder. “I’m gonna try and nap for a bit. Maybe it’ll buy me some time before my head explodes.”

“My shoulder is your pillow,” Tiger replied.

Dick laughed softly. “Thanks.”

***

Dick had to go straight to bed when they arrived home. It was bad timing; he knew something was wrong with Tiger, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

The migraine had eased somewhat by dinnertime. Dick didn’t feel up to eating, but he could use the company. And check on Tiger. The man gave him space during his migraines, since it was hard to tolerate another person’s presence, but that had also robbed Tiger of one of his usual private spots. And Tiger had looked like he needed some privacy… and a listening ear.

A soft knock on the bedroom door interrupted his thoughts. Dick called for them to enter. Bruce stepped inside.

“How are you?” he asked quietly. He didn’t reach for the light switch. Dick was grateful. He could use a few more minutes in the dark.

“A little better. Was thinking about coming to dinner.”

Bruce sat on the bed with him. “I tried to speak with Tiger earlier. He asked if it could wait, and Cass insisted he train with her instead. So, I called Helena.”

“Did she know anything?”

“She knew a little. Unless Tiger misread the situation, which I think is unlikely, it seems Checkmate will proceed with recruiting Bannon.”

Dick’s nausea returned. He had to take a few deep breaths. Bruce put a hand on his back, grounding him.

“So, that’s it,” Dick said when he felt well enough to speak. “They’re doing it. They’re fucking doing it.”

“I’m sorry.” Bruce rubbed his palm across Dick’s back in wide, slow circles.

“Tiger just took down Spyral for them, and this is how they repay him?” Dick glared into the darkness, thoughts spinning too fast for his head to take them in his condition. “Shit, just take me out of the equation for a second here. This guy repeatedly tortured and psychologically tormented one of their agents… and they’re cool with having him on board? How the fuck does that make any sense?”

“They don’t want to give up a resource they think they can use.”

“That’s the fucking problem. They’re not seeing Tiger and Bannon as people. They’re seeing them as resources.”

“You’re not wrong, Dick.”

The remnants of Dick’s migraine were quickly forming into a rage headache. “This is fucked.”

Bruce gently squeezed his shoulder. Dick tried to breathe out some of his anger; it wasn’t productive right now, and he didn’t want to make Tiger feel any worse when they would next be in the same room.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Bruce said. “I’ve had dealings with Checkmate in Gotham before. If they want those dealings to remain cordial, they need to respect this family.”

The significance of what Bruce said was not lost on Dick. “So, when are you telling Tiger he’s part of the family?”

“When we train together. Let me know when you think he’s up to it.” Bruce got up and offered Dick a hand. “Tiger and Cass are training in the batcave. We’ll grab them on the way to dinner.”

[technoskittles]

Fanfic author asks

I didn’t get any asks regarding this but I still kinda wanna answer the questions anyway so here goes

1. What was your first fic and could you stand to reread it today?

I refuse to say what my first fic was and that should be answer enough to the second part

2. What’s your most recent fic and how far do you think you’ve come?

Most recent fic is Something Good Can Work

I think I’ve come pretty far from when I first started writing. I know there’s some things I could always be better at, but I’m way happier with the stuff I was writing 5 and 10 years ago.

WAY happier

3. In your opinion, what’s your best fic?

Oh geez that’s kind of hard because there’s a few I’m pretty proud of.

If I had to name one, it’d probably be lost & different. It’s one of my longest oneshots to date and I ended up finishing it in 2 days so...go me.

4. In your opinion and without looking at any numbers, what’s your most popular fic?

Shot in the Dark. Hands down.

5. Is there any fic that makes you super happy to reread and remember you wrote that?

Pure Feeling probably. I think it’s mostly because it’s kind of out of place for me (I don’t typically do fics involving kids so it’s a nice change of pace)

6. Is there any fic that makes you super embarrassed to reread and remember you wrote that?

A lot of my older fics from when I wrote for Teen Titans and Soul Eater. Dark times man....dark times.

7. What’s the fic you most want to continue (unfinished or no)?

Pure Feeling absolutely. And I actually do want to finish Fall From Eden, but I wanna rewrite it (I first published it about 4 years ago and not only do I want to fix some things plot-wise to incorporate more of canon into it, but there’s a lot I’m not happy with that I want to try and fix)

I also have a sequel lined up for Shot in the Dark.

But if I had to pick one, definitely Pure Feeling. I want to be able to actually finish a multichaptered fic for once and by dammit I’m gonna do it.

8. What’s the oldest (longest since last update) fic you most want to continue (unfinished or no)?

That would be Shot in the Dark. There were a lot of things I wanted to do with that AU and while I don’t think I’ll get to most of it, I do at least want to finish the sequel.

9. Have you ever written for a fandom without watching/reading/playing the source material?

Nope. I don’t write for things I don’t have an interest in and typically if I haven’t consumed it, I’m not interested

10. Have you ever written for a fandom without reading other fanfic for it?

A couple, yeah. I wrote a fic for Jessica Jones (although, after I did I ended up reading a couple fics for it).

Also did a couple of fics in my early years of writing for some stuff that people probably know nothing about (but if you’re curious, Princess Ai and Astonishing Adventures of Fanboy and Goth Girl)

11. Have you ever written a fic for a concept you know someone else has done before? How did it impact your writing process or feelings after posting?

I feel like it’s hard not to? Most concepts in general have typically been done before by someone. We don’t create in a vacuum.

But if I do a concept I know I’ve seen before, I typically always try to make it my own somehow. Because since it’s been done before, others have most likely seen it, so I want to show them how mine is different. I like to push the boundaries, combine different concepts together, and really create a piece that makes it unique enough to set myself apart. 

I like using general concepts and deconstructing them before reconstructing them into something new that I like and want to share. And it’s always nice after I publish it and get feedback to see that people really enjoy the stuff I write.

12. Have you ever written a fic and decided never to publish it? Why?

Oh plenty for sure. More often than not, I started writing it and got stuck and then a) took so long I lost interest or b) took so long that I forgot where I was going with it

13. What’s the biggest change between your style when you started in fandom and today?

If we’re talking about style, I think that’s a bit harder to pin down depending on what I write. But I’ve noticed that with particular oneshots I’ve become more abstract in my writing so that’s cool

14. What’s the biggest change in your taste between when you started in fandom and today?

I used to read just about anything if it had my ship when I was younger, but as I grew older I became more and more picky. Some things can turn me off a fic completely. 

I also have really grown to dislike fics that are WAY to cliche and tropey. I love tropes as much as the next person, but I feel like some people just don’t do enough with it to really make it interesting. The more cliche your fic is without much else brought to it, the easier it is for me to forget it.

15. Have you ever purposefully written one fandom/fic idea over another because you knew it’d be more popular?

Nah. I don’t typically like writing things I’m not passionate about because it’s hard to hold my attention to finish it. If I write an idea, it’s because I wanted to, not because I figured it’d get me a lot of feedback.

16. Have you ever stopped writing a fic/for a fandom because it wasn’t receiving enough attention?

Not really. Like I said before, if I don’t write for it, it probably means I’m not awfully interested anymore

17. In your opinion, what’s your most overrated fic?

If we’re talking about any fics, probably one of the ones I wrote for Teen Titans in my earlier days.

But if we’re talking more recent, Talking Body. Idk. I just don’t think that fic is as interesting as I thought it was at the time but it blew the fuck up regardless

18. What’s your most underrated fic?

Hybrid. I’m mostly upset because it didn’t get as much attention as the prequel before it considering that garnered a lot of attention but...c’est la vie

19. If you had to pick one fic/scene/chapter of your work to describe your entire portfolio to a stranger, which would you pick?

Probably pillars. It’s probably one of the most interesting fics I’ve written in terms of formatting.

20. Have/Would you ever rewrite a fic? If yes, would you take the original down?

Like I mentioned before, I do want to rewrite Fall From Eden. And yes, if and when I eventually get to that, I would be replacing all the chapters currently up.

21. If someone starts kudosing and commenting your fics in a spree and has a few works of their own, would you go look through theirs?

Not typically. I appreciate the onslaught of feedback, trust me, but I prefer to parse through the fic lists of the ships of my choosing and read from there

22. Has there ever been anyone who’s made you freak out because they read your work and followed/favorited/reviewed?

Not that I can remember. I’m sure it’s happened, I just can’t remember it haha

23. What’s the nicest review you’ve ever gotten?

Oh jeez that’s a tough one I can’t remember them all.

This is one that’s stuck out though

“ You really captured what post-traumatic self-destructive behaviors feel like while staying so true to their dynamic as well as getting the characterization right to the T despite the fact that the show itself is obviously much less grim (not that it's not angsty, just far from this.) Beautifully written, the repetition and the parallels really put it all together. This piece hit home. I'll remember this one. Thank you for writing it. Thank you for sharing. “

-from as my World d[ivides]

24. What’s the meanest review you’ve ever gotten? Do you think the reviewer intended it?

I’ve gotten plenty of mean reviews but most of those are from my earlier days of writing. I can’t remember any particular ones so I also couldn’t tell you if the reviewer intended it or not

25. What constructive criticism, however well-meaning, always makes you feel bad when you see it in a review?

I wouldn’t say it makes me feel bad, but I know one review I’ve seen a couple of times is when people tell me that my writing gets too prose-y. The main reason it rubs me the wrong way is because while I’m sure they’re trying to be helpful, prose is part of my style less than the logistics and structure.

My descriptions can be a bit much sometimes I guess, but more often than not, it’s there for a reason. Whether it helps set the mood, gives insight to the characters’s thoughts/motivations/feelings that really set the story, or because I want to immerse the reader in the best way possible by painting a picture. 

So it’s just annoying when people tell me to tone it down because it’s too much for them. If you don’t like prose, then read something else. 

26. What aspect of your writing do you most enjoy to see praised?

My characterization. 9 times out of 10, that’s the thing I get most anxious about, so when people tell me I nail it it always makes my goddamn day

27. If you could only ever write crossovers or single-fandom fics ever again, which would you pick?

Single-fandom. Not a huge fan of crossover fics

28. if you could only ever write for a single crossover or a single fandom again, which would you pick?

Oof. That’s really tough because like I said, my interests change all the time. I typically jump from fandom to fandom and write for whatever I’m obsessed with at the time.

I guess if I had to pick though...RWBY probably. 

29. Does the division of your writing across fandoms line up with your reading? What’s the biggest discrepancy?

I’d say it’s about even for what I’m interested at the time. Biggest discrepancy though would probably be....either Miraculous Ladybug or Fairy Tail. 

I just don’t write much for those and read a lot so...

30. Do you continue to write for a fandom after you’ve moved on or do you focus solely on the new one?

Sometimes. Not too often. Because usually I’m so hyperfocused on the new shiny thing that most of my ideas end up being for that

31. Who’s the one character you’ve just never managed to get perfectly right?

I always worry that I do that for every character I write for haha.

I think my major concerns regarding that right now are Scorpia and Entrapta. For some reason I feel like they’re really difficult to write for.

32. Who’s the one character who shines without you even trying?

Yang probably. Maybe Adora

33. Is there any particular character whose scenes always wind up being longer/more frequent than you expected? Does the quality hold up?

I don’t think so?

34. Was there any fic that you wrote that really surprised you in the fandom reaction? Was it just by the numbers or did they take it an entirely different way?

I’d have to say as my World d[ivides] really surprised me. I really wasn’t sure how people would respond to that one given that it deals with a VERY sensitive subject and was positive I’d face a little bit of backlash. But honestly everyone actually really loved it and I got so much nice feedback from it.

35. Have you ever written a ship into a fic without meaning to?

Not usually

36. Have you ever sincerely written a ship you do not support into a fic?

Nope

37. Have you ever purposefully bashed a character/ship in a fic?

Not that I’m aware of

38. Have you ever purposefully written something you know your readers would find uncomfortable/would not enjoy? If yes, why?

I think that would probably be Sunflower. And if you’ve read that fic you know exactly what I mean.

If you haven’t read it, I won’t include spoilers, but I did explain myself at the end of it

39. Do you consider yourself to have a readership?

I think I have a few loyal readers yeah (and I love all of them)

40. Do you feel like you put out enough content?

HA!

41. If you cross-post your fics on multiple sites, do you have a favorite? Are there certain fics you would only post on certain site?

I used to crosspost when I first started on AO3 but after awhile I gave up bc I didn’t like ffnet’s set-up nearly as much. Sometimes I’ll post fics here on tumblr but I fucking HATE the formatting so...not much

42. How many views has your most popular fic gotten?

6,156 views (that would be Shot in the Dark)

43. Your least popular?

173 views - Scared to Breathe

44. Do you follow/favorite/kudos/comment/review more stories than you have received?

That’s really hard to say. I read a lot but I do have a few really popular stories so...

45. If you had to call yourself an author of a single genre (besides fanfic) what label would you give yourself?

I think my specialty is angst. You can ask most of my friends. 

46. Do you consider yourself a diverse author?

I try to be. But I do think I lean towards certain areas 

47. If someone you know in real life who isn’t involved in fandoms asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first?

Errrr...probably not? I tell people that I write fics, but I always get nervous when it comes to the thought of them actually reading them. It feels too personal somehow. Like, that’s a part of me I don’t usually let people see.

The only person who has is my boyfriend. And even then I get nervous when he does it

48. Does anyone you know from outside of fandom know you write fanfic? Are they involved in the same fandom too?

Yeah like I said, I’ve told some people. And they area typically interested in the original content, but I don’t know how involved they are in fanfiction or fandom itself

49. Has anyone in your life ever read your fanfic just because you wrote it?

My boyfriend

50. Has writing fanfic had a significant impact on your life? Would you say it’s entirely positive?

I would like to say it has. I’ve been writing for about 10 years now and it’s really opened up a lot of doors for me. I’ve met some really great people through fic and fandom. I’ve also grown as a writer after being at it for so long which has, strangely enough, helped me regarding essays and papers for school. 

Writing is kind of just what I do now. It’s one of my only contributions to fandom, so it’s nice to know I can take part somehow in generating content.

[everlarkficexchange]

Zero Hour

[Promt 88]:I love soulmates fics ! Anything with Everlark being soulmates and finding each other -finally :) thank you ! - anonymous

Written By: Mega-AuLover

A/N: this monstrosity you can thank @xerxia31 for. There were several Soulmate Prompts and the one I wanted was taken by another author, whom I personally stalk, but she was talking about a wedding and I thought a wedding no…soulless mindless Zombies..I think I made tea come out of Xerxia’s nose :) but seriously thank you for saving the life of this story. To my beta who I have a serious writers crush on @alliswell21 you and I both know how much awe I am in over your writing skillzzz. 

Rated: T  

PART ONE - ZERO HOUR:

They were known as the living dead. Zombies  created by the Capitol who didn’t find their true love. Katniss Everdeen watched one of them from her window, walking slowly, a mask of indifference on its colorless face. He was followed by Darius, one of the nicer Peacekeepers.

She glanced down at her arm, the cause of such a creature, was the tracker embedded under the tattoo they had to get printed on their arm. It was a control measure put in by the Capitol after the war.

At the age of twelve, all children received a tattoo with their initials and age.  It was the first step to show the ever presence and dominance of the Capitol. At 18, they were brought to the school yard to be outfitted with their trackers.

The tracker remained silent until they met their soulmate.  When you met your soulmate, the tracker would glow showing their initials for exactly  8 hours, in which you had to connect with your mate and register with the local magistrate.

The magistrate  were the only ones with the authority  to remove the tracker.

If you missed the 8 hour window, the kill switch would activate. An electrical discharge was sent from the tracker directly to your brain, a sort of modern day lobotomy.

Everyone strived to find their life partner, afraid of becoming a poor soulless creature, just as her sister, Primrose, called them.

Primrose was right, the mateless walked the earth with no purpose other than to do the dangerous jobs the Capitol assigned them. They blew up the caverns in the mines, tested new machinery, the lucky few became slaves to a Capitolite or wealthy member of the society. They were kept far away from the regular folk and guarded by Peacekeepers.

“Hey Catnip,” Gale knocked on the window pane bringing her out of her thoughts.

Katniss smiled at her friend, hunting partner , and soon to be in-law. This morning both families were overjoyed about the nuptials She waved him inside. “Hey Gale.”

Gale was twenty six, tall and very good looking. There were rumors about his prowess in the bedroom, though she didn’t care much about the stories.

He entered the room, and filled it. He was a little over six feet tall, one of the tallest men in The Seam. “So Primrose finally got you to wear a dress.”

Katniss grimaced,”It’s like putting lipstick on a pig, Gale.”

Gale chuckled. “You should see my dad, he didn’t want to wear a suit, but you know my mom.”

Hazelle Hawthorne was a force to be reckoned with.

“Vick wanted me to give this to Prim.” Gale extended the package he held in his hand.

“Thanks,” she took the package from him. “I’m sure whatever Vick cooked up, Prim is going to love it.”

Everyone thought Katniss was going to be Gale’s soulmate, but it was never meant to be. Katniss was thankful that the odds were in her favor.

“I can’t believe my baby brother is getting hitched before me.”

When Vick turned eighteen the previous day, no one was surprised  his tracker showed Prim’s initials. The entire Hawthorne clan came to the Everdeen home, to confirm Vick’s initials showed  on Prim’s arm. Both families ran to the Seam magistrate to have the trackers deactivated and removed. Katniss had been so happy to see the darn devices removed from Prim and Vick’s arms.

Because they were from the Seam, they needed to fill out the wedding certificate at the Justice Building on the other side of the in the Merchant quarter.

“Me either. It’s insane that Prim’s all grown up.”

Gale laughed, “Yeah , Rory and I have been ribbing on Vick all day with the older woman bit. It’s just funny that even though Prim’s like two years older than him, she still manages to look younger.”

“You Hawthorne men look old, or have you forgotten that when we met in the woods, you were 14 but looked like you were 18. I mean right now you look like you can be someone’s grandfather. Now that we’re talking about it, you’ve looked like a grandpa since the day you turned 16.”

“Hardy, har, har,” Gale snickered, pointing to his tracker, it read 26. Gale had worn his tracker for the past 14 years.  A constant reminder that the Capitol owned him.

“Well you can’t help it old man,” Katniss joked back.  

“Old man? you’re  practically an old lady yourself. How old are you? 24? that’s ancient by Seam standard’s.”

Gale was right, no one in the Seam waited this long. There was only two occasions where a person never found their soulmate.

“Maybe you and I are the new Goat Man and Ripper.”

“Well I do know my way around a distillery, and you do have a Goat.”

“Lady does not qualify as a goat, she’s more of a pet.”

“Remember when you bought Lady for Prim?”

“You mean with the money we got from the stag I got with my arrow, that you claimed you shot?” Katniss crossed her arms over her chest.

“I still say my arrow was the one that got him.”

“Gale you and I both know you’re no marksmith. You can’t shoot down a full grown bear standing 20 yards away.”

“Man those were great good old days.” Gale wistfully uttered, his days were now spent in the mines.

So much had changed since she was a child. She looked behind her to see the empty rocking chair. It reminded her of harder times. 

According to many, becoming soulless was the worst fate someone in Panem could have. But Katniss had seen a different kid of desperation.

She had seen what happened to soulmate when their love was taken away. Her mother had found her soulmate in a man from District 12’s Seam side. Fate brought them together and for a long time they were happy, until he was taken away by illness.

“How is your dad feeling?”

“Good, if he could stay away from Haymitch and Ripper’s liquor. My maw says he drives her insane, he says she drives him to drink.”

“Your mom then says drive, what drive, we don’t even have a car.” They said together. It was an old joke between them.

Gale’s father had survived the great illness thanks to her mother. The Hawthorne’s were lucky. Many were not.

Katniss was eleven when the great epidemic filtered through District 12 and beyond. It affected the Seam the greatest especially those poor souls loveless creatures. When her father became infected, her mother, a healer, tried everything she knew to help save him but her father was too far gone.  He died shortly after the diagnosis.

Her mother never fully recovered.

“Listen I’ve got to go. I’ll see you in less than twenty minutes. Who knew someday you’d be my sister.”

Katniss shook her head, “I guess somethings are meant to be Gale.”

She closed the door and from her vantage point she watched him flirt with Mrs. Andrews. She was glad they were not a match, she and Gale were too alike. They were more like siblings then lovers.

Her mind swirled with images from the past. The constant hunger, the near death, the death of her father, and the loss of the care of her mother.

It became very clear no one cared about dying children, or the sick people of The Seam. The Capitol was more concerned with its own plans. They tightened security around the wall that was erected after the great rebellion was neutralized. The wall cut through the land separating the privileged and the poor.  The vendors lived in the Merchant Quarters and the workers and the poor lived in the ghettos.

In District 12 they called it the Seam. In District 2 Darius a Peacekeeper said the ghetto was known as the Dungeon.

“Katniss.”

Hearing her sisters words brought Katniss out of her thoughts. She turned around to see Prim dressed in white. “You look beautiful.”

“Never as pretty as you.”

“Oh here, Vick sent this to you.”

Prim blushed as she reached for the box. She opened it and gasped. “Bread! real bread for toasting!”

“Bread?” Katniss wondered where Vick had gotten it. There wasn’t a bakery in the Seam, it wasn’t allowed. But once a month. The Baker sold his goods outside of the gate door, but most of the time the bread was stale. Gale would trade with him, when they got a good haul. The last time she’d tasted fresh bread was when that boy had given her bread./

“It’s still warm Katniss,” Prim touched he bread reverently.

“Can I smell it, “ Katniss asked recalling smelling the scent of freshly baked bread. The smell of fresh crust and flaky interior had never left her.  

“Sure, do you remember the last time we had fresh bread Katniss. It was a miracle. We were so hungry.”

Katniss recalled how empty their stomachs were on that hollow day.

Her last resort was to sneak into the Merchant side and rummage in trash cans for food. She found nothing and as she was giving up, a boy appeared by the window. He nodded at her then a few moments later a commotion  from within the walls of the house.

She remembered hearing the painful cry of a child, before the door of the back yard opened. It had been the blond boy who’d seen her through the window. He had a welt on his face and his big blue eyes held unshed tears. But his chin didn’t tremble as he ran out and gave her two loaves of burnt bread.

Katniss had never been able to forget that boy. She’d never seen him again. However, no matter what the Capitol did to divide them,  in her heart she could never forget that boy.

That single act of kindness gave her the strength to carry on. To remember her father’s generosity, his dexterity, and his abilities to hunt. Katniss looked down at her wrist, the glaring zeros poised to begin at any moment.

“It was a miracle, Prim. And today we have another one. Vick and the rest of the Hawthorne’s will be here at any moment.  Why don’t you go get mother?”

“Don’t worry, Katniss, someday you’ll find your soulmate.”

Katniss hid her grimace. “Don’t worry about me little duck, today you’re going to sign the official paperwork, precisely at 1:00 in the afternoon and we’ll have a toasting afterwards.”

“I know! I’m so happy!” Her sister couldn’t contain her joy. She was as bright and as delicate as the yellow flowers she was named after.

“Katniss don’t forget your pass.”

“Don't’ worry. I will not forget.” Katniss put on the long sleeve jacket that went with the dress. Katniss was shorter than her mother so the sleeves reached the tip of her fingers, she didn’t mind, she was always cold. She was glad it had pockets.

PART TWO - RACE BEGINS:

Prim turned to their mother, “Isn’t it a great day for a wedding mom?”

Their mom slowly nodded. “Yes dear.”

It really was a breathtaking day, there wasn’t a rain cloud in the sky. It was warm, with a pleasant breeze. It was a the perfect day for a wedding.

“It’s really happening,” Prim squealed when she saw Vick arriving.  

Tears gathered in her eyes, as she watched her sister take in Vick in his suit. He was handsome, as handsome as the rest of the Hawthornes. He was tall like his brother Gale, but his eyes were kinder. His smile softer, and unlike Gale who sported a beard and mustache, Vick always had a five o’clock shadow.

“You look amazing,” Vick softly said taking Primrose’s hands in his. 

“Thank you for the bread.” She offered.

“Every bride should have fresh bread on her wedding day.”

“Okay, everyone time to get moving,” Hazelle, Gale’s mom interrupted the tender moment between Prim and Vick.

“Yeah some of us are hungry,” Rory shouted.

“When aren’t you hungry?” Gale muttered.

Katniss chuckled. She wondered how long Gale and Rory would go before one tried to hurt the other.

As they made their way through the Seam, many stepped outside to softly hum the bride’s song.

This was a special time in a young person’s life when the future seemed limitless.

Katniss was the curmudgeon trailing in the back with the full knowledge that life was filled with more hurt than good.

As they approached the wall, the streets became busier since it was the day the merchants sold their wares to the inhabitants of the Seam.  Everywhere Katniss looked there were men, and she was filled with dread and panic as she saw two young people looking at their trackers as they time slowly ticked down.

The tracker would automatically start when she was near her mate. She took deep even breaths as she followed the wedding party.

When they arrived at the wall,  the sun in the sky indicated it was noon. Katniss heard Rue’s song being of the giant clock-tower as it struck twelve. She’d never seen it but she heard it all of her life.  On a cold winter’s day the bell could be hear in the Seam, it chimed on the hour.

They stood long in the long line waiting patiently to go up into the small wall border crossing outpost. They moved slowly until they reached where the gate was between the Merchant and the Seam. Katniss kept didn’t really look around but the smell of bread caught her attention.   

The baker was at the wall, with a tall man with curly blond hair. They looked alike, Katniss assumed he was the baker’s son. He reminded her of the young boy who had given her the bread.  When he looked in her direction, Katniss swiftly looked the other way.

“Peeta, please give the lady her bread,” his father admonished.

Katniss glanced at him once more when his attention was turned to the woman in front of him. He was broad shouldered, his arms were muscular, and his hands were large but they were careful enough to gently hand the woman her bread. His actions caused her to smile.

“Next,” the Peacekeeper called out.

“Come on Katniss,” Posey, Gale’s baby sister called.

Katniss joined the group as they were allowed in the building. Prim was ahead of them with Vick.  

Her sister  had her hand linked with Vick, as they spoke with the Peacekeeper. “State the nature of your visit.”

“We are getting married,” Vick’s deep voice boomed. “Our trackers were removed yesterday by the Seam Magistrate.”

The Peacekeeper checked their passes. “Congratulations on your nuptials, may the odds be  in your favor.”

“Thank you,” Prim gushed.

One by one they went through the checkpoints. They were all in a festive mood as they entered past the checkpoints and headed toward the Justice Building. Katniss paused at the looming clocktower, it’s shadow cast the town square in darkness.  When they arrived they discovered their appointment was set back a hour.

The small party waited in the lobby of the building waiting to be called to sign the paperwork.  They had all of the time in the world.

“Only fifteen more minutes before we’re married,” Vick said quietly for Prim to hear, but Katniss overheard it.

Her sister gazed up at Vick and her pale blue eyes shined with happiness. Katniss swallowed as she recalled the harshness she had to experience. Their mother Lillian stood just feet away, a pale shadow of the woman she’d been.  

Katniss shuddered the at the prospect of becoming someone like her mother. It was why she’d  decided to not interact with men. She didn’t want to find her soul mate. Her mother Lillian, had slowly come back from her depression,but there were days she returned  to the rocking chair.

In the beginning, her mother spent months in her rocking chair simply existing, without words, vacantly staring out into the void. Katniss barely got her to eat or bathe. At age eleven, Katniss had become an adult, taking on the responsibilities that were beyond her years. She tried, but with the illness no one opened their doors to orphaned children.

“Everdeen and Hawthorne,” a young woman called out with a clipboard.

“Yes?” Prim stood up.

“Thank you for your patience. As a reward, you’ve been selected to have a wedding ceremony by the Head Magistrate.”

Only a few received this honor. It was fitting that it should be Prim and Vick. “Thank you,” Prim whispered.

“This way, please.”

Everyone followed the woman into the Head Magistrate’s office.

The head magistrate was a woman with mile high pink hair and an outfit that had white doves all over it.

“Welcome, welcome.” The woman stood and she had the strangest shoes Katniss had ever seen. “I am Head Magistrate Effie Trinket.”

“A pleasure ma’am,” Vick nodded.

“Oh my, you are a tall one,” Effie said as she looked up at Vick. Her eyes scanned all four Hawthorne men. “You certain are a handsome lot.”

Gale grinned, and Katniss rolled her eyes.

“Are we ready for the ceremony?”

Prim eagerly nodded.

“Good you stand here my dear,” Effie instructed Prim and then turned her attention to Vick, “ and your beloved over here.”

All the attention was on Primrose and Vick as they solemnly stood before their families and the Head Magistrate.

“Dearly beloved we’ve come together to witness  this woman, Primrose Everdeen join this man, Vick Hawthorne, in the sacred bond of marriage.” Addressing the groom and bride, she asked, “Are you ready to take the vows to uphold the laws of marriage as decreed in the statues of Panem?”

“We do,” Prim and Vic said united.

“Do you promise to keep the other in health and in sickness. To stand by the other in good times and harsh times?”

Katniss watched Gale’s parents exchange loving looks. Her mother turned pale. Katniss lowered her head and glanced down at her shoes, tucking her hands in her jacket’s pocket.

“We do,” Prim and Vick replied.

“The by the power vested in me, by our beloved President, Corilanius Snow, and the Country of Panem, I now pronounce you, husband and wife.” Effie Trinket joyfully exclaimed, “You may kiss the bride.!

Katniss looked away as Prim and Vick kissed.

“Now if you could please sign the certificate.”

Katniss watched as her sister wrote Primrose Everdeen for the last time. It was a bittersweet moment. She was losing her sister to someone else. Albeit it was to Vick, and he was moving in with them, but things were changing.

Maybe she should start thinking of it as gaining a brother, instead of losing his baby sister.

“Who are the two witnesses?” Effie Trinket asked.

Katniss stepped forward with Gale.

Gale signed first and handed the pen to her. Katniss took the pen, and pushed down her sleeves. Smiling she glanced up at her friends and family as she poised to sign her name. But everyone looked shocked and ashen. Katniss frowned.

Her first instinct was to search for Prim to make sure she was alright. Prim’s eyes were wide, her face pale.  Her sister had clamped her hand over her mouth and was pointing to her arm. Katniss glanced down at herself, that’s when she noticed the timer on the tracker had begun it’s count down.

Everything in the room became still as it suddenly dawned on Katniss, her race had begun.

[creideamhgradochas]

Thanks to the lovely @youngmoneymilla for taking the time to answer these! Get to know more about lovely Eliza, go give her a follow and then show her some love!

These questions are from this list. You should check it out, there’s 50 questions all together and they’d be great to ask your favorite fic writer!

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fan-fiction?

13

2) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

I did love writing OC’s because I have a lot of fun with physical description. However, that was when I wasn’t aware of Reader Inserts since I just recently came back into the fanfic world. Reader Inserts are great because I have to work that much harder on giving them a backstory/personality and not focus at all on physical description. Plus, everyone gets to read the work and hopefully find themselves in it. The only thing I hate is being unable to use a name. I can’t write “Y/N” bc it bugs me haha.

3) What is your favorite genre to write for?

Ummm Angst probably? I’m a huge horror fan so, I’m trying to incorporate that into more work.

4) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

“It Would Have Made it True” just because I didn’t really connect with it that much and the ending was rushed.

5) When is your preferred time to write? 

11 am to 10 pm haha. I’m an asshole and write a lot during my job.

6) Where do you take your inspiration from? 

I have about a million fics bookmarked from over the years, literally fics from when I was in high school to now. They’re so gorgeously written and they inspire me to write. I pretty much only read non-fiction outside of fanfic so, that doesn’t really work.

7) What’s your favorite scene that you’ve written?

Bathtub/Bedroom scene in the second part of “Bungalows and Baths”

8) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?

Yep. In one fic, I included a descriptive characteristic for the reader that implied she was white. It hadn’t even occurred to me but, I immediately fixed it when someone pointed it out.

9) Who is your favorite character to write for? Why? 

Tossup between Bucky and Steve. Bucky has the very obvious trauma and grief that’s interesting to write about but, Steve has a lot of buried darkness that’s subtle and extremely intriguing.

10) Who is your least favorite character to write for? Why?

Maybe Bruce? I don’t care that much for his character (despite the fact I love Hulk)

11) How do you come up with the titles for your stories? 

A lot of the time, it’s a line that’s said throughout the narrative. However, I have a word doc filled with random quotes I like and I usually throw something together. I always think up the title at the end and it’s always an afterthought. Titles blow.

12) What do you think is the best idea you’ve had for a story so far?

I am currently writing a Bucky x Reader fic (TRYING TO AT LEAST) that is going to take the team to New Orleans. It’s going to involve vampires since I wrote a novella about vampires back in high school and want to re-explore that mythology. However, there is going to be a lot of twists and it won’t be an AU, it’s just introducing the possibility of vampires in the MC universe. The reader and Bucky will both be struggling with the idea of themselves as monsters and trying to help themselves through that. It’s going to be a lot of voodoo and magic and angsty “will they, won’t they”. I’m going off on a tangent now but, that’s the gist. I have not written an actual series in a long time so, this would be my first one.

13) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

There are many half-filled one- page word docs on my desktop that are rotting away as we speak. I just get bored or think of something else.

14) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

I’d love to do more fics with the same reader from Bungalows and Baths.

15) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?

Lol I’m actually annoyed with how I ended 6 Times right now. Not sure why.

16) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

Omg I admire so many but, here are a few.

@bitsandbobsandstuff – obviously for her “Safe with Me” piece which is fantastic, emotional and well-paced. Pacing/keeping the reader on their toes is the hardest thing for me in a series and so, I really admire her ability to do that. I also LOVED her “A Million Invisible Threads” piece because it’s such a gorgeous character study on the Winter Soldier

@a-splash-of-stucky  – She’s the Queen of Angst duh and a GORGEOUS writer. I love her stuff. A Messed Up Place left me weak.

@imhereforbvcky – Her “Mirror for the Sun” fic inspired me to start writing from Bucky’s POV actually. She’s just a beautiful writer.

@tilltheendwilliwrite – I love everything she writes. I love all the mythology she brings to her fics while still staying within the Avengers universe. Her smut is on another level, too. I find myself rereading her stuff again and again.

17) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?

Here and there. There are definitely moments in a fic where I think why did I keep that. It’s usually because I ended it too quickly or just wanted it over.

18) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence? 

I love music when I write fics. It’s all movie scores. I have a spotify playlist for it.

19) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?

I’ve cried (ish) when writing anything that has to do with alcohol/substance abuse. I’ve been in and out of AA for the past two years and have finally started recovery again. I also have depression so, writing about that can leave me raw. Writing truly always helps though.

20) Which part of your fics have been the hardest to write?

SMUT. Jesus Christ. I struggle so hard with making smut sound hot, as well as lyrical so, it can fit with the narrative. I don’t want to reuse anything I’ve used in other fics before or repeat words but, it’s SO hard (pardon the pun). I always forget what position they’re in and where the body parts need to go. It’s legitimately why I have yet to write a Stucky x Reader fic. I can’t introduce another person into my difficult SMUT journey.

21) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow? 

I usually have a general idea and I’ll have a very vague outline going. I just write everything out like word vomit and go back and edit.

22) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fan-fiction? 

That some of the best stories I’ve read aren’t necessarily the ones with the most likes or comments. I stumble upon stuff and wonder “HOW DOES THIS NOT HAVE 2K LIKES”.

23) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

That’s tough. Maybe the stuff I wrote in the beginning where I didn’t have many followers. I loved the concept of “You Don’t Mean for it to Happen” but, sometimes I want to rewrite the whole thing. I put a lot of myself into “I Think of You All the Time” but, I feel like that got some good traction. IDK.  Bungalows and Baths got a crazy amount of love. Did not expect that but, v grateful.

24) In contrast to 23 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at? 

Nope. I appreciate any love haha.

25) Are any of your characters based on real people?

Well, I think it goes without saying that every reader character has a little bit of the author in there. I think I pull from some of my friends but, not really.

26) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten? 

Someone once said that their soul was marked by “Bungalows and Baths” which was amazing haha.

27) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?

I haven’t really gotten criticism other than that time I screwed up on including a feature for a white reader. I felt terrible about that.

28) Do you share your story ideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest?

Not really. I don’t have people to share them with haha.

29) Do people know you write fan-fiction?

My best friend knows but, she doesn’t read fanfic. Shockingly, my mom and sister know but, I told them that they could never read them. I just share reviews with them. My mom likes to know that I’m staying creative.

30) What’s you favorite minor character you’ve written? 

Oh jeez idk if I have one. Natasha isn’t considered a minor character but, she usually plays a side character in my stories and she’s fun to write for.

31) What spurs you on during the writing process?

Once I get started, I’m usually good at keeping it going. Music helps.

32) What’s your favorite trope to write?

Probably slow burn romance or one of the lovers is injured/captured. I also am a huge sucker for love triangles because I’m greedy AF.

33) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?

Lawl this might not have been the first one but, I read a Lizzie Mcguire SMUT piece when I was maybe in 6th grade and was severely chilled to the bone. I was trash even at 12.

34) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Angst. I always write better when I’m emotionally distraught and tortured. Although as I get older, I realize this isn’t fabulous for my own mental health.

[smile-smile-ichthys]

Hosts of Japan - Chapter One

Featuring @whatdoyouexpectthistime @smutmylifeup and @hifftn

Hosts of Japan is a multi-chapter fic about a young woman, H, who runs a business of hiring out voltage men to travelling ladies to show them around Tokyo. But when she gets a phonecall with a strange request, will she finally let go of her past and learn to love someone who deserves it?

Inspired by these multi-chapter fics - MJS and High Voltage

“For three days? Yep, no that’s not too short, we do any length of time no problem” I said to a new potential client over the phone “Yeah of course, I’m sending over the terms and conditions for you to sign now via the email you gave me”

Typical day in the office really, me trying to talk to a client and explaining everything to them, all the while Mieke pulling stupid faces in the office opposite mine. Why did I rent an office floor with glass doors? Oh yeah, thought it had a nicer, more welcome feel to it all. Bad move.

“Yeah just read over them please, there’s not much to read unlike some companies” Mieke pulled another stupid face “and just sign it and send it back then we’ll pair you with a host” and another “sure sure, talk soon, thank you, bye!” I hanged up and she instantly stopped.

I stood and she turned back to her computer, but that didn’t stop me from going over to her little office.

I loved working here, it was my business after all, but I knew I had hired the best team when I actually enjoyed coming in to work every day. ‘Hosts of Japan’ was my idea, my business, my baby which had blossomed in the past couple of years. Each month was getting booked up within days of releasing it, it was getting so busy we were beginning to debate whether we needed a couple extra hosts. Who knew women coming to visit japan and wanting a handsome Japanese tour guide would be so popular? After all, who knew Japan better than the locals? The business was growing beautifully and with the next month of December being released in the next few days, I knew it was time to find new hosts.

“Mieke, you’re gonna have to stop doing that whenever I’m on the phone” I scolded her.

“Oh, but it’s so funny to try and make you laugh on the phone” Mieke laughed, spinning on her chair to face me.

“It’s really not” I argued.

“You do it when I talk to the guys! Remember last time I was on the phone with Nomura? You had me choke on my coffee and he genuinely almost came round to check I was ok! I was the one checking on him!” she laughed, making me reminisce. Ah good times.

Mieke was an awesome, kick butt, friend and colleague I had hired. She was mainly in charge of looking after the health and wellbeing of the hosts. With her no mess attitude, she made sure the guys stuck to the 11pm curfew when working with clients. Only if it had been agreed upon prior to the clients’ holiday would they be allowed to stay out with them past that time. It kept them safe, and gave them time to go home and get some sleep. In order to ensure they were going home and looking after themselves, I had to have someone who was willing to tell someone off, especially those who could charm their ways out of it. Mieke knew how to do that, and my God she could do it well. God only knows the amount of times Nomura has asked to stay past the 11pm curfew because his client was cute…

We knew things would happen from time to time. Ladies with attractive men who could flirt and charm their way out of anything, things were bound to happen. Yeah, we had rules about that but only loose ones. If they weren’t scheduled in and bound by contract, what happened in hotels, parks, beaches, whatever, we didn’t mind. Most of the time, the guys did as Mieke asked and behaved, I think there was only one instance when we first started when a host broke the contract. He didn’t stay, thankfully. Mieke kept them in line, that’s all I asked for.

“Ok, ok, that is true, how are the guys anyway?” I asked.

“Yeah, they’re good, they’ve sent their availability for December, and to be honest, we’ve got a good amount of time with them, but demands getting pretty bad now” Mieke expressed her worry.

“I know, I asked Miho if she’s managed to find some suitable guys to help ease the strain” I explained “think Jazz is coming in today to go through them with me, I think we should try two more guys for December and January before thinking about getting more”

“At least we’re six months in advance, so it’s shouldn’t be too hard” Mieke smiled.

“Nah, shouldn’t be” I smiled back.

“Shouldn’t be what?” Jazz asked as she came in to Mieke’s office.

“Too hard to find some guys” I said, perching on Mieke’s desk happily “Who have you got for me?”

Jazz chuckled, handing me a couple of folders. I opened them to find two extremely attractive guys, and yet they seemed a little different to the other men we had already hired. I wasn’t sure what, but they both seemed to…glow slightly. Some strange aura.

“Strange aura right?” Jazz said.

“Yeah, how did you…” I asked.

“I felt the same, even on the phone to them, they both seemed pretty confident in themselves, but I don’t know, just felt strange is all” she explained.

“In a bad way?” Mieke asked, taking one of the folders from me.

“Not especially, didn’t feel anything bad about them” Jazz said.

I read the file left with me, while Mieke read the other. ‘Miyabi’, aged 26, short ash blonde hair, loves to mingle with everyone, even shyer people, super confident, freely available.

“Hmm, this one looks good for those who are unsure about venturing out a bit, but also those who really want to go out and do new things, probably not good for those in between” I said.

“That’s what I was thinking” Jazz said.

“Hmm I’m not sure how to pronounce this guy’s name…” Mieke said “But he’s cute and seems to fit the in between section perfectly, someone respectable and understanding, he seems approachable too”

“I think he said Huedhaut, but he did also say Hue was fine” Jazz said “So, what do you think? Should I bring them in to interview properly?”

“Got the green light from me, two different guys to cover every kind of traveller” I grinned.

Jazz and Miho were perfect for the job. They mainly helped with how to run the business, advertising, legalities and all that, but they definitely knew who to hire and who not to go near. Also, them both having partners in the law and business department helped as well.

Miho was engaged to a fine gentleman Goto in the police force, high ranking, naturally. Only the best for her.  Jazz was with a business, and bar, man named Kunihiko. He was dashing and charming, again, only the best for her too. Every time we all went out together, even Mieke and her boyfriend, Ryosuke, I could certainly tell they truly loved their ladies.

That’s when my phone rang. It was him.

“H, if you answer that and it’s him, I’m gonna…” Jazz began but I had already picked the phone up.

“Shhh, hi, how are you?” I asked.

“I’m good, thank you kindly H, are you free tonight? I wish to ask you something?” Genzo asked, making my heart race.

Genzo, my close friend ever since I move to Japan all those years ago. He was with me through thick and thin, he even gave me the last of the money to get this business going. And yet, he had never felt the same way about me as I felt about him.

“Tonight?” I glanced at the girls, both of them annoyingly rolling their eyes at me. They didn’t like Genzo, both told me he’s a creep and I should move on, but…I couldn’t. “Yeah, I’m free tonight”

“Great usual place, see you at 7” he hanged up.

“H, don’t do this to yourself, look, Ryo knows someone who would be way better than him, why don’t we double date?” Mieke suggested.

“Kuni even knows a few single guys too” Jazz pitched in “don’t put yourself through this hope again that’s he’s going to ask you out”

“I’m not, I know he usually just asks about business plans each month, I mean December is due soon so, makes sense” I noticed them glaring “come on, I’m fine, honestly”

My office phone began to ring and I ran off, thankful for the disruption.

“I just hope someone snaps her out of it one day” Jazz said.

I plonked myself down in my chair once again and happily answered the phone.

“Hello, H from Hosts of Japan speaking, how can I help?” I smiled.

I was expecting a female voice, so I must have been quite shocked to hear a male since Mieke and Jazz were by my side instantly.

“Good afternoon miss H, my name is Aleck, I was wondering if I could speak with you about hiring one of your hosts for an important visit next month” the male voice explained.

“Oh, right, well erm, problem is…”

“I understand you are fully booked up, miss H, I have seen your website availability, however this may seem a silly request, if I may” he ever so polite, and spoke so softly, he even soundly slightly American.

“Ask away sir, no request here is ever silly” I grinned, but it sunk when he asked.

I must have been silent for quite a while as Aleck kept asking if I was alright.

“I…I’m fine, I do believe though, I will need some time to think and talk over with my colleagues about this request, is there a number I can call you on?” I took a number and hung up the phone.

“What? What was it?” Mieke asked.

“I think we need Miho here too…I’ve just been asked to host a two week holiday for the Prince of Liberty…”

[wingsporkhalo]

A Collaborative Spork of “Why?”: a Lord of the Rings Fanfic-- Chapter 4

Time to “enjoy” chapter 4 of this mess with @icykalismsts!

Special thanks to Liz Lemon and Castiel for helping me as snarky as possible.

Chapter 4: Not Quite Home Sweet Home

Hey, it's Nyanko-chan again. I'm writing this next half chapter for my friends.

(Damn the influence you have on me!) However, I'm considering pulling down

this fic.

W: You can’t pull it down any further than it has already sunk.

I put this fic for others to enjoy, and if they don't, well obviously I could

just give the rest of the fic to Crystal-chan now instead of putting her in suspense.

::sigh:: There goes all the fun.

W: That’s my line, buster.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A little girl from the group walked up to Crystal.

~ Onee-chan (sister), what are we going to do with him? ~

W: For once, author is right about the translation, but it actually means more specifically “Big sister/older sister.”

Sarcastically, she said, "Well jeez, why don't you tell me? YOU'RE the

one caught him!" The girl blushed.

~ Hai, hai. (can mean anything between yes, agreeing, or agreeing in an

offhand way) ~ What do yall think? ~

K: That these “translations” are incredibly intrusive.

W: That “y’all” doesn’t seem like very sophisticated language. And oops, if the author’s translations are intrusive, mine are probably even more so. Sorry, guys.

Several murmurs were heard, saying things

like, "Why not do to him what he did to Crystal-sama?" and such. Comments like

these made Legolas a bit nervous.

Crystal hushed them up with a careless wave of her hand.

W: It was careless because she had knocked over a nearby flower vase.

"No matter what

we do with him, no one, even an ordinary elf deserves this kind of treatment. We'll

take him to the camp, and THEN decide what to do with him."

K: Is it bad that I immediately thought of a prison camp? W: Well, I thought of a concentration camp, so really yours was better than mine.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Aragorn hurried and woke the others as soon as he got up. As they packed,

they all thought about what could have been bothering Legolas so much about this

stranger that he took off after her without telling anyone.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When they arrived at the elves camp

W: --which is where young elves undergo training to one day assist Santa in his workshop--

around 10:00 a.m., they closed the

gates and untied him.

K: It is an Elf prison camp! W: Oh god, no!

Crystal gave a mock bow. "Welcome, Prince , to our humble lodgings." As

Legolas looked around, he thought, "I'll be damned if this was humble! This place

puts shame to the city of Mirkwood!" (Was that correct?)

K: No, that’s rude. He should be grateful that he’s in a prison camp, duh.

W: Man, Mirkwood’s really changed, I guess.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As they were walking down a corridor to Legolas' room, a little thing ran

down the hallway, screaming, ~ Oneeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-chan! You're back! ~

K: Oh. Good thing I didn’t need those eardrums.

Crystal turned around a millisecond too late as the thing, which happened to be an

Elf,

W:

tackled Crystal in a bear hug. They both landed with a big thump on the floor.

~ Iiiiiiiiita!!!

W: She means “itai,” which pretty much is the Japanese equivalent to “Ouch!”

Suppi-chan, what did I tell you about doing that to me while

I'm walking in the MARBLE FILLED rooms?! ~ she mock-scolded.

K: That’s where people’s marbles go when they lose them.

~ The girl

blushed. ~ Gomenasi.

K: Is this what you say when you’re apologizing to a Nazi?

W: Oof. That joke makes me feel guilty after my mentioning the concentration camps. I have to go lay down and think about happy things for a bit. (Also, she means gomen nasai.)

I wasn't thinking when I did. Demo (but), I was so happy

you're safe from your travels! ~

Legolas stared at the girl. * She must be no older then 25 to be that small! *

W: ??? Do girls have a growth spurt after age 25 or something? If so, I better prepare myself, since I’m 25 now, and in fact will be 26 in a few months.

(Okay, I was thinking, "I want Crystal to have a little sister, but I want her to be

more skilled than the average person."

W: “Okay, I want my Sue to have a five-year-old companion, but she has to be better than all the other five-year-olds.”

So I decided that in this fic, and elf may

choose how old he/she likes,

W:

as long as they have already lived that age in human

years.)

W: I have read so many stupid things. But this is still one of the stupidest.

Crystal began get annoyed when he didn't answer her. ' Hello?! Are you coming? '

Than she added slyly. ' Or does the almighty Prince know his way around everywhere,

even when he's never been here before? '

Legolas snapped out of it. When he realized the two were staring at him

oddly, he blushed, and apologized.

Crystal took him to a room, and showed him around it. There was a queen bed,

a view that over looked a beautiful lake, and a nice bathroom with towels, soap, etc.

W: Thanks for that totally not-lazy description.

"You're probably tired, so I'll leave. Feel free to go anywhere, except our

rooms, outside the gate, and wherever the others tell you not to." With that, she left

him to sort out the emotions that he hadn't felt in years.

W: “Well, I’ll put this one in the Sadness pile, and this one in the...hm...Embarrassment or Happiness?...”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She went into the meeting room where the others were waiting. Actually, it

was a patio in the garden they had.

W: Actually, no one gave a shit.

'What DO we do, Crystal? We can't just let him stay here all happy when it

was HIM that did that to you.'

Crystal thought. ' First thing's first. We need to gain his trust. I want him to

feel the pain that I felt al those years ago.

W: You felt up someone named Al?? How could you??

K: Poor Al. You can call me, Al. And you can call me Betty.

Until then, we need to capture his friends

as well. They're on their way. I left a quite noticeable trail once we entered the

woods.' She smiled.

K: Hansel and Gretel taught her well!

'We should send a welcoming party. It's not nice to leave

your guests in the dangerous forest all by themselves.' The others laughed.

W: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/EverybodyLaughsEnding

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The other rode through the forest. All were wary about the place, even the

Hobbits. Why would the trail that was Hell to follow at first, all a sudden

K[sarcastically]: Hey, you can either have one sudden or all of them. Make up your mind.

be as clear

as day?

W: Worst poem ever, I’m telling you.

As they made their way, they never felt the tiny wires begin their trek around

their bodies.

W: Well that’s disturbing. Are they alive??

Nor did they feel each one slowly and lightly knot around them...

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As the wires wrapped around them, the Fellowship was oblivious. Boromir,

Aragorn, Gilimi,

K: I get it now! The author didn’t mention a Dwarf in chapter one because he’s canonically a mini-Balrog in this fic.

and Frodo DID sense something wrong though. * What in these

peaceful forests could possibly make me tense? There's nothing seemingly wrong.

So why am I wary? * thought Aragorn. * Probably because whatever was in here

was able to get Legolas * he thought wryly.

Suddenly, the hobbits began saying odd things. Things such as, "Can

someone give me a hand? I'm stuck," or, "Hey! I can't move!"

W: I mean, I’ve heard much odder things before, but whatever.

The others turned

W: ...to stone, and then a sudden lightning strike utterly obliterated them. The end.

to the hobbits, thinking they were joking. Boromir strode up to Frodo. "Come on,

lets not mess around anymore." As he neared Frodo, he lost the ability to move

his legs. "What the Devil?!"

K[Boromir]: Yeah, what is the Devil? I’ve never heard of such a thing, so why did I shout about it?

Soon, the others stopped moving as well. Their mounts sensed something

was amiss, and high-tailed it out of there.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

~ Crystal-sama won't be pleased. ~

~ Doshta? (why?) ~

W: “Doushita.”

The elf smiled. ~ Because these two men are giving me a hard time, keeping

them still. ~

The other laughed. ~ Someone hasn't been training lately, huh? ~

~ I guess you could say that. ~

After the 4 elves were positive that the Fellowship couldn't get loose, they

hopped down from their hiding place.

' My, my. Aren't we lucky, Yura? We set our traps for animals, and here

we caught ourselves some celebrities. '

W: Why would you name a character a Japanese name that means “farmer”? Or I guess it could be the onomatopoeia for swaying gently but whatevs

Strider thought it would be best to act calm. ' We apologize for setting off

Your

K: ...bear...

traps. Could you help us out? '

W: “This leg is pretty much done for, so you can just cut it off or something.”

The girls thought about it. Then they conversed among themselves.

K: They threw converse shoes all over.

W: It’s a hipster parade!

~ How about this. We'll let them go, but keep the wires on them. We'll

take them near the city, and when we're about 100 yds. away, we tie them back

up? ~ The others nodded.

"Why not?" Yura took a comb out of her clothes, and touched a certain

tooth on it.

W: Holy fucking shit. She did not. [sighs] Okay, guys, the author has once again stolen from InuYasha. There’s an early villain called Yura of the Hair who can control unbreakable, razor-sharp hair that is invisible to most mortals. Her true form is a cursed comb, so her “human” body is p much indestructible. This has been Wing’s Frustrated Crash Course in InuYasha, lesson 2.

The wires "magically" came off.

"Thank you..."

Diamond cut off whatever Strider was about to say. "We know what you

came for. Would you like us to show you the way?"

Gimili cut in before Aragorn could say anythiing.

K: Gimili’s special power is to cause misspellings wherever he treads.

W: Yeah, I don’t know why Aragorn would say “anythiing” otherwise.

"Wait a minute. You

wouldn't trust these four, would you? For one, they're elves. For another, they're

FEMALES.

W: “Calm the fuck down. No need to shout.”

Thirdly, they're wearing masks on their faces that give me the creeps."

K: Come on. It’s no Eyes Wide Shut situation.

(For an example of the masks a few of the masks, e-mail my friend, Crystal, at [REDACTED]@hotmail.com)

W: I bet she’s talking about Noh masks, another thing that is focused on briefly in InuYasha.

Aragorn thought. "It's the best lead we have. Might as well follow it." The

girls simply smiled. ~ Jeez, this was easier than I thought. ~

K: Okay. I can almost understand an author saying “God” or “Hell” in a LotR fanfic by accident. But “jeez?” Really?!

W: Speak for yourself, author. I’ve got a headache this big.

~ No kidding! ~

W: BUT THAT’S THE ONLY WAY I’LL SURVIVE THIS FIC!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A while later, curiosity got the best of Aragorn. " Why do you wear those

masks?"

The girls shot him a glare.

W: Aragorn crumpled to the ground with a groan of “I’VE BEEN HIT!”

~ If you must know, it is

K[girls]: ...because we miss Mardi Gras.

to hide our emotions. ~

"Pardon?"

Yura rolled her eyes. "If you don't understand what we said, that is your

own fault." Then she added slyly, "Maybe you could get..."

Diamond clapped her hand over Yura's mouth. ~ Unasi baka! (shut up stupid!)

W: “Urusai, baka.” Once again, the correct spelling AND my current sentiments towards the author.

K[Yura]: What?! You’re calling me a dummy and claiming I’m a Nazi?! What’s wrong with you?!

If you provoke them like that, he'll actually ask about it later. And we know he'll

tell him the Royal language!

W: How the fuck do you tell someone an entire language???

Crystal will choke you! ~ Yura shut up the rest of the

trip. The tense aura returned after that.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Legolas was walking around, when he stopped.

W: Bahahaha, oh my god, that’s the best sentence so far.

His jaw would be on the

floor if that were possible.

K: It’s possible… but the circumstances would have to be pretty horrific.

In front of him was the most beautiful garden in the

whole world. It wasn't kept trimmed, but it was a wild garden, so to speak.

W: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

As

he walked around, he noticed the figure near the lake. He walked toward it,

trying to get some sort of companionship.

W: “Oh, lake. You’re my only friend in the world.”

~ May I sit here with you? ~

The figure jerked with surprise.

W: “Holy shit, put yourself away!” the elf cried, hiding his scandalized eyes of undetermined color.

It was none other than Crystal herself.

~ I hope you're enjoying yourself, Legolas. ~

W: “Not as much as you just were! Holy shit!!”

~ It's been a while, hasn't it? ~

K: Well, at least it’s not a mean while.

Crystal laughed. ~ I guess you could say that. Of course, to an elf that

was nothing. A mere, what? 1,000 years or so? ~

~ That's true... ~ Legolas was relieved. It seemed that the pains had

been forgotten.

Crystal, on the other hand, was in a whole new ballgame.

W: New indeed, since I don’t think there are any ballgames in this universe.

Her

emotions reeled. It was torn between sadness, hate, betrayal, pure bliss, and

Uncertainty.

W: That’s too many fucking things, yo.

Legolas' question caught her off guard.

' Why do you wear a mask and cloak Crystal? It is as if you are hiding

from something. '

W: Uh, yeah, that’s what a mask and cloak are for. Hiding yourself.

* Or someone, * she thought wryly. Still though, she said nothing.

Legolas was confused. One moment, she was more or less talking to

him,

W: Can it be less?

and then she suddenly cold-shoulders him.

K: Well, she is Frosty.

W: YES!!

Then he asked a question

that had been plaguing him ever since the last time they met.

W: “Did you know there’s a piece of broccoli stuck between your teeth?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Cliffhanger! In order to find out what he says, you must review! ::laughs

evilly:: Before I set up the next chapter, I want at least a total review count of 25

reviews.

W: What are you, a fucking English teacher? “I want two pages, double-spaced, 12-point font!!”

Five per chapter or half chapter that I put up.

K: She’s holding people ransom?! I hate it when fanfic authors do this. The sad thing is, it sometimes works...

Two more things. I'm working on the story on how they met from Crystal's point

of view. The other thing is that I've finished the story. Yay! I've typed all the

chapters. All I have to do is post them. That means I'll post a new chapter up every

time I see I have 5 new reviews.

W:

Please remember that I don't get on everyday

anymore,

K: With an attitude like that, I’m surprised you get on with anyone.

so if my request if fulfilled, I'll probably have about 2-5 chapters a week.

Look for Chapter 5 sometime before next Monday!

[ellenembee]

The Revelation of All Things - 26. In which tugging tangled hurt leads to philosophical discussions

Read the full fic here on AO3.

Read on Tumblr (desktop)

Warning: Because I want to be as considerate as possible, super vague reference to dubious consent near the beginning of the chapter (just under the cut).

Cole sat in the corner and listened. Once most of the injured from Haven had passed on or recovered, he'd found the upper floors of the tavern a good place to find the hurt. As people drank, their brains loosened the tight hold on hurt and let it sing louder. He could find it better, though the helping became harder if the person drank too much.

He also wanted to be closer to Sera. She reeled in such circles, he thought he might never be able to catch hold and find a way to help, but being near her, he could see through the spinning hurt more clearly. Sometimes, she wanted to rip out the pain like she might an arrow festering in her flesh. Other times, she hugged it tight, shoving each cookie-shaped shard of pain deeper inside in an attempt to fill the emptiness. She made little sense to him. But few people made sense to him outside of the hurting and helping. He thought he might be able to help if she would trust in someone.

Along with Sera, the Iron Bull often sat downstairs nursing a drink, using loud laughter to cover up that he drank far less than anyone suspected. His mind presented a unique puzzle for Cole - bright flashes of memories that should cause hurt... would cause hurt if they'd happened to others. But a dark filter dulled the flashes, refused to allow the hurt to hurt. It should be good, but the gauze covering the brilliancy of memory was not of his own making. That made it bad. Cole couldn't understand it any better than that.

There in the tavern, he hovered on the fringes of a thousand thoughts. He heard the hurt call out like pin pricks in his ears, light touching the mind, fingers pinching at his skin, threads of memories wafting and waiting to be caught, pulled, untangled.

The door opened downstairs, and he sensed her - or rather the anchor - as she entered the tavern. Murmurs of respectful greeting followed her as she crossed through the tavern to the Iron Bull. 

Eyes and thoughts also followed her, most honored, awed, but a few, bitter like gall, rose up to sully Cole's mind - savage, slave, knife-ear, bet I could make the little rabbit scream if I bent her over-

Cole cut off the thoughts to listen to her conversation with the Iron Bull. He mentioned drinking to dragons the following evening, unadulterated excitement and a bright flash of hacking, bloody joy bubbling through the hazy filter. She laughed. Cole liked her laugh - light and airy clouds, soft pillows of melody. She started up the steps.

He watched her walk around to Sera's door. The Inquisitor's hurt usually hid behind the brightness of the anchor, but today, he could hear her clearly. Unsure. Scared of what it could mean. Hopeful. Have to stop thinking of him. Need a distraction. From his perch, he heard Sera speaking a part of her hurt out loud.

"So, Inquisitor. It is Inquisitor, now, right? Remember that war we talked about stopping? Full of little baddies I can stick with little arrows? That's not a friggin' Archdemon, is it? Andraste, what'd I step in?"

"Andraste? Let me know what she says. I could use some clarification myself."

"It's swearing, not praying!" Sera exclaimed before adding in a small voice, "She doesn't answer. Not like she's supposed to." Cold. Quiet. Too quiet. Death... can't think about it. "I know what happened to you, or what everyone here thinks happened. It seems... I don't know what it seems." Scary magic. Demons ... could she become an abomination?

"The ancient thing trying to kill us seems pretty real."

"Don't get me started! Oh... wait. Too late, right? A magister who cracked the 'Black City'? It's a hazy dream, right? I mean, if it's real real, then the seat of the Maker? Real thing. A seat needs a butt, so the Maker? Real thing. Fairy stories about the start and end of the world? Real things. It's too far, innit?" What is real?

Evana's face screwed up into a perturbed moue. "You joined to help the 'little people' caught up in this. But do you believe... or not?"

"In Andraste? Of course!"

"But you doubt what you're seeing and hearing?"

"It can't be true true. Even fanatics don't want to be this right. Look, I have arrows. I can make this Coryphellus believe in those. Good enough?" Sera lowered her voice as if talking to herself. "Please be good enough."

"But... you like to have fun. The Inquisition seems like an odd fit. Why are you really here?"

"What do you mean?" Does she see through me? "To help people."

"It's just starting to sound like you're looking for something more."

"More? Pfffttt..." I'm transparent, like glass. She sees inside. "Okay, fine. There's talk, and... I want to see."

"See what?"

"I don't know! I just... I've got all this Chantry stuff in my head, and it makes sense, right? But it's... fuzzy. I want to see if it's all really real. I just don't know if I want to really know. So, I'm selfish. It's all for me. Count yourself lucky, I guess."

"It's OK to doubt, Sera. I... I don't even know what I believe anymore, so how would I know? Is there a Maker? Were the ancient Elven gods really gods, or were they mortal beings that we lesser creatures just came to worship? What does it even matter in the end, right? We're here. What's done is done."

Yes. That. Keep wading in that. "Now you're making sense! What I want is to get everything back to business as usual. A nice, simple system with simple problems. Helps me. Helps people. Helps you. In that order. For now."

"You're starting to not sound completely crazy."

"I know? Scary, innit? So bring 'em on. But first, food. I'm starving."

Cole watched Sera take the Inquisitor's hand and lead her downstairs for supper while plaintive thoughts swirled around her in flurried snowflakes. Sera is stronger than she looks. We need strength. Don't think of strong hands. Don't think of dying. Don't think of him...

She thought of the Commander while he thought of her. Cole furrowed his brow, uncomprehending. They could speak, but they didn't. Fear, confusion, self-denial choking back words that could mend the deep fissures of their minds. The Commander's thoughts were not so harsh as the other templars - his song softer, gentler - but old hurts clung to him like the wounds healed and reopened time and again by his demon torturers. Where the demons left off, he took up ripping himself open to pour in anger and pain. However, as time marched onward, and despite the twisted lyrium lady's picking, the wounds healed. Only hideous scars now remained, eating at his sleep, eroding his confidence in his worthiness, the new him shamed by the him from before. Now, without the silver song to seep forgetfulness between the memories, the nightmares came and tormented him. Afraid to fail her again. Death... dying... abomination... Afraid to lose her. Afraid the song will be too much. It whispers all the time now, even on good days. But she's coolness in heat. Water to slake the deepest thirst. Maker, I want her so badly.

"I should tell her. Untangle fear with wanted words." Cole whispered himself down to where the Inquisitor sat. "Hello."

"Oh! Cole, you scared me. What are you up to tonight?"

Cole trained ice blue eyes on violet blue. "He's afraid, too, but he wants it anyway. Dorian helped him see."

Sera screwed her face up, stuck her tongue out at Cole and then turned to the Inquisitor. "Um... what's it talking about?"

The Inquisitor turned red. "N-nothing. Cole, can we speak of this later, just the two of us?"

"Did I help?"

"I... well... yes, actually. But it's not something we should discuss just now. OK?"

Cole smiled and nodded. The tumult of her mind quieted. He'd helped.

"Do you want to sit with us, Cole?" she asked.

"Yes. I'd like to sit."

Cole sat down and looked directly at Sera. Sera groaned. No no no no!

"Why'd you let it sit with us?"

Embarrassment cut through the brightness. "Sera!"

"You don't have to be afraid, Sera," Cole tried to assure her. "I won't hurt you."

"Go away, weirdo."

"I won't stab you when you are looking somewhere else. I won't do that to your boots. Or that other thing to your arrows. I don't understand what that last thing is, but I won't do it either."

Sera turned to the Inquisitor, accusation in her head and on her face. "Why does it keep talking at me? You did this. Why doesn't it talk to you?"

"I thought the party wasn't until tomorrow," came a fourth voice. "Don't you know that no party is complete without me?"

Dorian took another chair and sat down next to Cole.

"Shite! I'm surrounded by demons and magic-y folk." Sera rounded on Cole. "And could you at least not stare past my eyes? Creepy that."

"But you aren't your eyes. You live behind them."

Sera made a face. "See...? That right there, creepy! I'm out, Inky. You're on your own with this lot."

Sera grabbed her food and ran away to hide from fear. Cole would have to find another way to help her. Later. Right now Dorian's hurt drew his attention, bright and shining and tangled.

"Dorian, you said I could ask you questions."

Dorian sighed. "It's true. I did say that. But give me a moment. I need to get a chessboard so the Inquisitor can practice."

Dorian came back shortly with a board and set it up for a game. They started off, and within a few minutes Dorian took four pieces from the Inquisitor. Cole didn't know the rules, so he watched the pieces move as hurt flowed in and around him, tethered to this person or that. No one said anything. Once Cole figured out the game, however, he began giving the frustrated Inquisitor pointers.

"You should put the pretty black horse there."

Dorian made a noise of disbelief. "Are you helping her from what you can see in my mind?"

"No, I see other things in your mind." Cole turned to the man, picking up one thread out of the tangled mess of his hurt. "Why are you so angry at your father? He wants to help and you know he does, but--"

"I see you didn't forget after all." Dorian sighed. "I'm not certain I can explain it to you."

"You love him, but you're angry. They mix together, boiling in the belly until it kneads into a knot."

"Sometimes... sometimes love isn't enough, Cole."

"Enough what? Please explain, Dorian."

Dorian sighed again as he moved another piece on the board. "I was rather hoping I had."

Cole saw the pain, and he spoke it, trying to pull it out and make it hurt less. "His face in the stands, watching as I pass the test. So proud there's tears in his eyes. Anything to make him happy. Anything. Why isn't that true anymore?"

"Cole, this... is not the sort of discussion to have in a tavern. Please drop it."

Distress welled up inside Cole. "I'm hurting you. Words winding, wanting, wounding. You said I could ask."

Dorian finally turned his attention from the board and looked at Cole. "I know I did. The things you ask are just... very personal."

"But it hurts you. I want to help, but it's all tangled with the love. I can't tug it loose without tearing it. You hold him so tightly. You let it keep hurting, because you think hurting is who you are. Why would you do that?"

Dorian looked at the Inquisitor. "Can you tell him to stop? Banish him back to the Fade or something!"

The Inquisitor smiled softly. A soothing smile. Cole wished she would always smile like that.

"Cole wants to help you," she countered. "Maybe you should let him."

Dorian sighed a third time, more heavily than before if possible. "Marvelous! Everyone's so helpful! Have you let him help you?"

Embarrassment again. Cole felt a little uncomfortable for some reason. He turned to Dorian and nodded.

"I told her about the Commander."

Dorian perked up immediately. "Oh? And what did you say about the Commander?"

The Inquisitor cut in. "Dorian, it's not appropriate..." "You just got a glimpse of my life that I didn't necessarily want to share. Turnabout is fair play."

The Inquisitor pressed her lips into a taut line, then nodded, face reddening further. "Cole simply said that the Commander was ... afraid... but he wanted it, too. And that you were the one to help him see."

Dorian cackled and smacked his leg, a joyful expression on his face. Cole liked the change from his previous sour mood. Perhaps Dorian liked to help, too, in his own way?

"Oh, did he now? It's good to know all that chess playing wasn't in vain. He is quite a formidable opponent, though. I believe we're tied on wins now."

She smiled, but turned to Cole. "Do you understand why it wasn't appropriate to say those things out loud, especially around other people, Cole?" Confusion clouded the words. Both their minds were more at ease since he'd shared the Commander's thoughts, but the Inquisitor told him it was bad.

"But I helped you both."

"But... when you do that, you rob people of the ability to say such things themselves. If Cullen were to say that to me now, it would have less impact because I already knew it. It would lessen a moment between us. Does that make more sense?"

"So..." Cole began slowly, "you'd rather hear the words from the person they belong to?"

"Yes. Most of the time. Unless that person has absolutely no intention of saying anything... but even then." She sighed, trying to shuffle thoughts around to make a picture for him. "You see, there's something that shifts in a person when they decide a thought should be shared, spoken out loud, with another person. It's significant. We all have a lot of thoughts that we'd never want shared because they are just thoughts we'd never dream of putting into action. But when I'm struggling with something, I have a choice to speak or not. When you speak our thoughts for us, it takes our choice away from us. It can be a good thing, but other times... I don't know. Dorian, you just had your relationship with your father laid before me. What are your thoughts?"

Dorian had been silent through the Inquisitor's speech, but his mind roiled. Pain and relief... darkness and light... Is the knowing better than the not knowing? Doubt pushed in and muddled already muddy thoughts.

"I think you're right if the relationship is between two people who are likely to find their way eventually. For people who have no intention of reconciling - or are separated by great distances - I think Cole's gift could give some comfort at the very least and might even lead to a better outcome for both parties. Even though I'd rather not discuss these things in public, I wouldn't necessarily mind discussing them privately."

Cole nodded, catching a glimmer of understanding from the Inquisitor's words. Evana. His friend. A strange shift rippled through him, and the idea took on weight, solidifying a small piece of the circling, nebulous, ever-changing world inside his head. A thought... his own thought. One with such weight now as he thought he might be able to hold on to it, place it on a shelf where he could come back to look at it. He turned to Evana with questioning tone.

"So... you're saying I shouldn't tell the Commander how often you think of his hands - large, warm, strong - touching your body?"

Evana instantly became distressed. "No, Cole! Do NOT tell him that! Creators! I... I thought you couldn't read me like the others?"

"If your hurt is bright enough, it shines louder," Cole explained. "And you think that a lot."

Tears streamed down Dorian's face from his laughter. "Oh, you are more than hopeless..." He stopped laughing, wiped his eyes and gave her a lecherous look. "They are very nice hands, though. Big and strong... and you know what they say about a man with big hands? I can tell you, anecdotally, it's true."

"Oh, shut it, Dorian," she said without much bite as she swatted at him playfully, her cheeks flaming. "Or I'll tell Cole to ask you more questions about your father."

Dorian quickly quieted down. "As you wish."

A random chuckle burst from Dorian here and there, but overall, the mage remained silent. They turned back to the game and continued to play until it was apparent to both of them that she would lose... again.

Evana's mind filled with a conversation. Subterfuge. Can I lie to him? No. Upfront is better - can't bear to destroy the tentative trust. I won't trick him.

Yes. That could help. Cole stayed silent and let her speak it, though.

"Dorian, not to turn things so serious yet again, but speaking of your father... I had a conversation with Mother Giselle right before I came here. There's a letter you need to see."

"And this letter is from-?"

"From your father, yes."

Dorian leaned back in his chair, the game forgotten. Threads shuffled and shifted, pulling tighter in places, loosening in others. Father. The word stifles and scrapes at me. Can I bear to see even just his written word?

"And what does Magister Halward want, pray tell?"

"A meeting."

Dorian reached forward, his finger beckoning. "Show me the letter."

Evana reached into her pocket and pulled out the parchment, afraid of wicked wounds reopened. Trepidation coating his nerves like icy armor, Dorian grabbed the letter from her hands and read it, snorting as he reached the end.

"'I know my son'? What my father knows of me would barely fill a thimble." He threw the letter on the chessboard, scattering a few pieces. "This is so typical. I'm willing to bet this 'retainer' is a henchman hired to knock me over the head and drag me back to Tevinter."

Evana looked sympathetic, but the fear remained. "Or it could be the Venatori. Lure us somewhere remote, then ambush us."

Dorian tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Perhaps... although this does look like my father's penmanship. Or... could he have joined the Venatori? No... that can't... well, I suppose anything is possible."

He leaned forward, frustration etching his bones as it twisted the lines of his face. "I assume you've told me all this because you want me to go?"

Evana shrugged. "I think it might be good to see what's really going on. But I'll do whatever you choose."

Dorian gave a curt nod. "Alright, let's go. Let's meet this so-called 'family retainer.' If it's a trap, we escape and kill everyone! You're good at that. If it's not, I send the man back to my father with the message that he can stick his 'alarm' in his 'wit's end.'"

Relief flooded through her, carrying her mood higher. "OK! We'll leave before dawn the day after tomorrow, ride hard, talk with the retainer - or kill everyone, as you say - and then be back before anyone really notices we're gone. We can prepare for the Western Approach once we return to Skyhold."

"Hmmmm... that means we'll have to watch ourselves at the party tomorrow night... just like my father to ruin everything. I wonder how much he paid this retainer to wait around in case I showed? I guess we'll find out soon enough."

Evana laughed and then took a sobering breath. She gestured to the parchment on the table.

"Do you want to keep the letter?"

Dorian looked at it, his insides hot and stifled like a too tight collar. Reading words - do they give more hope or more pain? Finally, he grabbed the letter, stuffed it in his pocket and then looked back to the board.

"I take it the game is finished?"

"I would have lost anyway, and I've got to get some work done tonight. We have more nobles to meet with tomorrow." She grimaced, her insides folding in on themselves at the whispered slights she feared behind every cupped hand to rounded ear. "It almost has me convinced to meet with Madame de Fer, though I abhor her politicking. She could easily help Josephine with all these fat heads."

Dorian snorted. "Tell us how you really feel, darling."

"She's loyal to the Circles, you know? I mean the ones that treat mages like prisoners."

Dorian echoed Evana's grimace. "Well, everyone has problems, right? If she's a strong mage, use her to help the cause. You don't have to like her for her to be an asset. Like Blackwall."

"I don't dislike Blackwall," Evana huffed. "I just don't understand him. He reacts opposite of how I think he will every single time I speak with him."

"Which is why you don't speak with him?"

She shrugged, the discomfiting memory of one or two stilted conversations outside Haven rising up to fill her thoughts. So abrupt. Left is right. Up is down. Intent of words mangled by misunderstanding.

"He doesn't seem to like my conversation anyway. He and Cassandra - and he and Sera for that matter - get along well enough. I can't be best friends with everyone."

"I should hope not!" Dorian exclaimed. "It's much more gratifying to be one of a select few of the Inquisitor's 'close, personal friends.'" They shared a smirk, and she rolled her eyes playfully. After a moment, Dorian added, "But to get back to the point, can you really afford to refuse help, no matter where it comes from?" Like the help you took from this evil 'Vint.

"I suppose you're right," she muttered grudgingly, her mind also touching on the whispered words. Knife-ear. Rabbit. Vint. Misfits, all of us. "I'll think on it."

They stood from the table, heavy thoughts in their minds. But the hurt shone less brightly than before, and both of them seemed satisfied with the way things ended for now. Sometimes the deep hurts took time to untangle. And Cole was nothing if not patient.

He whispered away, the other two having forgot his presence completely. He felt another, stronger pull, now. The Commander's hurt shone bright like a beacon in the night. Cole needed to find a way to help him, too. That would be harder now that he couldn't talk about her.