#most peculiar ask ive received

[unlimitedgolden]

hey I just found out I was special needs and apparently you're one of them

yes. can i help u with that, do u need my wisdom or like. are you looking to have a duel with me?

[dreamalittledreamofcopia]

blessed the latter part

papa iv/copia x reader

You could watch the snow falling outside where you sat in the library. Your table and chair was tucked away, in a corner by a window, hidden by a few catacombs and bookshelves. This was your favorite spot to sit quietly and be away from the hustle and bustle of life in the abbey, and days where you received your favorite visitor here were all the more special.

You weren’t expecting Copia to come find you today, however. His pillow talk the previous night had consisted of a few regrettable changes to plans for the week due to some meetings that were an ugly surprise from Sister Imperator. Copia’s break was ending, you feared what came next for your lover-in-secret. What started as a few flirty texts while he was away on tour as a cardinal turned into an on and off affair that had been on since Copia brought you on the first leg of the Imperatour. You didn’t want to tell anyone at the ministry about it, but the ghouls knew. The ghouls always knew, but aside from them, as far as you knew, it was secret.

He had also asked you to do some research for him, so like a good partner, you set aside a few hours to attempt to answer a few of his questions about the book of Job and his peculiar award. You could still see the adorable roll of his brows and the creases in his eyelids as he asked you why Job would name his daughter Eyeshadow in the candle light.

You were started, then, when you heard some familiar footfalls echo off the marble walls towards you. He stopped a few feet away from you, his shadow elongating across the snowy window, and cleared his throat timidly. It was one of your favorite Copia noises and you smiled warmly at the welcome sight of your lover.

“Your bangs are curly.”

You looked up to find him standing above you, his jacket off and cracked in his arms. His frame was hugged by his waistcoat, and the sight was intoxicating. You motioned for him to sit at the table — he obliged after some coaxing.

“Yeah-“ you cleared your throat and watched as he sat besides you, “I didn’t have time to straighten them this morning.”

Copia leaned over and gently tapped the end of his pen against your temple. When you giggled, he dragged it through the front part of your hair, a short curl springing out and framing your forehead. “They look so beautiful,” he hummed softly, his other hand moving towards the back of your head. You felt his fingertips pad against your scalp, someplace between a message and a scratch, sensational through your still damp roots. You had to fight your eyes from rolling back into your head and a moan slipping out of your lips, and your efforts only half worked.

“Papa…” you whispered, knowing you were the only two in this part of the library but still scared of someone finding you here like this. So scared of your secret romance finally being exposed. So scared of Imperator hearing you call him by his name and banishing you on the spot.

Copia, sensing your apprehension, just smiled at you calmly. He kept his hand behind your head but brought his over around your face, his fingers gently running over the little curlies around your eyes. “I like them like this, a lot. Very sweet, amore.” He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss above the tail of your eyebrow, his lips gently grazing over your bangs in the process. “My sweet love, dolce amore.”

Copia loved to whisper to you in public. Little words of affection and terms of endearment sent out only for you to receive, his love declared for you in the most visible of secret places. You knew you couldn’t keep this up forever, but you enjoyed the idea that you could and enjoyed that you were fooling everyone so terribly.

“I’m glad I get to see you today,” you whispered, subconsciously leaning into the touch you craved, “I thought I wouldn’t until dinner, if I was lucky.”

“Things are going smoother than anticipated,” Copia grinned, his papal paint slightly smudged around his lips from biting or pursing or the quick good-bye you snuck in this morning or the latte you snuck him later in the day, “I think the ghouls wanted to rush, for some reason.” He leaned forward and gently leaned his forehead against yours, “But I think I can guess. They’re very compassionate.”

You giggled at the thought of the ghouls cooperating just to get Copia back home to you, even if it was just for a fifteen minute break. “That’s so sweet.”

“Aurora told me your hair was cute today,” Copia mused, twirling one of your curled bangs around his fingers, “your hair is cute everyday but she was right about this one. I never get to see this.”

You tilted your chin up to meet Copia’s lips in a soft, delicate kiss, careful of the remaining paint around his lips. He hummed appreciatively, satisfaction coursing through his soul.

“I love you,” he whispered before reconnecting with you in another kiss.

“When will I see you next?” You whispered back, your breath fanning across his lips.

“Dinner, probably,” he said with a wistful sigh, “but I had to see you for some motivation. Tu mi dai la forza, angelo.”

“Mmm, that reminds me,” you said, a dopey smile on your face as you swam in his sweet scent and his sweet words, “I need another Italian lesson, Papa.”

“But you just had one last night,” Copia mused, tapping your chin lovingly, “I’m a busy Papa, you know. Can’t spend all my nights teaching you the language of love.”

That was a lie, or a half truth, perhaps — Copia would be a busy Papa because of you. He would be busy with you, devoting all his time to enjoying and loving and treasuring you. Copia didn’t plan to spend another night apart from you. He’d gladly give all of his nights to you, if you’d have them.

“I’m sure you can tweak your schedule to fit me in,” you pouted. Copia took the opportunity to press a kiss full and flush into your lips, papal makeup be damned.

“Then I’ll prepare a lesson,” he said softly as he stood back up.

“Oh, please don’t go,” you said, reaching up to take his hand in yours.

“mi dispiace, amore,” Copia replied as he laid his other hand on your face, cupping it gently. His thumb gently brushed your curly bangs out of your eyes. “I have to get back so we can end today before six.”

You nodded, turning your head to kiss the inside of his wrist, between the end of his glove and the beginning of his sleeve. “I understand but that doesn’t mean I like it.”

Copia laughed softly and nodded, leaning down to give you one last forehead kiss. “I know, I know. Find me some answers, okay? I trust you.” He stroked your face lovingly, his eyes staring down into yours and drinking you in before he gently patted your cheek. “I’ll see you soon, baby.” He said, almost mournfully as he went back to his meeting and he left you with his research, which would be filled with his name in hearts by the latter half of the hour, more than the former part.

[devildomwriter]

One Little Thing, A Ring Part III | Mammon x Reader

.6K Words | GN Reader | CW: Angst

With Lucifer’s help, a wardrobe change, and strict instructions, Mammon had landed a decent paying gig. The only place that would hire him was the Demon Lord’s Castle and Mammon had his work cut out.

Barbatos delighted in putting Mammon to work as much as possible. He and Diavolo knew why Mammon was there and as two men who’d also competed for your heart, they were going to make Mammon work for you. It was meant to be educational but it was also for their own satisfaction as some sense of revenge.

“I still don’t understand. Why Mammon?” Diavolo asked Lucifer as they sipped on their tea and watched Mammon prune the roses from the balcony.

“___ has peculiar taste.” Lucifer complained.

“Careful Mammon, that’s our favorite bush,” Barbatos called down to him and Mammon audibly panicked and with trembling hands started carefully trimming branches down one by one.

“Must you tease him?” Lucifer asked and Barbatos grinned.

“I must, yes. ___ deserves nothing less than perfect so we must ensure that that is what they receive. If we cannot give that to them, we must make sure Mammon does.”

Diavolo nodded in agreement with his butler and paused after taking another sip. “You know…they could always be interested in polygamy. If not now then later down the road. Surely Mammon as entertaining as he can be can’t provide for them like any of us could.”

Lucifer nodded and sipped his tea. “I agree. Thanks to their magic they’ll live a very long time. We must be patient, that’s all.”

Diavolo nodded but Lucifer could notice the small shake as he set the tea down gently. Everyone reacted in their own ways to your relationship with Mammon and Diavolo did his best to bottle it up but sometimes he couldn’t help small moments of sadness or anger slipping through.

The labor intensive work he was putting Mammon through was one example. Mammon wasn’t aware of it but Diavolo intended to pay whatever the cost may be for the ring Mammon thought best for you. Diavolo wouldn’t allow you to be disappointed.

“Speaking of ___, where are they right now?” Barbatos inquired as he kept his eye trained on Mammon who was attempting to use hedge clippers.

“I believe they’re doing some kind of job with the sorcerer’s association.”

“Taking on odd jobs?” Diavolo asked, curious.

Lucifer shrugged, “they aren’t talking much about it. They’re very tired by the time they come home. Not only do they have work but then they must portal themselves into another dimension and do it all again in a few hours.”

“Mm…it’s odd they’d take on a job like that considering they can do essentially anything they wanted to,” Diavolo speculated and it stayed silent as they listened to Mammon panic as he stumbled upon a nest of Hellfire Wasps.

“Oh dear…I suppose I ought to call for the exterminator,” Barbatos sighed. “Perhaps Mammon could work.”

Lucifer’s brow furrowed. “No. Call a professional before the situation worsens.” Lucifer advised but truly he was worried Mammon would get stung to hell and as much as he was jealous right now, he wasn’t going to let Barbatos and Diavolo thrust Mammon into agonizing danger.

Diavolo knew that’s why Lucifer made the suggestion and relented for his friend’s sake. “That’s most advisable,” he nodded and Lucifer relaxed into his chair as he heard Mammon screaming and running across the yard.

Mammon was fast enough to escape but began crashing into things in the process. Lucifer glanced at Barbatos who was eying him exasperatedly.

“Send the bill later.”

Barbatos nodded, “I could deduct it from his pay.”

Lucifer waved his hand in disagreement, “just send the bill.”

Just as Lucifer began feeling bad for Mammon, Mammon scaled the wall and used Lucifer as a shield against the wasps. The wasps were instantly vaporized from Lucifer’s magic as he tore Mammon a new one for leading dangerous creatures straight to the prince.

Part I • Part II • Part IV • Part V

[merakiui]

For the fanfic writers directors cut:

Could you give some commentary on sea glass? Particularly, why azul and the tweels had such an obsession with the main character and not her brother as well?

Thank you for asking!!! I will gladly give Sea Glass commentary.

(ask game)

To begin, the man who was keeping Reader captive is not their brother. The two figures from the man's diary are himself and his (presently deceased) sister; they aren't blood-related to Reader. Reader is just the unfortunate soul who happened to become entangled in this years-long scheme.

In the story, this is noted:

And that was how it began. Grand wishes were to be granted with grand payment. It was decided that every two years the house would provide the trio with a human and in return they would grant the boy’s wish regardless of how outlandish it might have been. He could have anything he wanted—riches, health, or power—and all it took was one person’s sacrifice.

The deal Azul arranged with the man is, essentially, one in which the man benefits at the cost of a human life. Azul needs humans because he's experimenting [redacted for Moonbroch spoilers] (which he cryptically touches upon in the fic when he says his research has concluded), and the most feasible way to attain humans is to get them from another human (i.e. the man). The man keeps one human within his home for two years, caring for and conditioning them according to what Azul instructs, and by the end of the two year period he must relinquish them to Azul and the twins no matter what, as per the terms of the contract. In exchange, Azul grants the man's wish.

Normally, the exchange is emotionless, but this time the trio took special interest in Reader. Most of the reasoning for this will be explained in Moonbroch (the sequel), but I will note that they have all grown obsessively fond of Reader after a few very important events in the story's plot prior to the murder and what follows in Sea Glass. The trio have something of a business partnership with the man; they never cared much for him (or his sister) to begin with, but they do care a lot for Reader. >:)

Additionally, for further context, the story (and hints of the deal) are told from Jade's pov in these tiny snippets, which may just provide more background into the situation from an objective perspective:

i. the house on the hilltop is curious. two bipedal creatures enter, but only one ever leaves. as for us, we are confined to the shadowy depths of the sea, bearing silent witness to the tale of unwilling coexistence.  ii. every other year we receive a gift from that peculiar house on the hilltop. when the debt collector makes his biennial trip to the surface and collects what’s owed, we are permitted to relish in the scraps of what’s left behind. as per the agreement, we grant a single wish to those who can pay the steep price. iii. humans often throw coins into wells and fountains, but such beliefs are rooted in false hope. the house on the hilltop is devoid of such hope, yet its human comes to us with materialistic wishes every two years. perhaps his own fruitless ‘hope’ began when the price for a single wish became the life of his kin. iv. the house on the hilltop is blood-stained. a caged angel exists within, hiding claws and fangs. we are not strangers to the food chain, but the carnivorous nature of a once domesticated angel is certainly a curiosity to behold.  v. the house on the hilltop sits serene and abandoned. there is no business to be found inside and we no longer watch from a distance. having freed the angelfish from devious clutches, there is no reason to regard an empty, hopeless place.

[cryptic-tales]

If You Have Ghosts

Papa Emeritus IV x Reader words: ~1500 a/n: this a part of my failed ghostober 2022 attempt. warnings: none

In which Popia finds out about your strange hobby and wants to partner up.

There were many things that your fellow Clergy members didn't know about you. For example, you were fairly certain that most of them had no idea just what kind of unordinary habits and rituals you engaged in at night. Ones that, even amongst Satan worshippers, would be considered rather peculiar. There were not sexual in nature, despite the rumours that would occasionally spread across the abbey when some curious soul stumbled upon your late night antics. At night, you would walk the long corridors of The Ministry all by yourself, gathering enough materials to carry out your plans. Then, in the quiet solitude of your living quarters, you would perform ancient rites rare and forgotten, even by the oldest members of the Clergy. Anyone who asked about your outings would receive a healthy dose of tailored lies. They believed it everytime, choosing to accept your made-up stories and simply moving on with their daily tasks. It was a rare occurrence for someone to keep digging, asking questions and trying to debunk your testimonies.

That being said, when a letter from the newly promoted Papa Emeritus IV slipped underneath your doorway one late evening, summoning you to his quarters so you could 'discuss your unusual habits in person', you were surprised to say the least.

For a good few minutes, you sat at the edge of your bed, dumbfounded and pale as a ghost. You re-read his words a couple of times, committing them to your memory. After taking a shaky breath, you realized your hands were sweating profusely. Not only that, but the loud beating of your heart was the only thing you could hear in the deafeningly quiet room. You ran to your bathroom, quickly slipping on your usual gown, deciding it would be rude and unwise to make your Papa wait any longer.

The whole walk there, you were pondering your next moves. How much did he know? Depending on exactly what kind of information he obtained and from whom, you believed you could lie your way out of this. You were aware that the ritual you would perform every full moon was restricted, and only the higher-ups were allowed to perform it. Truth be told, nearly all of your magical rites were either completely prohibited or frowned upon in the Clergy. Had he found out about them, he could've easily stripped you of your power and banished you. As a Cardinal, Copia was a lenient man who had a reputation of being a down to earth kind of guy, one that you had no problem talking to and even persuading into letting you use the prohibited sections of the library in order to gain knowledge about black magic. As a Papa however, you had no idea how to approach him. After being gone for so long, people were talking about Copia and his supposed change in personality. Rumours had it that he had become a tyrant, that he let his newfound power mess with his head and turned him cruel and delirious.

You could only hope that rumours were untrue.

Once you finally found yourself outside his room, you knocked twice on the heavy wooden doors. Almost as if he was right by the entrance, waiting for you to knock, the doors opened instantly and it nearly made you jump out of your own skin. Copia's stark white eye stared at you, the look on his face unreadable. You bowed, greeting him politely.

"Oh, it's you cara mia. Please, do come in," he said, stepping aside so you could enter his room.

Cara mia? Since when did he start using this nickname on you? You shook the thoughts off your head and stepped inside, immediately being greeted by the comfortable warmth of his living quarters. With one quick look, you took in the entirety of the room. It was spacious, richly decorated and lavish. Walls were covered with tall bookshelves and antique looking paintings, a huge fireplace stood to your right and two loveseats in front of it. There was an office space with a huge, oak desk standing by the stained-glass window and a door that you assumed led to Copia's bedroom. It was everything you expected of Papa's chambers and more, even though you couldn't admire them in their full glory now. The room was almost entirely hidden in darkness, the fireplace being the only source of light.

"Why don't you take a seat? Make yourself comfortable, eh? I'll make you some tea," he scurried away and for a moment, you didn't know what to do with yourself. Reluctantly, you sat down on one of the loveseats, wondering if this whole ordeal was a trap. Maybe he would try to poison your tea? The things you've heard about Copia in the past weeks came back, telling you that you had to keep your guard up. At the same time, you found it hard to believe that he changed all that much. It seemed like the sweetly awkward Cardinal that had left the Ministry all those months ago was still there, with his body language and hesitant movements.

"I'm glad you were able to come here so quickly," he said, setting the warm cup of tea on the coffee table right in front of you. You nodded your head, picking up the cup and taking a sip of the drink. It was hotter than you anticipated, stinging your tongue unpleasantly.

"It would be untactful of me to keep the new Papa waiting, wouldn't it?" You answered him. With that, you had no idea what to say next. You were scared of looking at Copia, afraid of that piercing white eye. Most importantly, you were scared of what he would say to you, of what you would see on his face if you were to look at him.

Copia cleared his throat, "Thank you for being so mindful of my time, but I'd wait for you," you looked at him, slightly flabbergasted by his words. There was warmth in his eyes, or at least in his green eye. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he looked almost smitten. However, just as quick as the strange look appeared, it was gone, "I mean, If you had any other plans that is. It is rather late anyways, right? I know I said in the letter to come as soon as possible, but it would be perfectly understandable if you-" he began rambling, so you cut him short.

"It's more than okay, Papa," you said, sighing. There was no avoiding it, time to address the elephant in the room, "You wanted to talk to me about my… unusual behavior?"

Copia perked up, "Yes, actually, that's the reason why I have summoned you tonight. I would like to ask you about something."

With that, he got up and went towards his desk. The suit he was wearing clung to his form deliciously and you found yourself admiring him, every curve and every movement of his body. Lost in thoughts, you snapped out of it once a heavy book hit the coffee table in front of you with a loud thud. Looking at Copia, he had a shy smile on his face.

"I would like to ask for your guidance," he said, his chest puffed proudly, almost as if he did in fact notice you staring.

You looked down at the old, clothbound book in front of you and immediately recognized the latin title written on the front. It was one of the prohibited books on black magic, necromancy specifically. You had an opportunity to get your hands on a copy of this version in particular a few years prior and studied it for a long time. Copia drank in your expression as you realized what was in front of you.

"What kind of guidance?" You inquired, opening the book and admiring the old drawings that decorated the pages, "Don't tell me you're practicing necromancy now."

The older man in front of you chuckled, a smile on his face growing, "I'm not interested in becoming a necromancer, but I do need… advice, so to say, from one, and I know you could offer me that help."

So he knew. He knew you were a necromancer, he knew you could conjure the spirits of the deceased. He was fully aware of your practices, he knew they were frowned upon. Yet, he wasn't banishing you. He wasn't mad at all. Copia must've noticed the confused look on your face as he laughed, "What, did you think I didn't know? I was the one who let you borrow this book from the library years ago, remember? I also heard about your late night outings."

You heaved a sigh of relief, a smile gracing your features once all the tension left your body, "You're right, I remember. I'm sorry Papa, I didn't know what to expect. What kind of help do you need?"

"First of all, you can call me Copia. Second of all, I think you already know who I want to summon," he said, and a memory of his deceased brothers came to your mind. Somehow, you knew immediately what he wanted. The look in his eyes was intense, piercing through you. The shadows from the fire danced on his face gracefully and, for the first time, you realized that his moustache was gone.

"For the sake of the church, will you partner up with me?" He extended his gloved hand towards you.

You took it, shaking his hand firmly and for a moment, you could swear that his white eye was glowing.

[fanficsforheartandsoul]

A Wolf’s Heart | [Deglan x M!Reader] | The Witcher | Part VII

Note: I’m proud (more like ashamed haha...) to announce that the one year anniversary of this requested fic has already passed, like oh god... Ngl I struggled so hard to find the direction I wanted to take this, I had several ideas but mid-writing I wanted to change it again and now we have this. Writing is hard. This will be a life-time lesson for me. But ey depression is really a big hurdle sometimes so yeah... anyways, please enjoy and once again, sorry for the wait :)

Fandom: The Witcher

Warnings: Mentions of Blood, Swearing, Depression, Angst, Slight OOC, Non-Canon Story, Century Typical Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Spiraling, Injuries, Self-Concious Reader, Misunderstandings, Mentions of Alcohol Abuse, Mentions of Addiction

Summary: After having suffered heavy injuries at the beginning of winter and being unable to return to Kaer Morhen, Y/N tries to mend his relationships slowly by approaching one of his friends but someone thwarts his plans and he has not yet prepared himself to meet that person again. 

Word Count: 5.05k

Taglist: @thatsequoia​

Note 2: For all the people wondering about the postal service in this story - like how the fuck did those letters find the witchers on the Path... Magic baby 😎 

The name of Deglan’s horse (Borsuk) translates to badger. 

This part mentions Vergen, which appears in the 2nd Witcher game but I haven’t played this game, so my description is inaccurate.

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VIII, Part IX

Masterlist

Deglan once thought he was a patient man. He was wrong. 

Birke was in two weeks and he was about to lose his fucking mind. 

Y/N was invading every second of his days and he had a hard time focusing on training the new brats and lecturing them. Every little thing reminded him of the younger witcher in some way or another. 

In every nook of the school's keep, he could conjure up a memory of them together and if he couldn't touch the other soon, hold him in his arms, kiss him, he would go on a rampage. 

His bad mood could be sensed not only by his apprentices but also by the other witchers. Most of them had already left on the Path, the bunch he trained for example, but some were still here. And all of them were known to be lazy and therefore, their presence stoked his fury whenever he saw them chattering away and lazing around in the Evening hall. 

The fiery annoyance was visible in his eyes and so most avoided him whenever they crossed his path. 

While their presence had been a curse, the presence of one peculiar younger witcher ended up as a blessing. 

Wendir, Y/N's close friend, was one of the men who still lingered in the school and one peculiar Saturday evening, he ended up knocking on Deglan’s door. 

He was working on his next lecture when he heard the knock and he raised an eyebrow when he came face to face with the witcher he had trained alongside of Y/N, Fenri, Barmin and the three others.

The brown-haired man looked serious and a suspicious feeling rose in his chest.

"I received a letter.” 

Those four words were enough for Deglan's heartbeat to speed up. 

Wordlessly he received the paper from the other and he began to read. 

Wendir,

I write to you in hope that you will try to understand my thinking and actions with an objective view. I don't dare send these words to Fenri or Barmin because I must have made them angry and I expect them to doubt my words, which they have every right to do. You're free to do so as well, though I beg you to try and see my reasoning before making your opinion about me. 

As you may know, I haven't returned to Kaer Morhen this winter and have yet to explain why I couldn't. 

At this point, I'm certain you're aware... of my secret, but please do not blame my absence on that. 

You might have already left the keep and though I am uncertain of your next location I ask you to meet me in Vergen and give me the opportunity to explain myself. 

I’m not there yet but I am close and as slow as I currently am, I expect to arrive around the time of Birke and if you still ride like you did when we were younger you possibly will as well. 

I hope to see you soon. 

Y/N, Vengerberg

If you could spare some herbs for me... An accident happened and I lost most of my stash...

Deglan read the letter twice and it took him less than a second to make a decision after he read the last sentence again.

He pointed his finger at Wendir and his voice held a determined tone: 

"You saddle your horse and Borsuk." 

The younger man blinked. 

"Right now?" 

Deglan pushed the letter into Wendir’s hands and began to button up his shirt.

"Right now. And fucking hurry up! I'll go and talk to Rennes before we depart." 

Wendir scratched his head but the brown-haired witcher turned around and hurried down the hall.

Deglan’s lips formed a grim smile as he pulled his witcher medaillon from underneath his shirt and then he turned around and quickly grabbed a few things from his shelves and stuffed them in the bags he had already prepared weeks ago. 

His heartbeat quickened as he put on his fur cloak and his sword scabbards over it. He loosened their belts a bit and then grabbed his armoured gloves. 

Almost, he thought as he put them on as well. 

He glanced at the papers on his table. The lesson plan for the next few days, the unfinished suggestion letter for another parcours course. 

Fuck his lectures, fuck the brats he had to teach and fuck Rennes. 

He would leave right now, whether their leader wanted that or not. He would not ask for permission this time. 

Quickly he wrote down a few words on a piece of paper, left the note on his bed and then he grabbed his bags and walked out of the room to go and find some herbs he could bring with him for Y/N.

Half an hour later Deglan and Wendir left through the gate.

Brace yourself, bastard. I’m done being patient, Y/N.

-

Lisica followed the path to Vergen in a slow but steady walk. The mare seemed content to take it easy for once and her ears moved around to take in all the sounds of the surrounding wildlife. 

Her rider absent-mindedly petted her mane and was deep in thought. 

Will he come?

Y/N had hesitated at first but Hannes convinced him to write a letter to one of his friends. 

At first, he thought about Barmin but something inside of him was too self-conscious to write to his best friend. It was the fact that he had not sent the other a letter in the last few months, he addressed the one where he apologized for his absence to Fenri...

In the end, he chose Wendir, the youngest of their friend group. He might be more understanding in this situation than his best friend. The brunette was surprisingly the most rational besides Barmin. Probably because he had a lot of time to think since he always used to avoid chores and his training in the school’s keep. 

Fond memories rose and he lifted his head to squint at the sun. He still had to ride for a few more hours before he would reach the next bigger village. And from there it would take him another 3 days until he would arrive in Vergen. 

The prospect of more aching leg muscles and a sore butt caused him to smile grimly. 

He had wanted to buy a new saddle for months now but he did not have the money. He had spent most of it on his unexpected stay in Vengerberg and alcohol. The druid, who more or less did a good job, had been expensive and even though Iven gave him a discount on his stay in the tavern, Y/N’s pockets were lighter than he liked. 

His annoyance only grew as he thought of how he spent the coins he had received from Fenri’s hunt. 

He sighed and patted his healing leg. It still hurt a bit and that was why he was travelling at such a slow speed. He didn’t want to hinder the healing process so he was riding at snail’s pace. 

On one side, it was relaxing, on the other, it was boring and it gave his mind a lot of time to wander and to mull over his upcoming stay in Vergen.

He really hoped Wendir would come. 

He needed someone by his side because the prospect of having lost his friends and giving up on the love of his life was filling his head with dark thoughts and things he did not want to think about at all. 

He sighed deeply.

I hope I can still fix this...

Anxious, his hand found one of the wine bottles in his saddle bag, while his other played with the blue cloth around his neck. .

-

3 days later Y/N lowered himself to the ground and led Lisica inside the stable of Vergen’s only inn, The Cauldron, with bowlegs.

Every muscle in his body ached and the dwarf who had pointed him towards the stables at the outskirts of the city and who he paid for Lisica’s stay, chuckled when he saw the hooded figure stiffly walk into the building.

The stable was made out of stone like all the other buildings in the town and since the sun had yet to set, the lanterns inside weren’t lit and therefore, only few specks of light entered the barn. Not that the darkness was a problem for his eyes.

He rolled his tight shoulders and examined the building. It was quite big with 12 horse boxes made of wooden walls that reached the middle of his torso. Most of them seemed occupied by horses of all sizes and colors.

The witcher led Lisica into the first unoccupied box near the entrance. Next to it was one with a white pony.

The little guy - who most likely belonged to one of the many dwarves in town - looked curiously over the wooden wall and Lisica greeted him with a snort, while her owner took off her bridle. She stretched her neck, and he followed her example and groaned as he stretched his whole body, her bridle still in his left hand. He stepped out after giving Lisica a head pat and hung it on the designated hook outside the door.

Next to the right wall of the box was a saddle stand and a small shelf with some brushes. He made a mental note to use them to reward his mare.

She had been very patient for the last day when they basically rode for 24 hours straight. He would give her a well-deserved massage and make her coat look the shiniest among the horses in the stable.

He was about to step into the box again to get his bags and remove Lisica’s saddle when he noticed a dark brown horse in the box right next to the white pony’s. He could only see the ass of the animal, but it had a scar on its rump that he could recognize easily and relief washed over him like a big wave.

Wendir was here. He had come.

A bit overwhelmed with joy, he quickly entered the box again and rifled through his saddlebags, while ignoring Lisica’s curious headbutts. He found the carrots he had bought from a farmer and gave one to his mare. She gobbled it up while eyeing the other one, but that carrot wasn’t for her.

He temporarily closed the gate to Lisica’s stable and then he walked down the hallway of the barn towards the box with the familiar horse.

In the dim light he saw how Wendir’s mare Katya was dozing while relaxing her right hind leg.

Based on the straw in her fur and some not-fully dried sweat stains, he guessed that his friend still rode like a member of the Wild Hunt and barely arrived before him.

“Hey girl”, he said in a low whisper, and she turned her head.

He held the carrot over the box gate, and it appeared as if she wasn’t interested at first. He frowned.

“Did he urge you like a demon again?”, he asked the horse, remembering the riding lessons he had with his friends, and he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. Katya huffed as if she was agreeing.

Tiredly, she stepped up to the gate and he petted her softly as she ate the carrot.

He was cooing her name, telling her how happy he was to see her, while scratching her head.

If someone saw him, the witcher who stank like a drunkard and looked like someone had used a plow on his face, talking in a high voice, they would probably shake their heads in disbelief and maybe disgust. But he was just too excited.

In maybe half an hour he would explain himself to Wendir and hopefully the other would understand him. His ugly mug would serve as proof and then his friend would help him calm Fenri’s anger and Barmin’s likely disappointment. He could see it before his eyes, and he breathed out as if a big weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

After realizing that he didn’t have more carrots, Katya had enough of his petting, and she walked away from him to return to her former dozing position.

Y/N saw that as a cue to take care of Lisica and returned to her box, where he took off her saddle and put it on the saddle stand. He grabbed one of the brushes and for the next 15 minutes he brushed her and spoke to her in a low voice, while she relaxed and nibbled away on the hay in the corner.

After making sure his mare was comfortable for the night, he grabbed his bags and left the building. It was quite dark now and, in the distance, he could see lights in the houses. 

He was about to slowly follow the stony path to The Cauldron when he heard a snort and when he turned his head, he noticed the small pasture next to the stable. Unlike he had thought before when he entered the stables, there actually was a horse in it.

Something put pressure on his chest.

A few feet away, behind the wooden fence stood an ash grey stallion.

He knew that horse well. He had learned mounted combat on it.

Memories bubbled to the surface, and he felt sick. The sweet aftertaste of Cintrian Faro suddenly tasted foul.

He remembered hours of training and having sore muscles, falling into the dirt, getting kicked after agitating Borsuk too much, hands that helped him out of the saddle, hands that checked him for blisters, hands that had put medicine on the hoof-shaped bruise on his back, hands that he had dreamed about so many times-

Y/N whirled around, his heartbeat thundering loudly in his ears and made one step, two, three- before someone grabbed him by his cloak and dragged him towards the side of the stable.

His attacker hurled him against the stone wall and the impact left him dazed and pain shot through his body from his head to his still healing leg. His collar was seized harshly, the other man basically carried all his weight, and he felt the breath of his assailant on his face.

Y/N didn’t dare open his eyes.  

“You goddamn bloody bastard”, said an agitated voice that he hadn’t heard in almost three years now. His heart quivered and he turned his head away instinctively. His hand let go of his bags in defeat.

Fuck was all he could think at that moment. Bloody fucking hell.

“Look at me, you fucker.”

The witcher breathed out shakily, and then opened his eyes to peer at the other man out of the corner of his vision.

Deglan looked the same as three years ago, besides maybe a few more grey strands in his hair and beard and some wrinkles. His jaw was still framed by a magnificent beard, and his sharp cheekbones combined with his broken nose embodied a handsome roughness. He looked better than ever.

Y/N had a hard time breathing.  

But Deglan’s face was dark, a blazing fury was visible in his yellow eyes and his lips were pulled into a snarl.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment”, growled the older witcher and had he said those words to him in any other moment, Y/N would have felt a sharp tug in his lower body, but due to these circumstances, he only felt panic rising in his chest.

“...S… ‘s good to see you, Deglan...”

At first, he thought that his low murmur was left unnoticed, but his former mentor rose an eyebrow and a second later, he frowned and sniffed the air.

“You smell like shit. How much booze did you drink on your way here? Did you lose your way during the winter and end up in a Brewery instead of Kaer Morhen?”

All of Deglan’s words stung like hell. Fuck, they were a low blow and Y/N winced inwardly. Because as much as it stung, it was halfway true.

He sunk more into himself, and his mentor had to hold him up.

The lack of any reply didn’t seem to sit well with Deglan, so he grabbed him by the chin and roughly turned his head.

“Care to look me in the eye when I speak to y-”

Y/N’s eyes were downcast, and his face was covered in the shadows of his hood, but this didn’t stop the witcher’s eyes from spotting the new ugly scars across his face.

His mentor sucked in some air sharply and he automatically formed his hands into fists. The h/c haired witcher digged his nails into his skin trying to ground himself but this situation was so much worse than any nightmare scenario he had ever imagined, it was of no use.

The grip on his collar left and Y/N’s eyes widened slightly as Deglan’s hand entered his periphery. An absurd fear of getting hit entered his mind, but his mentor did no such thing. 

He touched his cheek, light as a feather and it was so unexpected after his rough handling and talk that Y/N’s limbs turned weak.

His breath quickened automatically as the man he still loved so passionately traced the scar tissue in his face with an unreadable expression.

“...A forktail. It got me good”, he said awkwardly and tried to ignore the growing heat that crept up his neck.

Deglan remained silent, his eyebrows scrunched and with his other hand, he pushed off the hood of Y/N’s cloak to fully reveal the length of his scars, his chipped right ear and his disrupted hairline.

Someone breathed out shakily, Y/N wasn’t sure if it was himself or the other man, but he felt extremely vulnerable and exposed.

This is the worst...

He felt so embarrassed, so ashamed- Talented my ass, if he remembered the last 2 years, he wasn’t exactly the prime example of a good witcher.

Standing in front of Deglan now, he felt inferior.

He hadn’t bathed in weeks, he smelled like a drunkard and was one too. He lost all of his herbs and elixirs, had barely any money left and looked disfigured, and on top of it all, he didn’t even consider the possibility of Wendir’s letter getting into the wrong hands.

Deglan had either forced his friend to read Y/N’s letter to him or his brown-haired friend betrayed him and went to his former mentor by free will. Not so clever, are we…

Anger churned in his chest, but it was overshadowed by the growing black hole that seemed to suck every snippet of hope away from him when he looked at the stony expression of his mentor, the snippets of hope that had begun to burn again after Deglan touched him with such tenderness.

He must be disappointed that his “talented” apprentice let himself get mangled by a monster to such an extent. Why else would he look so stern? There was no other explana-

“Fuck, I worried so much.”

Hands grabbed Y/N’s arms and suddenly there was a weight on his shoulder. Deglan’s head pressed against the thick cloth of his cloak, and he heard him sigh deeply.

His heart pounded loudly in his ear. He blinked. And didn’t react. He stood still as a statue, while his former mentor clung onto him, his fingers digging into the leather armor that covered his wrists. The warmth of the other man was almost unbearable, and Y/N’s breath turned erratic once more.

“L-Let go please”, he croaked, something was blocking his throat.

The older witcher lifted his head and halted. Y/N could practically see how his pupils began to focus on the blue cloth around his throat and had Deglan said something in that moment, he would’ve been unable to hear anything because his heartbeat was thundering so loudly in his chest.

Fuck, oh lord-

“I-“, he began but before he could find the words to formulate the dozen dumb excuses in his mind, Deglan grabbed his head and took his breath away.

The kiss was sloppy and more forceful than anything else, but it ignited the dying fire in Y/N’s hollow chest, and before he could even think about it he found himself leaning into the touch subconsciously.

Their lips parted soon after and he breathed in hastily, feeling light-headed from the lack of oxygen and the fact that Deglan just fucking kissed him.

The younger witcher grabbed his mentor’s upper arms, keeping him at arm’s length away.

“What- what are you doing??” he whispered, staring at the thigh that invaded the space between his legs and his lip quivered as his mind spun from shock.

“Don’t run away anymore, Y/N. You bloody fool.”

He didn’t have time to process these words.

Deglan kissed him again, he pressed his body against his and in the dark of the night, against the cold stone wall of the stable, Y/N fell into the abyss.

His body was going up in flames, every part that Deglan touched started burning and the fire couldn’t be extinguished.

His mentor’s beard scratched his cheeks and his tongue sent shivers down his spine. His left leg was giving out, but it was nonchalantly ignored as the older witcher held him up with his arms and his leg on which Y/N was basically sitting by now.

The friction against his pants was driving him crazy.

Y/N moaned but the sound was silenced by Deglan’s greedy lips, and the two men lost themselves in the fiery heat of the other.

-

Sometime later he recovered and was suddenly he was sitting at a table in the tavern, one of his best friends in front of him while his mentor stared holes into the side of his head from the seat next to him. His bags were tucked under the stool he was currently sitting on.

He didn’t know how he even got there, still dazed from the sudden development. His face flushed as he remembered how his mentor basically devoured his lips and every spot that Deglan’s hands had touched tingled.

“Y/N?” Wendir asked and he blinked to regain his focus.

“Yes?” he croaked; his voice was rough, and he coughed.

Wendir gesticulated at his face, the brown-haired witcher was frowning since the moment he saw his friend’s red rimmed scars and his glossy eyes, as if he had cried just a while ago.

“What happened?”

He opened his mouth to answer but Deglan interrupted him:

“A forktail attacked him.”

Y/N stared at the older man in confusion while Deglan returned his look with a burning gaze. He gulped and turned his head to stare at the wood grain of the table. Because of that he missed Wendir’s raised eyebrow.

“I… I uh was on my way to Hagge when the bastard pounced on me. He surprised me, and I was careless”, he lowered his head and stroke his hair, clenching the other hand into a fist. It wasn’t exactly fun retelling that embarrassing moment again.

He felt totally out of it. All the things he had wanted to tell his friend were lost in the tornado that currently swept through his mind.

Deglan kissed me his brain screamed and between the excitement and the shock he was left dazed and speechless. So, he just told Wendir and Deglan the most important thing he wanted his friend to know:

“I was on my way to Kaer Morhen, you have to believe me.”

He hesitantly looked up at the other two and his gaze met Deglan’s. His mentor looked at him, his yellow eyes filled with something Y/N couldn’t quite fathom. Something flitted across his face and like many times before he wished he could hear what was going on inside his mentor’s head.

“I believe you.”

Wendir cut the moment between them short, but relief trickled through the h/c haired witcher and the tension in his shoulders disappeared. His eyes met his friend’s, and both smiled weakly.

“We know how old scars look on a witcher and yours are still fairly new” said Wendir and he gave their mentor a meaningful look.

Said man remained quiet, his expression was blank, hiding his feelings like a mask and it worried Y/N endlessly. But before he could say anything the inn keeper arrived and placed three jugs of beer down on their table.

“If ye want more, get it yerself, there-” the short man pointed at the barrels lined up at the wall across the tavern. The giant wood barrels were barely visible behind the number of patrons currently inside. “I’ll put it on yer tab. Ask my daughter if you want to pay.” He nodded at a young woman who walked past with some dishes in her hands.

The witchers all expressed their thanks and the inn keeper left, Y/N downed his drink in a few gulps, and then was about to stand up to get another and to momentarily flee but Deglan reached out lightning quick and grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. 

“If I were you, I’d stop drinking so much.”

His mentor’s hand burned like fire on his skin and for a second the h/c haired witcher thought about their moment next to the stables and how much his breath must have smelled, and he ducked his head and nodded slowly. 

Wendir looked at them with a strange expression but when he saw how Deglan watched his friend with eagle eyes after taking his hand back, his own eyes grew big and the corners of his mouth twitched. 

Oh, he saw what was going on. There must have been a reason why his mentor and Y/N had entered the tavern at the same time, the latter clearly dazed as if something life-changing had happened.

“Congratulations”, he said while lifting his jug, an amused smirk dancing on his lips.

Y/N stared at him and mirrored the gesture visibly confused but before he could ask why Wendir congratulated him, the brunette began to talk about his and Deglan’s journey to Vergen. 

The h/c haired witcher barely payed attention, Wendir suffering Deglan’s silence went in one ear and out the other, his head still back at the stable, Deglan’s words echoing in his mind.

“Don’t run away anymore, Y/N.”

Run away? Did this really mean what he was thinking? Was it all a misunderstanding? Did Deglan actually- 

“Okay, okay, that’s enough. Look at him, he’s fucking tired. He is not the only one. We should all go to bed, I already paid for our rooms.” 

Deglan interrupted Wendir’s dramatic retelling with rolling eyes and stood up, his empty jug in one hand, some coins for the payment of their drinks in another. His words interrupted Y/N’s racing thoughts and he felt as if he returned to reality. 

As if...

“Oh, yes, I need to ask for my room.”

“Wait-”

He stood up - his hands taking the bags from underneath his seat - and due to one of the barmaids manouvering herself and 6 jugs between the tables and bodies, Y/N evaded Deglan’s outstretched hand and he hurried to the inn keeper, who had retreated back behind the counter where he was cleaning the used jugs in a skilled fashion.

“I’d like to get a room please and a bath”, he said, a little breathless, rummaging through one of his saddle bags to look for his coin pouch. 

“Not with one of the others, huh? There’s only one room left and it’s connected to the one next to it but ye can lock the door. I’m sure ye take what ye can get. Room plus bath costs 120 a night, another 15 if ye want hot water.”

Y/N didn’t really understand what he meant with his first words but he didn’t think about it too long because he could feel a certain someone stare holes into his back and it messed with his head. 

“Uhh, yes, I’ll take that one. Here-” he handed the man the amount and some additional coins, “make sure the door stays closed. And I’ll take hot water please.”

The inn keeper nodded and then waved at his daughter, who hurried towards them as soon as she spotted her father. 

“Take the lad upstairs and prepare a hot bath in the corner room.”

His daughter, a red-haired, busty young woman, looked him up and down, her eyes visibly frowning when she saw his scarred face, but she said nothing and instead took the key for the room from her father’s hand and then gestured for him to follow her. 

The h/c haired witcher thanked the old man and then quickly followed her to the stairs. A look back showed him that Deglan was still watching him, his yellow eyes were dark and holding something predatory. Wendir behind him only grinned and gave him a little wave. 

The woman led him to the first floor and to the room which was furthest away from the stairs. She unlocked the door and gave him the key without touching his skin.

“Here”, she stated and quickly retracted her hand. “I’ll come back with hot water in a few minutes. It will be fully prepared in about an hour.”

He nodded and quietly whispered his thanks, as her eyes darted everywhere but his face. He bit his lip and then walked into the room, where he placed his bags at the foot of the bed. 

The room was small, there was only space for the bed, a chest in the left corner next to it and next to the door behind a folding screen was a wooden bath tub. 

The door which connected this room to the one next to it, was small, smaller than his height but it seemed to be used regularly as no dust appeared on the door handle. 

The daughter of the inn keeper took a bucket from behind the folding screen and then left him alone in the room, closing the door behind her.

Y/N sighed and sat down on the bed. He rubbed his face with his hands. 

What the hell had just happened in the last 30 minutes? Was he dreaming?

A certain witcher asked himself the same question but due to different reasons.

[focsle]

I think another thing that really makes me feel for all these whaling lads is a particular sort of self consciousness that a number of them seemed to carry over how they fit in with the world and the other people in it. 

“But how shall I describe a whaleman?” Asks Charles Nordhoff in his uncharitable whaling travelogue aimed at dissuading young men from going to sea. “His most marked peculiarity is a certain uncertainty in his gaze, which seems to betoken a lack of self-confidence. He moves along with a spiritless dawdle, which is quite in unison with his general expression of listlessness. He evidently feels but ill at ease in shoes and stockings. He speaks in an undertone, as though not judging it worth while to talk louder. His appearance is thoroughly unprepossessing and calculated to give the impression that he is quite the reverse of ‘smart’. This is the whaleman, ashore.”

This self consciousness of where whalers stand with others and with larger society manifests in their journals across those of all ranks and roles.

Asa Copeland, Captain of the Arab, hailing a clipper ship to ask if they could take home some letters, and worrying about how to assuage the merchant captain should he be “angry that his meditations were interrupted by the captain of a ‘blubber hunter’”.  

William Buel, greenhand on the Wave sharing his anxieties on the first page of his journal of if he’ll be accepted on a whaleship and wanting to know what sort of man the voyage will make of him as he fled a sense of purposelessness ashore, to ultimately die at sea. 

Silliman Ives, steward on the Sunbeam expressing surprise and dismay over a rumor the mate shared with him that Nantucket girls would refuse to dance with “filthy whalemen”.

Mary Brewster, whaling wife on the Tiger being met with her adoptive mother saying that she “would in no way assist” her and that “her house would never be a home [for Mary] again” if Mary proceeded with her plan of joining her husband aboard his ship.

J.T. Langdon, foremast hand on the St Peter thinking that his friends and family had forgotten about him as he hadn’t received any letters for years. Langdon standing over the graves of long-dead fellow whalers on isolated beaches and wondering if anyone even mourned them.

Joseph Dias, first mate of the Ocmulgee closing his voyage with “and all that saved me was a cat. If it hadn’t been for her I don’t know how I should have come out.”

Joseph Gelett, 3rd mate of the ship Brewster writing ‘do they miss me at home do they miss me at home do they miss me’ in a light hand at the top of an otherwise blank page. 

So many asked ‘do they miss me’ ‘do they think of me’ in the margins of their journals, unsure of whether or not their absence was even felt among their family and friends.

Young men of so many different backgrounds and motivations that absolutely created moments of tension and violence, but also bound them together in a specific fraternity that came with the shared identity of ‘whaleman’. Engaged in an occupation unlike any other, living in a self-contained community that for the majority of the time was cut off from the society of others and the surety of the land for years. Whalers gammed with whalers, united in an mutual understanding of a ship so solid in its horrors, its brutal work, in the visceral closeness of sharing the space with so many others for such an extended period, and the strange camaraderie that could also come from those things/despite those things. And this was balanced against the idea that as far as the rest of the world was concerned, they were liminal men. Distant sons and brothers and fathers and friends and lovers who existed but also…didn’t exist, connecting with those left ashore only in the form of a letter written two years prior, or a newspaper report of a ship’s last known location several months old, until they finally DID come home (if they lived to see home). To a place they hadn’t been for three or four years and maybe hadn’t even heard word from over that time. To stumble out of the unique culture of a whaleship and reconcile where they fit ashore again after it all.

I think that’s why I find myself caring so much about them because—at least while at sea—many seemed so uncertain if anyone did.

[woolmasterleel]

Wrote a short little thing about Sophia and Demi.. Had to change some things about their story, such as Demi being unaware that he is a fungus, I felt it worked better for his god complex if he was aware that he was this dangerous fungus (❁´◡`❁)

Anyway!

This takes place a while after Demi is aware of his new state, so he’s a lot calmer and more in tune with human emotions (sort of)! Hope it’s a fun read!

Please ignore any typos, I’m too tired to edit..

-----

  “Quite the peculiar human, she is…“ He hummed, gently stroking his feathered wings, “I will ask her the most pleasant of inquiries, yet receive nothing in response.”

  “M-my apologies Mr. Excleorn, sir… Dr. Synthaelda is…"

  Demiascareous chuckled, “now now, I understand. She is a solitary woman.”

  “Ha… y-yeah…” the worker scurried out the door, leaving Demi alone.

  “Well,” Demi softly brushed his levitating hand across his feathered hair, “how disappointing. Seems as though I am not a fit conversation partner.” He shook his head, spores fluttering gently around him, “no matter, there is always the next visitor.”

  He folded his uppermost set of arms neatly in front of him, staring intensely at the door. Demi waited, form unwavering. Having no concept of time, Demi remained still for hours.

  “Heart rate is 37 bpm, just lower than the average heart rate of a sleeping person. Though, you are hardly human, I suppose that isn’t compatible.”

  Demi jerked his head, swiftly twisting his form around.

  “And now it’s 98 bpm. Interesting.”

  “Haven’t the decency to come in through the main door?” Demi scoffed, irritated by his moment of vulnerability.

  “No.”

  Demi shook his head, turning away.

  “They told me you were in such a good mood a few hours ago. Are you upset that I’m standing above you? Oh, the mighty god of lies is beneath a mere human? The tragedy of it all.”

  “Sophia, don’t be so ridiculous, I am only-“

  “I don’t believe we are on first name basis,” Sophia spat, “listen to me, if your existence wasn’t so incredible, I’d pull the plug on you right now. Lose the attitude.”

  Demi moved to face her again, “I did not ask to be ripped from the Earth. I did not ask to be contained in this form. I did not ask to receive the means to communicate with humans. You and your followers disturbed my peace, yet you expect me to respect you?” He slammed a hand on the platform below him, “I was once deemed the largest threat to mankind. Now what? You’ve imprisoned me in this form, all for your own-“

  “Have you forgotten about the amount of workers you’ve infected here? I owe you no respect whatsoever, yet I do. It’s only fair that you give me the same.”

  Demi straightened his posture, “excuse me?”

  “A fungal sample labeled D3M-1 was obtained from the mounds of mushrooms which covered this place. Its behaviour was immaculate. Seemingly mindless yet extremely intelligent all at once. So fixated on its goal that it hardly needed to think, adapt.” Sophia pulled down on a lever, releasing the massive IVs from Demi’s form, “this specimen was extraordinary. I became obsessed. I spent countless hours studying this fungus, it’s properties, it’s past. This sample, this fungus, was extremely dangerous, able to plant itself in the mind of the living to achieve its goal.”

  Demi tilted his head, “and yet you’d be so foolish enough to tamper with me?”  

“Yes. That’s the life of science. My extensive studies have allowed me to develop an antibody which counteracts your… infectious spores.”

  Demi moved his face closer to Sophia, “that is all fine I suppose, however, explain to me why-”

  “You are still aware of your time as an organism living in the Earth. It just so happened that the sample I took from that cluster was the main source of it all…” Sophia gestured to the orange mushrooms that had begun to climb the walls, “therefore, you are the one who dictates where to spread your… well, you.” She narrowed her eyes at him, “now stop growing mushrooms in this facility. I didn’t pick you so you could make a garden out of this laboratory. ”

  Demi simply started at her for a moment, finally swatting away any extra spores which fluttered around. “You certainly love to interrupt me,” he said.

  “You no longer need to be hooked up to all this machinery,” Sophia hummed, disregarding his statement as she reeled in the IV tubes, “however, if you do leave this facility, do not leave the island. The last thing I need is the higher ups knowing about your existence.”

  “Soph- ah, Dr. Synthaelda… I suppose I should thank you for what you have given me.”

  Sophia sighed, “and now you’re getting soft…”

  “Would you rather I continue to snap at you, then?”

  Sophia rolled her eyes, “you’re only a little less annoying than before,” she moved closer, placing her hands on the railing, “still, I would say this experiment is a resounding success. I sincerely hope you are able to learn more with this new form of existence.” She spun around, stepping towards the exit, “good day to you, Mr. Excleorn.”

  Demi watched her carefully as the door closed, shaking his head once she was out of sight, “I have a feeling she still isn’t too fond of me…” His shoulders dropped, “though... why do I suddenly seem to care?”

~~~

  “Dr. Synthaelda, we have-“

  “Please, not now.”

  “But Doctor, this is an urgent matter, we need you-“

  “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?” Sophia spat, tossing her tools aside to face the worker, “out with it.”

  “Subject D3M-1 is gone.”

  Sophia rolled her eyes, “yes, I told him he was allowed outside for a moment.”

  “N-no, we mean he’s gone, missing, we can’t find him anywhere! There are no traces of the roof being opened, we don’t understand how he could’ve gotten out…”

  “What?”

  “There are no traces of him leaving or breaking out of the facility-“

  Sophia threw off her gloves, grabbing a nearby microphone, “Motherboard, initiate lockdown now and scan the premises for Subject D3M-1.”

  “Attention all personnel. Please be advised there is a lockdown in effect. Subject D3M-1 of containment 0 has escaped, remain in your current location until you are notified that it is safe to move.”

  Sophia sighed, “what an absolute pain,” she turned to the worker, “go to the lounge and stay there, if you happen to see anyone infected, you know the protocol.”

  The worker nodded, “y-yes Doctor!” She then scurried off.

  Sophia turned back to the nearby computer, typing furiously. Her eyes flicked from each screen to the next, studying them closely.

  “There are no traces Subject D3M-1 outside the facility. There are minor detections inside operating room 0-A. Shall I initiate extermination protocol?”

  “No, just keep the doors locked until I get there. Let me know if he moves again.”

  “Very well, Doctor Synthaelda.”

  Sophia removed the large syringe from her hostler, cautiously making her way to the operating room. She placed a hand on the biometric door lock, awaiting for it to open.

  “Seems as though I have some more studying to do,” Sophia said, slowly entering the room with the syringe in hand, “Mr. Excleorn, please explain to me how you, a forty meter tall entity, managed to get into this room and not destroy everything?”

  “Ah, Doctor, would you be willing to lower the syringe first?”

  “No,” Sophia scoffed, “now come out.”

  “Very well… I can assure you that I will not-“

  “Shut your trap and show yourself.”

  Sophia eyed the cabinets which the voice sounded from, keeping her weapon still as a figure slowly peered out from behind.

  “What the fuck.”

  Sophia stomped over to the figure, viciously pointing the needle tip towards his face.

  “Peculiar, isn’t it?”

  Sophia simply started at the now-human man. It was undeniably Demi; his hair mimicked the colours of his head feathers, his eyes gave the same demeaning stare, his voice, while no longer echoing with each word, resembled the more masculine voice of the tall entity. His skin, while far less grey, still resembled dusted stone. The once divine entity now appeared as a simple old man, fragile form wrapped haphazardly in a spare lab coat.

  Sophia’s eyes flicked to the hand he held up in defence, noting the eye shaped marking in his palm. Sighing aggressively sighed, putting away her large syringe, turning away from Demi. “Get up, sit on that operating table,” she demanded, swiftly organizing scalpels. She grabbed a microphone, “Motherboard, lift the lockdown. Notify everyone to avoid operating room 0-A.”

  Sophia tuned out the announcement which followed, focusing only on the tools in front of her. She moved the tray closer to the operating table, where Demi was now sitting, his hands folded neatly in his lap. She stared at him for a moment, then abruptly threw herself into a nearby swivel chair.

  “Before I start dissecting you,” she spat, “tell me how you’ve changed your form.”

  “Ah… you see, I’m not so sure myself.” Demi smiled, “I was hoping you’d find the answer.”

  Sophia sighed, standing back up. Grabbing a pair of scissors, she carefully cut strands of hair from Demi’s head. Without a word, she carried them carefully to the opposite side of the room. After preparing an analyzing solution, she dipped the hair samples, placing them in a machine to finishing the analyzing.

  “Such wonderful technique…” Demi laughed, “you’re very talented.”

  Sophia jerked her head at him, narrowing her eyes, “shut up.”

  Demi dropped his smile, shaking his head, “come now Dr. Synthaelda, I went through all this effort so I could learn more. That is what you wanted, correct?”

  “So you do know how you managed this.”

  Demi, now realizing his slip up, shook his head again, “no no, my apologizes… yes I intended to obtain a human state, however I am unsure as to how it worked…”

  Sophia simply stared at him, “right, sure…” she turned back to the machine, “ah, okay. You don’t have real hair, it’s some form of mycelium, or at least a structure very similar… though it is incredibly strong compared to real mycelium. I’ll have to run more tests.”

  Demi nodded, “I’ll assume my skin isn’t real skin either, then? Perhaps something similar to the skin on those mushrooms? It does make sense given how, at least I would assume, my new state of existence isn’t so different from the little mushrooms I used to sprout.”

  Sophia slowly turned to Demi, confusion in her stare, “now where did you learn to make such a hypothesis? Albeit it is quite a simple one, but still.” She moved closer to him, “you, being a clueless entity in terms of the world of science. You don’t even have a brain… how?”

  Demi grinned, “I just listened to what you had to say. Overtime, I started to piece together what you and the other lab workers have said… it all started making sense.”

  Sophia grabbed his shoulders. For once, her eyes were vacant of anger, replaced with wonder. “Tell me what else you’ve learned.”

  Demi, caught off guard by her sudden closeness, “well… you’ve been measuring my heart rate, however… I wouldn’t have blood, correct? Of course that doesn’t mean I don’t have some sort of blood substitute which would need a pumping mechanism…”

  Sophia stood up, staring beyond Demi.

  “Doctor…?”

  “I… I did it. It worked.” She suddenly held onto Demi’s shoulder’s again, “I was right. I…” her hands began to tremble, her eyes filled with tears.

  Demi, alarmed at her sudden vulnerability, held onto her, “Doctor, what’re you doing…”

  Sophia couldn’t help but laugh slightly, “it’s called crying, Demi,” she stood up, wiping her eyes, “you’ll learn about that and so much more.”

  Demi blinked, his eyes lighting up, “I’m certainly looking forward to it.”

[allthingskenobi]

Obi-Wan in Exile – Vader

(Originally published on AllThingsKenobi.com December 13, 2020)

Welcome to the first in a series of looks into Obi-Wan Kenobi’s time in exile on Tatooine between Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith and Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope. We’ve tried to mine as much Legends and canon material as possible to help guide you through some of the period’s most common and repetitive themes so that when the new Obi-Wan Kenobi series airs, you’ll be ready.

Not everything he ever did in the entire 19 years will be explored here, but as we said, we’ve tried our best to pick out the most prominent and impactful moments to give everyone a better understanding of exactly what one hermit had to endure out there all alone in the sandy deserts of Tatooine.

While Vader himself was not a common reoccurrence throughout Obi-Wan’s exile, the threat of him certainly was…well until now that is. As Vader so often does, he’s recently made his way back to the forefront of the story and will seemingly loom very large over the upcoming series, thus moving us to start with exactly what that might mean for Obi-Wan and how it might work with the canon boundaries we currently have. Yes, we understand that canon can change and probably will, but we do love a challenge.

“Vader,” Obi-Wan muttered. “Vader’s alive.”

DARK LORD: THE RISE OF DARTH VADER BY JAMES LUCENO L

Let’s start at the beginning. We have one instance in Legends where we see Obi-Wan learn that Vader survived Mustafar and it comes mere months after his exile on Tatooine begins. He first hears the name “Vader” mentioned again on the HoloNet during one of his trips into Mos Eisley and nearly faints before panicking to find a way to take Luke and run. (1) This early recognition seems to be reconfirmed in later canon as one of Ben’s greatest fears in the third year of his exile continued to be “sand crunching beneath heavy black boots, a dark cape billowing in the desert squall, the mechanical wheeze of a respirator.” (2) So will we see Obi-Wan only just learning of Vader’s fate in the tenth year of his exile? I’d say that’s highly doubtful unless the show provides a flashback for us—which we will gladly accept.

“Instead, Padmé was dead and Obi-Wan was running for his life, as stripped of everything as Vader was. Without friends, family, purpose…”

DARK LORD: THE RISE OF DARTH VADER BY JAMES LUCENO L

At the same time, Vader was also very convinced that Obi-Wan was still alive and would remain so despite his greatest efforts. Because if there was one thing Vader was good at it, it was holding a grudge like he held a lightsaber, and he would expend quite a bit of energy over the 19 years between episodes III and IV searching for his old Master. (Just ask anyone he comes across in the comics.) Oh, and let’s not forget that it’s also Vader who would later inform a disbelieving Tarkin, in no uncertain terms, that Obi-Wan was still alive and on the Death Star. (3)

“No, I can’t [leave],” Ben said, firmly. “I must be here.”

KENOBI BY JOHN JACKSON MILLER L

“The core of Anakin that resides in Vader grasps that Tatooine is the source of nearly everything that causes him pain. Vader will never set foot on Tatooine, if only out of fear of reawakening Anakin.”

DARK LORD: THE RISE OF DARTH VADER BY JAMES LUCENO L

Now that we’ve established that they both knew of each other’s survival, it begs the question as to why their paths never actually crossed in 19 years. Personally, I think it’s fairly simple: Obi-Wan would never leave Tatooine and Vader would never go anywhere near it. We will discuss Obi-Wan not leaving Tatooine more in-depth at a later time (and yes, we know what Ewan said about having a ‘rollicking time’), but Vader would canonically never visit his home planet until well after Obi-Wan and Luke were both gone. (4)(5) And by then it was much too late.

That brings us to the most recent ‘Obi-Wan Kenobi’ news and how that fits in with what Legends and canon have told us so far. We received a lot of exciting and thought-provoking announcements in a short amount of time, and frankly, our minds haven’t stopped spinning since. Could the show undo what we currently assume to be true? Yes. Could the show work within those same parameters? Also, yes. Do I personally have any idea what’s going to happen? No. DO I THINK THE SHOW IS GOING TO BE AMAZING NO MATTER WHAT? Y E S. The goal of this exercise is to simply try and reconcile the new details to the existing Star Wars lore because I think that’s what makes it interesting. So you can take it or leave it. The choice is yours. (Until it isn’t because the show has aired and this is all pointless.)

HERE WE GO.

“[Deborah] Chow confirmed that audiences will “definitely see Obi-Wan and Darth Vader get into it again” as we see the blue blade of a hooded Obi-Wan clash with the fiery red blade of Darth Vader.”

“McGregor knows the battle will be eagerly anticipated, and he’s looking forward to performing it just as much: “Having another swing at each other might be quite satisfying for everybody. We hope that you enjoy it as much as we’re going to enjoy making it.””

DEBORAH CHOW AND EWAN MCGREGOR DURING THE DISNEY INVESTOR’S REEL

Not only was the “Hayden Christensen returning as Darth Vader” bombshell dropped in our laps, but we were also fed the above morsels (not once but thrice) and told to digest them. Our first reaction was a hearty and well-deserved cry of rejoicing until the realization of what this could all mean set in and it turned into a hearty and well-deserved sob.

There’s hardly a way to be disappointed in the fact that we will see Ewan and Hayden not only together again, but “getting into it” as well, but we do have to wonder what this means for the moment where Obi-Wan and Vader face each other again on the Death Star. The moment is not only pivotal to Episode IV, but I would argue, the entire saga. And it’s made even more impactful by the fact that the two men have not physically confronted each other since their fateful battle on Mustafar.

What we do know, and that which should not change, is that Vader never knew where Obi-Wan was hiding nor that he had Luke, his son, with him. That tells me two things: whatever kind of “rematch” happens here does not endanger Luke’s safety in the long run nor is it probably something that would occur more than once. I think what we’re going to see happen is isolated and “unexpected,” occurring only once ten years into Obi-Wan’s exile.

You: But, All Things Kenobi, if they could never physically meet on Tatooine or elsewhere, then what does this all mean??

Us: Do we look like Deborah Chow or Ewan McGregor? Do we have all the answers for you? NO! But can we try to help ease your mind until the show airs and I’m proven all sorts of wrong?? YES! SO PUT ON THAT TINFOIL HAT AND LET’S DO THIS!!

“I sense something. A presence I’ve not felt since…”

STAR WARS EPISODE IV: A NEW HOPE C

“Obi-Wan once thought as you do.”

STAR WARS EPISODE VI: RETURN OF THE JEDI C

Instantly our minds turned to these two particular comments from Vader in Episodes IV and VI. They’ve always stood out as peculiar, demanding explanation, but even more so now. The first is a vague, open-ended statement that leaves us to assume they hadn’t met again since they parted on the slopes of Mustafar. The second is a seemingly wistful reminiscence of a memory Vader has of his old master.

Luke had just finished making a heartfelt plea for Anakin to remember his “true self” then says, “come with me.” Where did Obi-Wan make the same appeal to only be shunned by Vader as well? Is it possible the series will show us this after all these years and possibly solve the riddle of both enigmatic statements at once? Is it possible that any such conversation might quickly devolve into another lightsaber-fueled clash??

“Count Dooku was Yoda’s apprentice.”

“And Count Dooku has fallen to the dark side.”

“All of us have apprenticed to Master Yoda.”

“He cannot be held accountable for Dooku’s descent.”

“But they are connected. Profoundly.”

THE CLONE WARS 6×11 “VOICES” C

A distinct bond exists between each Padawan and Master and unfortunately that bond does not disappear when one or the other becomes a Sith Lord. Despite the bond between Obi-Wan and Anakin being firmly closed at both ends, there’s no doubt that a presence remains. And even the most sturdy walls might crack from time to time.

Even after 19 years apart, Vader is quick to recognize when Obi-Wan is nearby and goes so far as to know his intent. “Escape is not his plan. I must face him alone.” And he’s right. (3) As for Obi-Wan, the Force has plagued him with dreams and visions, even showing him “a limbless wreck hanging in a bacta tank, necrotic skin pallid and scarred.” (2)

Could their strong connection be the vehicle that allows Obi-Wan and Anakin to confront each other once more? Within the Force they could not only converse, but we could also see them “take another swing” at each other without any physical consequences no matter who “wins.” The mental toll would also make for great drama for both men and bring a new perspective and emotional weight to several scenes in the Original Trilogy.

“If you loved me, Obi-Wan, you would have killed me.”

STAR WARS: DARTH VADER 24 BY KIERON GILLEN C

Finally, it’s quite possible that Obi-Wan might not physically be involved at all in their “rematch” and it might be entirely from Vader’s perspective. One theory could be as simple as the fact that Vader once had a training droid whose deadliest combat setting took the form of his former master. (Oh, Anakin.) (6) Another theory, and a much more likely one, could be that Vader has a Force vision or dream that allows him to recreate and relive various moments between himself and Obi-Wan, including, but not limited to, another lightsaber battle. This would be interesting to witness as every time it occurs, it means that Vader is wrestling with Anakin.

Although the Obi-Wan that continues to exist in Anakin’s psyche doesn’t seem too different from the real thing, just imagine Ewan McGregor getting to play Obi-Wan from Anakin’s point of view…I’ll just drop my mic there.

Star Wars: Darth Vader 24 by Kieron Gillen (2016) C

Star Wars: Darth Vader 5 by Charles Soule (2017) C

Citations:

(1) Dark Lord: The Rise of Darth Vader by James Luceno L

(2) “Time of Death” – From A Certain Point of View by Cavan Scott C

(3) Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope C

(4) Star Wars: Darth Vader 2016 by Kieron Gillen C

(5) Star Wars: Darth Vader 2020 by Greg Pak C

(6) Star Wars: The Force Unleashed (2008) by Haden Blackman L

[nose-bandaid]

love, at its core

hi!! i hope you're havin a good day rn 😊😊 i just saw requests are open??? i was gonna ask if i could request something with yuto?? like his s/o is chillin with him at home and then they just get hit with the realization "omg my boyfriend is just sitting there and i can kiss him any time i want??? all i have to do is ask??? is it really that simple???? what a concept..." i know its very specific but its just smth ive been thinkin about these days?? like people datin can just kiss each other any time???? its just so simple yet so special at the same time??

Yuto x (gender neutral) Reader fluff | 2k words

synopsis: waking up one day, you were hit with a curious thought that made you realize how lucky you were to have a boyfriend

a/n: here you go anon !! i hope that this is what you wanted and that i didn't get carried away with the idea 😅 enjoy<3

ngl this ended up a little similar to -27°C but i love domestic relationships so it's cool

There was something peculiar about living with your boyfriend.

Nothing had changed since yesterday, or last month, or even the year before. You've been living together for a while now and today shouldn't have been any different. It shouldn't.

However, an intriguing thought in your mind constantly nudged you to love him even more today.

When you woke up, the first thing you did was roll over onto your side to study Yuto's face. Even asleep, he was incredibly pretty and you reached a hand to brush the strands of hair that had fallen over his face. He's been growing it for quite a while now, and oftentimes he would tie it all back in a small ponytail that you thought was endearing. But you thought he looked especially fluffy when he let his hair down. The sight of it that morning, however, tickled your own face and you tucked it behind his ear with a small smile.

"Better?" You whispered, not really expecting a reply because you believed he was still asleep. But he did, in fact, whisper a quiet "better" and you locked eyes with him in surprise.

"G'morning." He croaked out, trying to rub the sleep out of his face.

"Good morning Yuto," You replied, laughing when he leaned into your touch and tried to snuggle back to bed. "It's time to wake up, sleepyhead."

He wrapped an arm around you to pull you closer, burying his face into your neck to plant a kiss there. "But there's nothing planned for today." He whined, and it came out more of a question than it did as a complaint.

You wriggled your way out of the hug and poked his cheek. "You promised you'll make breakfast today though!"

That caused him to stir.

Yuto hefted himself into a sitting position with a huff and sent you a lazy grin. "I guess you're right; I can't back out of that."

Leaning in to plant one last kiss on your forehead, he patted your shoulder before standing up. "Just stay in bed for a while longer, love. I'll let you know when breakfast is ready."

You watched him quietly as he changed out of his pyjamas and exited the bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar so that you didn't feel completely alone. Placing a hand on your cheek, you wondered why today, of all days, your heart suddenly decided to skip a beat with every word he said. With every move he made.

It was probably then, that something within you clicked and made you realize that wow, you have a boyfriend.

And you have the privilege of waking up next to him every morning and seeing him smile.

=====

You got out of bed not long after Yuto left the room. The sound of the dishes and sizzling on the stove only made you want to wake up and join him in the kitchen.

When you arrived, Yuto greeted you with a nod towards the coffee brewer, already boiled and ready to serve. On your way to grab a mug, you glanced over his shoulder to see what he was making and sent him an approving smirk.

"Looking good, Yu."

He laughed as you poured yourself a cup of the drink and returned to the table. "Are you talking about me or the food?"

You shrugged. "That's up to you. It could be both, you know."

"Well, you came just in time to eat my beautiful breakfast." He replied and transferred the food onto the plates neatly laid out on the table. His spare hand reached into the drawer behind him to grab the utensils and he handed it over to you. "Time to dig in?"

You puckered your lips slightly as you accepted the food. "Give me a kiss first?"

If the sudden request for affection surprised Yuto, he didn't show it. Instead, he promptly grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in for a quick kiss on the lips. He tasted like the chapstick he always kept with him — a mix of vanilla and strawberries.

"Another, please." You asked when you separated, eliciting another one of his lighthearted laughs.

"Anything for you, love."

The kiss was deeper this time, and you blindly dropped the fork and spoon somewhere on the empty space of the table in order to wrap your arms around his neck. Beyond the sweetness of his lips, you could taste the lingering mix of morning breath and bitter coffee.

"Yuto," You muttered, breaking the kiss. "Have you brushed your teeth yet?"

"That's..." He averted his gaze. "I'll do it later, I promise. Let's just eat breakfast before it gets cold?"

"Okay, okay, you win." You decided, backing off to pull yourself a chair. "Let's test out your chef skills."

The breakfast was delicious and he beamed when you praised his cooking skills. You found yourself settled right beside Yuto, as opposed to your usual seat directly in front of him. With an arm linked into his (which admittedly made eating a little more difficult for both of you), you stayed close to the warmth of his body. Placed in front of you, carefully balanced against the box of tissues was your phone playing a video that you've been wanting to show him for a long time now.

Already knowing what's going to come next, you spent most of the time watching Yuto's face, catching every reaction and comment he made about the video.

It was the mundane things like these that made you appreciate him — or even the concept of dating — even more. Sure, going out on exciting dates, sharing thrilling memories. But being able to see him do the most normal activities while having him by your side? You believed that was the peak of a relationship.

"You have something on your face." Yuto's voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you looked at him in confusion. Before you could register his words, a thumb was already wiping your cheek, clearing you of your mess. "There."

"I love you, you know that?" You blurted out the moment you got over the initial shock.

"And I love you more, you know that?" He cocked his head, mimicking your voice.

You buried your face into your hands, unable to handle his cuteness. "Gosh, you're going to be the death of me."

"I'll make sure to take credit at your funeral, then."

=====

You spent the rest of the day trailing Yuto more than you intended to. But you couldn't help it when everything he did made your heart flutter. It felt like the beginning of your relationship all over again. You were amazed when you realized that you could simply ask him for affection and you would just... receive it?

There really was someone in this world who loved you just as much as you loved them. If you asked for a kiss, Yuto would willingly kiss you — this morning was proof of that. And you knew for a fact, that if you hugged him, he would always hug you back. There was hardly a time where he didn't return the "I love you" when you said it to him. And he never forgets to show you just how much you meant to him.

They were all simple things. Things that you'd normally overlook because they were so normal. But at the same time, they were the things you treasured the most.

This concept of dating... was quite a unique one.

"Yuto~" You called out to the boy who, oddly enough, was just standing in the middle of the room, staring out the window. "Can I have a kiss?"

As much as dating piqued your curiosity, you weren't going to complain about how simple it was at its core.

Without asking any questions, Yuto pecked you softly on the cheek, lingering there for an extra moment. You could feel his lips curl up into a smile before he pulled away.

He turned back to the window and squinted his eyes when the sun shone brightly on his face. "The weather's nice today, kinda makes me want to go on a walk."

"I'll come with you!" You offered readily and he perked up at the idea.

"Is that so? Then I guess that's a good incentive to go on a walk." He hummed.

"Of course I'd come with you!" You argued, following him to the front door and slipping a light coat on. "But on one condition."

"And what's that?"

"Let me hold your hand?"

After his shoes were put on, he quietly held out his hand for you to take, and that was enough of an answer.

======

Later in the evening, the two of you were relaxing on the couch watching a rerun of an old show you've watched far too many times now. But with the comfort of the plot and the way it never failed to make you laugh, neither of you minded.

Yuto let you hug his arm as you played with one of his hands. Like this morning, you found yourself spending more time thinking about him, and the show soon became background noise. You inspected every inch of his hand, placing soft kisses on it once in a while. You thought it was incredible, how every single part of him — both inside and out — could be so beautiful.

"What's up with you today?" He asked playfully when you finally distracted him enough to tear his eyes away from the screen. In the back of your mind, you noticed you were both missing out on one of your favourite scenes. "You've been clingier than usual since morning, did I miss something?"

When you didn't answer right away, Yuto's eyes widened as he suddenly sat straight up. "Wait, I didn't miss something, right?"

You laughed at his reaction and pat his shoulder reassuringly. "There's nothing special happening today, Yu, don't worry. I was just thinking..."

"About?" He relaxed back into the couch and let you pull him into your embrace.

You pondered over how to answer him for a couple of seconds. "About how lucky I am to have you."

"That's it?" He asked, baffled at the simplicity.

"Well, in short, yeah." You hesitantly answered and met his gaze when you felt it burning into you. The look in his eyes was a familiar one; a mix of curiosity and determination as he encouraged you to continue.

"It's normal for me to wake up next to you, and see you go to work, and watch stupid shows together and eat meals together and kiss each other goodnight. I don't normally think twice about all of that. But this morning, I realized that being able to do those things with you is so special and I'm so lucky to have you as my boyfriend."

"You know," He started thoughtfully and laced the hand you were holding into yours, tracing light patterns with his thumb. "I've never thought about it that way until you mentioned it."

"It puts things in a different perspective, doesn't it?"

Yuto's eyes wandered as he spoke. "It does, and it's a nice reminder to appreciate everything that we have right now."

"Exactly!" You agreed, happy that he understood what you were getting at.

"Is this why you've been exploiting my kisses today then?"

You froze. "Uh, maybe?"

"And to think that I was worried about missing something important." He let out a dramatic sigh.

"Listen, this was important okay!"

"I know, I know." He moved your clasped hands onto his lap, pulling you closer to him. "I'm glad you brought it up, it's a nice thing to think about."

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence to focus on the last few minutes of the show, everything long forgotten until the credits rolled across the screen. Yuto shut off the TV once they did, tired of the mindless entertainment and stretched as you spoke up again.

"So... I can still have another kiss though, right?"

He smiled. "Yes, of course, you can."

[itsuki-minamy]

MEMORY STORIES: THE CURTAIN CLOSES, THE CURTAIN OPENS

* Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

Neko stepped into the mansion to shelter from the heavy rain and lightning. There was an atmosphere where ghosts seemed to appear at any moment in a western-style building with a strict and intimidating feeling that you normally wouldn't want to get too close.

However, every time she tried to take shelter from the lightning and the cascading drops on the eaves, the entire area would turn bright yellow, and the shaky night atmosphere was scary, and Neko desperately snuck into the building through the small open bathroom window and she stepped deeper into the mansion.

At first she thought it was an empty house. There weren't many signs of people. However, admitting that a dim light was pouring in from a room on the second floor, she approached softly, speaking and cautiously.

And at that moment, she was called.

"Oh, something strange has come to pick me up from the other world. Are you a cat or a human girl?"

Neko was shocked and stopped. The lady said with an annoyed voice.

"I don't like it. I'm asking a question. Yeah, but hey, that's fine. Just answer."

Succumbing to the power of only those who were used to commanding, Neko stormed into the room.

"Fuwah, you are selfish..."

When she said that...

"Yes. I don't know what you're saying, but you look like Beppin-san. Come on."

As told, Neko obediently approached the lady's voice. Neko was invited by an old woman who got out of bed and looked to be in her eighties. She was wearing a red nightgown, stretched out her back and put her hands on her knees, but she had an oxygen cannula in her nose and an IV drip in her arm. A medical device that Neko did not understand was installed on the side of the bed and digital numbers were displayed.

"Do you understand, Wagahai?"

Neko had been conducting reconnaissance operations the entire time. However, this old woman saw Neko as a "human girl".

The old woman gave a stifled laugh.

"I've always had a keen intuition. It's like building this mansion with that intuition. Besides, I've been almost blind these days. You don't have to fool me with anything extra."

If she looked closely, the old woman's eyes trembled gray. She must have been a terrifying beauty when she was young and she had a clean face. Neko was intrigued and irresistibly asked...

"Grandma, what are you doing here?"

The old woman gave a high-pitched laugh like a witch. She then cleared her throat a little, and after coughing painfully over and over again,

"Greetings. Did you break in? But that's okay. I like being alone but I don't hate clients. What are you doing? That's right. I mean… I'm dying."

She smiled and said that. That was the meeting between Neko and Madame Fuyuko.

Madame Fuyuko seemed to like Neko for some reason.

"Lives here for a while and talks with me."

At those words, she decided to stay at the mansion. Neko who was tired from long trips was also thankful for the fact that she didn't have to hide her identity and she could eat rice three times without worrying about the night dew or being chased by dogs. Also, she could sleep on a futon and take a bath.

Neko spent most of the day in the room where Madame Fuyuko was, leaving her seat and acknowledging when the medical staff and caretakers arrived. And in the process, Madame Fuyuko realized that, as she put it, she really was "dying".

Although she was in a good mood talking to Neko, she would suddenly turn pale and sometimes painfully call the medical staff of the place. By the way, the staff were sometimes in the waiting room on the first floor, but in most cases they only came for regular visits every four hours. As a result, Neko would sometimes hold her hand and cheer her on until medical staff rushed inside.

"I'm going to die in this loving house that my last selfish mother designed herself. Because she made a lot of money for it."

Madame Fuyuko laughed and replied to Neko that she asked if she would go to the hospital.

Madame Fuyuko then told Neko about the various things that she had experienced. She was an actress at one point and wrote a novel. It was starred twice as a movie. The novel had won a famous award that every expert would know. She once ran a tourism company in Bali and was assigned to an international organization as a diplomatic adviser to a certain country. She spoke six languages, was familiar with art, and had a collection of paintings.

"I can't play it anymore, but I really liked the violin."

She said she in a mischievous way.

"In the end, I didn't have any children or husbands, but I got a lot of different types and nicknames. It was fun."

The name Madame Fuyuko seems to be a stage name when she was a fortune teller using her peculiar intuition. It seems to be the one he liked the most.

And when Madame Fuyuko finished telling her memories, one day she suddenly became serious and said to Neko:

"You should go now. Yes. I don't want to get in the way. I'll probably die in a few days. I know. So I don't want you to see it."

Neko had a feeling that one day she would leave, so she obediently accepted it. Still, the tears naturally spilled over. For a short time, she became fond of that proud old woman. Neko asked:

"Aren't you lonely, Grandma?"

Madame Fuyuko laughed.

"I have lived the way I really wanted to. I enjoyed being alone, having fun, being strong and living. I will never forget those days. And the last option is to die alone. Well, the hands of the doctors will be annoying. I will compensate them with money."

And for the first time she strokes Neko's hair.

"Feel proud and free. That is the most important thing to me. Do you understand?"

Neko blew her nose and looked back at her forehead. The old woman had a sweet voice.

"But you're different from me. Okay? Go find something important just for yourself. I'm sure you'll find it one day."

At that moment, Madame Fuyuko coughed violently. When Neko tried to help her in a hurry, she waved her hand with frightening eyes, saying "Come on! Go away!" She turned around slightly like a real cat and jumped out of the room, knowing that this was the last action to respond to Madame Fuyuko's thoughts.

Madame Fuyuko was laughing with her thumbs up.

She finally sent that message, to whom was old enough to be like her granddaughter. The two never met again.

++++++++++

When she was looking at the heavy rain hitting the window pane, she suddenly remembered Madame Fuyuko. The noble and beautiful demeanor that she had. The toughness she was showing when her death was imminent.

And the last piece of advice she received.

"Go find your own important thing."

At that moment, they called her from behind her.

"Neko. It's almost like rice. Today is Kuro's special okonomiyaki."

"I added as many dried bonito toppings as you requested."

Shiro holding chopsticks and a plate and Kuro in an apron was standing there. A big smile spread across Neko's cheeks.

Neko had traveled all the way since then and finally found him.

Things that seem to be important from the bottom of her heart.

[reallifesultanas]

Portrait of Ibrahim I's consorts / I. Ibrahim ágyasainak portréja

I. Ibrahim trónralépésekor örököshiányban szenvedett az Oszmán Birodalom, így igen sürgető volt, hogy mielőbb gyermekeket nemzzen a szultán. Pont emiatt rengeteg ágyast kapott ajándékba, voltak befolyásosabb háttérből érkező ágyasok és voltak egyszerűbbek. Ágyasai közül egyedül Turhan Haticét nem említem ebben a posztban, hiszen róla rendelkezésre áll annyi információ, hogy érdemes legyen különálló portrét készíteni neki. Emellett nem csak az ágyasokról fogok megemlékezni, hanem azoktól a hárem szolgálókról is, akik befolyásra tettek szert Ibrahim uralkodása alatt.

When Ibrahim I ascended the throne, the Ottoman Empire suffered from an inheritance problem, so it was very urgent for the Sultan to produce children as soon as possible. That’s why he received plenty of concubines as a gift. There were concubines from more influential backgrounds, and there were simpler. Of his concubines, I will not mention Turhan Hatice here, because there is so much information about her that she will have a separate portrait. In addition, I will mention not only the concubines but also the harem servants who gained influence during the reign of Ibrahim.

CONSORTS

Saliha Dilaşub (Aşübe) Sultan

The date of her birth is unknown, presumably, all of Ibrahim's concubines were about the same age. In the case of Tuhan Hatice, we know that in 1648 she was in her early twenties, so she may have been born around 1625. This date can be considered realistic for all of Ibrahim’s concubines, including Dilaşub. Her origin is also unknown, some say she was Croatian or Bosnian, but there is no direct evidence to suggest this.

Some historians believe she was Ibrahim’s first concubine and this explains her high salary of 1,300 aspers compared to the others. True that her only child was born in April 1642, several months after Ibrahim's first son, though it is possible that she became Ibrahim's concubine earlier than the mother of the firstborn prince, Turhan, simply she got pregnant later than Turhan. The Haseki rank was certainly given to her only after Turhan (and perhaps even after Muazzez).

Saliha Dilaşub is often described as a simple-hearted woman with restrained nature. Unfortunately, however, we don’t know much about her personality, as we know virtually nothing about her years with Ibrahim; and later we see her only as someone being in events but not being the leader of them. After the death of Sultan Ibrahim I, his son, Mehmed IV ascended the throne, but due to his young age in his place, Kösem Sultan ruled as regent. Due to her conflict with Mehmed's mother, Turhan, Kösem wanted to dethrone the young sultan and put Saliha Dilaşub's son on the throne instead. In the end, however, the rebellion of Kösem was unsuccessful and she was murdered. Saliha Dilaşub was not punished for her passive participation in the events. During Mehmed IV's reign, like Ibrahim's other concubines, she lived in the Old Palace, rarely being able to meet her son.

After 39 years in the Old Palace, in 1687 Mehmed IV was dethroned, and Saliha was able to return as the Valide Sultan once more, for the last time. As a Valide, Saliha established a foundation in Istanbul, and she also did charity, but she did not have time to build much power or start any building project. Her health soon began to deteriorate. She spent her last year in Edirne, lying in bed. Finally, she died on December 4, 1689 (according to others, January 3, 1690). She was buried in the tomb of Suleiman I, and later her son was placed next to her.

Hatice Muazzez Sultan

Hatice Muazzez may have been born around 1625, but neither the exact date nor her origin is known. According to most sources, Hatice Muazzez was Ibrahim’s second Haseki. By August 1642, she surely had the rank of Haseki Sultan, as she was mentioned in the harem registers as the second Haseki. So far, however, Ibrahim has already had two other Hasekis: Turhan Hatice and Saliha Dilaşub. So how can Muazzez be still the second Haseki? Hatice Muazzez’s son, Prince Ahmed, was born in March of the following year. So if Muazzez was indeed the second Haseki, she probably gave birth to another child before Ahmed and was given the Haseki rank after the other baby's birth. In this case, perhaps Turhan was Ibrahim's first Haseki, followed by Muazzez, who was probably giving birth to a girl at the time. It is mathematically possible for Muazzez to give birth to a girl between January and April 1642 and then to Ahmed in March of the following year. Both Gevherhan Sultan and Fatma Sultan were born in 1642, so it is possible that one of them was the daughter of Muazzez. But it could also be that Ibrahim gave Haseki rank to his concubines for no reason at all as we know how troubled his mind was...

We do not know much about the life of Hatice Muazzez during the reign of Ibrahim. With the dethronement and execution of Ibrahim, her life changed forever. Kösem Sultan decided not to send Ibrahim's sons and their mothers to the Old Palace immediately, so Muazzez could live with her son in Topkapi Palace until the assassination of Kösem in 1651. With Kösem's death, Muazzez was separated from her son and she had to move to the Old Palace. She lived practically her whole life in the Old Palace, where she could only meet her son occasionally. Although her son became a sultan in 1691, Muazzez was not able to become a Valide Sultan. In 1687 a huge fire began to spread in the city, which soon reached the Old Palace as well, and although Muazzez and the others had been evacuated, she suffered a heart attack from the shock and died the next day, on 12 September. Muazzez's body was taken to Üsküdar and was buried there. A few months later, Suleiman II distributed Muazzez's jewels among his own concubines, which jewels were taken back from them as soon as Muazzez's son, Ahmed II ascended the throne.

Ayşe, Mahienver and Saçbağlı Sultanas, the forgotten Hasekis

The first mention of Ayşe dates back to January 1645, when she received a separate room. Based on these, she was the fourth Haseki. We don't know if she had any children. Princes Bayezid and Cihanhir were born after January 1645, so if she was given the rank of Haseki because of the birth of a son, perhaps one of these two princes was hers. Beyhan Sultan was also born in 1645, so it cannot be ruled out that she was related to Ayşe. We know nothing about the rest of Ayşe's life.

Mahienver is mentioned in the harem registers on May 2, 1646, by the name of the "Fifth Haseki Mahienver Sultan", so she was Ibrahim's fifth Haseki. We don't know if she had any children. Prince Bayezid was born on May 1, so it is possible that Mahienver was his mother, we cannot be sure though. Ibrahim usually gave the Haseki rank even before the birth of the children and not after. Especially since there is no evidence that Mahienver had children for sure. We know nothing about the rest of Mahienver's life.

Saçbağlı is considered to be the sixth Haseki of Ibrahim, but we do not know when her Haseki-period started and if any children were born to her or not. No information is available about her life, only that Ibrahim once donated the incomes of Egypt to her.

Şivekar Sultan

Şivekar was the seventh Haseki of Ibrahim, who found herself in the harem among rather special circumstances. One of Ibrahim’s peculiar perversions was that he wanted to find the fattest woman in the empire. His call to look for the fattest woman pervaded the entire empire. In the end, Şivekar met Ibrahim's taste, as some said she weighed 150 kg, others said it was an exaggeration. Şivekar was a woman of Armenian descent who was added to the harem between 1646 and 1647 based on the fact that she was the seventh Haseki. Thanks to her flirtation, Ibrahim soon locked her in his heart.

It is not known whether any children were born, but it is certain that she had a rather significant political influence compared to the other Hasekis. For a time, Ibrahim became so embroiled with Şivekar that he received no one but this woman. After such, it is not surprising that Şivekar took advantage of the situation and sought political influence. She also used her influence in charity as he had a foundation. After the dethronement of Ibrahim, she moved to the Old Palace and lived there until her death in 1693. It seems she lived the longest life among Ibrahim's Hasekies.

Telli Hümaşah Sultan

She is considered to be the youngest of Ibrahim's concubines. She entered the harem in 1647, where she immediately caught the attention of Ibrahim. The sultan completely fell for her and gave her incredible fortune; gave her the residence of the Valide Sultan; forced his own sisters to serve Hümaşah; Ibrahimeven married her and gave her a huge palace and additional extreme sums of money as a wedding gift. Many consider Hümaşah to be an evil woman (while others say she was caring), perhaps because Ibrahim's sisters were put into her service. However, it is by no means certain that Hümaşah asked for it or wanted it at all. Most sources agree that Hümaşah was a particularly intelligent woman who was well able to influence Ibrahim.

In September 1648 she gave birth to her only child, Prince Orhan. By this time Ibrahim had been dethroned and executed. It is not known whether Prince Orhan was immediately separated from her or given his age he could stay along Hümaşah. In any case, Prince Orhan died at the age of just six months. The relationship between Hümaşah and the reigning valides (Kösem and Turhan) was certainly not good, for while Ibrahim's other concubines could live in peace in the Old Palace, Hümaşah was soon married off. We don't know anything about her life after.

Daughter of Şeyhülislam Muid Ahmed Efendi

Ibrahim wanted to marry the girl, but her father did not allow it. In response, Ibrahim abducted the girl from a bath. Some say he raped her, others say he didn’t. Either way, he eventually sent the girl back to his father soon after.

SERVANTS

Hubyar Hatun

Hubyar was in Ibrahim's favor for a time, able to get huge sums of money. There are two theories about her origin, some say she was the sister-in-law of the Grand Vizier Ahmed Pasha, others say she was a simple harem servant. In addition to Huyar, a woman named Yahudi Hatun is also often mentioned, who has also gained great power, but we know nothing more about her.

Şekerpare Hatun (Şehsüvar Usta)

Şekerpare was a very influential harem servant, she was the chief treasurer who could easily influence the sultan with her sweet manner. Şekerpare was married, so it is unlikely that there was a sexual relationship between Ibrahim and her. Her husband Kara Musa Pasha was able to rise higher and higher in the ranks thanks to her influence: first he became a Janissary commander, later a vizier and a defterdar. The age of Şekerpare is unknown, but given that she held the rank of chief treasurer, was married, and worked with Kösem Sultan for a long time in the harem, it is likely that she was closer to Kösem in age than to Ibrahim.

The former assumption is also supported by the fact that Şekerpare regularly visited public baths to look for women according to the sultan's taste. On one such occasion, Ibrahim ordered Şekerpare to take one of Murad IV's former concubines to him. However, the concubine rejected this and begged Şekerpare to help her. Şekerpare's agreed and she told Ibrahim that she could not bring the girl to him. However, Ibrahim was adamant, and eventually Şekerpare, according to legend, threatened the sultan with a dagger to stay away from the girl. Ibrahim, of course, replied, throwing her into the dungeon. When Kösem heard what happened, she took Şekerpare's side and she also scolded Ibrahim, thus Şekerpare was able to get out of prison.

As if nothing had happened, Şekerpare continued to be Ibrahim's favorite and sought out for women in public baths and she pursued her own affairs and gained more and more wealth. Over time, Kösem was also disturbed by Şekerpare's influence, and when she provided evidence to the sultan about the woman's corrupt affairs, Şekerpare and her husband were exiled to Egypt in 1648. In addition to Şekerpare and her husband, the exile also affected all those close to them. One such woman, Hamide Hatun successfully escaped the exile. She paid one of her servants to act as she is Hamide while she (the real Hamide) escaped. Şekerpare's life is uncertain after the exile. In 1649 she disappeared from the records forever, which is why we presumed her dead. Although Şekerpare had a türbe made for herself in Istanbul, it was sold when she was exiled.

Zafire Hatun

Zafire was a slave of Georgian descent bought by the chief black eunuch, Sümbül Agha, at the slave market. Legend has it that it turned out a few months later that the woman, although sold as a virgin, was certainly raped by the slave traders as she was pregnant. Sümbül Agha decided to raise the child as his own, as he would never have had a child of his own. Zafire had just given birth to her son, Osman, when the palace began to look for wet-nurses as Ibrahim's firstborn son soon born. Sümbül Agha recommended Zafire and so she became Mehmed IV's wet-nurse. However, the mad Ibrahim soon decided that he certainly liked Osman more than his own son, Mehmed, so he began to treat him as his own. This eventually degenerated to the point where the mother of Prince Mehmed and Ibrahim openly confronted.

Others believe Zafire was a servant of Ibrahim at the time of his confinement and Ibrahim impregnated the woman there. Legends have it that when Kösem Sultan heard of this, he instructed Sümbül Agha to throw the woman into the sea. However, the eunuch secretly took the woman to his own house, where she then gave birth to Ibrahim's child. However, this variation is unlikely.

Soon Zafire and her son, accompanied by the chief black eunuch, Sümbül Agha, and many other people, crossed the Mediterranean on a boat. Some say they went to Egypt because they were exiled by the Kösem Sultan; others say there was no exile, they went on a pilgrimage to Mecca. Eventually, however, they were unable to arrive at any of the places, as Maltese pirates struck them, killed the chief eunuchs and other men on the ship, and enslaved the women and children. When they learned that Zafire and her son were very precious to the sultan, they took them to Malta, where they raised a priest from the boy. Eventually, the attack on this ship caused the decades-long Ottoman-Venetian war. Not knowing what happened to Zafire after.

Wife of Hezarpare Ahmed Pasha

Ibrahim abducted this woman (according to others, the pasha gave her by his free will) and she became his favorite for some time. Later, she became the governess of the motherless Beyhan Sultan. We don't know more about her.

Used sources: A. D. Alderson - The Structure of the Ottoman Dynasty; L. Peirce - The Imperial Harem: Women and Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire; N. Sakaoğlu - Bu Mülkün Kadın Sultanları; M. Ç. Uluçay - Padişahların Kadınları ve Kızları; C. Finkel - Osman's Dream: The Story of the Ottoman Empire; G. Börekçi - Factions and favourites at the courts of Sultan Ahmed I (r. 1603-17) and his immediate predecessors; S. Faroqhi - The Ottoman Empire and the World; C. Imber - The Ottoman Empire 1300-1650; G. Piterberg - An Ottoman Tragedy, History and Historiography at Play; F. Suraiya - The Cambridge History of Turkey, The Later Ottoman Empire, 1603–1839; Howard - A History of the Ottoman Empire; Öztuna - Devletler ve Hanedanlar; F. Davis - The Palace of Topkapi in Istanbul; Y. Öztuna - Genç Osman ve IV. Murad; G. Junne - The black eunuchs of the Ottoman Empire; R. Dankoff - An Ottoman Mentality: The World of Evliya Çelebi; R. Murphey - ‘The Functioning of the Ottoman Army under Murad IV (1623–1639/1032–1049):Key to Understanding of the Relationship Between Center and Periphery; M. Özgüleş - The women who built the Ottoman Empire: Female Patronage and the Architectural Legacy of Gülnüş Sultan

*    *    *

ÁGYASOK

Saliha Dilaşub (Aşübe) Sultan

Születési ideje ismeretlen, felthetőleg Ibrahim összes ágyasa nagyjából egy korú volt. Tuhan Hatice esetében tudjuk, hogy 1648-ban húszas évei elején járt, így körülbelül 1625-ben születhetett. Ez az időpont tekinthető reálisnak Ibrahim minden ágyasára, így Dilaşubra is. Származása is kérdéses, egyesek szerint horvát vagy bosnyák volt, ám nincs erre utaló közvetlen bizonyíték.

Néhány történész úgy véli ő volt Ibrahim első ágyasa és ezzel magyarázható a többiekhez képest magas, 1300 asperes fizetése. Bár egyetlen gyermeke, 1642 áprilisában született, több hónappal Ibrahim első fia után, lehetséges, hogy korábban Ibrahim ágyasa lett, mint az első szülött herceg anyja, Turhan, egyszerűen csak később esett teherbe. Haszeki rangot viszont minden bizonnyal csak Turhan (és talán Muazzez) után kapott.

Saliha Dilaşubot gyakran jellemzik egyszerű, meghunyászkodó természetű nőként. Sajnos azonban nem tudunk sokat személyiségéről, hiszen Ibrahim mellett töltött éveiből gyakorlatilag semmit nem tudunk róla; később pedig csak események elszevedőjeként látjuk, nem konkrét karakterként. Ibrahim szultán halála után IV. Mehmed került trónra, helyette pedig Köszem szultána uralkodott régensként. Köszem egyre többször került összeütközésbe Mehmed anyjával, Turhannal, emiatt trónfosztani akarta az ifjú szultánt és helyette Saliha Dilaşub fiát a trónra ültetni. Végül azonban Köszem lázadása nem járt sikerrel és meggyilkolták. Saliha Dilaşubot nem büntették meg az eseményekben való passzív részvétele miatt. IV. Mehmed uralkodása alatt Ibrahim többi ágyasához hasonlóan ő is a Régi Palotában élt, fiával csak ritkán találkozhatott.

39 év senyvedés után a Régi Palotában, 1687-ben IV. Mehmedet trónfosztották, Saliha pedig Valide szultánaként visszatérhetett még egyszer, utoljára. Valideként Saliha alapítványt hozott létre Isztambulban, jótékonykodott is, azonban nem volt ideje nagy hatalmat kiépíteni. Egészsége hamarosan romlani kezdett. Utolsó évét Edirnében töltötte, ágyban fekve, végül 1689 december 4-én (mások szerint 1690 január 3-án) elhunyt. I. Szulejmán türbéjében temették el, később fiát is mellé helyezték.

Hatice Muazzez Sultan

Hatice Muazzez 1625 körül születhetett ám sem a pontos dátum, sem származása nem ismert. Legtöbb forrás szerint Hatice Muazzez volt Ibrahim második Haszekije. 1642 augusztusában már biztosan Haszeki rangot viselt, ekkor említik ugyanis először a hárem jegyzőkönyvek. Eddigre azonban Ibrahimnak már volt két másik Haszekije Turhan Hatice és Saliha Dilaşub. Ez a dátum azért is érdekes, mert Hatice Muazzez fia, Ahmed herceg csak következő év márciusában jött világra. Így amennyiben valóban Muazzez volt a második Haszeki, valószínűleg Ahmed előtt már életet adott egy másik gyermeknek és az ő születése után kapta a rangot. Ezesetben talán Turhan volt az első ágyasa Ibrahimnak, majd őt követte Muazzez, aki valószínűleg lányt szült ekkor. Matematikailag lehetséges, hogy Muazzez 1642 januárjában életet adjon egy kislánynak, majd jövő év márciusában Ahmednek. Gevherhan szultána és Fatma szultána is 1642-ben született, így lehetséges, hogy egyiküknek Muazzez volt az édesanyja. De az is lehet, Ibrahim teljesen random, ok nélkül adta a Haszeki rangot ágyasainak.

Hatice Muazzez életéről Ibrahim uralkodása alatt nem sokat tudunk. Ibrahim trónfosztásával majd kivégzésével élete örökre megváltozott. Köszem szultána úgy döntött, nem küldi el Ibrahim fiat és anyjukat a Régi Palotába, így Muazzez egészen Köszem 1651-es meggyilkolásáig fiával élhetett a Topkapi Palotában. Köszem halálával azonban elválasztották fiától és a Régi Palotába kellett költöznie. Gyakorlatilag egész életét a Régi Palotában élte le, fiával csak alkalomadtán találkozhatott. Bár fiából 1691-ben szultán lett, Muazzez nem érte meg a napot, így sohasem lehetett belőle Valide Sultan. 1687-ben hatalmas tűz kezdett terjedni a városban, ami hamarosan elérte a Régi Palotát is és bár Muazzezt és a többieket is sikerült kimenekíteni, a sokktól szívrohamot kapott és néhány nappal később, szeptember 12-én elhunyt. Muazzez testét Üsküdarba vitték és ott temették el. Ékszereit II. Szulejmán néhány hónappal később saját ágyasai között osztotta szét, melyeket II. Ahmed trónralépése után azonnal visszavett.

Ayşe, Mahienver és Saçbağlı szultánák, avagy az elfeledett Haszekik

Ayşe első említése 1645 januárjából származik, amikoris külön szobát kapott. Ezek alapján ő volt a negyedik Haszeki. Nem tudni, hogy volt e gyermeke és kik voltak azok. Bayezid és Cihanhir hercegek születtek 1645 januárja után, tehát ha egy fiú születése miatt kapott Haszeki rangot, talán közülük volt valakinek az édesanyja. Beyhan szultána is 1645-ben született, így az sem zárható ki, hogy ő állt kapcsolatban Ayşével. Ayşe további életéről nem tudunk semmit.

Mahienvert 1646 május 2-án említik előszöt a hárem jegyzőkönyvek, ötödik Haszeki Mahienver szultána névvel, tehát ő volt Ibrahim ötödik Haszekije. Nem tudni, hogy volt e gyermek vagy sem. Bayezid herceg május 1-én született, így nem kizárt, hogy Mahienver volt az anyja, nem vehetjük biztosra. Különösen úgy, hogy nincs arra utaló bizonyíték, hogy Mahienvernek voltak gyermekei. Mahienver további életéről nem tudunk semmit.

Saçbağlıt tartják Ibrahim hatodik Haszekijének, azt azonban nem tudjuk mikor lett Haszeki és születtek e gyermekei. Életőről semmilyen információ nem áll rendelkezésre, csupán annyi, hogy egyszer Egyiptom bevételét Ibrahim nekiajándékozta.

Şivekar Sultan

Şivekar volt Ibrahim hetedik Haszekije, aki meglehetősen különleges körülmények között került a hárembe. Ibrahim egyik különös perveziója az volt, hogy meg akarta találni a birodalom legkövérebb nőjét és saját asszonyává kívánta tenni. Az egész birodalmat bejárta felhívása, miszerint a legkövérebb nőt keresi. Végül Şivekar felelt meg Ibrahim ízlésének, egyesek szerint 150 kg-ot nyomott, mások szerint ez azért túlzás. Şivekar örmény származású nő volt, aki 1646 és 1647 között kerülhetett a hárembe. Kacérságának köszönhetően Ibrahim hamarosan a szívébe zárta.

Nem tudni, hogy születtek e gyermekei, az azonban bizonyos, hogy a többi haszekihez képest meglehetősen jelentős politikai befolyással bírt. Ibrahim egy ideig annyira belehabarodott Sivekarba, hogy senki mást nem fogadott, csak a nővel töltötte minden idejét. Ezekután nem meglepő, ha Şivekar kihasználta a helyzetet és politikai befolyásra törekedett. Befolyását aszonban jótékony célokra is fordította, ugyanis volt egy alapítványa. Ibrahim trónfosztása után a Régi Palotába költözött és ott élt 1693-es haláláig.

Telli Hümaşah Sultan

Úgy tartják ő volt Ibrahim ágyasai közt a legfiatalabbnak. 1647-ben került a hárembe, ahol azonnal felkeltette Ibrahim figyelmét. A szultán teljesen belehabarodott az ágyasba és hihetetlen vagyont ruházott rá, neki adta a Valide szultána lakrészét, saját édestestvéreit kényszerítette, hogy szolgálják Telli Hümaşaht; sőt feleségül is vette, nászajándékba pedig egy hatalmas palotát és további extrém pénzösszegeket kapott. Sokan számító, gonosz nőnek tartják Hümaşaht, talán azért, amiért szolgálatába állították Ibrahim nővéreit. Azonban egyáltalán nem biztos, hogy Hümaşah kérte vagy egyáltalán akarta ezt. Abban a legtöbb forrás egyet ért, hogy Hümaşah különösen intelligens nő volt, aki jól tudta befolyásolni Ibrahimot.

1648 szeptemberében adott életet egyetlen gyermekének, Orhan hercegnek. Ekkorra Ibrahimot már megfosztották trónjától és kivégezték. Nem tudni, hogy Orhan herceget azonnal elválasztották tőle vagy korára való tekintettel vele maradhatott. Mindenesetre Orhan herceg alig hat hónapos korában elhunyt. Hümaşah és a regnáló validék (Köszem és Turhan) között bizonyára nem volt felhőtlen a viszony, hiszen míg Ibrahim többi ágyasa békében élhetett a Régi Palotában, Hümaşaht hamarosan kiházasították. Életéről innen nem tudunk semmit.

Şeyhülislam Muid Ahmed Efendi lánya

Ibrahim feleségül akarta venni a lányt, azonban az apja ezt nem engedélyezte. Ibrahim válaszul elraboltatta a lányt egy nyilávnos fürdőből. Egyesek szerint megbecstelenítette, mások szerint nem. Akárhogy is, végül visszaküldte apjához a lányt.

SZOLGÁLÓK

Hubyar Hatun

Hubyar egy ideig Ibrahim kegyeiben volt, hatalmas összegeket tudott zsebre tenni. Származására két teória van, egyesek szerint a nagyvezír Ahmed Pasa sógornője volt, mások szerint egyszerű háremszolgáló. Huyar mellett gyakran említenek egy Yahudi Hatun nevű nőt is, aki szintén nagy hatalomra tett szert, ám nem tudunk róla mást.

Şekerpare Hatun (Şehsüvar Usta)

Şekerpare egy igen befolyásos hárem szolgáló volt, ő volt a főkincstárnok, aki negédes modorával könnyűszerrel tudta befolyásolni a szultánt. Şekerpare férjnél volt, így nem valószínű, hogy Ibrahim és közte szexuális kapcsolat állt volna fenn. Férje Kara Musa Pasa a nő befolyásának köszönhetően tudott egyre magasabbra emelkedni a ranglétrán: először janicsár parancsnok lett, később vezír és defterdár. Şekerpare kora nem ismert, ám tekintettel arra, hogy főkincstárnoki rangot viselt, férjnél volt és Köszem szultánával jóideje együtt dolgoztak a háremben, valószínű, hogy korban inkább állt közel Köszemhez, mint Ibrahimhoz.

Az előbbi feltételezést támasztja alá az is, hogy Şekerpare rendszeresen járta a nyilvános fürdőket, hogy ott a szultán ízlésének megfelelő nőket keressen. Egy ilyen alkalommal Ibrahim megparancsolta Şekerparének, hogy IV. Murad egyik korábbi ágyasát vigye el hozzá. Az ágyas azonban ezt elutasította és könyörgött Şekerparének, hogy segítsen neki. Şekerpare szíve megesett a nőn és közölte Ibrahimmal, hogy nem viheti elé a lányt. Ibrahim azonban hajthatatlan volt, végül aztán Şekerpare a legendák szerint egy késsel fenyegette meg a szultánt. Erre természetesen Ibrahim is válaszolt, tölöcbe vetette a nőt. Amikor a történtek Köszem fülébe jutottak, Şekerpare pártját fogta és ő is megszidta Ibrahimot, Şekerpare pedig kijöhetett a börtönből.

Mintha mi sem történt volna, Şekerpare a továbbiakban is Ibrahim kegyeltje volt és nőket keresett neki a nyilvános fürdőkben, folytatta saját ügyeit és egyre nagyobb vagyonre tett szert. Idővel Köszemet is zavarni kezdte Şekerpare befolyása, majd mikor bizonyítékokat juttatott el a szultánhoz a nő korrupt ügyeiről, Şekerparét férjével együtt Egyiptomba száműzték 1648-ban. A száműzetés Şekerpare és férje mellett összes hozájuk közeli személyt is érintette. Egyik ilyen nő, Hamide Hatun volt, aki sikerrel úszta meg a száműzetést. Egyik szolgálóját fizette le, hogy adja ki magát Hamidének, míg ő megszökik. Şekerpare élete száműzetése után bizonytalan. 1649-ben örökre eltűnik a nyilvántartásokból, emiatt azt feltételezik, hogy elhunyt. Şekerpare bár készíttetett magának egy türbét Isztambulban, ezt száműzetésekor eladták.

Zafire Hatun

Zafire egy grúz származású rabszolga volt, akit a fő fekete eunuch, Szümbül Aga vásárolt meg a rabszolga piacon. A legendák szerint néhány hónappal később derült ki, hogy a nő bár szűzként került eladásra, minden bizonnyal megbecstelenítették a rabszolgakereskedők. Szümbül Aga úgy döntött, a gyermeket sajátjaként fogja felnevelni, hiszen neki magától sosem lehetett volna gyermeke. Zafire épphogy életet adott fiának, Oszmánnak, a palotába elkezdtek szoptatósdajkát keresni, hiszen Ibrahim elsőszülött fia hamarosan világrajött. Szümbül Aga beajánlotta a nőt és így ő lett IV. Mehmed szoptatósdajkája. Az őrült Ibrahim szultán azonban hamarosan úgy döntött, hogy neki bizony Oszmán jobban tetszik, mint a saját fia, Mehmed, ezért őt kezdte el sajátjaként kezelni. Ez végül odáig fajult, hogy Ibrahim és Mehmed herceg édesanyja nyíltan konfrontálódott.

Mások úgy tartják, Zafire Ibrahim szolgálója volt elzárása idején és Ibrahim ott ejtette teherbe a nőt. Mikor Köszem szultána ezt megtudta, Szümbül Agára bízta, hogy a nőt vessea tengerbe. Az eunuch azonban titokban saját házába vitette a nőt, ahol aztán életet adott Ibrahim gyermekének. Ez a variáció azonban nem valószínű.

Hamarosan Zafire és fia a fő fekete eunuch, Szümbül Aga és sok más ember kíséretében egy hajón szelte a Földközi-tengert. Egyesek szerint Egyiptomba tartottak, hiszen Köszem szultána száműzte őket; mások szerint szó sem volt száműzetésről, zarándokútra igyekeztek Mekkába és Medinába. Végül azonban egyik helyre sem érkezhettek meg, ugyanis máltai kalózok lecsaptak rájuk, a fő eunuchok és a hajón található többi férfit meggyilkolták, a nőket és gyermekeket rabszolgasorba taszították. Mikor megtudták, hogy Zafire és fia igen becsesek a szultán számára őket Máltára vitték, ahol papot neveltek a fiúból. Végül ezen hajó megtámadása okozta az évtizedeken át tartó oszmán-velencei háborút. Nem tudni, hogy Zafirével mi történt.

Hezarpare Ahmed Pasa felesége

Ibrahim elrabolta a nőt (mások szerint a pasa adta neki) és egy ideig kegyeltjeként viselkedett vele. Később az elanyátlanodott Beyhan szultána nevelőnőjévé vált. Többet nem tudunk róla.

Felhasznált források: A. D. Alderson - The Structure of the Ottoman Dynasty; L. Peirce - The Imperial Harem: Women and Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire; N. Sakaoğlu - Bu Mülkün Kadın Sultanları; M. Ç. Uluçay - Padişahların Kadınları ve Kızları; C. Finkel - Osman's Dream: The Story of the Ottoman Empire; G. Börekçi - Factions and favourites at the courts of Sultan Ahmed I (r. 1603-17) and his immediate predecessors; S. Faroqhi - The Ottoman Empire and the World; C. Imber - The Ottoman Empire 1300-1650; G. Piterberg - An Ottoman Tragedy, History and Historiography at Play; F. Suraiya - The Cambridge History of Turkey, The Later Ottoman Empire, 1603–1839; Howard - A History of the Ottoman Empire; Öztuna - Devletler ve Hanedanlar; F. Davis - The Palace of Topkapi in Istanbul; Y. Öztuna - Genç Osman ve IV. Murad; G. Junne - The black eunuchs of the Ottoman Empire; R. Dankoff - An Ottoman Mentality: The World of Evliya Çelebi; R. Murphey - ‘The Functioning of the Ottoman Army under Murad IV (1623–1639/1032–1049):Key to Understanding of the Relationship Between Center and Periphery; M. Özgüleş - The women who built the Ottoman Empire: Female Patronage and the Architectural Legacy of Gülnüş Sultan

[whats-rambled-rambled]

TA, dr and other abbreviations

Neil x Reader

summary: some time ago, Neil was a TA at your uni, now you meet up again when he needs your help with his next mission

+ song: Chase Atlantic - Friends

warnings: language, alcohol mention, things get steamy so let’s say 18+

author’s note: that request was fun! 👀 I’ve enjoyed the dynamic between those two, so I decided to try something different in terms of the writing style. 

This is also the first one-shot not related to Stuck in Reverse series, can you believe?

Let me know what you think!

___

Your eyes dart towards your lab’s door, your brows raise at the sight of a familiar face. Your day just got a whole lot better.

“Good afternoon, I’m looking for doctor-...” a man at the door glances at you and he skips a beat, clearly trying to remember where does he know you from.

You don’t feel like helping him to figure it out though. To be fair, you’ve changed quite a lot over those last 10 years. You smile to yourself as you think about your younger self, always so anxious and flustered in Neil’s presence. If only she could see you now. She would appreciate the glow-up, that’s for sure.

God, you used to have the biggest crush on him. Not that he knew about it, of course. He was 8 years older than you, also he was a TA during your uni time. You talked sometimes, but that was all, you knew he was seeing someone back then; you settled down for daydreaming about his blue eyes and dying a bit inside whenever you saw him.

And now he’s here, still as hot and gorgeous as ever.

You put on your most polite expression, fighting the smug grin from appearing on your face.

“While I kinda enjoy seeing your puzzled face, I’m also quite busy, so I'm gonna give you a tip – your little TA gig a few years ago.”

Neil’s gaze flares up as he looks you up and down, still a bit confused, trying to match the image he remembers to your present look. 

He blinks twice, composes himself, and proceeds with his request for your aid.

When he leans over your desk and shows you the mission’s brief on his tablet, you notice that he wears the same cologne as he used to all those years ago. Your heart flutters in your chest, but definitely not in that old, nervous way. You chew on your bottom lip, trying to stay focused on Neil’s words. You must admit, the sudden change in dynamic is thrilling. As you help him go through some of the details regarding his next assignment, you wonder if you’re gonna see him more frequently from now on.

You certainly wouldn’t mind.

This time, the Universe smiles upon you.

Neil pops into your lab more and more often. 

At first, it’s all related to work. 

After some time, you begin to wonder if he doesn’t look for just any excuse to come over. You don’t care though, you really enjoy his company. 

And it seems like Neil’s grown quite fond of you himself. 

Now that he’s finally wrapped his mind around the new you, his blue eyes always light up in your presence. You don’t even realize the exact moment when his usual charming demeanor becomes straight up flirtatious. 

But when you notice that change, oh my, the game is on.

Well, he still keeps it all professional, of course. 

It’s the little things. That slight change of posture. The accidental brush of his fingers on your hand when he passes you things. Or that light touch on your shoulder when you both lean over the desk and go through some papers needed for his missions. 

The intense stare right into your eyes, with a corner of his lips twitched in a half-smile. 

But you can give as good as you get. 

The way you tilt your head and expose your neck when he’s standing close. Taking that little extra step in his direction when you talk, stopping at the verge of his personal space as you watch him hold his breath for a second. A bit of playful teasing, sometimes involving light tugs at his tie.

And that last thing always ends up with Neil almost forgetting the tongue in his mouth. Almost. 

...Sometimes you ask yourself if you’re not having too much fun when he’s around. You’re at work, after all.

It’s one of those evenings. You should’ve gone home a long time ago, instead, you’re hanging out with Neil, talking about everything and nothing in particular.

Your phone beeps. You read a short message and you muse over it for a moment. You know that your companion is gonna leave soon, late-night mission or whatever; the suggestion to blow off steam you’ve received sounds like just what you need. 

You meet Neil’s curious look and you realize you’ve let a sly grin appear on your face.

You shrug.

“A booty call,” you say in the most casual tone.

A hint of satisfaction flashes in your eyes when you watch Neil’s very conflicted expression. You bite your lip to stifle a giggle. He’s adorable.

He crosses his arms, the corners of his mouth curl.

“Does that happen often?”

“Oh darling, a lady never kisses and tells. Why, do you want in on the list?” you tease, narrowing your eyes.

His eyebrow quirks. “There is a list, huh?”

“Is that a yes?” you grin, mimicking his raised brow.

He walks up to your desk and slowly reaches past you for his jacket, hung on the back of your seat.

And as his face gets right next to your ear-...

“Maybe.” 

When he pulls back and you see his blue eyes, how dark they are, it takes all your self-control to keep a straight face. But the question escapes your mouth anyway.

“See you later this week?” 

You mentally kick yourself for this moment of weakness.

“Hm,” he gives you a peculiar smile on his way out. 

Well, that wasn't exactly a yes.

At the door, he shoots you a quick look over his shoulder.

“Have fun.”

...does he seem a little pissed-off to you? 

And you have fun that night, all right. 

Even though all you can think about are those blue eyes and dirty blonde hair.

Then, Neil doesn’t show up for the next couple of days.

For a moment, you get tempted to check on him at the HQ, but you scoff at yourself. He’s a big boy, he can handle himself. 

When he finally walks into your lab, something feels different. 

You can’t put your finger on it. 

In the beginning, he’s just so official and it irks you. But you look into his eyes and… it almost seems like he’s taunting you. And it makes your heart increase its pace. 

Oh, you see how it is. 

On top of it all, he’s so annoying today.

He sits on the chair, loosening his tie, his legs spread, his gaze locked on you. 

After yet another snarky comment, you grit your teeth, trying to focus on the documents in front of you. 

“Neil, if you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.”

And he does. He does, leaning back on the chair with a smug smile. 

So... now what?

You scoff and close in on him.

“Why are you like this?” you utter, reaching for his tie.

The innocent look in his eyes.

“Like what?”

You give his tie a tug.

“Rude.”

And then that bastard runs the tongue over his lower lip and smirks.

Next thing you know, you straddle him on the chair, burying your fingers in his hair as his mouth crushes on yours. Neil wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer. The urgency of the kiss takes your breath away. You rock your hips and you brush against the bulk in his trousers, and oh god, it feels so good. Your head arches back. Neil’s breath and his lips on your neck drive you wild. You need him, right here, right now. You cling on to him for your dear life as you move your hips again and a sharp moan escapes his mouth. 

The abrupt knock on your door makes you both jump at your feet, trying to level your breaths. 

“Mate, I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Why the fuck are you not answering your phone, eh?”

As Ives enters the room, his eyes dart between the two of you, a wicked grin plastered on his face.

“Ah shit, I hope I am not interrupting?”

You roll your eyes as Neil simply glares at him.

The moment is gone, and so are they, leaving for yet another emergency operation.

A few days later, your friends take you out for drinks, and you definitely have one too many. 

…Or a few too many. 

You end up standing at Neil’s apartment door, pressing the doorbell excessively long.

He opens up, looking you up and down with an amused smile.

You poke him in the chest.

“Consider yourself booty-called.”

You giggle as you watch his eyes widen.

Neil clenches his jaw and takes a step back.

“Jesus... Come in?”

He takes your coat and you make your way inside. 

You are way past caring about small talks and whatnot. You pull on his shirt, trying to guide him towards that rather comfy looking couch. 

One more step. 

You want to kiss him, but Neil puts a finger on your mouth and shakes his head.

“What? I thought you wanted in on the list?” you ask as you sit down on the couch, your brows furrowed.

“Not like this.”

Wow, now your pride is hurt a little.

“Fine, I’m going home then,” you pout and try to get up quickly.

You underestimate the amount of alcohol in your system though, so you yelp and fall back. 

“You’re not going anywhere in this state,” he scoffs.

Why is he the way that he is?

“I’ll get you some coffee, make yourself comfortable.”

And so you do. You toss your shoes away and rest your head on one of the pillows. 

You close your eyes just for a second.

You open them up again when Neil covers you with a blanket. 

To be honest, you’re way too tired and cozy to argue.

When you notice the soft look in his blue eyes, your heart melts in your chest.

And because all your filters are off at this point, you say, “I really like you, you know?”

He chuckles and places a small kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Tell me that when you’re sober.”

The next morning… well, let’s just say that you wish the sun was shining a bit more quietly.

Neil glances at you from the kitchen.

“Morning.”

You don’t know what hits you first – the pounding headache or the nauseating dread at the thought of what’s happened last night.

“Fuck me,” you groan, hiding your face in your palms. 

And what do you hear in response?

“With pleasure. But how about we eat breakfast first?”

[josefavomjaaga]

Helfert, Joachim Murat, Chapter 2, Part 3

So, the Congress of Vienna is about to be officially opened, and the mood particularly among British diplomats has turned somewhat hostile towards a King Joachim Murat on the throne of Naples. Murat does not attend the congress in person (apparently, Eugène Beauharnais was the only member of the family who did) but has sent representatives there. Meanwhile, back in Naples:

What impression those news from the Congress of Vienna had on the Court of Naples the interested reader can imagine. The hot-tempered king went from one excitement to another, while Caroline, faithful to the role she had taken upon herself, maintained her prudent attitude and, supported by Count Mier, did not miss any opportunity to repeat to her husband the advice that Castlereagh had given him through the Duke of Campochiaro. But who can account for his disposition? Every ray of hope set him aglow, every piece of unfavourable news threw him into a state of despair, in which he returned to all the great plans which they had so often tried to put out of his mind.

A peculiar impression was made on Joachim by the arrival of French General Boulnois, who, coming from the Jonian Islands, which he had handed over to the Allies in the name of his king, arrived in Naples in the night of 12 to 13 October and requested an audience with the king the very next day, which the king granted him. Boulnois made all sorts of captivating statements, spoke of the admiration that King Louis had for Joachim's military qualities and merits, of the European situation, of the possibility of a renewed outbreak of hostilities, of the great role that Joachim would then be called upon to play in Italy, and the like, so that the king finally asked him in amazement whether he had the authority to enter into any negotiations with him. Boulnois then suddenly gave the conversation a different turn, spoke about the conditions in France, about the discontent that prevailed in the army against Louis XVIII, about the confidence that King Joachim enjoyed in the same circles as in a large part of the French nation, until finally the King took leave of him, not without letting him know that he was not at all willing to fall into the trap that was being set for him from a certain side.

On October 22nd, Roccaromana returned from Vienna, where he had found the most friendly reception at Court, which made the King quite happy for a moment; he was only worried again that Emperor Franz had not answered him in writing. The Duke had less favourable news to report about the rest of the society, whose views and aims were not at all in harmony with the King's interests. A confirmation of this seemed to come on November 4, when a courier arrived from the Russian envoy to the Congress, Nesselrode, summoning General Tuyll to Vienna. Although assurances were enclosed that this step had no political motives whatsoever and that the baron would return to his post as soon as possible, it could not fail that at court and in government circles people put their heads together and suspected all sorts of things. Joachim himself fell into gloomy contemplation, did not want to believe that the matter was as it was presented, and saw himself sacrificed by Russia. When a few days later, on 12 November, Major Prince Alliano brought bad news from Vienna - the congress had been formally opened on 1 November without the two Neapolitan plenipotentiaries being recognised and admitted as participants - the King at first felt as if he had been crushed, and in the second dreamed of nothing but war, defence to the knife.

The time was high for the arrival of a friendlier messenger: General Filangieri, who on the 17th delivered a handwritten letter from Emperor Franz to his monarch. The next day, when our envoy appeared before the King, he found him in a mood of true exuberance. "I am imbued with the goodness of your Emperor," he exclaimed: "It is he, his mighty protection, to whom I shall owe my crown. I shall make it my duty to repeat this often to my children, in order to instil in them, for his illustrious house, the same sentiments of recognition and attachment which have inspired me. My person, my army, everything I possess, I place at his disposal. May he have the goodness to tell me what I should do in order to be of service to him. I want to fight for him with my troops, not only in Italy, no, everywhere where his interests make it desirable. Let him but procure for me the recognition of England, and then I shall fear neither France nor Spain. These two powers cannot disembark 20,000 men; but there shall be 40,000 of them, and I shall know how to resist them!"

What Joachim had tossed around in his conversation with Mier concerning France and Spain related to all sorts of rumours that kept cropping up, sometimes in this form, sometimes in another. Now it was said that in Sicily people were busily equipping all the warships and transport ships, increasing the land troops and making preparations to receive a Spanish army corps. Then again Gallo received news from Rome: the French minister there had spoken loudly about a family agreement between the courts of Paris and Madrid in favour of Ferdinand IV, and the Pope had also promised to support it. Since Maria Carolina was known to be dead, it was her two sons in whose hands the threads of all these various activities were brought together. The hereditary Prince Franz, it was said in Naples, had promoted himself to the position of head of the Carbonari, maintained the connection between those of Calabria and those in Sicily; the younger Prince formed the centre of all the common arrangements of the three Bourbon courts in Vienna. Since Leopold had a brother of Murat's lieutenant-general d'Ambrosio in his entourage, the latter was sent to Vienna at the turn of the year 1814/15 to find out what was going on and to take care of other matters there…

General Filangieri also delivered a letter from Prince Metternich to Mier, who was instructed to appease the king. " It is not seldom one creates embarrassments for oneself," wrote the wise Chancellor of State, "if one tries to meet them by too impatient haste. The king's attitude, the only one that corresponds to his true interests, must be that of calm. He is in his own country, he has a fine army, between him and France he has the armed forces of Austria; he must come to an understanding with the only immediate border neighbour he has, and he must place himself in the position of a power which seeks no quarrel with any other, but which would reject any attack". The immediate border neighbour of Joachim, as hardly needs to be said, meant none other than the Pope, and Count Mier was confident that he could take advantage of the happy mood in which our Emperor's letter had put the king to persuade him to give up his seemingly hostile position in the Marches. But on this point he found Joachim unbending. He showed himself willing in secondary matters; he promised to instruct Prince Carascosa to comply in all respects with the wishes of the FM Bellegarde; he also declared himself willing, if desired in Vienna, to replace this general, a hothead and full of mistrust, by another. In essence, however, the king not only maintained his old position, but gave the matter a twist, as if it were Naples which had to be concerned about Rome. In the Marches, he claimed, there were no more than 16,000 men and they were spread out from Ascoli to Fano, which was indispensable for the maintenance of peace in these regions; only recently an uprising had broken out at Osimo near Ancona, and mobile columns had had to be sent out to quell it. Of course, his own speeches revealed that the discontent of the population in the Marches was in fact only due to the oppressive presence of his troops, and the papal government actually accused his agencies of deliberately sowing discord and discontent in order to provide him with a pretext for interference. Cardinal Bacca, by direct order of the Pope, sent a very serious, even impolite letter to the Neapolitan Consul Zuccari in Rome, openly denouncing his activities, the scouts and agitators he had in his guard, the secret meetings he was organising and the like, and threatening to use police force. In this way, the tension between the two neighbouring governments grew and was about to erupt into open hostility.

I guess, talking about wanting to fight for whoever and for whatever reason really was the worst thing Murat could do at that moment. And I wonder if, by attending the congress in person, Murat might to some degree have been able to force the other governments' hand. If this would not have been a perfect moment for some Gascon impudence - just mingle and be a pain everybody's ass, remind them that you're there and will not go away. It's much harder to ignore somebody if he's standing right beside you.

But then again, they probably would have managed to do that, too, if they deemed it necessary.

[if-the-crown-fits-translate-it]

Duchy Conversation 4

[27/03, 4:29 AM GMT - 27/03, 6:13 AM GMT]

[The following transcript details the conversation is between one of the Crown ARG Discord members and Duke on Twitter]

Donti: “Hi! How was your day?

Its me again :)c

((If its late or youre sleeping dw about responding :p))”

Duke: “Forgive my tardiness, my embroidery was enchanting me so that my ears laid unaware!

How do you do, Donti? It is the Duke speaking. I must say, my sister has quite the opinion of you!”

Donti: “Oh its great to talk to you again Duke :D I hope I left a good impression! Is your embroidery going well?”

Duke: “It is going quite splendid! The Crown truly does spoil us, giving my sister and I such rich-coloured thread. Truly we are fortunate for his generosity and love.”

Donti: “Ohh! Good colors always make embroidery fun! What are you making?”

Duke: “I must ask though - as a sheep yourself why must you graze on such nimble hearts? Wolves are not supposed to concern themselves with the opinions and thoughts of prey such as yourselves but Prince is but a pup, why must you all be so cruel? I am quite interested in the answer, you see, because it is I who saw the tear tracks down faers face and I who heard the drums of despair in this household.”

Donti: “Oh..

Are you talking about blunt anon?

All of us are very angry at them, whoever they are.

I promise they do not reflect us as a whole.”

Duke: “To answer your previous question however, I am making a rose for Baroness. I do feel horribly for how I was unable to aid her with her spoiled dress so I do hope this gift soothes her and shows that there is no ill will from I to her.”

Donti: “Thats nice! Baroness loves flowers and nature! Thats super thoughtful of you. Im sure she'll love it :D

But back to Prince... Are fae ok? we're worried about faem.”

Duke: “"Blunt anon" is quite a peculiar name I must say. Indeed that is the scoundrel I speak of. It is wonderful to hear that you all are not that way - frankly, if I suspected you were the one to make Prince cry I would have simply neglected to respond, as is customary when one deals with enemies of one's family. Prince is currently recuperating, poor thing. A bleeding heart only leads to death and yet fae still has not learned that yet. I do wish you to send out a warning if you would be so kind - do let anyone know that if they ever treat Duchess in such a matter they will swiftly come to regret it. A gentleman does not revel in violence but she is my most dearest sister.

I thank you for your kind words however, I do indeed hope she enjoys my gift so - do not tell the others but she may be the only one in this family I can truly connect to on an intellectual setting, besides my sister of course.”

Donti: “Ill tell people not to be rude to Duchess. Not that they would.. Im pretty sure they like her :D”

Donti: “"Blunt anon" came when people would send... Rude asks to people. It was originally just blunt questions. But it escalated to... What happened to Prince :( We're trying to find them, but theres only so much we can do

Oh wait! have other people reached out to you all yet?”

Donti: “I know some of my good friends have talked to duchess.. But not to you yet!”

Duke: “Ah, indeed people have reached out and only Duchess was there to greet them. It pains me of course but I found myself with activities to do throughout the day. Schooling is still important to Duchess and I so that took up quite a bit of time - do not tell Crown but I was indeed spending time taking in the beauty of ballet instead of working purely on my Latin. Tea time too is an important affair, especially for I, and then it is always important to spend time with ones sister! So alas, you have been the only one I have graced with my thoughts and feelings out of your crowd of sheep.”

Donti: “Hm. I like the name sheep... Its a little kinder than "plebs"

You seems to like a lot of.. Elegant things! (I hope thats the right word) like embroidery and ballet! Where did you learn such refined taste :oc”

Duke: “Where did I learn such refined tastes? They have always been apart of me, you must understand. The Crown helped unlock those parts that I kept buried deep away and help nurture them. Oh such a brute I used to be! No care for the finer things in life, only one-upping my beloved sister. To think I used to slide in the dirt just for a measly point - bah! Truly I am in much debt to the Crown, for without him I still may have been a unruly fool.”

Donti: “... You played sports before you met Crown?”

Duke: “My sister and I both did, yes. It does not do well to dwell on such miserable times, Donti. This is why little one you are still a lamb.”

Donti: “Oh! If you don't want to talk about it, you dont have to! ^u^ Friends dont force their friends to talk about uncomfortable things!

Hm... But if the plebs are sheep... And I am a lamb... Who is the shepard...?”

Duke: “How sweet! Tell me, little lamb, who do you think the shepherd is? Or if there is one at all?

If you are a little lamb then I must ask, is there a Mary to be found alongside you as well?”

Donti: “Hm.... I think from our perspective the shepherd, (or shepherds in this case) would be our lovely mods :D

But from your point of view? Its most definitely Crown!

Andd.. Im assuming a Mary is a leader... Little lambs follow Mary after all... Hm. A lot of us have shown leadership at some point in time or another! It really depends on the scenario!”

Duke: “Intriguing.

It depends on the scenario you say?”

Donti: “Yep! People take charge depending on whats happening, and sometimes theres no leadership, just us discussing and working through it!

Why do you ask?”

Duke: “When the flocks have gone and left and all there is is the gentle bobbing of the water, who do you trust to save you from drowning? While you thrash and scream and feel yourself weaken who do you look towards for guidance? When the taste of salt kisses the interior of your esophagus whose name is on the tip of your dying tongue?

For I, it is the Crown, as he saved my sister and I from exactly that fate - but who is it for you?”

Donti: “Hm.. As a "flock" we all support one another.. That way, we can have multiple points of support! One person supporting that many people would be very stressful for that one person, you know”

Duke: “Of course.

Even then in a home all parts play along and join in the symphony but even with that, some are still load-bearing.

Who would be your load-bearing walls? All I ask is for some simple names, you understand. My curiosity is much like a cat, you see. Only satisfaction may truly bring me back.”

Donti: “Hm.. Are you asking for the names of my friends?

Well. There's Jack and Raeva, whom Duchess has spoken with, I think. Llyr, Ren, and Luna are also friends of mine. But I try not to burden them.

They are not so much load bearing pillars, but more of frail walls to shield me from the cold.”

Duke: “The drifting breezes that bring forth frost and tremors truly are such tiresome times. That you have shields is wonderful and it does ease my heart, but I do feel as though I must impart some wisdom else I'd be an unfavourable acquaintance - do try and build yourself a roaring inferno, little sheep.

Have so much fire around yourself that the winds cannot glance your way and even the Grand Archer Yi looks on with fear.”

Donti: “... And what if the fire burns me?

What then?”

Duke: “Do you think yourself unable to control the flames?”

Donti: “...Yes. Flames are temperamental, after all. When the inferno's dried up every last bit of water and eaten all of the wood, what will it turn to?”

Duke: “You want the answer to be yourself, I can see you reaching for it with an outstretched palm. Here is the truth: you can quell flames easily with just a few words. You can breathe in the ash and let the smoke dissipate. You do not have to be burned.

Ah, but these are just fun matters to think about. Do not dwell on my words too much. I would hate for you to overthink just simple pondering.”

Donti: “...Ill take your words to heart, friend. Even if it's just banter.

How do you know this?”

Duke: “Do not cause yourself concern with such a thing. In case I have caused you to distress then please do take this video as repentance. Isn't it so lovely how she spins?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qqejv_BQ7Zg”

Donti: “Oh! that is a pretty video.. I wonder how long it took for her to make it so effortless..?

Do you dance?”

Duke: “Such an exquisite form of art. The mastery she has put forth would bring others to shame and ruin. A true professional since birth. I myself do not dance in this way - my sister and I are well versed in the waltz and ballroom dance as is customary for our statuses - but ballet alludes me. Alas, if only that was the direction I chose for my life to go but no matter - I have embroidery, poetry and oil painting to keep me truly green from envy.”

Donti: “Those are very enviable hobbies! I imagine you're skilled at them too! As for ballet... Ive heard that in order to dance that way, one has to go through great pain. I'd hate for you to experience that”

Duke: “A bit of suffering is always worth the pain if beauty and joy can be received in the end, do you not think?”

Donti: “As long as youre happy, I suppose!

I’m sorry to cut this short, but its getting late for me! And probably for you too ^^

I hope you rest well!”

Duke: “I hope you have humble dreams and a quiet rest. Goodnight, little lamb.”

[strawberrysoup]

Let’s Review || Chapter 11

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit/18+ warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-con/dub-con elements, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, very dark 

There was a weird sense of urgency and purpose when the soldiers appeared to collect her from the kitchens. They weren’t frantic per say, but she was definitely aware of a certain energy around them. As soon as Bucky walked through the doors, he made a beeline for her and swept her up into his arms. The pair were pretty touchy feely with her as a rule, but this was different for some reason. 

Most of Penny’s irritation had dissolved with the excellent meal she’d received. Chef Cohen had prepared Shakshuka, a very traditional dish that she hadn’t eaten since her mother had died. She’d burst into tears at the first bite and thanked him profusely through the meal. He was a very kind man in his late 50’s who explained that he was at her disposal whenever she was hungry, literally at any time, and would make whatever she asked for. She didn’t even have to know what she wanted specifically, all she had to do was ask for food and he would whip something up in less than an hour. 

She wasn’t sure if he understood her circumstances. He never let on that he had any idea what the situation was and she was too afraid to tell him and potentially put him in danger. He was so nice, had told her about his family— she couldn’t do anything to jeopardize him. And if he did know, she decided she’d rather him not tell her. He felt like he could be a friend if not a confidant and she couldn’t ruin that. 

“Did you have a good breakfast precious?” Bucky’s voice was nearly a coo, burying her into his arms and nuzzling against the side of her face, “I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry we didn’t realize how hungry you were. We should’ve noticed, we should’ve taken better care of you.” 

Penny didn’t get a chance to answer before Steve came up behind her, pressing against her back and wrapping around the both of them, “we’re gonna do a better job from now on, doll, I promise.”

“We’re gonna take you to see Bruce for a check up, okay?” the brunet pressed against her brushed his lips over her temple, “Peter said you haven’t been to the doctor in a while, he’s just going to make sure you’re alright. If there’s anything you want to talk to him about, we’ll step out of the room.”

For a moment, she considered not answering. She hated that they were making her do anything, that they were telling her what was going to happen instead of asking, but she hadn’t been to a doctor in nearly 10 years. In fact, her desire to go to the doctor was outweighing her irritation. The food had helped too. 

“Yeah, okay,” she nodded in agreement, ignoring their mutual smiles as Bucky pulled back and wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her close before beginning to walk back towards the elevators. 

It didn’t take long to get to the doctor’s office, which was actually a lab. In the back of her head she remembered Tony saying that Bruce was a scientist that Peter liked to learn from. It would’ve endeared the man to her, if he wasn’t so fucking complicit in her kidnapping. The same thing had happened with Clint; he seemed like such a decent guy, they could’ve been friends in any other situation, and yet he wasn’t doing anything to help her. 

“Hey guys, come on in, I’m just finishing this up,” Bruce called from behind a computer, gesturing towards a table that almost resembled the chair from a doctor’s office. 

Steve lifted her up, setting her on the edge and giving her what was—fuck that was winning smile. She refused to let her heart race, remembering back to once upon a time in the coffee shop when she’d thought he was incredibly attractive and so, so nice. It was almost distracting. He leaned down and brushed his nose against hers sweetly, pressing a kiss there a moment later before backing away. 

“Alright Penny, I went ahead and pulled your medical records,” Penny didn’t want to know how he’d done that, what an invasion of privacy, “but we’re going to need to go through a lot of it now since you haven’t seen a doctor in so long and you’re a lot older now. If at any time you’re uncomfortable answering questions in front of Bucky and Steve, all you have to do is let me know and I’ll send them out, okay?” 

“Okay,” nervousness was thrumming through her a bit more now- God she hadn’t been to the doctor in so long, she wasn't sure what to expect. 

An arm came around her shoulders, a metal hand settling over the top of her arm. Bucky had saddled up as close to the table as possible, trying to offer comfort through his presence. She would absolutely never admit that she leaned into his heat a little, or that the attempt was even fractionally successful. 

The appointment wasn't as nerve wracking as she'd expected; there were a lot of questions about her past medical history and family medical history, her habits regarding smoking and drinking and exercise, he looked in her eyes and ears and listened to her breathing, did she have any allergies or take any medications? It was a lot of things she remembered from going to the doctor as a kid.

There was only one time when her heart felt like it might burst out of her chest: Bruce mentioned wanting to do a blood test. It was important in part because she hadn't ever had one, but also because she was Jewish and there were dozens of diseases passed genetically through the population. She knew of them of course, Tay-sachs and Gauchers and a slew of other things, but she'd never considered she could have them— there was no time. 

Luckily, he'd decided it wasn't a good time since she had barely been eating. Escape had been on her mind almost constantly since waking up in Stark's home but never so critically as when she thought there would be needles involved. Penny's fear of needles had started as a child and overtime had become an overwhelming, if irrational, phobia. The kidnapping via injection certainly made it worse too. 

Bruce finished up, continuing to address her rather than Steve or Bucky. It seemed peculiar for some reason, that he was being sure to treat her like her own person instead of the soldiers' property. 

"Have you ever had blood drawn Penny?" 

"Uhm, no," she did her best not to shift, not wanting to show weakness, "I'm sure it's not really necessary. I feel completely fine and—"

"There are certain genetically linked diseases I can test for with a blood panel. The fact that you probably have anemia is a little worrying because of your heritage. Now we can’t do the test today, you haven’t been eating or drinking enough, but we’ll keep an eye on your recovery over the next few days and schedule one. That being said, I want to hook up an IV for a few hours, you’re very dehydrated.”

“No, thank you,” Penny stood up from the table, composing her face carefully and putting her hands on her hips, “I’d rather just drink water.” 

“Penny I can tell you haven’t been getting enough hydration for days,” Bruce stated, ignoring the semi-panicked looks the soldiers sent each other, “Whatever your reasoning was, it’s hurting you. A drip will rehydrate you relatively quickly and you can get on with your day.” 

“I’m not in any critical danger, drinking water will be enough,” usually she wouldn’t argue with a doctor but if he came near her with a needle she would throw down. 

“Doll, it’s not an option.” 

God, how many times had she heard that. It’s not an option. It’s not an option. Nothing was ever an option. She’d been kidnapped, was being held against her will— fuck, she refused to list their sins against her again.

"I'm an adult, I get to decide what medical procedures I do and don't consent to."

"Baby, did you hit your head again? I think we're a little past consent." 

How many times would she have to physically fight these motherfuckers before they gave up. 

"I hate needles," she snapped, glaring at Steve with as much rage as she could muster, "no blood draws, no IVs, no vaccines, nothing."

Bucky stepped closer to her side, an imploring look on his face, "your health is suffering right now sweetheart, if Bruce says you need an IV, you're going to get it. We're going to take of you, Penny." 

They'd done a real stand up job of taking care of her in the last several days for sure. She'd only ended up drugged, concussed twice over, half starved, dangerously sleep deprived, and enraged. The skepticism must've shown on her face because Bucky visibly winced at the implication while Bruce had to turn and pretend to cough to cover his laughter. 

"Sweetheart, I understand that it makes you uncomfortable," Steve somehow managed to manifest in front of her in the blink of an eye and she startled backwards a step. 

The blond was freakishly fast and Penny was beginning to suspect that everyone calling him and Bucky 'super soldiers' weren't just mocking their demeanors. Steve had been strong enough to snap the lock on the bathroom door like twig, could bodily lift her with just one arm, and he moved a fraction of an inch too fast to be normal. Bucky was similar in the strength department, plus he had that arm. But instead of nearly vibrating with restrained power at all times, Bucky was almost preternaturally still. Even when she moved in the middle of the night and startled him awake, the only way she knew was because his eyes would open. He was so still sometimes she wondered if he even had to breathe, was his heart even beating? 

The brunette's arms came to wrap gently around her shoulders from behind; the way he held her was more reminiscent of a loving cuddle than a restraint but it worked all the same. If they didn't want her to go anywhere, it was going to be very hard to run off. The doors to the lab swept open abruptly, as if beckoning her to escape, but no one came through. JARVIS, always looking out. 

"I'll make your lives hell," she hissed through gritted teeth, eyes locked on the blond in front of her while Bucky backed them up and sat on the exam chair, tugging her into his lap, "if you come near me with a needle I'll shove it through your eye." 

"Penny, be sweet," Bucky's tone was firm, his arms squeezing around her in what she assumed was supposed to be a comforting gesture, "it'll all be okay and you'll feel so much better after."

Penny's eyes were dragged away from Steve when she caught movement, zeroing in on Bruce. He was fiddling with something in crinkly plastic and her blood froze in her veins when she realized it was a sterilized needle. He was preparing an IV despite her protests and panic began coursing through her like poison. 

"W-wait, wait I don't need an IV, I swear I feel fine, I'll drink a ton of water, don't do this—" 

"It’s gonna be alright babydoll," Steve cooed, understanding that her anger in this case was 100% a result of sheer terror, "Buck's gonna hold you the whole time. Bruce will give you a shot to numb the pain and—" 

"No, n-no, no, no please," Penny could barely move as Bucky locked his arms in place, holding her steady while Steve moved to block her view of Bruce, who was filling a syringe with lidocaine. 

"Shhhh, just watch me, baby," the blond brought his hands up to cup her face, manipulating her head to face him dead on, "don't pay attention to Bruce, just keep your eyes on mine." 

Tears of panic and fear began falling from her eyes, overwhelming terror beginning to consume her. There was no rationalizing the phobia, no talking herself through the fear, all she could think was I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die. When she could hear the doctor's footsteps shift in their direction, she opened her mouth and started to scream bloody murder. Thrashing wasn't effective in the least but she did the best she could, jerking every inch of her body as violently as possible. She couldn't hear anything any of them were saying, she couldn't even hear her own screams; all she could hear was the blood rushing through her ears and the mantra, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die over and over again in her head. 

"Dr. Banner, sir is currently on his way and asks that you wait to perform any procedures until he arrives." 

Bucky tensed under her but Penny barely noticed. The edges of her vision were going dark and Steve wasn't so much holding her face in place anymore as trying to caress her cheeks and jaw. She could see the doors to the lab, still open as if waiting for her to run.

Instead, Stark came through them. There was a tightness to his usual swagger and she wondered if she was imagining the irritation in the lines of his face. 

"You know I thought I had sound proofed all of the labs, but I can hear my poor girl screaming from three floors away," he commented casually as he swept in, easily pushing past Steve and stealing Penny from Bucky's lap,  pulling her into the cage of his arms, "now this is over an IV, correct?"

"Please, please, please—" Penny's voice choked off in a sob as she tried to tug away and make a break for the door. 

"Shhhh, angel, look at me," Tony carefully manipulated her head, making her look up at him through her panic, "you're going to drink plenty of water and relax all day, understand? You're going to eat plenty and drink so much water you have to pee every thirty minutes." 

"N-no needles—" 

"That's right baby, no needles," he pulled her into his chest and hushed her, stroking her hair gently while giving the three men behind her a careful look, "with supervision you'll be fine without an IV, but you have to be good, do everything you're told. Can you be a good girl for me, Penny?"

Steve and Bucky watched as their girl nodded against the man's shoulder, still crying. This wouldn't be strike two, not quite since she'd gotten so upset as a result of them trying to take care of her, but apprehension was setting in. Tony was their friend, but he wouldn't put their feelings before Penny's and that was a dangerous position to be in. Especially considering JARVIS had all but jumped ship on them and was firmly on Penny's side. 

"Now, is there anything else Brucie Bear? Because I think Penny here is gonna come with me to the labs and watch Peter try to make a robot." 

Somehow, despite the fact that they knew Penny hated Tony just as much if not more than she hated them, he was the one who managed to get through to her. Tony Stark was her mortal enemy, the kidnapper, the pedophile, and yet he was the one holding her while she cried in distress. Bucky and Steve watched on in amazement and disbelief. 

There was something about Tony that was just a touch unnatural. The way he could manipulate people was almost beyond comprehension. It showed in his friendships, the way that people who were sent to kill him were so easily turned to his side. People who didn’t want anyone, who didn’t want friends, found themselves enfolded in his presence. It was also apparent in the way that Peter had almost accepted his new situation, how he was so quickly coming to terms with the way his life had changed. Tony Stark was, as far as anyone knew, not enhanced in any way, but some of his companions had started to wonder. 

They watched as the older man spirited her away, talking loudly and keeping her tucked under his arm as they walked. Steve and Bucky were left in the dust, feeling dejected once again. 

“Leave it to Tony to decide he has more medical authority than me,” Bruce gave a low snort, rolling his eyes, “does he have 7 PHDs? No, he doesn't.” 

“We keep fuckin’ it up, don’t we?” Bucky groaned, watching the doctor step back towards his computer system, “We’re gonna end up dead. World War II and HYDRA couldn’t kill us but Tony fuckin’ Stark sure will.” 

“Hard to compete with a Goddamn witch,” Steve muttered, running a hand through his hair before crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You two need to be doing what Tony is with Peter,” Bruce interjected before the super soldiers could continue to lament their situation, “he panders to him just enough to keep him happy. He can give an inch and Peter thinks its a mile. You’re strategic geniuses, master interrogators, use your strengths.” 

The ‘dumbasses’ was implied at the end of the statement. In all fairness, he was right. 

Steve exhaled through his nose, a stabilizing breath, before turning to regard Bucky, “A garden, to start. She had a lot of things on her Pinterest account, we’re gonna look through there. JARVIS? Can you please make sure our kitchen is stocked with plenty of kosher foods?” 

“And is there anyway we can get the extra room in the apartment turned into a garden? Maybe a rooftop garden?” 

“Sir has given me full discretion to green light any construction projects that will aid in Ms. Parker’s adjustment. A section of the roof can easily be cleared for a garden and greenhouse. The east facing wall of the spare room can be replaced with floor to ceiling windows and UV lights can be installed. Might I also suggest a knitting area?”

"Yeah, that," Bucky nodded, "any other suggestions JARV?" 

"On her Pinterest Ms. Parker has shown interest in softball, soccer, crocheting, yoga and video games."

"Can you have everything she needs for those things sent for and brought to the apartment? And have everything set up as much as possible considering the renovations that'll be made for the garden room?"

"Yes sergeant, although I would suggest making room in your personal gym for Ms. Parker do to yoga."

“Good idea JARVIS,” Bucky felt a bit of relief that the AI was willing to help, even if it was only because it would help Penny in the long run, “I know we talked about keeping her secluded but I think we should show her the game room, introduce her to Thor and Sam so she can play video games with them.” 

Steve looked hesitant. The brunet knew why; they’d waited what felt like so long to find a girl who appealed to both of them. They were possessive by nature and having so little over time, growing up in the Great Depression followed by fighting in the war, only to suffer a hellish betrayal and go into the ice for so long, meant they were covetous. Sharing their girl so soon was uncomfortable and just the idea made both of them chafe. 

“Yeah, we should,” he choked after a moment, clearing his throat. 

“We’re gonna build a life, Stevie,” Bucky said quietly, stepping closer to the man and putting his hands on his shoulders, “we’re going to work this out with our girl and eventually, she’ll want to be with us as much as she can. But until we get to that point we have to make some concessions.” 

“But she’ll still sleep in our bed.”

“Yes Stevie, she’ll still sleep in our bed.”