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emilia3546 · 3 years

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The Surprise - Nessian NSFW

Cassian's been dealing with the camp lords all day. It's a good job Nesta got home first, and had a chance to set up a surprise for him.

*****

Nesta sighed and glanced across at the clock, thirty minutes until Cassian's meeting ended, thirty minutes until he got home all riled up from dealing with the Illyrian camp lords, thirty minutes for her to prepare. She smiled to herself, indulging in a glance in the mirror before moving, she wasn't usually quite this daring, Cassian had never seen her in anything so scandalous, but then again her clothes usually disappeared quickly. But he'd like this new set she'd bought yesterday whilst pretending to be looking for a present for Elain's birthday, she already had one, but he didn't know that. She'd taken pains to match the crimson exactly to her mate's siphons, and she was rather pleased with herself, it looked as if his magic was surrounding her, just about covering her breasts, lifting them slightly, then diving down her body, twisting from one side to the other until it was loosely tied around a lacy belt, before joining together and falling as a sort of skirt to conceal her sex, whilst still leaving it exposed. Yes, she'd done very well with this, she'd be surprised if he didn't make her suffer for teasing him with it.

The clock ticked, shit, she only had twenty minutes now, Nesta launched herself into action, sucking in a breath as the plug already in her ass moved inside her. She took a few breaths, then released a chain from where it was concealed in the ceiling. She could almost see him standing there in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe, running his gaze up and down her body, that annoying sexy look in his eyes, so uniquely Cassian that she'd never seen it replicated anywhere else, never. She knew he'd be fed up and annoyed when he got back, but that he would freeze the moment he saw her, his anger turning to arousal. She rubbed her thighs together, she'd wasted another five minutes now. What had she forgotten? She ran through a mental checklist, nothing, she'd even set out her favorite blindfold, and Cassian's favorite gag, among other toys, in case he wanted to use them.

Everything was ready, she reached up to pull the chain down a little, checking the length was correct before slipping her wrists into the padded cuffs hanging down. Once she had clasped the cuffs, the magic of the chain shortened it, lifting her onto her toes. She squeaked in surprise, she'd always thought it was Cassian doing that. Still, she did know how the magic worked, it wouldn't let her go, not until Cassian, only Cassian, manually released her, or she said her safeword, beyond that, not even the power of High Lords would unclasp the cuffs. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, anticipation gnawing at her as she rubbed her thighs together again.

He was late, only by three minutes, but still late, and Nesta sighed when the front door slammed shut and she heard Cassian's footsteps on the stairs, then the landing, then right outside the bedroom. She was right, he froze the moment he threw the door open, his eyes practically devouring her as he casually leaned against the doorframe, right as she'd imagined, with that annoying smirk,

"Alright, sweetheart?"

"Get over here."

"I just got home, aren't you going to ask me how the meeting went?" He feigned shock, laughing as Nesta shifted on her feet again, the pressure from the plug so much more now that she was on her toes,

"How was your meeting?" She relented, the quicker she played his game, the quicker he'd give up and give her what she wanted,

"Shit. You know what they're like, it's so," he smiled as he searched for the right word, and locked eyes with her as he grinned, "Frustrating." Nesta rolled her eyes, and her mouth dropped open in disbelief when real magic stopped her from moving any more, not the illusion she'd created, he was actually using his magic on her now. "But I think you can help with that, can't you, Nes?"

"Yes." She gasped, "Please,"

"Good girl," he murmured, pushing off the wall and stalking across to her, and she tried to look over her shoulder at him as he circled behind her, but he pushed her chin back forwards, "You look ravishing," he whispered, running a hand over her shoulder,

"Then you know what to do with me," she managed, keeping her voice surprisingly steady, but he ignored her,

"Why aren't you wearing your collar?" Shit, she had forgotten something,

"I forgot," she squeezed her eyes shut as he vanished from behind her, the rummaging in the drawer behind her sending her heart into a gallop, she hadn't gotten out any impact toys, maybe he was going to spank her now as punishment,

"shhh, shhh," he muttered, "Steady," the collar, that was all he'd gone to get, and Nesta tipped her head back to let him fasten it around her neck, "There, now you're mine."

"I'm always yours." He chuckled, and slipped the blindfold over her eyes,

"Oh, I know." He stepped round in front of her, and tipped her chin upwards, angling her face towards his. Nesta opened for him the moment his lips touched hers, gods she could never get enough of this, enough of him, he was everything she'd ever dreamed about and more. Every kiss was like the very first, the raw love barreling into her took her breath away every time, and she moaned into his mouth, tears welling in her eyes. She panted for breath when he released her mouth, hardly thinking when he gripped her chin again, tugging her mouth open. She swallowed obediently when he spat in her mouth, gasping when he pulled her mouth open yet again. The gag, oh, she shouldn't have even gotten it out, she twisted her head, trying to pull away, but he gripped her face, holding her still as he slid it between her teeth. Tears welled again as the ball struck the back of her throat, making her cough and choke, but Cassian just held it still until she could take it properly, leaving her mouth pinned wide open, but rendering her silenced. He gently ran a finger along her jaw, then down her neck, tracing the collar around her throat before stepping back.

The silence was unnerving, she couldn't tell where he was, if he was even standing next to her any more. Her head shot up at the rasp of talons on the wooden floorboards as he circled back around behind her. She shook her head from side to side, trying to dislodge the blindfold, to get any slight glimpse of him, of what he was doing. Broad hands slid around her waist, tugging her back against him, and she gripped the chains above her head, just to hold on to something, anything. Cassian chuckled behind her,

"How long were you waiting like this, sweetheart?" Nesta tried to speak, but all she could manage was a weak whimper through the gag, "All tied up and desperate, gods you're soaked," she wriggled against him as he swept a finger through her sex, and nipped at the skin of her neck, making her head collapse backwards. She tried to grind down onto his hand, but he held her still, "You see how your body responds to me, one touch and you're practically shaking." She wasn't shaking, much. Still, she scowled. He snorted with laughter, and pinched her nose, making her wriggle and struggle to get away, until she collapsed against him, and he finally let go, "That's better," he murmured, "Good girl," she'd meant to be annoyed but the praise always made her weak, and she dropped her head back onto his shoulder, letting him gently stroke up and down her ribs, across her stomach, and back to her ribs before slowly, carefully undoing the ties behind her, letting all the lace and silk fall, leaving her breasts completely exposed.

Cassian stepped away again, but returned moments later, tugging Nesta against his now-bare chest, one hand pinning her waist still, the other trailing up her skin, and her breath caught when he reached her breasts. He gently rubbed a nipple, then harder, earning a moan loud enough to escape past the gag. Nesta was already trembling, and she knew Cassian had noted it, she cursed herself for reacting so much to him, he'd hardly touched her, and she was already desperate. She ground her hips backwards against him, finding him hard against her ass,

"How should I take you tonight, Nesta?" He whispered in her ear, one finger sliding down her belly, slipping through her sex, "Here?" She nodded desperately, and he moved away, his finger moving to circle her ass, gently pulling at the plug "Or here?" She nodded again, she didn't care, she just wanted, needed his cock inside her. He kept moving the plug just enough to make her squirm, but not enough to offer any kind of release. Tears pricked her eyes again, "Stop that," he muttered, "Or I'll have to give to you something to really cry about."

Nesta froze, and whimpered softly when he tugged a little harder on the plug, before shoving it back into her. She squirmed again, trying to twist out of his grip as he rocked it back and forth, he held her still, pulling it out a little further, and she squealed. It had hurt when she'd forced it in, and her breathing sped up now as he slid it almost all the way out of her, stretching her to the threshold of pain. She squirmed in his grasp, dropping limp when he forced back in all the way. Each movement of the plug was pure torture, not enough, it wasn't enough, and she really was going to cry if he didn't do something more. She grabbed onto the chain, and screamed, but only partially in pleasure when he finally pulled it out. He didn't make any move to leave though, and she whimpered in fear when she felt it pushing against her ass again. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the pain-edged pleasure as he slowly, slowly pushed it back into her, before starting to fuck her with it in earnest,

"You can't even handle this, it's too big for you?" Nesta nodded, drool now dripping out of her mouth as she squirmed again, "How can you possibly hope to handle me then? Did you think about me when you put this in? Did you think about me filling that tight little ass?" Nesta moaned at the promise in those words, and Cassian finally pulled the plug away, painlessly this time. He tossed it aside, and circled back in front of her, a hand walking down her body to her sex, "I think I'll fuck you here first though." He leaned closer, kissing along her neck, her jaw, his hands still exploring her body. Still, it took her by surprise when he quickly pulled the remaining silk away, and shortened the chain, so that she couldn't reach the floor at all, she whimpered, hanging still, forced to wait for him.

She pulled herself up a bit, holding on to the chain, her breathing coming fast and shallow now. Cassian traced a finger along her jaw and released the straps of the gag, tossing it aside, and she gulped down air, panting even as he squeezed her waist, kissing along her jaw, then her face, until he reached her mouth, kissing her deep and hard while he unbuckled his belt. Nesta moaned into his mouth as he kicked his pants off, and wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer into her, deepening the kiss. She nipped at his bottom lip, and laughed at his groan, a hand sliding into her hair and tugging, hard. She gasped, and he held her head still, his tongue still moving alongside her own, gentle, but claiming at the same time.

Slowly his hands trailed down her side, moving to cup her ass, to hold her up, releasing the pressure on her wrists, and she kissed his shoulder, moving up his neck, along his jaw as he lined himself up with her. She dropped her head into his shoulder when he slammed into her in one go, letting out a long moan,

"Cass," she whispered, gripping the chain above her head tighter as he slowly pulled out of her only to slam back in to the hilt, again and again. She moaned at each movement, and hooked her feet together behind his back, she needed him close, and he knew it. He cradled her head with one hand, holding her up with the other as he thrust into her, their combined moans breaking the silence around them. Nesta buried her face in Cassian's shoulder, rubbing the blindfold away until she could look up and see him. His hair was messy, the leather tie almost falling out with every thrust he made into her, and his eyes were blown with lust. She met his gaze, and he grinned, slamming his hips against hers particularly hard, making her see stars,

"Wait." He demanded,

"But-"

"You wait for me," Nesta gaped at him, he couldn't be serious, he'd teased her, touched her slowly, and now he wanted her to hold off her climax, she wouldn't do it. "Nesta," he warned, feeling her start to clench around him, "Wait." Only the pure command in that tone made her force herself to stop, and he raised an eyebrow,

"Yes, Sir," she whispered, but again started clenching around him, no, no, no, she couldn't stop it, he'd punish her if she came now, but she couldn't hold it back. Tears welled in her eyes as she tried to stop it, but failed, any moment now, just another second and she'd come. Cassian bit down on her collarbone, the slight pain halting the rising pleasure and letting her step away from the edge, if only for a moment. She moaned again, and screamed when he shifted his cock inside her. "Please," she whispered, "Please," Cassian gave her everything, everything she didn't know how to ask for, until she was shaking uncontrollably, until tears were flooding down her face and she was screaming out his name at every slight movement. Finally he whispered the words she was desperate for,

"Come for me, sweetheart. Together." White filled her vision, and she screamed loud enough that she was sure without the soundproofing charms the whole of Velaris would have heard her. She clenched hard around him, and he spilled into her at the same time, his hips bucking quickly into hers as he shouted her name.

When Nesta's vision cleared, Cassian was still inside her, his face buried in her neck, still clinging on to her, his wings practically limp where they drooped onto the floor. Nesta twisted her wrists, but Cassian lifted his head, and kissed her again, slowly, lazily, as if they had all the time in the world, but, she supposed, they did, they had forever. She smiled when he pulled away, and pulled out of her, lengthening the chain, and setting her down on unsteady feet. She practically collapsed into him when he released the cuffs, and swept her into his arms, aiming for the bed.

Nesta shifted on the blankets as Cassian fussed over her, gently cleaning her up with a washcloth, grinning sheepishly at the bruise on her collarbone where he'd bitten her,

"You'll struggle to hide that one,"

"Maybe I don't want to hide it," she mumbled, opening her arms for him, and snuggling into his chest when he leaned back against the headboard, holding her against him. Cassian's wings curled in around her, and Nesta sighed happily,"I love you," she muttered, the darkness cocooning her in a bubble of safety with him.

"Nesta."

"Mhhhhm,"

"Thank you. For tonight, I needed this."

"I know." She pulled back just enough to look him the eyes, and brushed his hair away, out of his face, and kissed his cheek gently, resting her face on his shoulder, communicating her love the only way she really knew how. He kissed the top of her head, and squeezed her tighter against him, "I wanna braid your hair," she mumbled, "It's pretty,"

"I know it's pretty," Nesta twisted to look up at him, grinning at the laughter dancing in his eyes, she sat up and reached to grab a brush from the bedside table, "Not now," Cassian muttered, placing a hand over hers to stop her, and grabbed the brush himself. Nesta sighed and let him push her back to a sitting position, and winced when the brush found a tangle from when he'd grabbed her hair earlier, "Sorry," he muttered, but continued until her hair fell in a cascade around her shoulders, "There. Beautiful." Despite herself, Nesta flushed, it didn't matter how many times he called her beautiful, she'd never quite believed him, but he made her want to believe him, made her believe that she was beautiful, that he really thought so.

She didn't complain when he got up to tidy everything away, her eyelids were starting to feel heavy, and she barely registered when he picked her up again to put her into bed properly, pulling the blankets around her while he cleaned up. Nesta was just falling asleep when Cassian slid into bed beside her, and she crawled onto his chest, mumbling goodnight before drifting off to sleep in his arms.

#fanfiction #fanfic #nesta #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #nessian #cassian #aftercare #smut #smut with feelings #nessian smut #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #a court of silver flames

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darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years

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The Dark Team (part 11)

<<Previous part Masterlist Next part>>

Warnings: Cookies and idiots. You might get diabetes.

N/A: I'm on a family trip right now so I'm being a little unactive but I'll do my best to be still updating on here. Thank you so much to everyone who reads and comments, you truly make me want to write twice as much.

The Dark Team: (Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @the-departed-potato, @jesuswasnotawhiteman, @idontknow296, @beksib, @spythoschei, @geekwritersworld, @whatafuckingdumbass, @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 @toe-vind-ek-jou @joscelyn02, @t00-pi )

“Are you sure that’s how you should be sending those?”. His nosy ass telling you how to do your job in your midgardian electronics was just amazing, truly. “It would be faster for them if you send it with that link instead of…”.

“Listen, Mischief”, you interrupted his unnecessary corrections “I don’t tell you how to levitate, what about you don’t tell me how to do this?”.

“I don’t levitate”.

“Not the point. This is my deal. Besides, since when and how do you know how to handle midgardian tech?”.

“I… I’m bored”.

“Do I look like an entertainment to you right now?”.

“What do you mean right now? Are you planning on entertaining me later?”.

“I will choke you if you keep doing that”.

“Do you promise?”.

"Yes, my dear".

"Can't wait, then", he smirked. You rolled your eyes, about to answer something snappy, but the work was more important at the moment.

Your phone beeped, pulling you out of the very one sided discussion. You went back to your work in silence, getting your full focus and concentration on it. If it weren’t for Loki, you would’ve already done a thousand more other things. But, as a bug on the lenses, he was stuck to your side. It seemed like you were babysitting him.

Peter was staring at the roof from the couch. A pile of homework laid by his side, untouched, and his unlocked phone seemed to be waiting for him to make a call he didn’t want to. Loki observed him, unsure if it was a good idea to ask. You looked at his uncertainty from over your shoulder, and watched him finally give up on the idea of socially interacting with the kid, sitting down by your side on the big, big (and, exaggeratingly pointing out, big; yet he sat in the nearest chair from you) table.

The compound certainly was a boring place when uninhabited, and the sun was already teasing with coming down, making the common room’s lights turn brighter and warmer. Maybe it was automatic, maybe it was Friday. You couldn’t care less, for you were too distracted by Loki’s gaze on your work.

“Loki, for fuck’s sake, would you stop staring, my dearest?”, you asked, imitating his tone of voice, hoping it’d make it less aggressive and a bit more fun. He rolled his eyes and smirked, understanding your intentions. You sounded as tired of him as you were.

“I’m...”.

“Bored, I know. What about you go entertain Pete? He looks equally, if not more, bored as you. And you’re interfering with my work, which I do not appreciate very much”.

“How am I supposed to entertain him? I’m not a clown”, he argued, slightly offended but just wanting to make time and conversation. You sighed.

“Then why do you act like one?”.

“What is that supposed to mean? Is that a midgardian insult I’m not aware of, pancake?”.

“Stop calling me that, it’s not derogative”.

“It wasn’t intended to be deroga…”.

“I’d kill for some pancakes”, interrupted Peter, trying to pull you two out of your quarrels. “Or something sweet”.

“Oh, the kid got peckish. This is perfect; you can go get him something sweet and leave my workspace alone”, you said, patting his back with an exhausted grin.

He rolled his eyes, but walked down to the kitchen looking for whatever could satiate Peter. There wasn’t anything. One would think that a billionaire would have the fridge full of chocolates, wouldn’t you?, he thought, exhausted by the idea of having to actually leave the compound to get him something. Last time he tried to buy something in Midgard, he accidentally paid three salaries to the workers in the name of Stark. He was so embarrassed, he said it was on purpose and called it an act of mischief. But it was, in fact, pure and raw unawareness of midgardian’s use of money.

“What about we bake something, Mr. Loki?”, proposed Peter, with a flaming interest in seeing what those magic hands could do with food. You chuckled, pretty sure they could do nothing; he had been a prince for over a thousand years, when could he have learnt to bake by himself?

Loki lowered his gaze, confronted with both thoughts of his companions, and their respective expectations. Truth was, you were right. But he couldn't disappoint the kid like that, he had to at least try. Peter's eyes shone brighter than ever, and you wondered if Loki was actually enjoying his company. They looked fine. And, finally, you had some space to work without distractions.

“In normal circumstances I’d reject you, spider boy, but since y/n seems to be about to hang me by the neck on the tip of the tower, might as well do this”, he said, stealing a glance at you and smirking.

“It’s an honor you decide to spend your last moments baking with me, Mr. Loki”.

“Sure, let’s go, child”.

“I’m not a child”.

“Alright”.

And just like that, they left the working area and moved to the kitchen. Both rooms were connected by a huge glassless window and a counter, so you were able to peep in and make sure they didn’t actually burn down the compound (which was the only rule Tony had) and work peacefully at the same time.

After what seemed like an eternity, they still couldn’t accept they were failing miserably, and kept stirring the mix in a bowl. Flour formed clouds around them as Peter sneezed it away, and Loki’s hair had some cream on his (now not so) impeccable hair. Peter laughed at Loki’s commentary and poor baking skills, and Loki playfully mocked how his stickiness wasn’t helpful at all.

“Have you ever baked before, Mr. Loki?”.

“I haven’t but I’ve seen people bake, I figured I could imitate them”.

“Your mum, right? I used to bake with my aunt May a lot, but just now I realize maybe she was doing everything and I was eating the dough by her side”.

“That sounds more like it”, he chuckled. The mixing bowl trembled in his hand as he got distracted by the flying eggs coming at him, and it slipped out of him, smashing near half the mix onto the floor. “Oh, fuck”.

“It’s fine, we can use the one that’s left!”.

“Your positiveness astonishes me, spider boy”.

“Spider man”.

“Right, apologies”.

“We have already put in the flour, the sugar, the eggs, the milk… What else is in the recipe?”.

“I’m trying to remember, let me see”, he closed his eyes and muttered to himself “they used cinnamon, I think. And maybe butter? Yes, and chocolate chips”.

“Who?”.

“Ah, this recipe isn’t my mum’s. She didn’t bake either, you know, Queens don’t get their hands dirty” he laughed. “It was my companion’s”, he spat and suddenly realized what he had said. He lowered his head and sighed.

“Your companion?”, asked Peter. “As in partner? A spouse?”.

“Not spouse, just… you know, I’m just realizing I shouldn’t be talking to you about it”, he brushed it off, absolutely regretting it. Because Peter, unlike any other person, lacked filters.

So he would ask and ask and not realize where to stop. And at that point you could say Peter had become some sort of a weakness in Loki’s roughness. Peter was the softest, purest and better intentioned person he had ever met (or at least that’s how he saw him; of course, Loki had never seen him in action, fighting crime), and Loki was incapable of actually denying things to him. It didn’t matter how much Peter insisted on not being seen as a child, Loki was a thousand years older.

“No, please do. Now you’ve caught my attention”, he insisted, trying to clean some of the dough from the floor. Loki sighed, watching how the kid begged him to tell him more from his feet. “Please, Mr. Loki, I swear I won’t tell”.

“Well, my lover was the one who used to cook for us”, he explained as if he was telling someone else’s story. He clearly was trying to disengage his own emotions in order to tell them out loud. “And they’d usually bake some kick-ass cinnamon cookies”.

Peter had to grab the counter to steady himself from laughter, and you couldn’t help to snort at the conversation you were indiscreetly eavesdropping. Loki smiled.

“Then we have to replicate them, if they’re so kick-ass to make you say a midgardian expression”.

“We must, but I can’t remember quite well the next steps. It’s all sort of a blur now”.

“Can’t we ask them?”.

“No”, he said quickly. The air tensed, and untensed as fast as he realized. He especified again, trying to sound less affected by it “we can’t”.

“Oh”, Peter sounded so disappointed, Loki’s heart broke a little. “Are they dead?”.

“Oh my God, Pete, you can’t just ask…”, you intervened, trying to save Loki from further discomfort.

“It’s okay, they’re… well, they’re gone”, he said with a soft voice, raising his eyebrows as who tries to explain to a little kid why their fish is upside down, leaving to the imagination the typical trace of sadness that would follow. His eyes focused on the mixing bowl, reminiscing another time, another way. Eyes of someone who tries his best to never forget the little details from someone who’s not here anymore, because memories are all he has left. He immediately snapped out of his thoughts and tried to play it cool. “But guess who’s not gone? This dough on the floor. Let’s clean it up, kid”.

“Gone as in dead?”, insisted Peter, who had a very poor self control. You would’ve grabbed your face with eight hands if you could.

“Peter, don’t…”.

“Yes, they’re dead. Inside a coffin, rotting, getting eaten by worms. You know”, said Loki, this time jokingly, trying to scare off Peter. But it didn’t work, since Peter just kept asking about it. Loki was already too tired of having to take his brain yet again to places he didn’t want them to be.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Loki. Must be very painful”. The empathy in his eyes gave Loki the hint that he was not only being sincere, but curious about Loki's life. Interested, engaged. Not just morbidly curious, but wanting to get to know him better. Unfortunately, Loki couldn’t allow that. He would have to get the mission done, not make any friends, and go back to Asgard as alone as he came. It was the deal, the price he had to pay, the invisible handcuffs, the imaginary rope tying around his neck. Tightly, tightly, tighter.

“It’s alright, it was long ago”.

“Was they Asgardian, like you?”.

“I’m not actually Asgardian. I was raised there, but I’m from Jotunheim”.

Loki managed to move the conversation further than his lover (which he regretted highly to have brought the subject in the first place), and Peter got more and more interested in confirming how many of his mythology stories were true or not. The kitchen was the warmest place in the whole compound, and something started to smell like burnt sugar.

“So you did actually make Sif, Thor’s wife, bald? And did he make you go get her a wig in Svárthelfeim?”, he asked at the speed of light, and Loki laughed.

“Lady Sif’s not actually Thor’s betrothed. And no, I didn’t make her bald”, he said, and then muttered “she just happened to have a very low quality shampoo”.

“Ah, the cookies!”, Peter turned off the stove and took them out carefully, as to not get burned (again).

Loki peeped through the window to check on you. Your head, laying tiredly over your hands, seemed to be about to give up on you out of exhaustion. You haven’t slept properly since the mission started, and you couldn’t get your head off work for a moment. He approached you from behind and left a fresh cup of coffee and a couple of warm cookies by your side. You smiled at him gently and thanked him. If it wasn’t him you were talking about, you could’ve swore he blushed.

You have gotten so tranquil after one simple gesture, you hoped to get all your nerves down before going to sleep. Maybe it wasn’t that bad to have been stuck with them in the compound. They seemed to be having a good time, and Loki had nothing on his mind more than to have a rest after such hectic days.

“How long until you finish there?”, he asked with a low voice, a raspy, almost groany voice, that made you want to shut your computer down and throw it out of the window. You didn’t, instead, you checked your clock.

“Very soon, I’ll join you guys in a bit”.

#loki #loki fanfic #loki fic #loki headcanon #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x gender neutral reader #loki x avenger!reader #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki friggason #mcu loki #peter parker #y/n

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scoutpologist · 2 years

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i literally found the fic youre talking about a few days ago and its. actually really good?? like theres also a sbi one that got rly popular that ive read and its also really well written and like. despite being a hannibal au its really good. like obviously of course not condoning the actions irl but in fiction its a cool story/au. also @/itsallfutileallpointless the fic is awesome and if you havent you should go find it for sure (idk if @s work in asks lol)

@s do work in asks! also i've been wanting to talk about it, but i think nbc's hannibal works so well because it's so disconnected from real life. the characters feel unreal. not in a bad way, but in a good way. no one in real life would react to their situations the way the people in the show do. it would be impossible to replicate the actions or even really WANT to replicate the actions of hannibal lecter not only because of how wildly and openly horrific they are, but because they'd be impossible to do in real life. however, they're not SO impossible as to pull you out of the story or make you stop taking it seriously. honestly it's very well written and the escalation (when i mean this shit gets ridiculous I MEAN IT. jesus christ season 3 was a fever dream) was done very gradually and very well. by the end of the show you're living in a completely different world. the show is good! it's a good show! it's fucked up and aggressively pretentious but it's a very good show.

also drop the link for the sbi one, i can't remember if there were any specific hannibal sbi ones, but i do remember one where wilbur is like. a ghoul and serial killer of some sorts while still being a sympathetic character which was very interesting. i found a tokyo ghoul au (ghouls eat people if you didn't know that) but i didn't like that one because it was dark sbi + Morally Correct tommy or whatever, which isn't my style personally.

#ask #anon

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calliecat93 · 3 years

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When I started TNG, the biggest curiosity I had was why Dr. Pulaski was so hated. I heard plenty about why, but at the same time I wanted to see for myself and be able to draw my own conclusions. Well now that I’ve finished S2, I think that I can safely state my opinion and the reasons why she had such a bad reception.

My general opinion is… Pulaski’s fine, but she got an bad start. She’s a very competent doctor who is devoted to her duty. She’s a bit of a smartass, but otherwise a friendly enough person. She’s a VERY much based off a certain CMO form a certain other Star Trek show that came out before this one, but we’ll get to that later. Pulaski honestly had a lot working against her and she just wasn’t able to get over them despite her actress Diana Muldaur (who played Miranda Jones in TOS) doing an excelent acting job. It ultimately ended with Pulaski being dropped all together and Crusher returning in Season 3.

While I understand the hate against Pulaski and can’t say that it’s unwarranted to an extent, I think that a lot of it that I saw was overblown. Now if people disliked the character, that’s fine. Everyone has different tastes and reasons for what they like and dislike and should be free to have and express those thoughts. But a lot of the issues with her that I had were taken care of very early on and she became much better by the end of her tenure. So why do I believe that Pulaski ultimately failed? Well I’ve come up with three explanations based off my own observations from watching the show and what I got from fandom consensus. Now this is all my opinion based on those observations and is not objective fact whatsoever, so take this with a grain of salt. So I believe the reasons that Pulaski failed are:

#1. She Is Essentially a Female Dr. McCoy… Sort Of: Pulaski was clearly heavily based on Dr. McCoy from TOS. She’s an middle-aged, somewhat world-weary doctor. She’s stubborn, grumpy, and doesn’t put up with anyone’s crap. She’s witty and always ready with a biting comment. She has the dedication to her job. She has the bantery relationship with the Science Officer, which we’ll go into that here soon. She is a doctor before she is an officer and that will always be her top priority, even at great risk to herself. She has a zero tolerance towards authority and isn’t afraid to talk back to anyone no matter how much they outrank her. She even outright has a hatred of teleporters that McCoy had. The parallels are all there. It may be why I’m a bit more lenient on her since McCoy is very much my favorite character in TOS and so far all of ST. But I think it is very much the root of the problem.

While Pulaski has several of McCoy’s traits, I think the writers really only understood McCoy on a surface level. They forget to include his compassion, his empathy, his humanism, his loyalty to the captain even when he opposes his actions, all of the things that make McCoy… well, McCoy. I don’t even know if the pacifism is there. Also McCoy had over 70 episodes of TOS and at that point five films (Undiscovered Country hadn’t been made yet). Pulaski had about 20 episodes and her relevance depended on the episode. McCoy had that as well, but he also had more material so we had FAR more time to get to know him. Pulaski didn’t get to have the time to gain that depth or care from the audience. Like… can I imagine Pulaski hypoing someone so that she can be tortured in their stead and it have the same impact that The Empath did? Can I see her counseling and assuring Picard if he’s having doubts like McCoy did for Kirk in The Ultimate Computer (okay tbf that would be Troi’s job but still)? Could I imagine any of the main cast being crushed about Pulaski dying of a terminal illness and choosing to stay on essentially a doomed spaceship with someone she just met and feel as gutted as I did in For the World is Hollow…? Honestly… given time maybe but in the end no. Now could I imagine McCoy risking getting an aging illness to possibly cure a child and others of it ala Unnatural Selection? Yes, albiet I think he’d be smart enough to bring protective equipment with him to be safe. Could I imagine McCoy telling someone like Data they’d be wrong to sit by a woman giving birth because he wasn’t human ala The Child? Hell no. Maybe he would if he was worried it would cause potential distress the one giving birth, but it sure as hell wouldn’t be because they’re an android. But I could imagine that someone who just saw McCoy as ‘grumpy doctor with a bad bedside manner who says witty lines and argues with the logical Vulcan character’ would get that interpretation. Thus why I think that Pulaski may have ended up how she did.

Now mind you I do think it IS a double standard to excuse McCoy’s dickish momemts and flaws, but demonize Pulaski for her’s. It’s like saying a man can be that way because it’s just expected of them and they can be forgiven, but a woman doing so or being assertice is wrong and they are horrible and unforgivable for having these traits or having flaws even if they correct them. That being said I do think that it’s more than that and it all comes down to the fact that TOS and TNG are two different shows with different character dynamics and ways of doing things. TOS mainly followed a Triumvirate (for the most part but that’s a different post entirely), TNG is much more of an ensemble. Pulaski didn’t have a Kirk nor a Spock to bounce off of or either let her traits shine or be kept in check like McCoy did nor did she really develop any unique relations for herself aside from maybe with Troi. We hear about her empathy and humanitarianism, but we don’t really see it on-screen like we did with McCoy. She has his surface level traits, not the deeper ones that the Triumvirate dynamic along his doctor position allowed him to showcase. In other words, Pulaski was put in a series that wasn’t designed for her while McCoy was exactly where he needed to be in order to thrive. It really speaks to how much the TNG writers didn’t really seem to get McCoy or why and how his character worked, which is strange since they got him right when he showed up in the series premiere. But maybe that was due to DeForest Kelley and him absolutely knowing the character he’d played for so long. But yeah they tried to replicate McCoy, and it just didn’t work with TNG’s already established character dynamics nor did they fully get the character that they were trying to recreate. If I want McCoy, I’ll go watch TOS or AOS. I didn’t need Pulaski for that.

#2. Data and Misconstrued Character Dynamics; This is in relation to the first reason and REALLY shows how much the writers didn’t think the dynamics through. We all know how much Spock and McCoy bantered. How they are opposite ends of the spectrum and how their perspective points helped Kirk in making his decisions. Well clealry they wanted to re-create that with Pulaski and Data. Makes sense, Pulaski represents the humanism and Data the logical. But there’s one big, BIG problem with that: Data is NOT Spock. A lot fo people have pointed this out, but here’s the thing about Spock. Despite whatever he may have said, Spock DID have emotions. He kept them suppressed due to the issues in his upbringing and that wasn’t necessarily healthy, but he did have them. And despite speaking in a calm manner, he was also an utter sass bucket, could be rude, and had no issue putting down humanity if he had a point to make. He and McCoy were very much equal in their bantering and yes maybe McCoy could go too far with his insults, but there was always an equal balance and Spock was also perfectly capable of starting/escalating their spats. There were also plenty of moments to show that in spite of it, they were still friends and cared a great deal about each other with probably the best examples of this being The Immunity Syndrome, Bread and Circuses, The Empath, and plenty of moments in others like Miri and For the World is Hollow… Those who have been following me know how much I love the Spock/McCoy dynamic and I could go all day, but the point is it’s a complex relationship that may seem like disdain on the outside, but is so much more when you examine it up close.

Data however? Data is intelligent and the Science Officer with a calm demeanor, but that’s about where the similarity between him and Spock ends. Data is an android. I do not believe that he is emotionless, he just has a different wiring that causes him to feel things differently. He’s never shown disdain towards humanity at least from what I’ve observed thus far. If anything, he actively seeks to understand it and emotions more. He actively has hobbies like Sherlock Holmes. He tries things like sneezing and growing a beard in an effort to understand more. Data is more or less a child with a child-like understanding of things and he doesn’t really understand social cues or things like humor, but he DOES have emotions and feelings. There’s too much on-screen evidence to say otherwise. He just has his own way of processing it. This is what makes Pulaski look so bad. When she calls Data a machine, says he can’t understand, and even purposefully mispronounces his name, she comes across as an outright bully. She is essentially bullying a neurodivergent child. Do I need to explain why that’s awful? Data, while by no means a doormat, isn’t the type to sass back or make any biting comments back like Spock would. There is no balance. There is no equal footing. There are not enough positive interactions outside the banter to show that there is something deeper there at the end of the day like Spock and McCoy did. Heck you can even compare how Pulaski and McCoy talk to Data via McCoy’s guest appearance in Encounter at Farpoint. He DOES make a quip about Vulcans when talking to Data and when Data points out he’s an android not a Vulcan, McCoy mumbles “Just as bad.” But immediately after he gives Data genuine heartfelt advice on treating the Enterprise with care. It’s clear that ultimately it’s McCoy being his usual grumpy self who’d be acting the same way towards anyone else and is otherwise perfectly civil and encouraging to Data. We’ve known him long enough to know this. Pulaski didn’t have that luxury, coming off as condescending towards Data at best and considering that she’s a doctor, it looks especially bad.

Now to be fair this only lasts for about four episodes. Pulaski does start catching herself by her second episode, and stops completely after Unnatural Selection when Data helps her and stays with her after she gets the aging virus. After that she’s MUCH moe civil to him, even defending his choice going against the Prime Directive in Pen Pals and was at his retirement party in The Measure of a Man. But clearly the damage had been done. Data is a very beloved character and by Oulaski’s intro had already been established and well-liked character. Data was treated equally and was valued as far more than just an android among the rest of the crew, Crusher included, so Pulaski coming in a season later and acting that way also didn’t help. The writers did not think through why Spock and McCoy worked and how to try figure out a unique dynamic for Pulaski and Data. Instead they just tried to copy TOS, and it utterly failed. It ruined Pulaski’s chances before she could even really start running. But I do believe that she could have rebounded and as I said, she DID get past it. She did relapse some at the end of the season in Peak Performance to the point I wanna say that maybe it chronologically happened earlier in the season, but even then she felt realized her screw up and apologized. It’s still an improvement from early on. But things just weren’t meant to be, which leads is to…

#3. She Only Lasted One Season/She Replaced Dr. Crusher: I believe that the biggest thing that worked against Pulaski is simple: she was cut after Season 2. Pulaski was created when Gates MacFadden left the show. I’ve seen conflicting reasons as to why, but regardless she left and a CMO was needed. IDK how popular Crusher was, but I had really enjoyed her. She was essentially the mom of the ship which added something different from TOS (wel McCoy was also the mom lets be real XD), had a son onboard which also added something new, was very much capable and devoted to her job, and was a badass when she got to use a phaser. Her being written out sucked, but that’s not necessarily a reason to hate Pulaski. But as I highlighted above, she just didn’t work. They tried to make McCoy, but without the dynamics and depth that let McCoy flourish. TNG is not TOS. Whenever TNG tried replicating TOS like with The Naked Now? It blew up in their faces. The key to a spinoff or reboot is to keep certain themes and tone alive, but to not just replicate what came before. TNG flourished when it began to find it’s own footing, and ultimately lasted four seasons longer than it’s predecessor due to it.

I genuinely believe that Pulaski COULD have developed into her own character and could have found her place the same way that McCoy did. But alas that didn’t happen. People wanted Crusher back, so they managed to get MacFadden to return and thus Crusher was put back in her rightful place. Because of it, Pulaski was just forgotten about. She didn’t get the chance to form her own character. She didn’t the chance to develop further and leave her early days behind. Why? Because she simply wasn’t given the opprotunity to do so. I can’t say it was the wrong choice, but it’s an utter shame because I do believe that Pulaski was on her way to improving. But it was too late. Her bad start with Data, her character not working in the TNG dynamic, and her replacing an already perfectly likeable character who did fit the dynamics all amounted to the character’s abrupt end. And because she didn’t get the chance to develop further and find her own path, her bad reputation has stuck to this very day.

In the end, the whole thing just feels like a waste. Pulaski had potential, but it just didn’t work in the end. I can’t say that I hate her. If anything, I feel bad for her. The writers failed her at the end of the day and by the time they tried correcting their errors, the audience had already made their judgement. It may have been for the best to just drop her and bring Crusher back, but I also hate seeing character potential just so utterly wasted. I hope that if any side material used Pulaski, they were able to find a much better direction for her. I can’t say that I love Pulaski. In a more TOS-like setting maybe she’d have worked better. But in the end I think that Pulaski was a decent character who just had too much working against her and they caused her to crash and burn. Just an unfortunate case all in all.

(Image Source)

#this is all mainly opinion so feel free to ig kre

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twiceblackvelvet · 4 years

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Cooking 101

request; Can I request something based on Chef Yuri where Yuri is trying to teach Y/N how to cook but she ends up almost burning the kitchen down? Y/N feels bad but Yuri thinks it’s the most hilarious thing to happen? Thank you!

a/n; thank you for this request anon, i had a lot of fun writing this. but i’m also taking it as an opportunity to say sub to yuri’s youtube channel you cowards! hope you enjoy!

tw // mentions of food.

It’s safe to say that cooking is not your forte. It never has been. The whole concept is something that you struggle to comprehend. The chefs you see on television or read books from always give a very thorough description of how to create a certain dish, the ingredients necessary, include the exact measurements and yet, what you end up would be better compared to something a dog may enjoy rather than haute cuisine.

There have been several instances where you’ve gotten lucky to even survive your time within a kitchen, honestly. But, for some bizarre reason that you’re scared to find out the answer to, Yuri has decided to offer you a lesson in creating what she called “simple dishes”. You’re not so convinced they will be.

The pristine appliances are the first thing you notice. The oven and hob clean enough to see your reflection in it. Various utensils line the walls hanging from hooks. Pots and pans all of the different shapes but all clean as a whistle. The counter-tops are made from wood and currently sporting an abundance of ingredients from fresh vegetables. poultry plus a rack of more spices than you’ve ever borne witness to.

“It’s nice, right?” Yuri asks from behind one of the counters. Her smile is wide with excitement as she removes a few tomatoes from the fridge beside her.

“Yeah, it’s pretty. Scary… but pretty.”

If you were to be honest with her, looking at how tidy everything is and how it’s decorated down to the smallest detail such as having framed recipes here and there on the walls, you’re rather worried that once you’re done it’s going to look like a scene from an action movie after the two main characters burst through glass windows to fight one another.

“Wash your hands and we can get started,” She points you over to where the sink is and you hesitantly head toward it. “There’s no reason to be scared, I’m going to be right here with you every step of the way.”

“You haven’t seen me cook before, Yuri. It’s the stuff of nightmares.”

“Well, I don't scare easily.” Her smile fills her face this time showing off her adorable cheeks you can’t help but smile back at. “Here, I brought along an extra, figured you don’t own one, what with your poisonous skills in here.”

Her right-hand holds out an apron toward you, pink in color with small yellow flowers dotted around the material. The one Yuri is sporting is similar except blue with red flowers. Trying to tie the straps around your waist even proves to be difficult which should have been a sign for Yuri to make a run for it there and then. However, she instead snakes her hands around your waist from in front of you and easily laces a knot with the strings to firmly hold your apron in place.

The proximity of her body and face to your own is more nerve-wracking than anything else and there’s a chance you may end up killing both of you off by the end of the day if anything is under-cooked or burnt to a crisp.

“Okay, so we’re gonna try three different courses, that way you’ll always be able to at least cook three dishes for any occasion, right?” Her enthusiasm is not matched whatsoever as your hands begin to involuntarily shake out of panic. The smile on her face fades as she takes notice of your nervousness. “Hey, come on, how bad can it be?”

“I could kill us both, burn the entire building down, you know? That sort of thing.” Yuri simply chuckles and moves back toward the fridge, this time removing peppers.

“You won’t kill us, come on. Let’s get started!”

For the next hour, that feels more like six, Yuri tells you about her influence from the different cuisines around the world, how she became so interested in cooking and about the story behind each meal the two of you will be attempting to replicate today. All in the calmest voice imaginable. Her hands quickly get to work on chopping up various vegetables, offering you the knife at one point only to have to guide you into doing the correct motion and not the “lose your fingers” style you had tried to do it with as she had called it.

The two of you eventually get started on the actual cooking portion of the day beginning with Hors d’Oeuvres, which turns out to be surprisingly easy, though it is the smallest dish of the three. Tuna and red pepper mousse tarts, which Yuri plates up to look elegant, which you learn is a skill in itself.

“Give it a try.” She says upon finishing up making everything look aesthetically pleasing.

The first bite immediately transports you elsewhere entirely. You’re sure that you can see stars and definitely can’t wrap your mind around the fact that the two of you, well, more so yourself, have managed to successfully make it. You never doubted Yuri would be able to do it. But yourself? There must be a glitch in the simulation somewhere.

“It’s amazing, you have to try it too!” You excitedly shout pushing the plate of food toward Yuri who has patiently watched your face contort with pleasure from the taste.

She quickly grabs one of the tarts for herself and joins you in salivating over how fresh it is. The two of you gush for a few more moments, happily enjoying the starter of your cooking experience. Maybe, things won’t be so bad after all. Or, maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

“Okay, so next, I want us to try roasted squid. So, why don’t you prepare the potatoes and chorizo whilst I work on the squid, deal?”

“Sure, sounds good.” You say with a little more confidence than previously.

You easily get to work on cutting up the potatoes and placing them into a pot of simmering water. The knife easily glides through the chorizo whilst using the technique that Yuri had showed you just earlier, and begins to sizzle away to itself in a cast-iron skillet she had pulled off a hook on the wall for you. It’s fairly easy this cooking thing, you think, perhaps all of those fears had been for no reason and that the right teacher was all you needed all along.

Yuri decides to turn on some music as the two of you work separately. It’s soothing and makes you feel calm and helps to erase any anxiety that was still lingering deep down. If cooking had been like this all the time, you’d have started a lot sooner and could have become a master chef by now. But alas, cooking alongside Yuri feels like a good exchange.

A few more minutes of stirring the chorizo idly, you realize why you were offered this job as it doesn’t take a lot of effort nor attention. It just hangs out in the pan casually making a few noises now and then, but other than that, it’s easy.

Well, it would have been easy, had you not allowed your mind to slip away for a little while too long and not noticed that the previously simmering water the potatoes were left in had now boiled and the lid had begun to shake from the pressure with all of the water threatening to spill out of it and burn not only yourself and Yuri, but also destroy all of her hard work to have a clean, non-burned kitchen.

“Yuri, help!” You panic yell toward her, the water beginning to bubble over the top of the pot now.

“Just turn the heat off.”

Now, whilst your ears had heard her say those words as she too had used the same panicked tone your voice had decided upon. For some reason, your body is incapable of moving or doing what it is that she had asked you to do at that moment. The fear of potentially being scolded simply too great and so she’s left to quickly dive halfway across the kitchen and save the both of you from any harm, turning off the heat herself.

“Are you okay?” She asks, concern replacing the panic. Your hands return to shaking briefly but quickly calm as she pulls you up to offer a warm hug and tell you that everything is okay. “Come on, let’s have a break, huh?”

A table placed away from the kitchen allows the two of you to have a breather away from the chaos that just ensued. Yuri places a glass of water in front of you before she joins you at the opposite end of the table.

“I’m sorry.” You apologize.

A small smile graces Yuri’s lips before she responds. “For what?”

You turn back to look at the kitchen and animatedly try to encompass the whole thing with your hands. “For that, just now.”

“Don’t worry about it, no one died… yet.” she jokingly brushes off your concern. “Plus, I was the same as you once upon a time, cooking takes patience and time to perfect.”

“I’m not sure I have the patience.” both of you laugh at the admission but Yuri once more brushes it off.

“Sure you do, we just may need to hide all of the potentially dangerous utensils and appliances from you.”

“So… all of them?”

The two of you continue t laugh at your less than desirable cooking experience thus far. Soon enough, you’ve finished the glass of water she had given you and Yuri rises from her seat opposite you.

“Come on, let’s get back to it otherwise you never will.”

“You still want me in your kitchen after that?”

She smirks as she looks at your intensely keeping eye contact even after you have shifted your own eyes away briefly for a small break from her gaze.

“Of course, dessert is always the best part o the meal.”

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astoldbygingersnaps · 3 years

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#wip wednesday

since the latest chapter of star trek au continues to elude me (i swear to GOD i’ve been working on it; it’s about 2/3 of the way done and should hopefully be posted in a few weeks), i figured i’d go ahead and post a snippet of one my next projects, a fic i very briefly mentioned in my end of the year wrap-up post: the jurassic world au.

this is an idea i’ve always wanted to work on as a) a HUGE fan of the jurassic park franchise and b) a person who spent years as a dog trainer who was both puzzled and horrified by the raptor training in that movie. while this will probably be The Most Niche Fic of all my Very Niche Fics, i’m super happy with it so far and hope other people will be, too.

currently this project is sitting at about 18k and i’d like to have it completed, edited, and posted within the next few months. until then, enjoy this preview!

Itachi has never been the kind of person that believes in fate. As a boy his father had drilled the importance of hard work into his head, and it had been a lesson Itachi had carried with him long after he realized the man’s guidance wasn’t actually worth all that much. It wasn’t luck or good fortune that had led to Itachi many successes in life. Truthfully, fate had always seemed like a childish concept to him, an excuse for people to hang their hats on when things went wrong in their lives and they weren’t willing to take responsibility for their own actions.

That said, it’s hard for Itachi not to feel some sort of cosmic influence is manipulating his course in life when one day Uchiha Fugaku summons his eldest son into his office at the heart of Isla Nublar. Given his position as the puppetmaster of InGen, it isn’t often that his father actually finds himself on the humid and sandy shores of Jurassic World. But every time he does Itachi feels a familiar, childish pull of anxiety, a little voice in his head that drives himself to push himself to succeed, to please. It’s as if the last four years Itachi has spent almost single-handedly managing this glorified amusement park suddenly vanish in a puff as he meets his father’s judgemental black gaze.

“Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me,” Fugaku tells him, waving a hand to silently order Itachi to sit. And, as always, Itachi obeys his father’s commands.

“It’s no trouble, Father,” Itachi assures him as he settles into the immaculate white leather chair that no doubt costs half of his yearly salary. “Was there something you needed?”

“Yes and no,” Fugaku replies, which is fittingly ominous for the man. “I wanted to discuss a recent change that Hiruzen is implementing to the park.”

It takes an extraordinary amount of restraint on Itachi’s part to keep his comments regarding the CEO of Jurassic World and the sheer effort he spends weekly cleaning up the man’s air-headed messes to himself. For all the years he’s lived on the island--first as a boy while his father built his career, then as an intern after college, and finally as yet another cog in the Jurassic World machine--he’s regarded Sarutobi Hiruzen with an almost bleak sort of awe. It was shocking to Itachi that a man would possess such power and wealth, yet seem almost clueless when it came to maintaining that empire. Then again, he thinks dryly, perhaps all rich and influential men were nothing more than fools in the end.

Unaware of Itachi’s thoughts on the matter, Fugaku continues, “As I’m sure you’re aware, the board has been planning for sometime now to come up with a new attraction to boost both ticket and merchandise sales.” Of course Itachi is aware of it; it had been his idea in the first place. But, like most of his suggestions regarding Jurassic World, it had been thoroughly steamrolled until a man with more money and respect to his name could repackage it as his own brilliant, brand new invention. Which, as it were, is exactly what Hiruzen is planning to do. “The project has been in the works for a while now, but it’s going to be quite controversial. We thought it best to keep it under wraps until we were certain it was viable.”

“I take it you’re certain now?” Itachi asks, and Fugaku nods.

“We’ve had great success with the assets we’ve created so far, but as long as this park has been in construction there’s been one species that we’ve been unable to successfully replicate. Unfortunately, it’s also the one species that every dim-witted tourist that sets foot on this island is looking for.”

A chill works its way down Itachi’s spine as he guesses, “Velociraptors.”

It’s an idea that’s almost too macabre to even contemplate, let alone execute. For better or worse, the general public’s more than aware of the chaos and bloodshed that led to the destruction of the first park. It’s a shroud that lingers over Itachi’s everyday life, as no matter how hard he tries to maintain order and prioritize safety there will always be someone who looks at him as if he’s a capricious madman.

Because of Jurassic Park’s spectacular failure, the image of the velociraptor--a brilliant and ruthless predator stalking the shadows, picking men off one by one--has captivated the average person’s interest in a way that no other species has. So, ever since that original park, Jurassic World has been chasing the holy grail of a fully operational, successful, and controlled raptor exhibit--and, considering the way his father is currently speaking, Itachi’s sure the board has finally captured that elusive golden ticket.

“You’re correct,” Fugaku says, though at this point the admission isn’t necessary, and with careful muscular control Itachi holds back a frown. Perhaps this is the reason why no one decided to share this information with him despite the fact he’s the Operations Manager for this entire establishment; given the way he’s previously spoken about subjects such as animal welfare and reducing employee hazards, perhaps they sensed he wouldn’t exactly be on board with the wild idea of releasing one of the world’s most dangerous beasts onto the Earth again.

Either way, regardless of his own personal feelings on the decision, Itachi intends to oversee it with the same attention to detail he brings to any other project. “It’s a risky move, but it could prove to be quite lucrative if executed properly,” he eventually replies, evenly as he’s able. “I know in prior years other raptors were bred, but they were culled because they proved to be more trouble than they were worth. What’s changed since then?”

“According to our geneticists, the sequences on the upcoming crop will give them a reduced level of aggression and increased agreeability, though to be honest I’m not convinced that isn’t just smoke and mirrors.” Bleakly, Itachi’s inclined to agree; there was a world of difference between breeding a dog for temperament and trying to strip millions of years of prey drive from a wild--and previously extinct--animal. “Given that I’m not completely sold on their claims, it’s more a question of who has changed than what.”

As if on cue, a knock arrives at his father’s door, and in seconds the visitor’s face appears in the frame. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” the man says--at least, that’s what Itachi thinks the man says, because the sight of him alone causes Itachi’s brain to spontaneously stop functioning.

“Not at all,” Fugaku responds, completely unaware of his son’s inner turmoil. “As a matter of fact we were just discussing your contract with us.”

“Must have been why my ears were burning,” the man replies, his smile broadening into a full-on grin the moment he catches sight of Itachi positively dying in front of his father’s desk.

If there was a god in this world, He would open a hole in Fugaku’s freshly steam-cleaned carpet and let Itachi fall to his demise. But clearly there isn’t, as instead of time ceasing entirely it drags on and leads to Fugaku announcing, “Itachi, this is Uchiha Shisui. He’s an expert in the growing field of paleo-behavioral studies, which makes him the ideal candidate for rearing the velociraptors and readying them for the public.”

“We’ve met,” Itachi all but chokes out, clearing his throat to expel the sudden lump that’s formed in it. From the other side of the room he can see Shisui fighting a laugh, and in that moment he wishes Shisui would fall in a hole and die, too.

“Really?” his father asks curiously. “I didn’t know you two were acquainted. How do you know each other?”

While his positions at Jurassic World and in life have allowed Itachi to conquer a variety of challenges, there’s not a single skill or experience that has prepared him for this moment. Because Itachi has no idea how to explain to his father that the reason he knows this man is that he slept with him four years ago and never returned a single one of his calls or texts.

“It’s a long story.”

#my fic #shiita #like i said before: this fic is essentially just a 90s romcom and i'm loving every second of writing it #alexa already has some Very Good art on the backburner for this au that i can't wait for her to drop #so stay tuned for that too

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feminist-propaganda · 3 years

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The Star Wars Saga Is A Meditation On Single Motherhood

It recently dawned on me that the entire story line of the Star Wars saga is built on the lives, loves and tribulations of 3 generations of single mothers. There are monsters to slay and aliens to find and planets to explore, yes, but if you think about the powerful message in the movies, you’ll come to realize it was mostly a reflection on the status of single mothers, the outcomes of their offspring, and the conflict that lives forever in their descendants.

Each trilogy, once reframed, becomes the story of one woman, who finds herself in a situation that is as old as time. She is with child, but the person who planted the seed in her is not by her side.

Shmi Skywalker or The Good Single Mother

In the Phantom Menace, Jedi Knight Qui Gon Jin meets Anakin Skywalker, a slave boy with a talent for repairing machines. The Jedi knight is impressed with the child’s abilities. He’s knowledgeable, intuitive, and most importantly he’s also kind and thoughtful. When a sand storm threatens the group of travelers, Anakin takes them to his own home and offers them shelter.

We meet Shmi Skywalker, who in many ways is the archetype of the good single mother. She is not just quiet. She has completely erased herself. She has no personality, apart from being Anakin’s caretaker. She expresses no needs, no desires, no dreams. She simply loves Anakin, and when she sees an opportunity for him to leave the desert planet ruled by the Huts, she doesn’t stand in his way.

In a now famous scene, Qui Gon asks her about the child’s origins and Shmi famously responds “There was no father”. The line continues: “I carried him. I gave birth. I raised him. I can’t explain what happened”.

The immaculate conception myth refers to the idea in Christianity that Mary, much like Shmi, was impregnated by some magical force, a holy spirit. Both are parabols: images we use to discuss painful topics. Single motherhood has probably always been a part of the human experience. Jared Diamond explains in “Why Is Sex Fun?” that in terms of evolution, it is more rewarding for human males to be “super spreaders “ rather than “good fathers “ . The “good father” gene does not pass down to future generations, because in effect, not sticking around to raise the child is a better strategy for a human man to pass on his genes to the next generation. Not convinced? Just count how many women have been impregnated by a rapper like Future (8 last time I checked). If you’re not into hip-hop, you can think of the offspring of the Mongol Genghis Khan

The purpose of the parabol is to provide an image, to extract ourselves from the technicalities of onr person’s story and to instead talk about all single mothers at once. Indeed, single mothers come in all shapes and sizes. Some are widowed, some are abandoned, others are lied to, and some run away from abusive environments.

Shmi raises her son the best she can, and her love for him is unconditional. She doesn’t bat an eye when he is freed while she is to continue her life as a slave. She doesn’t even seem to mind when Anakin leaves the planet and never returns to free her, even after he marries into some serious money.

But the story of Star Wars tells us that Shmi’s relationship to Anakin, because it was so fusional, because it was all that he had, led to his undoing. In Episode 2, when he senses she is in danger, he jeopardizes his mission to protect Padme to go rescue her. When he eventually finds her, he is so upset about her ultimate death that he commits mass murder, targeting the Tuskan riders of the sea of Dunes.

When Yoda first lays eyes on Anakin, he senses Anakin’s pain, he is just a child whose been ripped away from the only human that’s ever cared for him deeply. The turmoil inside the boy is palpable, and Yoda advises against training him.

Padme Amidala or The Bad Single Mother

Anakin develops feelings for Padme, and in Episode 2 the pair decide to secretly get married in the lake district of Padme’s home planet Naboo. Their relationship is very intense. Both share a strong sense of civic duty: Padme was elected queen of the Naboo when she was just 14 & Anakin is a keeper of the peace. They care deeply about issues such as how the galaxy must be governed, how much action needs to be taken versus when diplomacy must be prioritized.

Their strong sense of service has made them lonely young people. They’re far away from their families, surrounded by advisors, servants and droids - not friends.

They jump into their relationship with an eagerness that suggests it is their original caretakers they crave for.

Padme becomes pregnant while the Clone Wars are raging, and immediately Anakin begins to experience trouble with his sleeping. He imagines Padme is dying in childbirth, and the visions haunt him during the day. His fear that she will die ultimately leads to his decision to join the Dark side of the force. Senator Palpatine has manipulated him into believing that Sith Lords have discovered the power to prevent death itself.

Just like his mother before him, we need to look at Anakin’s story in terms of symbolism. It isn’t really about his specific experience with fatherhood : it’s about the universal conflict that men feel towards their own offspring. Even the way it is announced to him, in the Senate chambers, barely hidden from the rest of the Coruscant elite, implies some sort of entrapment. The columns around them seem to be like a cage that is closing in on his life. He is in the middle of the Wars - he should be celebrating his victory over General Grivious, but instead he is stuck with his wife and he has to absorb her anxiety & reassure her.

Anakin makes a weird, forced smile and says : “This is a happy moment.” But neither Padme nor the audience believe him. Nothing about him feels happy, he isn’t relaxed: he is tense.

At the end of Episode 3, Anakin attempts to kill Padme when she condemns the mass murders he’s committed against the younglings in the Jedi temple. Hr uses for the first time his “strangling” trick, which becomes his signature move in the original trilogy.

Palpatine makes Anakin believe that he’s killed Padme, but the truth is somewhat more nuanced. She dies of heartbreak shortly after giving birth to twins. For anyone who thought this was corny, it’s actually been proven by the scientific community that heartbreak reduces your life expectation (it diminishes the size of the telomeres in your body cells, which is the molecule that helps replicate your DNA).

As Lisa Feldman Barret wrote in How Emotions Are Made:

Emotional harm can shorten your life. Inside your body, you have little packets of genetic material that sit on the ends of your chromosomes like protective caps. They’re called telomeres. All living things have telomeres—humans, fruit flies, amoebas, even the plants in your garden. Every time one of your cells divides, its telomeres get a little shorter (although they can be repaired by an enzyme called telomerase). So generally their size slowly decreases, and at some point, when they are too short, you die. This is normal aging. But guess what else causes your telomeres to get smaller? Stress does. Children who experience early adversity have shorter telomeres. In other words, emotional harm can do more serious damage, last longer, and cause more future harm than breaking a bone

More severe cases involve patients actually dying of a broken heart, the myocardia just collapses under the weight of the sadness the human feels.

The original trilogy should be re-viewed with all of this new information we have. In the 80s, when Empire Strikes Back came out, the “I am your father” line became instantly iconic. But the plot twist was more like an “Oh My gosh!” moment rather than a profound reflection on fatherhood. The audience sympathized with Luke not because his father had been absent and negligent, but because his father’s job was to serve a fachist leader. It was the actions of Darth Vader as a political servant that were questioned, not his refusal to nurture a smaller being.

Padme is the opposite of Shmi. She is the archetype of the “bad” single mother. The bad single mother is the single mother who can’t deal with the situation and checks out of it. She collapses under the weight that she feels on her shoulders. She can't get over the heartbreak, she can’t find the will to live.

Society tends to punish the Padme’s just as much as it praises the Shmis. Television programs like “Teen Mom” are set up to shame the young deviants into adopting the correct behavior. The purpose of the show is to judge these young women into becoming self-sacrificing mothers.

Leia Organa - The Non-single Single Mother

Leia Organa is Anakin Skywalker’s daughter. She is raised by an adoptive frailly on Alderaan after she’s separated at birth from her brother Luke. Much like her mother, she becomes a dedicated public servant, a trusted leader and a beloved public figure.

She is raised by a wealthy family in the central galactic systems. The Organas teach her the ways of the elite political class. As an adult she serves the cause of the Rebels, and when she meets Han Solo in Episode 4, the mediocre smuggler fascinates her.

In the now famous scene from Hoth in Episode 5, Leia declares her love for Han Solo right as he’s about to be frozen in carbonite. The ultimate bad boy responds his chilling, because realistic “I know”.

Han is nothing compared to Leia. He drives a broken down ship, doesn’t have any morals or even a simple code of conduct, much less a cause that he’s dedicated his life to. He has nothing to offer her, and is definitely not in her league. But still, in Episode 6, the pair become an official item.

The last Trilogy was an opportunity to explore Leia’s experience with motherhood. By now we know that Leia’s grandmother was a “Good single mother”, she completely sacrificed herself to protect her son & more importantly she never questioned her status of sole caretaker (remember the “there was no father“ line). We also know that Leia’s mother was a public servant, and a passionate woman who allowed herself to fall deeply in love with a sensitive young man with a non existing support system. Leia’s mother was the “bad” single mother: driven only by her career (Queen of the Naboo, later a Senator of the Old Republic) she did not step up to the task when her destiny revealed itself to her.

Leia seems to share her mother’s taste in reckless young men with a lot of attitude and no emotional security to offer. It’s the excitement she craves, not the tranquility.

Her fate will be the same as her foremothers. She has a child with Han, but when she sends him away to be trained by Luke, she loses them both.

Their dialogue in Episode 7 goes like this:

Han Solo : Listen to me, will you? I know every time you... Every time you look at me you're reminded of him.

Leia : You think I want to forget him? I want him back.

Han Solo : There's nothing more we could have done. There's too much Vader in him.

Leia : That's why I wanted him to train with Luke. I just never should have sent him away. That's when I lost him. That's when I lost you both.

The last trilogy develops Leia’s character in a way that allows her to be something else than just a single mother. She loses her husband, she even loses her son to the dark side: but she never loses herself. Leia doesn’t allow her condition to define her. She becomes a leader of the Resistance even if it means going after her son’s New order.

In Episode 9, Leia even destroys her son to protect Rey - the symbolism is that she’s overcome her role as a mother, she’s rejected the notion that she must sacrifice everything for her son even if it goes against her own self interest (like Shmi). She also rejects the idea that her partner abandoning her is the end of her. It isn’t. Unlike her mother, she finds the will to live, and to lead the next generation of freedom fighters and peace keepers.

The saga ends on a hopeful note for all of us single mothers out there. It comes with a message for us : we don’t need to choose between the austere Shmi and the weak Padme. We can instead decide that this “single mom” problem is kind of like beauty : it lies in the eyes of the beholder.

Single moms don’t need to think of themselves as failures, they don’t need to live in modest conditions, they don’t need to beg society's forgiveness for merely existing. They don’t need to be ashamed.

Single moms don’t need to erase their brains and their lives, and sink into an ocean of denial either. They don't need to be obsessed with their careers or caught up in romantic entanglements that are only going to exhaust them.

Single moms can just decide that they’re women, with beautiful, inspiring personalities and kind, loving hearts. Mothers are first and foremost, the leaders of the young, the protectors of the realm and the makers of the future. It’s not that it doesn’t matter that they’re alone. It’s that they don’t have to be alone at all.

#single mom #star wars #padme amidala #leia organa #shmi skywalker

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need-a-fugue · 4 years

Text

In the Beginning - Chapter 5

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Summary: He knew how to hide, how to either fit in seamlessly with his surroundings or lean back into the shadows to escape detection. He knew how to get around without money or supplies. He knew how to get any supplies he may need. He knew how to evade and how to disappear. What he didn’t know – from the moment he pulled Captain America’s body from the Potomac – was what the hell he was going to do now.

Warning(s): some angst, some emotional and mental turmoil… nothing big

A/N: This is the first story in a series I’ve been working on for awhile (Supernova), an AU wherein Bucky Barnes gets the girl, and a chance at a new life.

“You know what telomeres are?”

Bucky just stares at the back of her head as she speaks. Over her shoulder he can see her computer screen, presumably showing the results of his bloodwork. It had taken him nearly two weeks to agree to let her stick him. In his experience, nothing good ever came from having a needle jammed in your arm. But she kept telling him that genetics were her specialty and she could do more to help him if she knew more about his building blocks, whatever that meant. So he finally relented, sitting so still that he barely breathed as she carefully inserted the needle – See, barely a pinch – and filled two vials with blood.

“No, I guess you probably don’t,” she says, still scrolling through the information on the screen. “Or wouldn’t. Why would you?” she asks, whipping around in her chair to finally face him. “Right?” She smiles at him, like she so often does. He likes her smile. Not that he’d ever admit that. It’s not really an engaging smile, a hi, stranger, how you doing? kind of smile. It’s more playful, like the two of them are sharing some kind of joke. Only he never actually knows what that joke is.

He continues to stare at her, almost through her, as he says simply, “No.”

She pushes across the lab in her wheeled office chair, grabbing onto the metal counter in front of him to stop herself. She looks up at him and exhales a deep breath. “Okay,” she starts, folding her hands together and leaning on the countertop. She eyes him a little more intensely and raises a single brow. “You could sit,” she says, some annoyance in her voice.

He knows that she hates it when he just stands there in the lab or the clinic – looming, she calls it, stretching the word out with bitter irritation. It makes me nervous. He likes that it makes her nervous. He likes that he can actually do something to make her nervous. She never seems intimidated by him or afraid of him. And quite frankly, that makes him nervous.

He grabs the stool next to him and sits down on the very edge, his body poised to spring up and into action at a moment’s notice.

“Right,” she starts again, her shoulders relaxing. “Telomeres are like protective endcaps for our DNA. Think of them like the little plastic pieces on the ends of shoelaces.” He cocks his head and raises his eyebrows at her, and she gives a slight chuckle. “They keep the laces from getting frayed.” He nods once – okay, go on. “Every time a cell replicates, the telomeres essentially shrink. This is normal. This is aging. The older we get, the more our cells replicate, the shorter our telomeres become, and the less stable those cells end up being. Our skin becomes less elastic. Our organ function declines. Our neurons fire less rapidly. And eventually we die.”

She looks into his eyes to make sure he’s following. As per usual, he doesn’t say a word, offers only a nod in response. “Well,” she goes on, “there’s this enzyme – telomerase – that can actually elongate telomeres, so to speak. It’s largely absent in our cells, but for stem cells. And Cancer cells, the little bastards. Anyway, your cells have a shit ton of telomerase in them.”

He looks at her and confusedly asks, “Cancer?”

“No,” she shakes her head rapidly. “Cancer is really nothing more than aberrant cells taking over the body. Your cells are completely healthy. And because they have telomerase in them, they can continue to divide, well, inevitably. Maybe. Probably not quite. There’s probably still some limit. But, in a nut shell, your cells don’t age.”

His eyes shift away from her face, look out at nothing while he processes the information. “How?” he asks finally.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. There are some similarities between your cellular structure and Steve’s. He’s filled with telomerase too. So I imagine that this is in reaction to the serum. It could be part of what leads to your rapid healing. See, in order for your body to heal, new cells have to form. New cells come from old ones, from replication. To heal as fast as you do, as fast as Steve does, the cells have to replicate at an astronomical rate. By introducing this enzyme into the mix, they’ve ensured that the cells can reproduce as often as needed while still maintaining full continuity. Smart, really. I mean, considering that we didn’t even realize the importance of telomeres until decades after you and Steve, well, died.”

“So,” he starts, his face still twisted with confusion, “what does that mean? For me?”

Again she shrugs. “Means you’re impervious. Genetically speaking.” She gazes at him for a moment, her face softening. “It means you’ll age slower than the rest of us. You’ll heal faster, which you already knew. And you’ll be able to maintain healthy cell growth, which means you likely won’t ever get Cancer or any sort of degenerative disease. Congratulations on that.”

He lets out a quick sigh, makes eye contact with her again, says, with a bit of lilt to his voice. “Well at least there’s that.”

She laughs softly, still holding eye contact. It’s rare that he actually looks at her. More often than not, he simply watches her when she isn’t looking and then averts eye contact as soon as her eyes meet his. Or he’ll stare straight through her. When he actually looks at her like this, though, these are the moments when she can see what it is that Steve’s been fighting so hard to save. These are the moments when she can see the man buried inside the soldier. “You’re a lucky man, Bucky Barnes,” she says to him with a grin.

He scoffs. “I hate when people call me that.” She quirks her head at him and wrinkles her brow quizzically. “Bucky,” he says simply. “I hate when people call me that.”

“Because you don’t remember being him?” she asks.

He shakes his head and lets his gaze fall from her face to the floor. “Because I’m not him,” he says with a sigh. “I’m just not.”

“Should I call you Mr. Barnes, then?”

He laughs suddenly, an odd sort of gasping cackle. It sounds like he’s unsure how to laugh, like his body may have actually forgotten how to make the sound.

“You’re a Sargent,” she corrects herself, coy smile perking her lips. “Sargent Barnes?”

He looks up at her, his eyes bright in a way she’s never seen. And this time, when he meets her gaze, he doesn’t look away. “Call me James.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x original #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes x oc #bucky x original female character #bucky x oc #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #avengers fanfiction #super

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memoriashell · 5 years

Text

this attraction between us

Characters / Pairing: aegestra + some background edelgard/bernadetta

crossposted on ao3

Notes: i would highly suggest that you read this on ao3 because this is 10k words long and i cannot imagine that looks great on tumblr.

just to note, since this is set post canon, there is absolutely some spoilers in here, probably? this is the part where i admit i've yet to experience the black eagles path in full, so some details are probably a little off.

Summary: edelgard asks hubert to try out a different kind of magic. admittedly intrigued, he agrees.

( and then things get way more complicated for him, because ferdinand accidentally makes himself a test subject )

( these are feelings that cannot be replicated: this is a sentiment to how i love you )

The sound of metal scratching against parchment repeatedly catches his attention first— breaks his concentration as he stares at the source, before opting to ignore the emperor’s odd behavior. Heels clicking against the tile floor after a moment of silence is the second thing to key him into knowing something is off, feet tapping in what he can only gather to be anxious behavior.

Hubert prides himself on understanding— being able to read the empress, a skill he considers highly crucial to anyone with a position as high as his. And yet, despite that, he cannot tell what is bothering her in this moment. What it is exactly that makes her hesitate instead of speaking her mind to the extent she usually would with him, he cannot be conclusive of entirely ( but he can only assume that he is the cause of her anxiety, a stinging realization, for he is not sure what he has done to cause such, but masks his feelings as such is irrelevant to the matter ).

“Your Majesty.” He clears his throat sharply to get her attention; her reaction is delayed, but it gains her attention all the same. It will not do either of them good to think in circles, lest they fail to accomplish anything. While he would like to hope she would come speak of it in time, hoping is not very efficient (or effective); that is the only reason he insists on taking matters into his own hands. “You do not like it when I keep things from you, as do I towards you—” Hypocritical of him to say so, when he will do so anyways, when it means keeping her safe “— and while perhaps it is something you cannot speak to me of, I would like you to know you may speak to me. I would like you to...” He falters ( it is not about what he wants, after all ), follows with a slight shake of his head. “Well, I would prefer if you were not carving into the table with your quill. It is not like you to be so distracted.” He gestures with the end of his pen to where her hand has drifted from the papers and ink has begun to stain the wood. Her expression remains cool, but Hubert can read the subtle flush, the sheepish aversion of her gaze; he does not press as he returns to reading through the paperwork she has brought him. It is not in his place to ask anything more of her ( even if it was, he could not, he thinks— already, he considers apologizing for going too far ).

“If you...” When Edelgard speaks, it is so hesitantly soft and unlike her that he cannot help but give her his attention— even if she has had his attention from the start. “If you could find out...information, about someone without any consequence, would you?”

“Nothing comes without consequence.” He knows this, and he knows she knows this; and yet, she sounds so like a child again, a tinge of curiosity and innocence that they could not hope to hold onto in this world ( and he should not foster such emotions, but he does, and cannot help but indulge her a little, just like this ). “It would depend on the circumstance; do you not agree? If the information would be useful, perhaps it would be worth it. This does not sound like it is something theoretical, however.”

“No, it is not. I cannot hide anything from you, hm?” Edelgard is not upset, if not a little amused. “There are some books that the imperial family keeps as a part of a special collection. I think it’s supposed to be kept secret, though I’m sure they know it exists. I thought I’d check if there was anything there that would help with our...issues.” He’s surprised this is the first that he is hearing of it, all things considered— but there are things that he does not even know, he supposes, there will always be a few things she will keep from him.

“And I presume you were successful?” He doesn’t think there’s much more reason for her reluctance in coming forth with that information, even if he can’t pin down exactly why ( he has a few ideas, knowing his emperor, but he cannot be certain until he hears more from her ).

“It’s...this is not an order, you will not be forced to do this.” She says firmly, as if it has ever been an option he could consider ( it may not be an order, but if it ensures her safety— makes her happy, then it is his duty to see to it ). “I found some old magic books. Hexes, curses, potions...I don’t know how much of it holds up, nor am I certain if it would be in your area of expertise.”

Hubert snorts at that, as if that would have ever stopped him; his position has always asked more of him than he has had to give, and he will always give himself up for her sake. “Perhaps, perhaps not. It does not hurt to investigate, at the very least. It is your call, if you would like me to test that.”

“I already said that this is not an order.” She sounds mildly disconcerted, but he opts to ignore it. “It does not hurt, is that it? I shall bring you the spellbook later, then.” She’s quiet for a moment, then speaks again. “That wasn’t...er, that was not all, actually. Again, this is not an order but there was a particular section I happened to be intrigued by while checking if it had anything pertaining to our work.”

“And that would be?” He prompts, when she falls silent again.

“...There was a section on love spells.” She looks positively flustered, and if he were a lesser man, he probably would have laughed ( but he is not, so the only outwards reaction he gives is a slight raise in his brows ). “Don’t—Don’t get the wrong idea. Ever since I looked at it, I cannot get it off my mind. It’s tempting. Am I...wrong in thinking so?”

“Nothing comes without consequence. Don’t we have enough to handle as it is?” He says again, as if to remind them both of this fact, there is a country dependent on them not being distracted by trivial matters— while he wants to be against such a thing, all the same, he cannot help but feel intrigued by the prospect. Still, even as strict as he is with her, he cannot help but indulge her too; that is the excuse he will use for this.

( If he could confirm if his affections have any chance, or— no, he’ll do this for Edelgard and her sake only, he swears there are no selfish motivations behind it. His duties come first, and besides that, he does not have the same selfish excuse that she does. Time is not working against him like her life is ).

“If you have a particular place you wish for me to start with, then bring that one to me. I must, of course, run a test to ensure it will not have any adverse side effects, and report back to you with the results when I have reached a conclusion. I would rather not tarnish your name, should something happen.” He says with a note of finality and moves their discussion back to one of the matters they were supposed to be handling. “Now, with regards to the theatre hall...”

While it is, indeed, not quite the kind of magic he is used to, Hubert finds that it is at least a refreshing change of pace, if nothing else. An extra obstacle comes in the form of parts of spells being written in older runes and symbols he is not entirely familiar with, which requires some extra research to decipher them, but that is negligible. He is nothing if not devoted to his work, and it’s not like he doesn’t enjoy a good challenge ( Ferdinand is enough proof of that— there is no other reason as to why he would put up with such, and he thinks that feeling is mutual ).

Speaking of— he still needs a test subject for this. He had briefly, briefly considered posing it as a challenge and using Ferdinand for this, test a potion in his tea; it is not a course of action below Hubert ( has he not poisoned many a person before in a such a fashion? ), but he cannot find himself considering doing so in good faith. This isn’t about him, this is for Edelgard; he won’t let his own affections get tangled up in this. He is a little less averse to the thought of using the others, however, that is no different than what he usually does.

The sharp scent of fresh coffee is what pulls his attention back to reality, not the footsteps approaching him; and he figures it must be one of the servants because few others would consider entering his study. Hubert lifts his head as he reaches for his cup, and—

— gives a sudden jump as he nearly bumps into Ferdinand, hovering above him.

( Of course it is him, he thinks, very few others would invite themselves into his study; and he thinks so in a manner almost so fondly that it is frightening. Almost ).

“Is there a reason you must lean in so close?” He opts to forego any greeting— he doubts he even cares anyways— as he leans back and shuts his eyes for a moment ( if he seems flustered, neither of them acknowledges it ).

“To see what is keeping you.” Ferdinand responds, not missing a beat and goes on. “You were late.”

“Was I?” He does not think he has any meetings he is missing, before he understands what the other means. There is no set schedule, no precise routine to when they get together for their ‘tea time’ as it were; but there is an unspoken sort of agreement between them about it, and despairingly, Hubert realizes that he’s right; even over such frivolous matters, he does not like to concede that he is correct. He breathes in sharply, hand rising to his temple. “I— Forgive me, I did not realize...I will have to make it up to you another time.”

“Edelgard mentioned you were doing some research for her. I figured you probably were overworking and needed a break.” He’s right, but he refuses to acknowledge that; again, he is too stubborn to yield, that is how their relationship has always worked. A pause, and he hears a curious hum from the other. “Is this stuff for the crests? I could not read that book you have open.”

His eyes snap open and without thinking about it, he tugs Ferdinand away from ( almost quite literally ) sticking his nose into the brew he was working on. “No.” Hubert says firmly, and while he considers telling him the truth, he opts to keep it secret for at least the time being. “This is different, and I would appreciate it if you did not cause me to need to make an antidote for this quite yet.”

“But you could, I am quite sure.” There’s a hint of a challenge to his tone, an underlying warmth— he gives the other a very stern look in response.

“I’d rather not test it.” On you, goes unsaid; but perhaps Ferdinand is sharper than he seems and understands nonetheless, because he leaves the brew alone.

“But if it was for the crests, you would let me be involved, right? I do think I would be able to make myself quite useful as a test subject.” Or not. Hubert takes back any remarks on Ferdinand understanding anything; he’s not entirely upset, even if he disagrees with him— even competitively, his intentions are well meaning, despite not entirely appreciated by him.

“That would be Lady Edelgard’s call, not mine.” Which isn’t entirely false to say, even if he doesn’t particularly like the thought of using him like— that. Let him get involved once risks have been eliminated, but he knows better than to try and convince Ferdinand when he has his mind set.

Ferdinand quirks a brow curiously, and for a moment Hubert expects a callous remark on how he should not defer to Edelgard like that; but nothing comes and instead a hand is offered out to him. “Well then, shall we go out...outside, I mean. Sitting around in a stuffy room with whatever you’re making— surely, it will all get to your head if you stay here?”

He would usually be inclined to disagree but staying here means the noble will be more prone to poking into his things whilst he tries to work, which is not ideal when he has something that he can’t predict the side effects of on his hands. He sighs, putting out the fire beneath the brewing pot; accepting the other’s hand as he stands and takes a moment to steady himself from the dizziness that comes from suddenly rising after so long. He cannot remember how long it has been since he’s taken a break. “Only briefly, then. I have things to finish.”

“Briefly.” Ferdinand agrees, but they both know that it will not be anything close to short; he had already resigned himself to such the moment he’d been aware of the other’s presence. It is fine if he indulges himself in a break like this, he will just have to work longer later to make up for the lost time.

As he follows him out of the room, he can’t get the distinct feeling that something feels off but he can’t quite place what. Hubert is distracted from any lingering thoughts by a tug on his arm and fondly, he will mask his feelings and devote his attention to the other for the duration of the time they spend together.

He returns to his study refreshed and feeling much lighter; the only beneficial part to being around someone like Ferdinand, he would argue, is that his mood tended to rub off on people. His mood quickly dissipates when his gaze lands on his desk, which has gone and become a mess in his absence, and he hasn’t a clue why. At some point while he was gone, the brew had begun to bubble over, which feels like quite an ominous sign, and all sorts of things have been knocked down from his desk— a broken bottle of ink rapidly drying on the floor. He frowns and goes to close an open window before going to grab an old rag so he can begin cleaning up the mess. As he does so, however, he freezes in place, a chill down his spine.

He realizes two things with startling speed. One, the book is gone from the stand it’d been resting on.

And ( arguably ) more alarmingly, there is a stray hair in the brew mixture, the bright ginger color that Hubert can only presume means it belongs to Ferdinand von Aegir.

He takes some time to clean up while he mulls over these facts— more importantly, what to do about it. Once he has managed to gather his wits together and realize the terrible irony of the situation ( that for once, is not amusing to him ), he supposes that first, he’d best check up on Ferdinand. Which is easily done, since the only person who would have ever been easier to find is Caspar, out of virtue of being louder. He is momentarily derailed by tripping over a cat sitting outside his door, but doesn’t think more of it beyond one of the kitchen cats getting lazy.

True enough, the boisterous sound of his laughter is easy to pick out in the halls, and the sound of his footsteps thudding down alerts them to his arrival; Ferdinand is already half turned towards him, while Bernadetta takes one glance at his face before taking a hasty retreat ( he can’t tell if that means he must appear more or less angry than usual. Ah well ).

“Back already? Or did you need something important?”

Hubert ignores him as he stalks forward, jabs at his chest with his finger. “You—” He hisses and bites down on his tongue to pause, takes a breath to calm himself. Ferdinand was competitive, not intentionally screwing up with the results of his research, that was not in his nature to do— no use in getting angry. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Why, I did not know you cared.” He sounds amused— even jokingly, that stings a little more than he would like to admit. “Should I not feel all right?”

He gives him a steely glare— of all the times to not be serious. “Are you sure? Nothing feels different?” He doesn’t sense that he’s lying, but...he’s not certain if that’s a good sign or not.

“No different than any other day. Are you feeling all right?” Ferdinand leans forward slightly. “You were fine earlier. Did you catch a cold from being out? A heat stroke?”

“Never mind. Must have been wrong.” He grumbles, arms crossed— he’s uncertain how to feel about this, somewhere between disappointed and relieved by his lack of reaction. “Nonetheless, you will inform me if you feel any different.”

“You did something wrong? That doesn’t sound like you.” The frown on his face makes him hope that he’s taking him at least somewhat seriously. “Was that all? ‘detta was asking for help with some things...”

He grits his teeth. “Just. Promise me you will report to me if there’s any change.”

“I shall have a detailed report written up for you and everything.” As dismissively as the comment is made, Hubert has the feeling he means that literally, and can only stand in silence as Ferdinand walks away.

“One down, one to go.” He murmurs to himself and turns to head back down the hall.

Serving directly under the emperor meant Hubert was almost far too aware as to what Edelgard’s schedule was— and loath as he was to report failings on his part or involve her in such trivial matters, this one is not so simple to resolve ( well, he briefly had entertained the thought of killing Ferdinand and solving his affections once and for all, but that would still leave issues to be dealt with ). He takes care of other business that they have as he waits until her dealings are done for the day before he bothers her with the news.

“Lady Edelgard.” He greets her as he approaches, a stiff bow as he waits for her to acknowledge his presence. “I am afraid I have some unfortunate news.”

“I’m already terrified by how proper you’re acting.” She is teasing, clearly; and nods a head at him to continue.

“The tome of yours that I was borrowing has gone missing. I take full responsibility for the actions that have led to it. I have already made plans to search the grounds for it and interrogate the servants, but I am not certain it has remained here.”

“But would someone have wanted to steal it? For all they know, it is just a book.” She taps a finger to her cheek in a thoughtful manner. “Not that I don’t believe you. It isn’t quite like you to misplace things.”

“It was kept a secret for a reason.” He cannot conclude many other reasons for its disappearance in such a short period of time. “I also regret to inform you that we may need a new prime minister.”

“I thought you two quit quarreling ages ago.” Edelgard raises her brows at him. “Might you inform me the reason you say so?”

Years of practiced facial expressions help him keep his expression in checked, otherwise his flustered embarrassment would be almost painfully obvious. “He may have a hex on him.”

“I though we were testing love potions?” There’s a moments pause before her face twists in a slight grimace. “Ah, I see your issue. So he’s taken an interest in you, then? I admit, I’m not sure I would’ve expected this to be what you are upset about.”

She’s getting too much amusement out of his suffering, he thinks. “If only it were that simple. He says he feels no different, so...I am not entirely certain what happened. I would have just made an antidote to try and fix it, but without the spellbook I’m not keen on worsening things. At least for now he is still alive.”

She sobers up a little after that. “That is an issue, to say the least. Well, work on finding the book. We’ll figure things out as soon as we make more progress. Perhaps you can see if there are any experts to these kinds of matters?”

“We should have some contact that can gather that information for us. I’ll see to that it is done as soon as possible.” He nods his agreement and waits for her to dismiss him before taking his leave.

While he has other people looking into matters for him, he cannot just abandon his actual work to do so ( though arguably, Ferdinand becoming incapacitated would become a work related issue ). Nonetheless, he does not have time for lapses in judgement— weakening his guard in any sense. No, as long as those despicable people linger in the shadows, his duty to the emperor remains a priority.

Ferdinand never comes to him reporting any change, so he does not see him for some few odd days— if Hubert is purposefully going out of his way to avoid him, he does not admit so— does not make such easily apparent. Admittedly, he misses the presence of soft honey locks and the lingering scent of tea— he has no time for such sentimentality, to waste his time on pleasantries, and he is sure Ferdinand has hardly noticed his absence in any case. His only companion during this time is a cat from the kitchen that seems to have taken a liking to him— a rare occasion given such creatures usually flee at first sight, but it is a welcome distraction from everything else going on; if not one that makes him chuckle at the ironically fitting image that this nearly creates.

( Really, all it does is cement how desperate, how disgustingly pathetic he is. What a cold and lonely monster he’s let himself become— he cannot help but feel some sort of regret at a time like this. He wonders if before, he would have even noticed that he felt lonely ).

Hubert keeps himself busy with ‘work’ up until Edelgard pleas with him to not overwork himself ( which, he will acknowledge she has a point, he will be far more useless to her if he cannot do a thing ), though it still takes a thinly veiled threat for him to truly get moving. He compromises with himself by grabbing some papers to read through as he sits out in the courtyard with some coffee—he certainly needs the extra boost in energy disguised in his normal drinking habits.

He is not certain how much time passes— not much, if the sun in the sky is to be of much indication; but he is keenly aware of when he is no longer alone, raising his head and spooks Bernadetta in doing so. “Ah. It’s just you.” If he is honest, he had forgotten she was still visiting— ever the shrinking violet, she wilts when his gaze meets hers.

“I...sorry, are you— you’re busy, aren’t you? I don’t mean to bother...” A tinge less of self-loathing is present when she speaks, a marked change from the girl he remembers in years prior. He shakes his head, and gestures to an open seat.

“I am seldom not busy.” It is mostly true to say, and he waits for her to sit before resuming. “Has your business with Lady Edelgard gone well? I have not heard much about it.”

“Oh, yes, o-of course. It’s always a pleasure to work with her.” She says it so such earnestly that Hubert does not doubt it to be true ( it is only those who go against her ways that have any issue to take with her, after all ). “I was beginning to think I would not see you at all, actually. I, I didn’t even hear you sulking in the halls like you usually do when Lady Edelgard has her meetings.”

He considers pointing out to her that she had already seen him, that day with Ferdinand ( or arguing that he does not sulk, thank you very much ), but does not do so because more pointedly— “You were looking for me?” And her face pales a little as she claps her hands over her mouth, a rapid shake of her head— ah, right. He has to remember who he’s dealing with here, upon seeing how fearful she seems to have become ( it doesn’t sting so much these days, and yet stings more after all this time ). “Bernadetta. I am not angry with you.” He reassures; insulted perhaps, mostly amused, if a little pitying. “I am sure Lady Edelgard would not have minded passing on a message if that was the case. Or am I to assume this matter concerns her?”

“No— y-yes? I’m not sure.” There is a crease present in her forehead, expression apprehensive. “I...er, um...it’s about Ferdinand!”

Hubert raises a brow at her at her exclamation. “I am not certain what this has to do with Edelgard. Nor have I heard of any such issues about him.”

“That’s exactly the problem. You haven’t heard anything because you’ve been—” She pauses to wordlessly gesture at his paperwork. “He’s worried about you. You’ve been avoiding him...? That’s what he thinks, anyways.”

“I have done no such thing. It would be unprofessional, and severely beneath me.” He’s no stranger to lying, feels no guilt in doing to towards her ( that said, apparently Ferdinand is sharper than he gave him credit for. Unsurprisingly. He’s not sure how to feel about all this ). “He knows where to find me if he has any need for me.”

“Hubert.” Her mouth is pressed in a firm line, hands clasped together. “If I may say...you should really go speak with him. You act like you hate him, but you, uhm, you aren’t as cold as people think you are, really. Or as you think you are. Edelgard might tease, but she trusts you for a reason. I...” She pauses, floundering in her speech for a moment— he doesn’t bother to point out the flaws in her reasoning, for Edelgard’s trust only comes with knowing some of his secrets ( and that doesn’t even make either of them entirely good people to trust, arguably ). “It doesn’t even...even need be much. But I think it’d make him happy.”

It’d make him happy? Hubert can hardly stifle a snort at such a concept. It’d make himself happy as well— but since when was he whimsy to his own wishes? The only person’s happiness he cared about was Edelgard.

( Or at least, that’s how it had been— when exactly that had changed, he cannot be certain of; in any case, he cannot deny he is briefly swayed to listen to Bernadetta ).

But he does not, in the end. He will not outwardly acknowledge her thoughts, raising his cup to his lips with a hint of melancholy in his expression— the way she spoke so honestly, he can’t help but wonder if that was because of the emperor...it reminds him of her, anyways. “I see that your time with Edelgard has been well spent. I hope you’ve been as good an influence to her as she is to you.”

“H-Huh?” Bernadetta’s cheeks pallor as she jumps to her feet, hastily waving her arms about. “No! I do not think it is anything like that at all! Rather, I—” She comes to a brisk halt as she sits back down, face red in embarrassment as she twiddles her fingers. “Ah. Sorry.”

Hubert bites his tongue to not laugh at her, a twinkle of amusement in his gaze. “You are quite fine, Bernadetta. Please continue to do as you do, for both of their sakes.” He does not think he needs to elaborate as he stands, gathering his papers as he prepares to take his leave. Indeed, human emotions are fickle things— she is best to serve them in ways he cannot. That is how things are meant to be.

“W-Wait—!” He has only made it a few feet when she calls out to him, turns to peer back at her. “Hubert, I-I...” Her voice falters, as if she is hesitating on what to say. “Thank you.” He does not have anything to say to that, and regards her with a sharp nod in acknowledgement— he really is no good when it comes to such sentimentalities.

( As he turns to leave for real, he misses the way she chews on her lip and watches after him )

Despite Bernadetta’s best attempts at ‘encouraging’ him, Hubert does not make any attempts to approach Ferdinand— if anything, he goes out of his way to make himself more scare to find by leaving temporarily on other business, since he is not making any progress on things at home.

( These tarnished hands of his, having never belonged to the light— it only serves to reaffirm that he is doing the right thing; he should not drag down anyone else into the shadows he lingers in ).

When he returns to report their progress, Edelgard greets him with a cheery expression, Bernadetta accompanying him— she seems to take a particular interest in not looking at him, so he can’t help but feel a little suspicious ( nothing against her personally, he just doesn’t like the feeling he’s getting ).

“I have some good news for you.” He simply quirks a brow at her, nodding for her to continue. “We found the tome. And by we, I mean Bernie did—”

“I am so sorry!” Bernadetta interrupts before she can continue speaking. “I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t mean to hide it from you, but I didn’t, uhm, I didn’t know how to bring it up to you.”

Hubert has to think for a moment before understanding why exactly she’s apologizing. “You wished to speak to have spoken of it the other day, is that it?” Annoyance slips into his expression as he sighs, shaking his head at her. “I’m not that upset. Thank you for bringing it to us, nonetheless. May I inquire as to where you found it?”

“That doesn’t matter.” Edelgard speaks before she can answer his question. “There’s some bad news. I already started looking at antidotes.”

“Is there none?” He assumes the worst, naturally. “If that is the case, I apologize greatly for the trouble I have caused.”

“Was I not the one who encouraged your research?” She looks a little miffed, before shaking her head. “No, rather, the likely antidote requires an ingredient we do not find around here.”

“Send someone out to retrieve it, then? Or is it something that could be bought?”

“I considered that. However...I would like someone to check up on the territory it is from. Diplomatic matters.”

“So, that is to say...” Hubert has a feeling he knows where she is going with this, and he is not fond of it.

“I am sending the minister of the imperial household with the prime minister, of course.

“I cannot approve of such.” For multiple reasons. “It would not be a good move to leave the empire with less...guards.” That is an understatement— does she not think those people would take advantage of an absence like that? What she is thinking, he cannot discern; while she can surely take care of herself, that does not mean she should be left without protection.

“And thus, I’ve already seen to it that it would be taken care of so you would have no need to worry. Bernie’s going to extend her stay here, and Dorothea’s supposed to come report her findings soon as well. And as an extra precaution, I’ve already informed Byleth of the circumstances and asked them to be here as well. Think of it as a well-deserved break. You two have been busy as of late.”

He is almost surprised at how well thought out this all is. “You’ve planned this out well, I see. Have you informed Ferdinand as well, then?”

“He helped with planning, of course. I had to make sure there were no obvious flaws in my logic.”

He purses his lips, but he has no good reason to disagree with her. “Very well then. When are we to leave?”

“At your discretion. I presume you need time to prepare before traveling again, but I would like you two to be able to leave as soon as possible. I know you would like this all over as soon as possible as well.”

Hubert stops avoiding Ferdinand only to inform him that they will be leaving in two days’ time, then promptly returns to his room to pass out for the first time all week.

It’s not like Ferdinand to be so quiet. Not that Hubert, of all people, has an issue with it; which does not mean he is not concerned, even if he has no right to be, but there is a feeling right on the tip of his tongue that he cannot name. Indeed, it is silent between them until it is pointed out that they should stop for the night before it gets too dark and put their horses at risk. Tasks are quickly relegated— Ferdinand takes the horses since he is better suited to care for them, and Hubert goes to hunt for their dinner as he fares better in killing things.

( That feels more ominous than he would like it to ).

By the time Ferdinand has returned with two well-watered and mostly fed horses, he has managed to start a fire and begin cooking their meal.

“I forget you are not a bad cook. Smells edible, at least.” Ferdinand speaks as he approaches, sits himself down next to the fire— either he has decided to break the silence between them, or he’s trying to stay on his good side. He decides the difference is not really that important.

“Yes, well— unless you mean to say you’ve improved at cooking, I think I quite recall why you were never on cooking duty well enough to not subjugate us to that. As well as why I would only trust you with drinks. I like being able to tell my food was alive at some point, after all.” Hubert pauses to glance to the side briefly, when he sees the other leaning towards the flames. “Sit further back, Ferdinand. I have no wishes to deal with your hair catching on fire. Are you cold?”

“You don’t? Why Hubert, I would not have guessed you cared.” His bitterness is so scathing that he almost physically recoils— however, Ferdinand complies with his request and moves away from the fire (but closer to him in doing so). That is the fury he had been expecting to face eventually; the silent tranquil of their travels had been Ferdinand’s wordless fury from the start.

( Well, Bernadetta had tried to warn him in her own way— he had mentally prepared himself for this, it is only his fault that he had not chosen to take action ).

Despite that, however, Hubert chooses to deflect— if nothing else, he is good at doing that. “I don’t know what you are speaking of.”

“That is exactly what I mean.” Ferdinand sounds less bitter and more— tired? He cannot tell entirely of the unspoken emotion in his voice. “You might not be the most warm and open person around, but this is pretty low for even your standards. I think I quite miss the way you hated me during our academy days. At least then it was clear how you felt.” This is the most he has spoken all day, and he can only guess this is only a small part of what he has been stewing over for however long this has been bothering him. “I cannot tell if this treatment from you is because I have said something to displease you and this is your way of being angry now; or if something that I have done has irritated Lady Edelgard— but I must please ask you to give me some peace of mind on this matter before you choose to dispose of me.”

“I—” Any and all words that come to mind immediately die on his tongue as he stares at him incredulously. “I’m sorry?”

“You should be, but then, you do not even know what you are apologizing for, do you? I am not a fool, Hubert. Clearly, this was simply an excuse to be able to kill me without any witnesses present.”

( And yet, you still chose to come along without protest, believing that? Hubert cannot help the amused fondness that comes with that thought. Yes, you certainly are foolish, Ferdinand )

“I am not angry with you.” Is the first thing he manages to say, biting his tongue as to not snicker at him as he meets the other’s gaze. “Nor do I have any plans of killing you. It would be quite inconvenient to do so.”

“You...you are not planning to kill me?” He sounds so surprised that he almost balks a little. “Then what has been the reason for your behavior as of late? You have avoided me as if I had the plague!”

“No. Though I do admit the prospect was appealing...I am kidding, Ferdinand.” Mostly kidding, anyways— he is quick to add on when he sees the pallor of the other’s face ( he forgets that Ferdinand does not handle jokes well, to say the least ). “I...I do apologize. It was not my intention to give you that impression. I am not inclined to share details, but...some of the work I have been doing for Lady Edelgard has not gone well. I did not and do not intend to get you involved in such affairs, however, so I have admittedly made myself rather scarce as of late. Forgive me, it was a foolish thing of me to do.” He dislikes the way he makes himself sound much more noble than his actions have actually been.

“Yes, quite foolish of you.” Ferdinand murmurs with a hint of something— amusement perhaps, before clearing his throat. “Are we not equals, Hubert? I know there are matters your loyalty to Edelgard prevents you from speaking about, but I would think something as simple as wanting some space is something that could have been said. Do you not trust me to leave it at that?”

( No, they are not, that is what he wants to say; they are far from being equal. Even before the old rulings had been cast aside, disregarding their crests or lack thereof— no, they could not be on even footing, because Ferdinand would never stoop so low in the name of a noble, and Hubert would do everything in his power to accomplish their goals ).

“Of course.” He says, and well, that much is true— he trusts him some unspeakable amount. “I will consider it henceforth.”

“Please do. I would like to not have to question my livelihood in the future.” The corners of his eyes crinkle with a smile, even when his eyes do not meet his— hesitation laces his features. “I missed speaking to you like this, if I am to be honest.”

Thinking about it seriously, he’s not certain if he could ever actually go through with killing Ferdinand— it would not be a hard thing, and he would do it if Edelgard commanded him to do so. But could he live with that? It makes his chest tight to even consider, and he ponders when hands as disgraced as his has ever hesitated— when he got to be so soft over the thought of killing someone.

( Then again, it is not like he would feel like this for just anyone ).

“I—” Hubert hesitates, and in doing so notes a sharp stench and comes to the realization that is the scent of their dinner burning; getting to his feet to try and salvage it while he still can. Despite not saying it, it goes understood—I missed you too.

And even the ruins of their meal cannot put a damper on his mood.

They arrive in the neighboring territory late the next afternoon and spend it getting acquainted with the ruling nobles of the land and discussing between themselves what they need to get done for Edelgard. That is one of the easier things— even if Ferdinand will challenge his choices, it keeps them in check, assures that they are working towards the same goal.

Less easy is that with their presence brings an audience— the girls that stand from a distance as they giggle and ogle Ferdinand are bearable ( if not annoying, but understandable— it had always been a bit of an unspoken agreement that Ferdinand was one of the more attractive members of their class ). No, it is the faces that linger in the shadows that leave him less easy— he is fairly certain they are not a member of that despicable group, and concludes they are likely just people against the changes Edelgard wishes to make and are eying them, messengers of that change. He cannot blame them, for sudden change is difficult for people— all the same, he has sworn devotion to seeing her vision to fruition, so he cannot let such people blemish her view.

( The sacrifices made— well, perhaps they are not in vain, he would like to think ).

That said, they do not stay any longer than they need to, however. Neither of them like being away from the empire, even if the emperor is in capable hands. Hubert goes out of his way to gather the ingredient that they need, unbeknownst to Ferdinand, and once all their business has concluded, they make the travel back home. Traveling is much smoother this time, given that neither of them have any need to go out of their way to avoid each other— and it is easier when he does not need to be concerned about any silence.

Unfortunately, it does force him to think about other things, now that he has given up on purposefully avoiding him. The truth stares at him in the face, and yet— he cannot accept it. For all that Ferdinand has revealed, something does not add up. Is that the true nature of the hex he’d accidentally casted? He supposes that he won’t get the answer to that just yet, but as he mulls over it, he cannot help but feel like he’s missing something.

Some tactician he makes.

The ground next to him dips and a sudden warmth breaks him away from his train of thoughts. “If you are cold, I think the horses to be a much more suitable source to go to.”

Ferdinand shakes his head, scooting closer to him as if just to disagree with his sentiments. “The fire is good enough. I do not think I am going back to sleep, anyhow, so I thought I would offer to take over watching now.”

Hubert watches the way his hair is illuminated by the flames of the fire for a moment before responding. “Go sleep while you can. I can keep watch for a while still.”

“It’s okay. I shall just steal some of the coffee you have been hiding.” The way he mumbles his words makes it hard to tell if he is as awake as he claims to be.

“Do not expect me to pity you if you fall off your horse tomorrow.” He says plainly, and then it fades into silence between the two of them, having nothing further to say on the subject, both intent on staying awake. Hubert briefly entertains himself by glancing upwards, at the sky and observes the stars ( he will return to paying attention to his actual surroundings in a moment, but it is hard to do so with the warmth leaning against his shoulder ).

A low croon causes him to start— it is only with the grumbled voice against his shoulder that he realizes that it was Ferdinand ( of course it was, the logical side of his mind reasons, there shouldn’t be anyone else out here ). “Sorry. I did not realize you could sing. Well, that is.”

Ferdinand hums to acknowledge him, a moment before he offers a response. “I am rather rusty, these days. I suppose even if professor paired us together in group tasks, they knew well enough to not force us into choir practice together.”

“I still maintain that it was your fault for our short fallings.” Hubert huffed. “I believe Byleth realized after a while it was best not to force me into choir and let me focus on other subjects instead.”

“Says the one that clung to the pegasus the entire time.” The other retorts, knowingly— he pointedly does not look at the smug expression the other surely has.

“I am not to be blamed for that.” He opts to change topics, staring blankly at the burning fire. “I am not familiar with what you were singing, may I inquire what it was? You— it sounded lovely.”

“A compliment? You must really want to know.” He laughs, soft and melancholic. “Just a lullaby I remember hearing often as a child. Did no caretaker of yours ever do such a thing?”

“I do not recall.” He says, a little more soft and vulnerable than he means to; but for a moment he remembers a warm voice and a soft figure that had tucked him into bed and spoken words of love ( his mother is such a stranger to him that he cannot recall her in detail— just that she was gone from this world now ).

“I see.” Ferdinand muses, and there is only a moment before Hubert finds an arm hooked around his shoulders and tugging him close. He is stiff as he is tucked against the other’s chest, a soft lilt falling from his lips. The rumble of his chest proves to be soothing, however, and relaxes after a bit.

( There is no logical explanation for any of what is happening, he thinks, as he is lulled to sleep by a hand in his hair and words to a song he has never known )

“I see someone has missed your presence.” Edelgard sounds amused when she has found him, days after they have returned home. One glove has been sacrificed to the noble cause of trying to keep the cat entertained while he does his work ( however, he has a sinking feeling that the quill pen will attract its attention sooner rather than later, and he will have to make sure the ink is a safe distance away from the papers ).

“It is disappointing to know a cat shows me more affection than most people.” He says solemnly— does not mean a word of it, but does need to acknowledge her in some form.

“Very funny. Any changes since you been back?” She inquires, flipping through one of their other tomes as a means of amusement.

“No. No harm no foul, I suppose, but the issue is that we don’t really know what happened.” Putting aside his paperwork for the moment, he grabs the spellbook to flip through its pages again. “I’m sure there’s an explanation in here somewhere, it’s just a matter of where. Although worst case, I do think we will soon be in contact with a more experienced spellcaster to solve this for us.”

“At least there’s some progress.” She leans over his shoulder to look as he scans pages idly— sticking her hand out after a moment. “Wait, let me see that.” She turns back a few pages, finger pointing to one section in particular. “Hubert, I think this is the answer to our issue.” She pats his shoulder before leaving, seemingly satisfied with the conclusion she’d reached. He stares after her for a moment before turning back to read text he has probably read before, and—

“A love spell of any variety will not work in the case of the intended target being infatuated with the caster or intended recipient of said affections.” He reads aloud, as if in disbelief— he has read this text before. It does not help him feel any more or less certain of the possibility that Ferdinand had been in love with him from the start.

But there’s still something that doesn’t quite add up, in his mind.

( He just can’t quite put his finger on what exactly )

As per usual, the answers are staring at him right in the face, and the realization comes to him suddenly, in the middle of his morning coffee. He scoops up the cat from where it had been laying at his feet with a mewl of complaint— he ignores it for the moment for the sake of some peace of mind as he stalks down the hallway.

He had always assumed this cat had been one of kitchen cats, but when he thinks about it, the first time he’d seen it was on the same day as a certain persons’ arrival. He comes to a stop outside Bernadetta’s door and knocks; this is one of those occasions where her being an introvert was to his advantage, and thankfully she is there to open the door soon enough.

“Ah— Hubert! I’m sorry, was she bothering you?” The orange stripped tabby is pulled from his hold with a meow that the both of ignore, head bowed slightly. “Edelgard, ah... Lady Edelgard mentioned that she’s stalked a claim in your study.”

“No, it is quite alright.” He only needed to affirm his suspicions, anyhow. “However, since you will be leaving soon, I figure it is for the best she does not get too attached, yes?”

“Ah— right! Y-Yes, we only have a few more days here, so...” She trails off, demeanor sullen. He does not have the time for it— nor is he very good at dealing with such emotions, so he simply glosses over it.

“Right. Do enjoy your remaining time outside of your room, perhaps? And if I do not see you again before you leave, safe travels.” Without waiting for a response, Hubert turns on his heel and sets off for his next destination to get the remainder of his answers.

“Don’t give me that look.” Edelgard frowns at the skeptical glance he throws her way— he knows her well enough to know she is speaking the truth and not hiding something this time.

“I would just like to know what exactly was intentionally planned. You were genuinely intending to use it for yourself, I know that much.” Indeed, the emperor may act at times, but the pure curiosity she had approached him with that day had been genuine.

“Sort of, correct. I was initially very curious about its uses, and if we could have used it for anything. And I was going to use it for myself, but...I was actually going to give it to Ferdinand, once we knew it would work.”

“Pardon?” He doesn’t quite follow her logic.

“You always work so hard for me, Hubert. You don’t let yourself be happy. Is it so wrong for me to want to see my friend, my...my brother have something good, for once?” That connection between them is not something they usually acknowledge— he does not say a thing about it other than a slight grimace. An emperor should not be announcing even loose relations to someone like him, nor should she be worried about someone as lowly as him. Her lips press together slightly, a tinge of frustration. “Besides, I am sick of seeing you two looking at each other like that and not do a thing about it. Had we not come up with replicable results, I would have just given him a placebo— I was initially unaware that it wouldn’t have worked anyways, with that catch.”

Hubert is silent for a moment— there’s a lot to unpack in what she’s just said, and quite frankly he does not have the time to think about it. Not now, at least; it may be worth mulling over later. “And Bernadetta’s cat?”

“That part was unplanned. I hadn’t realized she had the cat with her at first. I didn’t know until she brought the book back to me. It worked better to have you under the assumption that it was Ferdinand that was affected, not her cat. All that aside, at least we know it worked, so at least it was not all for waste.”

Everything adds up, more or less.

“I’m...a little unhappy that you decided to do things this way.” Rather— she should not have to devote her energy to something like this. What’s done is done though. “I am happy to be at your side and serve you, do not imply otherwise. But...thank you for looking out for me, sister. You’ve done enough now.”

“Have I?” Her expression looks a little torn— like the natural leader in her, wishing to service her people, has failed. Like she has failed him, somehow; and he wishes he could give her some sense of comfort in this moment. “I’m not too certain. I suppose the rest is up to you two now.”

“Mm. So, I presume you do not need the rest of this to be done, yes?” He inquires, and she shudders after a moment.

“Yes. After witnessing what a...mess this all started, I decided it would be best to take matters into my own hands. We’re best off leaving this to an expert.”

“Why, this is a change in pace; I hardly get asked out by you. Usually I have to be the one to pull you away from your work.” Ferdinand greets, as easygoing as ever. “What a special occasion this must be.”

“You could say that.” Hubert agrees, watching as the other sits across from him. “I believe I have not sufficiently apologized for my recent transgressions, so. Here we are.”

“Ah, so it is not a trick of my nose and you are indeed hiding something from me.” The gleam in his eyes is most certainly one of intrigue now.

“I should have expected you would notice.” He had expected as much, truthfully; a snort as he hands over a bag. “Very well then, take this. It’s from one of our nearby neighbors.”

“It smells not half bad!” Which is probably the closest to a compliment, from him. “So, what is this really about? I doubt you have simply called me out just for this.”

“I thought you might like something to drink while I explain the recent events. As you can see, I already have my drink.” Hubert shrugs as he gestures to his own cup. As horribly humiliating as this was going to be to explain— the sooner he gets this off his chest, the better ( of the secrets he wants to keep, this is admittedly not one of them ).

“Oh? Is that all right with Edelgard?” Still, he’s already reaching for a kettle to pour the leaves into.

“We’ve finished with it, so yes. Although I would appreciate it if this conversation stayed between us.”

“So this isn’t a crest thing.” Ferdinand concludes, and he raises a brow at him.

“Did you think it was? I hate to sorely disappoint, but no.” He waits for the other to finish preparing his tea before beginning to speak. “Lady Edelgard brought to me a spellbook to study. If you recall that brew I stopped you from messing around with, that had been one of the first attempts at trying.”

“Which is why you were so insistent on making sure it had no effect on me, but it hadn’t. Should it have?”

“I had been under the impression so, yes. I found a stray piece of hair in the brew, a shade strikingly close to yours. However, love spells do not work if the target has an affection for the caster.”

“Love...? Lady Edelgard was having you spend time on love spells?” The full of what he has said finally hits, and Ferdinand jerks back slightly. “Wait, I can explain—”

“Let me finish, Ferdinand. Yes, Edelgard was curious, I was curious, if we could make it work then we would have tried other parts of the spellbook.” He opts to leave out the fact that there has been some behind the scenes match making— he will save him from the humiliation of having to know exactly how invested the emperor was in their love lives. “However, as it turns out, I’d left the window open and the brew unattended to while we had tea that day. Bernadetta’s cat had gotten in and shed some of it’s fur, which had ended up in the brew.” He is admittedly not sure how a cat managed to snatch such a heavy book, but he cannot bring himself to care about it, at this point. “This was a recent revelation to me. I figured that after scrutinizing you as much as I have recently, you at least have the right to know.”

“Hubert, are you saying that the reason you were avoiding me was because you thought I might be in love with you?” He speaks after a brief silence, and sounds much more amused than he has any right to be. Hubert pointedly does not look at him.

“I did not think it to be fair to take advantage of you if you had truly been affected.”

“And yet just now, you would have had tried to get me to confess, you dastardly man.” He waggles a finger at him.

“Confess to what?” Behind his cup, he hides a smirk. “I do not recall ever asking such of you.”

Ferdinand holds his gaze with a thoughtful hum, placing his tea aside. “But you were not averse to it either, hm?”

“I—” He inhales sharply, turning his head to look away from him and ignores the ache in his chest. “That is irrelevant to the matter at hand.”

There is only silence for a long moment, before there is the sound of a chair scrapping against the ground. “Hubert.” A hand grasps at his chin, gently turns his head and forces him to stare into unwavering amber eyes. “Please be truthful with me. Do you...”

Ferdinand does not get the chance to finish speaking, because Hubert grabs onto his cravat and closes the gap between them. This was not exactly how he had planned for things to go, but if he’s learned anything as of late, it is that things do not work out as he has planned, so he is okay with this, finally— he can indulge himself in a moment of weakness, if only for one person ( asides from Edelgard, though he would be lying if he said his devotion to her did not waver, for a brief moment, in his mind ).

And just as quick, he pulls away and sits back in his seat as if nothing has passed— if nothing else, he can have a moment of amusement as the other stares at him in shock. Hubert is suddenly hyper aware of himself, and when he feels warmth settling in his cheeks, he begins to turn away; only stopped by lips pressed against his insistently as Ferdinand leans over him.

“Your hair is getting in my face.” He grumbles when he finally pulls back so they can breathe. Admittedly, it is not as much of a problem as he makes it seem; the way his hair drapes down somewhat obscures their faces and provides some sense of privacy.

“Your own hair is already in your face.” Ferdinand retorts, a hint of smugness that has Hubert rolling his eyes fondly as he leans in to kiss such a pleased expression off his face.

#ferdinand von aegir #hubert von vestra #aegestra #hubertnand #ferdibert #i don't know what y'all call this ship dskfnksldfs #anyways #fe16 #fe16 spoilers #* mine #* zhi writes

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kagetsukai · 5 years

Text

Drops of Satina: Day 16 - Blessings

Raphael and Lily Trevelyan belong to @out-of-the-embers. Thank you so much for helping me with this prompt!!! The name of the nobleman was concocted by @shannaraisles, who is forever the best ever?

Words: 2,767 || Read on AO3

Summons to the Inquisitor’s quarters came as a surprise and put Hannah in a state of mild panic. She had never truly spoken with the Inquisitor - most of her communication being handled by either Commander Cullen or, occasionally, Lady Montilyet - so the fact that she was going to have a direct conversation made her worry. In her past job experience, any time The Big Boss wanted to chat with her, it meant immediate termination and a need to look for a new job. With a heavy dread in her heart, Hannah put away her work, locked everything up and slowly made her way towards the Inquisitor’s tower.

Whatever she had expected to find at the top of the seemingly endless staircase was not what she found; the room was as large and splendid as Hannah remembered, but instead of obvious opulence it was tastefully decorated with practical furniture and multiple bookshelves. A large desk sat on the opposite side of the room and the Inquisitor stood up and moved around it the moment Hannah stepped past the balustrade

“Hannah!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

Hannah dipped into a courtesy and frowned a little.

“You have formally summoned me, Inquisitor,” she pointed out. “I could not refuse.”

Lily frowned and hummed. “That… is a good point,” she said. “Either way, I’m happy to finally get to talk to you. And please, call me Lily. I don’t want to be so formal when we’re about to have tea.”

Hannah stared at the woman, confused.

“Tea?” she asked.

“Yes, tea,” Lily replied with a shaky grin and pointed to a fancy couch that Hannah hadn’t noticed before - there was a table before it, ladened with food and drink. “I was gifted some black currant tea and I thought that maybe you’d like to share it with me?”

A multitude of questions crowded in Hannah’s head, one more insistent than the other. While she no longer thought she wasn’t going to get fired from her position, she still had no idea what was going on. Just to be on the safe side, she decided to play along.

“I must admit, I’ve never had black currant in my tea,” Hannah said carefully. “But I’m always interested in new food experiences.”

“Excellent,” Lily said and directed Hannah to sit down. “Shall we get to it then?”

Once they sat down, Lily went about pouring out some tea into their two cups and offered sugar and milk to go with it. Then she offered the little sandwiches and scones and cookies that sat neatly arranged on fancy porcelain plates. Hannah was surprised, because those were the kinds of things that were left for servants to do and not the most powerful woman in Thedas. Still, she held her tongue. For her part, Lily looked extremely tense. Hannah noted the stiff posture, the fingers idly picking at the nails, and the slight frown between the brows that reminded her of Raphael. Something was going on, that was for sure.

“I guess I should tell you why I asked you here today,” Lily intoned. Hannah nodded, but said nothing. “For some time now I’ve been hearing rumors of how certain members of the Inquisitions treat you and I have to say that I never condoned it and I am sorry you had to put up with it.”

Hannah narrowed her eyes.

“I had sent Master Wardell to the Exalted Plains as a test,” Lily continued. “He was supposed to go on site and repair a bridge in the area. Not only he failed to give me anything beyond a few planks tossed across a gap, but he belittled my intelligence when I questioned his actions. When I asked why he couldn’t build me a bridge like the one in Emprise du Lion, he immediately got defensive and angry. Do you know why?”

Of course Hannah knew why Wardell would be unable to replicate the bridge in Emprise du Lion, but she also knew she could never say it out loud. She didn’t have to.

“I think he wasn’t the one who had designed that bridge,” Lily said and finally looked directly at Hannah. There was steel in those gentle brown eyes as she continued to speak. “I think it was you who did it, which is even more impressive because you had to have done it sight-unseen. Which means you should be the one who’s in charge of our engineering team.”

This was getting to be too much so Hannah set down her tea cup before she spilled any liquid.

“Inquisitor,” she said and paused. “Lily,” she corrected herself. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Master Wardell--”

“Is no longer employed by the Inquisition,” Lily finished.

A dragon could have landed between them and it would have shocked Hannah less than the words she just heard. She kept staring at Lily, her mouth slightly open.

“What?” she asked weakly.

“Master Wardell is gone. I have no patience for men who disrespect women just because they’re women,” Lily said evenly. “Which means the position of Chief Engineer is open and it would bring me great joy and satisfaction if you agreed to take it.”

Words formed at the tip of her tongue, but no matter how hard she tried, Hannah couldn’t make a sound. The fact that the bane of her existence would no longer make her life unbearable brought on such vivid relief, she actually felt her body uncoil from the stress she didn’t know she had been carrying. Then the full meaning of it all hit and her eyes widened.

“Wait, you mean--” She paused, suddenly overcome with emotions. “I’d be making all of the decisions? Officially?”

Lily smiled a little and nodded.

“Yes,” she simply said. “Will you accept the offer?”

“Yes!” Hannah immediately agreed before Lily changed her mind. She had worked her entire life to get to this point and she wasn’t going to let doubt get in her way. “I accept.”

It was such a happy feeling to know that for the first time in her life, Hannah was being recognized and rewarded for her hard work. Even when she had a commission with Queen Anora, her position was largely in name only and had been given to her as an appeasement to Warden Tara Cousland. If this thing with the Inquisition went well, Hannah would be able to finally have enough influence to force the College of Engineers to accept her among them and give her the title of “Master”.

“You’ll be taking over Wardell’s office, of course,” Lily continued. “His men arrived earlier today and have been packing everything, but once they’re done, the space is yours.”

No more crowded spaces with multiple people shuffling about and breaking her concentration, Hannah realized. She wouldn’t have to lock up her desk every time she had to step away, either. All of this information was so good, Hannah was having a hard time keeping her emotions contained.

“Thank you. You will not be disappointed,” she whispered. “This means so much to me. A lot more than you could ever imagine.”

A soft blush tinted Lily’s face as she smiled wider, clearly pleased with herself.

“I’m glad,” she said and her brows furrowed again. Something else was clearly on Lily’s mind, because she shifted in her seat and sighed deeply. “I am very sorry I didn’t realize what had been going on. If it hadn’t been for Raffy, I probably wouldn’t have known.”

Hannah blinked. “Raffy?” There were so many implications and her mind tried to consider all of them at once, creating a cacophony of thought that threatened to overwhelm her.

“He talks about you a lot, you know,” Lily offered and chuckled. “Won’t shut up, really. I feel like I already know you really well just by the stories he’s told me over the past few months.” She paused and looked down at her hands; the quiet guilt that radiated from her made Hannah frown even more. “He’s been through so much, so seeing him be so happy with you…” Lily looked up and smiled sadly. “I’m glad he’s found you, that is all.”

A familiar sort of pain swelled in Hannah’s chest as she tried to work through her emotions. It should have annoyed her that it took Raphael’s intervention to get others to respect her, but she felt grateful instead. She finally had someone in her life who was willing to fight for her and had her back - and that was invaluable. The fact he also made her incredibly happy was just a lovely side-effect.

“I’m glad, too,” she said and felt herself blush a little.

Lily kept looking at her, eyes slightly sad and distant, as if she was trying to figure out Hannah’s innermost thoughts.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

Hannah nodded. “Of course.”

“What are your intentions towards Raffy?”

Perhaps she should have known this question would come up, since their conversation had turned to such personal topics, but it still made her gape at Lily in surprise. How could she answer when she didn’t understand her own feels just yet?

“Intentions?” she said slowly. “I don’t have intentions towards Raphael. If I’m to be honest, most days I’m surprised he wants to be around me to begin with.”

Lily nodded, though she didn’t seem convinced.

“I get it - I think,” she said, then frowned. “I’m sorry. I know I’m probably coming off rude, but I can’t help worry about his well-being. The last thing I want is to watch him get his heart broken.”

Oh. It all suddenly made sense and Hannah felt herself relax. She smiled a little and felt her cooling blush return in full force.

“If that’s the case,” she said, “I can tell you one thing for sure: I don’t know what the future holds, or if we’re meant to stay together, but it’s not my intent to hurt Raphael in any way, shape, or form. I care about him very much.”

The words felt like a love confession in Hannah’s mouth, and she felt terribly embarrassed that she let herself speak so freely, but it seemed to have the desired effect: Lily’s body relaxed visibly and a small smile graced her face.

“And I’m glad to hear that,” Lily said.

Silence returned between them. It felt a little awkward to sit with Raphael’s cousin and discuss Hannah’s feelings for him, so to cover her embarrassment she reached for her tea cup again and grabbed a plate with sandwiches. Lily followed suit and they were soon engrossed in their own thoughts.

The first one to break their silence was Lily.

“So I heard you had a bit of trouble with a nobleman the other day,” she said in a casual tone. “Does that happen often?”

Hannah scowled into her tea cup at the memory.

“Not so much anymore,” she said, trying to keep a growl out of her voice. “Usually it’s enough when I glare at any idiots who feel entitled to demand things from me.”

Lily nodded along.

“Makes sense,” she said. “Still, I will not tolerate such horrible behavior within the walls of Skyhold - no matter if they are high-born or a commoner. I permanently banned him from Skyhold; Lord Bruic Scheissehausen will not bother you anymore.”

Hannah had been in the middle of a sip of tea when she heard the name of the nobleman who had accosted her and it took all of her willpower not to spit take everywhere. She coughed several times, trying to clear her airways, while Lily stared at her in confusion.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked and frowned. “I don’t actually speak Fereldan so I wasn’t sure if I got the pronunciation right.”

Once Hannah collected herself again she waved off Lily’s concerns.

“No, no, you’re quite fine in your pronunciation,” she said around a grin. “I just wasn’t prepared for the man’s name. Did Lady Montilyet not translate it for you?”

Lily’s frown deepened. “Now that you mention it, her face was unusually amused when we talked about it, but I didn’t think anything of it. What does it mean?”

Hannah snorted and broke into a new bout of laughter. “His name--- his name is Brick Shithouse,” she finally managed to get out and dissolved into unrestrained giggles.

Lily’s eyes bugged out at once as an undignified snort issued from her mouth - which she promptly covered with her hand.

“Oh Maker, that’s horrible,” she said softly.

Hannah couldn’t help herself. “A horrible name for a really… crappy man,” she said and snorted as well.

Lily groaned at the terrible pun. “That was an awful joke.”

“Not as awful as that name, though!” Hannah managed to wheeze out. She was crying-laughing at this point and Lily was having a hard time keeping things together as well. “His parents really had to hate him.”

A new thought brightened Lily’s face in delight. “No wonder he’s unmarried! Who would want to be called ‘Lady Shithouse’?”

Hannah’s brain immediately provided an answer: “Perhaps a woman named Latrine?”

That was the last straw for Lily and she burst out laughing at full volume. It further triggered Hannah and they were soon howling together while trying to stay upright on the couch. Any time either of them tried to collect themselves into a semblance of calm, she would look at the other and start laughing again. There seemed to be no end in sight.

“What’s so funny?”

Raphael’s raspy voice washed over Hannah like a blanket and made her sober up significantly. There were still tears in her eyes so she tried to wipe them off as she turned to face him - and Lily did the same. He stood there, at the top of the stairs, staring at them with curious suspicion.

“I’m not sure how to say this--” Lily started, but Hannah waved her off.

“You saved me from the shittiest man in Ferelden,” she said and burst out laughing again. Lily followed suit.

Not being in on the joke, Raphael seemed a little annoyed at the little display before him, though he did his best to play along. He moved to sit down on the couch next to Hannah and gently put his arm around her waist.

“I already knew that,” he pointed out. “That doesn’t make it so funny that the two of you are crying into your teacups.”

Once again Hannah tried to contain her mirth; she took several deep breaths and fanned her face to help dry out the tears that kept streaming down her cheeks. She pointedly avoided looking at Lily in case her amusement triggered her - this had to be said quickly.

“Apparently the nobleman who accosted me was called Lord Bruic Scheissehausen,” she said and choked on a laugh. “Which in Fereldan means Brick Shithouse!”

Both Lily and Hannah dissolved into giggles again at the way Raphael’s eyes turned into saucers in shock.

“What the fuck,” he swore. “That can’t be real.”

“Oh, it’s real alright,” Lily chimed in. “Lady Montilyet was the one to tell me his name.”

Raphael stared at Lily for a moment before his face broke into a grin.

“That’s amazing,” he said. “He’s an ass, so he deserves an asshole name.”

Another bout of laughter bubbled up in Hannah’s lungs, though it simmered down the moment she got to look into Raphael’s smiling eyes. The funny name quickly drifted out of her mind, instead replaced by a steady heartbeat of Raphael’s name her body called out any time he was near. She could feel the small circles he was rubbing into her lower back and it made her melt under his ministrations.

“Anyway,” she heard Lily say. “Now that we got our silliness out, perhaps we should finish the tea service?”

Hannah turned back to Lily in time to see the other woman smile softly in her direction. It made Hannah blush in embarrassment for getting caught in such an intimate embrace.

“Can I join you?” Raphael asked.

“Of course,” Lily replied. “Grab a cup. There should be more than enough for everybody.”

As they busied themselves with food and drink, Hannah couldn’t help but marvel at how different her life had become in a span of just few weeks. Not only she found a man who cared about her in ways she never knew possible, but she also got a promotion and gained a female friend who didn’t seem threatened by her existence. Somehow, life became good.

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