#my heart ached a lot when i discovered he already retired ;______; | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sophiamargaux · 3 years

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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕱𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝕱𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕻𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖕𝖎𝖈𝖊

Hellooo! This is my very first fanfic post and I am incredibly nervous about it lol. I have always shipped Hinawa and Maki so here’s an ode to the HinaMaki ship :) I hope everyone will be respectful and know that you are allowed to ship whoever you want (as long as it doesn’t involve minors, incest, you know the rest).

BTW the story happened when they were both still in the military.

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The military is not for the soft – hearted. Its hard knuckle fights, intense violence of bombs, guns, and devastating destruction stemmed from a shallow and pointless war, is not for those with kind and gentle souls. Takehisa Hinawa only realized this truth a little too late before he joined the army. His motives? It was not worthy of an award – winning speech about being faithful to the country. It was not even an illustration of something as heroic as world peace, or to discover the cure for cancer or aids. Motives that most aspiring politicians or doctors would have. But for him, his motives are as blurry as his eyesight. Maybe the military was the only pillar he could rely on for stability or maybe it was merely because he is a second generation pyrokinetic user. Although he only found out about it when he first held a gun during a range practice in his first days in the military. Whatever his motive was, you can say it was tenacious since it made him stay in the army long enough to become a sergeant.

Hinawa was packing an overnight bag for a mission. The night was silent, and it was the customary time where most of the soldiers are already asleep. The mission was mildly dangerous since it required an assistance from two second generation pyrokinetic users, Hinawa being one-half of the assistance. The higher – ups could call someone from the Special Fire Force Department, but they are afraid that it might be all for naught and it would waste their precious time where they could have been protecting the people from infernals. They also reasoned that if an infernal did happen, the second-generation users will hopefully be able to handle the situation just in time for the Fire Force to arrive. But then again, Hinawa is starting to get used to these situations. Especially since he was recently paired with his partner for these kinds of missions. Hinawa and his partner did not have a great start when they were first paired for these types of missions. It certainly did not help that his partner was under his command as a sergeant. But with the aid of time, they started to work in sync with each other. Things would not have worked out if his friend Tojo did not convince him to offer some help to his partner.

“I’m all packed Sergeant!” A familiar voice rang through the open door.

Hinawa looked back and saw a young lady dressed in the same military gear and uniform as him standing straight by his door in a salute stance. Private Maki Oze, daughter of the commander of the Tokyo Army and the other half of the second-generation user assigned for the mission. His partner. To be honest, he was not exactly fond of her when she first joined in the army. During their first drills, she always came last and had no strength whatsoever. He often found her doing extra practice in training rooms, but he still thought all that effort was for nothing. She got in because she was a soon to be heir of the Tokyo Army, so it is safe to say that their partnership did not start off in the right foot. Maki did talk back to him once in a tone that he particularly did not like, and it ended with the whole section running fifty laps because of her. It did not end there. Maki had to run extra five laps and do fifty push – ups. He was not dubbed ‘Sergeant Hell’ by his comrades for nothing. Hinawa was always tough around them, but it was all for their sake. You needed to be hard and unbreakable for a job like this.

Maki specifically was a different story. Hinawa saw the determination and drive. Anyone can grow muscles and be physically strong but not everyone has the mental capacity of a fighter. But he saw that in her. It was not the same fire that he usually saw in other soldiers. It was brighter. It was like her flames were a loud voice in the dark. So, he decided to heed his friend’s advice and helped her. It took a lot of back – breaking drills and exhausting laps to dash the soldier out of her. No matter how much she improved, Hinawa still thought that he is right. She was not meant to be a soldier. Not with a kind heart like that.

Hinawa zipped his bag and walked over towards Maki, closing the door behind him. He sported his head cap.

“Let’s go,” he said, as they both started to make their way outside where a military truck awaits them.

“What’s the mission this time, Sergeant?” Maki asked.

“We were asked to assist Captain Daichi’s troops in their retrieval for military armor and gear from a burnt down building in the south.”

“So why are we needed?”

“They said there might be some bombs in the building that are still active. Just to be safe than sorry, I guess.”

The cold air greeted them when they made it outside. All they could hear was the deafening noise of the crickets and the soft slow rumble of the chilly air that occasionally passed by. If they both listened closely, some mild snoring could be heard from the military truck situated three feet away from them. The military looked peaceful during nighttime. The gloomy atmosphere of the moonlight shone an agenda of rest for the beaten down soldiers. The green light signaled a temporary respite to put down their armors and shields, offering sleep before a new day starts once again. Hinawa would have loved to wave the white flag of defeat and retire to his bed but for now, he needed to be a soldier.

Upon closer investigation of the military truck, Hinawa’s urge to rest grew further. The truck was an old, rundown shackle with a tarp that not only barely covered the last row but had terrible patch work which meant all the good and comfortable spots were already taken. Maybe it was some sort of universal punishment or maybe it just so happened that the other good military trucks were taken but whatever the reason was, Hinawa was too tired to even make a face of disagreement.

“I know, she’s not much to look at but get on.” The vice-captain who was in the driver’s seat bellowed brusquely.

Maki was first to climb on the truck then Hinawa followed. He looked at his other comrades and saw some of them sleeping while the others gingerly engaged in some late-night idle chatter. Hinawa was on the verge of making a bitter face towards the soldiers who first claimed the spots he deemed were nice and favorable but stopped himself before Maki noticed his sour disposition.

“I guess we should have packed and arrived earlier, huh,” Maki said as she sat down, disappointment lacing her tone, as if she just spoke out loud the exact thing that Hinawa was thinking about.

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it.” Hinawa sat down, facing Maki on the opposite side. They were hardly being covered by the old, craggy, and uneven tarp in a somewhat crowdy vehicle, sitting at the very last row. The last row was not the most unfavorable of all places, Hinawa thought. The view could be amazing plus the breeze that you could feel while travelling felt refreshing but considering that it is the middle of the night and he had barely any rest, he was not looking forward to the cold air.

He felt a sudden jolt from the vehicle and after a few minutes the truck started moving towards their destination. Tokyo still looked busy and bright even at ungodly hours, Hinawa observed as he looked at the scenery behind the vehicle they were on. All he knew about the south is that the building was in the middle of a field, a couple miles away from civilization. He guessed that maybe it was to guard territory of the country, but he was not exactly sure. But he was positive that the fields of the south nurtured cows, goats, and other animals alike. If the mission went well, the captain might agree to stop by a nearby farm to gather raw ingredients for the army kitchen. He would not mind having the chance to enjoy rest time with farm animals. Besides, he did grow up in a small town.

Hinawa swarmed in his own thoughts when he felt the forces of fatigue and exhaustion pull him closer and closer to sleep. He crossed his arms close to his chest to combat the cold air. It was not long before Hinawa completely fell asleep.

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Hinawa felt the jostling of the vehicle and the gust of the cold morning air. He slowly opened his eyes to see the sight of his lap. It appeared that he had fallen asleep with his neck facing downwards, and slowly he started to feel the ache gathering at the base of his neck as he tried to look up. Still groggy and dazed from recently waking up from his slumber, he gazed up at the free sky and the rough edge of the tarp that seemed to be falling apart at the seams. The sky was a lovely pool of lilac, pink, and blue. It was dawn at its most beautiful, banned from the shadows and despair that came with nightfall. The horizon painted a muddy picture of black and white, ambiguity brewing anticipation of a stupendous day. But at last, the world was brand new once again.

He looked behind him and noticed that the scenery had changed. Instead of buildings, towers, and a mob of civilians, what beheld him was a beautiful landscape of the countryside. Rice fields, trees, and far-off sights of the forest. It would not be long until he started seeing the fields of the south. He eyed his comrades and noticed that they were still sleeping soundly. Must be nice to not be affected by the cold air, Hinawa judged bitterly. He peeked at Maki in front of him and observed that she too, was still sleeping soundly.

He felt a small tug of his lips at the sight of her small snoring, sleeping form. She had her head rested at her left shoulder and the top of her head was facing the hide of the truck. He could already predict the look of her pained face once the sore on her neck started to settle. It pained him to see her this way, because she looked so lovely, despite the military camouflage clothing and the armor geared with it. She had grown up to be daddy’s princess, and here, a decade and thousands of miles away from that life, here amid the threats of violence from Infernals’ dissolute and unlovely tasks of the army, here was Maki Oze, asleep, raven hair softly dancing with the wind, radiating a gentle glow.

Her eyes slightly wrinkled as the sun started catching up with the moving vehicle. Immediately, Hinawa removed his field cap and gently placed it on her head, careful not to wake her up. It changed everything somehow to see this new facet of her and to be aware of how eagerly she had sought to be a better fighter. It made going through the mission with her a dangerous endeavor. A strange shiver of devotion passed through him and then a corresponding swell of protectiveness. Not that Maki needed much protection.

Hinawa realized that he had been slightly smiling for quite some time, unaware of his blatant stare towards his sleeping comrade. Instantly he dropped his smile and shook his head to be rid of the intricate thoughts he had of his partner. Such fragile, tender thoughts could cause the beating heart to act on its own that might travel beyond logic. Hinawa had to remind himself of who he was and what he needed to be, a commanding officer.

The vehicle came to a halt to signal their arrival. Hinawa stood up and gently shook Maki’s shoulder. Maki still a tiny bit bewildered, woke up from her slumber and looked at the person who woke her.

“It’s time to get off.” Hinawa said, not making eye contact as he immediately went down first. Slowly getting to her senses, Maki realized that there was something on top of her head and upon instant inspection, she noticed that it was Hinawa’s field cap. Or at least it was what she assumed since the sergeant earlier appeared to not be wearing his field cap. She removed the cap from her head and looked inside to find the tag in it beholding the name Takehisa Hinawa. She felt smitten and grateful as she gazed at her walking partner, smiling at his kind gesture.

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The sun had a blinding glow. Its fiery rays cascaded down the fields of the south border. Soldiers from left to right were moving armors. Half – way through the mission, another military truck arrived to compensate for the number of objects they have retrieved. Maki looked at the ash and soot that covered the building with disdain and annoyance. It had been three hours of back – tiring, back and forth slavery, climbing up and down the burnt building, carrying the surviving heavy equipment, while staying alert for stray bombs, and Maki has had enough. She had been sweating profusely and her arms were starting to ache. She had experienced worse, and it mostly involved Sergeant Hell’s drills and punishments.

Three hours had also passed since Maki felt nothing but scorn and spite towards her partner. She knew all too well the merry feelings she experienced earlier were too good to be true for Hinawa was stricter than usual and Maki was getting a little irritated. To think that he bestowed her his field cap only to be treated this way. Maki was certain, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Hinawa had her whole respect, but he was treading the line between army disciplinary and blunt rudeness.

Maki grunted and carried the large metal bin, making her way back into the building before Hinawa reprimanded her again about her tardiness – even if it was only a minute, no worse, thirty seconds late. Ever since she woke up, Hinawa was… a touch different. It was not a complete three sixty-degree transformation to the point where he was unrecognizable. It was more like a switch was turned on and out came a side of him that she had never met. She should not interest herself in such mundane and small observations, but she could not help but wonder at the baroque changes that Hinawa was making. Hinawa appeared as his perfectly normal self to a random comrade at first sight, but Maki would digress. From the first hour of the mission, he had been barking orders at her with excessive intensity than the usual firm but authoritative tone. Lately, it was always Maki, walk faster! Or Maki, pay attention to where you are going! Not once did he even try to make eye contact with her. No matter how hard she tried to keep up to his orders it she was either a minute late or it was not done in the way he would want it to.

Maki quickly jogged upstairs to where Hinawa was waiting. When she arrived, he already had a pile of different machine guns waiting beside him. She stood up straight and demonstrated her best salute stance while hiding her desperate panting.

“You’re late.” Hinawa said bluntly as he grabbed the bin that she was holding. He promptly dropped the bin and started placing the machine guns inside one by one. Maki swiftly struck her tongue at him when he was not looking, like a little juvenile child.

“Are you helping or not?” Hinawa ordered in firm and harsh tone.

Maki jumped to her feet and started placing the machine guns into the bin as well, scared at the possible return of Sergeant Hell. The mission was already tough on its own, she did not wish to worsen the weight of her burdens. The work was not entirely silent since they could hear other troops outside handling their own retrieved armor. Maki found the background noise pleasant since she could not handle Hinawa’s aggressive aura.

“Why am I always deployed with you?” Hinawa sounded like he was thinking his thoughts out loud after a long time of silence between them. Maki would had given him the benefit of the doubt and assumed the start of his day did not go as great as hers, or he had received bad news, but Maki was not feeling kind after three hours of nothing but boorishness and acrimony from him.

“It’s because we make a good team, you dipshit.” She muttered in her lowest, tiniest voice, silently praying that Hinawa did not catch what she said. She looked up at him just in case, but Hinawa was already staring. Maki’s blood ran cold, and her fingers started to get clammy. It was the stare. It was the look that Hinawa would use that rendered the rest of her comrades meek, frozen, praying for their lives. His face did not contort in any way nor did his eyebrows crease downwards. His face was rather relaxed and devoid of any emotion, but everyone could feel his unwavering motive for severe discipline strongly.

“I-I’m very sorry Sergeant! That will never happen again!” Maki hurriedly stood up and saluted. Without pausing, she picked up the bin and hastily made her way down. The bin was heavy, but she was willing to make that sacrifice if it meant she did not have to witness the wrath of Sergeant Hell. Although, she was fully well- aware that she would face the consequences of her actions when they returned to Tokyo.

Hinawa was left a little bewildered at the sight of Maki scurrying away. He wondered why she would suddenly bolt with the bin knowing very well that it was heavy. He sighed in frustration. He withdrew his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose to release some tension that he had been feeling lately. Hinawa was not known to be someone who was led by their emotions, in fact it was the opposite. He couldn’t even make decent eye contact without getting flustered for remembering her sleeping face. Hinawa felt pathetic at his disposition. It did not help that she was wearing his field cap. He probably scared Maki away when all she ever did was try her best while he was being a pain in the ass. He put his glasses on and went down to catch up with Maki, in hopes of trying to patch the things that he did.

It was not long before Hinawa witnessed Maki dragging the bin with whatever strength she got left. When Maki noticed his presence, she immediately had her back straight and was about to apologize again when Hinawa stopped her.

“You shouldn’t have recklessly carried this all by yourself.” Hinawa said in a calmer tone. An inconspicuous apology. He held the underside of the bin on one side and ordered Maki to do the same on the other, their fingertips briskly making soft contact. In the count of three, they lifted the bin and carefully tread their way down, conscientious of each step they took.

Hinawa cleared his throat and thought of the perfect words to say.

“I apologize for the way I um… acted earlier.” Still struggling to make eye contact he kept his gaze onwards. He felt stupid for struggling over something so regular and casual. Something he was able to do almost every single day. He could even meet eyes with strangers. But Maki was no stranger. She moved past that title long before Hinawa realized it himself. Finally mustering enough grit, he looked at her direction and there she was, looking at him with her bright purple eyes, smiling.

“You’re a weird one, Sergeant,” she said, simply. In her usual sweet, cool tone. Her eyes returned forward and continued to walk in silence with him, her smile not dropping.

Hinawa did not want to overthink. He did not want to interrupt the soft mumbling of his heart. He had been too hard – like granite, that something as soft as Maki made him feel ominous towards all things that are delicate and gentle. He did not want to think of what will become of him in the future when the comfort that she gives, became too serene that he would no longer look for peace in anything or anyone else, but her. But that was for future worries. Hinawa knew that the slope he treaded on was precarious, but for once he wanted to bask in the small joy that he found in this old, burnt, and retired building. When they finally made it outside, it was then that he realized the warm smile he wore the whole way down.

Maki stretched her back and groaned at the pain that came with it. She adjusted her cap and looked at the building. Is that all? She thought hopefully.

A sudden loud boom answered her question. The bellowing noise echoed from the top of the building. Large debris sputtered out with ashes and soot, as the soldiers ducked and took cover. Hinawa looked around, checking for every soldier, hoping that all the troops were present outside, and none were harmed from the explosion.

Hinawa stood up and decided to go inside to check when he felt someone pull his uniform, crumbling to the ground, just in time when a large rock dropped in front of him.

“And to think that could’ve been you.” He heard a familiar voice by his side. Maki had a firm grip on the collar of his uniform and the other on the ground to support her upper body and his weight. Hinawa’s back was pressed against her chest as he lay in between her legs. They took cover when another wave of cinders approached.

Once everything settled, Hinawa stood up and helped Maki along with him. He took notice of the sight that was around him. Everyone seemed fine and no one looked harmed from the abrupt blast. The captain in charge quickly grabbed the megaphone and assured the troops. Orders were made. Everyone gathered around the center and checked. Hinawa could already tell the mission was going to be delayed for another day.

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The night was silent. Tents covered the area where soldiers rested after a long tiring labor. Thankfully, no one got hurt from the explosion, thanks to the great Sol’s mercy. Daylight resigned and made room for nightfall. The crescent moon that hung above the clouds were glistening with pride, silently saying good job for a well – spent day. The campfire placed in the center crackled softly as its tiny embers danced in the wind, its serene cacophony bringing peace to the sleeping soldiers.

Hinawa was sitting by the fire, polishing his guns. It was one of those days where sleep did not befall on him, causing him to gun at the blazing fire with thoughts at disarray. This happened once or twice in every two weeks ever since he joined the army. It was the one possibility he was aware of when he signed up. It did not dawn on him that another soldier also shared the same troubles.

Maki had always known that Hinawa had sleeping problems from time to time. It was a speculation she made on their first mission together and confirmed it when she once saw him strolling around the military campus late at night. She did not know why the information stuck with her. Maybe it was because she too, had difficulties with sleeping. Whenever restless nights occurred, the Sergeant would come to mind. The cynosure of her thoughts often sloped to Hinawa on whether he was awake as well. She did not know how this circuitous way of thinking started, but it was a guessing game that she very much enjoyed playing.

Maki got up and went out of her tent. She looked around and noticed Hinawa all alone by the campfire. Maki was right again.

She approached Hinawa with careful posture, hoping not to disturb his deep contemplation. Hinawa already seemed aware of the approaching footsteps, then glanced expectedly at Maki.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Hinawa questioned in a solemn voice while continuing to polish his guns.

“Why aren’t you?” Maki asked with the same solemnity.

“I can’t sleep.”

“It’s the same for me too.” She sat down beside him. Happily warming herself in silence.

Maki would not say it out loud, but she had always loved the silence between them. There was no tension, no awkward air, no rigidity. It was just him. His good old eccentric self. The gap amidst them, in vague estimation, was but a hand’s distance yet for Maki, it was more than enough.

“Thank you for earlier.” Hinawa stopped and turned to her.

Maki was a little surprised with his words of gratitude. It was not every day for her to receive a thank you from him, though still, she replied with a soft small nod. They spent more of their time together in gentle stillness, appreciating the campfire and its warmth. Maki observed his face in her own discreet manner. The mischievous shadows of the fire grazed his features. She suddenly got an idea.

“Sergeant, do you want to play a game?”

“Honestly, you and your games –.”

“This will be fun, I promise.” Maki looked at him with hopeful eyes, prying for a yes. It was late into midnight. Hinawa was tired, and it looked like Maki was in the mood to drop any form of formalities. He had been in this predicament more than once ever since he asked her to play a game of chess with him. From that day forth, she had gradually adapted into the habit of asking. Often a game of poker or go fish. It did not help that his fierce competitiveness would get the best of him. So whenever the chances arose, he’d give in.

Hinawa sighed in defeat.

“What is it this time? Poker?” He set aside his guns. Maki’s excitement increased after his agreement.

“I forgot to bring my deck of cards though. But I have an idea.” Maki’s arm reached out to touch the temple of his glasses. “May I?” She asked politely.

Hinawa tried to ignore the sensation of her fingertips on his face but instead eyed her in suspicion.

“What are you planning?” He asked defensively. When it came to his eyesight, he did not easily trust anybody.

“Don’t worry, I won’t run away with it. It’s a game called How far can Sergeant Hinawa see.” Maki looked skeptically happy for Hinawa’s liking. He raised his eyebrows at the absolute ridiculous made-up game she curated.

“And how is this exactly, fun for me?” He asked, reaching with careful ease to her out-stretched arm.

“You’ll get a chance to teach your subordinate about having bad eyesight? It is all for educational purposes!” Conviction laced her tone. “Well… at least it is for me.” She mumbled her words after, trying her best to convince him, but she knew she was not demonstrating conceivable reasons.

Hinawa stared at her pleading face and considered every possible outcome that could occur if he ever gave in. A bad feeling brewed from the very bottom of his guts, creeping up to his esophagus and felt himself enter an unknown territory.

Maki cowered under his gloomy stare. Her shyness slowly resurfaced like a bad itch, until Hinawa eventually agreed.

“Try to run away and I won’t hesitate to shoot you.” He threatened.

“Yes, sir.” Maki swallowed back her fear.

When Maki detached his glasses from his face, the once bright and brilliant sight of the campfire suddenly shifted to an orange blur. He squinted his eyes on impulse but to no avail. He still could not see. He heard a giggle from where Maki was seated and tried to look at her pointedly, but his eyesight was too cloudy that he could not decipher her face.

“What are you laughing at?” He tried to scold.

“I’m sorry Sergeant, but I can’t take you seriously when you squint like that.” Maki sought an apologetic tone, but she could not control those small fits of giggles that came out.

“If you’re going to laugh at me, I’m no longer playing this ga-”

“Wait, wait, wait! I’m starting.” Maki waved her hands around in compliance.

Maki scooted a few places away from him, not far but far enough that she became a filmy mess of colors in Hinawa’s eyes.

“Can you see me?” She asked earnestly, quietly, a small call amid the cackling of the campfire’s flames. Maki knew what she meant when she said those words, she promised no other message but the literal. And yet the chatoyance of her eyes and the comely warmth of her face begged to differ.

“No, you’re a blurry mess.” He said calmly, with a cool and collected composure that Maki was a little jealous.

So, he is nearsighted, Maki thought to herself. She scampered a little closer as the sound of her rustling clothes melded with the fire. She sat three steps away from him.

“How about now?” She asked once again. The tender beating of her heart elevated. Step by fragile step. A dangerous distance separated them.

“No.”

She moved closer. Two steps away. The sight of his face grew nearer. Her fast pulse teetered amidst a minefield, taking precise steps, yet fully anticipating the eventual fall, his succeeding notice. Nothing went past Hinawa’s strict observation, and yet, and yet! How his keen-eyed nature toppled in the face of sweet blatancy. Tension seized her deliberate advance. She mustered enough courage to ask once more, despite how her heart opposed.

“Can you see me now?”

“Maki, you have to move closer than that.”

It sounded like a small dare. A miniscule challenge to scoot closer, or so it seemed at first. Maki closed the chasm. Their bodies touched. And there it was, the fatal flaw. And suddenly his face was one breath away. She felt her heart tightened at the gnawing clarity in front of her. This was not the game she expected to play. The once dulcet juvenile idea was short – lived and it turned into a diaphanous duel of the heart. Regret dawned when her chest constricted, a great effervescent demise waited at the sight of his face only inches away.

If Maki had been brave enough, she would’ve taken another ghastly risk closer.

“How about now?” She inquired in a supple whisper, wordlessly urging him to say yes.

To her surprise, Hinawa drew his face closer to hers. Their noses nearly caressed. Her pulse drummed. Her heartbeat soared. The campfire’s amber glow resembled his orange eyes, brilliant like the shiny coppers and pennies in a treasure box, kindling a special flame of their own. She marveled in awe, staring deep into his copper pools.

Hinawa’s stare penetrated. Really looking at her. With enough fervor, passion, and blithe to ignite a golden unadulterated cinder.

“Now I see you.”

Maki knew with most certainty what Hinawa meant when he said those words. There was no code or hidden message. But across this labyrinth of newly planted confessions, burning novelties, and undecipherable sentiments, a fine piece of thread guided a way for Maki. And for a moment, her what-ifs exulcerated, paving fresh roads for more, knowing that she may be falling because just for a short second, she felt the whole world disappear. All she could see was the soft glimmer of his tangerine eyes.

Upon sudden realization of their proximity, Maki hastily moved her head and awkwardly laughed.

“Wow, Sergeant you have really bad eyesight.” Maki lightened the mood and placed his glasses back into his face. She shifted and moved herself away to create a tiny distance between them.

“You should have them checked.” She weakly added, her hands covering the reddening of her cheeks, completely avoiding his eyes.

“I already did but there’s nothing they can do about it.” Hinawa adjusted his glasses as he said so.

Maki cleared her throat and stood, feigning a yawn as she stretched her body.

“I’ll be going now Sergeant Hinawa, it was nice talking to you.” Maki respectfully bowed and quickly made her way to her tent. As she walked, she peeked him, hoping to find answers about the earlier endeavor. Maybe it was the night’s illusion or her sleep-deprived mind, but she could have sworn that his ears were a tinge pinker than ever before.

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Maki was lying in her tent, unable to fall asleep. She tossed and turned but nothing worked. For the past hour, her mind continually travelled to the glasses game that happened earlier. She wondered if she could ever face him again without being flustered. Hinawa must have been dense enough, right? There was no way he could’ve noticed, not when she had his glasses in hand.

But after her attempted conviction failed, she began to panic at the idea of Hinawa seeing through her façade. That her rose blush had been blatant enough for his blurry eyesight.

Maki groaned in frustration and turned to her side once more. Hinawa’s field cap occupied her vision. I must return this to him, she reminded herself. She took the cap and stared at the tag that held his name. Out of nowhere, Maki felt a smile budding. She had never been more confused in this predicament, and yet she had never been happier as well. Her feelings were still an unresolved puzzle towards Hinawa. She could not even begin to untangle her thoughts about him.

Maybe it was homesickness or a glitch in the mind. She could not care less either way, only a mellow delight seeped through the fabric of her confusion. Surely, one could never be in the wrong disposition when such odd joy triumphed.

And just like that, Maki fell asleep with a smile on her face that night. Whatever it was, whatever her heart whispered that evening, she’d had enough time to worry later. It can wait till then.

#my fic #my ships #fire force #hinawa x maki #maki oze #takehisa hinawa #hinamaki #they're so precious #slow burn #i hope more people will like them lol #i had to write this

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solastia · 4 years

Text

Shadow Of You | 2

Pairing: Seokjin x Jungkook

Summary: Alpha Seokjin is sixteen when his best friend’s baby brother is born. When he finally gets to visit and meet the new baby Jungkook, he’s dismayed to discover the infant is his true mate. Or: Seokjin and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Long Wait For His Mate.

Seokjin bounded down the stairs of his family’s entirely too large house with his backpack slung off one shoulder. His hair was still damp as he’d rushed through getting ready and his clothes were thrown on without a thought. He hadn’t even had enough time to finish up his homework this morning like he’d been hoping.

“Where do you think you’re going without breakfast?”

He grinned sheepishly at the old housekeeper as he stuffed his feet into his shoes.

“Sorry, Yeona. I’m going to be late as it is.”

She sighs and offers up an apple she had in her apron, obviously having expected such an answer.

“At least eat this. It should tide you over until your first break. And stop staying up so late. You look thin and ragged. Do I have to move in to make you behave?”

Seokjin chuckles, having heard the same threat since he was a young boy.

“But Yeona, I have to study well so I become a doctor someday and can steal you away!”

“Oh, off with you. Have a good day. I’ll make your favorite for dinner tonight, alright?”

He cheekily saluted her and munched on the apple as he rushed to his car, finishing the fruit in just a few bites and throwing the core in a random bush for the gardener to find later. His poor stomach wasn’t happy with just a few bites of fruit, but hopefully, it would hold off until he had a chance to sneak off the grounds and get himself a real meal.

His phone was already rumbling with a barrage of messages, probably from Hoseok complaining that he’d had to walk to school since he’d never showed. He felt bad, but he’d hadn’t even been sure he was going to go to school today since he was just coming off of the most horrible rut in his life - never mind that it had only been his second.

After the life-changing visit to the Min household, Seokjin had rushed home, expecting to shut himself in his room to think about things. However, his body had decided to take matters into its own hands and he’d been horrified to feel himself going into his second rut - three months too early.

For once he’d been thrilled about the fact that Yeona had the weekends off and that his parents were at an event in Jeju. While it probably would have been safer to have someone around to check on him, he was glad he hadn’t had to explain why he was in so much agony. Why he refused to touch himself - instead curling up and sobbing as his body wracked with pain.

As someone who actually paid attention during his science classes due to his future career, he knew that it was simply his body's way of preparing itself since he’d found his mate. And since there was no mate around to sate him, his body increased its demands and he’d been forced to deal with high fevers, horrible cramping, and vomiting. He probably would have been able to reduce the severity with a couple rounds with his own hand, but it felt horribly wrong considering what had triggered it in the first place.

Jin drives with the radio off for once, the silence forcing him to finally think about his situation. And the honest to God truth was that he had no idea what to do. He’d never heard of anything like this happening before. He didn’t even know how to start looking for the information he needed.

When he was being realistic he’d always thought he’d never even find his true mate. It was becoming a rare thing for anyone these days. He’d pictured his life looking pretty much exactly like his fathers - marry someone his parents picked and work at the hospital until he was forced to retire. If he was lucky like them, he’d at least become friends with his mate and maybe pop out a pup before they start a life of celibacy (hopefully. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know if his parents had others).

Now...what kind of life could he have, always being drawn to something he couldn’t have? Now that he’d scented his true mate, had skin to skin contact as he’d held him in his arms, his body was going to be thoroughly fucked.

The horrible ruts were just going to get worse for at least a couple of years before his body would finally accept the loss. His scent was going to spike enough that he’d probably have to start showering several times a day and practically smother himself in scent masking products.

Worst of all, if he decided to just move on with his life and let his parents assign him a mate, no bite would ever take. He could marry and produce pups just fine, but he’d never be able to officially mate anyone else in the traditional sense. That would be a big deal-breaker for a lot of people.

Even in this modern world, the wolf and their instincts were still held in high regard. Being married without being mated would be looked at as taboo by his family and their circle, right up there with him mating a beta or becoming a janitor.

Jin sighed as he pulled into the school’s parking lot and finds Yoongi standing there with his arms crossed, giving him no chance of escaping unless he drove off and skipped school entirely.

Jin was many things, but a total coward he was not.

He grabbed his bag and slid out of the car, pasting a grin in his face that he hoped would pass for authentic even under the shrewd eyes of Min Yoongi.

“My darling Yoongichi, were you waiting for me? Chivalry isn’t dead!” he says dramatically, heading straight for the school building and ignoring Yoongi’s grumbles as he tries to catch up to him.

“Don’t give me that. I’ve been trying to call you all weekend. What’s going on?”

Jin shrugs, going for nonchalance, even as that subtle fragrance clinging to his friend began to call to him. “I guess all the stress from school got to me. Went into rut early.”

“Really?” Yoongi clucks in sympathy. “That sucks. Wait...weren’t your parents gone? You spent your rut alone?”

Jin waves away his worry. “I was fine. Some mild cramping. Five packets of beef jerky and a few rounds with myself and my Kumi Koda poster and I’m good to go.”

“You’re gross,” Yoongi groans as he pushes past him to open the door to their first class, which happened to be together.

He was incredibly happy to slide into his first period for once, as that teacher was notorious for not allowing talking and making everyone turn in their phones before class. For now, he was free from any more questions and could simply focus on his shitty schoolwork in peace.

Until lunch, that was.

And when it came around, the nerves roiled in his gut but he sat in his usual spot anyway. He watched his friends quietly as they all settled in like a pack of hyenas on a sugar rush. Yoongi settles into the spot right across from him and Jin nearly groans because that scent is still on him. Understandable, considering. Was he ever going to be able to eat strawberries again without thinking about how fucked up his life was?

“What about you, hyung?”

He snapped to attention when Hoseok jabs him with his elbow. “What?”

“We are heading over to shoot hoops at the park then have dinner at Yoongi’s.”

“Oh, ah,” he stammers, scratching the back of his head as he searches for a way out. “I was going to work on my biology project. Really big deal. At least forty percent of my grade, you know?”

“You can do it there,” Yoongi says with a shrug. “Ma has been asking about you, and you know if you make her wait much longer she’ll kidnap you.”

And that was the heart of his dilemma because the Min household was basically his real home, and he longed to be there. Ached for the feeling of belonging and acceptance that the family gave him. But he also knew that all of it would fly away if they learned the truth.

“Besides,” Yoongi continues after swallowing his food (the only one of his friends that actually bothers to do that by the way), “She’s been really worried since last time. She said she had a feeling she knew what was wrong but she wouldn’t tell me. Like having a rut is something to be embarrassed about,” Yoongi scoffs.

Jin’s nerves went wild. Did she know? Mama Min knew? He supposed she had been closer to him at the time so she would have seen his eyes, and he had growled at her but...shit. He was so fucked. She only wanted him to come by so she could warn the destined pervert away from her son.

But...he supposed he should go. Just one last time. One last moment to soak in as much of that feeling of home as he could get before he was banished. And now that the initial imprinting and rut had passed, he’d even be able to look at him without losing his mind. So maybe he’d take the chance to apologize to Jungkook too because he was going to grow up longing for something he couldn’t understand and unable to bond properly all because fate had chosen poorly for him.

He sighed and pushed around the food on his plate. “I’ll go.”

“Great, hyung. Ma will be happy and stop blowing up my phone.” Yoongi smiled gummily at him.

That seemed to be the end of it, as they all went back to eating and talking over each other about video games. Listening to them made Jin feel ancient, despite the fact that just last week he had nothing better to talk about than video games himself.

The rest of the day went by much too quickly. All of his teachers seemed to be in great moods and willing to cut classes early or assign easy work, so there wasn’t much to keep Jin’s mind occupied. He declined to play basketball with the others afterward because he felt the overwhelming urge to go home and get prepared to go to the Min’s.

It wasn’t until he noticed that he was wearing Burberry from head to toe and had spent twenty minutes styling his hair that he realized he’d been primping for his mate. For an infant that would be more likely to vomit or piss on the outfit than admire the cut or pattern. He scoffed aloud, practically hating his wolf at that moment.

“Get used to disappointment, you bastard,” he muttered wryly.

Still the wolf wouldn’t settle. Jin drove with gritted teeth, wondering what his instincts were screaming at him to do now. It wasn’t until he passed a shopping center and he nearly crashed into someone trying to control his arm from turning the wheel that he understood. Shopping? Why the fuck did he want to go shopping?

The urge grew until stopping abruptly, letting Jin’s mind clear.

Oh! The bastard wanted to bring a courting gift. Not in this lifetime, buddy.

He breathed with mingled relief and wariness when he finally pulled into his usual spot at the Min household. He saw all the scooters and skateboards laying in the lawn that meant his friends were already here.

He gulped and climbed out of his car, walking towards the door with an odd sense of deja vu. It was just a few days ago where he made this same journey that changed his life forever.

He stared at the door, suddenly wondering what to do. Normally, he barged in like he had the right to...but did he any more?

The choice was taken from him when Yoongi flings the door open and scowls at him like he’d just grown three heads.

“Why the hell are you just standing there, weirdo? Come in already.”

“Yoongi, be nice!” Came the familiar command from the living room.

“Yes, Ma,” Yoongi grumbled as he closed the door behind Jin and waited for him to take his shoes off.

They walked together towards the living room as Jin tried to control his racing heart. He was so nervous but his wolf finally seemed content with that strawberries and cream scent filling his nose like a balm.

The moment they walked into the living room, Mama Min pierced him with a meaningful look. Then she turned and handed Jungkook to Hoseok.

“Take him into Yoongi’s room and you guys hang out in there for a bit. I just want to check on Jin without you guys hearing a bunch of embarrassing questions.”

They all chuckled, having dealt with the same concern after one of their own cycles. Jin eyed the bundle in Hoseok’s arms warily, both wanting to run from it and to protect it from Hoseok's too loose grip.

“Seokjin,” Mama Min said softly, bringing his attention back to her.

She was...crying? Was she going to kick him out right away then?

She held out her arms and thickened her scent, the comfort and reassurance she was exuding exactly what he’d needed.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

He keened and ran towards her arms, letting her pull him close. She rocked him as he finally cried for the first time since it happened. He could feel the wet droplets as she joined him.

“Oh, you sweet boy. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry,” she crooned, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t do anything. I won’t do anything! I promise!” he cried hysterically, desperate to keep her from ever looking at him with disgust. “I can stay away from him, I will.”

“Oh, darling boy. I know you would never do anything you shouldn’t. I’m just sorry it’s like this,” she said softly, cradling his cheeks to make him look up at her. “I always knew that you were meant to be a part of this family, but this seems like such a high price to pay for it. I wish I could have had him sooner for you.”

“What do I do now?” he asked softly, sniffling.

She sighed and pet his cheek. “I don’t really know, Jinnie. I’ve never heard of this before. I suppose your parents don’t even know about this yet?”

He shook his head. “No. They’re not even home right now.”

Her eyebrow raised in shock. “But...Kim Seokjin! Did you just have a rut all alone in that mausoleum of a house?”

“Uh, yes? Yeona is off weekends and my parents were out of town so I had no choice. BUT! I didn’t do anything! I swear! I just slept a lot and I swear I didn’t think anything bad.”

He clutched at her as he swore, and her eyes softened even as they filled with more tears.

“Hush, sweet thing. This is an...odd and difficult situation, but I like to think I know you well enough to know you’re trying your best. I’m not going to automatically think you’re feeling...things...for an infant. If anything, your alpha should just be feeling super protective of him, and judging by the way you growled at me last time, I think it’s safe to say you are.”

He cleared his throat with embarrassment. “Sorry about that.”

She waved it away. “It’s alright. You can’t help it.”

The conversation lulled to silence after a few moments, with him simply enjoying the way she was petting his hair.

“Mama Min?” he finally asked softly.

“Yes?”

“Should I...um...do you want me to stop coming by now?”

She sighed and tilted his chin up to face her.

“No. You are always welcome here, sweetheart. Always. I trust that not only will you be able to control yourself, but that I will be able to be a fair judge of whatever is going on.”

She waited until he nodded in acknowledgment. “However, if at any time it becomes too hard for you to be here, know that we understand and will love you no matter what you decide. If you think it’s better to stay away, that’s fine. I’ll still expect you to write, call, send a pigeon. Whatever. We won’t be upset if you decide to find a mate your own age and move on with your life. You deserve to. No one will judge you for not waiting for eighteen years for a mate. That’s unrealistic and unfair.”

He nods and looks down. “Does Yoongi know? He’ll be pissed.”

“Not yet. I’ll tell him tonight after you all leave. I think he’ll take it better one on one. But you know him. He’ll take the night to process it and then he’ll be angry at you for two days because you thought he’d get mad at you, not because of the situation.”

That much was true, he supposed.

“Alright,” she said with gusto, pecking him one last time on the head. “Go round the hooligans. Dinner will be done in a moment.”

He jumped up, feeling lighter than he had in days. His life still royally sucked, but at least for the time being he still had his home.

“Everything okay?” Yoongi asked the moment he flung open the bedroom door.

They were all gathered in a little circle in front of Yoongi’s bed, with Hoseok sitting on top of it. He was bouncing and singing something entirely inappropriate for a child.

“Yeah. It’s cool. Dinner’s almost done.”

“Finally!” Namjoon huffed, his stomach rumbling loudly to agree.

“Here!” Hoseok huffed and shoved the bundle towards him. Jin accepted it without thinking.

He looked down and locked eyes again with the creature that had so changed his life. His wolf quieted almost instantly, finally content to be in the general vicinity of its mate. The others shuffled out of the room and he barely noticed, so enthralled he was by the eyes blinking up at him. The baby was so quiet. Aren’t they supposed to be loud?

And...he supposed as far as infants went he was decent looking. Didn’t look like a potato like some infants he’d seen. His eyes were larger than the rest of the Min’s, and his nose seemed a bit longer. Maybe it was just a baby thing and he had to grow into himself.

All he knew was that he was very glad that all he scented was strawberries and pup, and it just made him protective. He didn’t feel any crazy urges or have bad thoughts - he simply wanted to make sure this pup was safe and happy.

Huh , he could live with that.

“Well, how’d I do?”

He looked up to find Mama Min watching him from the doorway, leaning against it and smiling softly.

“He’s only seven weeks old and already makes Yoongi look like a gremlin,” he scoffed playfully, standing up.

She laughs and holds out her arms. “He is a pretty one. Yoongi’s not so bad either when he sleeps more than four hours and showers.”

He hesitates, his wolf unwilling to release the pup now that he had it. But no, he was more than instincts. He thrust Jungkook towards her and pretended that his wolf wasn't howling against the loss.

Who else would he be safer with than his own mother, you bastard? He growled to himself.

When they gathered for dinner it was the usual chaos. Everyone was screaming and talking over each other, tons of laughter and teasing. Amazing food and even better friends.

Maybe I can keep this, he thought to himself. He smiled hopefully as he observed everyone he cared about sitting around him. Maybe things don’t have to change too much. Jungkook will just be another friend. Eventually. When he learns to talk that is. I can keep on with the plan.

Nothing will change.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #fanfiction #alpha seokjin #omega jungkook #jinkook #bts scenarios #mxm #solastia #omegaverse #shadow of you

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owlsbride · 4 years

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Blinding Lights.

Chapter II

She No Longer Heard the Music.

Is it cruel or kind Not to speak my mind And to lie to you Rather than hurt you Well, I'll confess all of my sins After several large gins But still I'll hide from you Hide what's inside from you I no longer hear the music

Sakura glanced at the clock hanging on the white wall of her office at Konoha hospital and discovered with feigned amazement that she had been working there since 11 pm from the day before. At which point 20 and a half hours had passed, no one could tell, much less her. She remembered that the day before around 8 o'clock she had stopped by the office of the new Hokage to leave him the reports of the previous shift, and after a small talk, she had quickly retired to the hospital to fulfil with excellence one of the last orders that Tsunade had imposed before resigning her position: Co running Konoha Central Hospital together with Shizune. And speaking of Shizune, where could she be now? Sakura looked at the clock again and sighed. Surely her Senpai would already be at home resting. She would have retired hours ago after warning her leaving for the day, asking the young nin doctor if she needed anything and recommending that she should rest too. Sakura already knew the routine by heart: she would simply dismiss any question from Shizune by waving her hand in denial, or she would have pretended not to listen to her Senpai and continued working, as usual, that inhuman amount of overtime. Shizune would have just sighed and after one last tired look, would leave the medical facilities until the next day, leaving Sakura to her own. Sakura felt comfortable in her hospital, she knew it like the back of her hand and every corner, no matter which one, it was like being in her own home. Not that she didn't have a home for her own, well, yes, yes she had, and a very comfortable one by the way, but she felt a lot better when working either in the ICU, the rooms, the laboratory or her office. She did not hate her own house, but she preferred to arrive there once she had finished all her duties. Exhaustion taking over her body and mind so that she could simply enter her comfortable apartment to take a shower and fall on her bed and finally sleep as deep as possible in the most dreamless dream, so she wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night or the day depending on the worked shift. Sakura shook her head coming back to reality once more reading the records of the day, those that she would have to leave to the Lord Sixth at some point in the afternoon which means today she would be forced to leave the hospital shortly. It was 8 pm, if her math didn't fail her if she finished her work around 9, she could find Kakashi on his way to his own home, and at that moment she would deliver the papers. The oral report should be left for tomorrow and knowing her former sensei as she did, that would not be a problem. Kakashi had proven to be a better Hokage than anyone would have ever thought; still, old habits die hard: working more than necessary in bureaucratic matters was not in his nature, less now in these times of peace, so different from those that they had faced so many years ago. So many years ago. Had there really been so many? Yes, they had been, but they had passed quickly. In the blink of an eye, Sakura had gone from being a wayward 13-year-old girl starting her shinobi path to becoming a 25-year-old woman. A direct disciple of Tsunade, a Nin doctor, a great Kunoichi and a promise for Konoha medicine. Her professional life was settled for at least the next 15 years, and she was delighted with it. Even more now that the wars fought in the past had given way to brighter times for the new generations that slowly began to repopulate the village. There were already more births that were attended in the hospital than the fatal cases produced on the battlefields. Of course, people kept dying, that was inevitable, but it was one thing to lose shinobis and villagers due to natural causes and quite another to do it due to the horrors of war. Even so, Sakura, daughter of fire, anger, and convulsed times never let her guard down and was always attentive to a new outbreak of violence. Maybe it was a way of staying attached to a past that made her feel much more supported and contained, but prevention was never too much. The sun could shine brightly now, but no one would never know when a storm could come to sweep away everything built since then. Sakura was satisfied. Satisfied. No, not happy. Satisfied. She knew she was settling for little, but that's how the last few years had been. It's been said that in life one can't have everything and that's why it is better to settle for what at least in some way can go well, so that's exactly what she did. Sakura always considered herself as a woman with will and power, but on more than one time, the lack of self-confidence had led her down dark paths that she didn't even want to think about. However, it was not only her who thought so. She had heard the rumours about her. Since she was a girl, Sakura felt that she didn't fit in. She had grown up in a typical and wealthy home. Unlike the team 7 she had had the possibility of growing up surrounded by the love of her mother and father, she had not suffered the losses that Naruto, Kakashi or Sasuke suffered which at times she almost romanticized. She knew that as an only daughter, she had been the object of her parents' devotion and focus of all their attention, which turned her into a spoiled child. It is true that she was weaker than the others and that she also cried often, but it was also true, and no one could deny that when the time came, the change she had made to become stronger had been radical. She would never be left behind again, and yet the gossip continued. She had even heard them come out of her best friend Ino's mouth. What could Sakura know about the life of a Kunoichi when it was the closest to perfection. Ino had lost her father in the fourth war just like Hinata and Tenten lost Neji. Shikamaru had lost his father. Temari had grown up without the love of her parents like Naruto and Sasuke. Sakura was far from being able to empathize with his two teachers, how she could understand Kakashi's feelings or Tsunade's resilience when losing not only her brother but also her lover and later Jiraiya. For Ino, the most significant loss Sakura had ever suffered was her long pink hair that time as a child. What Ino didn't know is that each of those losses that didn't belong directly to Sakura, they did indirectly. Sakura loved each of her friends intensely and from the depths of her being. Each tear, each pain of any of them was her own in her skin blood and bones. She suffered with them and for them in silence, and that silence hurt more than anything. That is why she had decided to be a doctor, so as not to see anyone else ache again, and if somebody had to do it, after all, better to be her, because deep down she was strong, and she would be even more for others. Silence. That silence was slowly killing her. She was slowly sinking into loneliness and apathy. Ino would always be her best friend no matter what the blonde could say about her with a few too many drinks or for the simple fact of wanting to stand out as she had always been. The rest of the boys would be her family forever, and she would accompany them in every important step they took in this new adult life they faced. They all grew so much, they were even starting their own families. Even Naruto had overcome his unconditional love towards her, and now Hinata was the light in his eyes. Maybe Sakura should have paid more attention to him when she was a child, perhaps if she had tried to fall in love with the self-proclaimed future Hokage, today she would be happy. What Naruto wouldn't have done for her? However, she had always been in love with Sasuke. From the first day she had seen him in the academy, from the first second, and for a moment she thought they could have their happy ending, after the fourth war, revenge, repentance and tears, peace appeared. Sakura believed then that love was enough for everything and she had tried. Sakura and Sasuke finally began their love story. Sakura was ecstatic, and at first, she thought she had everything she had ever proposed. She would form a family with the last of the Uchiha and reestablish the clan, they would have many children who would exalt the surname once more. Children who grew up strong like Sasuke and sweet and determined like Sakura. However, the happiness that Sakura thought she had were nothing more than projections of her wishes. Sasuke was rarely in the village, and when he did, the distance between them was enormous even though neither of them said so. A devious routine that hurt more than any kunai. At night Sasuke and Sakura could love each other intensely for a couple of hours, even talk to each other about their days or their wishes. Sasuke would sleep wrapped in nightmares and night fears while Sakura would watch over those dreams trying to provide comfort to her lover, caressing his forehead, whispering comforting words in his sleeping ears, Sakura would spend hours without sleeping, and when the morning arrived, after having breakfast together they would go their own way without much to say to each other. And so over the years, Sakura realized that she no longer heard the music. All those melodies of love, dreams of illusion vanished, and she quickly began to feel nothing for Sasuke. They had nothing in common, and the truth struck her like a thunderbolt: they were together out of habit, fear and anxiety. She had to finish everything as soon as possible to stop the spiral of wounds that a relationship like this left, however, her heart and nobility played a trick on her. Sakura felt that she could not abandon Sasuke, that he could not suffer another loss and despite losing her own happiness, she had to sacrifice herself to achieve the mental and emotional well-being of her loved one. That's what she was for, that's what a woman was for. she wouldn't be as cruel as the world was when Sasuke was little. She could save him even if no one saved her. And so, without much and without anyone noticing, Sakura became a ghost, the shadow of herself. More and more silence, more and more loneliness and more fake smiles. She was lost again as she was when she was a child. And one day Sakura's world stopped. She should have seen the signs. That night Sasuke and Sakura had sex, the most intense and intimate sex they had ever have. Long hours of love and pleasure till they both fall asleep. In the morning Sakura looked for Sasuke by her side, but he was gone. On the bedside table was a letter that was written in the neater handwriting she had ever seen, and she didn't need to open it. Sasuke had left and would not return. Sakura was relieved and scared of her own feelings, but it was better this way. Both would go their own way and would have to discover who they really were for the first time. Sakura had a new chance. And with this new chance in hands, she devoted her life to the hospital and to others. Yes. She was satisfied. Sakura began to gather her things and put together the folder that would present to her Hokage in just a few moments. She smiled to herself at the thought of him: his languid figure with his false hunched posture, the smile behind the mask, maybe the white robe slung over one shoulder in case he had felt too lazy to take it off and leave it in the office and his hands in his pockets. Kakashi was a mystery; however, those little glimpses of his gestures Sakura knew them perfectly. She had known Kakashi since she was 13 years old and since then he had perhaps been the only person who had stayed closest to her in all this time. Ever since her sensei had assured her and her teammates that he would protect them with his life on their first mission against Zabuza, even if it was a clone talking, even if it was a strategy, she knew then that he was serious. She also knew back then that she was at his feet. She was a child then, she was impressed with Kakashi, even hating sometimes his antics. She wasn't in love with her sensei, she didn't have a crush on him; then, it was just pure admiration and respect. She used to felt secure around him, and so she did through all these years: during missions, in the war and now that he was in charge of all the people of Konoha. Kakashi loved Konoha as much as she did, and that made her respect him even more. He had never turned his back on his people, despite everything he had ever had to go through, he always remained true to his principles and had never become a monster to fear. So far away was Kakashi from Sasuke in the end, those who might once have looked alike, today proved to be totally different. Sakura could trust in Kakashi. No matter how many vague answers he gave to her tireless questions, how many evasions he invented so as not to talk about himself, or how many times she wondered if there was ever a genuine smile underneath that mask, in the end, Kakashi was always loyal, faithful and honest. Sakura admired his joviality. The man remained the same as when she had met him, he seemed not to have aged a year, while she had aged all together. How many years separate them? Thirteen, maybe fourteen, and yet at times, she seemed even older than him. She had to ask him the secret of youth. Saying that Kakashi was attractive was a no-brainer. Everyone knew it, she knew it, even without seeing his face. She knew or thought she knew that under the mask was one of the most beautiful faces of Konoha, however, perhaps because of the secrets it hid, Sakura felt that her Hokage looked even more attractive like that. It was not necessary to speak of his body. Kakashi was an elite shinobi, his body had been shaped for that so he could be a killing machine, however, he also may look like a rag doll sometimes. Sakura knew a large part of his thanks to the number of times she had healed his wounds as a doctor, and she had seen many other men as well, but the former Copy Ninja had a different complexion from the others. While most of the shinobis looked either too thin or too formed, Kakashi was the balance between the two. Long legs, narrow waist, a flat abdomen, broad shoulders. Yes, Hatake Kakashi was the closest thing to perfection Sakura knew that any woman who could have him for herself would be lucky in more ways than one and she was jealous just imagining it. Sakura blushed from just analyzing her thoughts since when had she started observing her sensei like this? She almost chastity herself and force her mind to change the course of her thoughts. Not everything was beauty and light in the Hokage, and that Sakura could see it too. Behind all that carefree facade, the tired looks and mischievous smiles, she also saw loneliness. Whole hours spent in an office to which he had no attachments and a home to return to where he could only find his dogs if they were invoked. She wondered what was going through Kakashi's mind. Was he still missing Rin? Would he have overcome Obito's loss, this time for good and the Sharingan as well? Kakashi was a man of action, Sakura felt that even in times of peace, he would miss the din of missions, a battle, the fire and the anxiety of not knowing what would happen next. Sakura sighed. In the end, Kakashi was more like her than she could have ever imagined. They both clung to a dark past, a present that offered only apathetic calm and a future full of promises of lonely stability. Sakura felt her heartache for both of them, but even more for Kakashi. Once again, her mind and soul were trying to heal somebody else before herself, but she couldn't help it. Thinking of Kakashi filled Sakura with a warmth in her body that she hadn't felt in a long time. It wasn't just physical attraction. It wasn't about wanting to spend a night with Konoha's most coveted ninja. No. Sakura wanted to share her sorrows along with his. She wanted to touch his hand and reassure them both that everything would be fine. She craved to talk to him for hours, contemplate the stars with him, gaze at his profile, laugh at his silly jokes, and get mad at his ridiculous excuses. Suddenly Sakura wanted everything from Kakashi, she desired to know him as he really was. She wanted to remove him from the pedestal she had once put him on and make him human, re-meeting him as what they were now: two adults. Sakura took her things and went out determined to meet the Hokage. She would give him the reports and see what happened next. She would invite him to dinner just for the sake of being courteous and talking to him. Just to know what his answer would be. Even if it were a no, which she supposed would happen, she would begin her attempts to get closer to him and know if he wanted to get closer to her. She didn't care what kind of relationship they could strike up. She wasn't expecting anything, just hearing his voice, even his rejection. Maybe that's how Sakura could felt something again, even if it was just pain.

If you want to read the first part you can ask for the link to AO3, or scroll down to find it here. Third part on it’s way. Hope you all like it. The song belongs to The Libertines: Music When the Lights Go Out, and Naruto, doesn’t belong to me, obviously.

#fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi hokage #Kakashi #kakasaku #haruno sakura #sakura #naruto verse #naruto #AO3 fanfic #read on ao3 #kakashi hatake #read #review #follow 👑 Share ❤️ Enjoy 🍑#share #coment

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raendown · 4 years

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Surprise @bouncyirwin! You thought the smiles were done? Never! I was commission by the very kind @sarcastic-mommy to give you more fluff!

Pairing: ShikamaruSakura Word count: 1238 Rated: G Summary: Their journey together had come so far already. He couldn't really blame her for taking a moment to look back at it all.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

The Path Still Winding On

Watching his son nod off in the middle of telling his own story, Shikamaru could only shake his head and chuckle. He could remember what it was like when Shikadai was a newborn and how exhaustingly terrifying those months had been as a first time parent. Now here he was, newly retired from active duty and awaiting the birth of his fourth child’s second daughter any day now. It was hard to believe that so much time had gone by already.

Several children went stampeding past him and Shikamaru reached out with his shadows to catch one of his granddaughters when she tripped on the way by, setting the girl to rights with a pat on the head even as he looked around for his wife. It wasn’t like her not to be in the very center of the madness.

There really was no other way to describe the chaos that took over the quiet household every holiday when their four children and the families each of them had grown came together for good food, good conversation, and to reminisce over good memories. Sakura could usually be found in the epicenter of it all, ruling over her brood like she had once commanded the battlefield. All of their children had inherited enough Nara intelligence not to question her orders - or at least they had learned not to at fairly young ages. Some of the grandchildren, however, were still discovering the world and the sharpness of their matriarch’s eyes when displeased.

Rising from the table made his knees creak and his back ache. Shikamaru huffed about the tribulations of aging even as he nimbly dodged around two little tots having a mock battle in the middle of the kitchen. Just watching how much energy they possessed made him tired - although that really wasn’t anything new, he’d always preferred to be still when the option was there.

It took a bit of searching in a few unlikely places but he did eventually find his wife.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked, closing their bedroom door behind himself. Sakura looked up from the babe cradled in her arms and the moment he saw her tears Shikamaru was across the room cradling her face in his palms.

“Oh stop,” she told him with a wet laugh. “They’re happy tears.”

“Has your age finally caught up with you then? Senile old woman, making me sniff you out in some dark corner all alone just to find you sobbing over happiness.”

If not for the precious burden in her arms she would have swatted him for his cheek. She rolled her eyes instead before leaning in to rest her head against his shoulder, gently bouncing their youngest grandchild in the same blanket they had wrapped their firstborn child with the day they brought him home.

“Rich of you to call me old with that many wrinkles in your face,” Sakura murmured.

“What’s made you cry, love?”

“I was just watching them all smile and laugh and I started thinking about how thankful I am for everything we have. Then I thought that if I stayed there I might burst in to tears and I just didn’t want anyone to worry, that’s all.” A sigh escaped her but it was a happy sound. “Sometimes I just can’t seem to wrap my head around it all. One day I was only a little girl with nothing but decent chakra control and a brain too big for her muscles to keep up with. Then it feels like I turned around and I’ve got a husband, four children, more grandchildren than I can keep up with, and one of the boys down the road asks me to tell him stories of the days when I was a war hero. A hero! Me!”

“You’re certainly my hero,” Shikamaru told her.

Her first instinct was to laugh because of course a woman with as many accolades as his wife would never see them as anything to celebrate. She had always been the type to carry duty and honor as though they were no more than her due to the world. It didn’t matter how many years had passed or how much self-confidence she gained, Sakura would never look in to a mirror and see the guiding star that so many others saw her as. It was part of her charm.

“Quit trying to butter me up and hand me that bottle. This one’s about to start fussing.”

The words were hardly out of her mouth when the babe kicked out with one little foot and opened his mouth to loose a hungry squall. Shikamaru could only shake his head, doing as she asked.

“It’s like you’re in his head,” he remarked. She only shrugged. “You’re sure that you’re alright?”

“Yes, I’m just fine. What do you think, should we have another one?” Sakura looked up at him with a cheeky smile. They both knew she was long past the age of bearing another child but still Shikamaru couldn’t help the gentle thud inside his chest.

With every year that passed their family grew larger and larger, with every child born their hearts grew fuller and fuller, and he couldn’t imagine having lived this life with anyone but her.

“How about we get another cat instead?” he suggested, trying to ignore the way his words came out choked with emotion.

“A lovely idea. If you’re very nice to me I might even let you pick the name.”

“Michio if it’s a boy.”

Such a quick answer startled his wife, earning him a pair of wide blinking eyes that quickly watered and began spilling down her cheeks again. With both hands occupied Sakura had nothing to hide her face behind but that was alright; Shikamaru had wiped her tears before and he would continue to do so until the day he could no longer lift his hands. And then he would kiss them away.

With her face cradled between his palms Shikamaru leaned in to press their foreheads together. “Would you like to stay in here for a few more minutes?”

“I think that’s best,” Sakura answered in a wavering voice. “Thank you, Shika. Thank you for this life we’ve had.”

“Hey now, we’re still kicking. There’s still a lot of life for us to live. Naps to take and all that. Now come on, let’s sit you down over there, you can feed the baby and we can just stay in here until someone comes looking, alright?”

Sakura nodded without saying anything but she was wearing a smile as he led her over to sit on the bed, making a show of grumbling when his knees creaked again just to hear her quiet laughter. It was silly, he thought, for her to be thanking him when he was the one who could be nothing but grateful. Everything he had in this world, every happiness and every triumph, he owed it all to the beautiful woman at his side. After all these years together he still fell more and more in love each day he woke to hear her humming away in the next room with her morning tea, patiently waiting for a lazy man who didn’t deserve her to wake up and face the next step of their journey together.

Maybe someday he could make her understand what an honor it had been to take this journey with her.

#rae writes #commission #shikasaku #shikamaru #sakura #fanfiction

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fablesrose · 4 years

Text

Of Kings and Shadows XXII

Description: Y/n, a girl who seems to have found her calling. Being a SHIELD agent is like a dream come true. With a friendship starting to form with the Avengers, she’s the Queen of the world! What could go wrong?

Pairings: Avengers x reader, Loki x reader (eventually)

Notes: On Wattpad –> Here

Masterlist

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

Usually, the team goes to Nick for missions and debriefs. This time, however, Nick came to the compound.

Thor and Bruce looked sympathetically at the four sporting bruises and holding ice packs to black eyes. Thor and Bruce didn't go into the compound and Loki was a bit more durable and healed faster than the others. One thing that everyone had in common that went on that mission was the shock.

The twins, Rhodey, Vision, Sam, and Bucky had all gotten the day off. It was kind of cruel irony, the ones who knew her, laughed with her, got to discover her previously unknown fate.

"And you're sure about this?" Nick sat at the front of the room trying to wrap his head around what they had told him.

The five all voiced their own "yes."

"You're positive?"

"Unless Y/n has a twin sister that looks exactly like her that you don't know about, then yeah, pretty positive." Tony gingerly reapplied his ice pack to the back of his skull where his head hits his helmet. "Friday, throw up the footage."

A screen opened up to show what was recorded from Tony's helmet. The feed was fast-forwarded to where Y/n walked into view amid the Hydra agents. Once her full face was shown the footage stopped and zoomed in close.

"Unless I'm mistaken, I believe Y/n's eyes are very much black."

"Right you are my favorite android." Tony waved his finger haphazardly at Vision across the table.

Nick sat down and swiveled his chair to face the screen, "It looks like we found our missing Queen."

"Are we sure it's even her?" Sam looked apologetic for even suggesting such a thing, but skeptical all the same, "Could she be some sort of evil twin or somethin'?" Everyone couldn't help but flick their eyes to Wanda and Pietro at the mention of twins.

"No, Sam, it's her," Nick was looking at the screen.

"How can you tell?"

"There are stretch marks on her neck. Those are extremely hard to mimic and are in an unusual place."

Everyone was a bit freaked out.

Tony was squinting at the screen, "How can you even see that?"

Nick didn't answer so Tony looked to Natasha for an answer since she knew everything, but she didn't even acknowledge him.

Pietro looked more puzzled than the others, "Why would she have stretch marks on her neck?"

"Hey, Loki," Clint had a barely noticeable smirk on his face, "why don't you explain."

"That is a long story that does not need to be explained at the moment."

Bruce started the video again and watched it play through for a couple of minutes, studying Y/n's face. "There isn't even a hint of recognition in her face," he turned to look at the others in the room, "what could they have done to her?"

Rhodey started counting on his fingers, "She's been missing for what? Six years?"

Vision finished for him, "And The Queen has surfaced a little under four years ago."

"She must have seen many horrors in those two years." Thor looked solemn, not wanting to look at the screen.

"Good to see you can do basic math, brother." Loki tried to sneer, but it turned more into a wince than anything.

Thor sent a half-hearted glare back at him.

"They must be doing something a lot harder and faster to cut down the time table that quickly from when I was in there." Bucky swallowed while he had his eyes locked on the table.

Steve had a hand on Bucky's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze to show that he was safe there. Bucky nodded back at him to show he appreciated it.

"Maybe she's weak." Pietro was snapping his gum rather loudly but soon started to shrink back into his seat when he felt the glares.

"Or she could have gone with them willingly." Everyone froze as they looked over at Wanda. At first, she didn't notice the stares, but her magic tapped into the overall vibe of the room and she became a little uneasy.

"I would watch what you say about Ms. Y/n, Wanda." Vision had a look of warning when he looked at her, but she could tell that he wasn't excluding himself from it. "She is well respected not only by the people in this room but many outside of it as well."

Wanda's eyes wandered to see what exactly Vision was talking about. She noticed that Bruce had hints of green peeking out of his shirt collar. Loki had wisps and sparks of green winding around his fingers. Everyone else had twitching fingers or were flexing their jaws, struggling to stay calm. Or in Natasha's case, she was deadly still. What really drew her attention was everyone's hair sticking up at the static electricity. The source of which was the glow from Thor's eyes and the lines of lightning running up and down the space in between his fingers.

She mumbled out an apology and tucked her head down, not speaking a word more.

Steve was the first to speak again as he turned to face Nick, "How do you want to proceed, Fury?"

Nick sighed and leaned forward, templing his hands on the table. "We continue on missions as usual, but I want to adjust one thing on the teams. I want Loki on all the missions from now on." Nick focused on Loki, "You can get a break once we catch her. I want you to focus on getting in her head, try to communicate with her, find a weakness so we can take her down, anything."

"I can do that Fury," Wanda carefully peeked at him, tilting her head towards him.

"I know Wanda, but I still want Loki to supervise even when you're there. He has a lot more practice than you." He turned his attention to everyone else in the room, "She's an asset, and I would prefer if she was undamaged."

'Any more than she already is.'

Wanda read the thought from someone's head, but as everyone stood to leave, the commotion caused her to lose the link with whose ever mind she was reading before she could identify exactly who it was.

Wanda didn't enjoy invading people's privacy by reading their minds... That was a lie. She knew she wasn't supposed to enjoy invading privacy, at least, that's what they keep telling her every time she lets it slip that she's doing it. Honestly, she didn't really see a reason not to, if they can't tell she's doing it, why bother to stop. (If only she could keep her mouth shut.)

She asked Loki once if he was reading everyone's minds since she knew he was more than capable of doing so. He told her, no, his reason being "Why would you do that when there other ways of obtaining information that are far more fun."

She didn't ask what those were.

Wanda only tried to read his mind once but it was heavily shielded. She couldn't get past them and the look he gave her and the gleam in his eye made her not want to know what was in his head.

The team rarely, if ever, talked about Y/n as a group. As stated before they would talk about her more in pairs on a particularly hard day.

Wanda didn't know much about her, but with this new revelation coming to light there was no way she was going to leave anything in the dark. The Avengers were growing soft and sentimental. Wanda didn't have any biases about this chick and if no one was going to tell her about her, well, Wanda was just going to have to play a little dirty.

She wandered through the compound, drifting just close enough to rooms where members of the team resided to be able to skim their thoughts and memories.

The more she drifted, the more frustrated she got. Wanda wasn't sure what she was expecting, some dirty little secret or maybe, hopefully, some sort of weakness. Instead, all she was getting was waves of sadness, confusion, and fond memories. There was no useful information in everything she skimmed through, just inconsequential things, like what she would have wanted her superpower to be, surprise surprise, she didn't get anywhere close, or that she had impressive karaoke skills.

Wanda's frustration caused her to not be so subtle in her investigating and she began to dive deeper into the minds of those around her. She finally made her way around to Bucky's room and instantly dove into his mind to see what the scoop was from him.

She regretted it quickly.

Bucky was trying to figure out what exactly they could have done to Y/n in the space of two years to have that much control over her. In order to do that he had to go over what exactly they did to him. Bucky lasted for nearly twenty years before breaking. He thought over all the types of torture and brainwashing they put him through, not without a flinch or two. What in the world could they have done to this agent that he hadn't even met, to make her not have a shred of recognition in the span of two years?

Pietro's comment did cross his mind a time or two, 'What if she's weak?' It didn't say for long, however, from what he's heard about her from Steve, Natasha, Clint, even Tony a few times, she was strong-willed. And to be a Shield agent? That job isn't for the weak of heart.

He tried to stop thinking about it, but his heart ached for another soul crushed, just like his. He only hoped he could maybe help her. If they ever found her again.

Wanda found it hard to tear herself away from such thoughts. She tried, but they just kept drawing her into the heartbreak, the pain. By the time she was able to detach herself from the web of horrors that was Bucky's thoughts, Wanda was emotionally exhausted.

She had finally found a consequence of reading someone's mind: sometimes you really don't want to know.

She had to retire to her own room and sort out all the stuff she had learned, but she had also decided that maybe she shouldn't be using her powers so liberally. Maybe learning about this Y/n wasn't worth it. Maybe she should just leave it alone.

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

I have a confession to make. I had stopped being really proactive in my head for the past couple of months (I'm assuming a timeline here). Due to that, I could feel the dark walls around me becoming soft and pliable. They weren't pliable to me, but Noxy started to invade the little space I had. It was almost like I was being eaten. The part of my body's consciousness that was me was slowly disappearing. I didn't fight back either. What was the point?

I had never allowed myself to make up scenarios about meeting the Avengers again, about them saving me, helping me, beating me. It only made my helplessness feel worse. But now? Despite everything I tried, it was the only thing I could think about. Over and over again, different options, conversations, deaths came to mind about how this could end.

'What if I could talk to them?'

'What if I somehow gained control and could join them in the middle of battle?'

'What song could be playing to somehow give them a clue of how to beat Noxy?'

That was the one I chose to entertain the most. I tried to sort through my music library but with music as my natural defense system, the lyrics seemed to be slipping away from my grasp into the dark expanses of my mind. I could only hope that the melodies were also engraved on my heart so that they could never be taken from me.

The song that I chose that could maybe give them the best clue was Blinded by the Light by what's-his-face-that-starts-with-an-m.

I became obsessed with it. Its words were one of the songs that were slipping away, and I could only mumble a few of the lines, but by heaven did I sing them.

Over.

And over.

Again.

And again.

And then maybe once more.

Blinded by the light... revekjsmed up like a dochewekf. Ansldkjthor rumner in the night!

'Please find me. Take me down. Kill me, I don't care. I need out.'

The more I thought about it, the more I became a slave to the song, to myself, to the darkness keeping me imprisoned...

Maybe I wasn't as sane as I would like to believe.

Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=33ptulhhQPg

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madlori · 5 years

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Unveiled - Chapter 8

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Epilogue

by MadLori Word Count: 2300 Fandom: Men’s Hockey RPF Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin Rating: NC-17 (like, heed this, please) Tags: Arranged Marriage, Modern Royalty AU, Mpreg, Not Omegaverse, No Consent Issues, Veiled Sex, Weird Traditions, Don’t Think Too Hard, Handwavey Biology

NOTE: I posted chapter 7 earlier today - be sure you’ve caught up before moving on to this one.

Definitely yes sex in this one.

Read it on AO3

“How is your better half today?” Sasha asked, bringing Zhenya’s morning tea to his office. “Everyone’s been fretting about it.”

“He seemed much perkier this morning, actually. The doctor says it’s unpredictable, and that it comes and goes, but for a week now since the Judge’s dinner, it’s been more come and less go. I’m hopeful he will improve.”

Sasha nodded. “You sure have been talking a lot of walks,” he said, setting the tea and toast on Zhenya’s desk.

“So?”

“Walks down by the athletic fields.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Not a thing. If you weren’t looking for a certain guard out sparring with his comrades, there’d be even less wrong with that.”

“I’m not...looking for him.”

“No, you’re just frequently placing yourself in areas where you think he might be found.”

“That isn’t the same thing.”

“So if I were to tell you that just now I saw him and the other guards heading down there with their sparring gear, you’d say thank you, Sasha, that’s so interesting, and go back to reading the paper, right?”

Zhenya sat up straight, unable to keep himself from reacting. “Uh...yes. Of course.” He sat back, picking up the paper again.

Sasha laughed. “You asshole. Go. Better hurry.”

Zhenya hurried to his quarters and threw on exercise clothes, telling himself he was just going for a run, and made a beeline for the athletic fields. The Consort’s guards were there, but he was almost too late -- they were gathering up their gear. Sidney was among them, sweaty from his exertion and looking like a god. “Good morning, Your Royal Highness,” Fleury said, bowing.

“Good morning, Fleury. I’d hoped to get in some sparring practice myself, but I see I’m too late.”

Every one of the guards’ heads swiveled to look at Sidney. Nobody was fooled. Sidney’s eyebrow arched. “I could stay behind; I’m not on duty until this afternoon.”

“Well, there you go,” Fleury said, a bemused look on his face. “Come on, boys, Sid’s teaching private lessons.” They all trooped back up the hill, leaving them alone on the pitch.

Zhenya just stood there, feeling tongue-tied. Now that it was just him and Sidney, he didn’t know what to say, especially after their last conversation had ended so awkwardly. “I haven’t seen you around recently,” he said.

“It’s a big palace. His Highness has been sick, we’ve all been running errands for him. I spent a whole day scouring the city for this one brand of ginger ale he wanted.”

“He seemed much improved this morning.”

“Yeah, I think so, too. He said he was feeling pretty...spry.”

“I’m glad. Thank you for your efforts.”

Sidney shrugged. “I do what I can to help.” He tossed Zhenya a quarterstaff. “Let’s go, then. You wanted to spar.”

Zhenya took the staff, his least proficient skill. Sidney came at him, and he countered; for a few moments the only sound was their staffs striking each other. “I thought you might have been avoiding me,” Zhenya finally said, stepping back to catch his breath.

“Why would I do that?” Sidney said.

“After...what I said in the stable, the last time.”

“What kind of man would I be if I punished my friend for acting honorably?”

“So we are friends, then.”

Sidney stepped toward him, lifting his staff. “You were the one who said we might not be.”

Zhenya sighed. “I just -- I need to keep it straight in my head.”

“What’s to keep straight? You’re allowed to have friends.”

“I know. But you…” Zhenya stepped back and out of the spar. “Surely you know that I value you as a friend.”

“But you want more.”

“I can’t have more.”

Sidney planted his staff and leaned on it, sweat glistening at his temples and a flush of exertion staining his cheeks and making his full lips even redder than usual. “Zhenya, you’re the crown Prince. I’m a guard, and a temporary one at that. Whatever association you and I have is entirely up to you. You have your husband, who you are bound to by honor and the law. And then there’s me.” He grabbed his staff and came at him again.

“You know what it is that brings me to you,” Zhenya growled, low, striking faster and faster. Sidney’s breath sped up as he countered, their feet dancing on the grass.

Sidney shook his head. “Same thing that’s brought people sniffing around my door since I was sixteen years old,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact.

Zhenya stepped back. “You think that’s it? Your pretty face and your body?”

Sidney crowded up close, swung his staff, feinted and struck Zhenya behind his knees, knocking him onto his back. He crouched over him, staff planted next to his ear. “Tell me you don’t want me,” he said, his voice low and electric. Zhenya felt the jolt all the way up his spine.

“If I wanted an easy encounter, I could go out and have one. You don’t have the only good ass in this city,” Zhenya bit out.

Sidney cocked his head and smirked. “I beg your pardon. It’s a great ass.”

Zhenya burst to his feet, pushing Sidney back so he landed on the ass in question. “What are you trying to do here?” he said, looming over him. “I came out here to apologize.”

“And you have. I accept.”

“So what is this?”

For the first time, Sidney looked unsure of himself. “I...I don’t know. I'm as confused as you are, Zhenya. I never meant...things got out of hand. This was not the plan,” he said, this last bit said under his breath.

“Look,” Zhenya said, taking a step back. “Yes, I’m attracted to you, all right? But I also like you, I’ve liked you from the first. And I know I’m not...it wouldn’t be…” He broke off and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “I met my husband the day I married him. I’ve still never heard his voice or seen his face. I wouldn’t be the first embargoed prince to have…”

“A bit on the side?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Might as well have.”

“I didn’t expect any of this, either. My husband, he’s...not what I thought he’d be. Even through the embargo, I feel like I see him.”

The eyebrow again. “Oh you do, do you?”

“I don’t expect you to understand. I always hoped that maybe someday, I’d grow to be fond of him.”

“But ‘someday’ came faster than you expected, right? You’re already fond of him.”

“I feel obligated to him in a way I didn’t think I would.” He took a deep breath, then held out a hand to help Sidney to his feet, then pull him near. “You’re right,” he said, low. “I do want you. I want you so badly I can’t think straight from it sometimes.” Sidney was looking up at him with those wide, pretty eyes, his hard pulse visible in his throat. Zhenya ached for him, the ache made sharper with the knowledge that he couldn’t have him. “But he doesn’t deserve that.”

Sidney made a half-choked noise deep in his throat, then nodded, cutting his eyes down to the ground. “No, he doesn’t.” He shook his head, a wry smile curling his lips. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“You saying no is making me want you more.” He squeezed Zhenya’s hand and let it go, took the staff from him and walked quickly away.

Zhenya stood there for a few moments and debated going after him, but in the end he just trudged back to the palace, an untidy mix of relief and disappointment coursing through his veins.

---------

It was later than his usual bedtime when Zhenya retired after dinner with his parents and his brother, who was visiting from the mountainside holy retreat where he lived. He’d taken a new name, Victor, as his monastic name and Zhenya was still getting used to it. Victor hadn’t been present at the wedding but was thrilled to learn he was to be an uncle, throwing his arms around Zhenya and crying with joy. It was a warm and happy evening, and he was in a good mood as he entered the room he shared with his consort.

A mood that only improved when he discovered what awaited him there. The lights were dim, candles had been lit, and his consort had attractively arranged himself on their large bed, deliciously nude save for his veils. Zhenya stopped short just inside the door, soaking in this welcome. He shut the door and approached, smiling widely. He gestured to everything, including the consort himself, pressing his hands to his heart to indicate his deep approval of all of it.

The consort knelt up on the bed, touched his stomach and gave a thumbs-up, then flexed playfully, which Zhenya took to mean that he was feeling better and healthy. Zhenya reached out and touched his veiled cheek, then pointed to the bathroom. The consort nodded and resumed his reclining pose on the bed, a hand slung over his hip, making Zhenya want to be quick about it.

He stripped and took a fast shower, his cock fattening with the thought that he might be getting sex tonight for the first time in well over a week. That wasn’t a long time, but after the frequent couplings of their first few weeks together, it felt like an eternity.

When he returned to the bed, his consort’s hands were eager on his body, laying him out and stroking him. He shimmied down Zhenya’s chest and got his mouth on him fact, with a practiced shifting of his veils. Zhenya groaned -- they’d both grown a little lax with nonverbal sex noises, despite the embargo -- and rested his hand on the back of the consort’s head. No sooner was he fully hard than the consort pulled away. He straddled Zhenya’s hips on his knees and shuffled closer, his own hard cock jutting towards him; Zhenya put a hand on it, wondering what this man had in store for him tonight.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out. The consort picked up one of his hands and guided it around to his ass, pushing Zhenya’s fingers between his cheeks...Zhenya’s eyes widened as he realized that his husband had obviously prepared himself ahead of time. His asshole was slick with lube; Zhenya’s fingers slid in with little to no resistance. The consort reached under the pillow and pulled out the lube; he handed it to Zhenya, then turned and faced away from him. He got on all fours and spread his thighs, presenting his ass; Zhenya’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. The consort turned his head to look over his shoulder at him, as if to ask what Zhenya was waiting for.

He scrambled to his knees, uncapping the lube…but first, this ass deserved to be worshiped. He bent low and kissed the flesh, leaving quick bites all over the smooth skin, his hands kneading it. He bent and swiped his tongue up his husband’s center, drawing shudders and growls from him. Lubing his fingers, he slid three into him, twisting and crooking them to find just the right spot. The consort’s back arched and he writhed in pleasure, his hands fisting in the bedsheets and his chest heaving. He reached back and grabbed Zhenya’s hip, yanking him close. Zhenya grinned; evidently someone was impatient tonight.

Zhenya lubed his cock -- he wasn’t sure he’d ever been this hard in his life -- and seated it against his consort’s asshole. He gripped his hips and pushed forward; the consort’s head sagged down and he pressed back against him, taking more of Zhenya’s cock into his body. Zhenya’s cock was not small, and he knew to take this slowly, but his consort had other ideas. Before Zhenya could inch forward, he pushed back hard, and Zhenya slid all the way inside him. He gasped and clutched the consort’s hips, his groin pressed against the man’s ass. The consort was making a barely-there whine in the back of his throat, his pelvis shifting as he seated Zhenya’s cock deep inside him...and then he pulled off and thrust back, obviously ready. Zhenya made a few experimental thrusts; God, he felt amazing, hot and tight and so responsive, always wanting more. He grasped the consort’s veiled shoulder with one hand and his hip in the other and fucked him, as hard and fast as the consort was demanding with every movement of his body against Zhenya’s.

He shifted his angle a little until he found the right one to drive his consort mad. He knew it when he hit the spot; the consort’s whole body jerked and shuddered. Zhenya slid one hand beneath him to stroke his mate’s cock; he found it hard and leaking already. His hand was batted away and a quick thumbs-down popped up; evidently, his mate didn’t like to be jerked off while getting fucked. Zhenya wanted him to come, though, and wondered if they could manage that without either of them touching the consort’s cock.

He needn’t have worried about it. After a few minutes his husband’s body went taut, and he came without his cock being touched at all. Zhenya didn’t know whether to be amazed at his consort, or at himself, but he didn’t have much time to debate because after a few more strokes he was coming, too. He allowed himself a cry of ecstasy as he spilled into his consort’s body. Zhenya sagged against the consort’s back, breathing hard, his cock softening inside him. The consort reached back to cup the back of Zhenya’s neck; Zhenya dared to shift the veils just enough to bare a little bit of his shoulder and kiss it reverently, his mind clear of anything -- of anyone -- but this.

Next Chapter

#unveiled #sidgeno #sidgeno fic #hockey rpf #unveiled chapters #my writing #you asked for it so here it is

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efrmellifer · 4 years

Text

The Widow AU, Part Two

warning for: still talking about death

After days of held breaths, of stoking fires, of combing her hair for her and consulting with chirurgeons, Etien’s eyes opened.

She tried to sit up, and was gently held down before she could. “Stay down,” Artoirel told her. “You’ve been out cold for days. And I do mean cold. You were discovered by Providence Point, passed out in the snow. What were you doing out there?”

She blinked for a moment, squinting slightly. Then it hit her, and she gasped. “The graves there. You know, you can see Ishgard so clearly from that overlook. It’s like they’re watching over all of us forever now. For whatever comfort that can give me. Give us.”

Artoirel hummed. She still sounded pretty bad, throat still evidently raw. “You still need rest. I will return in a little while to see if you need anything else.”

While she accepted the tea they brought her, sipped daintily at broths she was offered, Etien stayed in bed for more days following, never leaving the room.

They worried— of course they worried, when they’d seen Etien horridly sad over smaller losses— but they knew they had to let her go through this. The weight, the fate, of the world was going to be laid on her shoulders again soon enough. If she wasn’t as healed as she could be from this, she was going to collapse under it. Etien had the power to take the world down with her grief, and they didn’t want that for her. Or anyone.

So they left her alone to mourn, and Fury willing, to heal.

Well, until they had a visitor come calling when he heard she was back in Ishgard.

“Estinien,” Artoirel greeted him when he had come into the foyer of the home.

“Lord Artoirel,” he responded evenly.

“I assume you came to see Etien?”

“If she’ll have me.”

Lightly, Artoirel laughed. “How many times have you said that?”

“Twice, maybe three times now. And yet, that’s more than I care to count.”

He was led through the house, to Etien’s room. They knocked, and hearing nothing, cracked open the door.

“She may be asleep,” Artoirel explained. “She has been sleeping a lot. She needs the rest, though, after being found halfway to dead in the highlands.”

But her sleeping form was not what they saw in the sliver of light coming through the door.

Her ears lifted a little, though they hadn’t been properly perked in what felt like weeks now. They still weren’t. “H-h’lo?” She called into the air.

Estinien didn’t say anything, just stepped through the doorway and into the room. He was still silent as he slid under the covers behind her, looping his arms around her. For a while he kept it up, until he sighed out an “Etien” roughened by sorrow.

She turned in his arms, so she could bury her face in his chest. “I can only imagine how you must be hurting,” she lamented, “loving him longer than I did.”

He held her a little tighter, a little more securely. “Longer, mayhap. But I didn’t love him like you did. No one could.”

Artoirel smiled just a little, seeing that Etien had at least relaxed a little, now that Estinien was with her. He left them alone, letting the door swing shut.

Neither Etien nor Estinien spoke again for a long time. Etien just cried, and Estinien held onto her, watching the weak sunlight move across the floor, smelling her lavender soap much more faintly than usual.

They didn’t speak, because what was there to say? Etien had always said being away from Aymeric was like living without a limb. Well, now she wasn’t just without it. It had been blown off her, painful and devastating. Estinien couldn’t even imagine what it must have been like to come home, fully expecting to find rest and ease in the familiar arms she’d been missing, and instead, being told she would never be in his embrace again.

And Estinien himself had been working through the pain since the news had reached him. He knew that Etien knew the story, and that was why she thought his hurt must have been so much bigger than hers. A brother at arms turned lover, the pair spending years of their lives together, leaving an ache when that time was suddenly up.

It was then that the fullness of the phrase “until death do us part”— a vow he and Aymeric hadn’t explicitly made to each other— settled over Estinien.

That was why Estinien said that neither his nor Etien’s pains were larger. They had both come face-to-face with this inevitability, still bearing their distinct loves for him. Hers, eclipsing the pasts she and Aymeric had survived—had been forged by—and laying bricks for a shared future, and the future of Ishgard. And Estinien’s—he didn’t even really have words for it. It had never been entirely new, just present and accepted one day as they navigated their lives.

Neither pain was greater, and as far as Estinien was concerned, he and Etien had each other to help bear both. This wasn’t a competition. It was a common ground.

They understood. So they didn’t speak. Estinien wasn’t good at being comforting, anyway. He just made quiet shushing noises and patted Etien’s back.

Nothing was perfect, nothing had a chance at ever being perfect now, but that night, Etien came out of her room to eat.

Every other bite was punctuated with a sniffle, but she was eating. Her eyes were puffy, but they were open. She didn’t have back her voice that could belt chorales of courage, but she could say that yes, she was comfortable and yes, the food was all right.

Quietly, House Fortemps rejoiced. Their daughter, their sister, their hero, may well thrive yet. The world had no need to fear, she was going to rise from these ashes.

But slowly. Just because she had taken one step forward didn’t mean she was all better.

That night, they retired to the sitting room and she laid on the couch with her head in Edmont’s lap, as if she were a child, as tears still slowly leaked from her eyes.

“Are you ready to talk?” he asked softly.

She nodded. “There’s so much we never got the chance to do,” she said, voice already wavering. “I had intended to take him through the Black Shroud, picnicking in Gridania. There was this perfect spot just inside the Blue Badger gate, overlooking the water behind the Carline Canopy.” She let out a long sigh. “I was going to tell him that I was finally ready to have children.” A single breathy sob shook her body for a moment. “And now look at me. I’m a widow before I even turned twenty-six. Destined to be a childless weapon of the star. Does- does Hydaelyn hate me? She calls me her beloved daughter, but it seems she punishes me for every slight mistake. Or for no reason.”

Edmont’s hand glid over Etien’s hair, not sure how deep he should allow his fingers to delve, and trying not to touch her ears. “Hydaelyn is fickle, it seems,” he said in an attempt to be reassuring, though he had no idea if he was correct. “But know that I, who call you my daughter as well, will take better care of you than that.”

She sniffled. “Thank you.” She sat up, looking around. “Did my things come back from the Congregation?”

Edmont nodded. “Artoirel made sure your belongings were brought here. Shall we fetch them?”

“Just my knitting, please,” she said, relaxing into a comfortable position seated on the couch.

“Do you not want to rest?”

“I’ve been doing too much sleeping,” she replied, rifling through her bag, now that it was brought to her. She pulled out the mass of yarn and the needles, immediately setting to work.

She switched both needles to one hand every so often to wipe her eyes, but other than that and a tiny sigh every so often, it seemed the worst of the immediate reaction was over.

When she went to bed that night, she felt the emptiness of the space next to her acutely, but curled tighter around the blue cloth that had accompanied on every adventure since she’d left for Gyr Abania, she could pretend she was just sleeping in an inn bed in some distant land.

Well, if she weren’t so honest. But it did soothe her enough to let her get some sleep.

When the light of dawn started streaming into the room, she woke up and stretched, forgetting herself for a moment and rolling over to find… the wall. She got up and went back to knitting, beginning a plan for a different blanket than the one she had planned to make at first. She was going to need different yarn, but this square that she was knitting a heart into? It could stay.

She had finished that particular square, admiring it and feeling the beginning of tears as she thought about the love she still felt welling up with nowhere to put it now, and when she thought about how she used to knit—curled up on the loveseat, feet tucked under her, Aymeric holding the yarn for her.

But then she heard a knock at the door.

She looked up when she heard footsteps coming down the hall toward her room after that, quickly finger-combing her hair so she looked somewhere closer to presentable.

She was surprised to find the Leveilleurs making their ways into her room, but she opened her arms for them anyway, trying not to let the tears fall as they both began offering effusive condolences.

Over the course of the day, all the Scions had arrived at Fortemps Manor to pay her a visit—Alisaie and Alphinaud stayed at her side all day as she knitted and received first Y’shtola, then Tataru, followed by Urianger, and finally Thancred.

All of them had plenty of words for her, of sympathy and comfort alike. Tataru came bearing an exquisite outfit, one suited for giving a better goodbye to the husband she had loved so much she had saved a nation for him.

She held the garments in her hands, thinking mostly about how Tataru had constructed that gorgeous wedding dress for her such a short time ago, and now had made Etien her first mourning attire. But it, too, was beautiful. All she could say was a breathless, tearful “thank you.”

She changed into it while Thancred made a trip to the Jeweled Crozier, and when everyone had reconvened (and Etien was properly dressed to go out into the weather), all of them made the trip to Providence Point again.

When they arrived, she sank to her knees again, this time whispering a prayer, then a few words of her own choosing. Telling him how much she already missed him, how she would take care of Ishgard for him. That she hoped he would be waiting for her at the end of it all with open arms, like always.

Like she had last time, she kissed the headstone, and then, when she was starting to rise, Thancred handed her what he had gone to buy before—a bouquet of lavender and snowdrops, tied with a royal blue ribbon.

Her eyes welled as she took the flowers, mouthing a “thank you,” then laying them on the snow with all the love and reverence she could imbue into her motions.

And then, they headed home.

“What will you do now?” Y’shtola asked. “Will you stay here with the Fortemps family as you had been?”

Etien took a deep breath, clearing her throat. “I… I am the Lady Borel. That’s my house. And it’s my home. I might stay here for a few nights more, but I need to go home. Though… you’re all free to visit. It’s going to be a little empty otherwise.”

“We’ll be there,” Y’shtola assured her, touching her hand gently. “As long as you’ll have us.”

For the first time since that grimace she’d given Lucia, Etien smiled.

#fic #just another angsty AU

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zukalations · 5 years

Text

We Are EXCITER! - Farewell Talk (Matobu Sei and Fujii Daisuke)

This talk between then-Flower Troupe Top Star Matobu Sei and Takarazuka Revue director Fujii Daisuke was published for Matobu’s retirement in the April 2011 issue of Kageki.

We Are EXCITER! - Farewell Talk (Matobu Sei and Fujii Daisuke)

Fujii: Thank you so much for selecting me on this occasion. Even though we do talk once in a while already (laughs).

Matobu: But we don't talk in depth very often (laughs). Ever since EXCITER!!, I've been working with you the whole time. I think it must have never happened before, to work with the same director for 3 revues in a row.

Fujii: Yeah. Even though we hadn't had much of a connection before them. I'm glad to be able to work with you on your final show as well.

Matobu: I think the first time I worked under you might have when I did the Revolt of a Gallant Poet junior performance, while I was in Star Troupe. The other day, I read in my memorial book* some of the commentary you gave me back then...you don't remember, do you!? (laughs)

Fujii: Huh!? I don't remember a bit...

Matobu: I didn't remember it clearly myself, but you told me something like although I gave a sexy performance I was lacking in the subtle details. So after that, even now I'll wonder if I'm lacking in the subtle details (laughs).

Fujii: What...You put in so much subtle detail currently (laughs). I remember thinking that you were a really Takarazuka-esque otokoyaku, and that you were really pretty and Japanese-style productions suited you well.

Matobu: Before my transfer, I also worked with you on Soul of Shiva!!, but didn't really get a chance to actually talk to you. Therefore EXCITER!! must have been the first time we talked.

Fujii: Yeah. My impression of Yuu-kun (Matobu) back then was that you were really suited to acting-heavy plays like Shigure Hill Road in Nagasaki or The Rose of Versailles.

Matobu: Is that right, I hear that a lot...

Fujii: But since I felt that you were full of modern appeal, I thought that the show EXCITER!! would draw that out. And I think it went pretty decently (laughs).

Matobu: It was so much fun!

Fujii: Sometime when I wasn't paying attention it became a really sexy show. Although that gave me some concerns when I was creating the Mr. YU** scene. Before rehearsals started I tried asking you 'I put in a bit of a comedy section, is that okay?'...

Matobu: I told you I was also wanting something with the concept of goofing around during the day and turning into a gigolo at night and you said you were really happy. We felt like if we were going to do it we should go all out. ...How did that guy [Mr. YU] come into existence, anyway laughs).

Fujii: If I was investigating his background, I think it's most likely originating from Lina-chan, in Singin' in the Rain. You might have forgotten by this time, but I was attached to that production as an assistant.

Matobu: Ah, I'd totally forgotten that! (laughs)

Fujii: Yuu-kun's Lina was so funny and I thought you were amazing. "This girl is so clever and talented to be able to make her voice come out like that," I thought. I think it was starting there that I gradually got the impression of you as a comedienne. And then I went to see the show right before [EXCITER!!], Me And My Girl, and I thought "wow, this is great," so that's how MR. YU happened.

Matobu: I see, Bill's character was one of the elements then. So that's how it ended up as something so funny.

Fujii: But I never expected that it would be revived a year later.

Matobu: Although my partner had changed***, it was with the same troupe and the cast members were largely the same. I feel like being able to do EXCITER!! is my biggest achievement. I think it was a show that really showed off Flower Troupe, as well as being able to tie together with what Flower Troupe might become in the future.

Fujii: Right. Between the first performance and the revival, Yuu-kun became even more manly, like your manly intensity had leveled up. By the way, I actually really liked Xiang Yu from Yu the Beautiful. He's so honorable. At the end I had tears pouring down my face.

Matobu: That's the first time I've heard about this! (laughs)

Fujii: Xiang Yu suited you personality-wise so well that it was almost too much. And right after that was the revival of EXCITER!!, but even though your style and intensity had increased so much you were still willing to do something like MR. YU...

Matobu: I think I have so much of that side to me that I'd end up wanting to do it anyway (laughs).

Fujii: For some reason I have the notion that you can always hear lots of laughter from the area around Yuu-kun.

Matobu: (laughs). I think its because I have a really proper foundation of being a Takarazuka Otokoyaku that I can put a character like MR. YU on top of that. In the past I found it kind of embarrassing to do fanservice things, though.

Fujii: Actually, for this show, Le Paradis!!, I really struggled over whether or not to put in a MR. YU segment. Although in the end of course I gave it up (laughs).

Matobu: When EXCITER!! was restaged, I was able to discover new things about Flower Troupe and myself, so I feel like because we had that time working together, I was able to have a sense of comfort going into this show. I've felt so much love from all the directors and staff, with their consideration of "Since it's the last time, let's...". Sometimes it makes my heart ache.

Fujii: Right. I have so much love (laughs).

Matobu: (laughs) Also, it's so lovely to watch all the Flower Troupe junior actresses cheerfully enjoying themselves. For this black tux number, all of the otokoyaku are participating down to the ken-1s, and it made everyone really happy.

Fujii: That's right. After all, you wouldn't normally get a chance to be in a black tux number at ken-1.

Matobu: It's actually my first black tux number, at least in a finale, since I became Top Star. I think it's a great opportunity to demonstrate "This is our Flower Troupe!" When they were making the poster for my dinner show, too, I said it would be nice to wear just a simple black tuxedo without any decoration. Like, back to my foundations or something...

Fujii: Right, you said that in the end you wanted to be totally otokoyaku. I have to display the culmination of the otokoyaku Matobu Sei in this dinner show, so that's a lot of pressure for me...

Matobu: (laughs)

Fujii: I knew that no matter what I gave you you'll do it without any concern for yourself, Yuu-kun. Even if you're in difficulties or struggling you won't show it; obviously not on stage, but even during rehearsals you're really cheerful. If I was going to compare you to the sun or moon I think you're like the sun. Since you're someone who gives power to other people, you give the troupe a lot of energy as well. I really respect the way you refuse to show weakness.

Matobu: This is the first time anybody's told me this! This is such a big thing for me (laughs).

Fujii: Therefore, I think the momentary shadows that you'll sometimes allow to show, as well as your sexiness, are all part of the allure of the otokoyaku 'Matobu Sei'. In this revue, I wanted to let you show off your ultimate manliness as part of your send-off, so I had you doing a gigolo kind of thing. You can do romantic leads and comedy characters, men and women...your breadth is so large, not even as just an otokoyaku but as an actor.

Matobu: I'm so happy to hear you say that about my skills as an actor.

Fujii: You've played so many different types of roles on your way here, haven’t you. In The Rose of Versailles, last year****, your Andre had such a strong core and seemed so well put together. And then when your partner changed in Sabrina, you naturally had such a feeling of generosity about you, and it felt like you'd really grown up into a mature man.

Matobu: It's sort of hard to put into words, but my goal as an actor is not to personally decide on a set style, but be someone where the directors can imagine 'she could do this kind of role, or she could do that kind of role', so it makes me really happy to hear you say that as a director.

Fujii: It seems like it would be an easy thing not to decide on a 'color' and remain 'clear', but it's actually very difficult. I think it's very rare for a Top Star to be like that.

Matobu: When I first became Top, I was over-eager, so I thought 'I've got to be like this now!', but now I've become used to letting everyone in the troupe spoil me and letting them take care of things. I think without that side to me I can't achieve a full-sized performance onstage. An otokoyaku's heft, maybe, or that feeling of big-heartedness, or something...

Fujii: You already had achieved that by the time of the first EXCITER!! I thought you looked like someone who would think things over in detail in a rather cool manner, but you actually went for it full-on, which made me really glad.

Matobu: Thank you. Right now I'm having such fun being an otokoyaku. Since I've been told for so long that I'm really feminine, I want to be the manliest one on stage, to let the audience enjoy the incongruity of it, and also enjoying myself performing as well. There's no point in telling yourself 'I have to be like this' among so many other performers. What's the matter with my being a Top Star and having that 'gap', I thought, and decided I wanted to own that side of myself and stick with it. When I made that decision, things became so much fun I could hardly handle it.

Fujii: I think that's having a wonderful effect on the other Flower Troupe otokoyaku currently. Although they all work together so well, they also have such a sense of individuality, and I can sense how they each display their own strengths in performance, so I think it's because Yuu-kun is such a good leader.

Matobu: No, no...

Fujii: I think you've left the stamp of 'Matobu Sei' on them, and I think that's a wonderful thing both for Takarazuka and for Flower Troupe. It's hard to see someone I had achieved such mutual understanding with retire, but being able to stand together with you at the end is such an honor for me. I don't know what your future path will be, but since you're such a positive person I'm sure you will continue giving energy to people, so I'm not worried about you at all.

Matobu: I don't think I'll change at all even after I quit (laughs). Actually, if I hadn't had that first EXCITER!!, I might not have decided to retire.

Fujii: Huh, I made you decide to retire!? (laughs)

Matobu: (laughs) I felt I wanted to go on until I felt the current Flower Troupe had really been able to display itself, and it had parts where I could really show off, and besides that, when I felt that atmosphere of unity from all of Flower Troupe, I thought 'this is the moment one of my dreams came true'. Also, I could feel so much of the audience's feelings, and I felt so happy since I thought 'We're really sharing something amazing'. That was the moment I made that decision in my heart. The revival was hard since it is always a challenge to do the same thing again, but I was able to feel everything even more deeply, and recieving so much love made me so happy, so I was really happy to be able to do this last show together with Director Fujii. Director, I'm so glad I met you! Thank you so much.

Fujii: I should be saying the same thing to you. Come back and see Takarazuka sometime.

Matobu: Of course I will! Please invite me out to eat! I hope we can continue to have a good relationship!!

* It’s unclear if Matobu is referring to a private scrapbook or if she means the officially published compilation book of Takarazuka content put out for her retirement.

** A comedic ‘alter ego’ who appears in some of Matobu’s performances.

*** From Sakurano Ayane to Ranno Hana.

**** The Rose of Versailles: Andre Side Story, from 2009 (more like 18 months prior)

#takarazuka #article translation #mag: kageki #sienne: matobu sei #staff: fujii daisuke

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ahiddenpath · 5 years

Text

2019 Recap

I try to look back and ahead every year around this time, and here we are again! More below the cut.

Yikes, it’s been a crazy year, as anyone who’s been following the “hidden’s life” tag can attest.

I’m not sure where to start... I guess with the biggest thing?

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy/Mental Health

2019 was basically the year that I had enough and hit a point where I was desperate to make a change. I had known for years that I’d benefit from therapy (and now I sense that the vast majority of people would), but it never seemed worth the time, energy, and the vulnerable brutality that is facing, acknowledging, and accepting the scars crumbling my heart and memory. And then, around March this year, I suddenly couldn’t go on carrying everything anymore.

Desperate for change; I truly think that’s the best way to describe where I was. Nothing less could have pushed me through the difficulties of therapy. At the risk of being repetitive, it was like... One day, I was sitting on the couch and going, “Nah, I’ll manage as is.” And the next day, I was... Wearing expedition gear and crawling along the jungle floor with a machete in my teeth. Like, 0% to 1,000% overnight.

Basically, therapy is hard, intimidating, vulnerable work, and no matter how much you gently guide someone towards it... It tends to only happen when the person feels that they can no longer go on without help. I’d urge anyone who can feel the cracks forming to get help now, not after they become a full break. But I also know that sometimes... Sometimes, humans are only willing to acknowledge a problem when the pieces are scattered, and no illusions can remain.

It’s difficult, but I promise, it’s so, so worth it. All the tiny, almost imperceptible steps I’ve taken since March stretch out for miles behind me. I have miles waiting ahead, but I’m so much closer to the person I want to be. I’ve learned how to prevent others from weaponizing my empathy. I’ve learned when my thoughts and emotions stem from my anxiety, and not from me and the world around me. I’ve learned how to establish boundaries and do what I want, and not what other people want me to do (usually for them). I’ve processed a lot of the emotional abuse I faced, and although I thought I’d cling to the resentment a lot longer... My grip is already loosening.

It’s funny how much I actively wanted to continue nursing resentment. Now, I think of it as a huge suitcase that I was stubbornly choosing to lug around everywhere. Although no one enjoys carrying something heavy and harmful, letting go is difficult! Best case scenario, I’d put down the suitcase and walk away... But in reality, I’ve been opening it and leaving small parcels behind, one at a time. I can only discard the weight of a hurtful event after I’ve faced it and processed it. Even then, it never leaves. The memory of abuse is simply archived in my memory, instead of riding me and living in my thoughts and emotions from moment to moment.

GUYS, EVERYTHING IS SO MUCH BETTER NOW, I WANT TO SCREAM ABOUT HOW GREAT THERAPY IS! I want to somehow give everyone else this same opportunity to grow and process things! I wish I could! I LOVE YOU GUYS, PLEASE LOOK INTO THERAPY IF YOU THINK IT COULD HELP YOU!

Family

I have an incredible marriage, my husband is my rock and the light of my life, and I guess those two cats are okay, too XD

I’ve come such a long way in managing my relationships with my extended family. It’s about boundaries, realistic expectations, and prioritizing my needs. There have been times this year when my family relationships sent me into a stress/anxiety spiral, but I’m learning and making progress.

Work

Okay, look: work is work, no matter what. I still have trouble getting up, I still often feel like I will lose my mind if I don’t get a break. I often wish I could somehow miraculously have a month off to do nothing; not travel, not do some big thing, nothing. I literally want to sleep and eat and exercise and write and drink coffee for a month.

Otherwise... Work has been amazing this year. I’ve never been in a better position in my working life, and I’m thrilled? Okay, so basically what happened is that my boss, my old supervisor, retired some time in... September? And she promoted me before she left (hooray!). The director of molecular biology asked me if I wanted to work for him, or be moved under another manager. I don’t like this other manager at all (she has her people work an extra hour a day, often literally running-around-busy, and then tells them they don’t do enough), so I asked to work under the director, and this was granted.

The director doesn’t have time to make sure that every single second of my work day is booked, so I can actually take a lunch now, and even chat with coworkers. He also doesn’t have time to plan experiments, so I’ve been learning so much! It’s amazing! He explains what we need to do, and I figure out how to do it, and suddenly, I’m learning and reporting to other directors and understanding everything and I’ve never been happier at work.

I’m a little concerned because money seems extra tight this year- my company could honestly fall apart at any time, because we don’t have a product yet, and the strain grows more visible as we continue to limp along. But I can’t control that, so I’m going to do my best and enjoy where I’m at and learn and grow and be so grateful.

Health

I have a feeling that my health is going to be priority #1 in 2020.

I’ve been struggling with all kinds of things: aches and pains, gallbladder issues, digestive problems, low energy.

Next year, I want to prioritize daily exercise and eating well. Frankly, I’ve discovered that I love my life, and I would very much like to continue doing so for a long time.

Creativity

In 2019, creativity and exercise took a back seat to mental health. I feel like I’m always juggling, but I can never keep all of the balls in the air. It’s like... I have the balls of job/adult obligations, mental health, physical health, relationships, and self actualization. I pretty much held my adult responsibilities in one hand and my mental health in the other in 2019. I really, really want to get all of the balls in the air in 2020, including my creativity.

It’s not as if I did nothing last year. I won Nanowrimo (although none of the content is posted), I completed After August, and I’ve worked a bit on Seeking Resonance.

I’m hoping to complete Seeking Resonance in 2020, but mostly... I just want to prioritize feeding my creativity and expression. I’m not sure what that will look like yet.

Overall

One thing you might have noticed is that I didn’t keep a tally of things I accomplished/books I read/writing I did/trips I took/etc. I used to... Well, to use productivity to feel good, to convince myself that I hadn’t wasted my time.

Now, I know that productivity isn’t an indication of happiness. Heck, achievements aren’t, either. Right now, growing and caring for myself are my priorities. I feel privileged to have this opportunity to focus on myself.

As always, there are so many things beyond my control (political stuff, environmental stuff, unforeseen disasters, etc). I have a lot of work to do on myself. Regardless, I’m optimistic, I’m happy, and I’m ready.

I’m wishing you and yours health and happiness in 2020. I love you!

#2019 review #2019 year end #2019 looking back #hidden's life #2019 recap

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wallwindow · 8 years

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So for this weekend, I intended to finally continue writing this NijiAka fanfic I’ve been trying to finish for weeks already which I actually started writing last year before I had major writer’s block, but then I ended up being infatuated with Ohkuchi Kengo after randomly re-watching some video clips from the Rock Musical Bleach (Burimyu) some days ago (he played as Aizen-taichou)! (O_o)

It has been many years since I last watched it and actively followed the stage actors’ careers, and so I looked up if what he has been up to lately... and discovered that he already retired from being an actor last August 2016!!! AAAHHHHHHH I TOTALLY DIDN’T EXPECT THAT!!!! I WAS SO SURPRISED AND LATE TO THE NEWS!!!! When I was fangirling over anime-turned-musicals more than 10 years ago (specifically Tenimyu and Burimyu), I was obsessed with Tuti and Nagayan (who played Golden Pair in Tenimyu and Gin and Hitsugaya in Burimyu) so I didn’t pay attention to Ohkuchi Kengo that much... But after re-watching the Catharsis of Eternity video clip this week, I realized he’s actually very cool~ (>_<) It’s such a shame that he retired already... (;_;)

To make up for the sadness I’m feeling, last Friday night I decided to watch this one sentai series he was in (Ressha Sentai Toqger, he was the main villain), and before I know it I finished the entire 47 episodes already. OTL OTL I’m not really a fan of sentai series though so I mostly just skipped to his parts every episode... and I ended up being more infatuated aaahhhh~~ He’s such a cool villain!!! *sobs* I had too much fun screencapping a lot of his scenes... (@_@)

KENGO-SAAANNNNN WHY DID YOU RETIRE????? *CRIES* I regret not fangirling over you back then~~~ (T______T)

#personal #my heart ached a lot when i discovered he already retired ;______;#excuse me while i fangirl over ohkuchi kengo 10 years too late #i literally spent my entire weekend watching a sentai series for his sake oh woe is me #sudden fangirling

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mldrgrl · 7 years

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The Madeleine Moment

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG-13 (language) Summary: For @thexmasfileschallenge Gingerbread prompt. Revival era fic.

Scully didn’t have any qualms about selling her mother’s house. Charlie was the only one of the Scully kids to have lived in it for any amount of time - their parents having moved into it when he was a junior in high school. It had never been home for Scully, just the place where her parents lived once her father retired. She’d come “home” for holidays from school for the first few years, but after Charlie left, there were years where Scully was the only one there at Christmas. If she really thought about it, the last time they’d been together as a whole family, she was 15.

The house had been on the market for over a month. The realtor had warned her that the market was slow between Thanksgiving and New Years’ and not to expect much. It didn’t matter much to her. She’d already taken weeks to clear out the house in between cases with Mulder’s help. It felt like she’d spent more time there since her mother died than she had when her mother was alive. There wasn’t much there that held any significance to her.

When the house had been emptied, the realtor she chose suggested staging certain rooms to give people an inviting feel. Whatever the woman wanted to do to sell the house, Scully was fine with. She gave her the keys and thought nothing of it until the weekly texts came with questions or updates. It had been nearly six weeks since Scully had been to the house, but a few days prior, when she had been in Missouri on a case, the realtor called and told her that on one of her tours, some boxes were discovered beneath the cellar stairs and did she want to pick them up or dispose of them?

So, Scully found herself attending the regularly scheduled Sunday open house to pick up the mystery boxes from her mother’s cellar. Mulder drove her in case it required heavy lifting - a bit of a pretense since they both knew he’d have driven her regardless. They hadn’t spent a weekend apart in three months.

“They changed the landscaping,” Mulder noted as he parked the car in front of the house.

“Took out the rose bush mom always liked though,” Scully said, her eyes shifting over the changes that had been made to the front yard. It was tidier and less dense. A lot of the overgrown shrubbery had been cut back or removed.

Mulder got out of the car, bouncing the keys in his hand as he waited for her on the sidewalk. She got out and buttoned her jacket up against the cold wind. With only a glance over his shoulder, Mulder held his hand out to her and she took it as they strolled up the walkway to the front door. For the first time, she did feel rather odd knocking on her mother’s door, knowing that someone else was going to answer.

“Dana,” Suzanne Wheatley said with a chipper smile as she opened the door. “And Mr. Mulder. It’s good to see you.”

Scully stepped into the foyer, Mulder behind her, and silently took in the front room. The staged decor was minimalist and sleek. The walls were bare, yet strategically placed floor lamps, even a large, silver mirror placed just so, gave the room an oddly cozy feel despite it being so stark. Stark compared to her mother’s taste.

“The boxes are in the closet in the laundry room,” Suzanne said. “Feel free to have a look around. I was actually just about to call the office to have my assistant book a second appointment with a couple that expressed a lot of interest in the house. Fingers crossed!”

Scully unbuttoned her coat and looked back at Mulder when Suzanne walked away. “Different,” he mouthed to her. She nodded. He followed her deeper into the house, towards the formal dining room. She paused and her heart began to pound rapidly against her chest with sudden intensity. She breathed shallowly through her nose. The scent of gingerbread hung in the air.

*****

Her first Christmas home from college, and the first at the new house, Mom wanted to throw a party. It would just be church friends, of course, as they really hadn’t gotten to know any of the neighbors yet. Charlie had better things to do and got out of it, but Dana felt obliged to help. Melissa had just moved back in with their parents, sort of, having just returned from Europe on a trip to ‘find herself’ though all she really found was another boyfriend. She was gone most days, and nights, at this new boyfriend’s apartment, the irony being she’d met him in Spain while he was in an exchange program from American University.

For the four days she’d been home, Dana had had to endure her father’s continual ranting about Melissa’s irresponsibility and Charlie’s foolishness while he praised Bill Jr.’s determination, singling her older brother out as a role model, but saying nothing about his youngest daughter’s 4.23 GPA her first semester of college or the fact that she’d accomplished it while being a year younger than the rest of her classmates. He’d only gruffly commented that she’d better not lose focus since before she knew it, med school would be around the corner.

At two a.m., after sending her mother to bed, Dana sat at the dining room table amongst dozens of gingerbread cookies. She’d helped in the kitchen, rolling dough and cutting cookies for at least six batches, all of which were now cooled and in need of icing. As it grew later, her mother had gotten more distraught about the time it was taking and how she needed to be up in mere hours to dress the turkey, not to mention all the other cooking that needed to be done. Dana told her mother just to go sleep, that she would do the icing.

Dana had only gotten through four cookies when Melissa slipped in through the back door. She was as stealthy and quiet as a mouse, having learned the fine art of sneaking in at the wee hours of the morning quite early on.

“Jesus,” Melissa hissed, dropping her bag on the table before pulling off her jean jacket. “What in the hell are you doing making cookies at two a.m.?”

“Watch it!” Dana whispered, putting her arm out to protect the cookies from the contents of Melissa’s bag, which were dangerously close to spilling out over the table and ruining at least one plate of gingerbread men.

“This is insanity. Mom is fucking insane, you know that, right?”

“She’s not insane, she just wants to have a nice party.”

“Insane.” Melissa shook her head and then disappeared into the kitchen. She came back out a few minutes later with two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

“Missy!” Dana chastised. “Put that back!”

“Oh, Dana, lighten up. You’re in college now, you can’t tell me you haven’t had a drink or two at a party.”

“I don’t have time for parties, I need to study.”

Melissa rolled her eyes and poured out two shots anyway. She sat down in the chair next to Dana and slid one of the glasses towards her. Without waiting, she downed her own shot, winced and hissed, and then picked up one of the cookies, cut into the shape of a tree, and grabbed the green tube of icing. Dana stared at her.

“I need fortification if I’m going to spend all night icing cookies for our insane mother,” Melissa said, and then nodded to the shot glass in front of Dana. “You do too. Drink up.”

Dana hesitated, but then threw the shot back. She coughed and her eyes watered. She had to wipe her mouth with her sleeve to rid the stinging from her lips and then she went back to work icing the snowman cookie in front of her. She got through two more cookies, in silence, before Melissa poured them another shot.

“This sucks,” Dana murmured, staring at the imbalance between iced and plain cookies in front of them. The second shot had gone straight through her like fire, liquefying her muscles and loosening her tongue. “It really fucking sucks.”

“I’m helping. We’ll get through it in no time. Tell me about school.”

“School fucking sucks too.”

“Why?”

Dana sighed. “I don’t know.”

“There has to be a reason.”

“I…” Dana stopped herself. She was about to start spilling secrets she swore she wouldn’t tell, but she ached to tell someone. She was never very close to her sister. They were too different. Melissa was cool and sophisticated in a way Dana would never be. She’d idolized her older sister when they were kids, but as they grew up, they also grew apart. She didn’t know much about Melissa’s life beyond the judgmental disdain their parents had for how she lived it.

“Fine,” Melissa said, reaching across Dana for one of the gingerbread men to ice. “I probably wouldn’t get it anyway, right? Since I’m the irresponsible fuck-up who never went to college.”

“It’s nothing like that.”

“I’m sure.”

“I...I lost my virginity,” Dana whispered, sudden tears pricking her eyes which she blinked away.

“Well, fucking finally,” Melissa answered, but she put down the icing and turned to her sister. “Don’t worry about it, Dana, it’s not that big of deal. You’re not a whore and you’re not going to hell, despite what those idiot nuns have tried to pollute your brain with. It’s natural, completely nat-”

“That isn’t it,” Dana interrupted, shaking her head. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and then bit her lip.

“Look, if you’re pregnant, I’ll help you deal with it.”

“That’s not it. I...he hasn’t spoken to me since it happened. I’m afraid maybe I did something wrong or...or…”

“Listen, men are assholes. He hasn’t talked to you because he’s an asshole, not because you did something wrong.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh, but I do know. Trust me. I’m sorry, babe, if you think he broke your heart, but he won’t be the last. It’s only the worst because he’s the first.”

“That’s not really that comforting.” Dana’s voice squeaked as her throat closed and a hot tear rolled down her cheek. Melissa reached over and brushed it away.

“You are so fucking amazing, Dana. You deserve someone so much better than...what was his name?”

“Miles.”

“Miles? Jesus, Dana, you’re crying over some tool named Miles? You are definitely better than any asshole named Miles.”

Dana could help the soft laugh that bubbled up from her chest and then she wiped her eyes. The sting of rejection lifted a little, but it was still painful to think about. She had a sudden terrifying thought that her parents would find out and she nervously licked at the side of her lip as she glanced at the doorway to the front room.

“You...you won’t tell Mom, will you?” she asked.

“Oh come on, Dana.”

“I don’t think she would understand.”

“Huh.” Melissa arched her left eyebrow and picked up the tube of icing again. “Have you ever taken a look at Billy’s birth certificate?”

“No.”

“June 1, 1960.”

“I know that.”

“Date of parents’ marriage, January 22, 1960. I know I’m not great at math, but that doesn’t add up to nine months to me.”

It was Dana’s turn to raise her brow. “Are you serious?”

“Listen, if Mom ever tries to lecture you about premarital sex being a sin, you just drop that little fact on her and see how fast she shuts up.”

“Oh my God.”

“Look.” Melissa held up the gingerbread man she’d been icing. Dana’s cheeks darkened. Her sister had iced genitalia between the cookie’s legs.

“Melissa!”

“I’m calling him Miles.”

Dana’s cheeks grew even redder. “We can’t put that cookie out for Mom’s church friends.”

“We’re not going to. You’re going to take this cookie and bite his dick off.”

“Melissa!” Dana gasped, but then she started laughing as Melissa waved it in front of her face.

“Come on, Dana. He deserves. Bite it right off.”

“Oh my God.” Dana took the cookie and after a few moments of hesitation, she closed her eyes and bit it in half.

“There you go. Fuck you, Miles, and your dumbass name.”

Dana brushed cookie crumbs from her lap and gave Melissa the other half of the cookie. She supposed the loss of one gingerbread man would go unnoticed. There were still so many to ice though, and it was almost three in the morning.

“Why did she have to make so many cookies?” Dana murmured, sighing as she picked up a plain one to ice.

“Because she’s fucking insane,” Melissa answered.

*****

Mulder put his hands on Scully’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze. She blinked and tipped her head back to look up at him. He gave her a quizzical look and she reached up to cover one of his hands.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Thinking about your mom?”

“No, actually.” She shook her head.

“You want to grab those boxes and get out of here?”

“Yeah?”

Mulder gave her another squeeze and then dropped his hands. He moved through the kitchen and she followed, pausing at the oven to bend and peer into the window. She remembered reading once that a trick of selling real estate was to make the house smell like cookies. Sure enough, a sheet of gingerbread men were baking inside. She breathed deep and closed her eyes.

“Usually I do chocolate chip,” Suzanne said from behind her. “But, my daughter has a holiday party at school tomorrow and I needed to do gingerbread men.”

“They look good,” Scully said, straightening.

“Found the boxes,” Mulder, coming into the kitchen with the two boxes stacked on top of each other in his arms.

“We have to get going,” Scully said to Suzanne.

“Well, I just made a second appointment with some buyers for Tuesday. Hopefully I’ll have good news for you!”

“Thanks.”

Scully went out ahead of Mulder and guided him down to the car. She popped the trunk with her set of keys and he placed both boxes inside. He was about to close the door, but she stopped him and asked for his pocket knife. He pulled it out of his pocket and then broke through the tape on both boxes before stepping back to let Scully open them.

“Huh,” Scully said.

Mulder looked over her shoulder and pulled the flaps of the boxes open. “Jelly jars?”

“Boxes of jelly jars.”

“Was your mom big into canning?”

“Not at all. Not that I know of.”

“Huh.”

Scully started to laugh. “Sometimes she was just fucking insane.”

Mulder turned his head towards her and raised his brows. She chuckled and put her hand on his arm. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go home.”

The End

#i wrote this #xf fanfic #msr #I'm feeling very into Melissa Scully right now #angst lite

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officialpeebee · 7 years

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Annum (for tessa1972)

commissioned by @tessa1972 - thank you so much! it was a pleasure working with you!

art by @noctuaalba - fic by me

“Well,” David said, closing the door of his chamber behind him. “That was something.”

“It certainly was.” Dorian was in the process of uncorking a bottle of Antivan wine. He poured them both a glass, then moved to sit on the large sofa by the hearth. A fire already roared there, chasing the winter chill from the room.

David took a seat beside Dorian, accepting the wine gratefully. He had already consumed a fair amount that evening, but a night of dancing and dealing with the Orlesian nobility had gone a long way towards sobering him up.

Dorian touched his glass to David’s. “To us,” he said.

“To us,” David echoed. Those two words had become a common toast in the past year, but tonight they held a special significance. They had danced together in front of the assembled court of Halamshiral, gathered at the Winter Palace to celebrate the anniversary of Corypheus’s defeat. David had been nervous, but his anxiety had melted away when he stepped out onto the polished floor with Dorian on his arm. There may as well have been no one else in the room, so focused was he on his partner.

A twinge of pain in David’s hand distracted him from these thoughts, and he gritted his teeth and flexed his fingers against the sudden ache.

“Are you alright, Amatus?” Dorian asked, his dark brows knitting with worry.

“I’m fine,” David replied. It was only half a lie. That time it had not been especially bad, but recently these sudden stabs of pain had grown more and more frequent. The skin around the anchor’s mark had grown dark, like a septic wound, and he had taken to wearing gloves to cover it. He did not wish to dwell on that tonight, though.

“What were you talking to Comtesse Lutetia about, anyway?” David said, changing the subject. “Your conversation seemed rather… engrossing.”

Dorian waved his hand dismissively. “She cornered me. Had a plethora of questions about Tevinter butterflies, as though I would know the first thing about them.”

“Don’t you?” David grinned over the rim of his glass. “I thought you knew everything about everything.”

“We have discovered a rare gap in my education, it would seem.”

“Whatever will people say?” David moved his arm across the back of the sofa, draping it lazily across Dorian’s shoulders.

“No more than they say already,” Dorian snorted indecorously. “My lack of interest in lepidopterology is hardly the most scandalous thing about me. I think my being a wicked Tevinter altus rather covers that.”

“Of course,” David nodded. “What was it that Fereldan fellow called you at dinner last month?”

“‘A purveyor of blood magic and pagan rituals’,” Dorian said. He laughed at the memory, but his eyes were thoughtful.

David took a sip from his glass, looking at Dorian intently. He knew that pressing the mage to reveal what was on his mind would garner no results; he responded better to an attentive audience than to endless questioning.

“I had thought,” Dorian began, measuring his words carefully, “that I might have seen something of a shift in attitudes by now. The Venatori are crippled. Maevaris is pushing for reforms in the Senate. Yet to hear people talk outside of Tevinter you would think we were all storybook villains.”

“These things take time,” David said. “There are many who still speak openly against the Inquisition, despite all we’ve done for Thedas. Changing attitudes on that scale takes years. Decades, even.”

Dorian did not look comforted by this. “I had hoped for a start. That is why I left Tevinter, after all.”

At his words David felt his blood run cold. “You’re doing great work here,” he said. “Look at this evening. How many influential people were there? You made an impression on them. They know you were instrumental in defeating Corypheus.”

David hoped that his words were convincing. What he said was true; Dorian’s involvement with the Inquisition had done nothing but improve Tevinter’s reputation. Yet that was not his only motive for encouraging Dorian to stay.

For the past several months Dorian had been speaking of his homeland more and more frequently. Despite his insistence that he would remain at the Inquisitor’s side no matter what happened, it was clear to David that part of Dorian’s heart remained in Tevinter. The desire to improve the lot of his people still drove him, and it was becoming increasingly clear that he could only do so much while he remained at Skyhold.

But remain he did. His unflinching loyalty kept him there, as did his love for David. Sometimes the Inquisitor wondered if it was fair, Dorian staying with him at the expense of his own ambitions. Those thoughts did Dorian a disservice, however, and David knew it; if the mage decided he was needed elsewhere he could not be kept from leaving. His moral conviction was partially what had attracted David to him in the first place.

“Don’t worry,” Dorian said, his hand cupping the back of David’s neck. “I’m not about to go charging back to Tevinter on a whim. Not without you, anyway.”

His mouth quirked into a smile a moment before David leaned forward to kiss him. He could taste the wine on his lips, sweet and rich.

“Regardless,” Dorian said when they finally broke apart. “Who will stop you getting yourself into trouble if not me?” He took a lock of David’s hair between his fingers, toying with it absently. “Sera? Varric?”

David laughed. “Well. There is that.”

The two of them talked for a long time that night, not retiring to bed until the sky was paling on the horizon. They spoke of small things. Inconsequential things. They reminisced about their time pursuing Corypheus and gossiped about their friends. It was simpler than speaking of their fears for one another. That would have to come, of course, and they both knew it. But not until later.

For now they were satisfied with what they had. A pleasant evening, and wine, and one another.

#illustrated fic commissions #dragon age #dorian pavus #inquisitor trevelyan #david trevelyan #dragon age inquisition

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ahighlandfling · 5 years

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Volunteer work is one of the best ways to further any skill, and is an excellent form of continual professional development. If you have an employable skill already, doing volunteer work opens up doors for things like work/stay opportunities. This is one way Riley and I were able to secure free accommodation on our travels in the States.

Finding accommodation in exchange for some work was much easier given that I’m a riding coach and trainer at home in Scotland, with years of experience with horses – something that’s always sought after, as caring for horses requires a lot of work! However if you can offer any skill that may be of use, or just a helping hand with something, there are many warm hearted people in the world that would love to open their doors to a traveller looking for a place to stay. Couch surfing is one way to do this that doesn’t require as much in exchange, however I wanted to challenge myself and explore a different equestrian culture to the one I’m used to in Scotland.

Luke, an Arabian gelding in AZ and I

After such a positive experience volunteering at Zephyr Horses in Byron Bay, Australia at the beginning of 2018, I wanted to explore equestrian culture in the United States, and try my hand at Western riding. It was as easy as making an advert, and posting it in some local horsey pages on Facebook for Arizona and Nevada – two places I was keen to see on my trip. I had also e-mailed a few ranches in California that were of interest, to see if they could offer accomodation in exchange for work. It paid off to contact several places, however I was delighted when Arthur from A&M Equestrian in AZ, offered both Riley and I, a place to stay while we were there.

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It was a privilege to work with such beautiful Arabians and ex-racehorses, and getting to try Western riding for the first time. After discovering a love for it – I’m now determined to invest in a western saddle myself at some point! Arthur and Catie, the owners of Arabians and More, are both exceptional horse people and were so generous with their time and knowledge during my stay. Their thoughtfulness, care, and consideration for the animals they have and train is expressed greatly in the horses personalities.

The establishment caters for lessons, training, and boarding. Catie and Arthur do a terrific job retiring and re-training racehorses, supporting them, and giving them the best start in their new careers and homes off the track. Catie has also recently competed in the Thoroughbred Makeover at the Kentucky Horse Park on her chestnut gelding Samendra, known as Hero. I had the privilege of getting to ride Hero while I was there (see photos below!). Incredibly, he had won over $153,000 in his time on the track, with his pedigree even including the well known racehorse – Secretariat! As a testament to the kind and brilliant training he’s received, and his lovely personality, he’s now turning his hoof to being a lesson horse to kids of all ages.

As well as re-affirming my love for Thoroughbreds, being at Arabians and More allowed me to fulfill my childhood ache for all things Arabian. I’ve had a love for this desert breed ever since I was a little girl, and getting to ride and work with them in America was incredible.

I rode a couple of fabulous Arabians while I was there, a grey gelding named Luke, in particular, made me realise just how agile this breed is. For the non-horsey folk out there, riding an Arabian is like driving a Lamborghini. They make for a sensitive and exciting ride, and with their level of intelligence, they’re incredibly fun to interact with. Luke gave me a fantastic core workout in our little sessions together!

Sunset shots of me during an evening ride with Luke.

The other place we stayed at was on Crazy Horse Ranch in Morongo Valley, California. This was with a lady named Jacklyn who ran the place herself, and hosts volunteers on a regular basis to help her around the ranch.

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We cared for a mixture of animals during our stay there, from horses, dogs, and rescued cats, to goats and chickens. It was an excellent base for Riley and I to visit the nearby Joshua Tree National Park, and see Los Angeles after our morning duties, and we had a lot of fun working together on various ranch tasks.

Riley even came out with us on a trail ride, and had his first canter on horseback! Total natural by the way.

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Our trip to the US was a memorable one, and I’m excited to go back in the future to experience more of their equestrian culture. Wyoming, Montana, and Texas are high on the list and I’m keen to try cutting and barrel racing! And to those who are interested in trying something new, broadening their skills, and immersing themselves in a slightly different way of life – I would highly encourage a working holiday or volunteering abroad. Most places you’ll find will be willing to offer accommodation, and even some food during your stay whilst you work or care for their animals/children – meaning the trip doesn’t have to cost you a fortune, but can still benefit you hugely when it comes to experience.

Photo credit to my lovely other half, Riley!

Volunteering in the USA Volunteer work is one of the best ways to further any skill, and is an excellent form of continual professional development.

#accomodation #america #animals #arizona #blogging #california #couch surfing #equestrian #horses #morongo valley #stay #usa #volunteering #work #work experience

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thesnhuup · 6 years

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Pop Picks – December 4, 2018

December 4, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Spending a week in New Zealand, we had endless laughs listening to the Kiwi band, Flight of the Conchords. Lots of comedic bands are funny, but the music is only okay or worse. These guys are funny – hysterical really – and the music is great. They have an uncanny ability to parody almost any style. In both New Zealand and Australia, we found a wry sense of humor that was just delightful and no better captured than with this duo. You don’t have to be in New Zealand to enjoy them.

What I’m reading:

I don’t often reread. For two reasons: A) I have so many books on my “still to be read” pile that it seems daunting to also reread books I loved before, and B) it’s because I loved them once that I’m a little afraid to read them again. That said, I was recently asked to list my favorite book of all time and I answered Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. But I don’t really know if that’s still true (and it’s an impossible question anyway – favorite book? On what day? In what mood?), so I’m rereading it and it feels like being with an old friend. It has one of my very favorite scenes ever: the card game between Levin and Kitty that leads to the proposal and his joyous walking the streets all night.

What I’m watching:

Blindspotting is billed as a buddy-comedy. Wow does that undersell it and the drama is often gripping. I loved Daveed Diggs in Hamilton, didn’t like his character in Black-ish, and think he is transcendent in this film he co-wrote with Rafael Casal, his co-star. The film is a love song to Oakland in many ways, but also a gut-wrenching indictment of police brutality, systemic racism and bias, and gentrification. The film has the freshness and raw visceral impact of Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing. A great soundtrack, genre mixing, and energy make it one of my favorite movies of 2018.

Archive

October 15, 2018

What I’m listening to:

We had the opportunity to see our favorite band, The National, live in Dallas two weeks ago. Just after watching Mistaken for Strangers, the documentary sort of about the band. So we’ve spent a lot of time going back into their earlier work, listening to songs we don’t know well, and reaffirming that their musicality, smarts, and sound are both original and astoundingly good. They did not disappoint in concert and it is a good thing their tour ended, as we might just spend all of our time and money following them around. Matt Berninger is a genius and his lead vocals kill me (and because they are in my range, I can actually sing along!). Their arrangements are profoundly good and go right to whatever brain/heart wiring that pulls one in and doesn’t let them go.

What I’m reading:

Who is Richard Powers and why have I only discovered him now, with his 12th book? Overstory is profoundly good, a book that is essential and powerful and makes me look at my everyday world in new ways. In short, a dizzying example of how powerful can be narrative in the hands of a master storyteller. I hesitate to say it’s the best environmental novel I’ve ever read (it is), because that would put this book in a category. It is surely about the natural world, but it is as much about we humans. It’s monumental and elegiac and wondrous at all once. Cancel your day’s schedule and read it now. Then plant a tree. A lot of them.

What I’m watching:

Bo Burnham wrote and directed Eighth Grade and Elsie Fisher is nothing less than amazing as its star (what’s with these new child actors; see Florida Project). It’s funny and painful and touching. It’s also the single best film treatment that I have seen of what it means to grow up in a social media shaped world. It’s a reminder that growing up is hard. Maybe harder now in a world of relentless, layered digital pressure to curate perfect lives that are far removed from the natural messy worlds and selves we actually inhabit. It’s a well-deserved 98% on Rotten Tomatoes and I wonder who dinged it for the missing 2%.

September 7, 2018

What I’m listening to:

With a cover pointing back to the Beastie Boys’ 1986 Licensed to Ill, Eminem’s quietly released Kamikaze is not my usual taste, but I’ve always admired him for his “all out there” willingness to be personal, to call people out, and his sheer genius with language. I thought Daveed Diggs could rap fast, but Eminem is supersonic at moments, and still finds room for melody. Love that he includes Joyner Lucas, whose “I’m Not Racist” gets added to the growing list of simply amazing music videos commenting on race in America. There are endless reasons why I am the least likely Eminem fan, but when no one is around to make fun of me, I’ll put it on again.

What I’m reading:

Lesley Blume’s Everyone Behaves Badly, which is the story behind Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises and his time in 1920s Paris (oh, what a time – see Midnight in Paris if you haven’t already). Of course, Blume disabuses my romantic ideas of that time and place and everyone is sort of (or profoundly so) a jerk, especially…no spoiler here…Hemingway. That said, it is a compelling read and coming off the Henry James inspired prose of Mrs. Osmond, it made me appreciate more how groundbreaking was Hemingway’s modern prose style. Like his contemporary Picasso, he reinvented the art and it can be easy to forget, these decades later, how profound was the change and its impact. And it has bullfights.

What I’m watching:

Chloé Zhao’s The Rider is just exceptional. It’s filmed on the Pine Ridge Reservation, which provides a stunning landscape, and it feels like a classic western reinvented for our times. The main characters are played by the real-life people who inspired this narrative (but feels like a documentary) film. Brady Jandreau, playing himself really, owns the screen. It’s about manhood, honor codes, loss, and resilience – rendered in sensitive, nuanced, and heartfelt ways. It feels like it could be about large swaths of America today. Really powerful.

August 16, 2018

What I’m listening to:

In my Spotify Daily Mix was Percy Sledge’s When A Man Loves A Woman, one of the world’s greatest love songs. Go online and read the story of how the song was discovered and recorded. There are competing accounts, but Sledge said he improvised it after a bad breakup. It has that kind of aching spontaneity. It is another hit from Muscle Shoals, Alabama, one of the GREAT music hotbeds, along with Detroit, Nashville, and Memphis. Our February Board meeting is in Alabama and I may finally have to do the pilgrimage road trip to Muscle Shoals and then Memphis, dropping in for Sunday services at the church where Rev. Al Green still preaches and sings. If the music is all like this, I will be saved.

What I’m reading:

John Banville’s Mrs. Osmond, his homage to literary idol Henry James and an imagined sequel to James’ 1881 masterpiece Portrait of a Lady. Go online and read the first paragraph of Chapter 25. He is…profoundly good. Makes me want to never write again, since anything I attempt will feel like some other, lowly activity in comparison to his mastery of language, image, syntax. This is slow reading, every sentence to be savored.

What I’m watching:

I’ve always respected Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, but we just watched the documentary RGB. It is over-the-top great and she is now one of my heroes. A superwoman in many ways and the documentary is really well done. There are lots of scenes of her speaking to crowds and the way young women, especially law students, look at her is touching. And you can’t help but fall in love with her now late husband Marty. See this movie and be reminded of how important is the Law.

July 23, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Spotify’s Summer Acoustic playlist has been on repeat quite a lot. What a fun way to listen to artists new to me, including The Paper Kites, Hollow Coves, and Fleet Foxes, as well as old favorites like Leon Bridges and Jose Gonzalez. Pretty chill when dialing back to a summer pace, dining on the screen porch or reading a book.

What I’m reading:

Bryan Stevenson’s Just Mercy. Founder of the Equal Justice Initiative, Stevenson tells of the racial injustice (and the war on the poor our judicial system perpetuates as well) that he discovered as a young graduate from Harvard Law School and his fight to address it. It is in turn heartbreaking, enraging, and inspiring. It is also about mercy and empathy and justice that reads like a novel. Brilliant.

What I’m watching:

Fauda. We watched season one of this Israeli thriller. It was much discussed in Israel because while it focuses on an ex-special agent who comes out of retirement to track down a Palestinian terrorist, it was willing to reveal the complexity, richness, and emotions of Palestinian lives. And the occasional brutality of the Israelis. Pretty controversial stuff in Israel. Lior Raz plays Doron, the main character, and is compelling and tough and often hard to like. He’s a mess. As is the world in which he has to operate. We really liked it, and also felt guilty because while it may have been brave in its treatment of Palestinians within the Israeli context, it falls back into some tired tropes and ultimately falls short on this front.

June 11, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Like everyone else, I’m listening to Pusha T drop the mic on Drake. Okay, not really, but do I get some points for even knowing that? We all walk around with songs that immediately bring us back to a time or a place. Songs are time machines. We are coming up on Father’s Day. My own dad passed away on Father’s Day back in 1994 and I remembering dutifully getting through the wake and funeral and being strong throughout. Then, sitting alone in our kitchen, Don Henley’s The End of the Innocence came on and I lost it. When you lose a parent for the first time (most of us have two after all) we lose our innocence and in that passage, we suddenly feel adult in a new way (no matter how old we are), a longing for our own childhood, and a need to forgive and be forgiven. Listen to the lyrics and you’ll understand. As Wordsworth reminds us in In Memoriam, there are seasons to our grief and, all these years later, this song no longer hits me in the gut, but does transport me back with loving memories of my father. I’ll play it Father’s Day.

What I’m reading:

The Fifth Season, by N. K. Jemisin. I am not a reader of fantasy or sci-fi, though I understand they can be powerful vehicles for addressing the very real challenges of the world in which we actually live. I’m not sure I know of a more vivid and gripping illustration of that fact than N. K. Jemisin’s Hugo Award winning novel The Fifth Season, first in her Broken Earth trilogy. It is astounding. It is the fantasy parallel to The Underground Railroad, my favorite recent read, a depiction of subjugation, power, casual violence, and a broken world in which our hero(s) struggle, suffer mightily, and still, somehow, give us hope. It is a tour de force book. How can someone be this good a writer? The first 30 pages pained me (always with this genre, one must learn a new, constructed world, and all of its operating physics and systems of order), and then I could not put it down. I panicked as I neared the end, not wanting to finish the book, and quickly ordered the Obelisk Gate, the second novel in the trilogy, and I can tell you now that I’ll be spending some goodly portion of my weekend in Jemisin’s other world.

What I’m watching:

The NBA Finals and perhaps the best basketball player of this generation. I’ve come to deeply respect LeBron James as a person, a force for social good, and now as an extraordinary player at the peak of his powers. His superhuman play during the NBA playoffs now ranks with the all-time greats, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, MJ, Kobe, and the demi-god that was Bill Russell. That his Cavs lost in a 4-game sweep is no surprise. It was a mediocre team being carried on the wide shoulders of James (and matched against one of the greatest teams ever, the Warriors, and the Harry Potter of basketball, Steph Curry) and, in some strange way, his greatness is amplified by the contrast with the rest of his team. It was a great run.

May 24, 2018

What I’m listening to:

I’ve always liked Alicia Keys and admired her social activism, but I am hooked on her last album Here. This feels like an album finally commensurate with her anger, activism, hope, and grit. More R&B and Hip Hop than is typical for her, I think this album moves into an echelon inhabited by a Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On or Beyonce’s Formation. Social activism and outrage rarely make great novels, but they often fuel great popular music. Here is a terrific example.

What I’m reading:

Colson Whitehead’s Underground Railroad may be close to a flawless novel. Winner of the 2017 Pulitzer, it chronicles the lives of two runaway slaves, Cora and Caeser, as they try to escape the hell of plantation life in Georgia. It is an often searing novel and Cora is one of the great heroes of American literature. I would make this mandatory reading in every high school in America, especially in light of the absurd revisionist narratives of “happy and well cared for” slaves. This is a genuinely great novel, one of the best I’ve read, the magical realism and conflating of time periods lifts it to another realm of social commentary, relevance, and a blazing indictment of America’s Original Sin, for which we remain unabsolved.

What I’m watching:

I thought I knew about The Pentagon Papers, but The Post, a real-life political thriller from Steven Spielberg taught me a lot, features some of our greatest actors, and is so timely given the assault on our democratic institutions and with a presidency out of control. It is a reminder that a free and fearless press is a powerful part of our democracy, always among the first targets of despots everywhere. The story revolves around the legendary Post owner and D.C. doyenne, Katharine Graham. I had the opportunity to see her son, Don Graham, right after he saw the film, and he raved about Meryl Streep’s portrayal of his mother. Liked it a lot more than I expected.

April 27, 2018

What I’m listening to:

I mentioned John Prine in a recent post and then on the heels of that mention, he has released a new album, The Tree of Forgiveness, his first new album in ten years. Prine is beloved by other singer songwriters and often praised by the inscrutable God that is Bob Dylan. Indeed, Prine was frequently said to be the “next Bob Dylan” in the early part of his career, though he instead carved out his own respectable career and voice, if never with the dizzying success of Dylan. The new album reflects a man in his 70s, a cancer survivor, who reflects on life and its end, but with the good humor and empathy that are hallmarks of Prine’s music. “When I Get To Heaven” is a rollicking, fun vision of what comes next and a pure delight. A charming, warm, and often terrific album.

What I’m reading:

I recently read Min Jin Lee’s Pachinko, on many people’s Top Ten lists for last year and for good reason. It is sprawling, multi-generational, and based in the world of Japanese occupied Korea and then in the Korean immigrant’s world of Oaska, so our key characters become “tweeners,” accepted in neither world. It’s often unspeakably sad, and yet there is resiliency and love. There is also intimacy, despite the time and geographic span of the novel. It’s breathtakingly good and like all good novels, transporting.

What I’m watching:

I adore Guillermo del Toro’s 2006 film, Pan’s Labyrinth, and while I’m not sure his Shape of Water is better, it is a worthy follow up to the earlier masterpiece (and more of a commercial success). Lots of critics dislike the film, but I’m okay with a simple retelling of a Beauty and the Beast love story, as predictable as it might be. The acting is terrific, it is visually stunning, and there are layers of pain as well as social and political commentary (the setting is the US during the Cold War) and, no real spoiler here, the real monsters are humans, the military officer who sees over the captured aquatic creature. It is hauntingly beautiful and its depiction of hatred to those who are different or “other” is painfully resonant with the time in which we live. Put this on your “must see” list.

March 18, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Sitting on a plane for hours (and many more to go; geez, Australia is far away) is a great opportunity to listen to new music and to revisit old favorites. This time, it is Lucy Dacus and her album Historians, the new sophomore release from a 22-year old indie artist that writes with relatable, real-life lyrics. Just on a second listen and while she insists this isn’t a break up record (as we know, 50% of all great songs are break up songs), it is full of loss and pain. Worth the listen so far. For the way back machine, it’s John Prine and In Spite of Ourselves (that title track is one of the great love songs of all time), a collection of duets with some of his “favorite girl singers” as he once described them. I have a crush on Iris Dement (for a really righteously angry song try her Wasteland of the Free), but there is also EmmyLou Harris, the incomparable Dolores Keane, and Lucinda Williams. Very different albums, both wonderful.

What I’m reading:

Jane Mayer’s New Yorker piece on Christopher Steele presents little that is new, but she pulls it together in a terrific and coherent whole that is illuminating and troubling at the same time. Not only for what is happening, but for the complicity of the far right in trying to discredit that which should be setting off alarm bells everywhere. Bob Mueller may be the most important defender of the democracy at this time. A must read.

What I’m watching:

Homeland is killing it this season and is prescient, hauntingly so. Russian election interference, a Bannon-style hate radio demagogue, alienated and gun toting militia types, and a president out of control. It’s fabulous, even if it feels awfully close to the evening news.

March 8, 2018

What I’m listening to:

We have a family challenge to compile our Top 100 songs. It is painful. Only 100? No more than three songs by one artist? Wait, why is M.I.A.’s “Paper Planes” on my list? Should it just be The Clash from whom she samples? Can I admit to guilty pleasure songs? Hey, it’s my list and I can put anything I want on it. So I’m listening to the list while I work and the song playing right now is Tom Petty’s “The Wild One, Forever,” a B-side single that was never a hit and that remains my favorite Petty song. Also, “Evangeline” by Los Lobos. It evokes a night many years ago, with friends at Pearl Street in Northampton, MA, when everyone danced well past 1AM in a hot, sweaty, packed club and the band was a revelation. Maybe the best music night of our lives and a reminder that one’s 100 Favorite Songs list is as much about what you were doing and where you were in your life when those songs were playing as it is about the music. It’s not a list. It’s a soundtrack for this journey.

What I’m reading:

Patricia Lockwood’s Priestdaddy was in the NY Times top ten books of 2017 list and it is easy to see why. Lockwood brings remarkable and often surprising imagery, metaphor, and language to her prose memoir and it actually threw me off at first. It then all became clear when someone told me she is a poet. The book is laugh aloud funny, which masks (or makes safer anyway) some pretty dark territory. Anyone who grew up Catholic, whether lapsed or not, will resonate with her story. She can’t resist a bawdy anecdote and her family provides some of the most memorable characters possible, especially her father, her sister, and her mother, who I came to adore. Best thing I’ve read in ages.

What I’m watching:

The Florida Project, a profoundly good movie on so many levels. Start with the central character, six-year old (at the time of the filming) Brooklynn Prince, who owns – I mean really owns – the screen. This is pure acting genius and at that age? Astounding. Almost as astounding is Bria Vinaite, who plays her mother. She was discovered on Instagram and had never acted before this role, which she did with just three weeks of acting lessons. She is utterly convincing and the tension between the child’s absolute wonder and joy in the world with her mother’s struggle to provide, to be a mother, is heartwarming and heartbreaking all at once. Willem Dafoe rightly received an Oscar nomination for his supporting role. This is a terrific movie.

February 12, 2018

What I’m listening to:

So, I have a lot of friends of age (I know you’re thinking 40s, but I just turned 60) who are frozen in whatever era of music they enjoyed in college or maybe even in their thirties. There are lots of times when I reach back into the catalog, since music is one of those really powerful and transporting senses that can take you through time (smell is the other one, though often underappreciated for that power). Hell, I just bought a turntable and now spending time in vintage vinyl shops. But I’m trying to take a lesson from Pat, who revels in new music and can as easily talk about North African rap music and the latest National album as Meet the Beatles, her first ever album. So, I’ve been listening to Kendrick Lamar’s Grammy winning Damn. While it may not be the first thing I’ll reach for on a winter night in Maine, by the fire, I was taken with it. It’s layered, political, and weirdly sensitive and misogynist at the same time, and it feels fresh and authentic and smart at the same time, with music that often pulled me from what I was doing. In short, everything music should do. I’m not a bit cooler for listening to Damn, but when I followed it with Steely Dan, I felt like I was listening to Lawrence Welk. A good sign, I think.

What I’m reading:

I am reading Walter Isaacson’s new biography of Leonardo da Vinci. I’m not usually a reader of biographies, but I’ve always been taken with Leonardo. Isaacson does not disappoint (does he ever?), and his subject is at once more human and accessible and more awe-inspiring in Isaacson’s capable hands. Gay, left-handed, vegetarian, incapable of finishing things, a wonderful conversationalist, kind, and perhaps the most relentlessly curious human being who has ever lived. Like his biographies of Steve Jobs and Albert Einstein, Isaacson’s project here is to show that genius lives at the intersection of science and art, of rationality and creativity. Highly recommend it.

What I’m watching:

We watched the This Is Us post-Super Bowl episode, the one where Jack finally buys the farm. I really want to hate this show. It is melodramatic and manipulative, with characters that mostly never change or grow, and it hooks me every damn time we watch it. The episode last Sunday was a tear jerker, a double whammy intended to render into a blubbering, tissue-crumbling pathetic mess anyone who has lost a parent or who is a parent. Sterling K. Brown, Ron Cephas Jones, the surprising Mandy Moore, and Milo Ventimiglia are hard not to love and last season’s episode that had only Brown and Cephas going to Memphis was the show at its best (they are by far the two best actors). Last week was the show at its best worst. In other words, I want to hate it, but I love it. If you haven’t seen it, don’t binge watch it. You’ll need therapy and insulin.

January 15, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Drive-By Truckers. Chris Stapleton has me on an unusual (for me) country theme and I discovered these guys to my great delight. They’ve been around, with some 11 albums, but the newest one is fascinating. It’s a deep dive into Southern alienation and the white working-class world often associated with our current president. I admire the willingness to lay bare, in kick ass rock songs, the complexities and pain at work among people we too quickly place into overly simple categories. These guys are brave, bold, and thoughtful as hell, while producing songs I didn’t expect to like, but that I keep playing. And they are coming to NH.

What I’m reading:

A textual analog to Drive-By Truckers by Chris Stapleton in many ways is Tony Horowitz’s 1998 Pulitzer Prize winning Confederates in the Attic. Ostensibly about the Civil War and the South’s ongoing attachment to it, it is prescient and speaks eloquently to the times in which we live (where every southern state but Virginia voted for President Trump). Often hilarious, it too surfaces complexities and nuance that escape a more recent, and widely acclaimed, book like Hillbilly Elegy. As a Civil War fan, it was also astonishing in many instances, especially when it blows apart long-held “truths” about the war, such as the degree to which Sherman burned down the south (he did not). Like D-B Truckers, Horowitz loves the South and the people he encounters, even as he grapples with its myths of victimhood and exceptionalism (and racism, which may be no more than the racism in the north, but of a different kind). Everyone should read this book and I’m embarrassed I’m so late to it.

What I’m watching:

David Letterman has a new Netflix show called “My Next Guest Needs No Introduction” and we watched the first episode, in which Letterman interviewed Barack Obama. It was extraordinary (if you don’t have Netflix, get it just to watch this show); not only because we were reminded of Obama’s smarts, grace, and humanity (and humor), but because we saw a side of Letterman we didn’t know existed. His personal reflections on Selma were raw and powerful, almost painful. He will do five more episodes with “extraordinary individuals” and if they are anything like the first, this might be the very best work of his career and one of the best things on television.

December 22, 2017

What I’m reading:

Just finished Sunjeev Sahota’s Year of the Runaways, a painful inside look at the plight of illegal Indian immigrant workers in Britain. It was shortlisted for 2015 Man Booker Prize and its transporting, often to a dark and painful universe, and it is impossible not to think about the American version of this story and the terrible way we treat the undocumented in our own country, especially now.

What I’m watching:

Season II of The Crown is even better than Season I. Elizabeth’s character is becoming more three-dimensional, the modern world is catching up with tradition-bound Britain, and Cold War politics offer more context and tension than we saw in Season I. Claire Foy, in her last season, is just terrific – one arched eye brow can send a message.

What I’m listening to:

A lot of Christmas music, but needing a break from the schmaltz, I’ve discovered Over the Rhine and their Christmas album, Snow Angels. God, these guys are good.

November 14, 2017

What I’m watching:

Guiltily, I watch the Patriots play every weekend, often building my schedule and plans around seeing the game. Why the guilt? I don’t know how morally defensible is football anymore, as we now know the severe damage it does to the players. We can’t pretend it’s all okay anymore. Is this our version of late decadent Rome, watching mostly young Black men take a terrible toll on each other for our mere entertainment?

What I’m reading:

Recently finished J.G. Ballard’s 2000 novel Super-Cannes, a powerful depiction of a corporate-tech ex-pat community taken over by a kind of psychopathology, in which all social norms and responsibilities are surrendered to residents of the new world community. Kept thinking about Silicon Valley when reading it. Pretty dark, dystopian view of the modern world and centered around a mass killing, troublingly prescient.

What I’m listening to:

Was never really a Lorde fan, only knowing her catchy (and smarter than you might first guess) pop hit “Royals” from her debut album. But her new album, Melodrama, is terrific and it doesn’t feel quite right to call this “pop.” There is something way more substantial going on with Lorde and I can see why many critics put this album at the top of their Best in 2017 list. Count me in as a huge fan.

November 3, 2017

What I’m reading: Just finished Celeste Ng’s Little Fires Everywhere, her breathtakingly good second novel. How is someone so young so wise? Her writing is near perfection and I read the book in two days, setting my alarm for 4:30AM so I could finish it before work.

What I’m watching: We just binge watched season two of Stranger Things and it was worth it just to watch Millie Bobbie Brown, the transcendent young actor who plays Eleven. The series is a delightful mash up of every great eighties horror genre you can imagine and while pretty dark, an absolute joy to watch.

What I’m listening to: I’m not a lover of country music (to say the least), but I love Chris Stapleton. His “The Last Thing I Needed, First Thing This Morning” is heartbreakingly good and reminds me of the old school country that played in my house as a kid. He has a new album and I can’t wait, but his From A Room: Volume 1 is on repeat for now.

September 26, 2017

What I’m reading:

Just finished George Saunder’s Lincoln in the Bardo. It took me a while to accept its cadence and sheer weirdness, but loved it in the end. A painful meditation on loss and grief, and a genuinely beautiful exploration of the intersection of life and death, the difficulty of letting go of what was, good and bad, and what never came to be.

What I’m watching:

HBO’s The Deuce. Times Square and the beginning of the porn industry in the 1970s, the setting made me wonder if this was really something I’d want to see. But David Simon is the writer and I’d read a menu if he wrote it. It does not disappoint so far and there is nothing prurient about it.

What I’m listening to:

The National’s new album Sleep Well Beast. I love this band. The opening piano notes of the first song, “Nobody Else Will Be There,” seize me & I’m reminded that no one else in music today matches their arrangement & musicianship. I’m adding “Born to Beg,” “Slow Show,” “I Need My Girl,” and “Runaway” to my list of favorite love songs.

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foursprouthappiness-blog · 7 years

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This Is How To Find Joy: 4 Simple Secrets To The Good Life

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/this-is-how-to-find-joy-4-simple-secrets-to-the-good-life/

This Is How To Find Joy: 4 Simple Secrets To The Good Life

***

Before we commence with the festivities, I wanted to thank everyone for helping my first book become a Wall Street Journal bestseller. To check it out, click here.

***

“Older and wiser.” You’re on board with that, right? Sure. But what if I said “older and more joyful?”

That probably doesn’t click in the same way. Physically, getting old sucks.

From Happiness Is a Choice You Make: Lessons from a Year Among the Oldest Old:

At ages eighty-five and up, one in three people say they have trouble hearing; 31 percent have trouble caring for themselves; half have trouble walking and living independently; and 28 percent say they have cognitive difficulty… Heart disease, cancer, diabetes, arthritis, Alzheimer’s and other dementias-all increase dramatically by age seventy and accelerate with each additional year.

Youth is all smiles and hope; old age is aches and pains while you count down the days to the end, right?

Wrong.

They did a study at Stanford University tracking the emotions of a group of people ages 18-94. Guess what? Older people are happier.

From Happiness Is a Choice You Make: Lessons from a Year Among the Oldest Old:

Older people consistently reported just as many positive emotions as the younger participants, but had fewer negative ones. They also had more mixed emotions, meaning that they didn’t let frustration or anxiety keep them from saying they were happy. Consciously or unconsciously, they were making the choice to be happy even when there were reasons to feel otherwise… Using functional magnetic resonance imaging, or fMRI, the researchers found that the emotional processing center of older people’s brains, the amygdala, fired more actively when they looked at positive images than negative ones; younger brains reacted to both equally. In this, older brains resemble the brains of people who meditate.

Elderly people are happier than younger people?!? Huh? But their bodies are falling apart! Their best years are behind them! How is this possible?

A lot of what we think we know about aging is wrong. We have a lot to learn about getting older. And, more importantly, a lot to learn from older people. Remember: they’ve been your age — you haven’t been theirs.

Author John Leland looked at the research on aging and spent a year shadowing a group of older folks to see what he could learn. His lessons are in the wonderful new book: Happiness Is a Choice You Make: Lessons from a Year Among the Oldest Old.

As he explains: “Old age is the last thing we’ll ever do, and it might teach us about how to live now.”

So here are four things we can learn about happiness from our elders…

Those Things That Make You Happy? Do Them.

We think of older people as set in their ways. Trying to get them to do anything new seems impossible. But what if instead of this being a weakness, it’s a strength?

Old people know what makes them happy. And they do it. We have plenty of things we enjoy… and we never seem to get around to them. People we love… that we don’t make time to see.

Older folks definitely miss out on some new stuff. And that might seem boring. But “new” often disappoints. And if your goal is to be happy, then why not do what you know will work?

From Happiness Is a Choice You Make: Lessons from a Year Among the Oldest Old:

One compelling explanation for the elders’ greater contentment comes from the psychologist Laura L. Carstensen, founding director of the Stanford Center on Longevity. Her hypothesis, which she gave the wonky name “socioemotional selectivity,” is that older people, knowing they face a limited time in front of them, focus their energies on things that give them pleasure in the moment, whereas young people, with long horizons, seek out new experiences or knowledge that may or may not pay off down the line.

And instead of simply doing those things that make us happy, we whippersnappers spend a lot of time on defense rather than offense. We play “discomfort whack-a-mole”, thinking that if we can just eliminate all the bad stuff, life will be nothing but rainbows and sunshine…

Old people know that’s impossible. There will always be pain in life. (Sorry.) Karl Pillemer of Cornell University makes the distinction between “happy in spite of” and “happy if only.”

We think we’d be “happy if only” every bad thing went away. And that’s ridiculous. Old people know there will always be challenges in life — but they choose to be “happy in spite of.” And that works.

From Happiness Is a Choice You Make: Lessons from a Year Among the Oldest Old:

Gerontologists consider the tendency to sustain mixed feelings, rather than try to resolve them, as a component of elder wisdom, a recognition that life doesn’t have to be all good to be good, and also that it never will be. Troubles are always with us, and getting rid of this one or that won’t make us happy; it’ll just move another hardship to the head of the class. Karl Pillemer of Cornell makes the distinction between “happy in spite of” and “happy if only,” the former being a benefit of old age, the latter a vexation of youth. “Happy in spite of” entails a choice to be happy; it acknowledges problems but doesn’t put them in the way of contentment. “Happy if only” pins happiness on outside circumstances: if only I had more money, less pain, a nicer spouse or house, I’d be happy as a clam… Fulfillment need not be what’s just around the corner. In the end, wisdom lies in finding it in the imperfect now.

Spend a little less time with all that is new and shiny and a little more time with what has always made you happy. Accept that in the game of “discomfort whack-a-mole”, there will always be more moles. But you can choose to be “happy in spite of” that.

(To learn more about the science of a successful life, check out my bestselling book here.)

So you’re making happier choices by going for the sure thing. But what’s something that can make you happier with what you already have?

Express Gratitude

When noted neurologist and author Oliver Sacks learned he had terminal cancer at age 82 his despair drove him to go on a three week cocaine-fueled bender that would make rockstars blush.

Just kidding.

Actually, he didn’t spend much time in despair. He was filled with gratitude for the incredible life he had been lucky enough to live.

From Happiness Is a Choice You Make: Lessons from a Year Among the Oldest Old:

“I cannot pretend I am without fear, but my predominant feeling is one of gratitude. I have loved and been loved; I have been given much and I have given something in return; I have read and traveled and thought and written… Above all, I have been a sentient being, a thinking animal, on this beautiful planet, and that in itself has been an enormous privilege and adventure.”

And research shows gratitude really does make us happy. When we step back from taking things for granted and the endless parade of wants and needs we crave, appreciating what we have fills us with joy.

From Happiness Is a Choice You Make: Lessons from a Year Among the Oldest Old:

In each study, the subjects who wrote down something they were grateful for reported greater levels of well-being and more optimism about the coming weeks or days. The more often they wrote, the stronger the effect. Depending on how the study was constructed, they reported other positive effects: they exercised more, slept better, woke up more refreshed, or were more likely to have helped someone else with a problem.

The amazing thing about gratitude is that you don’t have to get or achieve anything to feel it. All it takes is a change in perspective. You can feel it right now if you want.

So please don’t wait until you get bad news from your oncologist in order to start.

(To learn the 4 rituals that will increase how much gratitude you feel, click here.)

Old age is sounding pretty good. But isn’t it boring? Not necessarily…

Find Purpose

As the old saying goes: “You’re not bored. You’re boring.” If you don’t have anything you’re passionate about, something that drives you forward in life right now — well, you’re probably not going to suddenly discover it when you’re retired…

But if you don’t have anything that excites you before you reach 80, don’t worry — you’re probably never going to see 80. People who have purpose in life are not only happier and healthier — they live longer.

From Happiness Is a Choice You Make: Lessons from a Year Among the Oldest Old:

Researchers have long observed that older people who feel a sense of purpose in their lives tend to live longer, fuller, and healthier lives than people who don’t…

“Find your purpose.” Yeah, doesn’t get more cliché than that. Corny. I get it. Well, let me throw in some added incentive: how about not losing your marbles?

Patricia Boyle, a neuropsychologist at the Rush University Medical Center in Chicago, did an eight-year study looking at memory and purpose in life. She found that purpose did not protect people from Alzheimer’s…

But amazingly, it did protect them from the effects of Alzheimer’s. Huh?

After death, the brains of those with Alzheimer’s showed the same physical deterioration whether they had purpose in life or not. But when they went back and looked at the memory tests subjects had been given they found that the scores of the people with purpose more strongly resembled subjects who did not suffer from Alzheimer’s at all.

And the stronger their purpose in life, the more protective it was.

From Happiness Is a Choice You Make: Lessons from a Year Among the Oldest Old:

“It has a lifelong benefit but something unique happens in old age, where being goal-directed helps you stave off bad health outcomes,” she said. The good news, she said, is that people at any age can learn to form a purpose in life, either on their own or through simple interventions. Yours might be weak or strong, but you will benefit either way. “Part of it is getting people to sit down and say ‘What do I want my life to look like at the end of the day?’ she said. “‘What do I want my mark to be?’”

What drives you? What inspires you? Feed that now and reap the benefits later. Don’t have hobbies — have passions.

(To learn the seven-step morning ritual that will make you happy all day, click here.)

In his year following older folks, Leland never heard any of them talk about their youthful workplace accomplishments. Not once. So what is important to them that you should be focusing on now?

Double Down On Good Relationships

They didn’t talk about work. They didn’t discuss the obstacles they’d overcome. And those material things they’d chased didn’t matter much anymore. What the older people did find joy and pride in was their families and their relationships.

They’d gotten a lot more Zen. Sociologist Lars Tornstam calls the phenomenon “Gerotranscendence.”

From Happiness Is a Choice You Make: Lessons from a Year Among the Oldest Old:

In his surveys of people ages 74 to 104, asking how their values had changed since they were 50, nearly three-quarters agreed with the statement “Today I am less interested in superficial social contacts,” and two-thirds said, “Today I have more delight in my inner world”; 81 percent agreed with the statement “Today material things mean less.”

So what’s that mean for you? Make those friends now. Don’t just invest in your retirement fund; invest in your relationship fund. It’ll make you happier now and it’ll make you happier later.

It will also extend your life. There are a number of reasons why women live longer than men. But a big one is because they’re usually much better about maintaining a good social circle.

From Happiness Is a Choice You Make: Lessons from a Year Among the Oldest Old:

In a study that followed 1,500 Californians for eight decades, Friedman and Martin found that “widowed women tended to thrive-they lived longer than the still-married women.” They built social networks, herded their kids, did all the things they put off when their husbands were ill. Widowed men, on the other hand, tended to go quickly.

And while you want more offense and less defense when it comes to doing the things you enjoy, when it comes to relationships, playing some “D” is valuable. One of the reasons old folks are happier is because they prune their social circles and get rid of the bad apples.

From Happiness Is a Choice You Make: Lessons from a Year Among the Oldest Old:

When he started interviewing them about their lives, they described changes in their values as they got older. One was that they became more selective about how they spent their time and whom they spent it with… As Laura Carstensen writes, “Bad relationships may be more harmful than good relationships are beneficial.”

(To learn how to make friends as an adult, click here.)

Okay, we can’t beat the old fogeys — so we’d better join them. Let’s round up what we’ve learned and find out the easiest way to get started on being young like you’re old…

Sum Up

Here’s how to find joy:

Those things that make you happy? Do them: Take a break from “new.” Listen to the music that has always made you happy. Spend time with the people who have always made you happy.

Express gratitude: I just gave you valuable advice. The least you can do is say “thank you.” Jeez.

Find purpose: Don’t have hobbies. Have passions.

Double down on good relationships: Build your friendship 401K. Invest in good relationships now. The compound interest that comes from pals is incalculable.

Hopefully you’re feeling more positive about getting older. Actually, you’d better be. Turns out that how you feel about living to a ripe old age has a big effect on whether or not you actually do.

From Happiness Is a Choice You Make: Lessons from a Year Among the Oldest Old:

A long-term survey of people in Ohio found that those who had positive perceptions of aging, measured by whether they agreed or disagreed with statements like “As you get older, you are less useful,” went on to live an average of 7.5 years longer, a bigger boost than that associated with exercising or not smoking.

Do what makes you happy. Show gratitude. Find purpose. And invest in your relationships. Realize how surmountable most of the challenges you struggle with are and, like John Leland, realize just how amazing — really amazing — life is.

From Happiness Is a Choice You Make: Lessons from a Year Among the Oldest Old:

This may be the one-sentence essence of what I learned in my year among the oldest old: to shut down the noise and fears and desires that buffet our days and think about how amazing, really amazing, life is… I couldn’t live wholly in the moment, because I had a future to think about, but if I had learned anything, it was to live as if this future were finite, and the present all the more wondrous as a result… Gratitude, purpose, camaraderie, love, family, usefulness, art, pleasure – all these are within my grasp, requiring of me only that I receive them. Those days I am kinder, more patient, more productive, less anxious, possibly closer to being the person I always should have been.

Longevity isn’t all that valuable if you’re not going to be happy. Who wants to extend misery? So ask yourself:

Do I want to live long or die long?

(Hint: Living long is much better.)

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The post This Is How To Find Joy: 4 Simple Secrets To The Good Life appeared first on Barking Up The Wrong Tree.

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