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yoonpobs · 4 years ago

Text

difficult | myg

pairing: min yoongi x oc

genre: fluff, mini angst, super cute, mutual pining

words: 3, 812

summary: you're difficult and yoongi just wants you

“I can’t believe it,” Jimin whistles. Taehyung mirrors his sentiment but with a look of disbelief.

“Me neither. But here we are.” Taehyung states matter-of-factly.

You were silent, not because you had nothing to say—but because you couldn’t believe it either. How did you allow yourself to fall into this trap? A trap you’ve spent your entire life training to avoid. And you would consider yourself someone that was dedicated to their craft and you truly were. But you were still susceptible to guilty pleasures and you just found your match.

“Why is no one stopping me? Why isn’t anyone telling me to get a grip of myself?” You cry.

Jimin looks at you sympathetically even if he knows that you hated being pitied. Taehyung at least avoids your gaze but the tell-tale signs of a frown appear on his face when you see the furrow of his brows.

“You know … you’re allowed to feel this way, right?” Jimin says carefully and you were more annoyed with the fact that he was walking on eggshells with you when you’ve long passed that stage of prudent navigation around each other. And you knew exactly why he sounded the way he did.

“I’m not. I’m supposed to be an impenetrable fortress that cannot be shaken by anything let alone anyone. I am an unyielding, resolute woman that refuses to be tied down by society’s narratives.” You say all at once.

Jimin and Taehyung blink at you. They expected this—but it still surprised them that you vocalised their thoughts.

Jimin clears his throat.

“Let me rephrase that,” He says sternly, “You’re allowed to feel, period.”

You shake your head because you’ve fallen too far—too hard. And you needed to get a grip of yourself because you didn’t work hard perfecting the flawless expression of bitchiness and temptation to be taken seriously amongst a Board of Directors filled with men. People like you couldn’t afford to feel.

Especially when the world never feels for you. For women.

“Do you hear yourself Jimin?” You exasperate as you throw your hands in the air in frustration.

“____—” Taehyung attempts to reason with you, but as always, you never let him get a word in. He knows you don’t mean any malice because you’ve built your walls so high that you think everyone is out to get you—but he just cares about you. He wishes you’d let him.

“No. You don’t understand guys. People like me? We—I—can’t afford to slack off. Not now and not anytime soon. I hear you guys and I wish I could understand where you’re coming from but frankly, I won’t ever be able to. You have the liberty of picking your battles because this world is yours. I had to fight my battles on my own to claim this world as my own and I’m nowhere near deserving of that role yet. I can’t feel.”

Their eyes soften at you and you avoid their gazes. You didn’t want their pity, and you didn’t want to sit in a tight office with their stares so heavy on your own.

“You deserve to be happy,” Taehyung says sadly.

You don’t respond, but you hear the chairs in front of your desk move against the hardwood floor. Then, you hear the opening and closing of your doors and you��re finally alone. Like how you do best.

You don’t allow another thought as insignificant as the one that threatens to overtake you to pass through your mind as you quickly tend to your pending projects.

The name of a certain man lingers very vaguely, though.

It annoys yet terrifies you how much you needed to consciously play your cards just right when you step into another board meeting. You thrived when you spoke at the podium, and no man—even the most bigoted—could deny that you were a born leader. But that didn’t mean that they liked that fact. In fact, most of them despised the idea that a woman as young as you was even allowed in the same room as they were. You wished you could yell at them, cry and shout until they understood that you were deserving.

You couldn’t, for very obvious reasons. But until you could—you needed to be smart.

“Mr Lee, with all due respect—liquifying the compartment company will not bring us the projected profit that you’ve pitched in the previous meeting.”

You’re level-headed and cool when you attempt to reason with the older and very stubborn man. He was old, and stubborn, which was never good news for you.

Mr Lee, the Chairman’s younger brother, simply scoffs at you, and you try your best not to let your eye twitch.

“What? Do you have a bachelor’s degree in business?” He sneers.

You blink.

“I have a double Masters in Business Administration and Finance.”

Mr Lee stiffens, and you briefly see Seokjin, the fellow nephew of Mr Kim, holding back his snorts at your declaration.

“I am qualified to be making this statement, and if you don’t believe in just words—which you really shouldn’t—here are the documents and projections from my end.” You distribute the analysis you took upon yourself to complete over the weekend and worked overtime to finish it as you handed it around the table.

Mr Kim, the Chairman, who was a far better man than everyone else in the Board of Directors, offers you an impressed smile as he flips through your booklet while you stand straight with your shoulders rolled back. A stance you often took to show that you knew your shit.

“This is very … meticulous. Great work as always, ___.” Mr Kim compliments you.

You don’t let it show on your face but you’re pleased with the way Mr Lee grumbles under his breath like a petulant child.

“Very well. We’ll keep the compartment company as it is,” Mr Kim declares and everyone else in the room shuffles to collect their belongings as the meeting comes to an end, “Meeting adjourned.”

“You’re absolutely badass,” Jin whistles at you as you walk side-by-side, your folders snug against your chest.

You hide your smile but acknowledge it regardless.

“And you were … there. As usual.”

He snorts and you know he gets where you’re coming from. Jin was simply present at the meeting but he wasn’t actually present. His heart had no place in the business world but instead in a world filled with fine dining and diverse cuisines as he worked up a storm in the kitchen. But as every father—who is the Chairman of a country’s largest exporter—he had pushed that dream onto Jin from a young age.

But Jin was Jin, and you knew Mr Kim simply kept him here for the sake of it; fully aware of his son’s aspirations and determination of becoming a chef.

“You should just take my position. You’re so good at business talk—I didn’t understand half the shit you were saying the entire time.” He says.

You shrug.

“I mean, that’s the goal. But let’s just see for now,” You hum as you reach your office, and you still when you see the person waiting for you inside.

Jin takes a peek over your shoulder and spots the same person who has you looking so tense. He whistles at you as he stuffs his right hand in his pocket while offering you a consoling pat on your shoulder with his left before he stalks off.

“Good luck!” He calls out, and you internally groan at the oncoming interaction.

You brace yourself and put on a brave face as you step into your office, doors clicking, signalling your guest to turn around at the insinuation of your presence.

“Mr Min, what can I help you with?” You don’t look at him when you place your belongings on your table and you nearly miss his scoff with the way you attempt to busy yourself with any mindless activity that you can find on your desk.

“Mr Min? Not Yoongi anymore?”

You ignore his bitter tone and look at him with a reserved stare, raising an eyebrow as if to question his statement.

“Are we not co-workers?” You reply coolly and he scoffs much louder for you to hear.

“Co-workers … yeah,” He shrugs, leaning forward, “Do you usually kiss your co-workers?”

You are still at the sudden declaration and nearly drop the pen that was in your grip. He’s suddenly inches closer to you despite the relative distance of your desk between the both of you. You try to ignore the heat of his body, but it’s entirely too suffocating for you to pretend like he isn’t there.

“Don’t give me that nonsense,” You wave him off and you steady your voice because you weren’t ready for him to see you break. You allowed yourself too much space to be vulnerable and you needed to stop.

He sits back into the chair and folds his arms across his chest with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, this is not what we’re going to do.” He says, suddenly much firmer than he was a moment ago.

“I’m sorry?” You ask, clearly confused.

“None of this detached, emotionless attitude with me. I see through this facade and it’s not cute. You’re going to speak to me like an adult and address the very obvious feelings you have for me, and likewise. You’re not allowed to deflect like you always do because I expect you to be honest with me because you’re clearly not being honest to yourself.”

You blink up at him and your heart starts beating more rapidly within your chest as it betrays your stoic appearance.

Maybe that was why you fell for Yoongi in the first place. He didn’t tolerate you. Specifically, the shit that you pull on him. You were well aware you were a stubborn, hard-headed bitch that could be emotionally reserved 99% of the time when you interacted with others. And sometimes your bitchiness was uncalled for, but most people were too terrified to say anything about it to your face.

Yoongi?

He had no problems letting you know what he expected from you and how he thought of you from the beginning. It should’ve irked you. Based on your strict line of principles that you upheld—a man projecting his own thoughts of you that he had in his head, directly to you, should’ve been dehumanising, disrespectful even. But you never got that from Yoongi. He was brutally honest. And you appreciate honesty.

But sometimes it made you squirm.

“I … sorry, what? Are you insane? I don’t have feelings for you.” You narrow your eyes at him and hope you sound convincing enough.

But you knew Yoongi well enough to know that he saw through your blatant lie.

“I said: don’t deflect. You’re deflecting.” He scolds.

“You’re being unnecessarily distasteful right now,” You roll your eyes.

“Am I? Or am I just telling you the truth that you’ve been trying to deny for the past week that you’ve been cowardly avoiding me?” He’s calm when he makes the accusation. And it wasn’t even an accusation because it was the plain truth.

You burn, both in anger and in humiliation.

“What do you know about me Yoongi? Aren’t I just the company’s hot-headed bitch?” You snap, remembering the first words you heard from Yoongi.

“You are a hot-headed bitch, and I know you’re scared of admitting that you have feelings for me because you think feeling makes you weak.”

You ignore the fact that he admitted that you were a bitch, but Yoongi wasn’t the type to lie, nor was he the type to kiss ass. And you hated that he was still brutally honest, even when speaking about a topic so … intimate.

“Look, I don’t know where you’re getting this information from but you need to leave.” You stand up to walk towards the door so you could open it for him but he grabs your wrist before you make it there.

He turns you around to look at him. Properly look at him, that is. You’ve been avoiding direct eye contact with him because as good of a front you’ve worked on to put in front of him, you were human. And as a human, you were bound to have a weakness.

“You don’t get to walk away from me—this conversation—because you hate confrontation,” He frowns at you and you turn away to avoid his heavy gaze.

“Yoongi, can we not do this?” You sigh.

He chuckles dryly, using his right hand to nudge your face to look at him. It should’ve been demeaning, but you felt nothing like you were disrespected. You hated to admit it but you liked it. You liked it a lot more than you’d admit to anyone.

“No. We’re doing this. You’re going to address your feelings for me and actually work for what you want—and that’s clearly this,” He gestures between the two of you and you glare up at him.

“I told you! I don’t have any feelings for you.” You snarl at him, teeth bared like an animal but he just laughs at you like you were pathetic. You hated how small you felt in his presence but yet you were still whole.

“You don’t kiss a person you don’t have feelings for—you don’t hold someone you don’t have feelings for like they’re your safe space. You don’t have feelings for me? That’s funny because you did all of those things and you’ve never once complained when I reciprocated.”

You fumble with your words as the tip of your ears burn a bright red, which Yoongi easily catches.

“You don’t turn into a tomato if I was lying to you. You’re not like that, right? You’re self-assured. Ms-I’m-An-Impenetrable-Fortress,” He mocks.

“S-Stop acting as if you know me, Yoongi. You don’t and you never will.” You struggle against his grip on your wrist but he simply tugs you closer until your faces are inches apart.

“I don’t?” He scoffs, “Then tell me, why do I know that you confide Jimin and Taehyung for advice but never take it anyway because you’re too damn stubborn?”

You were about to retort but he’s quicker with his response.

“Then tell me, why do I know that you walk with your head held high into meetings but exit with your tail tucked between your legs because you’re afraid of sounding too dumb, too incompetent?”

You freeze.

“Then tell me, why do I know that you pull away from people not because you’re repulsed by them but because you’re afraid of forming actual bonds in the fear of being abandoned?”

You internally curse when you fear your eyes burning, and the lump in your throat becoming too much to bear.

“Then tell me, ___, why do I know you feel the same way about me but you’re too scared of looking dependent to do anything about it?” He whispers the last part when he pulls you tight against his chest.

You don’t fight him anymore, and you relax into the firm expanse of his chest and it terrifies you that it feels so much like home. A warm space you find comfort in.

You don’t even realise the first tear escapes your eyes until you feel Yoongi’s dress shirt turn slightly damp under the skin of your cheek. You’re mortified when you realise you’re crying and you attempt to pull away but his hands find their way around your waist to hold you tight.

“Don’t,” He whispers, “Don’t pull away from me.”

“Yoongi … I-I can’t,” You stutter, voice shaky.

He wipes a thumb on your cheek to wipe away the continuous stream of tears that you don’t bother hiding from him anymore.

“I worked my ass off to be taken seriously here and—and … if I get a boyfriend they’re going to think that I’m reliant, I’m weak, dependent on a man.” You ramble, but he just listens to your nonsensical statement as he rubs soothing circles on your head.

“I want you to rely on me, to depend on me. Stop thinking that you need to fight your battles alone. I’m here—I’ll be here. I’ve always been here but you need to let me be there for you.” He says softly.

You peer up at him with swollen eyes and he thinks you look beautiful. You always were beautiful. When you were commanding a meeting; when you were focused when you were angry; when you were laughing, and when you were sad. He was in for all of it.

“But ... the Board of Directors—”

He shushes you with a light kiss to the corner of your lip and you feel your stale heart flutter.

“I’m not here to be your saviour. I’m here to be your equal. I want to help you as much as you’ll help me. And believe me when I say you’ve helped me. The Board of Directors? Relationship or no relationship, they’ll be the same bigots that unfortunately dictate the policies in this company. The only person that has the ability to change anything in this situation is you ___.”

You feel your resolve breaking but you should’ve known that you’ve never had any resolve when it came to Yoongi. You were always weak around him. And maybe you needed to start accepting the fact that you were allowed to feel weak, to feel dependent on someone.

“What if you leave me.” You whine.

He snorts before rubbing a thumb between your furrowed brows.

“Then I leave. But we don’t know what’s going to happen if we don’t try,” He says and you realise how close he’s gotten to you to the point you feel his breath on your lips.

“That’s not comforting to hear the slightest,” You complain.

“And nothing about a relationship is easy. But I’m willing to be with you. I’ve always been ready—it’s you that needs to make the decision, ___.”

You finally lock eyes with him and you see nothing but sincerity. Yoongi could be crass, and often mistaken as a dick. But he was just honourable. He wouldn’t lie to anyone or sugarcoat the difficult truth. In fact, he never made you feel inferior to him even when he was straightforward. He never treated you differently because you were terrifying—but he treated you how he would with anyone else. And that was comforting. While everyone else walked on eggshells with you, he was fearless with his declarations.

Even now.

“I like you. I have no qualms in admitting it. And I’ll say it over and over again until you believe me,”

You don’t reply but kiss him. And there are no explosive fireworks, and time still flows—but it feels familiar. It feels like a territory that you’ve known all along, a little rough around the edges with the time spent away, but a place you can allude to comfort.

He responds by licking into the seam of your mouth as you allow his tongue to lick behind your teeth, a small whine caught in the back of your throat as you card your fingers through his hair. The hands-on your waist presses you tighter, flush against his body.

He pulls away first, resting his forehead on your own.

“I need to hear you say it. None of this tip-toeing anymore.”

You offer him a small smile.

“I-I …”

He watches you stutter with a hooded gaze but nothing about his stare makes you feel pressured. It was more comforting than anything, and the way he still held onto you like you mattered—but weren’t fragile—allowed you some semblance of peace in retaining your identity. This arbitrary idea of what you thought you were and how people perceived you. It was difficult to unlearn an idea that felt very personal to you after years of mastering its art.

You’re still unsure of how to react but you’re so sure of how you feel.

“I like you. I-I want to try.” You wail.

He’s alarmed by the sudden change in tone from your end and at the way you tug at the collars of his shirt. Not aggressively, but a little desperate. Not in the way that’d make him scrunch his nose in distaste but in a way that told him that this was you being vulnerable. Being open.

He wipes at your cheeks with dried tears and looks at you so honestly that it scares you. But in a way, you were fearless because you were terrified of everything. Mostly of disappointing others who held you to such a high standard, but it was a valid fear regardless.

“I’m not some fragile woman that you need to fix and I want you to understand that,” You pull yourself together and tell him sternly. He listens because Yoongi has never been presumptuous.

“I’m my own person and I won’t change the way I act to be with you—and if you’re looking for a cute … dainty, soft girlfriend then…” You whisper, “That’s not me. I’m tough. I’m a bitch and I’m stubborn. Our arguments are going to suck because I have a response for literally everything so—!”

He shushes your rambling with a finger to your lips and a raised eyebrow. You pout at him under his finger and he finds you adorable. He decides to not say anything to preserve his head—but soon. He’ll tell you soon.

“Are you done?”

You huff under his finger but he looks at you fondly.

“I’m not one for normality. I don’t care about what you think I’m into because I know that I’m into you. I’m in this, ___. Stop thinking that I deserve some idealistic image of a woman that you have in your head. I want you, and I thought me coming here to speak to you about your feelings was a clear testament to that.”

You try to hide your blush but you fail.

“And stop being so conscious of how you act around me. Be tough. Be independent. But don’t be afraid to be cute and vulnerable too, okay? I like you in all ways that you decide to present yourself in. Just … trust me. Trust this.”

“Okay.” You nod.

He grins at you.

“Does that mean I can hold your hand on the way to work?” He teases.

You avoid his eyes and look to the side, but the slight curve of your lip gives your answer to that question away.

“I guess …” You mutter.

He hugs you closer and squeezes you until your feet leave the ground. He tackles you with kisses all over your face and you can’t help but giggle. You feel happy. You feel secure.

“Cutie.”

You deliver a smack to his chest but he just laughs.

#bts fic #bts imagine #bts fics #bts imagines #bts #bts yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #yoongi #yoongi imagine #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi x reader

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pixs-pinings · 3 years ago

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Tell

in the world where Pix confesses at the Charity moment, here’s a Fun Little Thing that happens after.

It was a beautiful morning. Pix sat up in her bed, rubbing at her eyes to try and get her eyesight to clarity sooner. The sunshine pouring through her window helped her mind sharpen in clarity, and she eventually forced herself to slide out of bed. Her formal clothes from last night were still on the floor, so she scooped them up and made her way to her laundry basket.

As Pix dumped the clothes into the bucket, she couldn't help but think of Cove. Her smile twisted onto her face, glee bubbling into her heart. She skipped over to her closet, absentmindedly searching through it while her mind danced.

Last night, Cove had climbed into her window with a firefly in his hand. Last night, Cove had thought of her and promised to always be there for her. Last night, Pix had let her feelings spill out of her chest, and Cove had accepted them.

Last night, the two of them had officially become a couple.

Pix giggled to herself, holding a hand to her face. She still couldn't quite believe it, but she remembered it and remembered how she had felt.

She picked out a random shirt in her closet— A pink one with flower designs on it— and pulled off her nightgown. She lifted it up, eyes trailing over the grass still attached to the back, and let out a soft sigh. She and Cove had also cuddled under the moonlight, and the grass was proof of that.

Pix tossed her nightgown into her laundry basket, resigning herself to having to dump that into the laundry room soon, and slipped on her shirt. Pix wandered over to her clothing drawers, picking out a similarly flowery set of shorts and pulling them on as well. With her lazy outfit for the day determined, she plucked her phone from its resting place on her nightstand and made her way downstairs.

Mom had already finished her breakfast, and was reading a book on the couch. Ma was looking down at a magazine. Judging by what Pix could see from the cover, Ma was considering another hairstyle change soon. Liz was eating her breakfast— a collection of sliced fruits and veggies— eyes darting up from her meal when she heard Pix ambling down the stairs.

Pix had her phone in her hands, and was staring at Cove's messaging screen. She navigated into the kitchen, eyes focused on her phone as she tried to think of something to type to her now-boyfriend but unsure of what. Pix got next to the sink, then paused. She wasn't in the mood for making herself scrambled eggs.

Sliding her phone into her pocket with a sigh, she turned back and picked up the step stool next to the fridge. Pix opened it and stepped onto it, stretching up for the cereal box in one of the cabinets. With chosen food in hand, Pix reached over to the dish cabinet, pulling out a bowl. The pink-haired girl placed her chosen items onto the counter as she stepped down from the stepstool. She picked up her assistant item and put it back near the fridge.

Liz had almost returned to eating her morning assortment of food when Pix's phone vibrated, which caused the small girl to gasp. Pix pulled her phone out of her pocket, still standing directly in front of the fridge as she tapped her phone on. The turtle keychain was still dangling as Pix smiled at her phone.

A key opportunity for teasing. Liz leaned forward, fork pressing into a sliced mango as she smirked. "Sooo, texting your boyfriend?"

Clue number one. Pix's eyes darted up from her phone, and the smile was replaced with a scowl. Before now, Pix would've had some snarky reply, relating to how she didn't have a boyfriend yet. Today, she simply rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Liz."

Liz didn't find anything wrong with that response, though. It seemed in line with the usual. So she simply shrugged and returned to eating her food.

Pix seemed to remember that she was getting cereal, so she opened the door of the fridge with one hand, keeping her phone in the other. She also pulled out the milk jug with one hand, setting it on the counter beside the cereal box and bowl. The pink-haired girl stopped in her movements again, though, reddening slightly at her phone screen.

>How are you doing?

>Sleep well?

>Wait. Let me correct myself.

>How's my girlfriend doing?

i'm doing good! <

how's my perfect boyfriend doing? <

The typing symbol started and stopped, and Pix giggled to herself.

She glanced up from her phone, remembered again that she was getting cereal, and reddened from her own embarrassment. This was so simple. She poured her cereal into the bowl, poured the milk in after, then put the milk away, making sure no more cool fridge air escaped into the warm house. She slid her phone back into her pocket, picking up a spoon from the silverware drawer and picking up her bowl of cereal as she made her way to the table, across the table.

With that, Pix pulled out her phone again, eyes trained on it as she used her other hand to scoop cereal into her mouth.

Liz had finished the fruit she'd been eating, placing her fork down as she observed Pix. That was kind of weird— Pix had a smile on her face that Liz certainly hadn't seen before this early in the morning. This relaxed smile, soft and even somewhat giddy, was usually reserved for later in a lazy day, where Pix would be looking at a game console.

Liz decided to take another teasing shot. She pressed her fork into one of her veggies. "Oh, are you hanging out with Cove again today?" Liz guessed, solidifying that in her brain as the likely source of Pix's unusual morning attitude. In fact, that made a lot of sense. "You're like, super obvious." Liz's smile grew with her teasing.

Clue number two. Pix didn't immediately react to the potshot at her pining. Instead, Pix merely chewed at her cereal, and the only hint she had heard Liz was the slight red across Pix's freckled cheeks. Or had that been on Pix's face already?

Pix got partway through a message for Cove, swallowing her food. She reached for her spoon, remembering to respond to her sister as she did so. "He's my boyfriend, I sure hope we're hanging out today."

Liz opened her mouth to follow up her teasing with another sentence.

Then she processed what Pix had said. Judging by both of their moms glancing up from the couch, they too had caught what Pix had said.

"He's your what?" Liz repeated, leaning forward. "Like, for real?"

Pix froze in the middle of her bite of cereal. Her green eyes slowly trailed over the forms of her family, and her eyes widened as it sunk in.

Pix swallowed her bite of cereal. Her face grew redder. The silence stretched.

Their moms smiled, looking between each other. Liz leaned forward, food forgotten. "No way. No way."

Pix jumped up from her seat, cereal forgotten as her face burned. "I did not mean to tell you that yet."

Liz rose an eyebrow. Pix's eyes darted down to her screen as she rapidly texted Cove about her slip-up. "Yet?"

Pix's eyebrows pressed down on her face. "Yet." She glared at Liz, then to her chuckling parents. "We were planning on telling you together. With Mr. Holden."

Mom burst out laughing. "Oh, wow! All official and everything!"

Ma closed her magazine. "We're so proud of you, Pix."

Liz leaned in more, teasing game back on. "Who confessed?"

Pix immediately turned around and headed for the stairs, phone still in one hand. "I am NOT telling you."

"Come on, you have to tell us! We're your family!"

#strawberry seafoam (covepix)#my writing

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kinetic-elaboration · 4 years ago

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March 19: 2x11 Friday’s Child

Finally watched this week’s TOS. This was a hard day again and I’m tired and basically as soon as the ep ended my mood deflated again but I think I can write up a few notes and then crawl right back into bed again.

Another episode about negotiating for a mining treaty, huh? (I’m keeping track of all of these, roughly, for my own Nefarious Purposes).

The aliens are seven feet tall and they wear silly outfits.

Wow, what a dumbass red shirt. You’d think Starfleet would train people NOT to just randomly draw their weapons in diplomatic situations.

I honestly forgot there were Klingons in this.

DC Fontana wrote this!! I forgot that too.

Lol Kirk just drops the deceased red shirt. And then keeps holding his hands out like ‘what am I to do now?’

“They want to negotiate for our rocks. Our stupid, useless rocks. Everyone wants our rocks! So weird.”

I’m actually kind of surprised DC Fontana wrote a Klingon ep but like... I guess it’s not that surprising given this guy doesn’t even have a name and is also really dumb lol. At least he’s not in brownface.

When Kirk and Spock disarmed I didn’t realize they were throwing down their communicators and I was a little confused as to why they had to carry so many phasers each.

Kirk’s pretty upset about the crewman’s death, which I get, he always goes feral when one of his people dies and I appreciate that about him... but that guy really did fuck up lol.

I like seeing Scotty in command.

Oooh mood lighting in the tent. And Spock is meditating I think.

Emotion is “inefficient and illogical.” No wonder Kirk thinks they can never be in love!!

And yet jealous is also inefficient and illogical and I detect some of it in Spock when the blonde Cappellan comes in.

“They consider combat more pleasurable than love.” Hmm sounds like someone else I know.

... Honestly I wish the Grounders had been like this. I feel like there’s more thought in creating this society in one episode than in creating that one over 7 seasons.

I love Bones in this and his role as cultural translator.

The Federation believes in self-determination.

“The sky does not interest me.”

I really do dig the world building here. There’s so much going on in this one ep, even just in part of an ep, and you really get the sense that this is a whole world with its own rules and customs and values, and its own complex political machinations that our mains have really just wandered into.

Also the soundtrack today is NOT messing around. TV composers just don’t go this hard anymore, sorry.

Oooh now the Klingon’s afraid at the prospect of fighting Kirk.

The Enterprise just walked into a coup I guess.

Lots of fighting! Kirk must be having fun.

Scotty is so commanding! I feel like he and Uhura were already friends at this point. Like whenever he’s in command she seems really comfortable just wandering up to his chair all the time.

Also why are they ALWAYS signing stuff?

Yessss silent triumvirate communication.

“To live is always desirable.” I mean she’s not wrong but so much for being willing to die without a fuss lol.

It’s kind of wild how this ep started out being about a mining treaty and drama with the Klingons and all of this alien political drama and then basically becomes all about saving one (1) pregnant widow (and themselves) from huge, ,hostile aliens in funny feather boas.

Sulu insulting Scotty’s knowledge of ships lol. Not smart.

Can’t believe the Klingon couldn’t get his weapon back but Kirk got his communicators back no problem. Who is the smarter alien?

They’ll find us BY SCENT ALONE what a detail to just throw in there!

Lol this whole scene with McCoy and Eleen is hilarious and ridiculous in equal measure. Like I can’t entirely blame her for not wanting to be touched intimately by a strange alien man (rude!!) but also I do enjoy McCoy’s gruff insistence that he WILL care for his patient. This is what AOs didn’t get about “Grumpy Bones.” He’s not mean, he’s just...not up for niceties when he has a healing to do. He WILL care for you dammit!

And he has soft hands.

Spock is loving this.

Kirk’s subtle reverse psychology. “Well if you don’t think the communicator plan can work” and then Spock like “I didn’t say that exactly...”

They aren’t human, they’re humanoid!

And again, the subtle taunting/goading of Bones: “Well if you can’t do it...”

I’m a doctor, not an escalator! One of the best lines.

Detective Scotty. Kind of ridiculous how he solves the case of the taunting Klingons luring them away from the planet...but then sticks around a bit more just in case.

The child is McCoy’s!

Spock is so uncomfortable with this giving birth thing. “Oh look Captain, vegetation!”

“Just repeat ‘The child is mine.’“ “Yes, the child is yours.” Lol.

Arts and crafts with Kirk and Spock! I love that this is a McCoy ep with subtle space husbands in the background.

Favorite moment though is McCoy trying to teach Spock how to hold a baby. “I would rather not, thank you.”

“Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on...won’t get fooled again.”

I love that Chekov is consciously messing with them about everything being from Russia.

Also the absolute GALL of the Klingons trying the exact same ship luring technique a second time.

Can’t believe that Bones wants to go off and have fun with the boys and just leave the baby alone in the cave. You’re a dad now McCoy!! Be responsible!

“Small patient.” Yes very small!

Cool little robot battle station unfolding at the helm.

I feel like when Kirk and Spock have that exchange about cavalry coming over the hill and Spock says "if by that you mean..." Kirk should have answered, "I thought I just said that." But then that wouldn't be very Kirk of him. He never makes fun of Spock.

This Klingon is not having a good day!

Scotty and the redshirts here to save the day.

I guess Maab wasn’t so bad after all. And Elaan is perhaps a little confusing, but I admire her desire to both save herself and adhere to her people’s traditions, even if those are incompatible desires.

Spock absolutely IS going to consult linguistics about baby talk. Probably Uhura specifically.

LEONARD JAMES AKAAR. Absolutely one of the top 5 final bridge scenes. They really missed an opportunity to return to the planet in a later movie or series and interact with the Teer.Captain Picard meets Leonard James Akaar.

This was a good ep! I really only remembered the Bones and Elaan parts with the baby, so I forgot all of the political machinations and stuff in the beginning of the ep. It’s a pretty solid world building episode and of course, lots of McCoy, can’t go wrong with that.

I actually think it makes a lot of sense for Bones to be the child’s “father” tbh. Like, I know everyone thinks it’s funny but like... in our culture, we assign pseudo-parental roles to people who aren’t blood relatives of children based on the adult’s relationship with the child’s blood relative and that’s arguably weirder. Like you can be a kid’s step father by marrying his mom even if you really don’t have any relationship to him, so why shouldn’t McCoy, who saved Leonard’s mother’s life and delivered him, and convinced her to actually desire to raise him, be considered his “father”? ESP given that this society seems to have no place at all for fatherless children. They just can’t conceive of such a thing. So “father” has to encompass something other than, or not strictly limited to, biological father. She was so quick to assign McCoy fatherhood status, I have to assume this happens a lot, that people take on that role for non-bio children.

Not a lot for Spock to do today but I think he had fun. He got to explode some rocks and make some bows and shoot some arrows. And Kirk got into a lot of fights so I think he enjoyed himself.

I don’t know if I believed the Cappellans were 7 feet tall but they did look broad and alien so I will give them that.

It was nice to see Scotty in command again. I’m so mad at AOS still for making him comic relief. I think he’s actually quite a serious person. Talking with my mom, I’ve decided that the crew can be grouped into ‘cracks jokes through a crisis’ and ‘generally gets very serious in a crisis, reserves humor for calm moments’ and while Sulu, Chekov, and Spock are in group 1, Scotty is definitely in group 2 with Kirk and McCoy. (Uhura seems generally lighthearted and fun loving but not funny per se so I don’t know how to group her.)

Also this is one of the early filmed Chekov episodes (as you can see by the hair) and he spends it, again, at Spock’s station. It’s so obvious he was introduced as Spock’s protege, not as the navigator, which I think is very interesting. Like I want to hear the backstory on that.

Next week’s episode is The Deadly Years, which I remember as being very solid.

#star trek tos #the year 2021 #2021: star trek #2021: star trek tos

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ask-de-writer · 4 years ago

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KURIN’S FOLLY : World of Sea : Part 8 of 15

KURIN’S FOLLY

Part 8

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

23,699 words

writing begun 2006

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story? Read from the beginning. Part 1 is here

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“Lost Gatherings? Kurin, that was a thousand Gatherings back! I’m not that old!” Lissa snorted. Then she reflected, “That history is gone too, so I guess that it does fit, after all.” She gave a sad little laugh at that.

Master Juris was eyeing them warily. It was clear that his plot had gone awry but he could not figure out how it had happened. Alor, following Kurin and Lissa silently at a distance, shot Master Juris a hard look. He did not even look embarrassed.

While Lissa found seats, Kurin went to see what the cooks could spare. Getting a hint from Kurin’s mind, High Cloud sailed from her shoulder and landed neatly on the table by Lissa. Startled, Lissa began to pull back but then leaned forward and softly asked, “Are you my Murin? I suppose not. It has been too long and you are too young. If you ever do find him, could you bring him to me?”

Kurin came to the table with a laden tray and sat across from Lissa. She smiled at her mother and said, “He says that he will watch but Sea is big.” High Cloud strutted about the tray viewing the contents from all angles and settled down where Kurin could easily reach him with her chopsticks.

Soon they were laughing merrily over Kurin’s comic account of her first attempt to fly. She had ridden in High Cloud’s body as he flew so often that she was sure that she could do it herself, if High Cloud would just let her try controlling his body. She had been embarrassingly wrong. “And he makes it look so easy!” she finished.

She picked up a piece of red weed bun and held it out to the smug looking bird. He had picked the story from Kurin’s mind and remembered it very well. His head was bobbing, crest lifted in amusement, along with their laughter. He paused long enough to snag the bun and make short work of it, lifting his head as he swallowed each bite. Lissa hesitantly held out a fillet of skelt and High Cloud took it gently from her chopsticks.

Kurin looked on approvingly and offered, “What do you want to do with yourself now, Lissa?”

Lissa looked troubled and said, “I don’t know, yet. I used to work for the weaving shop doing loom and equipment maintenance. When I wasn’t doing that, I made things for other shops, mostly little things that the boat shop didn’t want to burden themselves with. I expect that nobody will trust me to do anything for a while.”

“I will,” Kurin said decisively. “I am going to need quite a bit of help for the next six Wohans. I have navigation and mapping classes to teach, mapping to do and I need to make toys for sale in my booth at the Gathering of the Fleet.”

“That is a lot to do for an apprentice. What is your Craft and who is your Master?” Lissa asked in curiosity.

A bitter laugh interrupted them. Master Juris snorted, “The little ingrate jumped ship. I got her certified as a full journeyman Boat Builder and how did she repay us all? She went and adopted onto the Grandalor!”

Kurin angrily retorted, “Speaking of ingrates, I did it because it was the only way to save your life! Anybody should know better than to threaten an officer of the court right in front of the judge! The Wergeld that saved you from immediate execution needed me off this ship. Ever since then, you have been trying to get the agreement overturned by your every word and deed. Do you want to be executed so badly? I can accommodate you, if you want it.

“Alor is right over there. All that I have to do is ask her for a Council meeting. For some reason, the Combined Council is fond enough of this vessel to want to keep it unscattered. I’m pretty sure that they will either declare you insane and remove your Master’s Certificate or renounce you entirely and let you swim to my foster father.”

Alor stepped over to the fray and said heavily, “You don’t have to call the meeting, Kurin. The Council has already made the decision to save the Longin. They put the determination into my hands as Purser.”

She turned to face Master Juris and said sadly, “Your services as a Master Boat Builder are no longer possible. You have just broken your oath to the Combined Council of the Longin, given not two hours ago. You must decide whether you are mad and will live or are sane and die. You have until the end of this watch to make up your mind. Either way, give your Certificate to me by then so that I can return it to the Fleet Craft Council.”

Kurin wept openly. To a now horrified Master Juris, who had not believed that he could be dismissed, she said in a shaking voice, “Why couldn’t you let me save you? I have tried every way that I know how.

“I’m not sorry that I went to the Grandalor. Tanlin and Barad are good foster parents, and Selked is a good Master.”

To everyone’s surprise, Lissa wrapped Kurin in a hug and rocked her gently. She stroked Kurin’s white hair and crooned softly, “I’m sure that you tried. Master Juris always was famous for never letting go once he set himself on someone. He hangs on to his grudges tighter than the bite of a Grimm’s Eel. He made the choice, not you. There are limits to even a Dragon’s Gift, I guess. I am sorry that you love him so much when he has so much hate that he would rather lose his shop instead of simply live.”

Lissa steered Kurin away from the group that had gathered. “Let us go set up your toy shop. I need something to do and so do you.” High Cloud snagged a skelt fillet and launched himself casually across the room, landing on Kurin’s shoulder, next to Lissa’s arm. He was trying to stuff it down Kurin’s throat as they went out of the mess.

Alor caught up with them as they reached the main deck. It was clouding over but not stormy. She told Kurin, “I have your shop assignment. It’s old married quarters, A4. The tannery was using it for a storeroom but it was too out of the way. It will be cleared in another hour or so.”

“A4?” asked Kurin in a quivering voice.

Puzzled, Alor replied, “What’s the problem? It has a port for light. It’s even larger than you asked for and it hasn’t been used for Gatherings . . .”

“Not since my Murin Behar died there,” finished Lissa firmly.

Alor’s eyes widened in horror. Putting her face in her hands, she asked softly, “How could we forget? Is there anything that we can do right?”

“It wasn’t the most sensitive thing that I’ve ever heard of,” Lissa snorted, mildly amused. “At least there’s no ghost to worry about.” She pointed at the far off clouds, “My Murin is out there, somewhere, not here. The room will be fine.”

As Alor left, Lissa looked down at Kurin and asked, “It will be alright, won’t it?”

Kurin looked up at her and said, “Yes, it just has bad memories, that’s all.”

Arm in arm, mother and daughter walked slowly to the after companionway. Down in Alor’s cabin, Kurin selected her tool chest, and some other items from her gear. Lissa helped her to carry everything.

The new cabin did not have the memories that Kurin expected. It was just an empty cabin, well lit and reasonably roomy. Lissa had been right. Her father was long gone from the space and there was nothing of him left.

Kurin set about measuring the new space for workbenches, tool racks and the other necessities of her work.

The next day, a surly boat shop apprentice named Morgan was helping them to build the benches. The young man kept glancing fearfully at Lissa. Every time that he did, he made some small bungle in his work.

Exasperated at the third error in spreading the glue to laminate her new bench top, Kurin took the roller from his hand. Irritated she told him, “High Cloud spreads glue better than you do. Why couldn’t the boat shop have sent me Roper or Luin? I know that they can do this. I trained them myself.”

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS ~ NEXT==>

#KURIN'S FOLLY #Part 8 of 15 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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riceccakes · 4 years ago

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Same Boat

hi guys. I wrote this lil one shot based on the song "Same Boat" by Lizzy McAlpine. I totaaaally suggest listening to the song either before you read this or during it. some other notes as well: no bending, i casually threw in that Korra plays basketball, I'd say age wise Asami is 22 and Korra is 21. i think that's everything there will be a sister one shot to this, i guess we can say it like that. the next one will also be based on a song by Lizzy McAlpine and focus on Korra. read it here enjoy :) x

or here on tumblr :)

There weren’t many things Asami wouldn’t do. She was the one to kill the spider, or rather, place it in a cup and take it outside. She was the driver; sure Mako and Bolin knew how to drive, and Korra was getting there, but no matter what, whenever the crew went out, Asami would drive. She was the one to buy the movie tickets, call the restaurant to place a reservation, the one to plan any get together, and she didn’t mind being that one.

“Come on,” Bolin said, waving around his chopsticks as he held a takeaway carton of noodles from Narook’s. “There’s gotta be something you wouldn’t do.”

Asami shook her head with a small smile, “I don’t know, I mean, if I ever got the chance to do something, I’d probably take it.”

“Any chance to do anything?” Bolin questioned, “If you had the chance to see the Northern Lights, right now?”

“I’d take the next flight out,” she said, matter-of-factly. She then looked down at her attire: a pair of shorts and an old tee shirt. “And maybe buy a jacket while I’m at it.”

Bolin looked out the window, the snowfall had settled. “What about the chance to watch the snow fall, for the first time, all over again?”

Asami grinned, “I’d be a kid all over again if I could feel snowfall for the first time.”

“Feel?”

“Are you joking? Snow is magical, you can’t be telling me you don’t feel your breath get taken away when you watch the snow fall. No doubt I’d go back in time to experience it for the first time.”

“So, really, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do?”

It was in the back of her mind, burning her throat. She knew of one thing, one thing she could never do, even if she was given a thousand chances to do so. Korra and Mako were in the living room, playing a game of Connect 4. They finished their dinner first tonight, mostly to prove themself right that they would win a game of Connect 4. Asami and Bolin stayed in the kitchen, picking at whatever was left in the takeaway cartons. Asami could see Korra sitting on the floor, they were using the coffee table to play. Korra had a look of determination on her face, her tongue sticking out slightly. She held her chin in her hand and scanned the plastic token holder as if her life depended on it.

Gosh, she’s adorable.

She could never tell Korra about her feelings. She couldn’t remember the day or what exactly they’d been doing, all Asami could remember is looking over at Korra and feeling her face grow red and her heart become full. If she tried hard enough, she could remember what they were doing in that moment, but Asami knew these feelings had been building up and only until she let herself feel them did everything change. Suddenly, all Asami could think about was Korra: what she was in the mood for to eat, if she’d sit in the passenger seat or in the back with Bolin, if her basketball training went well that day, whether or not she’d sleep over at the boys’ apartment or if she’d need a ride back to the temple where she stayed with Tenzin and his family. At first, she just thought it was since they were best friends. Their relationship had grown so much over the years they knew each other and Asami thought she was just connecting with her friend.

Then she started looking at Korra’s arms and not just when Korra would show off and flex on the boys. She’d look at how sculpted they were, at the few scars she had scattered up and down them, at the freckles that were on her wrists and one on her shoulder. She started associating the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with Korra, though the sweetness was a bit unexpected from the fierce and tough exterior of the girl. But, as Asami got to know her, she realized it wasn’t strange at all, since Korra’s smile warmed every part of her soul.

Suddenly, anytime the Kyoshi and the Warriors song came on the radio, she’d remember the day her and Korra drove around the city, blasting the song with the top down. She’d remember how loudly Korra screamed each word, Asami could still feel her stomach hurt from laughing so much at her. Korra would cross her mind when she’d turn on the TV to watch Wan, how one time at one in the morning, Korra had fallen asleep on the couch and Asami was using the TV as background noise as she did her work. At first, the girl was a bit confused, rubbing her eyes to look at the TV, but slowly she started saying the words, and once confirming the show, confidently spoke along. When the sequence was over and the show began, Korra looked at Asami and simply said, “Well, I’m gonna go back to sleep. You should sleep too.”

She couldn’t tell Korra, she just couldn’t. Asami accepted her feelings, yes, but she could never act on them. Raava forbid she bring it up and Korra doesn’t feel the same way. Sure, the girls would sometimes lay in bed together, one of them resting their head on the chest of the other as they mindlessly scrolled through their phones. And sure, even if there was all the couch space in the world, Korra would still sit down next to Asami. Sure, Korra would randomly text Asami through the day, sometimes sending a picture of someone’s dog or an incoherent keyboard smash with a few texts after it saying anyways, I just needed to get that out. And say hi to you. So hi :). They were just friends, Asami was convinced.

The question Bolin asked had already crossed Asami’s mind. If she ever grew the courage to let Korra know how safe she makes her feel, if she ever grew the courage to let Korra know how seen she makes her feel, if Korra were the one to ask, she wasn’t sure of what she would say. She had an idea of how it could go, but even in her mind she could barely go through with it. She challenged herself one time, to follow through the daydream, and she got so lost in it she started to tear up. Thankfully, she was alone in her office at the Sato mansion, so no one had to watch Asami get caught up in telling Korra that she never thought she’d experience love as unconditional as Korra’s.

Thinking about what she would say was one thing, but thinking of how Korra would react was something entirely in itself a challenge. Would the girl reject her, right off the bat, or would there be a moment of silence as she took in all Asami had told her? Would Asami crumble under the suspense and run to the bathroom to bawl her eyes out? Or would Asami take the final step and whisper if Korra felt the same, if Korra wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss Korra?

The thought of it all, of telling Korra her feelings, of waiting for a response, of the aftermath, it terrified her. She had no idea how to navigate it, if she were alone in her stance. She couldn’t lose her home, the one person who made her forget all the stress of the world, the one person who would ground her when she was getting in too far over her head, the one person who would push her to do better because she knew she could be better. That kind of person doesn’t come around very often; maybe she was that person for Korra. There was a small voice, in the very back corner of her mind, that said She could like you but how could she ever know if her and Korra were in the same boat?

#lok #korrasami #asami sato #korra #angsty #asami struggles to tell korra she likes her #one shot #fluffy #lizzy mcalpine #same boat #ricewrites

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hopeandharmonizing · 4 years ago

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Meta: Power of Silver

I was galaxy braining this morning, and some of Briar’s base concepts are forming into developed thoughts, so I figured I should write them down. This is part one of two.

Silver Aura

Originally this just came from her color scheme. Monochrome color palette for a black colored gray wolf with “gold” accent. Grayish midtone meshed with similar metallic made silver the choice, especially following along with being a foil to Jaune and his yellow/gold primaries.

But then I realized silver has a meaning in the series, and I could do something with that. Especially when that meaning is protecting life, and one of Briar’s main themes / motivations is self preservation.

Briar’s power from the very start of unlocking her semblance has been to protect herself. Now, nothing is meant to imply that she has the same powers as silver eyes, or that she is a descendant of the light god like the warriors. It is meant to imply that she has tapped into a facet of those powers by being a devoted follower of the same values of light, love, life, creation, and protection on a deep and personal level and made them her own, individual power - her aura, her semblance: The drive and ability for self care, self love, self expression... and a desire for others to do the same, for themselves. her semblance is effectively that call to grow; it projects onto people in the form of forcing them to face their fears and doubts. If they have not or cannot, then her own light outshines them, protects her from the harm that someone who does not understand themselves, who does not trust or love fully might do.

Aura Projection / How Alpha Override Works

Her skill with this power involves three parts! 1) Her time lost in/navigating the Anima Woods and dealing with the grimm.

Nothing like being regularly under real attack to build up aura reserves and strengthen them. :’] This also meant lots of time on her own, having to figure things out, learn about the world, process her grief on her own.

And doing so was her only choice, because negative emotions attracted more grimm. She had to learn to cope, to talk her fears down and cheer herself up to keep herself safe. Say, by singing happy little ditties to herself?

She learned exactly what it takes to keep grimm from being able to hunt someone down so easily based on emotions, and that good feelings could actually keep them at bay.

followed by, yanno, actual combat school formal training.

2) Stage persona cultivation.

Once she determined she wanted to become a musician, building confidence and presence was all part of that.

She was always expressive and charismatic, but practice in projecting herself and having real influence over larger and larger crowds started seeping into everything she does, giving her aura projection more power.

Here’s a double edged sword for you: The stronger her passive semblance projection gets, the harder she has to work to overcome the distraction and fear it causes to actually have her real thoughts and emotions perceived. Which circles back to make her aura/semblance projection even stronger. Forgive her if she gets dramatic at times to get her point across. I know I’m not always the best at writing this, but I try.

3) Her own belief that everything is connected.

Morkmani lessons involved interdependence and interconnection. Life is in us all, all life is worthy. We all live off the same earth. We are all under the same sky and moon and stars. We are all stardust. We are all products of our ancestors and each other. We all take care of each other.

(Unless, of course, we’re being threatened. The pact is broken. Then we take care of our own.)

As she lived out in nature. lived on the streets. lived off the kindness of strangers, and reintegrated into new places, learned both good and bad lessons from mentors and teachers and classmates - Briar already internalized these beliefs and then repeatedly saw them actualized.

When she is with you, you are part of her. When she sings she is giving herself to you.

[Infinite and unbound] She is good at projecting because she does not place limits on herself or other people. While - especially between human and faunus, victims and aggressors - she is not ignorant of lines that exist and can be crossed, but overall she likes to think there is no difference between herself and other living things, so her aura doesn’t recognize the separation either.

This is why I want threads where Briar helps train Ruby. Maria helped Ruby learn that the silver eyes are for protecting life, that she should think of her loved ones, that she needs to focus and find a mental state to channel her powers. Briar can then remind and/or teach her that protecting life means not only protecting others, but recognizing the power of herself. That her own life is just as precious and worth protecting as anyone else’s, that she carries the pride and love of her mother with her, her ancestors, other silver-eyed warriors lost to time, everyone who believes in what she stands for. And she can teach her how to compound and project that power as far and as strong as she needs to. (Obviously, Briar’s not going to be canon, so I really hope Ruby gets something similar to this addressed at some point. That would be cool.)

#( some like it beautiful perfect and pretty / i see the good in the bad and the ugly || character development )#( i'm your rock n roll joan of arc / the queen of broken hearts || headcanon )

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raendown · 5 years ago

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Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 8688 Chapter: 34/42 Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.

In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn’t happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 34

“Was it necessary to send us off with a two hour breakfast?” Madara rolled his neck, looking for the angle to crack it so he could finally be free of the crick that had been bothering him for the past forty minutes. At his side Tobirama scoffed.

“After the consistent excess of the last seven days do you really need to ask that question?”

“I suppose not. It was all just so…so…”

“Excessive.”

“Yes!” Madara paused to sigh with relief when his neck finally cracked and then immediately took up the rant again. “I mean, sure he’s an important man. In a way. But he would probably be a lot more useful if he actually did something with his time other than pander to his own entertainment and turn every occasion in to a massive party!”

Tobirama hummed. “When I was last in the city he had no time for celebration because he was tending to important matters. I think perhaps he simply saw an opportunity. From what I heard things have only just settled down after the attempted coup, the last of the conspirators have seen their trials, so it’s possible he was using the excuse of celebrating our good deeds as a chance to bring the morale back up and reinvent the image of his reign. If the people remain unhappy and tense that can only create a perfect breeding ground for more discontent.”

“You know, I hate it when you’re logical.”

“I did know that.”

Madara harrumphed and quickened his pace to pull ahead as a sign of his own discontent. How dare Tobirama disprove his irritation with logical reasoning and simple deductions? Of course he couldn’t stay mad for long when Tobirama caught up and smoothly wove their fingers together in a firm grip. The man really did know his weaknesses.

Pretending to be grumpy and ignoring his husband was supposed to be a punishment for Tobirama and yet as the silence continued Madara discovered that it was really just as terrible for him. Silence gave room for all the thoughts he’d been trying to keep at the back of his mind to rush forward and make themselves known all over again. Naughty thoughts. Thoughts that definitely did not make continuing to walk any easier. He’d been trying not to let his mind travel down this path since they woke up and for this very reason.

As a grown man several years past when shinobi were considered to reach adulthood he knew it was just a little ridiculous to still be nervous about the idea of intimacy. He knew that not everyone from his clan actually followed the traditions as strictly as he did, people like Susumu-sensei who cared very little for whether or not they ever fell in love and gave their bodies away whenever they felt the desire to do so. With the way the Senju were raised he would not be surprised if there were still a part of Tobirama that thought he was being completely ridiculous holding out for such a subjective landmark as knowing for sure that he was in love. And yet here he was walking in silence and knowing that he was ready but also mentally spinning in circles with anxiety. Feeling anxious about this felt a little stupid, admittedly. Sex was supposed to feel good but even if it didn’t it wasn’t like he’d never felt pain before. Madara wasn’t really sure what precisely was making him nervous, actually, which only served to make him feel even more stupid.

Whatever stupid catch his brain kept stumbling on he was determined not to let it have any effect. He’d known for a while now that he desired his husband. No stupid overemotional thoughts should have the power to stop him from experiencing those things if he wanted to.

But kami forbid Tobirama notice. Madara wasn’t sure he would outlive the embarrassment of Tobirama having to console him again for not being ready. He was a grown ass adult and he did not need anyone to hold his hand when he was nervous like a small child afraid of the dark. It was nice but he didn’t need it. Especially not because every time he was allowed a glimpse behind his husband’s barriers Madara couldn’t help but feel a wave of guilt for how badly he could tell the man wanted to take the next step between them. At some point he really needed to find a way to show his gratitude for Tobirama’s patience and accommodation as they danced around each other trying to navigate the maze of their own emotions.

Eventually the silence grew overwhelming and Madara struck up a conversation on the first thing to cross his mind, blurting it out with little thought just to distract himself from the stupidity he had already gone over in his own mind a hundred times and more.

“You look a lot better now than you did a few months ago.” It took a great deal of effort not to shrink with regret as soon as the words were out of his mouth but somehow he managed to stand strong under the baffled look Tobirama turned to give him, clearly unsure if he should be insulted or not.

“I think I need a little more context on that statement.”

“You just look healthier I mean. Because you’re sleeping properly and you’re not skipping breakfast to avoid me. And…I’m glad.”

“Oh.” Tobirama paused, probably trying to think of how to respond to that. “Did I really look all that bad?”

Angling his steps to walk a little closer, Madara pressed their shoulders together in an approximation of a hug. “Sometimes you looked like you were going to fall apart in a strong breeze. Your eyes didn’t just have bags, they had entire suitcases. I’m sorry that I turned you in to that.”

“The misunderstandings between us had fault on both sides,” Tobirama assured him.

“Did they though? You thought you already knew me after writing all those letters. There’s no way you could have known it wasn’t me answering them.”

“And there is no way you could have known I ever wrote them in the first place. Looking back, I should not have been so aggressive in my approach. Neither of us reacted very well to each other that night but we’re happy now and that’s more important, yes?”

Madara looked away to hide his smile. “I suppose I could be considered happy.”

“Oh is that how it is?”

When he peeked back over Tobirama was smiling too with a light in his eyes that Madara had gotten to know quite well. His husband was indeed happy and there was a domestic sort of joy in knowing he was the cause of it that made everything inside him settle quite suddenly. All of the nerves that had been bothering him hung suspended as he wondered why he was wasting the effort to worry when Tobirama had proven time and time again that he would always be kind and caring. The reserved front he presented to the rest of the world was just that: a front. In private he was so much more. He was everything Madara had ever dreamed of.

The rest of their day didn’t feel quite as nerve-wracking as the beginning had. Even the casual unhurried pace they travelled at was able to keep him in a calm, contented mood as they made their way towards home. Since they weren’t rushing the journey would be stretched out over two days again so they made camp that night by the edge of a small lake from which Tobirama caught several fish for their dinner. After spending a week in a massive bed that could have fit three other couples on the mattress with them he almost expected the limited space of their tent to feel a little claustrophobic but once they bedded down he realized that it made very little different since they slept curled together anyway.

Passing through the village gates after the second day of travel was done with very little fanfare, the gate guards waving them in after a brief chakra scan to ensure their identities. They were still proudly expressing their satisfaction with the improvements in village security when they passed under a second set of gates marking the entrance to the Uchiha district and were nearly mowed down by a relatively small body. Madara watched with disgustingly sappy thoughts as Tobirama allowed Kagami to practically crawl all over him in greeting after being apart for more than a week.

“Where’s my hello?” he demanded after the initial happy screeching had passed.

“Hi!” Kagami smiled at him and then immediately turned back to his teacher, who was now shaking lightly with suppressed laughter. “I’m glad you’re back sensei! Are you going to leave again soon? Please don’t! When can we train again? I promise I did all my exercises every day while you were gone!”

Neither of them could get much of a word in edgewise as he prattled on, recounting in almost painful detail all the progress he’d made on one of the simple chakra exercises Tobirama had been teaching him. Admittedly his husband did look fairly impressed, deeply engaged in just a few sentences, so even though it chafed a little Madara very carefully stayed quiet and allowed the two of them to reconnect.

One might think he wouldn’t be quite so protective of Tobirama’s time after just spending more than a week together all day every day but for the most part those days had been filled with social events and attending scheduled performances where they were required to sit prominently as guests of honor. Having the Daimyo’s regard should not be this troublesome. Now that they were home he’d been hoping they could at least enjoy the rest of the day with just each other, no interruptions and no forced socialization, but it seemed his dreams were not to be. Kagami followed them all the way home and invited himself inside to continue chattering away as Tobirama puttered around the kitchen to whip them all up a very late lunch.

It wasn’t until he very gently mentioned that the two of them needed to unpack that the boy seemed to talk himself out but even then he extracted several promises before he left for Tobirama to give up his lunch hour the next day so the two of them could meet at their favorite training grounds. The sound of his little legs stumbling down the porch steps faltered for a few moments only to be followed with the impact of shoes against dirt belying the leap he must have taken, bounding everywhere as he was wont to do. In his wake Tobirama stood in the middle of their living room holding his travel bag and sighed almost wistfully.

“He’s getting so big.”

“As long as he stays shorter than me I’ll be happy,” Madara grumbled, turning away to head for the laundry room. The sound of Tobirama chuckling followed him down the hall.

“Most of your clansmen tend around the same height as you but at the rate he’s sprouting up I don’t know if you can count on that.”

Throwing his pack down so he could tear it open in search of all the dirty laundry he had accrued, Madara harrumphed, repeating the sound louder when he stood up to feel a hand slipping around his waist. “Growth. What a ridiculous notion. All children should stay small.”

“Smaller than you, you mean?”

“Yes!” Tossing his clothes in the right baskets was a little awkward while being held against another solid body but he didn’t really want to pull away so he made it work. “They stay small forever, I stay young forever, all the elders can kick the bucket because they’re nosey old coots with outdated ideas, and everyone gets to be happy.”

Tobirama pressed a quick smooch to the side of his head. “It sounds like the perfect world.”

Choosing to ignore the dry tone those words had been delivered in, Madara nodded magnanimously and waited until Tobirama released him to sort out his own laundry. Then he gathered up the rest of his things and made his way upstairs to sort them out. Nothing had ever been quite as relieving as walking in to his own bedroom knowing that everything in this room belonged only to them and no one would ever dare to disturb them here. It was like walking in to a haven, an oasis, a pocket of calm removed from the rest of the world. The moment he was inside all plans of unpacking flew out the window. Madara forced himself to at least set his bag down against the dresser before slipping away to the bathroom to rinse of his hands and face.

Then he returned to the bedroom, shed his outer layers, and let his body collapse across the familiar surface of their mattress just as Tobirama walked through the door behind him.

“Someone is happy to be home,” his husband noted and Madara let out a quiet purr. “Not even going to finish sorting your things?”

“It can wait,” he murmured.

“Your things can wait, perhaps, but it will drive me insane if I don’t unpack my own.”

Listening to the sounds of the other man rummaging around the room, just the quiet domestic sounds of everyday life, somehow worked as the most soothing lullaby. Madara drifted off before he even realized what was happening, startling awake from his impromptu power nap perhaps ten minutes later when Tobirama shut the door to the bathroom. A moment later there came the sounds of the shower running and he smiled. He was not the only fastidious one between them.

Now that he’d had his little moment of lethargy he felt just refreshed enough to sit up and stare consideringly at where he’d dropped his possessions. Should he unpack? Tobirama had said it would bother him not to unpack his own things but he hadn’t said anything about Madara's. At the very least he should probably move his bag so it was a little less in the direct path of where either of them would be walking. Being someone who tended towards clumsiness in the mornings, he could testify that the less tripping hazards present the better.

A dissatisfied groan rumbled up in his throat as he forced himself to swing him legs out and stand up slowly. Standing up was so much worse when he could have been lying down. A few more dissatisfied rumblings escaped him as he snatched up the pack and poked his nose in, trying to decide if he had the energy to sort through the contents. He decided no. The canvas made a very light thump when it landed in the corner and the sound was further muted by the sound of footsteps coming back in to the room. Either Tobirama was just that tired, dragging his feet along the carpet, or he was putting in a conscious effort to make sound when he walked so neither of them startled the other.

It was still a little surprising to feel soft lips pressing against the back of his shoulder, pale skin flashing in his peripherals as Tobirama brought one hand up to push the giant mass of Madara's hair aside so he could leave a row of kisses down the back of his neck as well.

“Welcome home,” he said and Madara furrowed his brows in confusion.

“You came home with me.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t give you a proper welcome.”

It took a few moments of thinking for him to read between the lines, distracted as he was with the gentle affections. When he realized what the other meant he flushed a little. Partly with embarrassment for being so slow and partly with a shameful sort of eagerness. Maybe he should have showered too.

“Go on then,” he breathed. “Show me what you think a proper welcome home entails.”

Tobirama wasted no time pulling him around to face each other and Madara barely had a chance to register the almost serious expression before he was swept away with a deep kiss that gave him a new understanding of that old phrase about floating on nine clouds or something. Already a genius at many things, it was almost unfair that he should be so good at this too and yet Madara could not find any desire inside him to complain. He was the one that benefitted the most after all.

Strong hands framed his hips in a tight grip but they did not linger for very long. Soon they were travelling upwards, skimming along his sides in a touch that somehow felt almost lewd despite there still being layers of clothing between them, dipping inwards to caress his chest before sliding up his vulnerable neck to bury themselves deep in the mess of his hair. When Tobirama gripping two handfuls tightly Madara whimpered at the sensation. He’d never thought having his hair pulled would actually be a pleasant experience but he wasn’t exactly upset to be proven wrong on the point. If Tobirama wanted to prove him wrong on anything in the bedroom he couldn’t say he would ever be upset about it when the results were this good.

At some point he realized that he was doing little more than standing still and allowing himself to be pawed at by the admittedly welcome beast in front of him. What exactly he should be doing was difficult to figure out with such a pleasant distraction taking up most of his cognitive processes but eventually he muddled his way in to a decision that maybe wrapping his arms around the strong shoulders before him would be nice. That was simple enough. Bringing his hands in to proximity with all that pale soft hair made him wonder if Tobirama would make the same noises as him to have the strands gently tugged on.

He did.

Such a delicious discovery was enough to keep his attention riveted further, enough distraction that he barely noticed the shuffle of their feet as he was led slowly backwards until he was caught between the solid body in front and a tall dresser behind. It was not a trap he was upset to find himself in. Not even when those clever fingers stopped tugging senseless patterns in the back of his head to slide down instead and pull inquisitively at the knot of his obi. All he could do was pull Tobirama in a little closer and tilt his head the way his husband did sometimes to deepen their kiss, satisfied to earn himself a quiet groan of appreciation.

What finally caught his attention and brought him back out of the building haze was the sensation of cool air against his chest when the panels of his shirt were tugged a few inches apart. His eyes fluttered open to find Tobirama watching him with a very careful expression, something almost reserved in his eyes caging in the heat Madara could see just waiting to pounce. For a moment he couldn’t imagine what would make such a confident man hesitate at a time like this. Then he scoffed.

“If I haven’t stopped you yet then I think it’s safe to say I’m fine with this.”

“You’re sure?”

“Stop asking me if I’m sure,” Madara growled, “and do something. I’m not the one that knows what he’s doing here, you’re sort of the one in charge.”

He hadn’t intended for his words to be sexy in any way, had been trying to cover up any lingering hints of the last of his insecurities, but he realized what they might have sounded like only when Tobirama’s eyes widened and the cage around his obvious desires fell away with one heated look.

“If I’d known that’s how you felt about it…”

With a wicked grin he dropped his gaze to trace the red spreading out across Madara's cheeks. Which, of course, only made the blush darken.

Flustered, Madara did the only thing he could think of to prove that he was completely and totally not at all in any way whatsoever embarrassed by what was happening. A quiet snarl of determination echoed through his teeth as he reached down to fumble some more with the knot in his obi, a little too tight after getting dressed in the limited space of their shared tent that morning. He continued to struggle with uncharacteristically clumsy fingers until another pale set laid themselves over his own.

“May I?” Tobirama asked and he swallowed against a lump in his throat.

“If you want to.” He couldn’t think of a good way to say the idea of Tobirama undressing him was incredibly erotic and he had no problems indulging in one of the most common fantasies he had been able to cobble together with his lack of experience and vivid imagination.

Yet somehow in all of his imaginings he had apparently been forgetting one key detail that ramped up the heat exponentially. Those eyes. Keeping still was difficult when he found himself equally caught up in the feathery touches of clothing sliding away from his body and the heat of those pretty red eyes increasing with every inch of skin revealed. Madara had expected to feel exposed, expected he would need to fight off the instinctive urge to cover himself up. He did not expect how feeling the weight of that hot gaze made him want to puff out his chest and preen like a bird fluffing out its feathers for display. Feeling so desirable gave him the confidence to reach out and slip his fingers in to his husband’s clothing so they were undressing each other at the same time.

When he stood bare in nothing but his fundoshi and a puddle of cloth at his feet Madara easily gave in to the tug on his hands drawing him over towards the bed, though he did frown petulantly at having his work interrupted. Tobirama was still wearing trousers. By the light pressure on his shoulder he could tell his partner was trying to topple him backwards but he resisted and reached instead for the ties he was still trying to unknot. For a moment he was distracted by a hot flash of triumph for being allowed to do as he wanted with the other man’s body.

Then the ties came undone and Tobirama’s pants slithered down his body to tangle around his ankles and Madara's eyes were, surprisingly, drawn lower than the naughty bits he thought he would be staring at. His gaze was instead caught on the ring of thick pink scar tissue around mid-thigh on the leg to his right.

“Ah,” Tobirama mumbled in an offhanded fashion. “That would be from one of the more violent laboratory accidents before we improved safety measures. I did say we got the leg reattached just fine.”

“Gods above,” Madara swore under his breath and sat heavily on the edge of the mattress.

Slipping a hand underneath his chin, Tobirama lifted his face up so their eyes could meet. “Does it bother you?”

“The idea of losing you to your own enthusiastic stupidity? Yes. A bit of scarring? Not in the least.”

“Understandable. Well then, allow me to distract you from such thoughts.”

Grinning suddenly in a way that reminded Madara of a hungry beast, Tobirama freed himself from the pool of his own clothing with a couple of swift, elegant motions then reached down to take Madara's hands in his own. He drew them to either side of his fundoshi with one eyebrow lifted in question but left the option of what to do from there to Madara, busying himself with combing his fingers through the long mane of dark hair that always seemed to fascinate him.

It took a few moments to frantically gather his courage but eventually Madara was able to convince his trembling digits to pull at the twisted fabric before him. Their position, he realized only as he pulled, was much more suggestive than he was sure Tobirama had intended. With him seated and the other still standing his face was at the perfect level to stare as a long pale cock was revealed to hang full and heavy between them only a few inches from his startled gaze. Despite many visits to different public onsen and bathhouses he’d never actually taken the time to be so rude as to stare at another man’s genitals. The only frame of reference he had was his own body. As far as cocks go he supposed there wasn’t anything too different between them, they were both the same general shape with small differences in length or girth, so he wasn’t entirely sure what made his mouth water as he continued to stare.

His staring must have gone on for too long and he only stopped when a low rumbling chuckle jerked him back to reality, Tobirama bending down to kiss him soundly. When his husband pulled away Madara flushed deeply.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“You are more than free to appreciate me with that expression any time you like, anata.”

“Oh gods…” Madara covered his face with both hands, mortified, too scared to ask what sort of embarrassing look he’d been wearing just now.

He ignored the swish of footsteps across their carpeted floor, grateful that Tobirama was making the effort to make noise but content to stay hidden in his little pocket of shame until the footsteps returned and he squawked indignantly to be pushed down on the mattress. Tobirama laughed unrepentantly but was at least polite enough to wait for Madara to scramble back a little further before crawling up in to the bed himself.

And he did not stop crawling in a deliciously predatory way until he had fit himself right between Madara's legs, hovering over him with both arms holding his weight to either side of Madara's head and hot eyes tracing lines across the willing sacrifice underneath him.

“You would not believe,” he whispered, “how badly I have wanted this.” Something in the way he spoke gave the impression that he wasn’t only talking about sex but reading between the lines would have to wait for a day when Madara was not entirely focused on his need for discovery, the all-consuming heat building inside him that, between them, only Tobirama would know how to sate.

“Maybe I wouldn’t. But you can have it now.”

“I want all of you, anata. Every part of you. Every inch and every thought and every beat of your heart; I want all of it to belong to me.”

Struggling to draw breath, Madara reached up to pull his husband in and whispered in the fractional space left between their lips. “I already do.”

What possessed him to word his sentence like that he couldn’t say but the effect was more than worth any lingering embarrassment he might have felt for declaring himself so openly. Something in Tobirama’s eyes shattered in the best possible way and he flowed forward to take Madara's lips as a warrior takes his victory, unhesitant and unrestrained, no apologies and no quarter given. Keeping up with his kisses would have been difficult enough even without the distraction of his wandering hands. Madara writhed as the roamed freely across his body leaving trails of fire in their wake. If he gasped Tobirama deepened their kiss. If he arched Tobirama pressed their bodies closer.

It wasn’t until he felt those overwhelming fingers pulling at something on his hip that he remembered there was a single barrier left between them but he was so aroused he couldn’t think of a single reason it should not be done away with. Who had time to be embarrassed? Clearly he was much too busy gasping for air and writhing under the sensation of Tobirama’s hard cock rutting in to the crease of his groin, tucked in alongside his own and oh so good the way they rubbed together.

The exact progression of events existed to Madara as a hazy blur of heat and touch and lewd sounds he hadn’t even realized he was capable of making. Somehow Tobirama’s hands managed to be everywhere at once and yet always just where he needed them to be, stroking without teasing and driving him ever higher towards heights he barely recognized. He’d touched himself before. Obviously. But no shameful quick strokes of his own hand could ever compare to the feeling of teeth scraping up the sides of his neck while Tobirama’s weight rocked them both in to the mattress in a steady rhythm. Madara hardly had time to recognize his end before it was coiling tighter and tighter and he fisted both hands in his husband’s hair, throwing his head back with gritted teeth and praying not yet, not yet, not yet.

“It’s alright,” Tobirama’s voice rumbled against the shell of his ear in panting breaths. “Come for me, husband. Let me watch you fall apart so I can put you back together – and take you apart again.”

If Madara whimpered there was only the two of them here to know and never tell another soul.

Then for a few eternal moments the very knowledge of his own existence was wiped from his mind, whimpers and any other reactionary noises entirely forgotten in the rush of cumming harder than he ever had before. His back arched off the bed with the force of it and his arms lifted off their own accord to wrap around Tobirama’s shoulders and hang on for dear life. When he hit the mattress again he was panting harder than the first time his sensei made him run fifty laps around the old Uchiha compound.

“Oh sweet flames,” he whimpered. “You’re going to do that again?”

“I’m going to do that better,” Tobirama corrected him, pulling away to leer seductively. Madara gaped at him stupidly. The very concept of pleasure any better than that seemed impossible but he’d never known this man to be a liar.

“Prove it.”

Again it seemed he had blurted out exactly the right thing to say without meaning to, something he absently noted would bode well for them doing this again in the future. With all the hunger in his eyes of a man deprived his appetites for more than half a year Tobirama crawled back down the bed and drew his tongue straight through the mess Madara had just made of his own stomach. It should have been gross. Madara wondered if he could pass the heat in his cheeks off as anger instead of the arousal coursing through him, making him twitch no matter than he had just experienced release.

Why, in the name of all things holy, had he never tested his own refraction time before? What a waste of an inquisitive youth.

On the upside Tobirama seemed determined to test that for him. Whatever magic he was working with that tongue of his certainly seemed to be doing a good job of bringing Madara's body back to attention must faster than he would have thought possible. The sensations were so overwhelming he almost missed it when hands began to roam his skin again, just another layer in the sensory overload, but when he did finally notice Madara was glad that he did.

It would have been all too easy to dismiss the touches as no more than aimless pawing at his person, as sensual groping with no purpose other than to arouse. And he might have dismissed them as such but for the tenderness in Tobirama’s face when his husband flicked those pretty red eyes up to meet his own for a single brief moment. Then he understood. Madara closed his own eyes and drew in a breath that shuddered, body shaking, emotions almost as strong as the touches driving him wild – touches that said more than words ever could. He’d known since the two of them finally started getting to know each other that Tobirama had been raised in a world where he learned to speak with his actions rather than his language. And he’d even thought he was coming to understand the way his husband expressed himself but oh how he hadn’t known what he hadn’t known.

No kind gesture of making tea or carrying him to bed when he fell asleep on the couch could ever compare to the messages conveyed in the tender hands tracing every inch of his body like memorizing a masterpiece with touch alone. Every press of those fingers was a declaration of love, every stroke a promise, and each time the touches paused to linger somewhere in particular Madara wished he knew the words being pressed in to his skin like reverent prayers. He would learn this language too if it killed him.

And it might, he decided, if the pleasure continued to mount beyond the bounds of what he could understand. By the time one of those wandering glorious hands slid around to trace the edges of his most intimate place Madara was almost too caught up in the beat of his own heart to notice. He definitely noticed when a little oil was added.

“Hah!”

“Should I slow down?” Tobirama’s voice rumbled from where he was lavishing attention on the line of Madara's oblique muscles.

“N-no! Shut up! Just…that’s not…I didn’t expect…shut up and don’t stop, damn it!”

He ignored the chuckle which meant his partner was laughing at him in favor of biting down on a drawn out moan, entirely engaged with the sensation of a long thing finger sliding inside him for the first time. Suddenly he regretted all the times he had staunchly decided against touching this part of himself and yet somehow at the same time praised himself for holding out. As unprepared as he was for this new wave of sensations he was glad that Tobirama was the one to help him discover them.

Or maybe it was just that he was glad he’d never explored himself like this with anyone he was related to in the same house where they would have surely heard the shameless noises spilling out of him one after another. Even the palm firmly tucked over his mouth couldn’t contain the litany of gasps and moans – and it was only one finger! Madara's eyes fairly rolled in to the back of his head when he felt a second nudging at his entrance.

“Will you even fit?” He didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud – in a very breathy voice – until he felt Tobirama’s weight shifting off the mattress and looked down to see one pale eyebrow lifted in a disgustingly attractive smug expression.

“That’s what the stretching is for, love.”

Madara would have responded if he could string anymore words together but the friction of Tobirama’s fingers sinking inside him and the warm glide of the oil between them stole his attention back much too easily. His eyes snapped open to stare sightlessly at the ceiling with shock when he felt a hot tongue laving at his nipples but, already well past the point of being able to separate the massive tangle of input, it was hard to tell whether he really did like the feeling or if he only did because the rest of his body was so sensitive already. Not that it mattered. He felt good and safe and that was all he cared about.

Three fingers felt almost like too much at first but by that point Tobirama was smart enough to move up and distract him with kisses, for which Madara was grateful. For every inch their bodies that he could feel pressing together he felt grounded, captured in the moment, as though the mere presence of the man he loved was a safety net without which he might actually fly to pieces. His mind did its best to focus on the kisses while his body could do nothing but shake.

When the fingers inside him pulled away Madara shocked himself by almost whining for them to come back and he had to bite down on his lip to stop the flood of questions that tried to spill out, forcing himself to stay quiet and observe as Tobirama leaned away to pick up the bottle of oil he hadn’t seen before. He’d had sex explained to him when puberty hit. And he’d had to sit through it all again when Susumu-sensei caught him asking questions about boys instead of girls. He knew what the oil was for, why Tobirama was pouring out a little more. Unexpected was the muted noise that made Tobirama turn his head away as the tips of his ears turned pink.

“Eager?” Madara couldn’t help but tease in a breathless voice.

“More so than I have ever been before,” his partner admitted. “Your people may have been on to something with the idea that love changes this experience.” Wryness twisted his lips a little but Tobirama shrugged away any shame he might have felt for his words rather easily.

“Are you…”

The way his words trailed off must have made him sound unsure. Tobirama hesitated, pulling his hand away from where he had been spreading it on himself and capping the oil to let it drop to the side of the bed. “Not if you–”

“Kami, stop asking if I’m ready!” If he added enough grumpiness to his voice then maybe it would cover the lingering nerves. He only needed one look to see he hadn’t fooled anyone, that Tobirama could see right through him, and on any other day he would have appreciated that his husband knew him so well.

He didn’t say anything more, though. So that was nice. Much nicer was the kiss hot and deep that kept him centered as Tobirama shuffled his weight around to situate his body a little more comfortably between Madara's legs. When he rocked his hips forward this time it was an aborted motion that brought the head of his cock up to Madara's entrance without pushing inside, almost like a false start to warn of his intentions. And it was, apparently, a good thing that he did since every muscle in Madara's jumped with shock despite the fact that he was more than expecting it.

Tobirama broke their kiss to duck down in to his neck but he caught a flash of amusement before teeth dragging at the lobe of his ear stole the words he was about to say. He was ready the next time, resolutely keeping his muscles loose when he felt the nudge at his entrance, though there was nothing to be done for the heat in his cheeks. The nibbles on his ears turned to soft kisses trailing down his neck as the pressure increased. All the thoughts in his head melted together until all he knew was the push, the pressure, the moment before completion. Then his back was bowing up and his fingers fisting in Tobirama’s hair, eyes wide as he tried to process the sensation of being quite so full.

Only when quiet words murmuring in his ears slowly began to filter through the fog did he realize how laser focused he was on the connection between them. Slowly, gradually, the world came back in little pieces and he listened to Tobirama murmuring small reassurances in a voice that sounded like he was barely holding himself together. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one a little overwhelmed here.

“Move!” he managed to gasp eventually and Tobirama did not need to be told twice.

Curses spilled out of him immediately but the murmuring against his neck never stopped and the sound of his husband’s voice worked amazingly to keep him grounded until he was able to think through waves of pleasure he could hardly believe. But when he was able to think again he wished he could sink back in to that strange space outside of awareness. Of all the possible reactions to finally having everything he’d ever wanted in life – love, a husband, a moment they could come together and celebrate that love – the one reaction he would never have expected from himself was the urge to cry. Madara was tempted to scream at his own body for betraying him like this.

Salvation came in the form of a bitten off groan in his ear and a powerful shudder running through his limbs. Focusing on Tobirama’s pleasure was so much less mortifying than his own. And it came with the added benefit of puffing his chest out with pride because that was his doing. He was the reason Tobirama’s infamous self-control was cracking.

A little taste of that power left him craving for more, unsurprisingly. Madara wracked his distracted wrung-out brain for a way to drive his husband as close to the edge as he already was again and when an idea came to him he gave himself no time to think it through, turning his head to pant his words against the sweaty skin of Tobirama’s temple. Or he tried to, at least, most of his words broken and interrupted as he writhed under the feeling of being filled over and over in a steady rhythm.

“Feels g- you feel good! Shit you- ah! There!” The mortification that burned through him at being so vocal was made entirely worth it when Tobirama let out an unfettered noise that could only be described as desperate, spurring him on. “I love you.”

“Nnnnh! Anata, stop.” Incredibly, Tobirama’s voice came out as a whine.

“You d-don’t – haaah! – like my words?”

He did not expect Tobirama to bite at his ear again and confess in a low rush, “I like them too much, you minx.”

Yet another steady rocking of pale hips and Madara saw stars behind the fluttering of his eyelids. He wanted to say that sex wasn’t anything close to how he imagined it, so much better than the shades of minor pleasure he was able to give to himself under the covers alone, but his lungs constricted around the words and his tongue was busy crying out against pale skin where he buried his face in a strong shoulder. Sex was nothing like he could have known. Making love, he corrected himself distantly. They were making love.

It even felt like love, something he had quietly hoped for when he was young with stars in his eyes and then later mournfully rejected as romanticism as his bodily urges towards Tobirama grew more and more animalistic. He did feel like an animal, his body rolling and thrashing in his efforts to ride the hot intrusion sliding in and out, but it also felt like love in the way Tobirama surrounded him on all sides and pressed against him with as much skin as possible. Pale fingers stroking his hair. Warm lips murmuring promises in to his skin. This was base lust but it was also love and the combination made his gut twist in a way he most certainly recognized.

Someday he might achieve the same level of shamelessness as the man above him but in the state he was now there was not a force on earth that could help him find the words to warn his husband of the tension building at an unstoppable rate. Try as he might he just couldn’t force himself to say it, settling instead for pulling Tobirama up in to a frantic kiss, biting and licking in a frantic way that startled them both. He wanted to say something, though he had no idea where the urge was coming from. If he opened his mouth with so much frazzled energy hummed underneath his skin he was sure all that spilled out would be an endless litany of babble and nonsense – or worse, confessions of all the depraved imaginings he’d constructed in his mind and every way Tobirama had blown his expectations out of the water.

“Anata,” Tobirama’s voice brushed against his ear, husky and irresistible. “Say something else.”

“You- you told me – nnh – to stop!”

“Changed my mind. Shit, just, Madara.” He’d never heard his name in such a debauched way and Madara found he couldn’t be bothered to rationalize his husband’s change of heart. All he could do was give the man what he asked for no matter that he’d just decided it was a terrible idea. In that tone he would give Tobirama what he wanted.

“I love you,” he blurted, the first words that came to mind.

The shattered sound his husband made might have been enough to send him over the edge on its own, though they would have to lay together again for him to figure that out. With a particularly harsh snap of his hips Tobirama drove deep and hit something inside of Madara that made his vision go white and the coil inside of him snapped so hard he echoed his partner’s scream.

No orgasm had ever felt like this one. Spilling over his own fist after hurriedly palming himself under the covers was nothing like this. This was lights behind his eyes and muscles contracting, knuckles as white as the hair they gripped and throat raw with the force of expressing himself. Nothing existed outside the solidity of the man in his arms and the thickness of the length still grinding inside him as though determined to make him lose his mind entirely. Unlike the quick burst of pleasure he was used to this was an arched spine he couldn’t seem to unbend and stickiness between their bellies that he could never have caught in his fist like usual. Several minutes passed before he could hear past the ringing in his ear, the rest of the world fading back in to focus as well.

An exhausted, loopy sort of grin spread across his face when he finally heard the way Tobirama was murmuring under his breath, probably entirely unaware he was doing so judging by the soppy romantic nonsense he was spouting. They had made love. If he had a little more energy he might have been tempted to go shout that from the rooftops and rub it in his brother’s face. It might have taken them a few months extra to get there but they had finally – happily – consummated their marriage. This really was the rest of their lives.

Now he was exhausted and cramped and his belly was a little gross. The aftermath of sex wasn’t quite as romantic as he pictured it to be. Lazy open-mouthed kisses began traveled up his neck, down the line of his chin, and as they reached his own lips Madara thought that he could not possibly care less for the supposed reality of the situation, not when Tobirama seemed determined to keep holding him close and kiss the breath right out of him.

“You’re heavy,” he grunted finally, half-heartedly pushing at one shoulder of the body flopped over his own. Then he muffled a protesting whine as Tobirama fairly shot upright.

“Are you uncomfortable?” Without even waiting for an answer his hands were stroking wherever they could reach in what Madara had to admit was quite a soothing manner. Unnecessary but soothing all the same. He had a feeling that his side and chest were not where he was going to be sore later.

“Not used to holding my legs open this wide for this long.” Saying so brought the red back to his cheeks and he cursed it. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long for the ingrained shame of these activities to fade.

Tobirama blinked and looked down at the place where their bodies joined with one eyebrow raised, prompting Madara to cover his eyes with one hand. He didn’t need to look there! The hand stayed until he felt cool lips pressing a kiss against the back of his fingers and a voice warning him that his partner was about to pull away. He wondered for a moment why he might need warning, it was basically the same motion they been doing together for the last several minutes, he didn’t see why it should be any different now. Then Tobirama slowly began to pull away and it stole a sharp cry from him before he bit down on his lower lip to cut it off.

Okay. The warning was necessary. He really hadn’t anticipated how sensitive that area would be now.

It made sense when he thought about it. His intimate parts were usually quite sensitive to the drag of cotton as he pulled his clothing back in to place after relieving a bit of tension. But how was he supposed to know that there could be quite that sensitive? He opened his mouth to ask – then shut it again and wondered if sex brain was always going to trick him in to asking stupid questions.

Letting his husband clean him was somehow even more mortifying than anything else had been but all it took was one pointed look and Tobirama asking if he wanted to do it himself for Madara to subside, hand back over his eyes so he wouldn’t have to watch. His good behavior was rewarded with more kisses against random patches of skin until as much of the oil had been wiped away as possible and the blankets they’d made a mess of had been straightened around them. When Tobirama crawled in to bed he only made it partway across the mattress before freezing in a rather comical four-legged stance as he caught sight of Madara's expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re…not going to get dressed?”

“I hadn’t planned to.” Sitting back on his haunches was no less comical looking, though he didn’t seem to care. “Does that make you uncomfortable? I can if you’d like me to.”

Madara glared at him. Even after everything they’d just done he was still being sweet and considerate. Unbearable. “It’s fine! Everything’s fine! Just get in the bed!”

They had just been rubbing all against each other quite intimately, after all. It really shouldn’t bother him to stay naked if all they were doing was falling asleep. As his husband crawled in Madara tried not to picture getting called out of bed for some emergency that had him booking it through the streets with his bits swinging in the breeze. Somehow, he wasn’t sure how, he just knew it would be one of their brothers’ fault.

His suspicious musings were cut short by warm fingers brushing down the back of his arm. He looked round to find Tobirama smiling up at him from the pillows, arms opened in an invitation he was all too happy to accept. Burrowing in to that pale chest and breathing in the scent of sweat and love-making was much preferable to imagining catastrophes that hadn’t happened. Yet. He very nearly purred when he felt the hands on his waist dig in to slowly scratch up and down the length of his back in absent circles, a most excellent distraction no matter what stupidity was clogging up his brain.

“Will you say it one more time?”

“Hm?” Already the fog of lassitude had begun to fall over him and Madara had to fight his way through it to figure out what that meant, responding in a quieter voice. “Oh. I love you.” He hummed contentedly when the arms around him tightened.

“I love you too, Madara.”

With all his heart he believed that. It was the single most freeing assurance he had ever experienced in his life and as he lay there in their home, in their marriage bed, he wondered if he would change anything about their journey given the chance. Then he snorted very gently and determinedly settled in for a quick nap before the rest of the world came to bother them as he knew it would. What use was there in wondering about the past with such a wonderful future ahead of them?

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #kagami #fanfiction #me?? posting at 4 in the morning??#it's more likely than you think #and by likely i mean please pray for my soul #as i attempt to flip my sleep schedule back to nights again #T_T

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ohayohimawari · 5 years ago

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Kakashi Asks-Answer

Q: (From @thetoxicstrawberry) What are your thoughts on Sukea? Do you think this disguise existed prior to him messing with Team 7?

A: I know that you and I have congratulated each other on having the same brain before Berry, and this is another of those priceless occasions, haha! I’ve been hoping that someone would ask me about Sukea so that I could have an excuse opportunity to geek all over my favorite ninja dork’s alter ego. Thank you for reading my thoughts (your thoughts? Our thoughts?)!

*Cracks knuckles* My study of the development of Kakashi’s photogenic photographer not-so-secret identity starts below the cut.

It’s a beautiful coincidence that I answer this question so close to my first anniversary as an outed writer in the Naruto fanfiction community. I wrote my headcanon of the origin of Sukea in my very first (and very naughty) fic! Seriously, I can forgive Kishi for almost everything simply because he removed the mask from my favorite character and put a camera in his hands (for those that don’t know, I’m a photographer).

In my story Supplemental Training, I portray Kakashi just as I imagine him when he’s nearing the end of his ANBU career. While he claims to be a man of many hobbies, he is first and foremost a ninja. He goes to sleep and wakes up a shinobi. His ability to form plans and strategies makes him both a powerful ally and a formidable enemy, but beyond the scope of missions, I don’t believe him to be an especially imaginative person. At the very least, I mean to say that he doesn’t put much stock in his own latent creative ability, and that prevents him from attempting such. Further, at that stage in his life and career, Kakashi is wound tighter than a two-dollar watch.

In my fic, he is reluctantly thrust into a situation that he is suspicious of, and is determined to control. He plays along with another character when she asks what he would like to call her, and Kakashi dubs her with a name that is obvious and unimaginative. She, in turn, christens him with a name that is equally obvious and unimaginative: Sukea.

(Side note: sukea is the Japanese pronunciation of the English word scare. Kakashi means scarecrow in Japanese, so, his alter ego’s name is a play on his own.)

In the story, Kakashi accepts the offered moniker, and it’s not long before he realizes that he stands to gain new skills if he manages to successfully navigate his situation. I’d written that my quick-thinking bean likens this experience to being an actor that is assuming a role. In scrambling for a costume, he tugs his mask down; effectively removing the face that most have come to recognize as his. Then, he’s nervous af.

This leads to the pivotal moment of my story, and in the creation of Sukea. Konoha’s prodigy, for all of his brilliance, doesn’t shine in the social interactions arena. Kakashi, bless his heart, wants so badly to be in control of the situation. However, it’s only when he lets himself go in favor of becoming Sukea, that he finally does gain control of it.

Near the end of my story, I write that Kakashi considers, “… what he had gained, who he had escaped, what he had beaten back, and who he became.” It’s from this moment on that I believe Sukea is an important part of this character’s life.

This transition doesn’t have to play out the way I’d written it in that fic, but I think Kakashi would have to be pushed into stepping outside of himself. We don’t see him assuming different identities in his career. He’s not a role-playing kind of dude in his downtime. He lives in a mask and wears an additional one when he clocks in for his shifts. He insulates himself during missions and isolates himself between them. I sometimes wonder if, by this stage in his life, he’d hidden his identity so well that Kakashi had lost sight of himself.

So, the experience of being Sukea-however it comes about and for whatever reason-would be something between refreshing and liberating for the Copy Nin.

Now I’m going to pull a Kishi tactic and employ a time jump with minimal backstory. A couple of years go by in which bad things happen to the Uchiha clan, Konoha adopts yet another orphan, and Kakashi is released from ANBU.

I imagine that this is one of the most difficult stages of Kakashi’s life. Nothing could be more unsettling for this dork than idleness after the familiar, strict, comfortable routine of the decade he spent in ANBU. I honestly think Kakashi wouldn’t know what to do with himself in the years between Black Ops and Team Seven. As a result, he begins to have a greater appreciation of Gai and his challenges. Also, this is when Kakashi would flesh out his secret identity as Sukea.

Because escapism.

Kakashi can’t stand himself in the years between Team Minato and Team Seven, and after he’s out of ANBU, he’s got too much time on his hands to ruminate on it.

There’s no way in hell that he would just wake up one day and decide to skip along the streets of Konoha without his mask on though. Kakashi would approach this consciously and meticulously. It helps to occupy the extra time. It postpones the moment between deciding to go out as Sukea and actually doing it. He would need time to prepare for this, mentally and physically.

There’s more to my headcanon than loathing himself though. The Third Hokage decided that this traumatized soldier was grade A teacher material, and Kakashi takes his orders seriously. While I don’t think he would view his eccentric nature as odd, I think he would be aware that he is socially awkward (at least, he would be aware that he feels awkward in social situations). I think he would strive to improve at this, if only for the sake of being a sensei.

This is why Sukea is a photographer.

Being a photographer is similar to being a fly on the wall. In order to capture candid moments or gather pictorial evidence, a photographer needs to melt into the background. Kakashi, being a ninja, would know how to succeed at that. He’d come to terms with the fact that the mask that hides his face makes him stand out. He’d know to cover his luscious, outrageous silver cowlicks, his famous scar and borrowed eye.

I can almost hear a couple of you piping up in the back asking, “But Hima, he’s a ninja! He can just don a henge!” The answer to that is no, unfortunately. As long as that sharingan is in Kakashi’s eye socket, that shit never shuts off. Even though he’s wearing a contact lens, as long as both of his eyes are open, it’s a constant drain on this poor knucklehead’s chakra reserve. Also? I think he doesn’t want to.

Choosing photography as Sukea’s schtick was brilliant. Photographers are expected to focus on their subjects, affording Kakashi plenty of time and opportunity to study others. He would definitely learn a great deal about people this way. Relationships and their dynamics are captured by his lens. He gains some new social skills by watching and catches up on the lives of the folks of the Hidden Leaf at the same time. One of his many hobbies is born. The best photographers are careful in their observations, quick in their actions, and Kakashi is already carrying those tools around in his fanny pack.

Unrelated, but, only Kakashi could make a fanny pack look asjkfsd hot. Another trivial detail, but you know how I love those: I’m thinking of one of Berry’s delightful headcanons about his mask and drawing from it now in my imagination. I wonder if Sukea carries Kakashi’s mask in his coat pocket the first few times he goes out in public.

Whether he does or not, after a few field trips around Konoha, I think Kakashi would genuinely enjoy stepping out as Sukea. He would have to if he’s still doing it during his sensei days, and again in the next-gen era.

He delights in trolling Team Seven, that’s for sure. Sukea is his own private joke, and who among us tires of laughing at our own jokes? Kakashi’s no different, and that’s why we catch him smirking at his reflection when we finally got to see the goods in that special manga chapter and anime episode. It felt so good to have my anime crush validated, btw.

Every time Kakashi drifts undetected around the Leaf Village, there is one other jōnin that Sukea’s camera avoids. As much as he enjoys his joke, he wouldn’t push his luck when it comes to the possibility of Maito Gai recognizing him. I think it speaks volumes about their friendship when we see Sukea sweating it out as Gai’s eyebrows invade his personal space and he stares the other man down. I’m convinced that this is how Kakashi learns his eternal rival is hopelessly face blind, but that’s a headcanon for another day.

Sukea is still stalking the inhabitants of the Hidden Leaf when Boruto’s generation of ninja are preparing to graduate. However, we see Kakashi tugging his mask back up and pulling the wig off, transitioning in front of Iruka. In so doing, he proves how much he’s grown throughout his life. I imagine that being Sukea had a lot to do with that.

This alter ego of Kakashi’s-like so much about him-is enigmatic. It seems to me that he’s revealing himself rather than hiding himself; giving others a chance to get to know him underneath the underneath. The person aside from the elite ninja that he is.

I said earlier that I wondered if Kakashi had hidden his identity so well, that he had lost sight of himself. I like to think that in being Sukea, Kakashi reconnected with himself.

XOXO

#kakashi asks #ohayohimawari answer #Kakashi #Kakashi Hatake #Character Study #sukea #Berry asks

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consciousconscience1011 · 5 years ago

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Conscious Conscience

Friday 12th July 2019 To whom it may concern: I enclose a copy of a letter I sent to EVA services, the first minister Nicola Sturgeon, the Navigator Service and Mayim Bialik beginning in October 2017. This follows my own journey through abuse and PTSD, however my focus has been continual reflection on my experiences, in an effort to personally bring about some fundamental societal change. However I believe it is of the utmost importance that this is brought to your attention if social justice is to be maintained, not merely on a national but a global capacity by all individuals and organizations. All inequalities and abuse threaten the very fundamental fabric of any civilized society. Please bare with me in reading my lengthy personal opinions and recommendations. I will now go on to document my previous ongoing correspondence as I feel very strongly and passionately that we all have a humanitarian duty to instigate change no matter how small that may be. IT IS TIME TO ASK YOURSELF – WHAT CAN I CONTRIBUTE TO CHANGE! 1st Letter Written on 9th of October 2017 Dear Nicola, Mayim Bialik & #MeToo & Navigators. I Hope you don’t mind me writing to you, I realize how hectic your daily schedule must be. However, I believe it is of the utmost importance that this is brought to your attention if social justice is to be maintained. Clearly past legislature from other political bodies has failed to learn any valuable lessons nor disseminate any useful knowledge gained between all concerned relevant bodies and has therefore negated to protect society as a whole. This is evident on a daily basis, with cases of the abuse of trust and power coming to light in many instances after decades and decades of historical abuse. I am currently a staff nurse with 15 years of experience in the acute setting mainly trauma and head injuries as well as general medicine. Since 2010, I have experienced 3 nervous breakdowns which I had attributed to severe anxiety and depression. This current episode has finally enabled me to clearly see and understand the root cause of my problems. EVA Services in Coatshill hospital has been an invaluable source of support to me in dealingwith my PTSD. Jane’s knowledge and skills have been paramount for me to be able to identify psychological and behavioural coping mechanisms I have unknowingly adopted for the past 40 years. EVA has a dedicated psychological counselling service which provides a timely additional resource if required in house. A very important factor given the great sensitivity of these cases, not to mention the severity of PTSD symptoms and the grave adverse effects this has on the individual and society as a whole. As I am a nurse, I am fully aware of the value of reflection on practice to avoid a task orientated approach which is very often ineffective and depletes reserves of limited resources. I have been informed by Jane that the EVA Service is being made defunct from November, a great travesty, as this service plays a vital role in being an educational advocate for people experiencing these distressing circumstances as a direct result of exploitation, violence or abuse. I have recently listened to the actress Mayim Bialik’s podcast relating to the ongoing proliferation of these incidents. I have concluded that for more than 40 years +, we as a society have and continue to neglect our duty of care to each other and ourselves. My own experiences have only highlighted the many factors that come in to play which enables these situations to be effectively carried out time and time again. Despite the efforts made to prevent re-occurrence. It is highly evident that a different approach requires to be taken if we are to effectively learn from past experiences. The Scottish Government has worked intensely to rectify many of the unjust imbalances of power within society as a whole, despite continued monetary constraints from the Westminster allocated budget e.g. NHS prescriptions, care charges, tuition fees and investment in society which will benefit everyone living in Scotland. The commitment to the future of our young people is unquestionable, a new passion and fervor for change was clearly evident throughout the approach to the independence referendum. Indeed, I have been fortunate to have personally witnessed the impact that the new Navigator service has had directing many individuals (who had been existing in chaotic lifestyles) towards life choices which they believed were previously unobtainable to them. The recent #MeToo movement only emphasizes the continued prevalence of this phenomenon within the global community as a whole. Periodic examinations and debate will continue to occur as they have done before, whenever the occasion arises. More funding will be “Squandered” focusing only on trying to mitigate the devastating effects these experiences have on both individuals and society. The fragmentation of community and the eagerness of many to exist and experience life through an increasingly virtual reality, only serves to isolate and divide human beings physically and socially. In effect the world will continue to voice condemnation and disgust when the need arises. In short shutting the stable after the horse has bolted. My experiences, (through extensive reflection), have only made me more aware of how ignorant we truly are regarding these matters, this ignorance only serves to perpetuate the manipulation, disempowerment and abuse of others, whilst providing warped justification for the behavior of many through victim blaming. Our refusal to accept the inherent flaws within every individual human being, which given the correct circumstances, will manifest in the abuse of the vulnerability of others. The World Health Organization’s definition of health details the areas which have the power to influence the individual’s health and beliefs and in turn their behavior for better or worse, “a state of complete physical, mental and social wellbeing and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity” (WHO, 1948). It can therefore be asserted that educational, economical, physiological, cultural, spiritual, environmental, social, political and psychological circumstances/perceptions will shape the individual’s viewpoint and their reality at any given moment. Perhaps justification for their choice of behavior at that given point. However, it is imperative that there is an appreciation and acknowledgement of the dynamic nature of being able to justify our choices. The acquisition of ongoing knowledge enables people to make a more informed choice regarding the consequences of a particular behavior in comparison to previous misconceptions. The EVA service had been funded by lottery cash, the people involved within this organization have a wealth of knowledge and expertise gained through counselling and dealing with many people devastated by violence and abuse. The Navigator Service has been quite rightly extended to other areas due to the success they have had guiding people away from a life of violence/crime and addiction. Yet stopping the EVA service will prevent many victims of crime/abuse from continuing to be active functional members of society through no fault of their own. Many will have to endure a very lengthy period trying to deal with the symptoms of PTSD whilst waiting for mainstream psychological input. There should be permanent dedicated Navigator and EVA services addressing both ends of the spectrum perpetrators and victims only then can be appreciate the factors which manage to manipulate/shape behaviors and identify the factors which serve to explain/excuse these behaviors. Until we do educate society this will sadly continue to occur. Far from stopping funding for the EVA service, both should work in conjunction with each other to learn invaluable lessons so that our claim as a “civilized society can in fact be justifiably extolled globally”. Both services should be intrinsic within schools and community centers, to instill valuable lessons and knowledge into the heart of society, this is the only option to ensure change in perceptions because only this change can protect all of our sons and daughters from exploitation of their vulnerability and naivety, manipulating them into perpetrators or enabling them to become victims i.e. train the horses while they are still in the stable. I can only relate my theoretical knowledge gained as a nurse to these types of experiences, in an effort to perhaps make some valid recommendations which might hopefully instigate a small foundation of societal change. Being in a position to personally evaluate what assists or what hinders someone living through this type of phenomenon. Rather than focusing on the who, what , when and where of my experiences, instead assessing what enables these types of situations to be repeatedly carried out. Hopefully learning valuable lessons which can shape our understanding of how to thwart the levels of re-occurrence in the future. Worth Further Research/Questioning More of My Personal Thoughts For instance, MASLOWS hierarchy of needs, the main goal being self-actualization which results in being able to harmoniously exist and satisfactorily function within society, with a high level of self-esteem, perception, health and well-being. However, being able to attain this goal relies on many factors, many of which are out with the individual’s control. For example, Roper, Logan and Tierney’s theoretical framework comes to mind, whatever position the person is placed in the lifespan, or dependence/ independence continuum will determine how effectively they are able to maintain and satisfy their activities of daily living adequately. Again economical, political, educational, psychological, social, physical, spiritual and environmental circumstance will all impinge upon life choices available to each individual. It is too simplistic to assume that deprivation in any sphere will result in negative behaviour. The persons sense of self-worth or contentment with their level of self-actualization, (or lack), will inevitably shape their behavior for good or bad, in the quest for additional power. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is another fascinating concept which explains how traumatic experiences can be stored on an emotional level, in the subconscious (primitive brain) having bypassed the evolved rational part of the brain responsible for executive functioning, because of this there is no associative narrative nor descriptive memory of the incident, only the feelings associated with the trauma. In effect the individual dissociates. Other examples of this are being hypnotized, when dissociated, the person can walk talk and physically follow instructions, but has no memory narrative of the experiences occurring. The same can be seen in hypnotherapy. The power of suggestion works in the same way, one only needs to look at the influence of the media on public perceptions and behavior. In addition, how much revenue does advertising (developed by psychologists) accumulate? Surely you can’t make someone do something they don’t want to ? Well how does that work with treating phobias – enabling through suggestion, within a short period of time, the person to conquer their greatest long held fears. Many phobias are very often of an inexplicable cause to the person affected. Perhaps they developed in early childhood prior to the child’s executive functioning part of the brain being mature enough to rationalize a narrative, as the language centre of the brain had still to learn how to verbalize. Or when speech had sufficiently developed was there an episode of distress/trauma whereby the child had dissociated. Interestingly many young children speak in the 3rd party a trait of an adult dissociating. Therefore, we should all be aware that there is in fact a widely known scientific based rationale why on individual may have no awareness/recollection of events they have experienced on a succession of episodes due to dissociation. Perhaps before they are judged, or victim blamed this fact should be taken into consideration. Given the number of cases which have been highlighted throughout the decades and the total amount of people involved, we cannot continue to classify perpetrators as highly unusual/strange monsters, these are in fact anyone given the right circumstances or indoctrination. That being the case why does society allow its youth to be indoctrinated into believing displaying this type of behavior is acceptable? Why can someone work within trauma receiving without understanding the concept of dissociation related to “PTSD”? Why are high school pupils not forewarned educated about being aware of when they might be or friends of theirs might be in the process of being manipulated into a particular way of thinking? And why don’t they have an intrinsic support network they can consult for advice ? EVA? Navigators? The consequences of choosing to exploit, violate or abuse another individual should be regularly made known through rehabilitated offenders. The devastation caused to victims and their families should be graphically discussed regularly. An empathy for the welfare of others should be nurtured through a humanistic approach. The EVA service, Navigators, Rape crisis and Moira Anderson Foundation should be extended internationally/globally! Maybe its time society put its money where its mouth is and donated funds to ensure the infinite viability and growth of these services. If not, society should hang its head in shame on a regular basis when these devastating experiences continue to occur. Dr Elaine Carr and Jane are passionate about the work that they do to the extent if Jane had won the lottery she said she would endeavor to find a suitable building to rent and try and continue to operate the service from there. Jane is now to be redeployed into an IT Post!!! Gender stereotyping needs to be challenged. People who have benefitted from the input of these invaluable services should be used as positive role models to educate young people PRIOR to them finding themselves faced with the decision of how they would behave, empowering them to make, hopefully the correct justifiable choice before it is too late. Please give generously to these invaluable services in order to prevent what happened to previous generations continue to happen to those you love and care about. Leave that as OUR LEGACY Focus on a holistic approach. Without acting to change perceptions we FAIL ourselves and every other human being in the PAST PRESENT and FUTURE. We will all merely serve to satisfy and encourage the salivation of the grapevine in our complicity and inaction to protect the vulnerability of others. The proliferation of this phenomena is happening and will continue to occur in our refusal to acknowledge the FLAWED nature of the human psyche. We can therefore continue to focus on gender stereotypes which can only perpetuate sadly division and victim blaming in effect re-enforce these negative false beliefs and stereotypes. The masculinity or femininity of the individuals involved should not be held as the focus of why these instances occur. Indoctrination of the developing psyches vulnerability shapes the individual’s belief system and serves for them to justify their decision-making process. People cannot be educated unless it is through a holistic perception acknowledging their lived existence and the factors which influence it. However, the implementation of these services, at the earliest developmental stage for children would provide a foundation which would nurture empathy and understanding of the gross inequalities within society. Highlighting the consequence of actions fosters foresight. Education enables informed decision making and the Navigator emphasizes the individual’s power to enhance their circumstances by guiding them to available resources which can only optimize theirs and in affect others quality of living. Social inclusion should appreciate diversity and multi-culturalism, the encouragement of displaying ( and acting upon) concern for our fellow human beings should be nurtured at an early age. Peer pressure should be used to condemn/educate young people that no matter how small, it is never justifiable to abuse/violate the vulnerability of others in attempt to gain “power”. Materialism should be substituted by humanism. Group norms should be encouraged to question, reverse and stand up to inequalities. Only then can every individual truly empower themselves in their journey to self-actualization irrespective of circumstances they may live in. A worthy sense of self is all that can create self-satisfaction prevent victimization and create a civilized just, human society for all to enjoy. NHS Lanarkshire Ending Violence and Abuse (EVA) services commissioned a Scottish company, media co-op.net to develop an animation to explain to professionals!!! The impact trauma experiences have on the brain and how this affects memory. This company specializes in social and health messages. They quite rightly won the Royal Television Society Scotland Animation Award 2016 and also the Herald Digital Award 2016. Why is this animation not globally promoted regularly in the media? Why have we neglected to incorporate these services to instill this factual information throughout every educational facility to ensure all children are aware of the natural psychological and physiological human response to trauma and abuse? As a society we have failed to inform and educate our children and teenagers. We have left them unprepared to make an informed choice regarding whether a certain behavior would be justifiable or not, nor have we emphasized the dire consequences of such actions or traumatic events upon those who enact or experience this phenomenon. It is highly important that victims have a solid established support network available to help them deal with the aftermath of current/historic abuse. A new service has been conceptualized by NHS Lanarkshire named Gender Based Violence (GBV). This is a much-needed service given the abuse and gender inequalities within society. A major problem affecting many. HOWEVER, this should not be at the expense of losing the EVA Service. Exploitation, violence and abuse does not occur merely as a result of gender inequalities. As can be seen in recent news we can NO LONGER only concentrate on dealing with the aftermath of these situations when they arise or come to light. Always after analysis, close scrutiny and resulting in widespread anger and condemnation and ? Ongoing disbelief!! Every human being at some point in their lives has contributed to maintaining this paradigm, weather consciously or subconsciously. We have and continued to unwittingly ignore the root causes which aid and abet these situations. Given the complexities involved this has to concentrate throughout the ongoing developmental stages of each individual human psyche, irrespective of any other factors. Cultural perceptions and social norms can only be changed by influencing and educating on a subconscious level. The only way to achieve this to ensure that these services are implemented, or we continue to allow others to easily access and negatively indoctrinate our children’s limbic and reptilian primitive brains into actions or decisions they may regret forever. ANYONE who has a shred of humanitarian value has a duty to ensure a basic foundation of knowledge and education is provided within our culture for our children and in effect all future adults. Jane can be contacted : EVA Psychological Services She at the moment has been redeployed to an IT Post. Assist her to achieve her passionate ambition to save and protect the future of this service not only for her but for us, our children and all our future generations. Thank You Continuation of previous further correspondence to Nicola Sturgeon, Mayim Bialik & #MeToo. I thought I would send you a further instalment of my personal views on why abuse is rife and continues throughout history! Linking my experiences and any theoretical ideas about WHAT HAS TO CHANGE if this is to stop. We continue to concentrate on each individual case separately, a lot more could be learned by combining everything together to come to relevant conclusions. This is the only way to educate ourselves if we are honest then we could see that initially people are manipulated in a certain mindset until they are mature enough to oppose these beliefs as being wrong. Until that pint the belief system is based on stereotypes, scapegoats, prejudice and discrimination. The EVA service, Navigators, rape crisis and Moira Anderson Foundation should all work in liaison disseminating these findings which are needed to help shape ALL of societies knowledge and education. These types of abuse are evident in every sphere of society. There are NO differentiations irrespective of education, cultural, monetary or spiritual circumstances of victims or perpetrators. This abuse occurs in every society/institution or groups where people amass, it is impossible for teenagers or children to share the same just viewpoint of adults, if everybody thought back to their developmental years, they can acknowledge the extreme difference in their personal perceptions. Yet we expect that as we become more mature our choices and beliefs will “naturally” become more just and wiser. This can only happen through lived experience and knowledge. Teenagers are not in a position to acquire lived experience nor have they accumulated the knowledge required which would change their belief system until they are much older. This is why it is imperative to educate the formation of the developing psyche at the earliest opportunity in every case. That way all inequalities in society could be addressed and would prevent the normalization of cruel behavior towards others. It would also foster personal responsibility in regard to life choices and perhaps reduce levels of suicide. Thank You Continued thoughts and ideas thought provoking issues for International Women’s Day! There are many circumstances/factors which serve to question the validity of what victims describe and whether this is deemed absurd or the truth by others. This, due to a lack of education/knowledge leads to the inevitability that there is extreme difficulty in believing what happened to the victim being possible. Isn’t it strange that the ongoing victims’ cases which are brought to light share many questionable discrepancies? The people very often appear to have been living a relatively “normal” life for long periods of time between/during the incidents occurring and them actually becoming aware of the abuse at all. Disturbing flashbacks are triggered. The individual has NO logical context in which to place these experiences, there appears to be NO narrative/ explanations to justify them occurring at all. There Is NO relevant circumstances surrounding why the situation should in any way have naturally arisen or progressed. The persons memory remains fragmented they are unable to remember many factors surrounding the images adequately, no matter how hard they try. They experience ongoing anxiety, an extremely heightened startle response they exist day to day in a hyper-alert state. They begin to isolate themselves, stop socializing and become increasingly distrustful of others. Post traumatic stress disorder and dissociation have been theoretically proven to explain all of the above. Just world theory, poor attachment and an inability to self soothe make it more probable that the person will go on to develop ongoing episodes of dissociation as a coping mechanism to their traumatic experiences. Whilst they find it natural to empathize with the plight of others and view it as their responsibility to help and care for people, they have learned through experience that NO ONE is obligated to meet their own needs. They might develop a type of self-preservation, viewing themselves as being strong enough to tackle whatever may be required at any given moment for themselves or others needs. At the same time, they have developed the ability to remain emotionally numb, a barrier prevents them from having to deal with the aftermath of emotions brought about by poor treatment by others. Never having given any consideration to their needs being met or acknowledged makes it difficult to identify choices or preferences or any defined lack of fulfillment. The person may have difficulty prioritizing or making a subjective choice. The accumulation of possessions can lead to hoarding as a coping mechanism. This only complicates matters by creating a chaotic environment, impossible to manage or organize, this goes on to feed feelings of worthlessness and low self-esteem and perpetuates the cycle. So, it can be concluded that ALL human beings have an inherent physiological and psychological safety mechanism, which effectively if traumatized enough will trip the full system into shutdown of the consciousness and only let the subconscious experience this and future disturbing and emotive experiences. In so doing attempting to protect the conscious realization that these disturbing experiences have ever taken place. Its about time that psychologists, neurologists, sociologists, the medical and healthcare professions, educationalists, and all governmental bodies NETWORK and communicate their research findings related to this phenomenon in order to pool the collective individually disseminated rationales. Each of these spheres when brought together can scientifically prove that anyone having experienced these types of experiences would indeed display these bizarre types of responses. THERE ARE MANY QUESTIONS UNANSWERED The human race has developed its knowledge base throughout time and evolution, resulting in an extremely broad and diverse foundation of educational knowledge. This has resulted in growth and expansion of the cerebral hemispheres ( executive functioning, decision making). It can be deduced that the primitive limbic system is the origin of the safety shutdown mechanism. Therefore, this has always been the case since the inception of people’s brains. It is absurd to think that when primitive people experienced extreme traumatic events and this mechanism triggered that NO ONE within the vicinity would learn that it affected the ability of the traumatized individual to recount their experiences or that none of their adversaries would capitalize on this human vulnerability for their own ends. Maybe NO ONE has noticed yet! Research – primitive brain, anatomy and function of the limbic system, neurological changes in the brain – anxiety, depression, trauma, cerebral anatomy & function -> executive functioning memory –dissociation – PTSD – familiarity + emotions ie Attachment ? provides context has this knowledge only had exclusivity to certain individuals or groups throughout the ages, initially this would give power to a mainly paternalistic society ( hmmm ! ) Given society’s indoctrinated acceptable gender stereotypes which are still encouraged globally: i.e. – nice girls and what denotes bad girls/boys. Trauma and abuse very often result in the development of PTSD. The dissociative characteristics of the limbic system enable the person to have these traumatic experiences without conscious knowledge or recollection. That being the case this means whether the victim was Mother Theresa or Mary Magdalene initially the outcome would be the same and the person would remain oblivious – in effect the individual does not require to be completely incapacitated by drugs/sedatives each time. Perhaps society needs to acknowledge that the subconscious has never been related to being literally unconscious. Therefore, being outside of conscious awareness, without occurring with any plausible naturally occurring context/relationship, the individual is carrying out behavior in an automatron capacity which invalidates any consensual agreement. Therefore, seeing can never be deemed believing. All of these factors give false credence to any claims that these experiences “were between consenting individuals/groups despite any appearances to the contrary. So this means “Good girls” have no control of being manipulated into stereotypical bad girls with no subjective awareness/narrative. This means one individuals’ actions/reputation has always been able to be artificially manufactured/shaped and directed outwith the conscious control of that person. The initiation and perpetuation of gender stereotypes enables society to excuse abuse and in effect try to justify the actions of many through the ages through pathetic victim blaming. The legal system needs changed! Why is reputation a relevant factor to character? This makes the individuals reputation irrelevant to the facts of the situation occurring as claimed, no matter any apparent absurdity. The judicial system, society, the media, educational facilities in fact every sphere imaginable has upheld these false mythical beliefs and stereotypes. Salivating whilst falsely condemning others. IT makes you question exactly WHAT was previously passed from fathers to sons; during the birds and the bees talk! Phrases like “boys will be boys” or “boys can’t help themselves” etc. “sowing your wild oats”, “Gagging for it”. The Presidents Club fiasco shows ALL of the concepts of previous brain washing being displayed openly. WHY would it detail a pre-selected dress code down to “Heels matching black panties”? WHAT about all of the men only organizations/establishments who continue to oppose female membership – WONDER WHY?! Perhaps if the girls had been wearing nuns habits it would have been more difficult for members of this club to excuse their behavior as “boys being boys” not being able to help themselves as these “Bad girls were tempting them with their provocative dress, (stereotypical beliefs have often come in handy). For e.g. “Offered on a plate and gagging for it” I am sure cropped up a lot in family conversations following media speculation. The truth is maintaining these stereotypes has allowed the truth to be hidden in plain sight for many decades. It perhaps explains many fathers’ anxieties when raising a teenage daughter. It is also more understandable why previous generations required a “Courting Couple” to be chaperoned by the girl’s family. I’m sure many of the members of the president’s clubs’ partners have defended their men from the behavior of these “Loose Women”. Perhaps the dress code was requested so the men could really test their upstanding resolve! Whilst these facts can all be scientifically substantiated, they alone should not be believed to be true in every case. However, what this knowledge should allow is victims to be able to present their experiences without being victimized, labelled, stereotyped, prejudged and discriminated against, every time an allegation is made. Instead disseminating this knowledge at the earliest opportunity makes the public aware of the natural consequences physiologically to traumatic events. Dissociation can explain how these experiences can occur repeatedly without any conscious knowledge or awareness. More research should be concentrated on the study and function of the limbic system in regard to attachment and familiarity, emotional bonding and contextual relationships _ ? association (as seen in advertising). Dissociation – also seen in hypnosis, traumatic events, repetitive actions e.g. driving on the motorway with no memory of the journey on reaching the destination. Hypnotherapy – pain management, operations, addictions and phobias etc. All of these natural occurrences to many factors all resulting in some extent of dissociation from consciousness. Another point worth noting is the success of several modalities which again focus on accessing the subconscious, eye movement desensitization reprogramming – tapping. Reiki energy field clearing –tapping. The treatment of phobias and addictions through the use of tapping techniques which have resulted in students improving self-esteem and performance marks as well as behaviour. The capacity of the limbic system has been highly underestimated. This powerful emotional store house controls and edits our perceptions of our reality very often creating anxiety and depression which has shown on images to affect the neurological structure of the brain. SOCIETY it appears has helped maintain and been victim of the most devious cunning plan since the inception of human kind, and despite the massive expansion of our cerebral hemispheres, we still haven’t educated ourselves about our natural physiology and neurology. This ignorance is what has enabled this to continue because we refuse to believe the bizarre symptoms and recollections we repeatedly see in these cases and prefer to blame the victims because all the MAN-MADE STEREOTYPES SHOW that they must have DESERVED or ASKED FOR IT. Then years later society is proved wrong again and again. Yet we still don’t educate our children about the facts, but they will find out eventually. Will they educate their children before it’s too late? The ongoing encouragement and maintenance of stereotypical discrimination only serves to provide scapegoats time and time again. Objectification and depersonalization of those who are vulnerable is a PLOY to provide the perpetrators with some false sense of warped justification for their actions and serves to continue to repeatedly dehumanize society in every case. Until we examine question and change our unequal misconceived man-made gender stereotypes from the earliest developmental stages, NOTHNG can change. We need to educate our children to always view each other as first and foremost human beings. Males and females should always be respected equally. All human rights should be upheld irrespective of gender. All human beings have naturally variable libidos throughout their lifespans and whether male or female this fact should be respected as the individual’s right and choice. Their gender has NO RELEVANCE and never has. Prejudice and discrimination continuing can only result in the proliferation of abuse globally. The expansion of the cerebral hemispheres has enabled humanity to develop each individual’s conscience, by providing the ability to reason prior to action by assessing consequences. However, we ignore the function of the limbic system to our own detriment. Prior to the ability to executively reason, we will have already subconsciously learned through nurture and socialization on a deep emotional level i.e. – attachments, association also learning through example, the dynamic of relationships. What role males and females are EXPECTED TO PLAY levels of power/status, gender stereotypes etc., self esteem and sense of self-worth and individual responsibility of others e.g. care giving. So the psychological brain washing will have shaped the persona on a subconscious level the media and further socialization only serves to IMPRINT these false belief systems. On reaching adulthood the discrimination becomes blatantly obvious/apparent. Society tries to rectify the imbalance through new legislation etc. The big mistake we continue to make is we neglect to change early sociological perceptions. So, in effect we have missed the boat. No matter how much, people want to rectify the gross injustices especially between males and females they will never succeed unless they concentrate on preventing indoctrination of the early sociological and psychological development of each child! Hence Weinstein, the presidents club and the numerous cases seen in politics and the media !!! Male or female NOBODY can argue that each and every one of us has not experienced or witnessed throughout the developmental years ( and far beyond), in most cases Presidents club, Hollywood, media, politics, economics, religion and more disturbing global society as a whole, in the objectification of women. Isn’t it rather telling that a large proportion of men revert to a sniggering juvenile adolescent stereotypical mentality when left to their own devices. Or would the exposing of genitalia have been justified in the presence of their female relatives. Would the dress code have been the same request if couples were invited to the event Hmm!! EVERY MALE AND FEMALE has contributed to belief systems which support or try to justify the continuation of abuse. Depersonalization and stereotypical viewpoints serve to justify pathetic behavior and WRONGLY placate the conscience that this treatment of another human being (irrespective of gender) is in some preposterous way acceptable. So, this occurs again and again There are many women adept at using angle grinders, vibroplates, whackers, handsaws etc. and there are many men who couldn’t so much as change a light bulb. Skills, lightbulbs, interests, occupations in fact every activity of daily living should never be extolled as gender specific as these outdated views/beliefs have only served to create division of the sexes by creating and upholding myths and stereotypes. Until we acknowledge that gender should play NO PART in defining the ability, choices, level of power/status of ANY individual, gross inequalities will persist in society. This will only foster abuse of those less fortunate “Weaker”. Respecting the rights of every human being as valid would help to create a fairer more just society. Abusing the perceived or assumed vulnerability of others, could then be seen for what it truly is a despicable attempt to gain “power”. Further correspondence to Nicola Sturgeon, Mayim Bialik & #METOO & Human Rights Commission Washington DC Some of my further personal ideas regarding the fluidity of gender in regard to inequalities and abuse. The human race has limited gender assignment to the mere physiological genitalia at birth. Mankind has ALWAYS had free reign to designate ALL human attributes as predominately “naturally” within one gender or another thereby attempting to Pidgeon hole human beings as being “Masculine or feminine”. WE HAVE FAILED to acknowledge the fluidity of each human beings’ personal predominant gender identification or affiliation. This is a HUMAN RIGHT from birth. It is time the SOCIAL CONSTRUCT of the concept of gender is scrutinized , challenged and changed. EVERY human being should be allowed to express the essence of their uniqueness on the GENDER CONTINUUM IRRESPECTIVE OF ANY OTHER FACTORS. So, while we continue to set FALSE RESPONSIBILITES/EXPECTATIONS on an individual based SOLELY on that persons PHYSICAL ANATOMY, we fail to appreciate the natural inherent unique attributes and qualities that make up the very ESSENCE AND SPIRIT OF EVERY HUMAN BEING. Perhaps gender should always have been viewed within a continuum of alignment for both boys & girls. e.g. MASCULINE|--------|FEMININE “Masculine” and “Feminine” based traits are present within every human to varying degrees. Early humans commenced the division. Primitive man could just as easily stayed in the cave looking after the children and let the women hunt and fish.(Maybe it wasn’t as appealing to him at the time) Societies proceeded to “advance” through the ages MEN CHOOSING which sphere should be seen as pertaining to males(high powered roles) and females domesticated subservient roles. Thus, ensuring that men had the power to shape the NORMS of any given society. These choices could not be challenged as power within education, politics, employment, trade and commerce, religious bodies, civil society in general and finance ALL depended on the VIEWPOINTS OF MEN. Thus, ensuring the continuation of power remained with them. The problem is MALES and FEMALES have been brainwashed into accepting a MALE VIEWPOINT of what the role and aspirations SHOULD NATURALLY BE if you are male or female. ANY divergence out with your designated gender role has always been questioned and vehemently ridiculed as abnormal and the individual has been shunned, punished or shamed to the current day. IT IS TIME we valued each individual. Human beings’ position within the GENDER SPECTRUM as we have witnessed the societal benefits gained as a result, throughout history. Men have proven that they can effectively raise and nurture children, show immense sensitivity empathy and compassion. Appreciate beauty and convey this ability to others. They have been responsible for the creation of many beautiful pieces of art and literature which touch the hearts of many. Women are equally adept at the above. However, some women feel no maternal/nurturing instincts, and many have shown their desire and attainment of power, wealth and influence has been achievable despite the barriers. There are many sensitive and caring little boys, as there are many argumentative boisterous “tomboy” girls who have always shown keen competitiveness. Think how many more there might have been if society had acknowledged and appreciated GENDER DIVERSITY FROM INDIVIDUAL TO INDIVIDUAL rather than forcing attributes, qualities, preferences, skills opportunities to reside solely with ANATOMICALLY EVIDENT boys or girls. Humankind has adopted these stereotypes as being the ideal “NATURAL” order of things. However, everyone forgets these norms were FORMED , DEFINED and continue to be MAINTAINED by those in power (MEN). If gender identification of the individual is indeed placed upon a LINEAR CONTINUUM think of the mental health issues created due to ignorance of this possibility. STEREOTYPICAL VIEWS Females – Nurturers, Care Givers, Passivity, Non-Confrontational, Non-Aggressive, Non-Competitive, Weaker, Needing Support and Protection, Dainty, Feminine, Less Intellectually Able, Neurotic, Emotional, Hormonal, Menopausal, Post-Natal, Pregnant, Irrational Mood Swings. Males – Strong, Aggressive, Competitive, Difficult/Unable to Control behaviour due to Desire, High Libido, Breadwinner, Protector, Goal and Power Orientated, Non-Domesticated, Need Cared For, Main Provider, Responsible for All Heavy MANual Labour ALL of these attributes have been WRONGLY associated with men or women and every society has worked extremely hard at encouraging and maintain these FALSE HYPOTHESES from cradle to grave. There is no longer a dire need for men to be the provider, like the hunter gatherers. Nor the main bread winner. Cooking a Sunday meal, styling his little girls’ hair, or crying at a film, WILL NOT lead to emasculation. There is no longer a need for women to be solely responsible for nurturing babies. Nor is there a need for a female to stay at home and disregard participation in Law, Finance, Education or Politics if she wishes for fear of her LITTLE BRAIN being overwhelmed to the point of destruction. Its time society allowed ALL human beings to openly define their position within the gender spectrum/continuum by being allowed to express their inherent attributes. IRRESPECTIVE of anatomy, physiology, sexual orientation NOR any other persons VIEWPOINT of FALSE STEREOTYPICAL IDEOLOGIES. Surely this should ALWAYS have been a HUMAN RIGHT. Women entering the workplace can only encourage change hopefully WITHOUT it being seen as TOKENISM. Men who remain at home to raise, nurture and care for their children should be encouraged for opposing society’s FORCED discriminatory stereotypes ALL CHILDREN SHOULD NOT BE MANIPULATED into believing PERCIEVED GENDER ROLES which seek to limit an individual’s qualities, life choices and attributes, but ENSURE we do NOT assign any one attribute to be solely male or female oriented. Women have continuously had to fight MAN MADE barriers which were put in place to ensure that the domination and power of men could not be challenged. In effect this ensured MOST WOMEN would REMAIN within their DEFINED “FEMALE” ROLE by believing and not challenging the status quo of the pre-set boundaries men initially created. Feminism should not be viewed as an effort to emasculate men; just as new age men should not be viewed as effeminate and antagonistic to a “man’s man persona”. They are in effect efforts to reclaim the right to express the essence of the diversity in each individual human being wherever that may be on the gender continuum without prejudice or discrimination Male or Female people should ALWAYS HAVE BEEN ALLOWED to develop into THE PERSON THEY WERE INTENDED TO BECOME. The theoretical idea of a gender continuum would appreciate the DYNAMIC NATURE OF EVERY PERSONA throughout each individual’s lifespan with regards to EVERY ACTIVITY OF DAILY LIVING OR EXPRESSION. Due to the complexity of human beings the position which is held on the continuum would depend on WHAT ATTRIBUTE WAS BEING EXPRESSED at any given time. An appreciation of the effects of nature and nurture on lived experience would further highlight the UNIQUENESS of each individual’s placement in regard to each separate attribute being expressed. GENITALIA & SEXUAL PERSUASION should be IRRELEVANT when any human being to expressing the essence of who they are. The NATURAL ORDER of things should always have been FREEDOM of each individual’s expression. Educators need to TEACH and PROMOTE this at the earliest psychological and sociological opportunity if societal culture is to change for the better. FAIR distribution of power and opportunity was meant for ALL HUMAN BEINGS, greedy power-hungry MANIPULATORS FED OTHERS IN SOCIETY LIES TO ENSURE COMPLIANCE would be maintained by fostering stereotypical viewpoints that females were naturally subservient, dependent and weak. THIS SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN ALLOWED As women have shown their strength in all spheres of society and continue to do so. Men should be encouraged to be sensitive, compassionate and empathic. HAD A GENDER CONTINUUM BEEN CONSIDERED AT THE BEGINNING then it would have been IMPOSSIBLE TO DISPUTE. THE BALANCE OF POWER SHOULD BE SHARED as each individual possessed “masculine” and “feminine” traits to varying degrees. Neither chromosomes nor anatomy promote strength or weakness. MEN initially were responsible in PUTTING VALUE ON CERTAIN ATTRIBUTES and DENOTING WEAKNESS TO OTHER ATTRIBUTES. MEN then COVENTED THOSE THAT THEY VALUED, (led to power), and women were TAUGHT that the role women “instinctually” should adopt is that of carer, nurturer etc. Had men not been allowed to choose their “Masculine” attributes, the label would never have existed. All these labels have created, is division of the Sexes. The creator did not package newborn babies with a list of pertinent attributes attached to their umbilical cord’s dependent on whether male or female. That is how absurd man is to make assumptions based on the need for a control and power grab. SOCIAL COMPLIANCE WAS THEN ENSURED through law, government, power, wealth, peer pressure and gender stereotypes. MEN CREATED GENDER STEREOTYPES and division of the sexes in order to dominate and control. They indoctrinated all of society to believe these false discriminatory ideologies. SOCIETY CONTINUES TO UPHOLD THESE MYTHS This only maintains prejudice discrimination and inequalities GENDER and its inherent division SHOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED. Babies when born should be termed boys in reference to their genitalia and girls in reference to their anatomy. HOWEVER - : If we are to care for others holistically with a humanistic approach. EVERY HUMAN BEING whether boy or girl SHOULD HAVE HUMAN RIGHTS UPHELD by being able to express the ESSENCE of their individuality concerning qualities and attributes. The UNIVERSAL nature of the GENDER CONTINUUM ENABLES HUMANITY TO EVOLVE NATURALLY INTO WHAT IT SHOULD ALWAYS HAVE BEEN WITHOUT FORCED LIMITATONS OR SOCIETAL RIDICULE OR SCRUTINY. Boys and girls have only ONE life to be who they were born to be, then abuse might stop finally. All of these topics if not addressed can only increase ADVERSE CHILDHOOD EXPERIENCES. The proliferation of ACEs is undeniable, the COST on a MICRO and GLOBALLY MACRO SCALE TO SOCIETY is UNQUANTIFIABLE. Every single one of us in the present and future have a HUMANITARIAN OBLIGATION to rectify this injustice NOW. We all need to adopt a conscious conscience by substituting materialism with humanism, nurturing a holistic, compassionate, empathic world where we seek to alleviate the distress or assist with the welfare of others, instead of seeking to take the power from people, to boost our own sense of importance/ego when it actually has the OPPOSITE effect. PREJUDICE, DISCRIMINATION, ABUSE, PEER PRESSURE,BULLYING, IGNORANCE, SUBSTANCE ABUSE, GENDER STEREOTYPES, OBJECTIFICATION, DEPERSONALIZATION, MYSOGYNY/SELF ENTITLEMENT,VICARIOUS LEARNING, POOR ATTACHMENT, INABILITY TO SELF SOOTHE, MATERIALISM/GREED, FRAGMENTATION OF COMMUNITY, NO SENSE OF PURPOSE /CONTROL, ALL INEQUALITIES INITIATE AND PERPETUATE ADVERSITY THROUGHOUT THE FABRIC OF SOCIETY, Imagine a just and fair society where women could display as many or as little “masculine traits” as were NATURALLY developing within them. Or the sensitive nurturing empathic boy was able to openly be himself without ridicule from his peers. Where a woman could stay at home as main carer without the dynamic goal orientated working woman calling her lazy. While the woman who is a carer views her as a “poor mother”, or the stay at home father being viewed by his peers as “Henpecked” and “Under the Thumb”. What about ALL the young men attending A&E with injuries sustained when trying to prove their dominant masculinity? Through displaying violence and aggression How many girls sacrificed their career and prospects to be “Stereotypical” stay at home mums in order to placate acceptable societal norms. Imagine if the CONTINUUM HAD EXISTED: MASCULINEFEMININE TRAITSTRAITS ß-----------------------------Boys and girls Life Span -------------------à

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cummunication · 5 years ago

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The craziest people I know (don’t go to therapy)

Therapy... I have an appointment today actually. I’ve been going for the last ten years. I first started seeing the school psychologist, going to my YFS center (youth and family services). I started going more regularly after my father died which was perfect since I would go during my lunch period. I had nobody to sit with at lunch so it was a perfect excuse to go. I began receiving outside counseling in eleventh or twelfth grade, once a week. At this point I was a minor so my mom paid. Now as an adult, I am thankful my mom brought me and paid because I see how inconvenient it can be and how it adds up. Even though most therapists accept insurance, some don’t. Even with insurance you can be paying 65$ up every time which is usually once or twice a week. That being said, I truly believe the best and most important thing we can invest in is ourselves and therapy is worth it. Therapy is being brought into the open which I’m very happy with but still, there is a stigma attached to counseling. The first thought most people have when they hear you are in therapy is “what’s wrong with them? Are they mentally unstable? Or, why do they need therapy?” People associate receiving help as something wrong with you or you can’t handle yourself. This is simply not true. The most mentally sane (or emotionally healthy people) are in therapy, receiving help for their issues. This is because they are open minded and willing to admit their flaws. They are ready to be proactive and willing to better themselves. I firmly believe everyone should be in therapy. Therapy isn’t just a useful tool where you receive an honest, outside opinion from a professional, but a time to be truthful with yourself, reflect, and gain useful insight. It’s immensely helpful in learning emotional intelligence and how to deal with feelings. Sometimes, when I suggest therapy to people, they say “I don’t need it, I’m not crazy” and to be completely honest, these are the people who need therapy the most. They are close minded, in denial and not willing or ready to deal with their shit. We all have things we should be willing to face, change and improve in ourselves. It’s not just people who have a diagnosable mental health disorder or went through a trauma that should go to therapy. I also hear therapy is “paying someone to be your friend”. This makes me sad because yes, like any other service, therapy is a business; but people who enter the human services, social work or psychology field are generally empathic people who truly care and want to help you. “If I go to a therapist, does that mean I'm crazy, weak or a failure? What will others think? What if I'm seen coming out of that kind of office? Such concerns are quite natural given our socio-cultural conditioning. Unfortunately, as a result, many people decide not to pursue counseling despite experiencing significant emotional, physical or mental distress. Let's clarify a few things. Most people who initiate counseling do not have a serious mental illness. They have serious life challenges or are going through difficult life-cycle transitions that may be taxing their current ability to cope. This, in turn, may be adversely affecting their well-being and ability to function as well as they would like. Examples of serious life challenges can be dealing with chronic work-related stressors; career issues; financial problems; health issues or a recent health diagnosis; family or parent/child conflict; cultural assimilation; and academic issues. Examples of difficult life-cycle related transitions can be the death of a family member or friend; the ending of a romantic relationship or close friendship; family/couple changes related to the addition of a child; getting married or divorced; care giving for loved ones due to illness or disability; and decision-making challenges related to these life choices. These are just some of the reasons why people decide to go to counseling. So, if you are going through one or more of these challenges at the same time, you're not alone. The effects are often cumulative, which is generally referred to as a 'pile-up' of stressors. Counseling during these times can be quite helpful in providing both the support and skills to better address these life challenges. Ultimately, it is an invaluable investment in your emotional, physical and mental health, an act of courage not weakness, and a gift to those whose lives you touch. But what if you’re not in a moment of “disaster relief?” Surprisingly, the best time to start therapy may be when your life’s going relatively well. Despite the fact that more than 59 million Americans seek the services of a mental health care professional each year, there’s a stigma that therapy is only for people suffering a debilitating mental illness or going through a massive interpersonal issue. The benefits of therapy extend far beyond periods of crisis. Many people want more than to be ‘not depressed.’ They wonder what they can do to be the happiest, most productive, most loving version of themselves. Because achieving your full potential requires a heck of a lot of self-knowledge, self-control, and—let’s be honest—hard work, it’s best done when you’re not in freak-out mode. What’s more, if there’s an issue in your life that’s causing you distress, it’s better to deal with it sooner than later. Over time, minor difficulties can bloom into disasters that have you hitting the tissue box hard. But the earlier you go to therapy and engage in introspection, the better off you are in the long run. The benefit of seeing a mental health professional is that it’s literally their job to reserve judgment and guide you toward what’s best for you. Whatever your decision, keep in mind that people’s resistance to your pursuit of mental health typically comes from their own fears: If you’re in therapy, it must mean they should be too. Or if you’re in therapy, you’ll change in a way that makes you less willing to be friends (or romantic partners) with them. Therapy simply allows it to happen with less trauma. While therapy can help remove the wool from your eyes, it won’t create problems where there were none to begin with. If you (rationally) determine you’re not in the right place—career-wise, romance-wise, or otherwise—congratulations! You’ve just identified a buried source of suffering. And by clarifying the origin(s) of your distress, you’re that much closer to living an authentically happy life. The most common types of therapy include cognitive behavioral, psychodynamic, family, and group. Whether you’re looking for a quick(ish) fix to a bad habit, anxiety issue, or phobia, or you’re just interested in some serious soul-searching (“What’s my life’s purpose?” “Why do I keep doing ____ in romantic relationships?”) there’s a therapy that’s waiting for you. Therapy isn’t supposed to eradicate all sadness, anger, frustration, or other negative emotions (envy, embarrassment, self-doubt, etc.). And thank goodness! Because often those tough emotions serve as an internal cue—if you’re listening. That’s where therapy comes in. It’s there to help you learn how to sit with, accept, and not be debilitated by these feelings—all while cultivating self-awareness. The result? You’ll be able to tune in and make choices that make the most sense for you. Rather than achieving perpetual bliss, the end result of therapy is to confidently navigate your life off the proverbial couch.” Also there are many excuses people will make to avoid or get out of therapy. I don’t have the time or money is a big one. What’s more, there are many free or low-cost support options, from hot lines to help groups. Those interested can visit the National Alliance on Mental Illness’s website for more resources. You can also check with your health care insurer to find a professional in your network, or search for practitioners in your area online. Or, if you’re a student, contact your campus health center. “Keep in mind that it’s important to find a therapist you “click” with. Often, this can mean trying out a few different providers before settling on the one who feels right for you. Therapy isn’t just for moments of earth-shattering personal tragedies. It can also be useful in reorienting yourself toward your true wants and needs, training yourself in the art of self-compassion, and better understanding, respecting, and communicating your feelings. And—surprise—it’s often easier to pursue these goals when you’re not wrestling bigger, darker obstacles. So consider this your permission to give therapy a try, even if your life is going hunky-dory. Your future self may just look back and say, “Thanks!”

#therapy #mentalhealth #blog

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shipmistress9 · 6 years ago

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FTLOAP: Chapter 25: It Will Not Be Long, Love

Title: For The Love Of A Princess

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net - AO3

Prologue; 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; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22; Chapter 23; Chapter 24

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

AN: Remember how I said this would be the last chapter before the hiatus? Yeah, well... it's not. Once again, it turned into a ridiculous mammoth and i had to split it. But to fully concentrate on NaNoWriMo, I plan to post the second part of this last chapter on Tuesday or Wednesday... we'll see.

This week's title comes from the song 'She Moves Through The Fair' by Loreena McKennitt

. o O o .

The next two days were… awkward, to say the least.

Hiccup was acting strangely, but Astrid couldn’t tell why. All she knew was that something had gone completely wrong and that she had no idea what it was. To her, everything had been perfect. Her questions had been answered; she had no doubts anymore about their feelings being real, and her fears about whether she’d be able to enjoy Hiccup touching her had been thoroughly crushed as well.

If anything, she only wanted more. The way he’d made her feel, so light as if she was floating, as if her mind and body weren’t connected anymore, and as if nothing existed anymore but the sensations he elicited in her – she wanted more of that!

But it didn’t seem like she would get more anytime soon.

. o O o .

The day after Dagur’s accolade didn’t start that bad. Astrid woke to her stomach feeling like it was twisting in knots – for reasons other than her soulmate for once – but she hadn’t expected anything else. And in addition, she was once again looking forward to that day’s events.

This day was devoted to basic battle training and assessment of the new recruits, including a little demonstration that was Daniel’s favourite – shield walls against archers. It always was entertaining to watch how the young men, who usually assumed they’d be lone warriors on the battlefield, would try to charge an archery tower – sword raised, shield in hand, and a battle cry on their lips – only for them all to “die” when a padded arrow hit them.

Usually, Astrid would stand to the side with Eret and Dagur, making comments and bets on who would get the furthest. Watching men fight, for them to prepare for real battles, wasn’t her favourite freetime activity, but since Fishlegs would be busy treating head- and stomach-aches after last night’s feast, she had few other options. The fact that they would spend the day at the archery range instead of the garrison helped too. She still didn’t feel like catching up on her performance with bow and arrow, but she also didn’t want to hide anymore. She had her brothers who would protect her if needed, and she had Hiccup who, just by existing, made her life so much better – and that was all she really needed.

But the main reason for accompanying Daniel today was… well… Hiccup. His behaviour last night had been so odd, and she just needed to see him, his warm smile, had to know that nothing had changed.

When he showed up, however, it was as if everything had changed. He behaved… weird. There really was no other word for it, even though, to everyone else, he had to appear entirely as he was supposed to.

But he didn’t look at her.

Not once.

He greeted Eret and the others with an appropriate mixture of familiarity and formality, that absolutely suited them. When it was her turn to be greeted, though, he changed.

“Good morning, Princess Astrid,” he mumbled, bowing deeply. Astrid couldn’t even so much as catch a glimpse at his eyes as they were firmly cast to the ground at her feet.

“Good morning, Hiccup,” she replied, puzzled, but managed not to show it.

And then he left without giving her so much as a glance, no covert smile, no nod, nothing. It left Astrid confused as she followed him with her eyes. Sure, they’d agreed on being more careful when interacting in public, but this behaviour was still weird.

Practically all day, she had her eyes on him; first as he stood amidst a group of young men, fruitlessly trying to convince them to organise their charge at the tower, and later as he joined Daniel, Dagur, Eret, and a group of castle guards to demonstrate how effective an orderly turtle formation could be. But he didn’t look at her, not once, not even as they were whooping and cheering at their success.

Astrid thought it might be because of the official setting, that he was playing his role as nothing but Eret’s squire. But given how everyone else regularly looked in her direction under some pretence or other, his behaviour seemed weird. And it stayed that way. During lunch, he sat with a group of lads in a far-off corner of the archery ground, declining politely when Daniel invited him over, and even during the less organised archery training in the afternoon, he didn’t even glance once in her direction. Maybe it was because he was so focused on his bow and the target – he wasn’t the worst archer among the lads, but also by far not the best – but somehow Astrid felt more like he was avoiding her on purpose. Especially when, once the training came to an end in the late afternoon, he bid his farewell in an equally sober manner as his greeting, and practically fled her presence.

It confused Astrid. Sure, they had to keep up appearances when in public… but this went way beyond anything they’d done on earlier occasions. She’d at least expected a covert look, a short flash of a smile, just something.

She wanted to talk to him, wanted to sneak away once again and ask him directly, but didn’t get the chance. For some reason, Timothy’s chicken was going crazy and it took ages before they all settled for sleep – or at least the twins did. Astrid’s night was fitful, with her tossing and turning, unable to find a comfortable position in her feather bed, her lower body aching and her mind reeling.

And the following day was even worse. When Rachel came to wake her, she was still incredibly tired and feeling generally miserable; the thought of spending a couple of hours in bed with tea and a book felt like that might be the best thing to do. But when Daniel came to pick her up for one of their last days at the stables, she didn’t turn him down. She couldn’t! The previous day had been so weird, and despite her determination to not risk letting Daniel and the others notice anything, she still hoped to somehow get the chance to talk to Hiccup. Or to at least silently communicate through looks, exchange a reassuring smile maybe. Surely, he wouldn't be equally distanced as the day before when they were at the stables… right?

Her assumptions were true... to a degree at least. Hiccup wasn't quite as reserved, joked and laughed. It was almost like it always was. Except that it didn’t feel the same. Maybe he was just playing his role, kept his distance as they’d agreed upon. But it felt like more, like there was something concerning him, something that, again, kept him from even looking at her, much less talk to her. It was jarring, irritating, and so… so confusing!

At some point, the men decided to give their horses some exercise in the paddock outside. There had been no time to go for a ride during the previous days, after all, and after these first few days of training, none of them felt like riding out now. Astrid, however, decided to stay inside; the worst part of her moon blood might be over, but as always, it left her dizzy and tired. And in addition… in addition, she hoped for either Hiccup staying behind to keep her company, or to at least get a break without having to act as if everything was okay.

But neither of those hopes came true.

“I’ll stay with her,” Eret offered when Daniel threw her a concerned look, Trample tugging at his rope to finally get outside. “Hiccup, can you take Crusher as well? He and Markor should get along well enough.”

“Of course, Milord,” Hiccup replied, giving his usual exaggerated bow.

Astrid watched as they left the stable, slumping slightly back against the straw bale in her back.

“You okay?” came Eret’s inquisitive voice from the side.

She plastered a smile on her face, but for once not one that was meant to fool anyone – least of all her oldest friend. “Yeah, it’s nothing. Just the usual,” she explained, wrapping one arm around her midst in a telling gesture, and shrugged. It wasn’t even a lie, she told herself. It probably was nothing; she was just overreacting – again. Surely, once she got the chance to talk to Hiccup again, everything would be fine. Tonight, she thought to herself. She would find a way to talk to him tonight, no matter what.

Understanding dawned in Eret’s eyes. “Oh, I see. Want me to rub your back?” he asked.

With a smile, she nodded. As so often, the cramps in her stomach had shifted into her back by now, and this surely wasn’t the first time Eret gave her a light massage to ease them. He settled behind her, the movement of his broad hands and their warmth soon easing her discomfort, and she closed her eyes, focusing on the moment and forcing herself not to think. Absentmindedly, she reached for her chest, for the reassurance.

‘We are good, always.’

She would hold on to that.

“Interesting charm you have there,” Eret suddenly commented. When she turned to give him a questioning look, he nodded at her hand. Confused, she followed his gaze and noticed that she was absently fiddling with her key, the delicate chain wrapped around her fingers. Right… Today’s dress had more of a neckline than usual, pulling out the key had been no effort at all.

For a short instant, she worried about what to tell him, but then decided that, for once, the simple truth would be a good choice. “It’s the key to that small coffer Uncle Oswald gave me once,” she explained light-heartedly.

“I remember it,” Eret said cheerfully. “So why do you have the key with you?”

“Well, it contains all my secrets, so I prefer to carry the key with me at all times.” She winked, making Eret snort good-humouredly.

“Those all fit into that little box?” he asked a little disbelievingly, with a waggle of his eyebrows to show that he wasn’t serious. “I’m disappointed. I could have sworn you had enough secrets to fill at least half of Lake Vola.”

They both chuckled, and once more Astrid was grateful for having such a good friend. A friend who made her feel better for the simple purpose of her feeling better. A friend who accepted that she had her secrets and didn’t pry for them. A friend who, surely, wouldn’t betray her trust if she told him.

But no, she couldn’t do that. Not just because telling anyone would only put Hiccup in unnecessary danger, but also because telling Eret would put him into a compromising situation. She didn’t want to force him to lie too.

“Feeling better?” Daniel asked a while later as he and the others returned to find her enjoying Eret’s massage a bit more.

“Yes, a little,” Astrid replied, her eyes fluttering open. As if drawn by an invisible force, they landed directly on Hiccup, but she immediately looked away and at Daniel instead. It was enough, though; enough to see him finally look at her, enough to see the look of guilt and concern, covered by a soft smile – enough to confuse her even more.

“And we’re done just in time, I’d say,” Dagur chirped cheerfully. “We should go back, freshen up a little. We’re having a date tonight, after all.”

“A date?” Hiccup asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Right,” Eret grinned. “You’re coming too, Hiccup. No discussion, that’s an order.”

“Ahm… okay?” Hiccup made, clearly puzzled. He looked around from one to the other until Daniel took pity on him.

“We received an invitation the other day,” he explained. “Not exactly the usual procedure, but still one we hardly could turn down. What was her name again, Eret? Kayley?”

“It’s Cami,” Eret corrected with a wink.

Astrid’s shoulders slumped a little. Right… The men would be at Freya’s Temple tonight; she’d completely forgotten about that. Almost against her will, her eyes flickered to Hiccup for a split second. The urge to secretly return here again tonight, to talk to him and solve this weird tension between them, was overwhelming. But if he wouldn’t even be here… Well, she’d have to wait another day then.

The thought made her anxious.

“Okay, let’s go then,” Daniel announced once the horses were all back in their stalls. The way back to the castle was a strange experience. Never before had she made this way in Hiccup’s company, much less in such a weird atmosphere. Daniel, Eret, and Dagur were as cheerful as ever, making insinuating jokes that, under proper circumstances, surely wouldn’t be for her ears. Hiccup was eerily quiet though, walking next to them but not reacting to their jibes nor making any comments himself, and only threw her a couple of covert glances every now and then.

It wasn’t hard for Astrid to guess what was on his mind. But as much as she wished otherwise – as much as she felt otherwise – they weren’t married yet. Wouldn’t be for a long time, in fact. It would be ridiculous to assume or even demand for him not to visit an Ástir for all that time. And she wanted him to know that.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then,” she announced once they reached the wing with their private chambers. The smile, with which she looked at each of them, was genuine. “Enjoy yourselves!”

In turning, she caught the pained and torn look on Hiccup’s face, but quickly looked away. She wanted to give him a nod, some form of reassurance that she didn’t mind. But with all their eyes on her, that wasn’t feasible. So she just raised her hand to wave over her shoulder at them all as she walked down the corridor, mentally preparing herself for another lonely night of tossing and turning.

It would be a long night.

. o O o .

As Astrid vanished back towards her chambers, Hiccup had to fight not to stare after her. Although, truth be told, it was an easy fight – fueled by his guilt. Gods, he’d been so stupid...

“Come on, if we’re visiting the Temple, we need to be presentable.” Daniel said, grinning and clapping him on the shoulder.

Hiccup nodded, glad over this distraction as the lessons on decorum that had been drilled into him for the last... Gods, was it almost six years now?, came back with a vengeance. The Ástir might not charge a fee, but you did not disrespect the Goddess they served by showing up slovenly. There usually were basic cleaning accommodations to be found at the Temple, but it was considered a sign of respect to show up presentable already when possible.

The four of them made their way to the castle bathhouse, which was near the residential quarters, and entered the men’s changing rooms. Once inside, Hiccup made his way to the back of the rooms, pulled off his soiled clothing, stinking of the stables, folded them, and left them on the lower shelf of the small cubbyhole that he’d been assigned when he’d arrived some weeks ago; the upper shelf had another of his tunics and trousers from his last visit to the baths, cleaned, laundered and waiting for him.

After getting a robe from the rack, he joined up with the other three, likewise berobed, and they made their way into the bathhouse proper.

It was a nice enough bathhouse, Hiccup had to admit, finely appointed, with warm stones underfoot, artistic mosaics on the walls, and with candles in scones providing a sufficient and soothing amount of light. But the pools here were heated by wood-fires, and part of him couldn’t help but compare them to... to his family’s baths, heated by a hot-spring, and find these baths wanting in comparison.

Daniel, Eret and Dagur were bantering as they entered the half-full hot pool, hanging their robes on the nearby hooks set there for that purpose; the other bathers waved hello, mostly to Daniel and the two ducal heirs, but continued on with their conversations.

As the hot water hit his leg, Hiccup sighed in relief.

“Good to take a load off?” Eret asked with concern.

Hiccup nodded numbly; it had been acting up a lot more over the last couple of days – and he knew exactly why. Sure, the unusual activities of the last days played a part too, but he knew that wasn't the only reason. Guilt pooled in his stomach, but he put on his best calm face and laid back in the pool’s seat, letting the warmth of the water soak into him, and claiming the soap-on-a-rope as it was passed around. Hiccup had to admit that much – the King’s bathhouse had some of the finest soaps he’d ever used.

Mostly, though, he kept quiet as the other three men bantered, feeling miserable.

Guilty and ashamed, but mostly miserable.

Gods, what had he been thinking?

Not now, he chided himself. He didn’t want to drown in his thoughts again, not now. Not when he was around people who could not – under any circumstances – know what he was thinking about.

About how soft their sister’s breasts were, how perfectly they fitted into his palm. About the moans she made when he licked her behind her ear. About how incredible it felt when her fingers dug into his back.

Thankfully, at least in the baths... that sort of reaction wouldn’t be commented on. Just the relaxing effects of the baths – or the thoughts of their upcoming visit to the Temple. At worst, he’d get teased.

But he couldn’t think of her like that! Maybe paying Cami a visit was a good idea after all. Not that he had any choice on the matter anyway, but still. He’d been reluctant, had wanted to find some way, any way out of it. But between Eret’s order and Astrid’s reassuring smile… Yeah, it probably wasn’t such a bad idea. It would at least take the edge off his desire, so that he hopefully could interact normally with Astrid again on their next meeting. Oh, how he longed to be alone with her again, to simply look at her, talk to her, to just be with her.

Daniel reached over and snagged the soap bar, which Hiccup hadn’t realized he’d been holding for this entire time, right out of Hiccup’s hands, the bar swaying from the soft linen rope that was embedded in it.

He gave the prince a sheepish smile, and opened his mouth to apologize, but Daniel rolled his eyes and waved him down. “Don’t worry about it, Hiccup. You have one of the finest minds that I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, and I understand if your thoughts were somewhere else.” He scoffed and nodded his head towards Dagur and Eret, who were cheerfully sculpting the soap-foam on their heads into outlandish shapes. “At least I know your thoughts are more productive than these two thickheads!”

Hiccup chuckled weakly as Dagur and Eret protested playfully. Oh, if he only knew...

Daniel lathered up and sniffed. “Hmm... lavender. Nice. And that reminds me, I wanted to drop by the bakery before we head over to the Temple. I promised Kaden to get her some of those lavender-and-lemon cookies.”

“Oho?” Eret commented, wagging his eyebrow. “You sure there’s nothing more to tell?”

Hiccup cocked his head, listening in with interest. Everything was good so long as it kept him from thinking too much.

“Yes, I am sure,” Daniel sighed. “It’s probably like with you and this Cami. I know her, and I like her. I’m more comfortable with her than with anyone else I don’t know at all. But that’s it. She’s a friend, and I know she likes these cookies. So, I’m going to treat her to some of them. End of story.”

Hiccup had his doubts on the ‘like you and this Cami’ part, but quickly dropped that thought again.

“It’d better stay that way,” Dagur sighed, unusually sober for once. “Believe me, it would only make your life complicated otherwise.”

Hiccup gave Dagur a confused look as Daniel placed a clearly comforting hand on his shoulder. He looked like he also wanted to say something, but before he could do so, one of the castle pages came up, panting slightly and red-faced – and fully dressed. That was odd in the baths.

“Your Highness,” the page said, coming to a halt at the edge of the pool and painting a hasty but deep bow, apparently aware of the depth of the breach of manners he was committing by coming into the baths like this. “My apologies for the interruption, but I was sent to come get you immediately.”

Daniel blinked. “Whatever for?”

“I was bid to give you this, Your Highness,” he said, still breathing hard, and handed over a small scrap of paper, “by the warden.”

Daniel’s brow had been wrinkled in irritation, but he took the note and read it.

Hiccup watched as Daniel’s expression went from curiously annoyed to angry to calm composure, and shared a look with Dagur and Eret. They returned it, just as confused as he was.

Daniel looked up after a moment, and then hauled himself out of his pool seat, and, dripping slightly, pulled his robe on. When he finally looked up again to meet their puzzled gazes, there was grim satisfaction on his face. “It’s… Sorry, but I need to go and meet my father.” He paused, biting his lip, then slightly shook his head. “Can you relay my greetings to Kaden? And maybe get those cookies for her as my apology? But this is important and can’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Eret nodded. They all knew better than to ask for details when the Crown Prince wasn’t sharing them by himself, after all. Daniel nodded gratefully, and before either of them could say any more, he headed off towards the exit.

“Okay? That was weird,” Dagur stated, forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“Indeed…” Eret agreed. “But I’m sure we’ll learn what it was about eventually.”

They finished up in the pool without further delay, the banter from before having left with Daniel. With their fresh but too casual clothes on, they stopped by at their rooms in the residual wing of the castle to get something more appropriate for the occasion. Hiccup changed quickly and checked himself to make sure his outfit looked decent; casual in boots, trousers, and a fine tunic and vest, but still far more elegant than his usual stable boy attire.

He stepped out to where Eret was waiting, and was greeted with a nod and a broad grin. “Great. Dagur is already ready too, he’s waiting outside. Come on.”

“One could think you're a bit eager to meet… Cami.” Hiccup remarked dryly, inspecting his fingertips to ineffectively hide his smirk – and also cover up his own nervousness.

“Well, I am looking forward to seeing her,” Eret emphasised. “Everything else…” he trailed off, shrugging.

Hiccup chuckled, but didn’t comment further. Who was he to tease his cousin about being eager to spend the night with his lover, after all? Freya, if he could, he’d turn on the spot and look for Astrid’s rooms without a second’s hesitation. But he couldn’t. Aside from the tremendous inappropriateness of such an action, he had his duties to follow in accompanying his master, and also had to... let off some steam.

. o O o .

“Wow, these cookies really are delicious!” Eret said; he received a couple of weird glances from passersby, but otherwise went without a reprimand for his behaviour. Hiccup would at least have expected a few giggles at the side of him trying to talk past his mouth full of cookies.

They had gotten the lemon-and-lavender-flavoured cookies Daniel had requested for his friend, but also a parcel of cinnamon-flavoured pastries for Cami. ‘I clearly remember her saying she’d like to try those,’ Dagur had said upon seeing them in the bakery, and Hiccup had to agree. He, too, remembered that conversation they’d once had, back in Eastervale. Back when his biggest problem had been to decide between becoming a squire or a stable master…

“Hey, they’re not for you,” Dagur chided, taking the parcel away from Eret to prevent it from being empty once they reached the Temple. Although, after glancing down at the delicious treats and swallowing, he handed them over to Hiccup. “Here, you take care of these. I don’t trust myself either.”

Hiccup bit back a sarcastic remark while Eret pouted, “Spoilsport,” and stuck out his tongue at Dagur when he was sure he wasn’t looking anymore.There was a playfulness in his tone though, a lightness Hiccup hadn’t heard during the last couple of weeks.

“I saw that!” Dagur commented nonetheless, making all three of them laugh.

It was a relaxed stroll through the streets of the capitol toward the Temple. Not many recognised them, not like when they were accompanied by Daniel or Astrid. They were just three young men, looking both important enough and intimidating enough to not be bothered.

“Oh, hey. That’s just what I’ve been looking for,” Eret suddenly exclaimed, and ran ahead without a warning. “Just wait here for a moment, I won’t be long.”

“Jewelry?” Dagur called after him, disbelievingly staring at the sign atop the shop Eret headed to. “I knew you were into some weird stuff, but that’s new.”

Eret, however, just snorted. “That’s not for me, idiot. I just wanted to get Cami a ‘Welcome to the capitol’ gift. I’m sure it’ll come in handy when she’s dealing with some of those stuck-up nobleman around here. Just give me a minute.” And with that, he was gone inside the shop.

Hiccup and Dagur shared a baffled look and a shrug. A minute of waiting turned into a couple more though, and when Eret finally returned, a small box tied shut with a bow in his hand, he found that Dagur had helped himself to an additional parcel of cookies of his own, from another nearby bakery, and Hiccup was carrying another additional parcel, if smaller than the ones filled with pastries. He smirked at Dagur, snatched one of the cookies for himself, and then nodded at Hiccup’s purchase.

“What’s that?” he asked, wiping away crumbs from the corner of his mouth.

Hiccup shrugged, a little self-conscious. “Well, since you both were about to bring Cami a small gift, I thought showing up empty-handed would be weird. So I got her a small something from that shop over there.” He nodded at a large window at the other side of the alley where small wooden statuettes of varying sizes and forms were at display. That was one of the amazing things about the capitol to Hiccup; with all of the glass they made here, glass windows were commonplace, such that even shops in the market had them.

“Heh, a good idea,” Eret announced cheerfully. “A bit of a personal touch to her new home. What did you get her?”

Hiccup placed the delegated parcels of cookies onto a rock nearby, certain they’d be safe from poaching now that Dagur had his own, and opened his purchase. Inside was a small but detailed carving of a running horse, made of smooth reddish-brown wood.

“Oh, she’ll like that,” Eret grinned. “She said the horses all around Eastervale would surely be what she missed the most.”

Hiccup nodded. “I know, I was there too.”

“Right…” Eret rubbed his back, a little sheepish, then suddenly paused. He leaned in to closer inspect the horse, and laughed. “It looks like Markor.”

Frowning, Hiccup glanced at the horse too – and had to agree. And while he often had arguments with himself in the quiet of the night, this was definitely an escalation from the back of his mind.

“True,” he said with a slight laugh, trying to cover up his sudden nervousness. “I didn’t notice; there were several horses of all kind, but this one somehow caught my eye, and…” he trailed off, shrugging. Anxious not to say something he shouldn’t. The truth was that, despite his sincere wish to get a gift for Cami to treat her, it had also bugged him that he couldn’t get Astrid any gifts. Just something small would do, something solid, as a reminder. Or as an apology for his utter stupidity... But that would be too noticeable, too dangerous. So he’d settled on just getting something for Cami, but hadn’t been able to keep his mind from whirling around Astrid anyway.

And apparently, that had even influenced his choice of gifts…

Shit.

. o O o .

As the three of them entered the Grand Aesir Plaza, Hiccup swallowed as carefully as he could manage, but Eret spotted his reaction. “Right, this is your first time here, isn’t it, Hiccup?”

Hiccup nodded, looking around at the glorious architecture on display.

At the centre of the vast open square was a sacred grove of at least a dozen enormous trees and numerous smaller saplings, their leaves shed, but standing proud and tall. Statues of the Aesir, Vanir and some of the greater Jotunn ringed the grove.

But the outer periphery of the square was what really drew Hiccup’s attention. They’d entered through a covered tunnel, its walls and ceiling carved and painted with images from the sagas of the gods, and emerged into the square, giving him his first look at the place – an effect no doubt intended by the architect, and Hiccup had to give the him or her a mental salute for the effect.

The paving stones underneath their feet had the cobbles arranged in patterns of white, green and brown that suggested branches reaching out from the sacred grove and to the periphery. More trees grew in regular gaps in the pavement, and Hiccup noted that many of them were fruit trees, although the biggest and mightiest tree in the grove was a yew, still green and hardy despite the encroaching dark and cold. He remembered that this particular tree was supposedly almost a thousand years old, planted when the city was founded.

But the buildings... oh...

Where Hiccup had grown up, the temples were of wooden stave-and-post construction – built on vertical logs with one end sunk into a stone foundation and then a horizontal log across the top to connect them and form the structure. They could grow impressively complex, but they were still made of wood, of a tried and true – and boring and conservative – design.

Here, though... they had ventured into stone and glass.

Now that the initial shock had passed, Hiccup saw parallels with the newer wings of the castle, especially the residential wing, and he’d have to check later to see if the same architect had designed both structures – or maybe ask Daniel about it.

A doubled columnade, connected by arches, ringed the vast space, creating a covered space that connected the various temples; the columns were carved to look like trees, and the arches to look like mingled branches. And the buildings themselves...

They were massive confections of intricately carved stone, with stained-glass windows filling massive portions of the open walls. Much like at the residential wing, Hiccup saw flying buttresses, but these were long and elegant compared to the much more muted structures at the castle. But their reinforcement allowed the piers to hold up most of the weight of the roofs, which enabled the architect to allocate all of that the wallspace to the massive glass windows, which glowed in the late autumn gloom from the lights inside.

Undoubtedly, when the grand blots were held, this entire open space would be packed full of worshipers, many of them pilgrims from all over the kingdom, with the Fyrirs holding the sacrifices and prayers in the sacred grove itself.

Suddenly a hand waved in front of his face. “Hic?”

Hiccup blinked, and turned to look at Dagur, who wasn’t even bothering to hide his smirk. “What?”

Eret and Dagur shared a grin, and Eret said cheerfully, “You’d think that you just saw a pretty Ástir do a striptease in front of you from the way that you reacted.” He reached over and gently poked Hiccup in the forehead. “And I don’t think it’s the... bust of Freya over there that caught your attention.”

Hiccup stuck his tongue out at the pair of them and they both laughed.

They made their way in the plaza proper, and Eret and Dagur took turns playing tour guide; they’d been coming here since they were boys, so all of the wonder was long since worn off for them. In a bizarre way, Hiccup had found a second reason to be grateful that he hadn’t come to the capitol until he was an adult. The first was not growing up as Astrid’s brother, of course... but being able to appreciate such magnificence on their own merits for the first time as an adult, with all of the training and learning that had come with it, ranked on a good second place.

Much like the smaller temples elsewhere, the Temple complex functioned more as lodging, organization and work-spaces for the various Orders than as worship spaces, with the sacred grove fulfilling that function. So over there was the building that functioned as Frigga’s courthouse... there was the building where Freyr’s Order minted coins, blessed farming implements, and checked the weights and measures used by the merchants across the kingdom... there was Freya’s hospital for the sick – Hiccup saw a young mother carrying in a coughing child as they walked past – and right next to it was the home of the Ástir.

The door, carved and painted to resemble Fólkvangr, with Sessrúmnir visible in the distance, stood under a fifteen-foot-tall stained glass window of the goddess, riding her cat-pulled chariot, with Hildisvíni running at her side and wearing her cloak of falcon feathers – and nothing else – but before Hiccup could take a moment to appreciate either piece of art, Dagur and Eret each took one of his arms and practically hustled him through the door.

“Come back during the day,” Dagur said.

“It’ll look better, trust us,” Eret added.

Hiccup didn’t comment on their actual and rather transparent motivations, since they were right... and instead took in the foyer and the atrium beyond as they took off their boots and cloaks and handed them to an attendant waiting in the foyer, who took them and handed them small wooden chits with numbers on them.

Lush carpets were underfoot, insulating them from the cold stone, and, once past the foyer doors, Hiccup saw a cheery fire that burned in a large hearth which was surrounded by upholstered chairs and benches laden with cushions, most of them occupied. Tasteful sculptures of the goddess filled various niches in the walls, and Hiccup heard what sounded like running water. Turning towards the sound, his eyes went wide as he found the source – an honest-to-the-goddess waterfall inside the temple; water cascaded in a gentle flow down the stones of a five-foot-wide section of the wall between two windows and ended in a small pond on the floor.

“How...?” he asked, stepping towards it, but Eret’s hand clamped down gently – if firmly – around his upper arm, and he was pulled deeper into the atrium.

Around the atrium, there were numerous groups of people, socializing, eating, or engaged in what looked like intense discussion. Some, going by their dress, were noblemen, while others were members of the Temple of various ranks, and others were more humble city folk.

“Good evening, Milords,” a silky voice sounded from behind him, and Hiccup turned with a start. In front of them stood a woman he dimly recognised from Eret’s accolade, but hadn’t cared to remember so far. The short blond hair didn’t make Freya’s Fyrir any less beautiful, and her robe of black satin and golden silk gave her an air of unquestionable dignity.

“Good evening, fair lady,” Eret greeted her, bowing deeply. Hiccup and Dagur followed his example.

The Fyrir nodded, then cocked her head with an unreadable look. “I see His Highness did not accompany you after all,” she stated. There was no question in her voice.

“Indeed,” Eret confirmed. “Sadly, urgent matters kept him busy. He asked us to deliver these–” he held out the box off cookies Daniel had asked them to obtain– ”to Ástir Kaden in his name.”

The Fyrir nodded once more, then lifted her hand to beckon toward a woman sitting in a nearby niche and chatting to a handful of younger women. She nodded, excused herself from the group, and came over, a friendly and curious look in her big brown eyes.

“Yes, Fyrir?” she asked in a melodic voice, light brown curls bobbing around her face with every movement.

“Kaden, my dear, these lords brought a gift for you.”

The woman, Kaden, turned, her puzzled eyes brightening when she spotted the box Eret held out for her. “The Prince sends his regards and his apology,” he announced formally. “He is tied up in his duties and won’t be able to make it here tonight. He wanted to make good on his promise, though.” He handed over the cookies, and Kaden’s smile grew a few shades warmer.

“Oh, that is very kind of him,” she announced, beaming. “Please, convey my honest gratitude toward him. My pupils and I will enjoy these greatly.” She was about to bob a curtsey and retreat when the Fyrir made her wait.

“I know that you are eager to return to your class,” Mala said, her tone somehow soft and firm at the same time. “But since you have more than enough time for them tonight, would you be so kind as to inform Cami that her visitors arrived?”

“Visitors?” Kaden’s eyebrows rose in surprise as she eyed Hiccup and the others, but quickly caught herself again. “Of course, Fyrir Mala. I’ll let her know immediately.” They watched her retreat and disappear up a flight of stairs.

While they waited, Hiccup went over and examined the waterfall, unable to help his curious nature. A few moments of examination revealed a pipe cunningly hidden among the stone that apparently led upwards.

“There’s a rainwater cistern on the roof that feeds it and several fonts in the building, if you were wondering,” the Fyrir’s voice came from behind him, sounding amused.

Hiccup turned, feeling a bit sheepish, but the Fyrir looked pleased. “Go, rejoin your friends. Kaden won’t be long.”

As Eret rolled his eyes at him, Hiccup returned to the pair of them where they’d snagged small bowls of light broth from a pot by the hearthfire. The Fyrir’s words proved to be accurate as Ástir Kaden returned down the staircase a few moments later, politely smiled at them as she walked past, and returned to her class, who cheered as they were offered the cookies.

“I’d say this is proof then that Daniel was telling the truth,” Dagur snickered as the young women passed the box around. “I mean, she wasn’t even mildly disturbed by him not showing up. And let’s be honest, a box of cookies is not that fancy a gift, but she obviously was happy enough. How does the saying go again?” He smirked. “Ah, yes. ‘A man is smitten with the Goddess’ chosen when the purse at his belt swells like the purse of his loins, and–

“–and the chosen feels the same when she finds room in her heart and her coffer for his boons,’” Eret finished. “Yes, yes, okay. So they’re not in love. Better that way anyway, I guess.”

There was an odd tone in his voice at that, and Hiccup gave him a curious glance; he was missing something. All the saying meant was that you knew a man had fallen for one of the Ástir when his gifts grew extravagant... and she reciprocated when she kept them exclusively for herself, rather than sharing with the rest of the Temple. Like how the now-empty cookie box had been shared.

“Indeed,” Dagur agreed, then gestured toward an empty set of chairs. “But let’s sit down there. Walking here was exhausting.”

At that, Eret smirked. “What, you’re tired already? We didn’t even get started,” he teased. “How exactly do you plan to survive the next couple of hours?”

Dagur just cackled, and Hiccup couldn’t suppress some quiet laughter either as he followed them to sit down as well. Once seated comfortably, waiting for Cami to lead them to her rooms, he couldn’t keep his thoughts from running wild anymore though. He felt… torn. The prospect of spending a couple of… relaxing hours with Cami made him nervous in a way. Sure, this wouldn’t be their first time together, not by far. And being with an Ástir wasn’t meant to be romantic in any way either, not meant to replace the loving intimacy of a married couple. He should be looking forward to it, to get the brunt off the maddening desire raging within him. But he couldn’t shake off the thought that it was… not quite right. He couldn't stop thinking about Astrid, about how much he would prefer to be with her tonight instead. But that was a thought that had no place at all in Freya's Temple, and he hastily fought to banish it into the depth of his chaotic mind, hoping for Cami to hurry to distract him.

He didn’t have to wait long, only a couple of minutes. By then, the three of them were engaged in a conversation about the benefits of short swords, when Dagur suddenly went rigid.

“Oh shit!” he cursed under his breath, making Eret and Hiccup look up at him in confusion. “And suddenly, I’m incredibly grateful for whatever prevented Daniel from coming with us,” he muttered, staring past them with wide eyes.

Hiccup turned in his seat – and froze as he spotted the young woman descending the stairs.

Her wild blond mane, usually only loosely bound if at all, was braided in a complicated pattern halfway around her head until it hung in a long plait down her back, ornate with colourful sparkling stones around a light coronet. She wore an elegant dress in varying shades of blue that highlighted her bright blue eyes, the wide skirts, embroidered with a pattern of swans, waving around her lower half like a waterfall. In addition, she wore elegant gloves that reached all the way to her upper arms, and she moved with an air of dignity he hadn’t seen on her before.

A part of Hiccup knew it was Cami, recognised her face between the costume. But for a moment, all he could see was Astrid, dressed as she’d been under that borrowed cloak, back at that first day at the stables.

. o O o .

This is a wonderful place to let this chapter end... don't you agree? O:)But again, this is not the last chapter before the hiatus after all. Keep your eyes open, there'll be another one, probably on Tuesday or Wednesday.

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#for the love of a princess #ftloap #hiccstrid #hiccstrid fanfiction #httyd #httyd fanfiction #httyd fandom #royalty au #hiccstrid royal au #medieval au #Hiccstrid Medieval AU

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