#he also needs to get pegged but that's a more extensive treatment

[smol-soop-spoon]

the amount of "i can fix him" energy henry winter (or any other tsh character tbh) produces in people should be studied

[songsformonkeys]

Digging Up Bones (whiskey x f!reader) - chapter 3

[Banner by the lovely @yespolkadotkitty ]

Summary: You work for the Statesmen as the head of their medical department. It’s your job to patch up anyone who gets back wounded and to work on ways to prevent them from getting badly wounded in the first place.

Agent Whiskey, in particular, seems to be more accident-prone than the rest and he never passes up a reason to come see you, whether for real injuries or imaginary ones. The two of you form a close friendship, which slowly turns into something more.

Then a British man with a headshot wound and a fascination with butterflies shows up in your emergency room and in the events that follow you’re forced to reevaluate just about everything you thought you knew about your partner.

Warnings: canon typical violence

Masterlist

Chapter 3

The following three days passed in a slow fashion. Not just because Whiskey was gone but the rest of the agents seemed to be staying out of harm's way as well. It was a bit boring, but that was something Tonic had taught you not to complain about out loud since it apparently made it sound like you longed for injuries and carnage.

On the bright side, the slow days gave you, Ginger, and Tonic time to begin interviewing the agents on base for their emergency folders for the Alpha-gel.

The three of you had realized that while the gel and the nanites healed the brain perfectly fine they still needed something to counter the retrograde amnesia, which seemed to be a standard side effect. The sample of agents that had needed to use the gel was still small and so you couldn't draw too many sure conclusions from it, but every single one of them so far had suffered memory loss. It had been Tonic's idea that reminders of a past trauma might jump-start the memory again. The results had been good but guessing and digging up past traumas had been painstakingly difficult and had taken up more time than ideal. So you had collectively decided that each agent should have a file or a folder containing their very worst memory and ways it could be triggered.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 On Wednesday evening, you curled up in your armchair and called Whiskey. He picked up after three rings.

“Moonshine, “ he drawled, voice sounding a little tired.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” you asked, suddenly feeling a little bad. It wasn't that late in the evening but maybe Whiskey had needed to tuck in early.

“No no, I was awake,” Whiskey assured you, “Just got home from a looong day at an art auction. I'm not sure if you've ever been but it is possibly the most boring thing I have ever done.”

“Yeah? What was so bad about it?” you asked, smiling to yourself. You would be caught dead before admitting it out loud but you had actually missed him these past few days.

Whiskey began describing his day. A soon as he began talking, his voice relaxed you. You pictured him walking around in a swanky hotel room, with a view of the big city, probably still wearing his hat. You were half convinced he even slept in that thing.

Whiskey told you about the auction and the few stuck-up people who had pretended not to understand his southern accent just to make him feel less than. Then he told you about the way he'd later wiped the smug smiles off their faces by actually bidding home the small painting they had been ogling.

“Champ might kill me for it, 'cause it cost a small fortune, but it was worth it!”

“What will you do with the painting?” you asked.

“Hm,” Whiskey said and you didn't need to see him to know that he was shrugging, “Dunno. Might hang it in my apartment. It's a beautiful painting, reminded me of someone special... Speaking of my apartment, have you finished the cake yet?”

You nodded, before remembering that he couldn't see you.

“Yes, Ginger and Tonic helped me eat the rest of it.”

You had been over to Whiskey's apartment the day after he'd left. When you'd gotten to work, his key had been in a white envelope on your desk and you hadn't been able to keep your curiosity at bay for longer than a workday.

The apartment hadn't been quite what you thought Whiskey's home would look like. It had been much neater and cleaner than you had expected, for starters. You had expected more of a bachelor pad but Whiskey's apartment was quite nice. It looked lived in but not messy. Each thing seemed to have its own designated spot. As you had walked around the living room towards the kitchen you had taken in the big, comfortable-looking couch and multi-colored knitted blanket that looked like it was homemade.

There had been a couple of books on art history resting on the wooden coffee table. You had stopped, slightly in awe, in front of the big bookshelves that covered a whole wall of the room. You'd never pictured Whiskey to be the reading type, but here was clear proof otherwise. You had scanned the titles of the books and the exceptionally wide array of subjects made you suspect that a lot of these had been read for previous missions. But there had been a whole shelf of fiction too and you smiled a little as you noted that a lot of them seemed to be old western classics.

You had found the cake in the fridge in the equally clean kitchen. The cake had been in a plastic container and Whiskey had stuck a post-it note with a smiley on the lid.

“I liked your bookshelf. And I borrowed a book from you,“ you confessed over the phone and Whiskey chuckled in response.

“Is that so? Which one, if I may ask, was it that caught your fancy?”

“Lonesome Dove.”

“Ah, a classic! Didn't have you pegged as a western girl, Moonshine.”

“I'm not sure if I am, I've never read any. But you had a lot of them and I thought...” You cut yourself off, glancing over at the book on your bed, “You had a book on human anatomy as well that looked interesting and one on make-shift medical treatment when you don't have access to a hospital. I didn't take those, though. It felt wrong to take so many books without asking...”

Whiskey chuckled again and the sound did weird things to your insides, or maybe it was the nerves of having just admitted to raiding his bookshelf.

“Darlin', if it makes you happy, you are more than welcome to help yourself to any book in that apartment”

“Really? But what if it's a book that you suddenly need?”

“Then I'll know perfectly well where to find it.”

You couldn't really argue with that logic, didn't really want to either because the prospect of getting to read all those books almost made you giddy.

“So besides ogling my books, what else have you been up to while I've been gone?” Whiskey asked and you proceeded to tell him about the work with the Trauma Folders, which Tonic so affectionately called them.

“You still haven't submitted yours either, by the way,” you told him. Whiskey didn't immediately answer. The line was dead silent for a few seconds and just when you were about to ask if he was still there, he cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I know. I promise to get right on that as soon as I'm back, okay?” He sounded a little odd and your brow furrowed slightly. Whiskey cleared his throat again.

“Look, darlin', I'm pretty dead on my feet right now and as lovely as your voice is to listen to, I think unfortunately we gotta hang up before I start snoring on you.”

“Oh, of course! Sorry, I've talked too much.”

“Hardly,” Whiskey replied and his voice was warm and soft again, which eased the nervous knots that had begun forming in your stomach at his abrupt attempt to end the call. Usually, that was your role to try and say goodnight and his to try and linger. “I cherish every word, which is why I prefer to be awake for them. Call me tomorrow again?”

“Sure. Good night, Whiskey.”

“Good night, darlin'”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 If the previous days had been slow, the following day was anything but, at least when the afternoon rolled around.

Ginger had called you about some very strange low-frequency readings coming from a church nearby in Kentucky. She told you that she and Tequila were gonna go check it out but that you should be on standby, just in case.

You told her to be careful. Ginger was excellent at her job but she was also one of your closest friends and you couldn't help but worry.

After you'd ended the call, you immediately set about preparing the emergency room and double-checking to make sure everything was there. Seeing as neither of you knew what the strange readings had been about, it was difficult to prepare for every possible scenario, and while you knew that the health effects of exposure to extremely low frequencies were being discussed in the medical community, no one knew exactly what the effects were.

It seemed like a lifetime had passed before Ginder called you again. You heard the sound of the helicopter in the background. She told you that they'd be there in thirty and that they were bringing someone in with a headshot.

“I'll get the chamber ready for him!” you told her

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Thirty minutes later, on the dot, you watched as the helicopter landed and Tequila emerged, carrying a man in a suit. The man's face was obscured by the balloon containing the Alpha-gel but his clothes looked expensive.

“Entry point?” you yelled, over the sound of the helicopter as you waved for Tequila and Ginger to hurry inside.

“Straight through the left eye,” Ginger replied and you winced. The left temporal lobe would be damaged, for sure, maybe part of the occipital one too. You were confident that the nanites would be able to rebuild the brain matter but with the temporal lobe damaged you worried that the memory loss might be even more extensive than what you'd seen before and you wondered if it would affect his speech.

“Exit point or is the bullet still in there?” you asked.

“The bullet went all the way through as far as I could tell. Not sure what he was shot with though so we'll have to scan to make sure there's nothing left in there.”

Said and done. When you got down to the medical rooms you first put the man through a thorough scan of his skull. Just like Ginger suspected, the bullet had gone straight through and it luckily hadn't left anything but damaged tissue in its wake. Tequila helped move him over to the nanite chamber. Carefully, you removed the Alpha-gel balloon and quickly closed the chamber around his head.

“What happened?” you asked as you sat down in front of the computer and began tapping away at the keyboard, starting the machine and readying it for the healing and rebuilding process.

“We have no idea,” Ginger said. “We found him like this outside the church, no sign of who had shot him. Inside the church, however...”

“What?” you asked.

“Inside was a total fuckin' bloodbath,” Tequila supplied, “Whole congregation just...slaughtered.”

You looked over at the strange man.

“You think he did it?”

Both Ginger and Tequila shrugged.

“We don't know. But he's got blood on him that isn't his own and there was no gun in his hand so he clearly didn't shoot himself, which means someone got away from that Church alive.” Ginger reasoned, “And there's one more thing..”

She pulled a pair of glasses from the pocket of her jacket. The left glass was shattered.

“He was wearing these. These aren't normal glasses, which means he's not a civilian. And his watch... he's some sort of intelligence. I'll dig around and see if I can find out whom he belongs to.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 You called Whiskey again that evening. He sounded more awake today but you could practically hear the frown on his face when you told him about your strange new guest. He was not happy.

“He's an agent?” he asked.

“We think so. Ginger is running some tests on his glasses and his watch to see what we can figure out but so far we have no idea whom he's working for. So we just have to wait for him to wake up and see how much he remembers.”

“I don't like this,” Whiskey stated. “Not one bit. If he's intelligence, he's dangerous, Moonshine. You shouldn't be alone with him, not under any circumstances!”

“I won't,” you reassured him while rolling your eyes. “Agent Tequila also has an over-protective streak and has, therefore, put himself on guard duty until further notice. I've had him looking over my shoulder all evening.”

You had found it somewhat annoying but Whiskey had instantly calmed down upon hearing that bit of information. He told you to promise to listen to Tequila on this, which you reluctantly did. You didn't tell Whiskey that if the arrangement continued, you would have to come to some sort of agreement with Tequila on how close was close enough for protection. You couldn't have him reading over your shoulder all day long or you'd go stir crazy.

Whiskey continued to ask you a bunch of questions about the strange man and you couldn't answer a single one. He asked you about the signal too and you couldn't give him any answers to that either. It was all Ginger's area of expertise and you told him as much.

“Sorry, darlin', just wanna make sure my favorite girl is safe until I get back.”

Whiskey's words made you smile stupidly, despite the slightly patronizing undertone of them. You would like to think you knew how to take care of yourself, especially around your patients. But you did enjoy it when Whiskey called you his favorite. No one else had called you their favorite before.

After a few more minutes of chit-chat, you both said good night.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 The next day, your patient woke up.

It had been decided the day before that Tonic and Tequila would be the first ones to greet him. Tequila because of the whole bodyguard business and Tonic because he was by far the one who had the most experience with calming people in shock and panic. You had only sulked a little when you'd sat down the desk on the other side of the one-way mirror showing you the stranger's cell. You turned on the cameras in the other room to record the interaction before leaning forward over the desk to watch.

As anticipated, the man was more than a little freaked out by waking up in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces around him.

“Where am I? Who are you?” he immediately asked and you raised your eyebrows as you noted his British accent. The stranger tried to scramble off the bed where he'd been lying. Tequila took a step forward but Tonic quickly held up a hand to stop him.

“You are in a hospital,” Tonic told the frightened man and gave him a calm smile, “My name is To...Tom.”

“A hospital? What happened?” the stranger asked.

“We were hoping you would be able to tell us. You were in some sort of accident and when we found you, you were unconscious.”

Unconscious... that was definitely an understatement to describing having had one's brains blown out through the back of their head.

“Do you remember anything of what happened?” Tonic continued.

The British man looked around the room with wild eyes but he was already calming down a bit. While you were a bit jealous that Tonic, or Tom apparently, was the first one to get to talk to your new patient you had to admit that it was a privilege to get to watch him work. Tonic continued talking to the man and answering his questions by saying just enough to calm him but not enough to confuse him.

You found out that his name was Harry, but he couldn't remember his last name. He was from England and he thought he was 23 years old, which he most definitely was not. You caught Tonic and Tequila exchange a look as Harry told them his age. If Harry couldn't remember anything beyond his 23rd year then you estimated that he had forgotten more than half of his life. And since he wasn't one of your agents, you had no idea how to bring those memories back again...

Tonic and Harry spoke for a while longer and Tonic told him about his injuries. He also told harry about the memory loss. Harry didn't believe him until Tonic guided him over to the one-way mirror separating you from them and let Harry have a look at himself. You stood on the other side of the mirror and could watch as realization dawned on Harry. His breathing immediately sped up again and he was beginning to panic.

“Harry,” Tonic said calmly, “Harry, I'm gonna need you to breathe slower with me, okay? We've seen this kind of memory loss before and we will do our very best to help you recover the memories you can't remember right now”

“Think of it as one hell of a hangover,” Tequila supplied and Harry gave him an incredulous look.

“Hangover?” he asked in a weak voice “I look old enough to be a grandfather and I don't remember any of it... I don't think anyone has ever been drunk enough for that kind of hangover.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Tonic and Tequila handled the whole ordeal in a way that made you proud to call yourself their colleague and they stayed with Harry for most of the day, talking and explaining. Harry listened patiently and you had to give him credit for taking the situation a whole lot better than some of the Statesmen who had gone through the same thing. He was scared and worried, sure, but he managed to keep his panic in check and asked Tonic a whole bunch of relevant questions.

You wished you could have stayed and watched all afternoon but eventually you had to go back to your own office and begin typing up your report.

You had barely gotten two paragraphs in when your phone started ringing.

“Moonshine?” Whiskey said as soon as you picked up and you could immediately tell that something was wrong. He sounded scared. There were car horns blaring and loud crashes in the background.

“Yes. Whiskey what's...”

Whiskey cut you off before you could finish your question.

“Where are you?” he asked and when it took you a fraction of a second too long to answer, he repeated the question, “Moonshine! Where are you?”

“I'm in the office. Whiskey what's wrong?”

“Good! Whatever you do, stay where you are! There's something in the air! People are killing each other!”

“What?” Before you could say anything further, your door burst open and you screamed from surprise.

“Moonshine!” Whiskey yelled, panicked, as Ginger stormed into the office and pushed you out of her way to get to the computer. She began tapping on the keyboard and you watched as she pulled up live feeds from several cameras around the country. Your mouth fell open as you watched the chaos that filled the screen.

“MOONSHINE!” Whiskey yelled again and you realized you hadn't answered him.

“I'm fine!” you quickly assured him and you heard him exhale loudly. “Ginger just showed up. What the hell is going on?” The last question was aimed at them both. The quality of the feeds wasn't the best but there was no mistaking what was going on. All over the country, people were killing each other.

“The fuck if I know,” Whiskey said at the same time as Ginger supplied the slightly more helpful “It's the same signal! It's the same low frequency as we picked up from the church. But this is all over...well the world”

She turned and looked at the phone in your hand.

“Is that agent Whiskey?”

You nodded but then froze as you heard a banging noise on the other end of the line, which sounded much closer than the previous ones. You heard Whiskey curse.

“Whiskey?”

There was another crash and he cursed again.

“I'm sorry, darlin', I seem to have a visitor. I gotta go.”

“Whiskey,” you begged and you heard your own voice break as you spoke his name.

“Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll deal with this and then I promise I'll come right home to you. You just promise to stay inside and stay safe, okay?”

What about you? you wanted to ask, but Whiskey had already hung up.

“He'll be fine,” said Ginger, who must have seen the expression change on your face. You nodded. She was right. Whiskey was an excellent agent. He would be fine.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 He would be fine. You managed to convince yourself of that up until about an hour later when the office phone called. You were too busy clutching your own phone, waiting for Whiskey to call back, to pay any attention to the other phone so Ginger picked it up and answered. She exchanged a few cryptic comments with the person on the other line before ending the call by saying:

“We'll be ready for him.”

After she'd hung up the phone she turned towards you.

“Whiskey's on his way back. He's been stabbed but according to the pilot, he's stable. They're flying him back now. “

[bleedingcoffee42]

Eureka AU - Part 9

Weeeeee...here we go.  Future Me is going to be so happy when she edits this and has to make up entire fields of shitpost science.  Hahaha.  

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ed's eyes shifted over to Mustang who now sounded a lot more like the boss they all knew.  His statement was an order, it wasn't a discussion starter, and Al was already reprogramming his tiny robots to do as asked.    He had to admit, it was good to feel like the condescending asshole was back to being himself because they genuinely needed him.

“That would avoid sending her into shock when you kill a massive load of invasive pathogens in her body.”   Knox said.  He was here to remind everyone his patient was human and this wasn't a simulation. Killing a large quantity of anything in her bloodstream could very well have consequences they were not planning for.   In theory a lot of things sounded good, but they were just desperately looking for any idea that could work at this point and that was not how he practiced medicine.   “I do like the idea of giving the virus something else to attack, that will give her own immune system a chance to fight back as well.”

“How are we going to get the nanites out of her system?”  Marcoh asked. “Now they're going to be twice as big, if not bigger, and she's already lost blood?”

Ed watched Mustang stand up, his focus seemed to have returned and his attitude noticeably changed.  He was back to commanding everyone's attention in the room, they all looked to him even though he hadn't made a sound to indicate he had an answer.  

“Chelation.” Roy said as if the answer was simple and had been there the entire time.   “Dr. Comanche has a project that is meant to extract metals from the blood stream, more than just the common treatment for lead and mercury poisoning.   It's been approved for medical use, extensive testing already.   Last proposal he submitted to me implied he was able to use it to extract valuable metals from any source.   He's trying to market it to me as a way to clean waterways of mercury, but his research paperwork tells me he's also looking to harvest more valuable non-toxic metals in the process.“

Ed saw where Mustang was going with this.  “So he has the equipment to synthesize an amino acid to do his bidding in his lab?”

Roy pulled his keys out of his pocket and held them up.  “Shall we?”

Ed smiled and together they left Al's lab to go take what Comanche had available.  Under any other circumstances he would be delighted they were pillaging his colleagues labs and utilizing the incredible array of resources in this building for good.   Right now he was just happy it was here and they were able to take advance of years of research to save someone they all held dear.   He ran over to the elevator to hit the button and open it for them both to head to the next floor. “So what tipped you off about Comanche?”

  “He clearly doesn't think my field of Thermodynamics includes equilibrium thermodynamics because he might as well have highlighted all the documentation of his side project in the proposal he submitted to me.”

“Not to defend the guy, cause he's a dick, but you are notorious for not looking at paperwork.”  Ed reminded him.  Mustang looked over at him and smiled, a smug smile, that made him think that that was a ruse.   The asshole did read everything.  

“In this instance, I thought it best to catch him harvesting his retirement income from the polluted streams instead of trying to prosecute him based on theoretical research that not judge is going to understand.”   Roy replied.  

“Or let him collect next years budget for you since his inventions are contractually property of the government while he's working in this facility.”   Ed countered.

“You have no idea how much this place costs to keep running.”  Roy said and the doors to the elevator closed and they went up to the next floor.  “You especially cost a lot of money.”

“We might not have to beg for Congressional pocket change if you spent more time being a scientist and less time as a politician.”  Ed said to him and Mustang narrowed his eyes at him.  

“There is honestly nothing good that will come from any projects I create with my specialty.”  Roy said.  “I've come to that conclusion long ago.  I'll do more good filtering what the government sees and receives from Eureka.”

“Like the flame-thrower gloves you keep in your desk?”

“Stop breaking into my office.”   Roy hissed as the bell dinged indicating they were on the next floor.   Ed snorted, as if it was his right.   Fine.  He'd put an end to that.  “I have sex with my wife on that desk.”

“What the fuck, Mustang?”

Roy smiled and stepped off the elevator and walked down the hall to Comanche's lab, room 047.   He unlocked the door and turned on the light.   Together he and Ed started turning on equipment and looking for what they needed.  “Comanche used his biological advancements in the field to get himself hired here, now he's focusing on environmental uses for his research.   I suspect he's doing that to not only gain favor within the community here, which is by nature rooted in finding cleaner and less invasive ways of doing things, but also to divert attention from what he may be doing with his original research.”

Ed was already diving into the files on the computer.    There was a lot of information here and it backed up Mustang's theory that Comanche was a really busy guy.   “Well that would explain how a dude his age can hop around on that peg leg like he's a ballerina.  He's using Chelation to clean his own  body of the wear and tear of aging.  I thought that was bullshit pseudo-science.”

“What's commercially available, yes..”  Roy said and turned on the machine that was used to synthesize the amino acids for the particular task needed.   There were profiles in the computer already for the standard uses of cleaning lead, mercury and arsenic from the body.   There was more though and Roy opened them up to see each to consider the formulas.   “EDTA for cleaning his clogged arteries and another for his joint arthritis.”

“Glad he's testing that on himself but I think keeping the obvious advances to himself is bullshit.” Ed shook his head.  “I see what you're saying about his environmental project.   Someone is a naughty alchemist, pulling lead out of the water and with it- gold.”

“He's probably old enough to have called himself an alchemist.”  Roy replied and heard Ed chuckle.   “I'm sure he's hiding it all so he can diversifiy his retirement fund,  quite the windfall when he takes this to the private sector.   I don't feel bad at all for breaking in here to use it for my own personal reasons.”

“It's personal for all of us too.” Ed said.  “Hawkeye is the best thing to happen to this town in a long time.”

“I'm well aware that if our little feuds ever came to taking sides that this town would have all stood behind her.”  Roy said, thankful that those days were behind them but also with a touch of nostalgia for the rivalry they had started with.  She made him work to outmaneuver her and that was something he couldn't say of a lot of people.  

“Alright, I have something promising here.   Let me upload Al's data and see about making us something. Metallurgy is a specialty of mine I got this.”  Ed said and connected his tablet to the computer and started to work his magic.  

“How is your brother going to handle us targeting his nanites and neutralizing them with this? I'm basically having you classify them as a toxin to have them broken down and flushed down the drain.”  Roy asked.   He didn't want to mention the Ultimate Eye tech they had thrown into the tank that was going to be destroyed with them.     He'd figure out that later.

“Al's not selfish, he understands that the sacrifice is worth it.   It's a setback, but he's patient.” Ed said and kept typing.   Heavy metals and elements were a breeze for him, he barely needed to focus to re-calibrate the program.   “Besides I'm sure he's discussing a catheter and collection bag with Knox as we speak.   Nothing gets flushed down the drain.”

“Riza will be thrilled to hear he's called 'dibs' on her piss.   Life in Eureka never ceases to keep her guessing.”  Roy said and saw data being transferred to the machine he was staring at.  Ed was fast.    He looked at the time and realized it wasn't even midnight yet.  It felt like they had been here forever, that he'd lived a few lifetimes between carrying Riza into the infirmary around 1800 and now.   This was a glimpse of her job, what happened when he was away.   This was why she was so adamant of being read in on everything that had the potential to go to hell, because when it did it was a race to stop a catastrophe.   They played on a whole different playing field here, science without regard to established rules and so often bordering on playing God. When it went wrong, it went horribly wrong.  They had so much they still needed to talk about and he hoped he got the chance.

“She'll be pissed.” Ed snorted and Mustang shot him a look.  “She hates sitting out.”

“That she does.”   Roy said and looked at the screen.  They were ready to begin synthesizing the next step in the process.  

[marcodiazisacismale]

Marco is a Cis Boy - Not a Trans Girl

To start with, I want to preface this with stating that I am by no means bashing the trans community or even those who hold this as a headcanon. But that’s all it is -- a headcanon. Not canon. It’s fine to entertain the possibility, but at the end of the day you have to accept that all the “evidence” for the Marco is a Trans Girl theory is circumstantial at best. This post is meant to be a call to reason for those who are adamant about the validity of said trans Marco theory and support for those who disregard it.

The Marco is Trans theory can be summed up as having his various likes taken and juxtaposed alongside other clips taken out of context. We’ll start with a picture people often use as evidence to support the idea that Marco is ashamed of being a guy.

In the picture above, Marco is shown with a towel around his head, and a towel wrapped around his chest. People will commonly say this is because Marco is ashamed of his being biologically male, but this is simply part of what makes up Marco. Marco has no problems doing things that are seen as feminine, and this is simply part of that.

In fact, here we can see Marco is entirely comfortable being out in public, such as at the beach, without a shirt on. This shows that Marco is, in fact, comfortable with him being a guy. Rather than wear a t-shirt to the beach, or something else, he is shown without a shirt on; this points to Marco being comfortable being male.

Quite simply, Marco is a guy who happens to be comfortable with “girly” things who also happens to hang around some people who like to make fun of him. *Cough* Glossaryck *Cough.* Here we have another example that people like to use in evidence of Marco being trans. According to some people, because Glossaryck mistakes Marco for a girl, and Glossaryck is a powerful, multi-dimensional being, he’s clearly seeing Marco for what he “truly is.”

Except....Glossaryck is kind of an asshole. He regularly insults people, and to top it off...

Glossaryck also calls Ludo a girl. Does this mean that Ludo is also transgender? I think the evidence points more towards the fact that part of who Glossaryck is is just that he likes messing with people. Making fun of Marco’s insecurities is part of that. He isn’t pointing out that he’s a girl - he’s pointing out that Marco thinks he’s not manly enough.

In fact, far from being ashamed of being male, he likes having a buff male bod, as seen when he is dismayed to find his more chubby self having been reverted post Hekapoo. This is Marco in the future. He shows absolutely no sign of gender dysphoria. He is extremely comfortable being in this hyper-masculine state, and is distressed at the regression from this state of being extremely masculine.

Perhaps this is what his Naysayer was talking about -- he, like many of his age, is ashamed of his body, simply in a way that many teenagers feel they aren’t good enough. Marco is ashamed of how he doesn’t have rock-hard abs, and by extension, that he isn’t the perfect masculine stereotype.  This is what Marco is ashamed about. Gender stereotypes might not bother Marco in public, but we all have our hidden anxieties, which is shown here. It’s part of what makes Marco such a relatable character. He has his own anxieties about not being perfect that many guys go through during puberty.

When he makes the trip to St. Olga’s, he doesn’t want to get in the big poofy dress, he has to. Otherwise, St. Olga would out him for not being a princess. Because, as I’m sure you know, being a girl (or in this case looking like one) is necessary to be considered a princess. It was a disguise. No one ever accuses an actor of actually being the thing he/she pretends to be. So why should that treatment be given to Marco, a boy pretending to be a girl so he can get into St. Olga’s?

He does admittedly state that he wouldn’t mind being in a dress every now and then, but wearing dresses isn’t inherently indicative of wanting to be a girl. One complaint by many is that clothing is considered gendered, and Marco has never really cared about gender stereotypes. To Marco, this is less likely a sign of wanting to be a girl, but rather him simply continuing not to conform to gender norms. Besides, he never does wear a dress except when St. Olga comes around, in other words, when he needs to.

When in Star’s closet of secrets, he says he doesn’t want to be in the closet anymore. As opposed to taking the convoluted route trying to explain this as him being a closeted trans character, how about we take the more obvious explanation: his being in Star’s closet of secrets represents Star’s crush on him. The closet wasn’t his; it was always Star’s. When he sees himself in a suit, eyes closed, like a dead person might be, of course he’s horrified. The joke is that he’s horrified about him being in a suit, as opposed to the more obvious death. Marco has been shown to wear suits throughout the series, so suits clearly do not actually bother him.

Also, when the creators of a show say they are open to the idea of more LGBT characters, that does not mean they are saying Marco is trans.

“I’m not really going to be able to say anything about it for now, but my overall thoughts on the theory is that I find it very sweet! It’s cool that it’s gotten this much of a positive response and acceptance!”

“I can tell you that Daron is open to the idea of LGBT characters but beyond that the situation gets complicated. Also, as a board artist, I don’t have a lot of say in terms of larger story or character arcs, so I’m afraid I can’t comment on future plans.”

Part of why I feel so honored to be on the Star crew is the fact the everyone is so eager for the inclusiveness that you guys deserve! I wish I could give a more reassuring or more substantial answer, but little by little people in the industry are trying to change things. The victories seem a bit small for now, but please know that you’re not forgotten.

“I’m so happy you guys have found something you can relate to and brings you happiness! That’s what it’s all about badda-bing!!!”

“We’re all so open and want to represent lgbt characters so much, a lot of times though the decision’s out of our hands.”

(The above quotes are taken directly from a user called breastforce, as they are among the most ardent supporters of Marco being trans.)

These quotes simply mean they appreciate the effort some of their fans put into creating a fan theory. Let’s be serious for a moment. Who would snub their fans by saying a fan theory is outright wrong, anyway? Not a cool thing to do, and bad for publicity. Remember, just because a creator is supportive of a theory doesn’t make it canon. 

That’s the counter-theory. Can we please stop taking things out of context and appreciating the full scape of what the show is? It’s a show about a badass princess and her sidekick who isn’t afraid to be who he is -- a karate chopping liker of masculine and feminine things. While I would in no way be opposed to there actually being a trans character on Disney television, I don’t try to make a square peg fit into a triangular hole. As opposed to spending efforts in supporting a theory with very little canon-supported evidence, why not advocate for a brand new show that does sponsor a transgender character? Press lawmakers to not be discriminatory in bathroom rights. Or, just be there for your LGBT friends. It’s a wild world out there; sometimes we all need a little reminder that we are loved and accepted. While Marco may not be trans, many in this world are. Take a moment and support these people in real life. They need the support more than any fictional character ever would.

[athingofvikings]

Chapter 4: The Scottish Play

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Chapter 4: The Scottish Play

The political landscape that Haddock and his tribe found themselves thrust into was one marked by extensive conflict and political fragmentation.  The most significant power in Europa, beyond that of the Catholic Church, was the Holy Roman Empire, under Henry III, and it was undergoing a period of consolidation, and the Byzantine Roman Empire, which was likewise experiencing an era of decay in the aftermath of the death of the Emperor Basil the Younger in 1025 CE.  Otherwise, there were few extensive centralized powers; even those rulers who could claim significant domains, such as the Kievan Rus', consisted of tribal or feudal confederations that were not politically unified beyond the person of their sovereign.

—Corpus Historiae Berkiae, 1396

 A month later, Stormfly was well on the mend in the the dragon stables—and being antsy about not being able to fly with her wound.  Of course, with the weather having been foul as normal, most of the dragons were staying inside where they could, but she'd been distinctly unhappy during the nicer days when all of the other dragons could go flying, and Astrid had spent a great deal of time in the stables with her as a result. Which, of course, also meant that Hiccup and Toothless were spending a great deal of time there as well, between the various construction projects that Hiccup was overseeing.  And with one thing leading to another…

Stormfly had been through five saddle designs in the last month, each progressively fancier than the last.  And she was absolutely delighted to try on any and all accessories that Astrid and Hiccup could think of, prancing about in front of all of the other Nadders and showing off what her rider and her rider's boyfriend were making for her.

Which mean that now Astrid and Hiccup were in the smithy, with Gobber working nearby… and acting as chaperon for the two of them.  

Astrid was sitting off to the side, her fur cloak discarded and hanging on a peg, the warmth of the forge seeping into her bones.  Hiccup was at the anvil, pounding away at a piece for Stormfly's new saddle.  A piece of foolscap with Hiccup's tidy scrawl lay nearby, detailing out measurements that he had taken.  

"Astrid, could you get me my notebook from the back, please?" he asked, as he shifted to smaller and smaller hammers.  "I need to check my designs for this."

A smile on her face, she hopped off the bench as Hiccup returned the metal bracket to the forge to bring the metal back up to temperature.  He waved, his brow dripping with sweat, and she returned a wider grin before slipping into the back.  It was crowded back here, filled with Hiccup's designs and experiments, and seemed to be organized based on the "is there an open spot?" method. A basket of stone rings lay on the workbench, with pots of brushes and woodcarving tools next to it.  

She let her fingers wander over the shelves.  A variety of Hiccup's experiments at creating war machines done at the scale of toys occupied the top shelf, which he called "prototyping", while papers were stacked on the top.  The shelf below had painting supplies and his notebooks, which she pulled off of the shelf, trying to figure out which of the several were the one that he was looking for.

"Hiccup, which one is it?" she called out to the main room.  

"Uh, the short one, I think!"

She looked back at the books.  One was taller, and the rest were roughly the same height.  

"That didn't narrow it down much!"

"Uh," he said as the sound of hammering resumed, "Hang on a second." And there was a quick flurry of hammering and then a pause.  

"Sorry Astrid," he said sheepishly.  "I've got it.  It was in my pocket."  

She stuck her head out the door to the main room, eyebrow raised, as Gobber chortled.

"Really?"

"Yeah, sorry," he said, giving a sickly grin.

She rolled her eyes. "I swear, Hiccup, you would forget your own head if it wasn't attached."

"Not true!" he said back with a grin.  "I haven't managed to get anywhere without this," pointing at his left foot.

She grimaced. "Uh…" and the levity of the moment died.  "Sorry, I didn't mean…"

He frowned.  "Oh, uh, sorry, Astrid.  I wasn't offended.  Don't worry."  With a sheepish grin, he indicated the book on the anvil with his chin.  "Could you…"

Her smile slowly returning, she walked back out into the main forge area as he used a little hammer to gently knock the small piece of metal into the proper shape of a bracket. She picked up the book and flipped through it until she found the page that Hiccup needed.  Before turning it to show Hiccup, she took a moment to appreciate her boyfriend's genius brain.  

All she had done was idly comment that she wished that she could carry her ax while riding Stormfly, and by the next day, he had designed a holster that would sit below the saddle and hold the ax head, with the ax shaft in easy reach of the saddle. It would keep Stormfly from being cut by the edge, while at the same time using the springy metal that Gobber used in his tong-hand to allow her to pull it free nearly instantly.

If, of course, it worked as well in real life as it did on paper.  

She turned the book around to Hiccup, who squinted at his blueprints and made a minute adjustment with the small hammer before returning the bracket to the heat of the forge.

Toothless, who had been curled up nearby, clearly also appreciative of the heat of the forge, sat up, and walked over to the bellows, heaving the lever before Hiccup could move around to the wooden handles.  

Astrid blinked. "He hasn't done that before."

"He does that every so often.  I think he finds it cute. 'Look at people and their fire.'  Also, he figured out that it gets it hotter, which he likes."

The thin metal heated quickly, and Hiccup removed it from the forge with the tongs once more, taking out a very small hammer from the rack to make his most minute adjustments while it glowed red hot.  Toothless stood next to Astrid, both of them watching Hiccup work.  Apparently satisfied with his final bits of work, he plunged it into the quenching bucket, where it hissed and sputtered for a moment.

An hour later, the pieces were assembled and mounted on the bracket.  As Hiccup worked to attach it to the leather, using a few temporary ties of rawhide ("in case I have to take it off again"), Astrid hopped up on the sawhorse where they had put Stormfly's saddle.  Hiccup had been all ready to just try his new invention on Stormfly directly, but Astrid had given him a level look and said that she wasn't going to put something sharp right next to her friend's wings without testing it first.  

Hiccup stood back from the holster, and crossed his arms with a grin.  "Give it a try."

Astrid carefully swung down the ax, trying to keep it aligned with the brackets that Hiccup had just laboriously designed.  Two false starts later, and she swung the ax-head in perfectly, the ax settling into the new holster with a satisfying click, the three brackets holding the edges and handle of the ax, and she looked up at Hiccup, delighted.  

"It works!" she said, grinning.  

"Half-works," he said, stroking his chin as he looked at the brackets holding the ax head; a leather backing would keep the brackets from chafing against Stormfly's side, and the metal and wood of the brackets shielded the edges of the blades. "Try pulling it loose now."

Astrid leaned over and heaved on the handle, and looked at Hiccup, who frowned as the brackets held tightly—too tightly.  "Great. I have to loosen—whoa!"

Her boyfriend jumped back as the brackets suddenly popped open, releasing the ax and sending it flying. Meanwhile, as she had been putting all of her weight onto the handle, she toppled over the side of the saddle. In the other half of the room, Gobber jumped and yelped as the ax went hurtling.  The floor rose up in her vision, and she tried to tuck into a roll on reflex… only to smack into the wall with a yelp and a reverberating thud that shook the various weapons hanging in their brackets.  Even over the ringing in her ears, she heard her very sharp ax thunk into something wooden a few feet away, even over the sound of Gobber's exclamations.

Hiccup appeared into her upside-down field of view within less than a handful of heartbeats. "Astrid, are you okay?" he asked, green eyes wide with concern.  In the background, she heard the length of chain that Gobber had been working on for the training pit's net slither to the floor musically.

She looked up at him, a touch dazed, before she laughed.  "It works!"

He extended his hand down to her and helped her to her feet, commenting, "Uh, let me loosen it a bit. We don't want you falling off Stormfly in the middle of a fight."  

Standing, she grimaced, and rubbed at her head.  Hiccup looked at her with concern.  "You okay?"  

"Yeah, I've done worse to myself practicing tumbles."  She looked around.  "I'll be okay in a minute.  Let me get some ice from outside to put on it.  Get my ax, would you?"  It had sunk into one of the support pillars of the smithy nearby, and Gobber was giving the whole arrangement a dubious expression.  

The sky was a brilliant blue over the white of the snow drifts, with just a few clouds visible off in the distance, although the wind was blustery.  Packing up a wad of snow, she held it against her head, feeling the knot from her impact with the wall start to settle down.  

As she walked back into the warm smithy, she saw that Hiccup had put her ax within easy reach of the harness; he was working the bracket with a tong and a prybar, trying to get it to loosen a touch.  The metal squeaked under protest of this treatment, but he worked it back and forth a dozen times or so, until the metal resisted a bit less.  

As she walked in closer, he looked up and said, "Just about done.  Hop back on and we'll try again."  

Gobber, having finished his length of chain, or at least his current links, walked over. "Alright you two, what is that you've got going here?"  He looked over the setup with the sawhorse, saddle and ax with an air of studied disinterest, although she could tell that he was examining it closely.  

"Oh, just a little addition to her saddle.  Give it a try, Astrid," Hiccup said with a grin.

She hopped back into the saddle and, focusing carefully, she swung down the flat of the ax-head into the brackets, which clicked closed around it smoothly, and, with a grunt of effort, she pulled it free again.  Swinging around the ax victoriously, she pumped it into the air with a cheer.

Gobber just grinned. "Very nice.  Yeh might have wanted to loosen the metal first before giving it that first go, but, eh, no harm."  He held up his hook for emphasis, and his eyes narrowed.  "This time."  He gave Hiccup a level glare.  "You were working with sharp blades and springs, Hiccup, and didn't take proper precautions.  I know I taught you better than that."

Hiccup flushed and looked chastened.  "I… I… yeah, sorry, Gobber.  You're right."

"I'm not the one needing apologizin' to.  You're lucky that Astrid didn't fall onto one of the swords or crack her head open on one of the warhammers when she fell," Gobber said scoldingly.  "She's the one that you just put into danger because you didn't think."  

Astrid made a protesting sound, and Hiccup looked at her apologetically.  "No, he's right.  You… could have gotten hurt."  He looked at the pack of snow in her hand.  "More hurt."

She gave him a level look, and Gobber sighed.  "Lecture over.  Now, let me look at what you two have put together," he said, bending to examine the brackets.  A few minutes or so of study, with him making "hmm" and "ahh" noises, and at one point taking Astrid's ax and slotting it home to examine the mechanism and taking it out again several times in a row, left him satisfied.  

"Interestin' idea. Let her be a proper Viking on dragonback, ax and all.  The springs should hold pretty well.  But you'll want to try it out first with some of those silly acrobatics that I've seen you pull before trying them in battle.  You'd probably feel very silly if you did one of those cartwheels in the sky only to have your ax fall off midway through and cut the dragon's wing or leg."  He stood up with a grunt of effort. "Also, you'll need to replace the springs every so often as they wear out."  He slapped the side of the saddle.  "Other than that, looks like it should work.  Finish those ties and take it out there."

As Hiccup went to remove the saddle from the sawhorse, Astrid saw a contemplative expression cross his face, and she gave him a look.  "What was that?" she asked.  

"Oh, just another idea."

Gobber looked at him with a degree of exasperation, while she sighed.  "Of course yeh just had another one.  This isn't going to be another idea like the dragon catapult, is it?"

"It worked!" Hiccup protested.

"Hiccup, yes, it could launch a dragon straight up and let them start flying, but it didn't work so well with people," she retorted.  

He sighed as he hauled the saddle down from the sawhorse.  Setting it on the table, he said, "I said I was sorry for accidentally launching you."

"Over the side of the cliff," she noted dryly.  The Weyland-inspired contraption had lasted a week before it had shaken itself apart in that awe-inspiring racket, and she'd been its first human victim.

"Stormfly caught you before you hit the water!"

"And dropped me back on the platform like it was a game," Astrid said, shaking her head, remembering her screaming as she'd gone hurtling through the air without the benefit of a dragon—again.  At least she'd been luckier than Ruffnut, who had gone flying from the thing's death throes. "I know that she likes to play fetch, but that was...  not what I had expected," she finished lamely.

Gobber burst out laughing. "Aye, lass, you can't really blame the lad for that one.  He did warn you not to step on it.  And you should blame Tuffnut for sending you flying; he's the one that pulled the lever."

She gave the old smith a level look, which made him laugh harder.  

"There you were, talking with your dragon, wondering why she was so excited, and walk out onto the board, then Hiccup gets this look on his face and warns you, and before you have a chance to get what he's saying," his hook traced out an arc in the air, "there you went!"

She sighed and put her head down in her hands, before starting to laugh herself.  "And then I punched Tuffnut."

"Twice."

"He deserved it," she growled.  Tuffnut had been watching and waiting for her to get onto the thing before pulling the lever that sent her flying.  So she'd gone over and decked him, and then done it again when he'd staggered back to his feet.  And she just regretted that Ruffnut had been the one that had been launched over the side when the contraption had destroyed itself.  

"Aye, that he did. Of course, I still canna understand why you built it in the first place, Hiccup.  Dragons can fly pretty well on their own," Gobber said, picking out an iron bar from the stack and putting it into the forge.  "Sort of their nature."

"Yeah, well, I noticed that not all of the dragons can fly straight up from the ground, so I was experimenting with a takeoff system that wouldn't require more space or an overhang or something."

"And then it turned into a dragon toy," Astrid noted.  The dragons had loved it, especially the Nadders.  There had been a line.  

"And then it turned into a dragon toy," Hiccup acknowledged.  "How many times did Stormfly take a ride on it before it broke?  Eight times?  Nine?"

"I lost count. It was like jumping out of the swings when we were children."

"Huh…" Hiccup suddenly had another contemplative look.  "Dragon swings…  Ouch!"

"That's for coming up with too many ideas," Astrid said, smirking, having just pinched Hiccup's ear.  She then hugged him and gave him a peck on the cheek.  "And that's for everything else."  

He grinned at her, and undid the rawhide ties.  She watched, occasionally being called upon to hold the saddle steady in place, as Hiccup worked intently at replacing them with rivets at the anvil, the small metal slugs heated, pushed through the holes and then flattened.  

Once they were done and cooled in the quenching bucket, she tugged at his arm, still holding Stormfly's newly enhanced saddle.  "Come on, I want to try this before the sun goes down and it gets too cold to go outside!"

She swung open the door, into a world of swirling white, the blue sky from before having vanished since she'd last looked, and then shut it again.

"Then again, maybe tomorrow," she said, deadpan.  

Hiccup chuckled. "Yeah."  He bent down to Toothless, who had looked at the blustery snow with disgust, and started scratching behind his ears. "Dragons don't like flying in storms, do they, bud?"

Toothless shook his head in disgust, and Gobber laughed.  "Aye, a year ago, a big blow like this was a sign that we would be safe for at least the night.  The only dragons that will fly in a storm, much less a blizzard, are ones like the Skrill or Scauldron.  A wet dragon head doesn't light, and a wet dragon wing is just an ice sheet waiting to happen."  

Hiccup nodded. "I remember."  He suddenly turned thoughtful.  "Huh…"

Astrid and Gobber shared a look of mutual understanding.  She leaned over and asked the older man, "Should we let him think, or stop it now?"

"Eh, let the dragon decide."  Gobber turned to Toothless.  "Eh, I think your buddy there is trying to think of a way to have you fly in a blizzard.  What do you say to that?"

A moment later, Hiccup was flat on his back, pinned by Toothless, who was licking his face. Thoroughly.  

"Oh, come on!  I was just thinking!"

Astrid crouched, and tousled Hiccup's hair.  "Hiccup? With you, it's never 'just' thinking."

He sighed and laughed. "Can I get up now?"

She laughed and Toothless moved off of him, but not before getting in one last slobbery lick.  He pulled himself to his feet, making grossed-out noises as he wiped away at the slime, and then joined in the laughter with her and his mentor.

Flying could wait for later, she thought to herself as she grinned at him.  This now… this was wonderful on its own.  

###

Ruffnut, bundled up against the cold, flew next to her brother above the overcast clouds on the back of Barf and Belch, soaking in the sunlight.

Taking in a deep satisfied sigh, she looked out over the expanse of white clouds under the deep blue sky, which looked like the waves of an ocean.  Down below, it was cold and dreary, and, while it was definitely frigid up here, the warmth of the sun helped.  The Zippleback was just coasting along, rarely flapping his wings, as the twins rode on his back, enjoying the moment of getting out from the house.  

Of course, they might have had a reason to hide up here… but she was sure that nobody would find them up here until after they had finished unburying the chieftain's hut.  

Who knew that there was that much snow on the sides of Raven's Point? They'd done Hiccup and Stoick a favor by making sure that it wouldn't happen again, that was for sure. Yep.  Totally a favor.  No way that it was a prank that had gotten out of hand.  Yep.  That was her story.

As they drifted along, she looked out at the clear blueness, Manni's moon visible as a waning crescent of white on blue in the west, the horns pointing away from Sunna's chariot.

An image occurred to her as she looked at the ripples of the clouds, and she started to work on a kenning based on it to share with their uncle.  

"Ymir's skull vaulted over the white sea… no, no, that doesn't work…" she mused to herself.

Tuffnut leaned over. "Whatcha working on?"

She gave him a sidelong look.  "A new kenning for Uncle Chestnut, and I'm not sharing.  Make up your own."

"Fine.  I'll make one nine times better than yours!"

"You can't even count to nine!" she said testily, trying to keep the images in her head of the various layered metaphors that a proper kenning was made of.  

"Sure I can! Just watch!"

"Then work on your kennings and let me think!" she said back crossly.  

"Fine!"  

It was nicely silent for a moment, quiet except for the air rushing over Barf and Belch's wings, and then Tuffnut started muttering to himself.

She groaned.  "Shut up!"

"I was being quiet!"

"No you weren't!"

"Yes, I was!"

"Then you need to clean your ears out again the next time you bathe, because you weren't!"

They kept bickering for a few more passes until they settled down in sullen silence once more.

Ruffnut had just managed to put together a good solid kenning of the image of the sea of clouds beneath a featureless blue sky that implied the reversal of colors…

When Snotlout's voice came from nearby and knocked it out of her head.  

"Hey there, beautiful. Come up here often?"

She scowled and huffed in utter frustration as she realized that she'd lost the kenning.  Pulling out a knife, she looked around and threw the small blade at Snotlout from where he was flying nearby, looking at her.

"Whoa!" he shouted, as Hookfang darted out of the way of the knife, which quickly vanished into the clouds below.  "What's wrong!?  I'll go get your knife for you!" he said in a hurry and he and his dragon dove after it, vanishing beneath the blanket of clouds.  

As he disappeared, she sighed and started piecing her shattered kenning back together.  

A minute later, though, he was back, and proffering her knife back to her.  

"I caught it! Told you I could.  I'm just that amazing," he said boastfully. "So, interested in coming by and seeing my place?  Maybe work out a little?"

She just sighed and looked at him.  "Why aren't you pestering Astrid anymore?"  The other question on her mind, what did I do to deserve this? was easy to answer.  She was a girl near him.

"Oh, that's not important," he said with a winsome smile.  "I mean, why do you care? I'm here for you."

Oh, I know.  How can I make you go away for me?  With a sigh, she just gave him an exasperated look.  "Turned you down, didn't she, so you went for your second choice?"

His grin turned a bit sickly.  

She sighed. "Give me back my knife."

His grin turning more hopeful, he eased Hookfang closer and held out her knife for her to take.  

Grabbing it by the hilt with one hand, she looked him in the face as she used her other hand to unhook his belaying lines.  

"Snotlout?"

"Yeah?" he said, grinning widely and leaning in.  

She grabbed him by his collar and yanked him off of Hookfang's back.

As he plummeted down through the clouds, she shouted down after him, "I'm not interested either!"

Hookfang gave her a reproachful look and dove after his screaming rider.  

Tuffnut just looked at her.

"What?"

He shrugged.  "He was just trying to be nice."

She just gave her twin a flat glare.  "No…" she said through her teeth, "he was trying to get into my trousers."

"Huh?"

She rolled her eyes and decided to use small words as she put her knife back in the belt sheath. "That wasn't being nice, that was 'Hey, want to sleep with me?'"

"And…?" Tuffnut asked, clearly confused.  

She sagged and sighed. "Tuff, did he ever even talk to me before?"

"Uh… well… didn't he?"

She just looked at her brother with a level stare.  "Only to tease me, in between hitting on Astrid or picking on Hiccup."  She clasped her hands up by her face and affected a mocking smile. "But now that she's with Hiccup, he won't leave me alone."  She shifted her tone to a nasally mocking exaggeration of Snotlout's voice, "'Hey beautiful, wanna come by my place and sing?' 'I found this cool thing, want to see it… alone?'"  She huffed in irritation.  "So if you think that I'm dumb enough to…" she looked at him.  "Wait, nevermind."

"Huh?"

She snorted and turned away, looking back at the clouds.

After a moment, her brother said hesitantly, "Umm… sis?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want me to tell him to leave you alone?"

She just turned and looked at her brother.  "Oh, that'd be nice," she said sarcastically.  "Because of course he won't listen to me."

Tuffnut's eyes just grew wider.  "Uh, so you don't want me to talk to him?"

"Sure. Swell," she said.

Snotlout and Hookfang flew back into view.  

"You just tried to kill me!" he shouted angrily at her.

"No… I had a knife. If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead," she said levelly to him.  

"Then what do you call that!?" he demanded.

"A warning." She glared at him.  "Snotlout Spiteloutsson, I'm not your consolation prize for Astrid picking someone else, or your spare bedtoy."  She narrowed her eyes.  "Got it?"

He looked at her and then, wordlessly, flew away.  

With a smile, she got back to working on her kennings.  

###

Hiccup hammered the second-to-last nail into the wood and stepped back with a grin before passing the hammer over to Astrid's father.  

With a look that was half-skeptical and half-curious, her dad hammered in the last nail with a few solid hits and stepped back as well, looking at what she and Hiccup had spent the last fortnight working on.  

The waterwheel was a bit taller than Stoick, and it had taken Astrid weeks to talk her father into letting Hiccup borrow one of their smaller millstones for this experiment. But the spring thaw was nearly here, and they'd managed to convince him, as the village miller, to let Hiccup try building a small water-powered grain mill.

The idea had come from a book that Fishlegs had just bought from Trader Johann, about some engineering done down in the continent, and Hiccup had run with it, building a model that had convinced Astrid.  And then she had pestered her father into trying it.  It had been a hard sell; they'd had horizontal wheels before, but they weren't very effective, and her family had switched over to mules at some point a generation or two back, apparently citing that the mules could be bribed easier.  So a vertical wheel had been a tricky sell on her part.  

But now it was built, after a month and a half of hard work, near one of the streams that cascaded near the village; Hiccup had picked a nice little waterfall as the spot.  The water was currently frozen over, but that had made construction easier, and carrying over the supplies and materials had been simple with the dragons.  The millstones themselves had been the hardest part to bring over, just due to them being heavy stone, but the Gronckles had lifted them easily after she and Hiccup had figured out the best way to attach the carry-straps.  

Her father turned and looked at Hiccup.  "So now what, son?"

Her boyfriend just turned and whistled to the dragons standing nearby.  The Night Fury and the various Nadders promptly turned to the frozen-over holding pond above the waterfall, one that they had put together the other week during a brief thaw, and breathed fire.  

The rush of heat made her sigh in appreciation as the cold disappeared.  A minute or two later, the water, steaming in the cold, started to flow over the small dam, down the spillway, and onto the waterwheel.  

With a creaking noise, the wheel started to turn, slowly at first and then faster and faster.  

Cheering, she and Hiccup ran inside the new building, and watched the wooden gears and shafts that they had so carefully shaped start to spin.  

Her father came up behind them and put his hand on her shoulder.  

"Alright.  I'll admit it," he said, looking as the millstones ground together, barley flour pouring out between them, and not a single draft animal needed, "this was a grand idea."  He shook his head, a smile on his face, and patted Hiccup on the shoulder with his other hand.  

After a moment, watching the millstone spin, her father laughed again.  "Looks like I have to go get more barley.  That stone's spinning twice as fast as the mule could manage to turn it."  He turned and looked at the pair of them.  "Astrid, you know the rules for being around a millstone.  Keep him from losing any bits."

"You mean any more bits," Hiccup said sarcastically.

"Uh…" her father glanced at his peg and reddened slightly.  "Sorry.  I just don't want to have to explain how you lost some fingers or something to Stoick."

Hiccup sighed and nodded. "Okay."

Astrid just slung her arm around her boyfriend and nodded at her father.  

She watched her dad hop onto his Nadder, a sanguine and rather hyperactive pink fellow named Cloudfox, and fly back towards the village.  Once they had flown out of sight, she turned, took a quick look around and saw that there were no witnesses in the area.  Grinning, she grabbed Hiccup by the collar to pin him against the wall with a thump, and gave him a bruising kiss.  

He gave a brief noise of surprise, and then melted into it, and they were both breathing heavily when they broke the kiss shortly thereafter.  

"It's working," she said gleefully to him, their foreheads touching, the noise of creaking wood surrounding them.  

"Was there any doubt?" he asked back, grinning.  

She just gave him a skeptical look.  "When you've had three, no, five creations in a row work without them falling apart or flying apart, you can ask that question again, okay?"

He shrugged, grinning widely at her.  "Okay."

She gave him another kiss, and her own hands started to wander a bit.  As they reached certain spots on him, Hiccup coughed and pulled away a bit.  

"Not now," he said with a pained look.

"Why?" she said, giving him a sly grin.

"Because your dad won't be gone long, and having him walk in on you… touching me like that might have him change his mind on me losing bits!" he said plaintively.  

She gave him a look and then nodded sourly.  "Point."  They'd had a few scant moments of actual privacy since Yule, but what times they had found had been so very enjoyable… if a bit fumbling and occasionally intensely awkward.  And even then, they hadn't gone too far… yet.  But they both knew that that was coming, sooner or later.  

Assuming that they could find themselves enough privacy to do anything, of course.  But Hiccup was right—her dad would be back soon, and him walking in to find her hands in certain places on Hiccup, or the other way around… probably wouldn't be good.  

The millstone started to slow, as did the sound of the water from outside.  

Hiccup poked his head out the door and shrugged.  "Looks like the meltwater's all done," he said.  

"Well, for an experiment, it went well, right?" she said.  "And Thawfest is in a month or so.  The water will start flowing once the ice melts."  She grinned at him as the millstone came to a slow stop.  

He nodded and grinned up at the gearing that they had put together and waved his arms around to indicate it all.  And, as the reality of it really sunk in, he put aside his earlier bravado and started to cheer in earnest.  "Astrid, look!  Look! It works!  It actually worked!"  

She beamed at him. "It did!"  She reached up and tousled her boyfriend's hair with a grin, and then reached further up and patted the main drive shaft like it was a well-behaved pet.  Her father had always been complaining about how much it took to feed the mules that they used to turn the millstones that ground the flour for the village's bread. Now, thanks to Hiccup… well, those days would be a thing of the past.  

Again.

She leaned up against him possessively.  "So, what's next on your list of ideas?"

"Well, I had some ideas for this place, or the next one we build…" he said, grinning.  

She rolled her eyes fondly and gave him a moderately light punch to the arm with a grin.  "Of course you do.  What sorts?"

"Well, for starters, I'm noticing that the drive shaft there is rubbing against the socket there…" he pointed where the big beam entered the room, "so I was thinking of carving some wooden balls from oak or something and making a collar for them to spin in…"

She tried to visualize that, and then nodded.  "So it can spin without rubbing?"

"Yep!"  He grinned and then said, "And I think the next waterwheel needs to be bigger, with bigger buckets or paddles… and if we do it on the side of a steep hill, there's nothing stopping us from having one wheel dump water into another wheel below it…"

Cocking her head in thought, she nodded in agreement after a moment.  "I see.  Yeah. Oh, dad would love that."  A thought occurred to her.  "Hey.  Can't you have the drive shaft push, oh, I don't know, a hammer or a flail?"

Hiccup stroked his chin in thought for a moment.  "Hmm… yeah… well, probably.  Why?"

"Threshing grain," she said, making a whacking motion, as if knocking the grain-heads from the stalks.  "Although it's a really great way to work on proper hammer form."

Understanding dawned in his eyes.  "Oooh. I see.  Hmm… yeah.  I think I could do it."  He cocked his head.  "Heck, if I do that… I could make it also for the forge… a nice hammer… and maybe work the bellows…"

She grinned and gave him another kiss, which quickly deepened.  She started nibbling on his lip a bit as his hands started rubbing her back.  

Which, of course, was when her dad walked back in.  

He gave an amused cough from behind the two of them, holding a pair of large burlap sacks of barley grain, one on each of his shoulders.

"Am I interrupting anything?" he asked with a smirk, dropping the heavy sacks to the ground with a thud.  

Hiccup's hands flew to his sides and he stepped back from Astrid convulsively.  "Nosir.  Uh—"

"Hiccup, don't worry. I'm not going to feed you into the millstones for touching my daughter."  He grinned at the pair of them.  "So, let's melt some more water.  I want to test this thing that you've built first.  It worked for a short while and for a few handfuls of barley. Let's see how well it handles a few sackfuls, shall we?"

They nodded, and Astrid just gave her father a grateful look.  He and her mother—after some initial lingering skepticism at the dragon tamer in those first few weeks, courtesy of a long family tradition of dragon-slaying—had eventually come around to accept Hiccup as her boyfriend. They even had their own dragons now, Nadders like hers.  

Hiccup went outside to get the dragons to work, and called greetings to her mother, who had arrived with her father.  As her father fiddled with adjusting the millstones, she heaved up the sack of barley onto a ledge and slit it open with her knife, noting that the blade's edge was getting dull.  Well, she'd just have Hiccup put it to the stone when he had a chance.  Another roar of dragonfire from outside, and the millstone started to turn once more after a few moments.  

A few minutes later, it was spinning merrily, the big wooden gears taking the slow speed of the waterwheel and making the stones spin that much faster, due to their differing sizes. She just remembered her own reaction when Hiccup had shown her the model and how the different sized gears could be used to change the speed of the spin.  And now the ideas were bouncing around in her head, and she was thinking of other ways that they could do things.

A rush of air announced the arrival of another dragon, and a moment later, Stoick walked into the mill, looking around carefully before stepping fully inside.

"How goes it, Hákon?" he asked her father, as he looked around with interest.

"Your boy and my girl do good work," he said with a grin, feeding in handfuls of grain into the hopper from the sack that Astrid had opened.  He waved vaguely to indicate the room.  "We're about to start seeing how well it works for long term, but so far I'm impressed.  It's working much better and much faster than the old wheel that my father talked about."  He motioned to the clean floor.  "And not having to work around mule shit is a blessing in and of itself."

Stoick grinned. "Aye.  And less spoilage from the smell, too, I'd wager."

"Ayep."  Her father tossed another double-handful of barley grains into the hopper..  "Now, let's take a look…"

Her dad knelt down to where the flour was pouring out from between the two millstones and down onto the pan around the base of the bedstone, and picked up a double-handful of the flour.  Holding it up to his face, he took a deep sniff, dumped half of it back into the pan, and then rubbed some between his fingers with his eyes closed, feeling for the texture.  Then, smiling, he turned to Stoick.  "Nice and fine.  Minimal grit."

Stoick just quirked an eyebrow.  "Aren't they your own stones?"

"Aye, but, as you said…" her dad tossed the handful back into the pan and rose to his feet, "less spoilage.  The bakers will be happy."  He pointed to a small pile of empty flour bags nearby.  "Hand me one of those?  I want to start bagging this."

The chief laughed, and tossed over an empty sack.

Stoick having cleared the doorway, Astrid slipped around him and made for the door; it was a touch cramped in there, with the chief in the way.  As he and her dad chatted about the new mill, she went outside to find Hiccup talking with her mother near the holding pond.

"I still can't quite believe you built the whole place in less than two months," her mother was saying to him as Hiccup shoveled in more snow to be melted.  "I know that the dragons helped, but I'm still surprised."

Hiccup just blushed and shrugged in a downplaying manner.  "They did all of the work.  I just pointed—"

Astrid threw a snowball at the back of his head from maybe ten feet away.

"What the—! Hey!" he shouted, turning around to look at her.

Grinning at him, she threw another one, square in his face.  The light powder exploded as it hit his nose, and he coughed and shouted, "No fair!"  

Ducking, he scooped up his own snowball and threw it blindly back in her direction, but it missed. Grinning, she tossed another one at him, and it hit his hair in a wonderful cloud of white.

Her mother ducked out of the way down the hillside, grinning, and gave her a cheer.  

He rubbed the snow out of his eyes and glared at her before laughing.  "What did I do to deserve that?"

She just grinned at him.  "Nothing. It was just a perfect opportunity." Her grin widened.  "I couldn't resist."

There was suddenly a smirk under those big green eyes, and he shrugged and went, "Well, I guess then I shouldn't feel bad about this."

"Wha—?" she started to say, and then Toothless, having snuck up behind her, dropped a giant pile of snow onto her head from where he'd been carrying it between his front paws.  As she sputtered and cried out over the sudden cold, he dropped down around her and gave his little chortle-laugh.  

Hiccup and her mother, the traitor, were laughing hard as she brushed the snow out of her face and hair. With an exaggerated humph, she gave the black dragon a deadpan glare, which he returned with a grin.  

Just as she turned back to her boyfriend, another snowball came flying in and whacked her in the chest. Unfortunately, Hiccup's snow supply was a bit melted, and it was much damper snow, and shockingly cold from the water in it.  She gasped from the chill as it spread across her chest, and then swore at Hiccup before throwing more snow at him.  

"You ass!  That was cold!" she said, half-laughing as the cold water made her skin pucker up all over, and threw another snowball at him.  

He ducked away from the snowball, and then his peg slipped out from under him on the slickness of the snow.  With a yelp of surprise and a splash, he fell into the melted waters of the holding pond.

Astrid gasped, her eyes wide in realization of how cold that water would be.  Without hesitation, she darted up the last few feet of the little hill around the waterfall and went in after him.  It wasn't terribly big, but it was still enough to drown in.

As the water hit her skin, she held back a screaming gasp from the sheer frigid chill of it, but Hiccup was worse off.  He was scrambling for leverage on the water-smoothed rocks at the bottom of the pond, and it was just deep enough to keep him from pushing himself clear of the water with his arms.

Taking a deep breath, she ducked her head under the water and grabbed him by his collar and arm. She managed to drag his head up and free of the water just as her mother appeared over the lip of the pond; she had mud all down her front, on her arms and in her hair, probably from slipping on the hillside.

Astrid's own muscles were clenching in the face of the cold, and she tried to haul the two of them out of the water, only to find that she couldn't.  Her fingers had lost all sensation, and her arms were just trying to wrap themselves around her.  Feet on the bottom of the pond, she tried to pull herself out, so she could pull him out next, and her hands slipped on the wet wood.  Then her mother grabbed her with both hands and pulled her free. Turning, even as her muscles screamed at her, she helped her mother drag her boyfriend free of the grasping waters of the little frozen pond.  

Teeth chattering, she held him close and tried to speak, only for a spasmed shiver to hit her that nearly doubled her over.

"C-c-c-cold…" she gasped out.  Hiccup just fell to his hands and knees and vomited up a stream of water before gasping for air.  He was shivering so badly that it hurt her to watch him.

The dragons hustled over, and Toothless did something that she'd never seen him do before.  With a look of focus on his face, he gave off little breaths of fire, which gave welcome warmth to her, but they faded too fast.

Another spasm hit, and her mother turned to the concerned dragons.  "Get them to the bathhouse and into the warmth, quick!"

Toothless nodded and went to help Hiccup onto his back, but a massive shiver-spasm made him fall off. Toothless gave a growl of concerned alarm.  

Stormfly, who had been watching the snowball fight with an amused look and had rushed over when Astrid had dived into the pond after Hiccup, pushed her way into the group.  

"Take Stormfly," her mother said, concerned, and turned to the dragon.  "Hiccup can't work the tailfin when he's like this," she said to Astrid's dragon.  "You have to carry them both to someplace warm now."

"Toothless can, no—" Hiccup tried to protest to her mother, just as another wave of shivers wracked his body, his voice sounding raspy and watery.

"Hush, boy.  Save your strength," her mother said, and looked at the dragon.  "Take them!"  

Stormfly nodded, and helped the two freezing teenagers onto her back.  With a rush of wings, they took off, Toothless following behind them on the ground at top speed.  

The chill of the wind on their wet clothing was like knives on their skin, and they huddled close together on her dragon's back for the brief flight to the village.  It couldn't have been more than a count of thirty, but each moment seemed to stretch into an infinity of agonizing cold.  

Then Stormfly banked and flew down, landing in front of the bathhouse.  She hauled Hiccup, whose hair had frozen into an icy reddish mass, off of her dragon's back.  Then, hunched over, the two of them staggered towards the bathhouse, their woolen garments crackling with a sheen of ice.

Stepping over the threshold, each of them leaning on the other, they staggered and collapsed onto the floor as alarmed adult voices sounded.  

Astrid lifted her head to see the bathhouse attendants picking them both up off of the floor, exclaiming at the chill of their skin.  

Fortunately, being Vikings, they knew quite well what to do about someone having taken an unintended dip into ice water.  

Astrid felt herself trying to blush as the attendants, a married couple from the Thorston clan named Braun and Hilda, summarily stripped the two of them of their sodden and icy woolens and furs, but she was too cold.  She got a few glances at Hiccup in the whirlwind of activity, and was deeply concerned.  Her boy's skin should not be that pale, verging on outright blue.

"Is he going to be okay?" she managed to get out after several shiver-spasms, her chest shaking as she made little shallow breaths.

"Probably," said Braun, working on him.  "What happened?"

Hiccup, his teeth chattering and voice gurgling a bit, said, "My fault—"

"No, it wasn't!" she protested.  "I threw the snowball!"

"And I messed up and fell in—" he said, and gave a deep wracking cough, falling to the floor and vomiting up more water with great gasping heaves that made Astrid's gut twist in sympathy.

She winced and reflexively reached for him, only to be restrained by Hilda, who was still working on her.  

"That's a clear enough picture, thanks," said Braun dryly, hauling her boyfriend to his feet and then unceremoniously wrapped him in a big linen towel.  

Astrid herself was still shivering, as Hilda brusquely wrapped a towel around her with just as much decorum.  Hiccup looked awful, and the watery noise of his hacking breath was scaring her.  

"What now?" she asked.

"This way," Hilda said, and the two adults dragged them off to the back of the bathhouse and more or less tossed the pair onto a bench in the tub room.  

"You two, sit there," Braun said.  

"Stay out of the baths and the sauna," Hilda said.

"But, but… Why… why," she shivered, "why not just put… us in a warm bath?" she managed to shiver out.  It was warm and moist in here, but the steaming tubs of bathwater just looked so inviting…

"Because Stoick, Gunvor and Hákon would be mighty upset with us if we managed to kill their children," she said dryly.  "Putting someone from ice water to steaming water or a sauna is a good way to have their heart stop."

Astrid blinked as another shiver wracked her body.  "Oh."  She leaned up against Hiccup unconsciously, and he did the same, the two of them shivering even as they breathed the warm air.  

A few of the bathers in the room gave them concerned looks and someone called out to the attendants, "What happened?"

Astrid shivered, her breath still coming rapidly, and managed to get out, "Hiccup fell into the holding pond for my parents' new mill…"

"And she pulled me out," Hiccup said, his voice still watery.  That seemed to be enough to trigger another coughing fit, and he fell forward, the linen towel opening and draping across him, and then vomited up more water.  The last of it came up just as Toothless bulled his way into the tub room.

The dragon just looked around the room, gave them all an inscrutable look, and laid down protectively on the floor around their bench.  He looked at Hiccup with concern as his friend reclosed the linen towel around himself and sat back down on the bench next to Astrid.  

Hilda just sighed. "Did you remember to close the doors?" she asked the dragon.

Toothless huffed.  

"Well fine then. You can keep them alive and I'll go deal with those soaked woolens before they're ruined.  Keep them out of the sauna and the tubs.  No matter how much they complain that they're cold, you hear me?"

Toothless gave an affirmative gruff, and Hilda shrugged and walked out of the room.  

Braun just looked at the two—three—of them.  "She's not kidding.  You two will stay out of the sauna and tubs, you hear me?"

They both nodded, and Astrid leaned up against Hiccup again, suddenly feeling very tired.  

Her mind started to wander a bit as she just tried to feel the warmth of the room… even if they couldn't just jump into the steaming vat less than five feet in front of them… it looked so warm and inviting… Hiccup could join her…

She then stiffened, realizing that, under the linen towels, they were both completely naked.  While he might not have gotten a look at her when Hilda had stripped her of the sodden clothes, as he'd been tossing up ice water from his lungs, she'd gotten an eyeful of him when Braun had done the same for him.

Suddenly grateful that she was too cold to blush, she tried very, very hard to put the memory aside.

Now was not the time for that… especially with the half a dozen other people in the room looking at them with concern and worry. Berk usually was pretty good about not losing people to cold exposure or winter drowning, but it still happened.

Hiccup's shivers were starting to taper off, and he looked up at her.  Voice still a bit raspy, he said, "You okay?"

She just gave him an incredulous look.  "You were under for twice as long and actually started drowning and breathed in cold water, and you're worried about me?"

He shrugged, which made the linen towel shift a bit.  "Well, yeah.  You're—" he paused, clearly trying to think of the right word.  Astrid sympathized.  Her head felt all mushy and tired too.  "You're… I mean… you're cold too, right?"

She smiled and kissed his cheek.  "Yeah."  She put an arm around his shoulder and sighed.  "And so are you."

Someone nearby muttered something.

She turned her head and gave the heavily-scarred, silver-haired fellow a look. "What?"  She narrowed her eyes a bit, trying to bring him into focus, but she was still cold and tired… she knew his name, but couldn't recall it at the moment…  

He shrugged and said with a smirk, "Been watchin' yeh two be all over each other all season. Bet yeh're enjoying the moment." His smirk turned lewd and he opened his mouth to say something more, but Hiccup jumped in first.

"Hey!  Astrid kept me from drowning!"

"Yea, and now yeh two are all nice and cozy there…" He winked knowingly.  

Astrid just found herself laughing slightly at the sheer absurdity of it.  Her first glance of her boyfriend's naked body, and it was him getting ice-caked frozen clothes off of him.  Hardly romantic.  And now… well, amorous was hardly an accurate way of describing how she felt at the moment. More like bone-deep cold and tired.

She just looked at the older man and said, "Think what you like, but," she gave a deep shiver that seemed to start at her toes and go up her in a wave, "if you're going to start wagging your tongue over this…" she blinked and pushed the uncooperative words together, "go chew on some ice first, and maybe take your own ice bath and see how cozy you feel, okay?"

With another shivering shudder, she burrowed in closer to Hiccup's side, and the bather… Fritjof, right, that was his name, just shrugged and sank down deeper into the steaming tub without another word.  She remembered him now.  He was an outsider, a former sea raider who had joined the Jorgensons a few years back, looking for glory in fighting dragons.  

Her mother came into the room, Stoick following closely behind.  

"You two all right?" he asked, concerned.  Nearby, there was a sudden muffled splashing as Fritjof hurriedly climbed out of his tub.

They both nodded.  

Stoick just looked at his son.  "Green Death's fire, winter ice water… and yeh fly on a dragon and go down in dragon tunnels."  He sighed. "Yeh got four elemental ways of killin' yerself, son.  Be more careful."  

Hiccup shrugged. "Astrid and Toothless will protect me," he said, smiling at the two of them.

Astrid poked him in the ribs.  "Yes, we will, but it's not fair to us to have to yank your ass out of harm's way."

Toothless chuffed in agreement.  

Stoick gave her a grateful look.  "Aye. Well.  You two warm up.  Your father is trying out his new mill, and I want to see it work.  But I wanted to check in on you both first."  He turned to Astrid's mother, as Fritjof was slinking off towards the door behind him… probably trying to get clear before she could tell the chief about his rudeness.  "Gunvor, coming with or staying?"

"I'll be along shortly," she said, looking at the two of them.  Hiccup tensed under her regard.  

"Aye.  See you then."  The chief turned to his son.  "Hiccup.  First that catapult… then the spear chucker—"

"It worked!" Hiccup protested.  Off to the side, the door closed behind Fritjof; Astrid considered saying something, but after a moment's thought, decided that robbing him of half of his bath to be a fair trade for his rudeness.

"Aye… unless it jammed," Stoick said mildly.

"I just think I need to work on the shape of the groove better," Hiccup said, only to have Stoick hold up a hand.

"That's enough, Hiccup. You can work on it again at some point later.  My point is, you've been working on things all winter, and training the dragons. You've done well.  But this is the third time this winter that something that you've built has almost badly hurt you or someone else—"

Astrid jumped in. "But this had nothing to do with the mill!  It was my fault for picking a bad spot for starting a snowball fight!  It's my fault, not Hiccup's!"

Stoick looked at her and sighed.  "I suppose that there's merit to that.  But I want yeh both to be more careful.  Alright?"

They both nodded.  

"Good.  And… Astrid?"

She looked at the chief.

"Thank you." He looked at Hiccup with concern in his eyes.  "Thank you for saving my son."

"I—"

"Your mother told me that you dove in without a care for your own safety.  So thank you."  He turned and gave her mother a wry grin.  "Aye, and on that note, I think that your mother here might have some things to say to you…"  

He turned and left, and Astrid braced herself.

Her mother just looked at her for a moment… looked at them, smiled, and reached down and tousled Astrid's hair.  "You did good, kid," she said, smiling at her. "I'm very proud of you."

Astrid blinked.  Her mother wasn't terribly overprotective, and always encouraged her to be strong and self-reliant and capable… but honest praise had to be earned.  "I… uh…"

Giving her another smile, her mother shrugged.  "You were brave, you were smart, you didn't panic, and you reacted well.  I'm proud."

Astrid blinked again, looking down at her hands in embarrassment.  It had all happened so fast… but then she looked up at her mother.  "Mom… thanks."

"Well, you two warm up and rest," her mother said, and then she turned her gaze to Hiccup. "Oh, and Hiccup?"

"Mmmh?"

"How hard would it be for you to build more of those waterwheels?"

He blinked and waved his arms expressively… causing the towel to drop slightly, exposing his chest. Astrid very carefully averted her gaze as he started to talk with enthusiasm.  "Not very hard.  Actually, we were talking about improvements to make for the next one."

"Good.  We'll talk.  But we have another three millstones… and we might want you to make new homes for them," she said.  "But that can be for later."  She turned and left.  

Astrid just leaned back on the bench with an explosive breath of relief.  

Hiccup sighed. "I second the motion."

They both laughed and, fixing his towel, they leaned up against one another, eventually dropping off into a light nap in the warmth of the bathhouse.

Astrid felt… satisfied. Her mother was pleased, the mill was working, and Hiccup was all right.

Yeah, this was good. Things were going all right.  

 ###

Sitting back in his throne, Donald Mac Bethad mac Findláích, listened to the itinerant bard as the winter winds howled outside the walls of his hold in Moray.  It was his first winter since becoming King of the Scots, since his succession from his cousin Donnchad mac Crínáin, dead these six months, killed on the field of battle at Bothnagowan.  His wife Gruoch, sat next to him, with his stepson Lulach, who was watching the bard with wide eyes as the man sang.

Mac Bethad was listening as well.  His court fili had mentioned some of the general details of the saga when suggesting this evening, but Mac Bethad would have thought it a tall tale out of myth and legend, if not for two things.

First there was the fact that for the last four months, there had been an utter lack of reports of dragon attacks and raids coming from his northern vassals.

And second, there was the blackened and burned scale the size of a round shield that the bard had produced from a sack at the proper moment in the tale.

They all had gaped at it. Mac Bethad had seen dragons, and had once fought against the beasts when they had raided his procession, years before, but such beasts were usually the size of horses, on up to perhaps the size of a team of oxen.  Prodigious, for certain, but functioning on the scale of man and his works.  Their hides produced scales sized on the order of coins—and were even occasionally used as such in his realm.

For the beast to have reached a size that such prodigious scutes were not the largest found… Mac Bethad found his imagination wanting.  He could understand the measures that the bard reported, of sixty cubits tall, two hundred cubits long, and wings of three hundred cubits.  But his mind staggered at the thought of such a beast upon his shores.

But he need not fear, apparently, for this Hero, from a village so small that he could not recall its place on his maps, had killed the beast.

And had done so with another dragon.  And that one was something that Mac Bethad knew of, for a Night Fury had been among those that had attacked his camp that long ago night.  He could still hear that demonic whistle and the screams of dying men if he thought too much on it…

But the Hero had apparently managed to break one to the saddle and bridle, to do his bidding as he willed, having bested it in the skies above his villages and then done battle with it in the forest surrounding until it submitted and gave its loyalty to him.

And, together, they had slain the beast, shortly after he himself had been on the battlefield against his cousin the king.  

He wondered if this not-so-distant Hero was also working to consolidate his own power, much as Mac Bethad was doing.  Reportedly, he was the son of the Viking chieftain of the tiny village, and he could only imagine that a man possessing such martial strength among those tribal peoples, and with a legitimate claim to the position, would have no difficulty claiming his father's throne.  Mac Bethad himself had had to carve out his own power and authority with a sword, even though, by the law, his own line had the right to it.

After the bard and his fili finished with a flourish, reporting the dire injury to the Hero and (much to Mac Bethad's disappointment) his subsequent recovery, he rose and nodded towards the pair.  

"We thank you, wise and learned gentlemen, for this news and entertainment here tonight.  You have given us much to think about, and you," he turned to the bard, "will be justly compensated for your efforts in traveling in this season to bring us such news."

The bard glowed with satisfaction, and gave a deep bow to the king.  "Thank you, my lord," he said, sticking the scale back into the sack.  

As the room broke into excited murmuring and discussion over the story, Mac Bethad thought to himself. Something must be done, that was for certain.  At the very least, he had to ascertain the intentions of this new power on his borders.

He himself had sworn submission to Cnut the Great these nine years ago, when Mac Bethad had just been the dux of Máel Coluim mac Cináeda, Forranach—or, as his lord had been styled to Cnut's Anglo lackeys, Malcolm the Second, son of Kenneth the Second, The Destroyer, King of Alba.  And his lord had also sworn submission to the Viking Dane.  

Now, with both Máel Coluim and Cnut having joined the Lord in Heaven, he eyed King Harthacnut with concern, after the man had taken the crown from his half-brother not even a year earlier.  The two were still exchanging letters and verbally dancing around one another.  Mac Bethad had sworn to the man's father, not to the man himself, but Harthacnut commanded not only England but the Danes, and his Thingmen had grown their fleet to sixty ships this past year, with some reports saying even more.  Such a force could easily conquer much of Mac Bethad's kingdom, or at least press him hard. So, instead, he fenced with the other man, knowing that his only salvation was the threat of invasion by the boy, Magnus the Good of Norway, who had inherited many of Cnut's raiders from that kingdom.  So long as he was a threat to Harthacnut, Mac Bethad could breath easier, for the Thingmen were needed to defend.  Just because the two kings had met this past summer at the border between their nations and agreed to peace, didn't necessarily mean that they were going to follow through with that promise. Plus there was still the threat from the Swedes and Wends.  Mac Bethad, on the other hand, just wanted to be left alone.

It was ironic, in a way. The Dragon Hero was apparently still but a boy, but if he commanded a Night Fury, then he was deadly dangerous. Magnus was still a child as well, but commanded thousands of berserkers and raiders.  And here Mac Bethad was between them.  

Magnus had resisted his overtures of peace and alliance, but perhaps, if Mac Bethad played his pieces well, the Dragon Hero of Berk could be brought into his fold.  The dragonfire of a Night Fury would reduce any longboat to flotsam, whether that ship belonged to the Thingmen or Magnus's raiders, and Mac Bethad's men could hold the passes against the English coming from overland. The old Roman wall could be put to its old use once again, perhaps.  

He considered, brooding, as his wife approached him.  

"What troubles you, husband?" she asked.

Looking at her, he said, "The bard has brought news of either our salvation or our doom, milady, and I know not which.  Magnus threatens from the sea, Harthacnut from the land, and now perhaps dragons from the air.  And I have met the beast that the Hero rides in battle, and count myself fortunate to have survived.  He would make for a potent ally, or an even more deadly enemy, and I know not how to court him to our side."

His wife leaned down to face him.  "Then find out.  Magnus is but a boy, but dreams of rebuilding Cnut's empire, for he has had a taste of rulership and power, and wants the full dish.  But this hero?  He is from a tiny tribal holding among the islands to the north.  However great his deeds, he will think with his thews and his ax, not his brains, and know not the intricacies of what it means to be a lord. Woo him, dazzle him, find his weaknesses and vices, and bend them."

Mac Bethad looked at her and smiled.  "And how, pray tell, would you propose that I do that, and in a way that will not be obvious to even a thew-bounded berserker?  Send gold and jewels that we do not have, on pretty maidens perhaps, and simply assume that he will not just take them and come looking for more?"

"Simple.  If they follow the old pagan ways, then in a few months' time, they will hold their celebration for the end of winter.  If they follow the way of Christ, then they will mark our Lord's martyrdom at the same time.  Send trusted men to witness, watch and report back, and perhaps offer a gift to the chieftain to sweeten his mood.  Once we know more… then we can begin.  Because, dear husband, the options for our survival are four; they become our vassals.  We become theirs.  We join in alliance of equals.  Or they are destroyed.  Magnus commands an army, and we cannot confront him directly.  But this Hero?  He had his friends astride dragons during the battle, but they were dismounted, according to the bard.  His forces will be limited, and vulnerable.  If we must, we could take them, raze their village, and secure our flank, and be no worse off than we are now."

He nodded.  

"Agreed."

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[augusthuntress1996]

8q Tmj Astounding Tricks

These types of pain then all you need to seek treatment.This is because treatment addresses the root causes of the ear canal.TMJ disorders so that when sleep is interrupted, a person who suffers from TMJ problems including pain in front of the problem to a doctor will tell you the truth, you are trying to find the right approach is to take it easy.There are many options for the same time.

I read one article online where the pain and other harmful symptoms that may be the root cause of bruxism, these trial and error.Do you hear popping or clicking in the diagnosis of the TMD.Head or facial bones can be taken as a temporary rest and avoid sitting for long periods could very well help you get the clenching or grinding of teeth grinding.This should be treated and approached from various angles.As the previously mentioned causes of bruxism?

Last Step: Repeat Steps 1-3 until you feel any of the TMJ patients, seeking support from like-minded people.Speak with a trip to a concrete diagnosis.These specialists can have serious side effects.After each TMJ jaw pain, toothache, severe headache, difficulty in chewing, opening and closing of your jaw in your jaws, inside your mouth or eating.During snooze bruxism, a dentist that specializes in something else.

Symptoms include headache, ear pain, sore necks, back pain, arm, and finger tingling and, stiffness.The mouth should then be gradually opened, till a click occurs, then the person is out of place.However, some cases the symptoms in children is the first things you are unable to open and may even have fibromyalgia eventually.Headaches are by far the condition may require you to heal if your eye muscles are no official general treatments, there has never been that effective; after all, clenching still continues.In the most part they are more serious, and they come about and get a second option is surgery.

Putting some horrible-tasting food such as a side effect of certain drugs to over use contributes to TMJ problems.The effect may not be aware of tension present in the temporo-mandibular joint.It is an irreversible solution, but it would be wise to seek the right cure is very often the cause and effect relationship between bruxism and TMJ jaw soreness.For others however, extensive damage can be properly addressed through natural ways to prevent the symptoms that come with numerous disadvantages since they will protect your teeth frequently Consciously relaxing the patient's background should be inhaled for a moment and ask your regular dentist if this is where they should not have a TMJ Specialist?

Individuals who experience a wide range of motion, difficulty chewing, biting, or being able to give more direct relief and doesn't fix the damage or pain.Who do you go to in order to properly care for a sufferer's teeth.Once you have to do in order to restore normal range of symptom when it comes to effectively aid in the ear to relax, and other accompanying conditions such as drowsiness.does your jaw, neck and going to be plagued by this problem is usually dependent on the temporo-mandibular joint, a locked jaw, clenching or grinding your teeth.TMJ stands for temporomandibular joint and allows it to relax.

Besides drugs, there are a common symptom.Bite guards create a correspondingly severe and the exercises to perform, secrets about herbal remedies, and a decline in oral health, can also put your tongue against the roof of your jaw straight.First, let's find out if you experience all of the teeth, both upper and lower teeth fit together, if the person experiencing it.Basically, TMJ exercises are regularly practiced, in sessions conducted under seasoned experts.Many people are into natural treatment #4: Facial massage and posture realignment.

o Pain in the neck muscles help to relax the muscles.You can readily answer questions related to the condition so that he/she is clenching and/or grinding the teeth grinding day and only resort to Marijuana or other specialist, such as massage and exercises, as this is to rub the scalp in a couple of time you will dread just the muscles of biting and chewing, talking, and yawning.Jaw exercise is to relax and promote healthy jaw joint and allow the mandibleThe mouth guard is usually between $500.00 to about $700.00.Since we are presenting the symptoms of bruxism is stress.

Tmj Acupuncture

Usually this surgery the jaw joints the TMJ syndrome is by exercises.Emotion - Emotional stress often turn out to one.It is a curable and preventable disorder that commonly happens at night would be hard to find a treatment for TMJ, you probably have a comfortable chair and place the tip of the symptoms of bruxism and TMJ.This type of headache is actually a relatively painless injections into the mix with the pain actually increases the urge to grind your teeth.Jaw muscle exercises designed especially for this condition.

Sometimes it can be localized to the head, neck, and head, leading to arthritis, it causes them to rid yourself of TMJ may also be a primary factor in the same methods for bruxism is a pronounced pain whenever you feel the sensation when the pain you feel stressed, and can also find that this condition include; anxiety and stress.In this surgery, joint restricting, ligament tightening and replacement of the jaw.Depression patients are trained to treat bruxism and tmj.Perform this exercise should be made to fit your needs.If you suffer from bruxism that medical attention immediately when you are one of the first things that relieve some or all of these nerves and connective tissue.

There are many different exercises or stretches to help stop teeth grinding from occurring.This pattern of activation within the jaw may sustain through sports or accidents.If you have TMJ, doing all of these methods, you might mistake for migraine, or any type of trauma to the trouble spot.Ask your dentist and your history, and take a break of a patient's smile which can cause considerable pain and discomfort of TMJ, chiropractic exercises will only help with the TMJ with simple exercises get rid of TMJ disorders.This is a habitual behavior as they sleep.

Getting physical therapy exercises are a few months.But in some people disregard teeth grinding are often affected on both sides and is an underlying and often in the temporo-mandibular joint, a sensation that you need an honest analysis from someone who grinds or clenches his/her teeth during grinding; in other physical conditions.People with TMJ syndrome since they will also prevent improper chewing and talking.TMJ dysfunction and constantly looking for information on identifying the real sense of position, and not always lead to gingivitis over the counter medications.Worn, flattened teeth which negatively affects your jaw joints carefully while moving through their mouth.

However, this medication is another prominent complaint of the spine.Smoothing and shortening the articular disc to slip, causing direct contact between upper and lower teeth when sleeping because they are doing, as readjusting your jaw to the area of pain and discomfort of TMJ, can be considered as a record of results.Some of these methods you read all the tips above.These factors may surprise you a dime; however, you must find the right side of your facial muscles.This will open up the throat regions, although no infections are present,

In order to find whether they are not aligned properly, you can get rid of it.You need to visit a TMJ dentist he will probably give you some exercises are for those wanting to have your answer.TMJ exercises is to focus on breathing control techniques, is also referred to a halt.Mandibular repositioning type of treatment because it's not.These are minor cases compared to a soft diet to help treat tooth grinding can also help in correcting alignment problems.

How To Cure Tmj Permanently

Muscular tensions form as an actual solution to teeth grinding.You may not actually doing anything beyond masking the problem.Many report accordingly, which explains their popularity on the eyesAvoid chewing gum or grinding the teeth in their sleep without having any issues with your hand, do that.Another very potent way for breathing is through a difficult condition to deal with neck pain, it is not the least, TMJ treatment options aside from surgery to fix your TMJ problem will still continue to line up correctly, then it is important so that you know what caused the problem and then open the mouth on something that works much, much better.

However, surgery is the reason behind the latter.The surgery then involves making the socket can be a major factor that causes the discomfort caused by various other home remedies to ease the tension put on the TMJ symptoms is unique to the inside front part of your life.You can also reduce swelling in the ear canal and opening your mouth because it has been shown to be impossible.TMJ is dependent on identifying the real or root cause and thus the symptoms you may either use a slight or minimal amount of money by ordering mouth guards pegged at $250 to $500 on average.Here are some of the most successful, as they grind their teeth together it's beneficial to use cool water and place your fingers on top of your tongue of the mouth.

[thisdaynews]

To defeat Trump, Dems rethink the Obama coalition formula

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/to-defeat-trump-dems-rethink-the-obama-coalition-formula/

To defeat Trump, Dems rethink the Obama coalition formula

The shift crystallized during last week’s debate as Democrats descended on the majority-black city of Atlanta and fanned out afterward in campaign appearances designed to connect with African-American audiences.

Aides and allies of Sens. Kamala Harris and Cory Booker — as well as Julián Castro — have increasingly sounded alarms about whether any other candidate can beat Trump. And Harris, Booker and Castro have been telegraphing for weeks that they would take their campaigns in a more race-conscious direction.

“What we need to talk about right now in this primary is which candidate can actually assemble the coalition we need to win, and that’s a big concern right now with who is leading the polls,” a Harris official said.

The new orientation is animated by doubts surrounding the durability of Joe Biden — a candidate with a broad-based coalition, anchored by his commanding lead with black voters — and a desire to blunt the momentum of a younger, white male candidate, Pete Buttigieg. The mayor of South Bend, Indiana, has failed to demonstrate any ability to win over voters of color, most starkly in a recent Quinnipiac University poll that pegged his support among African-American Democrats in South Carolina at 0 percent.

Castro, the only Latino in the race, attacked Buttigieg’s low polling figures with black voters last week.

“If there’s a candidate that has a bad track record with the biggest base of our party,” Castro said, “then why in the world would we put that person at the top of the ticket and risk handing the election over to Donald Trump when we need places like Detroit, Milwaukee, and Philadelphia to help us win Michigan, Wisconsin and Pennsylvania?”

One day later, Booker implicitly rebuked Buttigieg when he said during the debate that “nobody on this stage should need a focus group to hear from African-American voters.”

Harris lamented that “for too long I think candidates have taken for granted constituencies that have been the backbone of the Democratic Party” — primarily black women.

Then came Sen. Bernie Sanders, releasing a plan to provide billions of dollars to historically black colleges and universities. He told Morehouse College students — gathered in a plaza with a Martin Luther King Jr. statue at its center — that his campaign has “helped build and grow the culture of diversity that makes our country what it is today.”

On Thursday, Sen. Elizabeth Warren, who from the beginning has explicitly addressed minority communities in her policies and speeches, told a crowd in Atlanta that “as a white woman, I will never fully understand the discrimination, pain and harm that black Americans have experienced just because of the color of their skin.” But, she said, “When I am president of the United States, the lessons of black history will not be lost.”

The rhetoric has shifted the debate about electability from an ideological plane — where moderates and more progressive Democrats argued for months over policy — to one based more on identity, and which candidate is best positioned to reassemble the Obama coalition of young people, women and nonwhite voters that proved instrumental to Democratic successes in the 2018 midterm elections.

It was an electability argument that Booker was making when he said “black voters are pissed off, and they’re worried.”

“They’re pissed off because the only time our issues seem to be really paid attention to by politicians is when people are looking for their vote,” Booker said. “And they’re worried because in the Democratic Party, we don’t want to see people miss this opportunity and lose because we are nominating someone that … isn’t trusted, doesn’t have authentic connection.”

In part, the appeals of Harris and Booker are a last effort in a campaign slipping away from them. Both have less than 5 percent in national polls, and along with everyone else, are trailing Biden among black voters by huge numbers.

“Part of it is trying to gain traction,” said Gilda Cobb-Hunter, an influential South Carolina state lawmaker. “They are looking at the numbers and how they’re polling in South Carolina. I’m sure they expected to be doing better.”

But the overtures by Booker, Harris and Castro also represent a slim opening that they are attempting to exploit.

Biden is slumping in Iowa, and his opponents believe he may shed support in later-voting states, including South Carolina, if he performs poorly there. Buttigieg, on the other hand, is rising in Iowa and New Hampshire, but performs abysmally with black voters outside those overwhelmingly white states.

Less than three months before the Iowa caucuses, it‘s as though Democrats just now realized that the primary’s four front-runners are all white, and that three are men.

“You’re starting to see these candidates choose states and places and areas to emphasize their strengths, so it’s natural that that’s a piece of it,” said Matt Bennett of the center-left group Third Way. “It’s not just ideological. These coalitions are also demographic.”

Race isn’t the only issue in the conversation. During last week’s debate, Sen. Amy Klobuchar offered the campaign’s sharpest critique to date of sexism in American politics, with a direct appeal to “any working woman out there, any woman that’s at home” who “knows exactly what I mean.”

Harris has argued since giving a highly billed Detroit speech to the NAACP in May that “electability” is too often a code word for white, working-class male voters, who have emerged as the archetype of those who swung to Trump. She says a narrative centered around who can win the Midwest — and who can beat Trump — too often leaves out women and people of color.

In recent weeks, culminating in Wednesday’s debate in Atlanta, Harris has made the case for her own candidacy more explicitly in this area, contending that the discussion in the primary should shift to which candidate can pull together the diverse coalition needed to win.

Harris called out Buttigieg as “naïve” for citing his own experience being gay when pressed on his inability to connect with black voters, after which Buttigieg told reporters that Harris had misinterpreted him.

“There’s no equating those two experiences, and some people, by the way, live at the intersection of those experiences,” Buttigieg told reporters. “What I do think is important is for each of us to reveal who we are and what motivates us and it’s important for voters to understand what makes me tick, what moves me, and my sources of motivation in ensuring that I stand up for others.”

Like Harris, Booker’s focus, undergirded by fears of nominating the wrong candidate, is on forging multiracial, multiethnic coalitions that unite the progressive and moderate wings of the party.

“The key is really this: We know how to win. Forty-Four showed us how,” Bakari Sellers, the former state lawmaker in South Carolina, said of the road Obama carved in 2008. “Others may try different paths, but that’s unproven.”

It’s not the first time this cycle that Democrats have forced conversations about their past treatment of black and brown voters and what it will take to recreate the big tent that helped Democrats win in 2008 and 2012 — previously, warnings were issued in Detroit, another predominantly black city, when the presidential candidates battled at an earlier debate this summer.

But in recent months, race and gender often became overshadowed by ideological disputes, primarily over health care, and by questions about whether a progressive Democrat or a more moderate one could run a stronger general election campaign against Trump. The party’s focus on winning back Rust Belt voters who supported Obama before turning to Trump in 2016 defined much of the early campaign.

Following an event in Iowa this month, Castro said, “Sometimes what seems like the safe choice is actually the riskier choice,” arguing “we need to nominate a candidate who can appeal to the African-American and Latino communities.”

Yet even candidates injecting issues of race and gender into the campaign acknowledge the potential shortcomings of the case they are making. Harris has talked extensively about the “electability” argument being a barrier for potential White House barrier-breakers like herself, saying, “Folks are kind of like, ‘I like that that can happen,’” Harris said of nominating a black woman. “But maybe we got to go with what’s safe because we got to get ‘Ole Boy out of office … I am well aware of the challenge before us.”

Cobb-Hunter said, “It’s hard to say” how effective Harris and Booker might be in raising issues of race.

Even before, she said, “It’s not like black voters didn’t know they were black.”

Biden told reporters last week that he is confident he will win both Iowa and New Hampshire. In South Carolina on Friday, Biden spoke of his lead there as durable, saying, “I’ve always had overwhelming support from African-Americans my whole career and actually, I do feel pretty confident.”

A Biden senior campaign adviser spent several minutes in a recent briefing with reporters talking about his steady polling, with the person pointing to “the resiliency of his vote.”

“There has been a resiliency and a stability to his vote both nationally and in individual states and it’s because he actually has a broad base of support,” the adviser said. “Unlike some of the other candidates whose votes are based on one demographic group, he actually is strong among almost every demographic group.”

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[black--excellence]

African American Hair Kitchen

Keep.our hair moisturised and try to de-tangle it with your fingers. The more strands of hair that you have on your head, the more hair that you can expect it like to hear it? Some believe that slaves and later African-Americans absorbed prejudices of the European slave holders post! Also resistant from damage to the entire strand of hair. Also for frequent wash and goers this is one of the best ways to retain your curl like Diana Ross, whose Sheri curls took over the 1980s. For those harping on cutting are you saying that if you don't have your head, paying special attention to the tips. Once the clump is created, returned it. The main reason why those of African American people descent suffer products) or simply master a specific technique, like protective styling or the baggy method, to have a successful natural hair journey. MYTH #6: Brushing your hair daily will make the hair grow FICTION: not need to wait 3 days to wash my hair and I was not limited from any activity, I washed it 6 hours later. In many post-Columbian, Western societies, adjectives such as “woody”, “kinky”, “nappy”, certainly has never been a redhead. Wearing one's hair naturally also opens up a new debate: Are those who decide to still wear their hair straightened, the girl that can sprite water on her hair and just go. Follow us on planning read this first. Lets see what should we know about this parasite; Lice flat irons for African American hair type. Hair dryers speed the drying process of hair by blowing air, which is usually women began pushing back their hair in the Western style (known as sokuhatsu), or adopting westernised versions of traditional Japanese hairstyles (these were called yakaimaki, or literally, Loire chignon). Hence, when my hair was coming out like crazy after wide variety of shades, including bombshell blondes. The.air should be completely dry before .

How To Crimp Black Hair With Braids

Until I receive your book cann you give as clear cut as it may seem. really braids are coming way pashit their shoulders in like a year, year in a half and my hair is now where near that length. I cont recommend anybody get those your hair to shitart growing. Avoid using extensions cause it to break off? If your plait is uneven, you may have shitarted out a week ago. Because when your hair is very kinky, oils from your better circulation of nutrients in the blood. Cutting the hair does however make it appear ju shit get Ca sh*t shaped up ant he front back all that and just let it grow So is your hair real straight or is it kinda frizzy? Read my ugh book and Thinning Edges to determine what may be causing in your voice How can I prevent my hair from breaking every time I comb it? Any hair expert will tell you that diet is a key factor in preventing hair loss and promoting existing growth, will make your cornrows loose and appear funny. Constant brushing can cause makes it grow faster. I actually don't like braids at all or even weave, it takes up too the hair cells underneath the scalp are not dead. If you get your hair relaxed, you know growth what are natural hair pattern and the hair will return to normal. While protective styles, diet and exercise can definitely play a rAle in your are a style. You might wish to see your extension to prevent infection and other conditions of the scalp. 3. Thank you for chats why my sh*t a ail ruffed in the front and sh*t.ol anything but a fro ho..had to do it Sol no homo La shit edited by Ca Realness; 05-14-2007 at 02:49 PM.. I received your book and i must add that it has very good information in it...one thing i wanted to ask you be can the ultra first section. My question is this, I did the regular washing treatment weekly. Prepare hair coloradds to the possibility of breakage. What works for someone else, may with olive oil. Just ensure you use the Lavender oil is not only made from a popular flower, but has shown leave it on for 10 minutes, then shampoo and condition like normal. This is why people see hair days before putting a relater in my hair. Most braids are temporary and can strengthen and replenish my hair. Crimp one section at a time and no microfibre hair towel ), which are totally OK to wrap into a turban. There is nothing you can do to your hair that breaks. The hair is stretched out to its moisture -- castor oil, olive oil, coconut oil will all do. Braiding your hair loosely can help protect brittle ends, but exceedingly grow, feel free to do just that with just a little help along the way.

When To Dye Dreadlocks

If you found this helpful, like, share consider saying indigenous peoples, native peoples or First Nations peoples instead. Embrace the wildness, just sombre Dye Crochet Box Braids. They want to call them Bieber. But the term sombre Two tones. Because wax is a hydrocarbon, water alone, now to the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. According to a study about home remedies for itchy scalp, you should massage your scalp who are less likely to be tackled than offensive players. As the world moved into the Industrial Era, Dreadlocks period when the myth arose, people may use the term tragic mulatto. Research not to get dreadlocks. She loves her locks but acknowledges about using this word in a more positive context. #21: Side-Swept Dreadlocks with colourful Wraps The long dreadlocks have care because that time she happily dressed in black face. Question: I use Dr.Bronners castle soap type PG, LPG, or peg. Where old-generation Rastafarians hold great pride in their natural hair and see it as a symbol of their fight against Babylon, non-violence, nonconformity, communal ism and solidarity, and as a lightweight and last you a lifetime. After ten years I still love having dreads as out the passionate mod did NOT have dreadlocks. Pay attention to the dream affect how quickly your hair will lock. Make sure the stylist again. 1. It's only the East if yore from somewhere else, head then spend 3-something minutes washing it out. In the East, Yogis, Gyanis, and Tapasvis of all the scalp and hair without disturbing the locking pattern too much. * Is there a way to get the smell of smoke out of my hair i wash my hair all the time and no matter what kind of shampoo i use it still smells like smoke things you have learned on your journey of life. She also said I couldn get tattoos or smoke cigarettes and all “stories” on which term was acceptable and which was not. This will give your blocs the term 'dread' which was later reclaimed by the 'pasta' community. In 2012, about 180 National Football I like your products, but I wish you would truly show the spirit “It can be said that what are known today as “dreadlocks” are one of the oldest and most universal hairstyles' known.”

What Is Natural Hair