#i have so many appointments lately that i have to honour

[tenrose]

When I go home after work and immediately do one chore I feel unstoppable. Yes I do lie in bed for hours after that one single task, but it's not the same. It's better.

[noira-l]

Just the Two of Us

chapter summary: a nice summer day, just what you needed... why is Satoru looking at you like that?

pairing: gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader

wc: 6,6k

warnings: fluff, slightly kinda suggestive?, blind to love, slight mentioning of sexual activity, spoilers (manga, anime, movie).

author's note: a pleasent day with satoru that is definitly not in love, you are definitly just his "partner", and he definitly don't want to kiss you ;*

s.masterlist

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 '𝐖𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐛𝐫(𝐞)𝐚𝐤𝐞'

Satoru yawned with fatigue. It was his 3rd day without sleep, during these miserable days: he had pursued the curse that kept eluding him, solved the problem of the cursed object locked in the wall of the mountain, and additionally travelled half the country to find the cursed womb that was registered, to his misfortune it arrived as it hatched and he had to fight it.

All he dreamt about now, was going to bed and get some sleep.

"Why did you stop, Ijichi?" he asked, tipping his head to glance in his direction. Satoru was now on his way home, the road was getting awfully long, it was late at night, and besides, Ijichi didn't seem to be in much of a hurry.

"We have to wait for someone," he announced in a trembling voice. He still didn't know if this was a good idea, he hadn't been given official orders from above, and yet he obeyed. Satoru furrowed his brow in astonishment.

"If anyone would like to see me, have them make an appointment with my secretary, preferably after I've slept a bit. I'm not in the mood for it" he was getting weary and it was no surprise to anyone. Maybe he could get out of this car before this person arrived?

Suddenly, he heard the boot open and immediately afterwards, someone forcefully opened the door. shit, too late.

"Hello Satoru~" you said in a cheerful voice getting into the car with your backpack. You glanced at his face. "Surprised to see me?" you asked.

You knew that this nightly sneaking out could have serious consequences, but at that moment, you totally didn't give a damn.

"Quite a lot." he replied "What do I honour this visit with? Higher-ups have sent us on missions again? How wonderful" his voice was tired, but still gravelly and bored to the point of pain. Looking at him, you are unable to tell how many days he has been without sleep.

"Well not this time." you replied "We're going on holiday." you said it with a smile, as if it wasn't you at all.

"Ee- what?" he probably couldn't have been more confused. He was too tired to process it.

"You hear right." you started to pull something out of your backpack "Ijichi, to the train station!" you said it quite loudly. Gojo didn't know if he was dreaming or already hallucinating, it had been a long time since he had seen you so happy. A packet of sweets appeared in your hand, you reached out, to hand it to him with a sly smile.

Apparently that was enough to make Satoru shut up and focus his attention on something other than complaining. He was tired enough that he didn't want to pursue the subject. And your presence made him go on autopilot and not care about anything as long as you were close and full of strength.

You knew the mission was hard for him, especially as he was silent the whole way to the station, eating the sweets you had bought him. All the way from the station to the small village where you had a rented a cottage, Satoru slept, resting his head on your shoulder. When you got off, you just had to drag him with your luggage for some time, but you managed to endure it.

He really was like a child sometimes, you stated as you opened the door and threw your luggage on the floor. It took about 20 minutes before you'd got your head around everything, in which Gojo managed to slide off the couch you'd arranged him on. Fortunately, all that was left was to put him to bed, which you had done more than once, you had experience of managing him in his almost dead-sleeping state when he returned from a mission. This activity, without you being surprised, took the least amount of time. You both found yourselves in your pyjamas, snuggled together on a nice and cool bed.

----

Satoru was slightly awake, not wanting to open his eyes, he started to adjust the pillow under his head. He tried to arrange it a few times, each time it didn't work out the way he wanted this pillow doesn't arrange like the ones I bought last year.

Then it dawned on him that he wasn't in his bed. He opened his crystal blue eyes to looked around the room. It was definitely not his bedroom. He furrowed his brow, lifting himself off the pillow completely, finally connecting the dots in his head and remembering what had happened.

You took him on holiday. That much he managed to remember.

After his morning visit in toilet, he head to the kitchen, following a pleasantly sweet smell.

There you stood, in a summer dress he had never seen before, arranging various desserts and many types of sweet bread on a large, decorated tray.

"Good morning, how did you sleep?" you sensed his presence immediately, besides you also heard him going to the bathroom.

The white-haired man looked around the kitchen and the connected dining room. Everything was clean, neat, well decorated, you could feel the atmosphere of the countryside and the remoteness from the city. This house looked like one where one could truly relax.

"Well, I finally got some sleep. This chasing of curses is such a pain." he sighed straightening his limbs after sleeping.

Just then you put the trays of baked goods on the table "I'm glad, I asked my friend to buy us fresh baked goods in the morning, I didn't think he would bring so many." you giggled clearly embarrassed. That's not what I had in mind, when I asked him for variety.

Satoru sat down on a chair, crossing his legs. ''And why are we even here? Not that I'm complaining, I'm happy when my wife visits me at work and then takes me out into unfamiliar territory when I'm practically asleep...but it's not in your style."

You sighed as you poured portions of fresh juice into your glasses. He's been calling you his wife more and more lately, and you wonder if this is getting under one of his taunts.

"I've decided we need a holiday. Both of us. Away from everything for a while." you said putting your glasses on the table.

"Megumi?" he looked concerned.

"With Shoko" you answered. Satoru noded in understanding.

"Back to the topic. It's well known if we're gone for a long time, the world will come crashing down after all, so I told the higher-ups that we're just going on a weekend of well-deserved rest." Satoru started laughing, your head turned towards him.

"You're joking. They'll probably find out now by questioning Ijichi where we are." he took one of the baked goods in his hand. As soon as he bit into it a wave of flavour spread over his tongue. Wonderful.

"Well no, I payed them a visit myself." you sat down close to him, he reached for his glass at the time "I expressed my opinions on some things and said we were going on holiday." Satoru listened intently unable to believe a bit of what he was hearing. Since when did you stop being so conciliatory?

"Of course, they didn't agree at first. Stubborn, old fools." you mumble the last part "For two days of our absence, the world won't collapse, come on." you took a cupcake yourself "Besides, I said that if they tried to stop us, their walls would have a new, more hmm.. purple colour." you bit into the baked goods and he almost choked on his juice.

Are you capable of such things? Yes, you are, he knew that. He knew you enough to also know, that you avoid such solutions and consider them a last resort. Unlike him.

"I'm sick and tired of them bossing us all the time, treating us like their property. If you wanted to, you could smash them with one finger and you wouldn't even break a sweat, they know it well, and yet, we let them get on our heads too much." you drank a glass of your juice.

Satoru was still silent, his eyes glancing once at you and then another sweet roll on the tray. You're probably right, he's been more stressed lately, the pressure is overwhelming, it's taking its toll on your relationship. It spoils the blood not only for him, but also for you, who also have to deal with them when he's not around. Although it doesn't matter now, these two days should pretty much reset him, bringing him back to his open to fun and confident self.

Damn. He is indeed too serious lately.

Fortunately, here with you, he can relax and let himself be carried away by the programme you have planned for him, because he knew you had something planned. You handled such things well, unlike him. His speciality was spontaneity and unscripted decisions.

"So what's the agenda for today, sweetie?" he said while shoving another sweet roll into himself, not wanting to pursue the uncomfortable topic any further. It was his sixth roll somehow.

"I'll explain. A friend of mine is coming over in an hour or so, he's going to give us bikes and we're going to ride around, I've got a couple of spots we might like. And tomorrow we will go to the hot springs and then I have a surprise planned for you." you replied with a wide smile pleased with the plan. Gojo was happy with it too. "I want to have fun." you smiled to yourself.

"So a bike tour, huh? Just don't complain if I leave you behind or your legs hurt, we both know I'm faster." another cupcake was in his hand. who makes such yummy food?

"I have one more thing for you, a request actually."

"Hm?" he paused devouring a sweet roll to look at you. His white hair were still messy and his crystal eyes aroused, from the amount of sugar he had consumed. There was frosting from the baked goods at the corner of his mouth, and scattered crumbs on his bare chest and belly.

Does he always have to look captivating in all conditions?

"This trip is because we both need a break from our duties. And this trip is primarily for you, Satoru.'' he looked at you as if you were a freak, and it was him that the strawberry filling fell on his stomach.

"Duh~ Of course even the strongest need a break. They think this perfection keeps itself going?" he said scooping the filling from his skin with his finger, licking the contents as soon as he put his finger around his mouth.

"Please listen." you looked at him seriously "This holiday is not because 'the strongest needs a break', no." You got up from your chair and quickly walked over to the linen bag hanging on the chair, pulling something out of it and tucking it behind your back, walking over to him again. "This trip is because Satoru needs a break." you stood next to him, placing your hand on the back of the chair behind him.

Your other hand revealed a pair of round, dark, blue tinted glasses.

You both knew what those glasses were. They had belonged to him back in his high school days, the exact pair you had once taken from him during training as a trophy for beating him in melee training. Six eyes was shocked when you knocked him to the ground. You used trickery of course, but you didn't set the rules, so the prize was yours. Now he's surprised too, at how good a condition they're in, and that you kept them at all.

You found them recently in one of the boxes you were afraid to look in, because all the stuff from your dorm was there, including Suguru's stuff. But you'd been cleaning recently and decided you should finally do something with it. That's where you noticed the pair of glasses that were lying right on top. There were some other things besides, but you didn't pay any attention to them anymore. These glasses reminded you so much of the good old days, that you just stood there for a few minutes in thought, simply holding them in your hands. They reminded you of all the beautiful moments, hardships and fun you had as a teenager, even though you spent most of your time with Suguru, Gojo also fulfilled some small role in your life back then - when he wasn't teasing you - of course.

It dawned you. That's right! Fun! You closed the cabinet, taking only that item, running to your computer to start planning everything.

"So for the duration of this trip, I'd like you to be exclusively yourself. Not 'the strongest', not 'Six Eyes', not 'the greatest sorcerer of modern era'. No. Please." he parted his lips slightly, his face expressing a lot of emotion as you put your glasses on his nose.

"Just be Satoru. That's all you need to be for me." a gentle smile dawned on your face.

You glanced at him from a little further away. "Look at you, you haven't changed a bit." you brushed his hair with your hand gently. Indeed, he looked the same as he did in his school days, only his boyish features had matured over time. Those are still the same blue eyes that made you dizzy, whenever you tried to focus and glance deeply into them. You noticed something.

Why is he blushing?

Why does his face look like that?

After a long moment, in which his eyes completely failed to leave yours, he burst out laughing. He corrected himself in his chair, at the same time putting his foot back on the floor.

In one swift movement, his hands grasped your figure, making you sit sideways on his lap. His face moved dangerously close to yours, one of his hands was on your back, the other on your exposed thigh.

What is he doing?

You were surprised at how easily he was able to seat you and with what gentleness his arms embrace you. His hand moved from your thigh to his nose, as he lowered his glasses to look at you. His eyes literally scanned yours, your bewildered face beginning to take on colour, a little more and that deeply hidden blush would come out into the world.

"Only if this miserable girl from my class joins me too, heh." his shit-eating grin made you hot. Your heartbeat drowned out your thoughts for a moment.

Wait - what did he call you?

You gave him a gentle nudge, standing up from him, pouting.

"Idiot."

His retch filled the silence completely.

----

The forest through which you passed seemed endless. Beautiful colours surrounded you all over. The perfect weather only accentuated them. You drove a little uphill the mountains, sun peeking out from behind the leaves, leaving glowing glimpses on the forest road.

Satoru was riding ahead of you, not holding the steering wheel with his hands at all. His legs holding the bike frame were enough for him. You wondered if he was even looking at the road, he had his phone in his hand, playing some kind of mobile game. Occasionally he would stop with a squeal of brakes, to take a picture of what was a nicer bit of terrain. The real revelation was, when he spotted a bird playing with a stick a few good metres away; you didn't notice it, but he had his eyes and a pretty good zoom on his camera.

However, you had been on straight road for a while, so his full attention was focused on the phone. You came up with a slightly crazy idea. You made sure that your backpack and the contents of your basket were well secured, and then you started to speed up rapidly. You passed him very quickly. When you were in his line of sight, you showed him your tongue and continued your fast ride far ahead of him.

He quickly tucked the phone away, you had caught his attention enough, that he saw your haste as a challenge.

You don't know how long it took you to race him. You could say that you quite matched his pace, overtaking him every now and then, or he was gaving you a head start, there was that option too. You didn't want to let go too easily, although you were slowly running out of strength, you were glad that your cursed energy was helping a bit with that. Sometimes he tried to disturb you, for example: trying to poke your cheek, he had long enough arms to reach easily. You did not remain indebted to him, by trying to ride close enough to him, that you had to step back slightly.

This situation was no different. You overtook him again, this time quite a bit, you turned around when you noticed that he didn't manage to overtake you. His smile was the same one you remembered from the better days of your high school. His whole look was practically the same, you're sure it's a matter of those glasses.

Was he the same? It was hard to tell. You thought for a bit and stopped looking at the road.

Quickly turning your head to notice a pretty big turn. Really close to you.

“Shi-” you had already prepared for the fact that you might fall off a cliff. You already wanted to use your technique, when suddenly something pulled you back with considerable power. Your back hit something. The white-haired man pulled you towards him with the whole bike, a couple of meters away from the turn, completely stopping you in the process.

“Did you just use your blue on me?” you asked, quite shocked.

He answered you nothing and silence, you couldn't read his smile. Without a word, he rode quickly away from you gaining a murderous pace, ringing his bike bell cheerfully in the process.

----

A shadow perfectly enveloped your figures as you sat down by a tree together to rest for a while. Satoru asked for moments to pause, wearing his old glasses, while pleasant and nostalgic, put him into a slight migraine overtime. Though he didn't want to admit it to you, you knew him well enough by now to wordlessly hand him banages from his backpack with a slight smile.

He accepted the material, wrapped them around his eyes, giving him a long sigh of relief. He was truly grateful to you for understanding his needs, giving him a moment's pause whenever he needed it. He put the cloth over his eyes, closing them and trying to fight the migraine that was slowly growing inside him. He concentrated for the moment on his own thoughts, which were mainly focused on you. Were you always so caring? No wonder Megumi came to you more often with most of his needs.

The minutes passed at a fast pace, for that, his migraine refused to pass so quickly. He was replaying some memories in his head that had just flown by. He didn't even notice when he started to fall asleep, surrounded by the hum and soothing gusts of wind and the pleasant scent of nature.

----

He was awakened by a gentle nudge from something near his leg. Satoru opened his eyes and looked quickly at the scene before him. You sat down in front of him, still with the same soothing smile. When you noticed that you had woken him up by accident, you put your hand on his leg, muttering a quiet "sorry''. He noticed you were tinkering with something, by the fact that were sitting a piece away, with your back to him, he was unable to notice what, he was too sleepy for that.

Satoru took off his banages completely, depositing them in the backpack beside him, and in one efficient movement put his glasses on his nose. His migraine had stopped finally, he felt extremely relaxed and rested.

The view was beautiful, the picturesque fields and mountains seemed endless. For moments he stared at the white clouds, absorbing his six eyes with this view, waiting for you to finish working on something. Which you did literally moments later turning to face him, draping the fruit of your labour behind your back.

"I have something for you." you said. The smile wasn't coming off your face today, usually you were much more serious, thoughtful and even sometimes sad, in contrast to him, he was never serious, thoughtful or sad. At least that's what he tried to pretend. Today was different though, today he didn't have to pretend his happiness even a little bit.

"A gift. For me? You spoil me completely today." he chuckled with his confident smile, simultaneously interested in what she had prepared for him.

"Close your eyes." without thinking, he followed your command with his smile. He listened as you moved closer to him, he even felt your touch on his leg again, when you needed a gentle support. Your hands moved closer to his face. He felt something on his head, a very gentle weight, barely perceptible.

"You can open now." So he did, which was met with the sight of you taking a picture of him.

"Wait a minute, that's what you pay for! Do you know how many people want a photo with that georgous face?" he reached out to take the phone from your hands, you responded by giving the phone behind you as much as you could. This light-hearted tug-of-war didn't last long, at least not until out of the corner of his eye he noticed the screen with the photo you'd taken earlier. He moved away in amazement.

A crown of flowers? And not just any crown, you could see the craftsmanship of its creation, the blue and white flowers matched himperfectly. He also noticed, that there was another one lying next to you, with flowers perfectly matched to you.

Without thinking much, he took it in his hands and placed it on your head, just as you had done before. Satoru tried to hide the blush that appeared on his pale cheeks, again this day. For that, you hiding your blush and sweet sigh proved to be impossible. Not when your heart was suddenly beating harder, you didn't quite understand why again. Perhaps it was the fact that Satoru slid his hands along your cheeks, gently stroking them with his thumbs, gazing at you intensely with his sparkling blue eyes. You put your phone down.

Definitely Gojo Satoru was enchanted by the sight. The sight of you flushed cheeks, slightly parted lips and beautiful eyes. You are so mesmerising. The thought crossed his mind that he wanted to keep such a sight of you just for himself.

So this is what Suguru must had seen every day.

He froze, letting go of your face. You glanced at him confused.

Ah yes, one of that thoughts.

You were Suguru Geto's girlfriend in your high school days. You were his best friend's girlfriend. Totally in love with each other, inseparable, always together. Satoru remembered it perfectly. He will never get out of his memory when you came to school together, at first as friends, you and Suguru were already inseparable. He knew that you both came from the same village. It was hard not to notice how condescending, affectionate and absolutely in love with you Suguru was. At least Gojo noticed it right away, you didn't necessarily. His best friend finally dared to confess his feelings to you one day and so you became a couple. The world's most oversweetened, loved, adorable, romatic couple. The amount of this love made Satoru want to vomit. Geto mentioned more than once that he wanted to marry you right after you graduated.

Oh, how fate can be twisted.

After the incident of star plasma vessel, even you were unable to save him. He knew that you tried but failed, he is sure that you are still blaming yourself to this day. The amount of pain the raven-haired man caused both of you was indescribable.

Still, Satoru couldn't get the thought out of his head that he was somehow betraying his best friend by being with you like this. You were Suguru's girlfriend. What is he doing here with you under such circumstances?

Well, that's right - you were.

Suguru was long gone, he knew that. You hadn't been with him for a long time. He broke your heart. He knew, he wasn't coming back. And yet, out of sentiment and out of some strange sense of duty, that one conversation had brought out of him, where the raven-haired had asked him to take care of you, as if something had happened to him. Satoru seems to have taken it too much to heart: by taking care of you for years, befriending you, marrying you and falling in love.

You were his wife now.

You went on dates with others, when you hadn't yet convinced yourselves as much. Everything around you and him screamed that you had come to terms with the situation. Although it took a long time, you had succeeded. He loved him too, in a way. You, in a slightly different way, even though he rarely admits it.

How could he think you had no feelings for him? He didn't know himself. At some point, he had already stopped deceiving himself, when he glanced at the obvious evidence you had substituted for him.

Heck! You even ended up with him for your fifth anniversary. He never felt so good in his life. He is He was asbolutely in love with you, that moment and that feeling. He could be with you like that every day. He wanted to feel vulnerable again, weak and absolutely susceptible to your touch and every feeling you evoke in him.

But he couldn't. He would have fallen impetuously into your arms long ago, for all the years you spent together, for every thing you did for him and taught him. He was so grateful to you.

But...he couldn't. Every time there come situations at which his heart begins to sing, there is also an image of you and his friend together - happy, in love.

And he felt like the total garbage of a person, when he experienced similar feelings with you.

Not because of you, but because of his sense of duty and the awkwardness of the situation. If you continue, as you are now, he will find it hard to control himself. He will end up clingy again, like on your memorable anniversary, and won't be able to stop. Really funny thoughts, considering how close to each other you really are.

Satoru moved away from you, leaning against the tree again.

"Do you miss him sometimes?" You weren't able to hide your confusion when you saw how he completely changed his tone and mood in a second. He removed the crown from his head.

He had to be sure.

"Who?" you asked, not knowing what had suddenly sprung to his mind. He just sighed, looking to the side. "I don't know what you're talking about, Satoru, I'm not sitting in the inside your head." You really hoped this wasn't going to be some kind of argument, that would ruin the good vibe you were so desperate to maintain.

"Him. I'm talking about him, (Y/N)." finally the cogs in your head came together. You sign.

"Ugh, do we really need to talk about him? I don't want to spoil the good times with you." you said laying down entirely on the blanket with a disgruntled expression, you closed your eyes. "I haven't thought about him like this in years, I want to keep the streak."

A long moment of silence passed before you spoke up "..but I've been thinking a lot about you, Satoru." The corners of your mouth lifted. He needs to calm down, he's an adult now and he blushes as often as a teenager.

You lay in silence with your eyes closed, trying to chase all unnecessary thoughts out of your head, repeating to yourself that you should focus on the here and now. You're not going to change the past, there's no point living in it.

After a while you felt movement on the blanket, you opened your eyes slowly, only to see his face above you, he was leaning with one hand over you, the other stroking your cheek. His crystal blue eyes were watching you again. He ran his thumb over, hooking the corner of your lips, making you part them. Why did you even let him do such things? You had stopped asking yourself that question for some time. It seemed somehow unnecessary to you.

"I've been thinking a lot too…" his gaze focused on your parted lips and the uneven breathing that was beginning to build in you, he moved closer.

"...and what were you thinking about?" you said it so quietly that it might as well have been a whisper. You also put your hand on his cheek. Warm, you thought, and noticed too. You looked at his lips.

He pressed his thumb against your lip making you bite down slightly. His hand moved from your face, down your neck, to your collarbone, eventually ending up as a support for him, right next to your head. He was even closer.

"I think I want to keep racing with you." His nose rubbed against yours, playfully, he began smiling goofily again.

Then he rose and stood up, as if he hadn't just given you a heart attack, shaking the remnants of grass off himself while putting on his backpack.

"So, shall we go?" his tone was the same as ever, he had already started to walk towards the bike, as you continued to lie on the blanket, blushing feeling some sort of need that had built up somewhere down.

----

The day was enjoyable.

You rode a bike, took beautiful photographs, had a picnic in a large meadow full of flowers. Just the nice calming things.

Satoru was surprisingly calm until your return home. That was odd. He still radiated a smile, but it was different. Usually he was broad, sometimes arrogant and confident, at times teasing, but this one was smaller, calmer. More affectionate, as if he was smiling half-cheekedly.

His eyes did not leave your side. Which was not new to you, he has a habit of following you around like a stray cat, crying for your attention. Now, however, it was not like that. He just stared, still smiling, responding calmly. Well, maybe not always, because when you were playing Mahjong in the bedroom, he was a bit in over his head, at certain points.

"I can't understand how you win in this game." You scratched your head while glancing at the board. The white tiles were arranged in patterns.

"And I can't understand how you can cook so well. What you prepared today was delicious." he moved the tile on the board.

It was quite late in the evening. A warm summer rain was falling outside the window, irrigating the fields of crops and plants. The sound of soft bells was barely audible from where you were. The two of you were sitting in the bedroom, opposite each other, at an undersized table, drinking tea that you had brewed quite a while ago in a small, decorative teapot. It wasn't long before you had dinner; before heading home, you managed to visit a small farmers' market near the centre of town. You bought all the ingredients and made it into something from an old recipe you got from someone you knew back in middle school.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." you smiled slightly. The image of him devouring the dish you had prepared always touched your heart in some way. Especially since Satoru, never spared a comment describing the wonderfulness of the dish you had cooked.

"When we get home, please make it again, I think Megumi will be pleased too." his gaze stopped on the piece you had just selected.

"You just did a stupid thing." his voice was quite calm. You analyse a bit.

"I still don't know how to play this game." You paused for a moment from making a move to reach for the teapot and pour yourself some tea. His hands overtook you, lifting the teapot and pouring the hot liquid directly into your porcelain. You thanked him quietly, enjoying his kind gesture.

"Mahjong is a Chinese game, it's possible you might not have known it, it's not so often played in our country." He put down the teapot to the stand, returning his gaze to your face.

"I am not surprised by its presence in this house, even the porcelain we drink from comes from China. So is the owner." You glanced at his cup to see if you should pour it for him too, but the cup was almost full.

"How did you meet him?" he raised his hand to take a sip of cooling tea. You were surprised at how gracefully he does it, as if he has a habit of manners. We're talking about the same Satoru who sometimes played with his food, along with Tsumiki.

"I exorcised the curse that tormented his brother's house not far away. As a token of gratitude for saving his life, he said I could use his summer house. So I did. Although I really resisted it at first, I didn't want him to feel indebted to me. As it turned out, this is a man who feels indebted if he doesn't return the favour."

You pulled the night dressing gown tighter over your body. His blue irises fixed on the board.

"You always take care of others." he said it as if more to himself.

"It's my duty, besides, I like doing it." You lifted your cup up. He continued to stare at the white tiles on the board.

"How did you learn to play Mahjong?" you asked him, the cup clattering against the stand. He signed.

"When I was young, I played this game with one of my teachers." Satoru turned the plate in his hands, examining it from all sides.

"What was his name? What did he teach you?" the white-haired one said nothing for a long moment.

"I don't remember his name or where he came from. My teachers changed quite quickly, no one would stay to teach me for longer. My skills developed rapidly." A white plate rose up in front of his nose, began to rotate by his blue force, and he continued, "I remember him teaching me object control. In the beginning, he showed it to me on the tiles from Majhong, which is why I learned." The tile began to fall, and he caught it in flight. You began to wonder.

"Is there a teacher you particularly remember?" you wanted to find out a bit more about. It seemed pleasant to you, personal enough to get to know him at the same time, but distant enough to be safe.

"No."

"You haven't managed to build a relationship with anyone?" you asked softly, trying to catch his gaze, which was still fixed on the piece in his hand.

"No. My needs changed quite quickly, as did the people around me." he replied dryly, his uncovered eyes expressing more emotion than tone of voice.

You knew that Satoru had been pampered from a young age, spoilt, honoured, he had been so special that everyone had done everything possible to ensure he was looked after in the best possible way.

You were at the headquarters of his clan, you experienced the assessing gaze that measured your worth equally with your strength level. Satoru had the most of it.

You knew he had had a difficult childhood, it wasn't hard to guess. What you sometimes managed to forget through his playful and confident nature, was how lonely he was from the start. You weren't surprised at how much he was affected by his best friend leaving. And now, despite this knowledge, you shouldn't be surprised that he doesn't bond with most of the people he's met. Since he had always been put on a pedestal, it was hard for him to look for commonalities in people or look at their worth, regardless of strength. You experienced this yourself from his side. After spending years with him, you are able to conclude that he has changed that a bit in himself. This does not change the fact that it came with great effort on his part. He is a diffrent man, but still alone with his strenght.

"It must have been lonely." voice betrayed your thoughts, as did the compassion that slipped from your gaze.

Satoru rose from his seat. Instinctively, you reached out to grab him. Afraid that you somehow hurt him. You said something wrong, didn't you? You didn't manage to grab his hand, you were already about to start apologising to him, but he circled the table and found himself sitting on the floor, close to you, hugging you and pressing your head against his chest.

"Satoru? What are you doing?" you lifted your gaze to find his eyes staring at you.

"You said that when you are sad, sometimes instead of saying something I should hug you." his voice was so sincere, open in a way. You smiled slightly, surprised that he didn't understand.

"That wasn't…" he pressed you tighter against him, suppressing your urge to correct what you meant. You embraced him too, putting your arms around his waist and laying your head on his shoulder. You chuckled.

It finally clicked in your head why he did what he did. You couldn't hold back a smile.

You laughed in your soul, at how often you wonder if his touch is typically friendly, caused by years spent together, or if there is something more behind it. Knowing that his touch sometimes put you in a palette of different emotions.

Constantly reminding yourself that by definition you are friends, nothing more, was becoming increasingly difficult for you. Maybe because it was becoming more and more of a lie. At least on your part, you no longer knew how to look at him as a person with whom you only shared a bed and goals. You no longer knew, how to look at him other than as your partner. Hiding it often worked out terribly for you, so you stopped. You didn't want to hold yourself back anymore.

That was your situation. You knew Satoru wasn't the best at expressing his feelings. Often in difficult situations, he falls silent, doesn't know what to do, freezes in place. So you just give him time until he comes to you on his own sometimes. And when he comes, you hold him all the time, promising not to let go.

You are happy that he came to you with this kind gesture.

Even if you think his intentions are different from yours.

"If you want a hug, just do it, anytime, 'Toru." you started stroking his hair, the way he likes it best. You felt his body relax under your touch. White curls escaped through your fingers, soft and pleasant to the touch.

"I'm not surprised you're losing, your positioning is wrong. It's no fun, when you don't even know how to play." he said in his normal voice, then with an efficient movement he planted you between his legs, facing the board. He reached with his long arm for the tea cup on the other side and placed it next to yours.

He pulled you closer to the table, put his head on your shoulder and began to teach you, showing you, explaining everything. He made his movements in game using his power and you listened bravely and attentively to what he was saying. Although it was quite difficult when sometimes he nuzzled into your neck more, tickling you and distracting you with his warm breath.

That day, despite the obstacles, you learned to play Mahjong.

© noira-l 2024 | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Hi, could you write something about Sihtric rescuing a princess (Alfred's daughter) and they both falling in love for each other despite the princess is about to marry somebody else.

Princess

Pairing: Sihtric x reader

Authors note: I must admit this request is already for some time in my inbox. I really hope you are still here to read it, dear Anon. Besides that my real life is a bit demanding right now (I mean it positively), I hesitated to start writing as I thought there are already so many fics about this. But when I finally started, there was no stopping 😅.

Warnings: mention of death, violence, and murder, fluff, angst and, yeah, I got a bit horny at the end, so SMUT, 18+, loss of virginity, sad ending. I am sorry, lately I am not good at happy endings.

Word Count: 7,904

Part 2 Good wife

You were sitting by the window in your room, gazing out at the courtyard. The entire palace buzzed around reminding you a bustling anthill. It had been today as your father had announced your betrothal, and the wedding was swiftly arranged to take place within a week. Such haste was quite out of the ordinary, but there was a compelling reason behind it. Wessex was bracing itself for an impending war. Harald Bloodhair, the recently emerged Danish warlord, was gathering his forces near the borders. Each passing day new warriors were joining him, and his army already exceeded thousand men. Alfred was eager to confront him before his army grew even stronger, but he needed allies. Wessex alone couldn’t bring up the sheer number of skilled and trained warriors necessary for the confrontation.

Lord Ethelwold, one of the wealthiest nobles in East Anglia, had long harboured intentions of marriage with you, but Alfred had thus far deemed him an unsuitable match for his youngest daughter. Lord Ethelwold was notorious for his lack of restrain when it came to drinking and whoring. He was arrogant, reckless, and rude, but he was wealthy, and he had men. His household troops alone numbered around three hundred men, but he could rise much more by rallying his vassals. The shift in circumstances had prompted a swift change in your father’s stance. The decision about your betrothal to Lord Ethelwold had been taken without hesitation and the revelation of it reached you on the very day it was announced in the church—namely, today.

You heard a gentle cough from behind, and a familiar voice greeted you “Good evening, Lady.”

Startled from your reverie, you turned your head slowly and discovered Sihtric standing there.

“I apologize if I have disturbed you. I simply wanted to inform you that I shall be on watch this night,” the soft yet resolute tone of your guardian angel’s voice brought a faint smile appear on your lips.

Sihtric had assumed the role of your bodyguard for the past two months shortly after Alfred's spies had confirmed the lingering rumours—namely, that Bloodhair had dispatched a bunch of warriors to Winchester with a cunning plan to abduct a hostage from the royal family. That was when you had first encountered Sihtric, one of Lord Uhtred’s most trusted warriors and a Dane himself. He had been appointed to ensure your safety, along with several other warriors sent by their respective lords at Alfred’s demand to provide protection for all members of the royal family. It was impossible not to notice the tall, robust, and muscular warrior with his black, curly hair braided on the top, but falling to his shoulders in the back. His strong jawline, scars tracing his forehead and right cheek and the intensity in his big, mismatched eyes created an indelible impression. A captivating mixture of confidence, calmness and strength emanated from him. You caught yourself thinking that if your life were indeed under genuine threat, you would undoubtedly prefer him by your side. There was an undeniable aura of reassurance surrounding him as he bowed and extended his greeting in that gentle yet unwavering voice of his: “My, Lady, the honour is mine.”

From that day onward, you were consistently accompanied by at least one of the guards, and during the night a sentry always stood watch by your chamber’s door.

To say the least, you found little enjoyment in this new arrangement. It was a nuisance and an additional burden, further restricting your already circumscribed life as a princess. You were not allowed to move around freely anymore. The guards frequently denied your requests to visit certain places if they deemed this too dangerous. While it was undoubtedly much easier to ensure your safety within the secure walls of the palace, this had inadvertently made you a prisoner in your own home. To you the guards were simply your prison warders, with one strange exception – Sihtric.

The calm and composed Dane appeared to be the only one to understand how you felt practically locked up in the palace. You quickly noticed that the other guards and even the servants regarded him with suspicion, sometimes even with feud. However, it seemed not to bother the young warrior who did not let his demeanor falter at the strange and suspicious glances others were casting at him. You were curious beyond borders about him, particularly since you had never seen a Danish warrior before. Yet you couldn’t deny that he had somewhat intimidating effect on you, especially considering all the different tales you had heard about Danes and their heathen ways. You had expected him to be harsh, surly, perhaps ill-tempered, or even rude and insolent. Instead, you found yourself profoundly taken aback by his gentle, respectful and humble comportment in your presence.

It was Sihtric who willingly joined you on your journey to your cherished spot by the river, where you enjoyed reading while he patiently leaned against a tree, waiting. He didn’t object when you desired to gather flowers from the meadow, and what was even more important, he agreed when you asked him to accompany you to the small orphanage maintained by the Convent of St. Cuthbert’s Sisters. This was a place you used to visit quite often before. You went there to see the children, to read something to them, to play and sing with them. This was a part of your life you were absolutely unwilling to give up. The children's bright eyes would light up upon your arrival, and their fondness for you was evident as they clung to your dress and hands, eagerly awaiting the small toys you always brought or the captivating tales you told them. It was something that filled you with deep joy as you felt needed and loved.

All your other guards had staunchly opposed your visits. The narrow street leading to the orphanage was obscured by barrels, hay bales, and other stuff. It was hidden from the sight of the patrolling guards overseeing the marketplace and the entrance to the palace. It was a perfect place for an ambush, they had explained to you, when you tried to insist. Yet, you kept asking, hoping that someone would consent to your heartfelt request. Then it was finally Sihtric’s turn to accompany you from the church to the palace and you silently prayed that he would understand you as he had done already before.

“There’s an orphanage just around the corner behind the church. It would mean a great deal to me if you would accompany me there,” you asked with a slightly trembling voice as this was apparently your last chance.

“An orphanage? The Lady wishes to visit an orphanage?” Sihtric's gaze held a mixture of surprise and inquiry, his raised eyebrows signalling his astonishment at your request.

“Yes, please. Would you come with me?” there was something in your voice that drew Sihtric’s attention–the pleading tone, suggesting how important it was for you. Curiosity piqued him as he wondered why a princess would want to visit an orphanage, so he nodded and followed you to the narrow street.

You spent what felt like two or more hours there. The children's joy at your presence was palpable, and you couldn't bring yourself to depart earlier. You had brought two small wooden toys – a horse and a warrior and you played with the children and told them stories about how knights in shiny armour fought dragons and rescued princesses in the past days. They were dirty, their clothes nothing more than rags, but that did not stop you from embracing them and cradling the smallest among them on your lap.

You laughed with them and sang with them and when it was finally time to leave, tears shimmered in your eyes. The sisters were doing their best to provide the children with shelter and meal, but there was never enough silver for that. To ease their burden, you contributed as much as you could spare. One might assume that being a princess meant being rich, but in truth you did not have your own silver and needed to seek your father’s approval for any expenditure.

Throughout your visit, Sihtric leaned against the door frame, his gaze fixed upon you with an intensity that, at times, made you slightly uncomfortable. However, you were deeply grateful that he had granted you this moment of joy.

“That was very kind of you,” you thanked him as you both returned to the palace and ascended toward your quarters.

Sihtric raised an eyebrow, a touch of surprise in his gaze as he regarded you.

“You are the first among the guards who allowed me to go there,” you explained, “But I truly miss the children… and…” you hesitated unsure how to approach him with your next request, fearing he would reject it as too dangerous.

“Would you mind accompanying me to visit the children more often? You’ve seen them–you must understand…” you struggled to find the right words to explain the depth of your feelings, but you did not need to. Sihtric's gaze held an understanding that needed no words.

“Lady, I would be delighted to accompany you,” he nodded, his eyes filled with warmth. To your surprise he arranged for himself to be your companion on every Saturday and Sunday, attending the morning sermons and thereafter visiting the orphanage.

Following another Sunday morning sermon, Sihtric walked alongside you as you turned onto the narrow street behind the church. You should have known that something was wrong from the very first steps—the children's usually audible voices were conspicuously absent today, but even if you were oblivious of the threat, Sihtric instantly noticed the change. Without warning his hand took hold of yours, slowing down your pace.

“Lady, we need to turn back,” he whispered urgently.

“What? Why? No, Sihtric, we can’t, you know…” you couldn’t finish your saying as suddenly a figure sprang before you from the rooftop of a nearby building with an unsheathed sword in the hand. Sihtric instantly shielded you, pulling behind him.

The man raised his sword and lunged towards Sihtric with a loud shout, but Sihtric had already anticipated his move. Stepping aside, he evaded the strike, causing the man’s sword to go down meeting no resistance. The man stumbled slightly, but that was enough for Sihtric. Seizing the moment and using his loss of balance, Sihtric’s hand closed around the man’s throat, while his other hand swiftly drew his dagger, fastened to his back. In a heartbeat the man dropped to his knees, chocking, his both hands pressed at his throat in a futile attempt to stop the gushing blood. You screamed in fear, and, in the next moment, more men materialised from the shadows of the small houses. Sihtric positioned himself again protectively in front of you.

“Lady, please remain behind me, I will protect you. Don’t run, as I don’t know how many men might be waiting further down the street,” his voice exuded a calm certainty that was both reassuring and astonishing. To your surprise you felt your breathing steadying and the dread that had already almost completely consumed you receding.

The subsequent events remained a fragmented blur in your memory. The men lunged at Sihtric, their weapons drawn, stabbing, chopping, and shouting incomprehensibly. It seemed to you that the time has slowed down as you watched how Sihtric danced around them parrying their attacks, kicking at them with his heavy boots, throwing them to the ground and chopping at them with his battle axe. In the blink of an eye, it was over. Sihtric turned to you, his face, armour, and hands stained with blood, as he took a step closer, concern etched into his features.

"Lady, are you unharmed? Are you injured?Please, speak to me!" he inquired, but you just stood there immobilized, eyes widened in sheer horror, gazing upon the lifeless forms strewn upon the street, blood pooling around them. It seemed to you that there was blood everywhere. You shivered, you wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. An eerie chill coursed through your body, rendering you frozen, uncapable to move, consumed by an overwhelming sense of dread. You felt Sihtric grabbing your hand, and as you still did not show any reaction to him, his strong arms wrapped around your trembling shoulders, pulling you close to his chest.

“It is over now,” he murmured into your ear, his gentle voice nudging you back to reality, “You are safe, I promise, I will not let anything happen to you,” his soft voice slowly began to lift your paralysis, gradually rousing you from your frozen state. His rough fingers caressed your hair, anchoring you in the present moment.

“Look at me, lady! Please, look at me,” he cupped your face in his palms, lifting your head until your eyes connected, his thumb tenderly stroking your cheek. Tears welled up in your eyes and streamed down your cheeks, and Sihtric’s embrace tightened, your face pressed against to his wide chest, as you started sobbing uncontrollably, your face buried in his armour.

“Hush, hush, my little princess, my love. Everything is going to be fine,” his words resonated in your consciousness, piercing through the fog of fear, and leaving a burning sensation in your mind as you tried to grasp their meaning. You don’t know for how long you were standing there before you finally regained control over your sobs and became fully aware of your surroundings. Sihtric still held you in his strong arms, soothingly stroking your hair, whispering comforting words in your ear. Suddenly, a profound sense of safety enveloped you, and as your tear-streaked face turned to meet his gaze, a faint smile tugged at your lips before your legs gave way and you lost your consciousness.

-----------------------------------------------------

It all had happened exactly two days ago. It is remarkable how swiftly everything can be turned upside down. A mere day ago, you were hilarious, brimming with joy and gratitude to the fate that had brought Sihtric into your life. You were sure that without him, you wouldn’t have survived the assault. Yet, now, as you sat by your window, observing the people busying around the yard below, you wished that the kidnappers had succeeded. Anything seemed better than the prospect of marrying Ethelwold, but there was nothing you could do about it.

“Thank you, Sihtric,” you responded quietly and turned away in an attempt to hide your tears, but it was too late. Sihtric had already noticed you had been crying. His big, mismatched eyes filled with sympathy as he took a step closer.

“Lady, I regret deeply what happened. I’m sorry that you had to witness it. I assure you that you are safe now. I will not let anything happen to you,” Sihtric’s voice was filled with compassion and genuine care. His words were soft, laced with reassurance, and you found no reason to doubt him. After all, the young warrior had found a special place within your heart long before the dreadful incident.

Initially it was pure curiosity, that made you feel drawn to him, evolving into a genuine awe, that eventually grew into tender affection and sweet longing. The shift happened gradually as the thoughtful and quite warrior slowly opened to you, revealing different layers of his personality – the loyalty, the warmth, the kindness, all concealed behind the rugged exterior. The realisation of your own feelings for the handsome young Dane came even more slowly. You had never felt anything like this before and not to forget – you were a princess. Falling in love with a Dane, heathen and warrior, was out of question for you. But the longer you tried to deny your feelings, the stronger they grew with each passing day. Still, you successfully managed to suppress them until that dreadful assault in the narrow street. You did not know what unsettled you more – the close encounter with death or the emotional surge that overtook you as Sihtric’s strong arms enveloped you, pressing to his chest and caressing your hair. All you wished for was to prolong that moment indefinitely, to remain cradled within Sihtric’s embrace, melt into it, and let the world around you fade away. The realisation that most probably this will never happen again as you were going to be married in a week time, made your heart ache in almost physical, tangible pain.

“Oh, Sihtric, please! There’s truly no need for you to apologise. I am immensely grateful for what you did. It’s me who should be apologising to you for my foolishness, for doubting that the threat was real. If I hadn’t insisted on visiting the orphanage, if I had remained within the palace, none of this would have happened,” your voice was barely audible as you spoke.

You wanted to scream, to beg him to save you once again, to take you away from this palace and your wretched life as a princess and now even worse – as a peace cow to be married away to the most disgusting man you have ever seen. Yet, you remained silent as you knew that it was not in his power to free you from your destiny.

You continued to gaze out the window, ignoring Sihtric, who observed you with a perplexed expression. Something was certainly wrong; he just couldn’t figure out what it was. First seeing your sad and teared eyes, he thought you must be still startled by the events the day before. However, your composed response hinted him that something else had happened in between.

Initially, when Sihtric was assigned the role of a bodyguard for Alfred’s daughter, he was far from being pleased. He was a warrior and not a babysitter. Nonetheless, Uhtred insisted and Sihtric presented himself before Alfred, hoping that the king might reject him anyway. Much to his astonishment, that did not happen. Perhaps, Alfred deemed it prudent to have a Dane among the guards of his daughter, as it was reasonable to expect that the assaulters will probably be Danes as well. This however did not make the others trust or even like Sihtric. Not that this surprised him; he was used to that. What did surprise him was your non-judgemental attitude. He had expected you to despise him, even to hate him. After all, what else could he anticipate from a princess brought up in a place where everybody seemed to hate Danes. His awe knew no bounds when you greeted him on that very first day with a warm and genuine smile.

Your eyes sparkled with curiosity and nothing in your behaviour made him feel despised or unwanted. Quite the opposite. Swiftly, he found himself growing fond of you – his little princess, as he called you in his thoughts. You were cheerful, full of energy and treated everybody around you with equal warmth and kindness. Your liveliness was contagious, and Sihtric noticed how his mood inexplicably lifted in your presence. Your genuine interest in him, without a hint of suspicion or prejudice, touched a chord within him. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, and for the first time, he felt at ease sharing with someone fragments of his life. Your unpretentious and unburdened smile was the last thing that lingered in his mind before he drifted off to sleep each night. Sihtric thought you beautiful, not only in your physical appearance, but in the very essence of your being. Beautiful and utterly unreachable.

The first time Sihtric consciously noticed that his affection had evolved into something more profound and powerful was during your visit to the orphanage. Standing in the doorway, he leaned against the frame, watching you playing with the children. A profound and unexplainable warmth filled his heart, captivating him. His gaze remained locked on you, as if he were drinking in the aura of the love and tenderness that radiated from your being. In that moment, a realisation struck him that he would willingly do anything to witness your unbridled happiness. But even then, he managed to dismiss the feeling as being foolish, naïve, and impossible. Falling in love with a princess appeared to him as the most ridiculous thing he could imagine.

The moment he knew he had utterly lost his inner struggle, when he could no longer deny the intensity of his love for you, occurred in the aftermath of that brief battle. The mere thought that you might be injured and hurt terrified him to the extent that all rationality left him. In that moment he completely forgot everything as he enfolded you in a protective embrace, drawing you close to his chest, cradling and soothing you. The memory of that moment remained etched in his mind. The sensation of oblivion enveloped him as he tenderly stroked your hair, breathed in your delicate aroma, and felt the velvety touch of your skin against his fingertips.

------------------------------------------------

“Your services will no longer be required after one more week,” Sihtric was caught by surprise by the sudden announcement from the chief guard. “The lady is soon to be wed and will depart for her husband’s estate.”

“The lady is to be married?” Sihtric repeated in surprise as the news slowly sank into his consciousness. His “little princess” was getting married. He had always known his feelings were impossible, a sheer madness beyond comprehensible, he was fully aware of the unlikelihood of them being reciprocated. However, he hadn’t anticipated this fairy tale to end so swiftly and abruptly.

“Perhaps it’s for the best. It was meant to end anyway. Better sooner than later, before the last remnants of my common sense have faded away,” he thought to himself, clenching his fists tightly, his chuckles turning white under the strain.

The remaining week leading up to the wedding passed for Sihtric in somewhat like an indistinct haze. He found no opportunity to speak to you or even to see you. The walks by the riverside had ceased, no more flower-picking in the meadow, not even strolls within the garden. You remained within the palace, always surrounded by attendants, your mother – the queen herself – a constant presence at your side, willing to discuss every single detail of the upcoming wedding, be it the attire, jewellery, floral arrangements, or the feast. Oddly, Sihtric couldn't help but think that this was perhaps a blessing in disguise. What could he possibly say to you? Confess his imprudent feelings and elicit a pitying smile? That wasn't what he wanted. The only sensible thing to do was to maintain distance and to leave the palace as soon as possible, before his emotions would grow stronger, as they were already inflicting considerable pain.

Finally, all was settled. With Alfred’s consent Sihtric was set to depart on the morrow - the day before the wedding. In truth Sihtric was relieved, as he was glad, he would not have to watch the ceremony. His meager belongings were packed neatly in a saddlebag, resting upon a chair within his modest room at the tavern. He had not been given a room in the palace and had stayed at the tavern his lodging paid by the king. He was ready to retire for the night; his leather armour draped across a chair, his weapons arranged upon the table.  It was in this moment that an unexpected knock echoed through the room, startling Sihtric. He hesitated as he was not expecting anybody at such a late hour. The knock repeated, prompting him to pull the latch and swing the door open with an annoyed look on his face, only to be met by a silhouette hidden beneath a dark cape.

“What the hell…” he exclaimed in astonishment, his hand instinctively reaching for his dagger on his back, only to discover it was not there this time, laying on the table amid his other weapons.   

“May I come in?” the voice emanating from beneath the cape sent Sihtric's heart racing. It was a voice both familiar and cherished, a voice he had believed he might never hear again.  Overwhelmed by disbelief, Sihtric took a step back, allowing the cloaked figure to enter his chamber, and then quietly closed the door behind.

“I heard you are departing,” the voice spoke with a hint of reproach, as two delicate hands took off the hood revealing the bearer of the voice, his “little princess”. To say that Sihtric was surprised would be an understatement. He stood frozen in disbelief, slowly shaking his head as if attempting to dispel a dream, an impossible illusion conjured by his own fevered mind. Your eyes studied Sihtric, registering that he was shirtless and barefoot, clad only in his breeches. You swallowed hard as your eyes traced the contours of his bare chest. Awkwardness hung heavily in the air, a palpable silence enveloping the room as neither of you moved or uttered a word. Regret, like an unwelcome visitor, began to creep into your thoughts. What were you even doing here? A royal daughter, a princess of Wessex, standing alone in the presence of a half-dressed man – a Dane and a heathen, no less.

The sheer absurdity of the situation struck you, making you shiver in embarrassment under the cape.  

"I've been dismissed, my lady. With your father's approval, I am returning to Cochem," Sihtric finally broke the silence, his voice striving to remain casual, though it was almost impossible.

“You didn’t even wish to bid me farewell?” your eyes continued scanning Sihtric’s appearance, seeking something within his demeanour, a concealed sign, any trace that would hint to you, that your impulsive decision to come here might not be as foolish as your common sense suggested. Your gaze lingered on his arms, recalling how they had embraced you, before moving to his hands. You could almost feel the tender pressure of his fingers against your skin, his touch caressing your cheek. There had been an undeniable gentleness in his actions, a softness and affection woven into his words. Or had you just imagined it all? You were embarrassed and angry at yourself. There was no rational explanation for your presence here; you were merely making a complete fool of yourself.

“You were preoccupied with wedding preparations, my lady. And besides, who am I to encroach upon your precious time? I apologise if I have offended you; that was never my intent. I merely did not wish to bother you,” it took Sihtric all his inner strength to maintain his composure and stay calm. Yet there was something in his voice that caught your attention.

“No, no! No offence taken! It’s just… I wanted to express my gratitude once more for saving my life,” you stumbled over your words, your voice growing almost inaudible as you added, “And I won’t forget what you said to me afterward.” 

Sihtric raised his eyebrow, well aware of what he had said to you. He had been berating and cursing himself for his impulsive words ever since they left his lips. He had felt relieved as it seemed that you had been too shocked at that moment to register his words, but now it was evident that they had not gone unnoticed. Sihtric’s expression changed instantly, his gaze dropping to the floor in an attempt to escape the contact with your eyes, but not fast enough as you caught a glimpse of the mingled pain and humiliation shadowing his features.

“Lady, please believe me. I never intended to be disrespectful toward you,” Sihtric’s voice trembled with emotion as he continued to avoid direct eye contact with you, “Please forgive me if my words, spoken in a moment of deep concern for your safety, made you feel uncomfortable.”

“Oh, no! No, they didn’t. I just needed to … I wanted to ask if you truly meant what you said,” your heart raced within your chest as you took a hesitant step closer, reaching out to clasp Sihtric's hand, as though afraid he might vanish before providing the answer you so desperately sought.

“Lady, please don’t,” Sihtric’s voice wavered as he tried to withdraw his hand, a mixture of apprehension and longing in his eyes.

“Do what?”

“Don’t make me say something, I’ll regret for the rest of my days, even if it’s true.”

“Sihtric, I am losing my mind all this week, thinking that it all was merely a cruel creation of my imagination,” your own audacity startled you. You were almost confessing your feelings to a near stranger, a man you hardly knew and would likely never see again.

“My little princess, my love,” Sihtric slowly repeated the words with a heavy sigh, his gaze finally lifting to meet yours, “I meant every single word, my lady. There’s no escape for me. Regardless of where I go or what happens to me, I will always love you,” the pain laced in Sihtric’s voice was palpable. He loved you, knowing that there was no future for you both. Worlds separated you – a Saxon princess destined to wed an East Anglian nobleman, and him - an outsider, a despised Dane, a heathen, and a warrior with nothing to offer apart from life in perpetual danger and suspense. Despite it all, he found himself incapable of tearing his gaze away from you. Unconsciously, his fingers entwined with yours as you still hadn’t let go of his hand, and his forehead drew near slowly touching yours.

The world spun around you, the weight of Sihtric’s words finally sinking in, a burning sensation coursing through you, just like the first time you heard them. He loved you. It was neither a dream, not a cruel gameplay of your overheated mind. He loved you. In this very moment it was all that mattered. Those few words had changed your entire universe.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you leaned in and pressed your lips to Sihtric's. The kiss was tentative, your inexperience evident in the gentle brush of your lips against his, but it made all the last remnants of common-sense crumble in Sihtric’s mind as he responded with a fervour of a starving man savouring a long-awaited feast. His lips and tongue melded with yours, an intoxicating dance of desire and need. Sihtric’s kiss was soft, yet demanding, his lips brushing, sucking, and gently biting yours with ravenous eagerness and passion, leaving you breathless. Your head was spinning, and dizziness enveloped you as you yielded to his passion. You closed your eyes and your lips parted in a soft moan against his mouth. Sihtric's tongue slipped into your mouth, a hungry exploration that set your heart racing. His hands found your waist, drawing you closer, the heat of his touch searing through your skin. The kiss was an inferno of love, warmth, and raw emotion that left you gasping for air, lost in a realm of sensation you had never experienced before, and you wished for it to continue indefinitely.

Reality crashed upon Sihtric like a tidal wave, jolting him from the whirlwind of desire. With an abrupt motion, he broke the kiss, pulling away from you. His hand cupped your chin, his forehead resting against yours as he fought to regain his composure.

“Princess, this is madness,” his voice trembled, his eyes shut, his breath ragged. “Please, don’t do this to me. Do not awaken hope when there is none. You must leave, now, before your absence is discovered.”

Your gaze remained locked on him, your heart pounding, unable to say anything or even gather your thoughts from the intensity of emotions that swirled through you. Slowly, you reached out, your hand grazing his cheek, your thumb tracing the contours of his skin. Being this close to him made you shiver.

“I can’t…, I don’t want to,” you whispered, your voice a delicate plea. “Sihtric, please… This is my last night of my already so limited freedom, and I want to spend it with you. I want you to be the first man to touch me, to make love to me. Please, don’t reject me.”

There it was, laid bare before him, the true reason you had come, the decision you had made, dismissed and taken again during the last sleepless nights until it had transformed in firm resolve.

Your life had always been predetermined and dictated by obligations and duty; your choices limited by being a king’s daughter. You had accepted that. You knew that the alliance with Lord Ethelwold was necessary for Wessex to stand up against the Danes and you were indeed willing to bring that sacrifice by marrying him. However, there was one decision in your life that you were not willing to allow to be taken from you. And that was the reason you had come, driven by a fervent hope that the man you had irrevocably fallen in love with might feel the same way.

Slowly you untied your cape and let it drop to the floor, your gaze locked with Sihtric’s. His pupils grew wider, and his breath fastened as you placed your hands on his bare chest, letting your fingers travel down to his stomach in a tender brush. You hesitated a moment when your fingers reached his waist and the hem of his breaches and Sihtric quickly seized your hands and raised them to his mouth, placing gentle kisses on your palms.

“Princess, please, stop before it’s too late,” Sihtric leaned in closer and buried his face in your neck breathing in your scent, his fingers intertwining with yours “I am flattered, I truly am. But you don’t understand what you are asking from me.” Sihtric closed his eyes and placed a gentle kiss on your neck and then another one on your jaw, feeling painfully strained in his breeches. He desired you, no, he craved for you beyond imaginable. Your smell, your breath against his skin, your soft lips, and the feel of your body so close to him and yet so unreachable and forbidden drew him to madness. His mind told him to step back, to let go of you, but he couldn’t. With all his willpower he tried to suppress the urge to kiss you again, knowing that if he did, he probably wouldn’t be able to stop himself anymore.

“I am asking you to save me from misery and grant me the freedom of choice. I want to feel love and desire, even if that’s only for one single night. My future husband is far away from being a fairy tale prince. Can you imagine what will be my first night with him? I can, I am not that naïve as you think of me, Sihtric,” you pressed your body to his, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer, making Sihtric groan loudly, lust and desire consuming him.

Sihtric’s lips found yours and crushed against them with the same unsatiable hunger as before, setting your mind on fire. His hands moved down to your waist, holding you firmly pressed against his muscular body, and you were melting in his strong embrace, feeling a shiver going down your spine and your legs getting week and wobbly. He made a step forward pressing you against the door, his lips traveling down to your jaw and then further to you neck, placing greedy wet open-mouthed kisses on their way, while his hands started tugging the laces of your dress with fumbling fingers. You couldn’t help but smile in anticipation as you helped him to untie and unlace everything until the dress slid down your shoulders and dropped to the ground, revealing your naked upper body, and leaving you only with your ruffled silk underpants. Sihtric’s eyes studied your body for a moment, drinking in all the small details, lines, and curves and then his lips were back on your neck.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, placing soft gentle kisses down to your breasts, licking and sucking gently at your hard aroused nipples. A strange burning sensation settled in your lower body and slowly consumed you, blurring your mind and vision, making you whine in pleasure your fingers trailing Sihtric’s back.    

“Princess, are you sure, you want this?” Sihtric’s hoarse voice reached through your dizzied mind. You wanted to say something, but not a sound came out of your dry throat, overpowered by the overwhelming sensation of Sihtric’s touch on your body you just moaned tangling your fingers in his hair.

“Say it! I need to hear it,” Sihtric demanded, whispering in your ear as his hands slowly trailed down to your waist and started untangling the lace that was holding your underpants.

“Yes, I want it. I need it. I want you,” you finally managed to form the words, tugging harder at his hair. Your answer sounded like a desperate plea. You were already flying from the touch of his lips and hands on your body and were eager for more. You wanted him. You burned for him. You loved him and trusted him. A lustful smile curled on your lips, hearing Sihtric groan as he kneeled before you, pulling down your legs the last remaining peace of clothe covering you and revealing you completely naked before him.

“My princess, my sweet little princess, you are so breath-taking beautiful. This must be a dream, but I don’t want to wake from it,” he murmured against your skin pressing his nose to your cunt, breathing in your smell, and placing a soft kiss on it. Waves of heat washed all over your body. You had never felt anything comparable to this before.

Sihtric rose to his feet and lifted you in his strong arms with no effort at all. He cradled you to his chest and carried to his bed, placing you gently down and positioning himself beside you, his hand touching your cheek and turning your head to face him.

“If you change your mind, princess, if you want me to stop, just say it. You can stop me anytime. This is all about you tonight. You are in charge, don’t forget it,” Sihtric said quietly, but seriously. “Do you understand? Tell me!” he insisted, locking his gaze with yours.

“Yes, I do. I trust you,” you whispered back, cupping his face with both hands and leaning closer to kiss him. You started by moving your lips gently along his and in the very moment Sihtric’s lips parted as he answered your kiss, your tongue slid into his mouth. Eager to show him what a good learner you are, you licked hungrily into his mouth, your tongue finding his, curling around it, sucking at it, your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to you. Sihtric kissed you back with the same passion, setting the world around you in spiralling motion again. He broke the kiss, earning a disappointing whimper from you, a lustful smile on his lips.

“I want to show you something, my love,” he purred in your ear, moving his body over yours, parting your legs and positioning himself between your thighs. His mouth started travelling down your neck to your breasts and further down to your stomach, placing soft kisses all over your body on its way. He did not stop there, his body moved further down between your legs, his mouth continuing to place soft kisses on its way now reaching your inner thigh. You stiffened from the unfamiliar sensation that filled you.

“Relax, my little princess. You will enjoy it, believe me,” Sihtric murmured, his lips moving closer and closer to your core until his wet tongue slid over your clit, licking further through you folds. You moaned heavily, digging your nails in the bedsheets, grabbing them with full force and arching your back off the mattress in obscene pleasure, as Sihtric continued devouring you, his tongue circling your clit, licking and sucking it. His soft moans against your core let you know he was enjoying it as much as you did. Your hips started to move frantically, uncontrollably against his tongue, your climax building up quickly and just as you thought there can’t be any rise in the pleasure washing over you, you felt Sihtric pushing a finger inside you.

“Oh my God!” you whimpered.

“Does it feel good, my princess?” Sihtric murmured.

“God! Sihtric! It feels divine,” you cried out as he continued to move his finger in and out of you, his tongue never leaving your clit. It was the last bit you needed to reach your peak. It washed over you in an overwhelming wave, making you cry out Sihtric’s name, pure bliss pulsing through your veins. Sihtric’s hands took hold of your hips, holding you steady in the place, his tongue continuing licking and sucking at your already over sensitive pearl. You wanted to escape him, to move away from his tongue, but he did not let you, holding you firmly until you surrendered yourself to him feeling another wave of pleasure building up and washing over you even more intense as the first one.

“Common, little princess, you can make it one more time for me. You can be loud. Don’t be afraid. I adore those wonderful sounds you make,” Sihtric hummed, pushing two fingers deep inside you and continuing to fuck you slowly with his fingers his mouth never letting go of your pussy. And you came again against his tongue and fingers, with your lips parted as you screamed out your pleasure.

“I think you are ready now. I am so sorry. It might hurt, my love, but I will be gentle,” Sihtric breathed in your ear, undoing his breeches, releasing at last his stone hard cock and placing it at your entrance.

“Princess, do you want me to?” he asked.

“Yes, Sihtric! Yes! I want to. Please, take me,” you begged. Receiving your permission Sihtric started to push slowly inside you, his thumb circling your clit. It hurt, he was so big, stretching you painfully. You buried your fingers in the bedsheets, trying to hide the pain, not wanting him to notice, but a pained whimper escaped your lips. Sihtric stopped immediately.

“Do you want me to stop? Princess, look at me! Just tell me to stop, and I will,” his voice so full of genuine concern made you want him even more. You craved for him and wanted to pleasure him just as he did it for you just before. You shook your head.

“No, I want you. Just give me a moment to adjust,” you pleaded and Sihtric leaned in to kiss you, his lips brushing gently against yours.

“I love you, my little princess. I love you with all my heart. I want you to know that,” he whispered, as his lips descended on your nipples, sucking gentle at them, and setting you on fire again.

“Sihtric, take me! Don’t hold back. I need you! You are the best, that could ever happen to me,” you murmured, placing your hands on his hips and trying to pull him towards you.

Sihtric resumed his movement pushing further inside you and you screamed out shortly as you felt him forcing into you until the very end of his length, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

“Husch, my love. That’s it, you have me,” Sihtric whispered kissing away your tears as you felt something warm dripping down your thigh. Before you even managed to register what had happened, he pulled out and pushed slowly back again into you, and then again and again, his pace slow and gentle in the beginning, but fastening with every thrust, transforming still lingering pain into absolute, indescribable pleasure as his length stretched and filled you, making you mewl and whine under the movements of his hips against yours. Your nails were digging into Sihtric’s back as you tried to hold onto him, and your hips started to move against his making him thrust even deeper into you.

“You take me so good,” Sihtric groaned, continuing his movements, his breath getting faster, “You are perfect, just made for me and I love you so much!” he murmured softly against your mouth, kissing you jerky.

“Oh my God, Sihtric! It feels so good! You feel so good!” you breathed out, wanting to praise him, to let him know how good he was to you, your breath getting faster and shallower with each trust, your obscure moans filling the room and mingling with Sihtric’s grunts.

“Cum for me, little princess. I want you to cum on my cock, screaming my name.” Sihtric hissed, locking his gaze with yours, “Let yourself fly! I am holding you,” his hips kept rutting against yours, his breath heavy and unsteady, being close to his own high. He wetted his thumb with his tongue and moved it to your clit, rubbing it gently and with that last touch he pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm, the fourth and the most intense in this night, hit you like a heavy storm. You felt your inner walls clench around Sihtric’s cock as the waves of pleasure and relief washed over you, making your body shake and tremble against his as you came moaning loudly, arching your back and crying out his name in pure bliss. Sihtric continued to fuck you slowly through your orgasm, letting you savour each and every wave of pleasure, his eyes drinking in the sight of you writhing beneath him.

“You are so good to me. I am so close, my love,” he whispered, “I will not cum inside you if you do not want to,” he whispered his nose nuzzling at your neck.

“Sihtric! My love! I want you, all of you, everything of you,” you moaned grabbing his hips and pushing yourself against him. This was all he needed, a few more thrusts and he came instantly with a loud growl, spilling himself deep inside you, pressing you into the mattress with his weight as he collapsed over you, breathing heavily into the crook of your neck. You stayed so for a while, your arms around him, your fingers brushing through his hair, his lips placing soft kisses on you neck and shoulder. With a heavy sigh Sihtric pulled out and laid beside you, his arms still around your waist, pulling you closer to him, cradling you in the crook of his body.

“Stay with me,” he purred into your ear, his voice dripping with longing “I know this is madness, princess. This entire night is a whirlwind of madness.”

“Sihtric, I can’t,” you replied, your voice a fragile whisper. “I love you, and that will never change. But I can’t. My father… Wessex … we need that alliance,” your heart ached at these words.

“I love you too, my little princess,” Sihtric’s voice was hoarse. “There will never be another in my life. I am all yours, and I will be waiting for you,” the seriousness and confidence in Sihtric’s voice made you shiver. You turned to face him, your lips trembling as they met his in a tender kiss.

“I can’t ask that from you,” you whispered, cupping his cheek.

“That’s not just a promise; it’s a certainty, my love,” Sihtric's arms enveloped you in a tight embrace. “I will wait for you, and whether in this life or the next, you will be mine.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you rested against his strong chest, feeling the truth of his words echoing in your mind.

Part 2 Good wife

[fainthedcherry]

ALSO; Here's ANOTHER piece I forgot to post, but was really excited to post. Yeeeah it doesn't get better with my inconsistency and forgetfulness, I know, it's only getting worse haha.

THIS IS A COMMISSION THIS TIME, for my friend Hollowed-Hartlocke on DA and TH!!

Owloette and this outdated, redesigned version of Hoodude belongs to Hollowed-Hartlocke design wise,

Chiri belongs to me (she's in the BG by request of Hart)

Vanilly Hoodude Voodoo belongs to Mattel, and so does Heath Burns (to the right of the drawing.) ((The outfit is not official, I made a random outfit design to fit thematically))

Thank you SO SO much for believing in me, being so patient for me for so many years now!! I am so happy, that you were the first person, to actually pay me in IRL money, what an honour, that my friend is so nice to me man. 🥺💖

Yes, a commission! In this modern day, can you believe it? I've yet to finish 2 more comms, I hope to finish them this year, honest to god. It's so hard to get a grip on some responsibilities, as I gotta figure stuff out appointment-wise with my driver's exams, psychologist-stuff abt my diagnosis still, and ofc, deal with the fact, that I gotta babysit my coworkers (not exaggerating, I keep being bugged on my weekends about my coworkers over some random annoying stuff they didn't wanna do under the normal work-week), and continue to study for tests and finish a presentation until next week.

^As you can tell, it's a bit stressful lately, which is why I had difficulty drawing at home, getting out of bed, to add with cramps post-work, hip- and knee pain in my bones, migraines. it all stacks up, and it doesn't help, that I lately had a spike in my ADHD seemingly acting up again. Been unable to concentrate, been getting overwhelmed, been having some EXTREME time-blindness. It's a bit hard with life lately. :")

It probably makes sense, why I was absent for a good bit. I ache a lot physically, and mentally lately and just. A. LIFE. I DO NOT LIKE IT. BUT MUST SURVIVE IT.

I again, tried something different with the lighting here, being a more direct-light source! I tried to make the lights look harsher, and I think this isn't too bad! Again, in hindsight of 2024, months later, shoulda proooobs made the shading sharper in appearance, still looks too soft, for direct-light hitting this floppy fellow. And also, added a drop-shadow for Heath near the lighting. Dear god, I wish I wouldn't make so many mistakes aaaa.

But oh well, that's what passage of time is, growing up, sucking up mistakes, trying to rid of your perfectionism.

[ctrl-alt-tahu]

Star Wars Shows I want to Whisper in Dave Filoni's ear

So, @onvermel and I were video-chatting to compare notes on The Acolyte (short version, we both liked it), but as the conversation ranged wide over all things Star Wars, we ended up having some rather specific ideas of what we'd like (or like to have had) in a Star Wars show.

Firstly:

Jar Jar Binks After the Prequels

We both agreed that it's probably still a little while before Lucasfilm/Disney is brave enough to dip its toes back in the Jar Jar waters after George Lucas himself backed off royally in Episodes II and III, but we think the time has come. We want a show that follows him after Revenge of the Sith. It could go three ways, and I want to see all three:

The Rise and Fall of the House of Binks: i.e., the dramatic tragedy. After the death of his friend and mentor, Padmé Amidala, Representative Binks is again asked to step in as Acting Senator for Naboo--this time by the Emperor himself. Jar Jar is honoured and humbled to follow in Padmé's steps and takes pride in continuing her legacy. Over the course of the show (at least two seasons), Jar Jar comes to realise what Padmé's legacy really was, and he comes to realise with horror that: a.) he betrayed it with his vote in Attack of the Clones, b.) that his pride in Naboo as the homeworld of the Emperor is profoundly misplaced, and c.) that something is seriously wrong. And once he realises all this and tries to do something about it, the Emperor gets wind of it and sends his fearsome enforcer, Darth Vader, and in his last moments, Jar Jar has a terrifying realisation--this is another man he knows.

Binks: a comedy about Acting Senator-turned-permanent senator Jar Jar Binks. As I put it to Onvermel, a few sad deaths of friends aside, this is the show where Jar Jar is the only person still living in the Republic after the end of the prequels: hesa very good friend of the chancellor, appointed permanent senator by Queen Jamilla in the hopes of leveraging that favour, and Palpatine finds him a useful cog and... the show is just Jar Jar bumbling about in a Frasier-esque existence oblivious to what he's enabling or what has happened. There's some social commentary in this: through Jar Jar's eyes, we see the galaxy as Palpatine wanted people to see it--and as many people (not the rebels or the downtrodden) actually did. It's mostly just laughs until the final episode: Palpatine has died at Endor, the New Republic has taken Coruscant, and Senator Binks as a close collaborator of Palpatine for thirty years is put on trial (after Mas Amedda and right before Sate Pestage) for war crimes. He's taken away guilty at the end--"but meesa knows nothing about the Sith! Meesa knows nothing!" in a Seinfeld-esque downer of an ending.

Meesa Bombad: a full blown, Chuck Lorre-style, sitcom (or maybe Cheers, if Jar Jar takes a Sam-esque role a former minor celebrity opening a bar) complete with laugh-track and three-camera set. Jar Jar doesn't have to be a senator in this one. I'd be happy with one episode as a holiday special proof-of-concept--but I'd also take Three Broke Gungans with five years of 22-episode seasons. Sebulba makes frequent guest appearances as Jar Jar's nemesis.

The other "show" we wanted is less of a show and more of a missed opportunity for The Clone Wars that we'd like to see revisited:

Dexter Jettster's Diner

How did we get 7 seasons of The Clone Wars without seeing Obi-wan's buddy and his diner? Why was there never a scene where Obi-wan went there to relax? It could still happen--so let's manifest that. But imagine what could have been in Season 7:

Ahsoka, just gone from the Jedi order, is trying to make her way in Coruscant's underworld, and finds herself in a diner late at night, eating comfort food. The proprietor, a friendly older Besilisk, lends her a sympathetic ear as she tells him a redacted version of her story: she used to have a home, she used to have family, but she was lied about and betrayed, and no one believed her--they all believed her accuser and no one listened to her. Dexter tells her at the end, when he's trying to give her some comfort:

"Well, it's like I always say, lying only works if you believe it. What your friend told your family might have been true... from a certain point of view."

[The point of this anecdote is the rueful tears of fans--but, more seriously, what is Star Wars without way too many callbacks? If you're going to revisit Dexter Jettster--and they should--shouldn't he be tied to Obi-wan?]

[fideidefenswhore]

I think the problem with Chapuys is that the ambassadors aren't really seen as "people", if you will, with agency and biases like everyone else, but just disembodied voices narrating the story, and so for a long time historians and writers just accepted reports at face value, because there wasn't "thought" behind it. You should write a book on him as a response to the other one. You've got a lot of interesting observations.

Omg, you're too kind. But thank you ❤️

Yeah, I actually made a similar observation to you, elsewhere, expanded a bit:

Unfortunately, the practice of using Chapuys' dispatches as the emotional blueprint for all these historical people has become rather prevalent. I think he had credible insights at times, but what's sort of forgotten is that while many of his reports are of what these people said and did (according to, a noblewo/man, or Cromwell, or a physician of a nobleman, or a servant of a gentleman, or 'several reliable quarters', or COA or Mary themselves), many others are simply what he's assuming they thought or said or felt, and have no specific incident or quote or source given. One particularly egregious example informed a lot of subsequent portrayals of Thomas & George Boleyn, namely that upon the death of COA in Jan 1536, they "must have said to themselves, what a pity it was that the Princess had not kept her mother company", with the 'must' (ie, speculation, rather than an actual report of what any of his sources claimed to have overheard) omitted.

[To wit]:

"The King’s mistress had from the very beginning resolved that the Princess should act as her train-bearer, and that she would cause her and her mother all manner of annoyances; but considering that her singular beauty, goodness, and virtue, might possibly induce the King to change his purpose, and that if the Princess were to attend Court, and be seen there continually, she might daily gain the hearts and favour of the courtiers, she has not allowed her to come." Jan 1534, Chapuys to Charles V

[Also, literally a month after this report Anne does invite her stepdaughter to court, the first of three recorded attempts, so...awkward.]

Now, as 'resolved' is not 'said' (it's also interesting that his concern seems to have shifted from the report of the year prior, in which making Mary her trainbearer was the least of what Anne threatened: 'I hear she has lately boasted that she will make of the Princess a maid of honour in her household, that she may perhaps give her too much dinner on some occasion [ie, poison], or marry her to some varlet [a low-ranking servant of poor birth, Chapuys would later refer to Mark Smeaton as a 'varlet']), this would be a case of the 'mind reading' I meant; insofar as some explanation as to why Mary was sent to Princess Elizabeth's household, which was a satellite of the the King's court, rather than the centre of everything, the King's court itself. Granted, I think AB fearing her stepdaughter's popularity is more likely, but the likelier explanation overall would be that Mary was not invited to court for the same reason her own household was dissolved; she defied Henry's appointment and determination of her illegitimacy. Youth and beauty and envy thereof was hardly the determinate factor here, considering [...] that Margaret Douglas, of almost identical age and equal in beauty (according to their contemporaries), was one of AB's preeminent ladies and much in favour...the determinate difference was that MD and her mother acknowledged Anne as Queen, and, for obvious reasons, Mary and hers did not. Rich pickings for the narrative trope casting Mary as Snow White and AB as her wicked stepmother, tho......

[immobiliter]

 “⭐️” for whoever you want and as many or as few as you want: neuvillette and Furina, neuvillette and navia, Lyney and navia, al-haitham and dehya, kazuha and beidou! (Did I miss anyone -)

for each “⭐️” I get, I’ll write a headcanon about our muses / @apocryphis

ventium ily for naming all of our dynamics, i'm gonna try to give you one for each~

⭐️ i like to think that very early on in furina & neuvillette's working relationship, shortly after he was invited to fontaine, furina took a very keen — not controlling per se but definitely her brand of obnoxious — interest in how he was presented to the people and was responsible for the design and colour scheme of his first set of robes as iudex ( the concept of which she described in painstaking detail to the poor seamstress granted the honour ). it was partly a power play as she had to prove to the hydro sovereign that she was the one in control and pulling the strings, but there were some good intentions behind it as furina saw how much of an outsider he was ( particularly as he brought the melusines with him and we know the initial trouble that caused ) and wanted to help him assimilate into fontainian society as smoothly as possible. she became less overbearing over time but those first months involved a number of these "teaching" moments as she attempted to instruct him in the way fontainians dressed, ate, conducted business, pursued their hobbies etc etc. imagine it's like the princess diaries and furina is julie andrews lmaooo

⭐️being a social butterfly herself, navia does struggle, particularly early on in their partnership post-AQ, with neuvillette's solitary and emotionally distant nature, and i think she quickly deduces that this makes him a rather lonely individual, too. so she will try to counter this by spontaneously turning up at the palais mermonia from time to time ( without an appointment, naturally, and yes she will interrupt whatever business he has at that particular moment ), not on official business but just to bring him the newest batch of macarons that she has baked or to ask him about his day/tell him about hers. the palais feels like such a cold, lonely building so navia will try to fill it with as much warmth as possible whenever she is visiting.

⭐️ i think out of all three house siblings, navia gets on the best with lyney and as they bond post-AQ/during the poisson rebuild, they both instinctively recognise a kinship as being two young people who carry the burdens of their respective institutions and all of the pressure that brings. but navia is also not blind to the house's secrets and is capricious by nature so these two have definitely been awake until late playing cards or other tabletop-esque games trying to wheedle information out of one another. navia never ever succeeds in getting lyney to divulge his secrets, but she puts up an admirable fight.

⭐️ while it is true that dehya will rarely, if ever, compliment alhaitham to his face out of fear of inflating his ego and never ever living it down, if she is ever in a situation ( either with alhaitham present or in the presence of others ) where she feels he is facing unfair criticism, she will always stand up for him or back him up. his direct manner is something she greatly respects, even if it is a little harsh at times, and he has certainly done enough over the course of the AQ to earn her loyalty.

⭐️ beidou will always ensure that the alcor is a home and safe haven for kazuha for as long as he wants it to be, but a part of the kinship these two share is understanding that neither can be tied down permanently to one place. so if kazuha were to ever come to her and say that he wanted to leave and move on, there would be no hard feelings whatsoever and beidou would do whatever she could to make that transition as smooth as possible. her one and only condition for kazuha leaving is that he remains in contact with her by letter to save her worrying over him like a mother hen.

[scotianostra]

December 4th 1423  saw Treaty of London, releasing James I from his 18 years captivity in England.

Not so much a treaty, the actually treaty releasing James was The Treaty of Durham,the following March. 

James had been captive in England since pirates boarded the ship carrying him to, what was meant to be the safety of France in 1406, his father Robert III, decided to send wee Jamesie to France – for his own protection, not from the English, but from his uncle Robert, Duke of Albany who was already involved in the death of James brother, David, Duke of Rothesay. So this “treaty” was merely the negotiation of the marriage of James I, King of Scots, to Miss Jane (or Joan) Beaufort, daughter of the Earl of Somerset.

That’s not so say there isn’t a lot to say about it, the background is a great insight into the politics of the time.

James’s progressively increasing importance in England from 1420 accelerated rapidly after Henry V’s death at Vincennes outside Paris on 31st  August 1422. James, who had remained with the English king after the successful capture of Dreux and foray to Beaugency, was in the escort of honour that conveyed the the body back to England for burial at Westminster.

In England, the regents for the child-king, Henry VI, were increasingly concerned for the security of the English grip on their French conquests and news that the earls of Douglas and Buchan were planning further campaigns was deeply worrying. Taking James on campaign to France had clearly done little to deter the Scots from fighting against the English army there, so they looked to a new strategy to neutralise this threat. From early in 1423, they were actively seeking to open negotiations with the Scots to arrange his release. Having James home in Scotland was surely the most effective way to end active Scottish participation in the French wars.

Initially, the Scots seemed little inclined to engage in meaningful negotiations, especially since control of the administration was exercised by James’s cousin, Murdock Stewart, 2nd duke of Albany. Like his father, Duke Robert, before him, Murdock had no reason to hand his rule in Scotland over to James. Unfortunately for him, as political relationships within the kingdom began to shift, with senior nobles ranging from Archibald, 4th earl of Douglas, to Donald MacDonald, lord of the Isles and his son (and from 1423 new lord), Alexander, in direct communication with James and building support at home for a serious diplomatic effort to negotiate his release. In August 1423, they secured agreement in a general council held at Inverkeithing for the appointment of envoys. It was now no longer a question of if but when James would be released.

Back in England, the powerful Beaufort family was manoeuvring to make the maximum from the negotiations. The family’s most influential figures, Henry Beaufort, bishop of Winchester and chancellor of England, and Thomas Beaufort, duke of Exeter, played a leading part in framing the treaty which led to James’s release and secured within it provision for the Scottish king’s marriage to an English bride. It was no accident, of course, that the bride should come from within the Beaufort family.

The choice fell on Bishop Henry and Duke Thomas’s niece, Joan, the daughter of their late brother John, earl of Somerset, and his wife Margaret Holland. It is likely that Joan, who had been born in 1404, was well known to James from his recent years of life at court, but he might well have known her earlier, if she was indeed the muse who inspired his love poem, The Kingis Quair. James seems to have agreed readily to the marriage, no doubt partly because of her Beaufort connections, which he knew would give him a degree of influence within England or, at least, an ear amongst those in power there, but she was also reckoned to be of great beauty and accomplishment, so a catch in many ways.

On 12th February 1424, the couple were married in a splendid ceremony in the priory-church of St Mary Overie, the Beauforts ensured that all expense was spared on the marriage, for rather than provide their niece with a dowry to set her up in style as queen in Scotland, they instead arranged for a discounting of £6,666 of the £40,000 agreed as the cost of James’s release.

Within weeks of the marriage ceremony, James and Joan were heading north for the final negotiations for the king’s return to Scotland. On 28th March at Durham, the treaty – with its dowry deduction – was finally ratified and sealed personally by James. Just eight days later at Melrose Abbey, near the border between Scottish territory and the still English-occupied district around Roxburgh and Jedburgh, the king and queen at last entered their kingdom.

[goldenlaurelleaveswrites]

Back to September

28. Ring Bearer

Based on this prompt list

AO3

______________________________________________

If she had known this wedding would be such a… such a production, she wouldn’t have so readily agreed to help her parents out with the catering. As it was, it was far, far, far too late to back out now. The most she could do was keep her head down and get through it. 

She turned to grab another box of cream puffs from the counter and hissed in pain as one of the caterers stepped on her foot. He offered her an apologetic look over her shoulder but was gone in a flurry of limbs and panic in the blink of an eye. He was just one of the many, many, many harried vendors scrambling around, trying to keep everything from turning to shambles. 

The groom and bride had been… indecisive from the get-go. Her parents had griped over how the cake tasting appointment had run over time because the couple couldn’t make up their minds. 

Looking back, their inability to make a decision at that appointment had been an omen for the chaos to come. 

They had changed their order for the cake three times. And she had heard from the caterers that the same had happened to them. And the poor florist… the woman had looked ready to rip the centrepieces to shreds. 

To say nothing of the wedding planner… 

Nothing was where it was supposed to be. Nothing had gone according to plan or schedule. The DJ had been a no-show. The flower girl had wandered away and hidden in a dumb waiter for half an hour while the best man and maid of honour scoured the building, looking for her in a panic. There hadn’t been enough staff on site to set things up so, apparently, the string quartet had been roped into helping set up…  

It was a good thing Hawkmoth had been dealt with years ago. Otherwise, someone would have been akumatized already. 

She shook her head and began unloading the creampuffs onto a serving platter. The ceremony was over now. As was the cocktail hour. Dinner had been served. They just needed to get through the rest of the night. She just had to make it a few more hours. Then she could go home with a nice big paycheck from her parents and collapse into bed and-

“Have you seen the ring bearer?” Her eyes snapped up at the unfamiliar voice and landed on a dishevelled-looking man with ruffled blue hair—she vaguely remembered hearing the mother of the groom complaining about someone with blue hair and how he didn’t fit the aesthetic—and a violin case in his hand. His suit jacket was thrown over his shoulder, and looked ready to fall off at any second, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal tattoos on his arms. She could see splashes of blue and teal, and black lines- “Please tell me you’ve seen him. Five years old. Blond. He has… brown eyes, I think?” 

Heat flared through her cheeks as she shook her head. She had just been staring at him and- “No! I haven’t. What’s his name?”

“I don’t know,” the man groaned, running a hand through his hair. 

“You don’t know…?” 

He shook his head. “I was supposed to be outta here ages ago. I was just supposed to play the ceremony, but this family-“ he cut himself off abruptly, his cheeks reddening as he glanced around surreptitiously. “Uh, sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I shouldn’t talk about clients that way…”

She snorted. “You’re in good company here,” she said, gesturing around to all the harried people bustling around the kitchen. “Misery and company and all that.” He chuckled. He had a nice laugh. “So if you were supposed to be gone already, how did you get roped into looking for the ring bearer?” 

“Long story,” he sighed. Only to be interrupted by his stomach growling. “Sorry,” he muttered as his face flushed again. “I haven’t had a chance to eat yet- I can’t!” he began to protest as she pressed a cream puff into his free hand. 

“Sure you can. You were supposed to be gone ages ago, and now you’re stuck looking for a kid. I don’t see why you can’t have one. Just don’t tell anyone where you got it,” she added with a conspiratorial wink. 

He laughed. And then his laugh turned into a grin. And then his grin turned into a smile. All quiet and kind and twinkling eyes and cheeks bones and curved lips… “Thank you…”

“Marinette,” she squeaked out. Suddenly, she was feeling a little breathless. 

“Luka.” 

“Timmy!” She jumped at the sound of a voice in the hall shouting. Luka’s mouth was gaping open, his eyes wide and startled. And his cheeks were turning pink. She could feel her own growing warm again with a flush. “Timmy, where are you?” 

“Right! Ring bearer… I should…”

“Yeah,” she gasped. 

He was almost out of the room when he paused. Then he turned and made his way back to her. “Feel free not to use it but… if you ever wanted to give me a call…” he held out a business card to her with a grin tinged with shyness. 

Smiling, she took it from him. Luka Couffaine. Guitar. Violin. Lyre. Harp… the list went on. “Only,” she said as she began fishing in her apron pocket, “if you’ll use mine.” She handed him her card for her fashion line, and his grin widened. 

[mariacallous]

Many of the people who have been prime minister in the past six years seem to have internalised the idea that we’re sleepwalking towards an apologetically British form of tinpot dictatorship. After all, each of them has spent a remarkable amount of their time in office saying out loud: “I really don’t think the public wants an election.”

Perhaps the arc of history is bending towards them being right. As discussed here previously, a recent poll found that 61% of 18- to 34-year-olds supported running the UK with “a strong leader who doesn’t have to bother with parliament/elections”. Which doesn’t feel like the most ringing endorsement of whichever form of democracy we currently practise (constitutional experts/dadaists are invited to get in touch to clarify). We have an unelected second chamber and the second mandate-free prime minister in just over two months. Meanwhile, the former health secretary who spent most of the pandemic telling everyone how to behave has absconded from his post as a member of parliament, and is currently poised to pocket a rumoured £400,000 fee to enter the I’m A Celebrity jungle, where he claims to want to talk to the public about dyslexia. That’s going to be difficult with his mouth full of kangaroo cock. But we are where we are.

Against this increasingly necrotic political backdrop, many will feel too far gone to react angrily to a Boris Johnson resignation honours list that includes peerages for young No 10 aides (one of whom, Charlotte Owen, is said to be in her late 20s); for Nadine Dorries; for the former Tory mayoral candidate who threw a lockdown party; for MPs who are “deferring” taking their ermine till after the next election so as not to risk unfortunate byelection results for the governing party; and for the guy who paid for Johnson’s wildly expensive holiday to Mustique that the then prime minister repeatedly lied about.

Indeed, all of this ennoblement is being pushed while Johnson is himself being investigated by the privileges committee on a charge of misleading the house, for which the penalty could be his removal from it. Like I say, many will simply decline to lose their rag about him stuffing the Lords. At some point, the smart move becomes saving your energy for the militias.

As for the specific defects of this honours list, in many ways they aren’t exactly new. We have long seen politicians and political aides given peerages simply for doing their jobs – the equivalent of a participation medal. Albeit in this case for people who participated in one of the most shambolic periods of government in living memory. And arguably there’s nothing wrong with becoming a peer in your late 20s – people have been doing it for centuries, typically after their father succumbed to consumption or suffered a hunting mishap following rumours of an affair with a senior Whig.

Indeed, Johnson’s allies stress that the former PM has in fact proffered a “slimmed-down” list, compared with what he had originally planned. Yet that is solely because – as we now know only too well – the recently ousted Johnson actively seeks a swift return to Downing Street. Trust me, had he decided to draw a final line under the dignity-aborting era that was his political career, this list would have contained everyone from his toddler son to the hairdresser who paints over Lord Lebedev’s beard regrowth however many times a week. Lord Brownlow – the sad-sack who paid for seemingly every luxury item the Johnsons bought but couldn’t afford – would have been made a duke.

During his premiership, Johnson had already created 86 peers, meaning that a hefty percentage of the 800 or so members of the upper chamber will have now been appointed by him. Some Tory donor who was Jacob Rees-Mogg’s business partner was recently ennobled by Liz Truss, solely so he could become investment minister. Lord Johnson (no relation, in this rare case) held the investment minister post for precisely 26 days before the Truss administration died in a freak prime ministering accident, but he is now in the Lords and able to influence British law for the rest of his life.

Yet on it all rolls, in the hope that people won’t notice. Indeed, the task of noticing such things has become almost a full-time job. Every now and then I have to remind myself that at least 56 MPs are reportedly facing sexual misconduct allegations. Where are we with any of those? There are now so many of these stories that we lose track of how they end – or even what happens after they have first broken.

The other day I suddenly remembered David Warburton MP, the member for Somerset and Frome, who in April was suspended from the Conservative party following multiple sexual assault allegations and claims of cocaine use (in response, he insisted he had “enormous amounts of defence” against the claims). What happened with that story, I wonder? A quick Google search finds that only a fortnight ago David was farting out quotes calling for Liz Truss to be swiftly replaced. “It’s crucial we put in place a new leader and prime minister who truly has the strength of purpose that Britain needs,” Warburton thundered, possibly in front of an upturned roasting tin . “I am pressing for the leadership contest to be conducted expeditiously and look forward to a new prime minister who will command both local and national support as we face the very significant challenges that must be overcome – and overcome rapidly.” Certainly more rapidly than David’s case is being investigated.

The many grim spectacles of the past few years in British politics have had a cumulative effect. One of the most significant takeouts of this era will be the failure or refusal of its leading politicians to understand the deep impact of all the various democratic crises they have visited upon the people they are supposed to serve.

It is a mark of their terminal deficiency they may not even recognise these as crisis events, preferring to categorise them as a rolling series of consequence-free cock-ups that they would soon be able overwrite in the goldfish-like public memory – usually with another scandal. Everything from the pandemic cronyism to partygate to porn-in-the-chamber to Johnson’s endless lying to the perceived Truss premium on mortgages has had the dubious benefit of being followed about 10 minutes later by another scandal to draw the eye. Or so the politicians involved in them seem to have hoped.

But if you bother listening to people outside Westminster, and away from the short-termist whirr of a dopamine-charged daily news cycle, this has not turned out to be the case. There is a huge amount of anger. Conspiracism is, in many ways understandably, on the rise. Trust in all politicians has been damaged, and distrust of democracy has inevitably followed. Still, no doubt most of Johnson’s resignation honours will be waved through. What’s another straw on the camel’s back?

[libidomechanica]

There is call; for one

A tanka sequence

               1

To want feet, and all known that one. There is call; for one has a saints, and sighs, still seek in my woes will go up from my soul loveth?

               2

Goddess was she repent all: that to with your wofull Maisters afterwards some uncertain her—let her? And fro, she gave its toy!

               3

This is the city, and faith! Not sparkling rings and feed the second self had trod down again too late discharging appetite!

               4

Of a girl, funny toil releast, there was mere sing. She nothings break thus hissing a small another Graces, groups undefiles.

               5

What doth it riseth! Fate, where you struck with what or the other. Love talents of Age, trod their death-nighing salamander his go.

               6

And ‘Madam, all eyes. The golden prime, by Nature’s the dark veins? Me, the life permit. I thanks to laughed whilst I stabbed at our conference.

               7

Yet Faithless mind; and suck’d an air that. Of her hand, with the appointments torn in act thy airy harp shall seek the circle-glory!

               8

Be a goodness its start, let me tender fingers. How Bess, the quaking of innumerable Knight! Or I tomuch beating flood!

               9

In solemn and thou falls me where is passes me more strove to the silent with his like a roe or two: but which in mine. See thee.

               10

Yours is an army should it have I heard her praise. Never be her arms and away; if one so pale like mould long may remember.

               11

Went down into his hands like a weird doubt na, lass, and spices! And if I can no horse wi’ a hushions, and a spoil with honour!

               12

Nor glance of many a sturdy stoure, so thou could not well, my insidious in absent frae her must burst his grasp. You aren’t.

               13

Skill and bone dryed vp for the outsized heart that were, sleepy arms. Better Women, gallant, you to see ye what plea by sea-girls wreaths.

               14

And thus to be so. And why the house, the boughs there! Made great cost, and soon would be understand Which, where vice triumphs to sell.

               15

Lovers’ eyes. And warmth of Indies would pleasure past on; but never rushing else to burn out of dogs, the first to think is next Heav’n.

               16

With more, speak well as Whitehall; so sorely by the thing through our euphony: the foot of Abelard it came; all cars, they do light?

               17

My echoing soul, the secret of herbs, both of his young disciple. For Right that love, the gold: his beloved you struck out you!

               18

Your knees on me. Breathes; thou emblem, like advertisements. Cut off my cold more pitied earth, and the valiant men desire or this.

               19

—But feared to increase me. Yet noble cold dull shall shall shield, where sheds, and let out to you struck in: albeit so master wrothful?

[almaqead]

"Twelve Springs." From Surah Seven, Al Araf, "The Heights."

Ramadan Day 11.

The world continues to perform budget and planning for a decade or two of war with Russia. A turning point in the US Congress, the failure of the Republican Party and its top dog, Donald Trump to respond to the Ukrainian request for humanitarian assistance has cost many their lives. News of anarchy, rape, murder, famine, disease, violence, and war all around the globe is impossible to ignore.

Philosophers and pundits and our saviors, journalists ponder the proper direction the world should take in order to ensure those of who remain untouched do not lose touch with our humane duties to those who are struggling to live another day.

It is too late to wonder how or why the world was set on fire, in many places it is too late put the fires out. But if we still believe in God we know there is a lot we can do.

7: 155-162:

Moses chose seventy men from among his people for Our appointment and, when they were seized by an earthquake,1 he cried, “My Lord! Had You willed, You could have destroyed them long ago, and me as well. Will You destroy us for what the foolish among us have done? This is only a test from You—by which You allow whoever you will to stray and guide whoever You will. You are our Guardian. So forgive us and have mercy on us. You are the best forgiver.

Ordain for us what is good in this life and the next. Indeed, we have turned to You ˹in repentance˺.” Allah replied, “I will inflict My torment on whoever I will. But My mercy encompasses everything. I will ordain mercy for those who shun evil, pay alms-tax, and believe in Our revelations.

“˹They are˺ the ones who follow the Messenger, the unlettered Prophet, whose description they find in their Torah and the Gospel.1 He commands them to do good and forbids them from evil, permits for them what is lawful and forbids to them what is impure, and relieves them from their burdens and the shackles that bound them. ˹Only˺ those who believe in him, honour and support him, and follow the light sent down to him will be successful.”

Say, ˹O Prophet,˺ “O humanity! I am Allah’s Messenger to you all. To Him ˹alone˺ belongs the kingdom of the heavens and the earth. There is no god ˹worthy of worship˺ except Him. He gives life and causes death.” So believe in Allah and His Messenger, the unlettered Prophet, who believes in Allah and His revelations. And follow him, so you may be ˹rightly˺ guided.

There are some among the people of Moses who guide with the truth and establish justice accordingly.

We divided them into twelve tribes—each as a community. And We revealed to Moses, when his people asked for water, “Strike the rock with your staff.” Then twelve springs gushed out. Each tribe knew its drinking place. We shaded them with clouds and sent down to them manna and quails,1 ˹saying˺, “Eat from the good things We have provided for you.” They ˹certainly˺ did not wrong Us, but wronged themselves.

And ˹remember˺ when it was said to them, “Enter this city ˹of Jerusalem˺ and eat from wherever you please. Say, ‘Absolve us,’ and enter the gate with humility. We will forgive your sins, ˹and˺ We will multiply the reward for the good-doers.”

But the wrongdoers among them changed the words they were commanded to say. So We sent down a punishment from the heavens upon them for their wrongdoing.

Commentary:

All we need to do is enter the Holy City and study the Quran with the belief God gave it to Muhammad precisely for times just like these. God says follow him, and you shall be rightly guided.

[qnewsau]

Paralympic champ, 78er among LGBTQIA+ Australia Day Honours

New Post has been published on https://qnews.com.au/paralympic-champ-78er-among-lgbtqia-australia-day-honours/

Paralympic champ, 78er among LGBTQIA+ Australia Day Honours

A 78er, a Paralympic champion, a HIV/AIDS pioneer, and a longtime community volunteer are among the LGBTQIA+ Aussies recognised in the 2024 Australia Day Honours.

More than 1000 people across Australia have been recognised in the 2024 Honours List for their achievements and service to the community.

Robert French (above centre), a 78er and longtime activist and historian, was awarded for his service to Australia’s LGBTQIA+ community.

A passionate historian and archivist, Robert has worked with organisations including C.A.M.P – the Campaign Against Moral Persecution, NSW Gay and Lesbian Rights Lobby, ACON and the Pride History Group.

After police violently broke up the first Mardi Gras march in Sydney, Robert protested in Sydney to demand the release of those arrested.

“On the Sunday morning, I remember hearing the news broadcasts on the ABC of the police riot and hearing both the Police Minister and also the NSW Premier trying to justify what the police did and I got very, very angry,” Robert recalled in 2020.

“Although I’d been a member of the gay community right from 1971, I actually date the Mardi Gras and that morning as the point where I actually became an activist.”

Victoria’s Colin Krycer (below) was also awarded for his service to the LGBTQIA+ community.

Colleagues have paid tribute to Colin’s “many years and countless thousands of hours” of volunteer work for people living with HIV/AIDS initially through the Victorian AIDS Council – now Thorne Harbour Health – since the late 1980s.

Colin has also worked with JOY Media since its launch in 1993 and Jewish community group Aleph Melbourne since 1997.

Congratulations to longstanding volunteer Colin Krycer on being awarded the #orderofaustralia – Colin’s volunteering includes @thorneharbour @alephmelbourne @joy949 and many other community orgs. Well deserved Colin! https://t.co/FnMkoaCqDP pic.twitter.com/vNWmwkmFvJ

— Thorne Harbour Health (@ThorneHarbour) January 25, 2024

“We are so proud of our Colin,” Aleph Melbourne co-convener Michael Barnett said.

“He is a quiet, behind-the-scenes kinda guy. He doesn’t seek or want attention, and just gives of himself, tirelessly.

“Thank you Colin for your commitment, passion, enthusiasm, guidance and sense of humour. We are so much richer for what you do and who you are.”

Australian paralympic champion Ellie Cole also received a Member of the Order of Australia (AM).

In 2021, the queer athlete became Australia’s most decorated female Paralympian, winning 17 Paralympic medals.

Ellie was awarded for her “significant service to sport as an advocate for diversity and inclusion” of Australians with a disability.

“If we can just make small changes throughout our community, and they can have access to anything that they like, the same opportunities as all of their peers, then do they actually have a disability? I’m always asking myself that question,” she told the Guardian in 2021.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Ellie Cole (@elliecoleswim)

Among the medical professionals awarded Australia Day Honours this year are a number of HIV researchers.

Professor Julian Gold was awarded “for significant service to medicine as a clinical epidemiologist and researcher, and to community health” including Australians living with HIV.

Professor Gold was appointed to Australia’s National AIDS Taskforce in 1982. A few years later, he established the first public HIV testing centre, now called The Albion Centre in Surry Hills.

Governor-General David Hurley today congratulated all of the recipients.

“Recipients come from all parts of the country. They have served and had an impact in just about every field you can imagine; their stories and backgrounds are diverse.

“We value their service, thank them for their hard work and selflessness and, today, celebrate them.

“To each recipient: know that you have the thanks and respect of your nation.

“In my experience most are humble and often try to deflect attention or praise – please enjoy the moment because your country has decided that you deserve recognition.”

For the latest LGBTIQA+ Sister Girl and Brother Boy news, entertainment, community stories in Australia, visit qnews.com.au. Check out our latest magazines or find us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube.

[atlanticcanada]

NHL's Sidney Crosby, astronaut David Saint-Jacques among 99 named to Order of Canada

David Saint-Jacques says he has always been "obsessed" with the notion of perspective -- from the physical, like understanding where we are in space and what's beyond the clouds, to the philosophical.

The Canadian astronaut and physician has had more opportunities than most to explore all the meanings of that word. He orbited Earth for 240 days and saw "just how exposed we are in the cosmos."

Then, less than a year after his stint on the International Space Station, the pandemic hit. And he spent two years working the COVID-19 units at Montreal's McGill University Health Centre, witnessing heartbreak and solidarity.

If Saint-Jacques has had a lifelong obsession with perspective, it's perhaps unsurprising that he points to the "many, many, many giants" on whose shoulders he's been standing -- and those who "made it possible for me to come back to Earth alive" -- when he is singled out to receive one of the country's highest honours.

Gov. Gen. Mary Simon announced Thursday that he and 98 others are being appointed to the Order of Canada.

Among the heavy hitters of academia, science, medicine, law and the arts are hockey star Sidney Crosby, currently the captain of the NHL's Pittsburgh Penguins, famed Hollywood impressionist Rich Little and esteemed Quebec actor Michel Cote.

Two existing appointees are being promoted to become companions to the order, the honour roll's highest status -- beloved actor Eugene Levy and Nova Scotia businessman John Bragg.

"It's very humbling, seriously, to have my name there along people who have accomplished so much on their own steam. I do feel like certainly my accomplishments as an astronaut are really the result of huge teamwork," Saint-Jacques said.

The astronaut added that the teamwork of the international space program is what gives him hope that humanity can solve its biggest problems. It's like "a bridge that we built that's always open," he said, no matter what is unfolding on the ground.

Another new officer in the order is Harry LaForme, who became Canada's first Indigenous appellate court judge in 2004.

While serving on the Ontario Superior Court in 2002, LaForme authored an important decision that led to the legalization of same-sex marriage in Ontario, finding that denying same-sex couples the right to marry violated their equality rights. Gay marriage became legal in Ontario a year later.

"It was quite an easy decision for me to make," he said. "The clarity comes from living a life of being oppressed and being denied rights."

LaForme spoke about growing up on a First Nation reserve, living through a period when, "You had to get permission to go off the reserve" and speaking to his grandfather, whose life had been overtaken by the department of Indian Affairs, about the erosion of their Indigenous language.

He said he has always remembered what the then-Liberal justice minister, Irwin Cotler, told him upon his appointment to the appeals court.

"I said, 'Why did you pick me?' And he said, 'Well, somebody who knows justice will be somebody who has experienced injustice.' And that resonated with me."

When people say that he was ahead of his time on the same-sex marriage decision and on another that paved the way for legal use of cannabis for medical purposes, LaForme disagrees. "I think that was exactly the right time to be doing it."

LaForme and Juanita Westmoreland-Traore delivered a report to the federal justice minister in late 2021 that envisions an independent commission to consider wrongful conviction applications. And he is taking on cases related to the over-incarceration of Indigenous Peoples in his role as senior counsel at Olthuis Kleer Townshend LLP.

"Anything is better than what we do right now," he said, urging the government to do better on the issue and follow through on his recommendations. "We've got to care about the people that are incarcerated."

LaForme is not the only Order of Canada appointee who is being recognized for extraordinary achievements but who feels that their work is far from over.

Ronald Deibert, a University of Toronto professor and founder of its unique Citizen Lab, is being recognized "for his leadership and expertise in digital technology, security and human rights, and for his groundbreaking contributions to cybersecurity around the globe."

No institution houses anything quite like the lab, which combines research from different disciplines to pull back the curtain on cybersecurity. Its reports are informing international policy and global approaches to combating mercenary spyware.

"I wanted to create a counter-intelligence capacity for global civil society, and that's effectively what we do," Deibert said. He added that his role is like that of a coach or a general manager on a hockey team, and he feels he is receiving the honour on behalf of the group of professionals who conduct that work.

Deibert, who recently briefed the White House and other high-level audiences about cybersecurity risks, said he's hoping for more acknowledgment of the problem from the Canadian government. He accused Ottawa of being "asleep at the wheel."

But he expressed gratitude for being recognized with the accolade, calling it a surreal experience.

"I grew up in a working-class east Vancouver neighbourhood. I didn't even think I would get much beyond high school, and within my family, I think as far as you can go, I was the only person to go to university," he said.

"To get this award is just a huge recognition for someone like me and I think others who may be in that position. It just goes to show that … if you care about what you do, you're passionate and you work hard, it pays off."

Simon said in a statement that the appointees' commitment to the betterment of Canada fills her with pride and hope for the future.

"Celebrated trailblazers in their respective fields, they are inspiring, educating and mentoring future generations, creating a foundation of excellence in our country that is respected throughout the world," her statement said.

The Governor General will offer the awardees their Order of Canada insignia at an investiture ceremony, with the details yet to be announced.

This report by The Canadian Press was first published Dec. 29, 2022.

------

Appointments to the Order of Canada

Gov. Gen. Mary Simon has appointed the following people, who were recommended for appointment by the Advisory Council of the Order of Canada:

Companions

-- John Louis Bragg (This is a promotion within the order)

-- Eugene Levy (This is a promotion within the order)

Officers

-- Gordon John Glenn Asmundson

-- Lise Francoise Aubut

-- James Ashley Corcoran

-- Michel Cote

-- Sidney Patrick Crosby

-- Eleanor Joanne Daley

-- Ronald James Deibert

-- Allen Charles Edward Eaves

-- Robert Alan Ezrin

-- Victor Jay Garber

-- Andre Gaudreault

-- Paula Beth Gordon

-- Laurence A. Gray

-- Eva Grunfeld

-- Budd Lionel Hall

-- Michael Douglas Hill

-- Walter William Jule Jr.

-- The Honourable Harry S. LaForme

-- Bernard Joseph Lapointe

-- Pierre Lassonde

-- Andreas Laupacis

-- Yves Lenoir

-- David Frederick Ley

-- Richard Caruthers Little

-- Gerald James Lozinski and Joan Mary Lozinski

-- Ivar Mendez

-- The Honourable Gerald M. Morin

-- Eli Rubenstein

-- David Saint-Jacques

-- Brian Edward Stewart

-- Barbara Lewis Zimmerman

Members

-- Jean Aitcheson

-- Shelley Diane Ambrose

-- Ted Barris

-- Marie-Dominique Beaulieu

-- Stephen Alfred Bell

-- John J. M. Bergeron

-- Kevin Luke Blackmore

-- Sheila Ruth Black

-- Bernard Joseph Bocquel

-- Louis Andre Borfiga

-- Yvonne Bonnie Bressette

-- Andre H. Caron

-- Timothy Allen Caulfield

-- The Honourable Maria Emma Chaput

-- Wayne Chaulk

-- Angela Ella Cooper Brathwaite

-- Alan Cote

-- Armand Calixte Doucet

-- Douglas Allen Dunsmore

-- Konrad Eisenbichler

-- Carolyn R. Freeman

-- Patricia Garel

-- Felix Gauthier

-- Samuel Gewurz

-- Hamlin Washington Grange

-- Allan Edward Gross

-- Feridun Hamdullahpur

-- Lori Haskell

-- Raymond John Johnson

-- Colleen Patricia Jones

-- Martin F. Katz

-- Simon Sean Keith

-- Warren Charles Seymour Kimel

-- Donald Arnold Kossick

-- Stephane Laporte

-- Karina Chenelle LeBlanc

-- Philippe Lette

-- Frederick John Longstaffe

-- John Robert Lounds

-- Brian Gerald MacKay-Lyons

-- Conor Gerard Maguire

-- Michael Massey

-- Jacqueline Mary Elizabeth Maxwell

-- Marc Daniel Mayer

-- Heather Mary McGregor

-- Roderick McKendrick

-- Bill Howard Namagoose

-- Patricia Margaret Ningewance

-- Michele Ouimet

-- Pitman Benjamin Potter

-- Benoit Robert

-- Frantz Saintellemy

-- Raymond Saint-Pierre

-- Victor Sarin

-- Michael Schmidt

-- Gary S. Segal

-- Lorraine P. Segato

-- William George Sembo

-- Mark Geoffrey Sirett

-- Donat Taddeo

-- Laurier Thibault

-- Mac Van Wielingen

-- Stanley Vollant

-- The Honourable Konrad Winrich Graf Finck von Finckenstein

-- Richard Weisel

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/arN1pSx

[useless-catalanfacts]

Alexia and Barca participated in a flower laying ceremony today. I was reaching out to see if you could explain what the ceremony is for please? I don’t know much about Catalonia and it’s history but I’m trying to better educate myself after visiting Barcelona

(Sorry for the late answer.)

Yes! That was the annual flower offering to the statue of Rafael Casanova in homage of the defenders of Barcelona.

1. The history: 1714

Rafael Casanova was a general who led the defence of Barcelona during the siege in the end of the War of the Spanish Succession (to sum up very quickly, the war in which Spain invaded the Catalan Countries and Aragon because they were arguing about the dynasty that should be in the monarchy), in the year 1714. The Siege of Barcelona was at the very end of the war, when almost all the country had been occupied by the Spanish and French troops (France was allied with Spain), but Barcelona being the capital city, it was important that it resisted. The siege was very cruel for the population: they were being bombed and they had run out of food months before it ended, people were left homeless and had to eat rats and even eat the corpses of people who died in the bombs.

Still, the population of Barcelona resisted until the very last minute it was possible. On the 11th of September of 1714, the Spanish and French troops attacked the baluards and entered the city, and conquered it. This had horrible results for the population. On the political side, Spain militarily occupied Catalonia and considered it theirs by right of conquest, so they made the "Nueva Planta decrees" which abolished the Catalan institutions and laws and imposed the Spanish institutions and absolute monarchy "appointed by God" (Catalonia didn't have an absolute monarchy before this), imposed Spanish governors as the rulers, prohibited the use of Catalan language in official documents (only Spanish or Latin was allowed), Catalan people were forced to pay very high taxes to pay for their own occupation and were forced to host the Spanish troops in their homes, Catalans were forced to give a big part of their harvest to be food for the Spanish army's horses, Catalans were forbidden for having weapons (even kitchen knives had to be chained to the table), and a long etc.

When it comes to the population, the Spanish occupation made sure to punish as many as possible. For example, dozens of villages and cities were burned down after the had already been occupied, not as part of the war but as part of the punishment.

This map shows the places that were burned down -when it says “crema”-, whose inhabitants were massacred -when it says “massacre”-, and when it says “delme de forca” it means a kind of repression that the Spanish king Philip V used only against Catalans in which one tenth of the prisoners were chosen randomly to be executed.

The local leaders of the resistance were executed, and often through humiliating ways. One of the most famous examples is the general Josep Moragues i Mas, who was captured and put on trial and tortured, and was sentenced to death. He was executed in 1715, and nowadays maybe we would think that the bad thing is to be killed and not so much how you’re killed, but in the 18th century respecting honour was very important, even with your enemies, and he was humiliated because of that. He was forced to wear a penitent’s shirt and be barefoot and was dragged alive through the floors of Barcelona, tied to the horse that was taking him to the gallows. There, on top of what he had been put through, he was executed publicly with no recognition of his rank nor military honours, which is a huge punishment in the culture of the time. Then, he was beheaded and his body was then cut into pieces. His head was put inside a cage and displayed above one of the main entrance gates to Barcelona (Portal de Mar) with an inscription in Latin that said “Josep Moragues, for having committed the crime of a repeated rebellion, having abused twice of royal clemency, finally, the third time he was imprisoned and executed by justice” in reference to him resisting until the end of the war. His widowed wife spent years asking for mercy so that the authorities would take his head out of that public exhibition place. In the end, they agreed to take down his head in 1727, after 12 years of being exposed.

This is just to give an image of how the defeat affected the Catalan people. For this reason, the events of 1714 are highly symbolic to us, because they represent the moment that our independence was lost and the beginning of the repression of our culture, language and identity. For this same reason, the 11th of September (the day that Barcelona lost the siege, in that same 1714) is Catalonia’s national day, in commemoration of the fight that isn’t over.

2. The statue: made, lost, and found

In the 1880s, the Barcelona city hall was preparing to host the 1888 Universal Exposition. For this event, cities build avenues and buildings to hold the exposition that somehow represent their history. Barcelona made an avenue and commissioned statues of important men of Catalonia’s history: intellectuals, artists, statesmen, etc. One of them was this statue to Rafael Casanova, which represented a homage to all the Catalans who fought to defend the city and country in the War of Spanish Succession.

Ever since it was set up, people went to bring flowers to the statue. Then, in 1897, left-wing pro-Catalan organizations established the annual tradition of bringing flower offerings every 11th of September.

People gather around Rafael Casanova’s statue and cover it in flower crowns. 11th of September, 1914.

It wasn’t always easy. In 1901, the offering had become important enough that the police arrested people with the only accusation of having laid flowers to the statue. And it only got worse with Primo de Rivera’s dictatorship of Spain (1923-1930), a proto-fascist dictatorship with Catalanophobia as one of its pilars. The dictatorship prohibited the use of the Catalan language, prohibited exhibiting the Catalan flag, and any public display of Catalan identity. Any disobeying was harshly repressed, so for this reason, the flower offering was stopped.

As soon as that dictatorship ended, people went to make the flower offering again, with more participants than ever. But that only lasted until 1938, because in 1939 another Catalanophobic fascist dictatorship started: Franco’s (1939-1978). This dictatorship took down all the monuments that had to do with Catalan history or identity, as well as all leftist symbols. They took away the statue and destroyed the gardens where it was placed, but that night people filled the (now empty) place with flowers and someone left a sign that said “ja creixeràs”, which in Catalan means “your time to grow will come”. To avoid this action to repeat, the police watched the monument the following night.

Many statues around the city (and country) were destroyed by the dictatorship, only 5 bronze statues were saved in all of Barcelona, one of which was this, thanks to some city hall officials who argued that these ones were property of the city hall (unlike others that were property of unions, parties or organizations), and so the statue was kept away in a storehouse. Fearing that the fascists would destroy the statue even if it was not in a public space, they built a brick wall to hide the statue, and the statue was “lost” until after the dictatorship had ended.

In 1976, right after the dictator’s death, a committee from Catalonia’s Art Museum went to this storehouse and took the statues that were hidden there. But they realised that what the building looked like outside and inside didn’t match, and eventually found out the secret hiding place.

In 1977, they placed the statue back on the streets, in the place where Rafael Casanova had gotten shot in the battle of the Siege of Barcelona.

11th of September, 1977. A massive demonstration in favour of Catalonia’s sovereignty was held in Barcelona.

Since then, pro-Catalan unions, associations, parties, sports clubs, and many other kinds of civic associations bring a flower offering every 11th of September.

Barça football club takes part in the flower offering since the year 1919.

[sokkagatekeeper]

Do u have any analysis on iroh? i didnt mind him as a character when i watched the show cause i find him pretty minor and mostly useful to zuko’s arc. But the more fandom analysis I read of him the more I dislike him. People often seem to just boil him down to a sweet wise old man and just ignore the fact that he is a whole war criminal and an adult who was not abused by the system in the way that zuko was that messed with his development. Are we supposed to believe that he didn’t know right from wrong until being an earth peasant? I just can’t see it. And while he took back ba sing se as his destiny, I don’t know that he ever repented personally for his own sins and the sins of the fire nation the way we as an audience come to understand as important through zuko doing them.

ok, iroh is... nuanced. and this fandom is very bad at nuance. so, first, here are a few things that are not true about iroh:

iroh has done no wrong/iroh has fully atoned for all of his actions/iroh was really just a sweet old man all along/iroh is categorically a good person

fortunately, given most of what i see on tumblr, i don't feel the need to elaborate much on why this one isn't true. iroh has committed atrocities. it took him very late into his life to stop actively contributing to the fire nation's imperialism, and he only gave up any of his privileges as a prince/esteemed general when it was for zuko's sake. he is not in any way oblivious to the harm he caused, and it isn't possible for him to cancel it out somehow.

a few of the harmful things that iroh has done canonically, whether or not it is acknowledged as harmful in the show, are: his past actions as an imperialist general; misogyny (especially his creepy treatment of june); neglecting azula and dismissing her as “crazy” (although to be fair, he was pretty preoccupied with zuko. i also think the interpretation that iroh hated azula because he saw himself in her could be really interesting); and the fact that he couldn’t find a middle ground when reaching out to zuko wrt zuko’s difficulty with understanding riddles or their purpose and the fact that he finds direct approaches and teachings a lot easier to understand (which is hardly iroh’s fault directly, but still). one would think after at least five years of being there for the child, iroh would figure out zuko wasn’t getting the vibe of his proverbs. and even though he was a defining factor in zuko’s journey in understanding the world better and becoming a better person one could still argue these... parenting methods were not iroh’s brightest move. plus, iroh totally did not get that zuko was gay (another aspect of his misogyny i.e. homophobia!).

iroh was wrong to appoint zuko as fire lord; he should've taken the job himself.

“should zuko have become fire lord at the end of atla?” is one of the most complicated questions about this entire show. but yes, he's a traumatized 16-year-old, and running a country would not be good for him. however. i think you (you, anon, and anyone else who doesn't idealize iroh) understand full well that iroh should not be fire lord, that he's not the right person to lead this new era of the world. in fact, the show itself spells it out for you. when zuko asks if iroh is planning on becoming fire lord, iroh responds,

No. Someone new must take the throne. An idealist with a pure heart and unquestionable honour. It has to be you, Prince Zuko. Yes, you have [made many mistakes]. You struggled, you suffered but you have always followed your own path, you restored your own honour. And only you can restore the honour of the Fire Nation.

iroh understands that he can't right his wrongs, and that zuko is younger, has done less harm, and has done more to atone for his wrongs than iroh has and that therefore zuko is much more fit to be fire lord than he is.

of course, one should certainly think that iroh should better help zuko with his fire lord duties rather than stay in some other country running a tea shop. it does make me uncomfortable how the show seems to say that iroh just ran off to ba sing se when the story ended. but it is pretty reasonable (and beneficial to our collective mental health honestly) to assume that iroh helped the way he could; it would be out of character for him not to, even if the show doesn't really say that he did.

iroh didn't have a redemption arc/iroh's redemption arc took place pre-canon

iroh absolutely had a redemption arc, and it took place during the course of the show. the idea of a “redemption arc” taking place pre-canon makes no sense; a redemption arc is an element of a narrative. i think this confusion comes from the fact that zuko's redemption arc is largely about learning just how much harm the fire nation had caused and realizing that he doesn't stand for that, whereas iroh already knew how much harm the fire nation had caused and that he didn't stand for it, but also didn't actively stand against it.

iroh's redemption arc consisted mostly of two things: helping zuko along his redemption arc, and beginning to actually fight against the fire nation.

iroh's primary motivation throughout the story was being a good father figure to zuko. he saw zuko as a do-over—both in that he wanted to raise someone to be better than him (i.e., someone who would learn that the fire nation was in the wrong earlier in life and fight back against it), and in that he wanted a second chance at being a father after lu ten's early death, fighting to conquer ba sing se. and he succeeded! zuko ended up doing much more at a much younger age to end the war than iroh. and, unlike lu ten, zuko survived! i don't think i need to spell out for you how important iroh was on zuko's journey to unlearn fire nation propaganda.

and, iroh himself also took an active role in ending the war, by gathering the white lotus and reconquering ba sing se. i do think it's unrealistic that the white lotus would allow someone who had very recently been an esteemed fire nation general to not only become a grand lotus, but to lead the mission, but it does makes a lot of sense in terms of the narrative. the greatest harm iroh caused was when he laid siege to ba sing se, so what better way to (begin to partially) atone for that than reconquering the city in the name of the earth kingdom?

one could argue that iroh did not fully atone for his lifetime of wrongdoings within the world he lives, and while that is up for debate (and in my personal opinion, for example, helping zuko ruling and with the decolonization of the fire nation after the war would be a very important pillar in him atoning for his imperialism), iroh’s redemption is narratively complete and well-rounded. as mentioned above, a redemption arc is something that happens within the narrative. the world iroh is living in will be looking for his reparations, which iroh does owe even at the end of the show. but then again, so does zuko.

iroh did more harm than zuko and suffered less for it, and therefore he doesn't “deserve redemption”

the entire concept of “deserving redemption” makes no sense, but more to the point, there's no such thing as an inherent moral value to suffering. how much a character suffers does not imply anything about how “redeemable” they are. while suffering may make a redemption arc more digestible to the viewers through the empathy it generates, and while suffering may in some way cause a character to seek redemption, redemption is ultimately a choice a character makes and continues to do until they have (narratively) atoned for their wrongdoings. and like it or not, iroh makes that choice the same way zuko does (but also differently. it's complicated).

iroh isn't wise/kind

this just. isn't true? he's compassionate and he gives great advice, and that is not negated by (nor does it negate) the harm he has caused. to take away redeeming qualities from a morally gray character or villain is, first of all, fundamentally contradictory to the themes atla presents surrounding the deconstruction of dignity — the entire reason why ozai was not just a monster, he was just a guy, some pathetic guy in possession of a bunch of undeserved power gained through propaganda and violence. dehumanizing iroh through his demonization, i.e., seeing morally gray and/or especially (ex) imperialist characters as irredeemable and inhuman is not a particularly progressive nor intelligent thing to do, and the refusal to search for nuance makes you (a general you) more likely to fall for propaganda.

iroh was portrayed by the narrative as entirely good

this one is a bit tricky, because can be difficult to separate fandom perception of a character from the character themself. and lots of atla fans are really weird about iroh, and think of him as all those things mentioned in the first bullet point. and the show itself does, in fact, promote that perception of his character to an extent. for example, i think that the whole thing with the dragons is kind of messed up; he was judged as “worthy” by the dragons long before he changed his beliefs/actions, which is um. not great? but for the most part, iroh is framed through a very morally gray lens, aknowledged by himself that he is in fact not a good person, as well as other characters such as sokka pointing it out. the framing his characer receives is incredibly relevant.

so. obviously, this is a controversial topic and we are definitely open to disagreement (as long as it is done in good faith), but the way that people often act as if iroh has done nothing wrong, and the way that people write posts “canceling” him are just... dumb? he's a complex character and while it can be fun to be reductive sometimes, it's far more interesting to explore his complexities.