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lazydoodlesandfanfic · 11 months

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There For Me (Harley Quinn X Batsis!Reader)

Characters: Harley Quinn X Batsis!Reader, Batfam X Batsis!Reader

Universe: DC, Batman

Warnings: Unhealthy family relationships (Parentification) Mild mention of a past abusive relationship (Harley & Joker) Mention of stalking, mention of death

Request: A bruce wayne and daughter, she is an adult. Mainly responsible for her siblings. She is sick of being the responible one. She is really good friends with harley and ivy and they take her in. She is secrectly dating harley. Batman comes too take her back but she tells him she is very happy and harley protects her girlfriend. Bruce accepts and lets them be.

Notes: Kind of strayed from the request near the end, I kind of got carried away with this lol

Ever since you were a child, you were well aware that your relationship and role within your family was different to a lot of other families. It wasn’t the norm by any sense, even for Gotham. Your mom was never in the picture, leaving you in the hospital you were born in with a note about where to find your dad, and after a test to confirm it, you were sent to live with your dad, who at the time was the opposite of responsible, and was a mess still, if the whole getting a woman pregnant who then left you without a second thought wasn’t something to go by. It was no surprise that Alfred ended up being your actual primary caregiver for your early years. That, and the whole secret life as Batman he actually had the foresight to know it was best you didn’t know about.

You found out when you were 10, coming down in the middle of the night for something to drink after a nightmare, finding your dad badly beaten and barely conscious in the kitchen, also looking for something to drink. You stared at each other for a moment in horror, but after a moment, you swallowed, grabbing a cup, getting some cold water, and went back to bed without a word. Bruce told Alfred what happened, and Alfred explained everything after school the next day. That day changed a lot for you. You realised partly why your dad was almost always absent, that Alfred was helping him keep your city safe, and that anytime you needed help with something was basically time taken away from Alfred that he could be spending making sure your dad wasn’t bleeding out somewhere or in need of help. As soon as you got home that day, you immediately began the process of becoming as independent as possible.

By the time your dad brought Dick home, you were entirely independent, but also very emotionally cut off from your dad and Alfred. You didn’t interact with Dick for a few days until he was up in the middle of the night due to a nightmare, and you came down as well, fixing a snack to share and then going back up to his room to keep him occupied till he was ready to go back to bed. It was after that point that Dick started to open up a bit more, especially with you. After Dick had grown into an adult and you two spent a night off drinking and catching up, he admitted to you that when he first joined the family, he wasn’t sure on what your role was in it, thinking maybe you were a recent adoptee as well and just weren’t adjusting well, and it took over a month for him to realise you were Bruce’s biological kid.

When Jason arrived, you already had a rough idea of what to do as your role as a big sister to dysfunctional traumatised little brothers, though Jason’s anger issues did make it a bit more difficult to bond with him. However, you quickly found that if you challenged his own anger with your silent resentment and frustration with your dad for not actually doing what a dad is supposed to, you two would actually bond over your frustrations, cause a bit of havoc together to blow of some steam.

Jason exposed you to two things. One, he showed you that you had every right to be more angry with Bruce about the fact that you had to raise yourself and now the kids he was bringing into the manor than you are. Two, it was because of you two causing a bit of mischief that you met Harley Quinn.

You had been doing some art outside to release some of your emotions in a healthy way, or as Bruce would call it, Vandalism in the form of graffiti, when you heard police sirens, and you both scattered to get away from the scene, getting separated and you ended up on the bad side of town, and was just trying to find a safe route home without having to call anyone, especially Bruce or Alfred, for help, and hoping that Jason was okay. Unfortunately, you ended up crossing paths with a group of business students, who decided to catcall, harass, and after you ignored them completely, decided to start following you. Fortunately, it was then that you took a sharp turn to try and lose them and bumped right into Harley, who was with her own posse of goons. You two stared at each other for no longer than a second, and in that second, you two had entire conversation purely through your eyes. Then she heard the men behind you, far enough away to not see who you had bumped into to realise they should run, but close enough for Harley to hear them laugh and tell the men surrounding her to grab you for them. He face contorted to anger for a moment.

“They bothering you?” She asked shortly, and you nodded, honestly scared to mutter a word. She took your arm, pulling you behind her. “Boys, time to teach these men some manners!” She ordered, and in a matter of seconds, Harley’s goons were chasing the men down the street and out of sight. You couldn’t help the small laugh that left your mouth at the sight. “You alright? Did they grab ya?”

“No- no, they were just being creeps. Thanks.” You told her as she turned back to you, the streetlamp now lighting up your face better, and she was able to see your face clearer, and also now actually identify you, and you saw her eyes widen and realised she knew who you were.

“Aren’t you Wayne’s daughter? What you doing out here? I’m sure daddy wouldn’t approve of you being out here.” She stated, hands on her hips, almost motherly, which was funny considering that you weren’t even a teenager anymore, now a young woman in your early twenties, only about 5-6 years younger than Harley.

“I was supposed to be supervising my little brother while he released some stress in some street art.” You told her. She arched an eyebrow.

“You and the younger Wayne were doing vandalism?” She clarified, and she saw the twinge of a smirk on your face before you tucked it back, and she grinned. “I like you, little trouble maker! Where’s your brother now?”

“I don’t know, honestly. We heard sirens nearby and scattered. He’s a lot more street smart than me though- obviously.” You said, gesturing down the street to the incident Harley just prevented.

“Why not call your dad?” She asked, and you couldn’t help the loud and quick laugh that left you, which told her a lot. “You two… not close?”

“No… never were, honestly… I uh, I’ve always looked after myself, and these days I’m looking after my adoptive siblings. Bruce isn’t good with the whole kids having emotions things, so I’m trying to help Jason get his anger out in ways that don’t involve needing first aid kits constantly stocked up.” You explained to her, hands in your pockets, rocking back and forth, finding it hard to stand still. You had no clue why you were admitting all this to Harley, especially since she was literally an enemy of your dad, but the way she had immediately defended you, and was taking the time to listen to you made you feel safe with her.

“That sucks, toots… you must be pretty lonely… say, if you ever find yourself back out here or just want a call or something and rant, call this number, okay? I might not answer right away, this is kind of a private cell, so don’t tell anyone, but I’ll get back to you, okay?” She said, plucking a gel pen from a pocket of her loud chequered jacket, grabbing your arm to pull your hand out your pocket and noting down a number on your palm. When she was done, she tucked it back into her pocket. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the edge of the nicer part of town, okay?” She said, wrapping her arm in yours and pulling you along with her. She did as she said, walking you to a safer part of town, reminding you to call her if needed (also if you couldn’t find Jason so she could look for him for you) and you parted ways.

She was the one you ended up calling when Jason was killed.

You didn’t talk to anyone for over a month after his death, other than the odd text to Dick to respond to him or to just make sure he was alright, but one night when things were really bad for you- your dad basically nearly killing himself every night, Alfred locked up in the cave trying to prevent him from actually dying, Dick away doing his own thing after arguing with Bruce, you were entirely alone in your mourning, completely lost in what you’re supposed to do next. You had no little brother to keep your mind busy with worrying and caring for, no one to make you feel needed. No one to make you feel wanted. You were completely alone.

You had called her as a last ditch effort, seeing no harm in at least trying, remembering she was once a psychiatrist. And sure, she was once affiliated with the Joker, but she had distanced herself from him, clearly a victim herself, and had been keeping a low profile ever since. You weren’t even sure she would pick up, probably changing her number, but she did pick up. “Hello?”

“Harley?” You asked in a whisper. “This is… um, it’s Y/N. Wayne… you um, helped me out a while ago with some creeps, gave me this number…” You recollected to her.

“I remember… heard about your brother… Not gonna say sorry, I’m pretty sure you’ve heard it a billion times and I’m probably a person you don’t wanna hear it from… you doing okay?”

“Not really…” You admitted, sniffling. “I’m not doing good… I know you said to call if I needed help with something… I just… I’m alone and I don’t want to be. Is there somewhere we can just meet even if it’s just for an hour?” You asked.

“Yeah of course!” You weren’t honestly expecting her immediate agreement. “We can have a girl’s night, me, you, and Ivy- I’ve been staying with her for a while now, I’m sure she won’t mind! Where do you want to meet?”

You met her a few blocks away, and she walked with you to a small one bedroom apartment where Ivy was waiting already, lounged on the cramped couch. She didn’t ask questions as Harley introduced you as Bruce Wayne’s daughter, who was in need of some TLC after everything that happened with Jason, in fact the only questions she asked was “Do you want to get wasted or hold onto the pillow of emotions and tell us all about it?”

“The pillow of emotions?” You asked, and she held up the pillow right next to her- a blanket, that even in the dim lighting you could tell was as soft as a childhood teddy, the perfect size and shape to squeeze tightly as you cried your eyes out. You pointed to it, and she handed it over, and it wasn’t long till you were on the couch next to Ivy, Harley sat on the floor, both women listening and nodding along as you hugged the pillow, sobbing and ranting about everything. From you basically being raised by Alfred, to you being more like a mother than a sister to Dick and Jason despite not even being that much older than Dick, and how because of that, you felt like a failure when Jason died, like you failed at being his protector, and how now you were all alone- Dick doing his own thing, your dad acting like Jason never even existed, and Alfred being too busy making sure your dad was actually caring for himself to notice you might even need help.

Honestly, a part of you expected these women, who themselves had been through hell and way worse than you, to roll their eyes, point out how you had daddy’s money to buy a therapist and figure it out yourself, but they didn’t. In fact in the end, when you finally got it all off your chest, both wrapped you in their arms, promising you that they were there, that they cared, and that this apartment always had space for you if you ever wanted to get away. You found yourself there at least once a week. When Bruce brought Tim home, you fluctuated between spending almost every day there or being at home keeping an eye and trying to care for the new brother, until Tim expressed his independence and you went back to spending more time with the girls.

5 years after Jason’s death, a lot of things changed.

One, your friendship with Harley became more than a friendship, and you three mutually agreed that it was time for an upgrade in apartment, and you officially moved out, creating much more distance between yourself and your dad, though with Tim around and Bruce now getting more of a grip on his self-destructive behaviours, you were able to call and come visit Alfred, Tim and Dick who had moved back in on occasion, though you now mostly interacted with Dick and Tim (who had warmed up to you a lot more) outside of the manor.

Two, Jason came back. It was shocking for everyone involved, especially since he was full to the brim of rage and fury, especially against Bruce. He worked with Scarecrow to poison the entire city, and the second you heard it was him through Dick, you tried to leave the safety of the apartment that you had promised your girlfriend you wouldn’t leave to try and find him, only for Ivy to find you quickly, seeing you in a panic and trying to run into the city without anyway to protect yourself, and in fear that you’d been affected by the fear toxin, she sedated you herself until it was all over and hopefully the toxin had left your body. When she woke you up with Harley there, your immediate question was if Jason was okay. Harley thought you were having issues with your memory due to the sedation and the toxin, but after talking with you for longer, explaining the call you had gotten from Dick, and also letting slip that your family was also the bat family, and that Jason was the Robin that had been killed, the girls gave you the rundown of what they knew. Bruce was alive. Dick and Tim were alive, and the Arkham Knight, who was apparently Jason, had disappeared, not confirmed alive or dead. Harley escorted you back to the manor to get answers on what happened, and to try and get in contact with Jason. You got confirmation that he was alive, but was still pissed off at Bruce and was not contacting the family for the time being.

That didn’t sit right with you. So you went out into the city to one of the places you two would hang around, mess around, graffiti, where you’d complain about Bruce together, and had the best time of your lives. And you waited. And waited. You ignored all your phone calls and texts, simply dropping a text to Harley promising you’d be home soon and you were alright before turning your phone off, and waited more. When the air started to become too nippy for you as you continued to pace in the small snicket, head low, arms crossed and noticing you could see your breath now, you finally thought about leaving. Giving up for now, trying another day or another technique. It was then you felt something heavy drop on your shoulders, and someone pat you on the back. You looked up, startled at the tall man beside you, but even more so at his features that you could recognize instantly. “Jason?” You asked, getting a faint smile from him. That was all you needed, pulling the man into a tight hug, his heavy leather jacket nearly falling off your shoulders.

You caught up with Jason. You told him how you’d moved out of the manor, how no one in the family actually knew where you lived, and you let the cat out the bag about your roommates being Ivy and Harley, who was actually your girlfriend, and how you met Harley that night where you two got separated in the city, and how she was the one you came to when he died. In classic Jason style, he was far more angry over the fact that Bruce totally left you alone to mourn him and you had to turn to another victim of Joker’s for comfort than you living with two criminals and dating one. In fact, he warmed up pretty quickly to it, knowing they at least can protect you ‘unlike Bruce’. He walked you home, promising to be in touch. You went inside, seeing Harley beside herself with worry, and after her throwing herself at you to hold you close and make sure you were alright, you told her everything, and after Jason and you got a form of communication, Harley and Ivy gave Jason the thumbs up to be allowed into the girl cave, the only real rule being to not tell Bruce or the others about the living arrangement in any way, which was easy enough.

For a while, things were tense but working in the Wayne family. Jason was still limited to no contact with Bruce, only talking to Dick on occasion when they ran into each other, but almost all contact between them was through you, which resulted in you having more contact with Bruce, though things were still incredibly tense between you two, so often Dick and Tim became a filter for you both, which you despised. Still, the boys would always called you when they needed you, and so it was them who called you to let you know that Bruce had another child- this one biologically his. Your half brother. Damian.

You let yourself into the manor, quickly rushing down into the cave to hear everyone bickering, Dick and your now youngest brother in the midst of a fight, though when Bruce spotted you and called your name, they stopped and looked at you. Damian stepped towards you, and Dick immediately held one of his Escrima sticks in front of him to stop him, and Tim stepped forward to be in front of you slightly, telling you that those two didn’t trust him to not hurt you. You patted Tim on the shoulder to tell him it was alright before stepping around him, and then you looked at Dick. “Put it away.” You told him. He did as told, though hesitantly. Damian remained still, though he glared at you. You showed him the palms of your hands casually. “No weapons on me, other than a taser, but that’s for creeps in the street.” You told him.

“Who are you?” He demanded. “Another stray my father picked up off the streets?” Ah. Volatile, lashing out, not caring about hurting feelings. Reminded you of a certain someone…

“In a way, I guess. I’m your sister. Your half sister. Biologically related.” You explained, nodding your head in your father’s direction, who was stood off to the side. His eyes widened, before his eyebrows knitted together and his frown deepended.

“I wasn’t aware father had an older child.”

“Yeah, he had me pretty young, and I’ve mostly been out of the spotlight- I like keeping a low profile.” You explained to him, stepping forward casually. “I always joked that father dearest never wanted a girl and always wanted to only have boys- why he had Dick, Tim and Jason, so hopefully now you’re here, I don’t have to worry about raising anymore boys on his behalf.” You joked, offering a hand to him. You felt Dick and Tim tense at your action and proximity. Damian stared at your hand, then back at you, before taking your hand and you shaked it with a smile. “Welcome to the family, Damian. I’m Y/N, the eldest Wayne sibling, and your big sister. If you need anything, anything at all, you call for me, okay? I’ll be there.”

You kept that promise to him, like you had the boys. He didn’t call you or contact you for a good few months. He only really interacted with you when either Bruce, Alfred or one of the other boys called for you and you went to the manor to negotiate, or to meet one of them on patrol to talk, and he was tagging along with them because Bruce didn’t trust him alone, but he witnessed his ‘brothers’ call you the second they had a problem, especially at home with Bruce, and every time you picked up, arranged to meet them, and came over. At first he hated how you got into fights with Bruce, especially when advocating for Jason, but when he realised that you were doing it on the boys behalf, especially when you got into a fight with Bruce for him regarding his grades and getting calls from teachers, he finally asked Dick for your phone number, and he asked to speak with you while he was on patrol. You agreed, arranging to meet him nearby.

“You okay Damian?” You asked as soon as you saw him in the snicket. He nodded, not saying anything at first. “You haven’t ever called me before, so something big must have happened.”

“Why do you fight for me and the others on our behalf to father?” He asked bluntly. You stared surprised for a moment, before walking closer to him.

“I don’t have a good relationship with…father. Never have, and I’ve accepted I’ll probably never will. A long time ago, I just kept my mouth shut, let him ignore my existence despite living in the same building, and I was mostly alone. The Dick came along, and he was far more present for him than he ever was for me, but still, he wasn’t… there, there. He was still lacking, mostly emotionally, and I found myself just… filling the gap. Making up where he missed the mark. I looked after Dick when he was going through mourning of his parents, I was the one who helped Jason get some of his anger out, I was the only one who accepted Tim into the family from the get-go… I’m the one the boys call when they need help. Not Bruce… My girlfriend- don’t tell dad about her- is a psychiatrist, and she calls it parentification. It’s when a child, often the oldest, takes on a role similar to that of a parent, caring for younger siblings, and at times, the parents themselves. It complicates relationships between the younger ones and the eldest as well- like you boys turning to me rather than Bruce when you have issues. It usually damages the relationships in the family later on.” You explained to him.

“Do you resent father for doing that?” He asked. You knew you couldn’t lie to Damian- he wasn’t naive by any sense, and you guessed he’d tell you were lying.

“Honestly? Yes. Absolutely. I didn’t have a childhood, and I had to grow up quickly to care for the boys he chose to have.”

“Do you resent Dick, Jason and Tim? Do you resent me? You said yourself you think he only wanted boys, and while I’m biologically his like you, he’s present for me like he was Dick.” He inquired. You stepped even closer till you were both straining your necks to meet eye contact. You reached out, holding his face with your hands, warming his cheeks with your calms.

“Never… Those few years before Dick came home… were some of the worst years of my life. I was… so alone. When you boys showed up, I wasn’t alone anymore. I had purpose, something to keep me busy. Whenever I get a text from Jason complaining about Bruce, or Dick asking me to stop by, or simply Tim asking to get him coffee… I don’t mind, because they need me, and they trust me, and they love me, and I love them. They’re my brothers. Your my youngest brother, and I love you unconditionally, okay?” You promised him, and he nodded, before stepping back, turning on his heel, and going to leave the alley, before he paused, turning and looking over his shoulder at you.

“I won’t tell father about your girlfriend… Does anyone else know?”

“Only Jason. I don’t trust the others to not freak out about her, especially Bruce.” You told him. He nodded, and carried on his way. He started to text you from time to time like Jason did. Short and blunt. He never told you straight out he loved you- Dick said it all the time when saying goodbye, Jason said it on occasion, usually concealing it with sentences, Tim said it usually in the middle of the compliment, but never Damian. Instead he would simply text you ‘hope you’re safe’ at the end of the beginning of a conversation. When you realised that was him saying he loved you, you realised he said it the most out of the boys.

More time passed, things were going good in your family if you ignored Bruce, and things were going extremely well with you and Harley. You were both now looking for a new place to live away from Ivy- her idea, she was planning to move in with Selina. However, the move was postponed when signs of Joker being near your current apartment started to show up, and Harley became anxious, and with very good reason. You hurriedly moved Harley and Ivy into Selina’s apartment and you temporarily moved back into the manor. Just in time it seemed- your old apartment complex was the victim of arson, the substances used to light the fire making it burn green. It was obvious who set it.

Jason heard first, rushing to the manor, ignoring Bruce’s calls to come and find you, holding you tightly, relieved that you were safe, before he explained what had happened, and that it was an attack by Joker. He said that, in front of not only Bruce, but all your other brothers. They all, including Bruce, freaked out.

“Joker targetted you?!” Dick freaked out.

“No he-”

“You’re staying at a safehouse for now, alright? We’ll fit it up and make it homely.” Tim decided.

“No, that’s not needed-”

“Y/N, you’re in danger, you can’t leave our sight.” Bruce ordered.

“He wasn’t targeting me!” You snapped, making them all stop. “He wasn’t targeting me. He was targeting my roommate… my girlfriend.”

“Your girlfriend?” Bruce asked.

“Why?” Damian asked. You glanced at Jason anxiously, the only person who knew all the details. He instantly wrapped an arm around your shoulder, ready to put himself between you and everyone else if they tried anything, and get you out of there in a timely fashion if necessary.

“My girlfriend is Harley. Quinn. We’ve been dating for a few years.” You admitted. Everyone stood stiff for a moment.

“What?!” Bruce finally snapped, moving forward. Jason immediately held his arm out, pulling you behind him.

“You stay the fuck away from my sister, Bruce.” He glared.

“You knew?” Tim asked at Jason.

“I did too.” Damian spoke up, trying to show solidarity with you and Jason, jumping to be beside you as well. “I didn’t know it was Harley, but from what she’s told me, she treats her well and loves Y/N.” Damian defended.

“I’ve met her. Harley loves Y/N. She was there for Y/N when I died, unlike you. She looks after Y/N.” Jason defended. Bruce stared at you.

“Where’s Harley?”

“I’m not telling you. Her life's in danger, she’s in hiding… we’re going to meet up soon and… we’re leaving Gotham. Temporarily. Just until Joker forgets she exists, then we’re getting a new apartment, maybe somewhere closer to Jason.” You explained.

“You can’t leave Gotham with her!” Bruce snapped.

“Why not?” Tim asked. Bruce’s head snapped around to him. “If Joker gets an inkling that Harley has a girlfriend, especially if it’s Y/N Wayne, he’ll go after her. It’s better safe than sorry.”

“Anything we can do from here? We can get you two a safehouse in another city till things calm down.” Dick offered. You smiled at him and nodded, and he smiled sadly. “We should cause a scene to keep him occupied so he doesn’t have time to realise Harley’s gone off the grid. One of us should also escort you both just in case.

“I’ll do that.” Jason decided. “Atleast you know if worst comes to worse and Joker tries to stop you leaving, I’ll fucking kill him.”

“Do none of you care about what I think?” Bruce asked.

“No. We don’t. This has nothing to do with you. This is to do about the safety of Y/N and her girlfriend from her girlfriend’s abusive ex. This is about what is best for them, and what we can do to make things easier for them. You’ve never cared about her. You’ve never put her first and done what’s best for her. Leave us to deal with this, and stay out of it.” Jason snapped at him. Bruce looked around, seeing to see if anyone- even you- would tell Jason off. No one did. Without another word, Jason pushed you to go with Damian and Tim to go pack some things while he went to get a car from the garage for you and Harley and your things, and Dick got his phone out to start making calls for somewhere safe for you to stay. Bruce stared at Dick, the only one left in the room. He saw that Bruce was waiting for him to talk to him, say anything to him.

“Y/N has always been there for us, no matter what. This is the only time she’s ever said she’s needed our help. We’re taking it.” He told him simply, before putting his phone to his ear and leaving the room, leaving Bruce alone, unsure on what to do or what to say.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

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wntrs0ldier · 1 year

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An Offer · part 06

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 4,1k warnings: typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.)

<previous part | series masterlist

series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.

chapter sneak peek: You turned your head in that direction. Seeing him, you felt a knot in your stomach, and your heart in your mouth. A strong shudder ran through your body, sending that familiar electricity right to your fingertips. By avoiding him for so long, you had built a wall that was supposed to make you immune to the feelings he evoked in you. But all it took was one look to tear it down.

As Bucky was coming towards you, you considered running away, but your body – craving his attention, longing for his presence – stuck in place, refusing to obey you.

A single buzz of the phone distracted you from the document you were reading through. Thrown out of the work rhythm that had been driving you for the past few hours, you instinctively ran your eyes over the desk, pretty much buried in papers, meanwhile figuring out that the phone was hidden somewhere underneath. So you started collecting all the documents, putting them in neat piles to eventually find it.

It felt good to be working like that again. Finally, after a few weeks since your father's death, filled with overwhelming responsibilities and things a little too heavy for your shoulders, your mind was in the right place; stable enough to catch up on paperwork.

You grabbed your phone and tapped the screen to check the latest notification, expecting a message from Suzie reminding you to buy her promised snacks on the way home. But it wasn’t your sister. You froze when the sender of the text turned out to be Bucky.

You still have my sweatshirt. I want it back.

You hoped he had let go after weeks of being ignored. Right at the start – on the very evening John showed up at your house – you wrote Bucky a succinct message saying that you couldn't see each other anymore. This was to be the definitive end; you didn't reply to his texts, didn't answer his calls. You realized that otherwise you would be drawn to him again, therefore throwing away your only chance for a marriage.

The phone in your hands buzzed again.

I don’t want it back. I want to see you.

An unpleasant warmth went through your body. You put the phone back on the desk, then stood up; mostly to stretch your bones, stiff from sitting, partly to fight the urge to speak to him. With the phone still in your hands, you could have undone the hard work of recent weeks – weaning yourself from the presence of the one person who had always been on your side.

You walked up to the window where, just a while ago, you were thinking about your life, your past; about who Bucky actually was to you, and why your paths never crossed. But they finally did – at the moment when you most needed guidance, understanding, a friend. And now you missed him. You missed Bucky endlessly since the last time you saw each other. You missed him the way you missed the first rays of bright, warm sunshine after a harsh winter; the way you missed the cool, refreshing rain during a stuffy summer; the way you missed a favorite flavor that you never recreated again; the way you missed the childhood years of innocent carefreeness. Because he was just that to you – some lost, longed-for sensation that was beyond your reach.

And all this for what? A successful marriage to John? A peaceful, secure future?

In fact, everything seemed perfect. John was good to you – he didn't drop distasteful hints, didn't ogle you, didn't put any pressure. He regularly took you to one fancy restaurant after another, and kept trying to find out as much as he could about you. He even turned up at the exhibition in your gallery. From the outside it seemed like he was there to support you, to keep you company. However, the truth was that John was controlling you; just as Michael said. What's more, he lavished you with gifts, usually expensive jewellery that was rarely to your taste. You weren't ungrateful, but you got the impression that John was only giving you what he himself wanted to see on you, not what actually suited you.

But there was something that worried Michael in particular. John had expressed a willingness to make a deal, in addition it looked like he was courting you full steam ahead, but he hadn't asked you to marry him yet. So, at any time, he could have simply backed out, leaving you in the lurch – he had you in the palm of his hand and was taking advantage of this by testing your loyalty and, somehow, obedience. Knowing that any contact with Bucky would cost you dearly, you couldn't afford even a moment's weakness.

Hearing a quiet knock on the door of your office, you felt another wave of that unpleasant warmth. You looked back hesitantly and were instantly relieved seeing the familiar face of your friend, Connie.

“Are you okay?” She furrowed. “You look… bad.”

You smiled, as if that would dissuade your friend from worrying. “Just a little tired.” You stretched sleepily to emphasize your words.

“No wonder. You've been working a lot lately,” Connie pointed out, sitting down on a chair in front of her desk. “You're hard to get to.” She raised her eyebrows, tilting her head to the side as if she had just caught you at something. Connie was one of your closest friends, and although she wasn't directly connected to your world – unless it was through you – you mentioned your problem to her; one that had been dragging on since your father's funeral.

“And how's your new job?” To distract Connie, you slightly changed the subject. You walked over to the desk and took a seat too.

“It is not that bad. If I get promoted from making coffee and washing cups to actual finances. But it's only an internship, so I might as well keep making coffee until the end.” She rolled her eyes and your smile widened; perhaps Connie was complaining about her duties and you sympathized that she had to do something she didn't like, but it was nice to hear about such mundane problems. You would have liked to be making coffee for bankers and financiers instead of having to marry to save your family from ruin. “Actually…” she began innocently. “I just have one tiny favor to ask you. I swear I came mostly to see if you were okay, but-”

“I know, Connie,” you interrupted. “What’s the favor?”

“Go out with me this weekend. Have some fun, stop thinking about work and… you know, the other thing.”

Turning down such proposals was not in your habit. Moreover, suffocated by visits to expensive, uptight restaurants, which left you hungry and a little bored, you missed this kind of entertainment. Besides, lately you've only been hanging around older men, who always had a full range of golden advice and ideal offers for you. You craved loud music, dancing among strangers and, above all, alcohol – it didn't have to be expensive, the kind John would provide; you just wanted it to take the weight off your thoughts, at least for a while. You needed a break.

“Okay,” you said after a moment of reflection.

Connie's face lit up with a bright, excited grin. “Okay?” she made sure, and when you nodded in surrender, she reached over the desk, put her hands around your cheeks and placed a big kiss on your forehead, and you – put in a light, somewhat carefree mood by your friend – laughed. You both did.

The weekend arrived much slower as you waited for the fun you craved. You had completely absorbed the idea that you would be spending Saturday night at some club, and there was nothing to stop you doing so. Not even John. As you sat in Connie's flat, in your robe, sipping a margarita, waiting for the polish on your nails to dry, he called you with a proposition for another date.

“Johnny…” Despite the heavy sigh that left your lips, you tried to make your voice sound as sweet as possible; even if you wanted to set any boundaries, John had the upper hand, so you couldn't behave audaciously – you couldn't be cold and assertive, you had to wrap him around your finger. “I can't see you. I would love to, but I've been neglecting my girlfriends lately. I need to spend some time with them.”

“But in a club?” he reluctantly repeated the information you gave him at the very beginning. “Maybe I could go with you?”

You nearly choked on your drink. A red light flashed in your head; John Walker was about to enter a phase that would put an end to you going out on your own. And you couldn't let that happen. At least not until he had made his final decision in terms of marriage. You needed that wedding, and in order to achieve it you were prepared to do a lot, at the same time you couldn't let John trample you like that. He said himself that he had always wanted you – so he had to realize that he could easily lose you. You couldn't be the only one who was fearing about this 'relationship'.

“Johnny,” you echoed his name, but this time you almost said it between clenched teeth with a kind of determination and slight irritation. You plastered a smile on your face to sound at least a little softer. “You are really sweet. But I need time with my friends. It will be something like my bachelorette party.” The words you used were intentional; you wanted to give him the idea that he should finally make up his mind and officially ask you to marry him. It wasn't your dream, but you had to protect yourself; you had to stop letting him lead you around by the nose, taking advantage of your dates.

“You're right. But you have to promise me that we'll spend all Sunday together. Tomorrow you will be just for me and no one else.”

The dates with John were not a disaster largely because they usually lasted a few hours. Spending a whole day with him was different. And if you reacted this way to this prospect – with discouraged silence – what about spending the rest of your life with John? You've probably never seen it in this light before, and it suddenly made you sick.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you said hurriedly. “Yes, of course, we will spend the whole Sunday together.”

“Perfect. See you then?”

“See you then.”

You tossed your phone to the other end of the couch. Connie appeared in the living room, although technically she had been there the whole time due to the living room being connected to the kitchen. She looked at you with concern, put down the margarita pitcher she had brought, and sat beside you.

“He's not that bad,” you claimed.

“Yeah, sure.”

You squinted, staring blankly at a random point in front of you. “But…”

Under the influence of margarita, you wanted to make some philosophical speech about how your end was near; how it was creeping up on you, crawling under your skin. You were sure of the end of your freedom, as future husbands tend to joke about, but you hated these jokes. Eventually you said nothing, occupying your head with ways to help you unwind; to somehow honor the potentially last opportunity for you to go out like this; without your controlling soon-to-be husband.

Having shaken your head to get rid of some unnecessary thoughts, you glanced at Connie, smiling at her tenderly. “Would you be so kind and lend me the shortest dress you have?”

Although you weren't in the mood for men's company, the decision about the dress resulted in exactly what you thought it would. It was short enough that you didn't dare bend down, but its length and tightness actually played only a partial role in making you attract attention. You oozed a sort of mysterious, appealing aura of being open to innocent propositions you might have refused; eager for an adventure you might not have taken part in. Men followed you with their eyes, and it looked as if they were prepared to get burnt, to be rejected only if that meant they could get close to you, to exchange a few words, to have the opportunity to be noticed by you.

Perhaps it was the irritation, the cooling anger at John and the exhaustion of your living situation that made you attract people the way flame attracts moths? Perhaps your true nature – the one your mother tried to nip – has been bubbling to the surface through some small cracks, caused by your recent bending to the will imposed from everywhere? Or was it simply the result of a couple margaritas consumed before going out?

You didn't know, and you didn't particularly care.

From the moment you arrived at the club – the kind of club you had in mind; with colorful but not aggressive lights, affordable alcohol and good music; on this night, hits from the early 2000s prevailed – you and Connie basically didn't leave the dance floor. Not including short breaks for drinks at the bar or going to the toilet. For the first time in a long time, you felt your age – carefree, almost irresponsible; you were having fun.

Time seemed to flow a little differently, so you didn't know exactly how much of it had passed, but Connie and you were starting to get sore feet. You knew that choosing some flat shoes would be a wise move, but high heels made your legs look even better than usual. There was no room for reason that night.

Connie disappeared somewhere, having promised earlier to get you some seats. You didn't want to return to the dance floor alone, besides, you needed to catch your breath. You ordered something exceptionally non-alcoholic at the bar – orange juice with ice – and decided to wait for your friend there. Resting your elbows on the slightly sticky counter, thereby trying to transfer your body weight from your sore legs, you sipped your juice.

The bartender unexpectedly slipped you a pink drink in a wine glass. “From that guy.” She nodded to the other end of the counter.

You turned your head in that direction. Seeing him, you felt a knot in your stomach, and your heart in your mouth. A strong shudder ran through your body, sending that familiar electricity right to your fingertips. By avoiding him for so long, you had built a wall that was supposed to make you immune to the feelings he evoked in you. But all it took was one look to tear it down.

As Bucky was coming towards you, you considered running away, but your body – craving his attention, longing for his presence – stuck in place, refusing to obey you.

He stood next to you, his hand resting on the surface of the counter, his fingers almost reaching your elbow. You looked at his face; to your disadvantage, he was as beautiful as ever, his plump lips were wet, giving them the impression of being even more luscious; his eyes seemed fatigued as he watched you with calm and benevolence.

“Aren't you going to ask what I’m doing here?” He spoke, and from the way he articulated the words you were able to tell that he was a little drunk. “If I'm following you..?”

“No, I'm not going to ask that. I’m not going to ask about anything, actually, because I shouldn't be talking to you at all.”

Bucky smiled, but there was not a bit of warmth in that smile. “So you're marrying him…” He nodded slowly, running his tongue over his teeth. “Did he tell you to stay away from me or what?”

Closing your eyes, you let out a heavy sigh. “I want this marriage to work, Bucky.” You looked him straight in the eye. “And it won’t work with you there. I wish I could keep what we have, I wish I could keep you, I swear, but I can’t. I need you to understand that. Please.”

At first he stared at you without a word, anger crept onto his face. “So that’s it? I lose you, you get your perfect little husband?”

You pursed your lips; no matter what, you didn’t expect to hear something like this from Bucky, yet you deserved it; you should’ve had a normal conversation with him. And now you were too tired, too defeated already, to fight. “Yeah, that’s it,” you said briefly. “Friendship isn't meant for us. Thanks for the drink,” you added, trying to take the least emotional approach possible, but in reality you could feel your heart breaking.

Bucky looked like he was slowly being consumed by panic. But there was nothing you could do about it. You grabbed the glass filled with alcohol he'd bought for you and moved away from the bar. Anywhere, as long as it's far away from him.

By the kindness of one man (or, rather, innocent flirtation), Connie got the seats in the VIP box. The man shared it with a friend who introduced himself as Reggie, Ricky or Randy; you couldn't recall the correct version. You didn't focus on his name; nor did you pay particular attention to what he was saying. All you knew was that he called you pretty, and was buying you drinks, which you accepted cautiously.

Things stopped going as you had hoped. This was supposed to be your night without men, yet you were just letting one hit on you. You were supposed to have fun, yet you felt heartbroken by the situation with Bucky. Since when did everything start revolving around him? Since when did your mood depend on what was going on between the two of you? Did your first meeting unlock some mechanism that you were both doomed to, or did you just get so attached to him over the course of a couple weeks?

When Reggie/Ricky/Randy's hand resting on your thigh began to go higher and higher, your thoughts crashed against all these questions like rough waves. It didn't bother you, what he was doing. And since it didn't bother you, you decided not to spoil his fun. Your thoughts wandered so far and wide that you barely noticed the moment he kissed you. His hot, alcohol-breathing lips pressed onto yours, and you were basically indifferent to that too. Maybe not so indifferent, because you found something pleasurable in it; your relationship with John lacked the flame, the immediate desire. And Reggie/Ricky/Randy had that boyish charm mixed with the possessiveness of a grown man; a combination that appealed to you very much. Besides, your future wasn't in his hands, and not being at Reggie/Ricky/Randy's mercy turned you on even more.

And suddenly he was gone.

Reggie/Ricky/Randy ended up on the floor. You lifted up your eyes from the drunken man, unable to get up from the ground, and saw Bucky. Again. With clenched jaw and heavy breathing, he watched Reggie/Ricky/Randy laying between you. However, he was harmless enough to quickly lose Bucky's interest, so he grabbed your wrist and forced you to stand up, then follow him.

“Bucky!” you groaned. You were afraid that Bucky was capable of dragging you behind him if the situation called for it. “You're walking too fast! I can’t walk that fast in these heels!”

He stopped sharply and turned towards you; you could see how angry he was. You didn’t know when he positioned his hands at the right places on your body, so he could throw you over his shoulder. An amused giggle escaped your mouth, but you quickly remembered that you should be mad at him.

“Put me down!” You hit him somewhere under the shoulder blade and immediately felt the hardness of his muscles – you might as well have hit a stone. You massaged your sore hand right away, meanwhile coming to terms with the fact that he couldn't hear you over the thumping music anyway.

A sudden coolness and distant sounds indicated that you had left the club. Bucky put you down but still stayed close in case you would lose your balance.

“What the hell are you doing?” You abruptly pushed back his arm, which was meant to secure you.

“What I am doing?” he bit back, the anger not leaving his face. He seemed more sober than before, too. “What the hell are you doing to yourself, Y/N? Kissing some strange guy in front of fucking everyone? You think John is gonna love that, but us hanging out is too much for him? Do you want this marriage or not?”

“What's the difference what I want!” A dreadful sorrow and helplessness echoed in your voice that made Bucky perplexed. His lips parted slightly, then snapped shut, his eyes filled with concern and sympathy. Despite the fact that you had been yelling at each other outside the club for the past few minutes, these words rang out most emphatically, bringing you both back to reality. “Who cares, Buck?” you said more quietly. “I'm supposed to marry a guy I don't really know, and I try to like him, but the more time I spend with him, the harder it gets. I'm not even talking about love, not hoping for it to happen, because I know John Walker is not it. But it doesn't matter, I still have to have his children, otherwise everything I'm doing now goes out the window. And I'm doing it so that my sister doesn't have to. So that she and my mother don't have to worry about the future and money. I would do anything for them, but my mother won't even speak to me; she is mad at me for it.” You quickly wiped a hot tear from your cheek, completely missing the moment you started crying. “I know there are worse things than marrying a rich guy.” You rolled your eyes at the depiction of your problem. “But it still hurts. Maybe one day I'll get used to it, but right now I'm fucking scared. I’m all alone, I have no one to get my back, no one to hold my hand. I’m fucking scared-”

“Y/N…”

“No.” You didn't let him get a word in fear that – whatever he had to say – you would break even more. “Help me get through this less painfully and just… disappear. Leave me alone.”

Connie appeared beside you, but you only noticed it when her warm hand touched your bare shoulder. You didn't hear what she was telling you; there was just ringing in your ears, and the sound of gushing blood in your head. Bucky didn't take his eyes off you; you'd never seen him so worried, so vulnerable and unsettled before.

Connie stroked your hair, then put her arm around you, and you both began to walk ahead. The tenderness of her gestures revived you somewhat; you looked away from Bucky and fixed your eyes on the pavement. Eventually she pulled you into probably the only open diner in the area. There was still ringing in your ears, but you realized that you were to get something warm to drink and wait for a cab.

One of your first conscious thoughts shortly after waking up was that physically you felt far too good for a hangover. You were genuinely disappointed by this, as this kind of suffering would have been the perfect excuse not to spend the day with John. The perfect excuse for your nasty mood.

You sat up on the bed, your eyes automatically fell on the black sweatshirt slung over the chair by a vanity table. Returning it would have been the perfect opportunity to see him, but you had finished that stage in your life, and you were going to stick to it. You decided not to bother with how you planned to give Bucky back his property. Instead, you grabbed the sweatshirt off the chair and put it on.

When you went down to the kitchen, you met Michael there. He was sipping coffee – as you gathered from the smell lingering in the room – and focused on you as soon as you entered his sight. As you prepared your tea, you felt his attentive gaze on you.

“Where were you last night?”

You almost dropped the cup from your hands. That uncomfortable, paralyzing electricity ran through your body. The only reason Michael could have asked that particular question was because he knew – someone had told him about what you were doing; that you were making out with a man whose name you couldn't even remember. And if Michael knew, John was also going to get that information sooner or later.

“At a nightclub. With Connie. Do you remember Connie..?” You glanced over your shoulder and he only nodded. “Why do you ask?” you added casually, although in reality you were sure you were about to have a heart attack.

“I thought you saw Bucky Barnes. That you convinced him to change his mind.”

Your forehead furrowed, your eyes widened. Trying to ignore the fact your heart skipped a beat, you turned to Michael. “What..?”

“He has made an offer.”

a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰

taglist: @goldensunflowe-r @nefri-black @vickie5446 @learisa @sjsmith56 @aya-fay @hhiggs @wishingwell-2 @buckysgirl01 @emily-roberts @prettylittlepluviophile @leaaa008 @itvy5601 @melsunshine

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mob bucky #mob!bucky x y/n #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky x y/n #mafia!bucky x reader #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mafia!bucky x y/n #bucky fic #bucky fanfic

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sanguinesky-if · 24 days

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Ok...but MC office siren attire im talking cinched suit cute short pencil skirts kitten pumps, glasses the whole shebang! id imagine their sister dressing them up for the day. How would the ROs react? ;3 or to the MC wearin anything sexy in general?

Hi, I apologize for the late response and to everyone who is waiting for a reply to their messages. I will do my best to respond to them eventually.

How would the ROs react? ;3 or to the MC wearin anything sexy in general?

I hope you don't mind if I answer in a general sense, as I want my response to be suitable for all MCs.

At this point in the story, all the ROs usually meet the MC in their office. So if they come in one morning to the MC's office and see them in an overly sexual or revealing outfit, I think it would go something like this…

Kyle / Keira

The moment K sees the MC, their embarrassment will be evident by the redness of their neck and ears. At the same time, they will be very displeased with how impractically the MC is dressed for work (especially if they are wearing heels). They will definitely make remarks, not hiding their irritation (which is partly caused by their embarrassment), and ask the MC to change into something more suitable for work. But the sight of the MC in their memory will keep them restless for the rest of the day (and maybe a few more), replaying in their mind over and over again.

Lex / Lexie

L will try very hard not to show what they really feel upon seeing the MC in such an outfit, worriedly asking if the MC is sure they're comfortable in that clothing for work. This stems from L's desire for the MC to feel safe around them, showing the MC that they see them as more than just an object of sexualization. However, another part of L will want to get closer, maybe adjust the collar of their shirt just as an excuse to touch the MC. What happens next depends on the MC, and if the MC shows interest, I'm pretty sure it could lead to a heated moment between them.

Morgan

Morgan will freeze (congratulations to the MC, they've just broken Morgan). The MC will have to ask if everything is okay, and Morgan (with a noticeable reluctance) will look away, nodding. A few silent seconds later, Morgan will offer the MC their lab coat. If the MC asks why, Morgan will bluntly say that such an appearance will attract too much attention. This would be a good opportunity for the MC to flirt, saying something like, "But yours is the only attention I need," (bold MC) or "Does that mean it attracts yours too?" (shy MC).

Roderick / Rebecca

R will slowly look the MC up and down but won't say a word, even if the MC will ask them about it. However, if the MC is very attentive, they might catch a fleeting glimpse of something raw and steely in R's eyes. Out of the MC's sight, R will give a death glare to anyone who dares to stare at the MC for even a few microseconds longer than necessary (and their definition of 'necessary' is very short).

Theo / Tess

For T, the MC is a 10 out of 10 no matter what they're wearing. To start, T will definitely compliment the MC, appreciating their effort to dress up. However, what matters to T is not the MC's attire but their intention. If T catches even the slightest hint that the MC desires a more overt display of appreciation, they will happily oblige, and I'm not exaggerating when I say it could happen right in the MC's office. By the way, I pointed out in the main story itself that there are no cameras in the detective's office 😏

Isaac / Iris

I will try very hard to look away and act normally, but their eyes will keep returning to the MC, again and again. After several failed attempts to not stare at the MC, they force themselves to turn away completely (if that's possible in a given situation), closing their eyes a couple of times, trying to calm themselves. However, instead of relief, they see the image of the MC in their mind, making it even worse (honestly, their mind is their greatest enemy). If they notice someone giving the MC more than a friendly glance, it will upset and anger them. They'll hold back these feelings as best they can, knowing they have no right to feel that way about the MC. They'll want to know why the MC is dressed like that but can only manage to say, "You look… different today," before immediately closing the subject, not giving the MC a chance to respond (even though they started it, poor idiot). It will be very difficult for them to focus on anything other than the MC on this day.

Sebastian / Selena

S will smirk, slowly look the MC up and down, and say something like, "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I can only show how much after we finish." However, if the MC makes a couple of deliberate moves—say, accidentally drops something and bends over to pick it up, or leans over the table—I think… Yes. As mentioned, it’s good there are no cameras in the office.

Thank you for the question!

#asks #if #interactive fiction #if game #if wip #sanguine sky #sanguine sky if #ss ros

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burningvelvet · 9 months

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More thoughts about The Tenant of Wildfell Hall after finishing it…

1 good movie adaptation WHEN?

2 the themes of universalism and the idea that everyone can change if they want it bad enough and nothing is permanent and we have the ability to make choices and self-destruction has social repercussions bc it affects the ppl around you… yeah, my heart is full!

3 helen successfully microdosing her own child with poison to give him a pavlovian response to alcohol so he wouldn’t end up as an alcoholic like his father and grandfather because she intuitively knew he had a genetic predisposition to addiction despite having no modern knowledge of science or psychology. excellent.

4 the shit helen goes through in this novel is unreal. our girl is basically trapped in a frat-house — complete with the booze, drugs, laughter, fraternizing, sportsmanship, anti-intellectualism, infidelity, and rape culture.

5 as a sad aficionado of the romantic era & byronic studies i can 100% without a doubt say that not only is arthur based on some popular victorian conceptions of lord and lady byron and their marriage, but the brontës must have been familiar with biographical writing on byron’s life! i’ve found several academic texts to support this and it’s 100% true.

6 also, as a person who grew up with relatives who suffered from severe substance abuse and mental illness, i’m pretty confident in saying that the brontë sisters must have had some inside knowledge to spark their sustained interest in writing about these subjects. there are specific details and feelings pertaining to these topics which are documented with so much acuity it must have been personal to them. it seems a lot of academics theorize this as well — however, i still don’t know enough about the brontë family biography to form my own opinions on this topic yet!

7 helen is such a progressive mother (considering her circumstances and level of education, and the non-harmful drugging aside which is questionable today but within the narrative understandable) and her theories on education and parenthood are so advanced.

8 i think arthur’s friends (especially mr. hargrave and annabella) are as bad as he is, considering the fact that they enable him and they could easily use their influence to try and sway him considering but they choose not to — only partly because he’s the “leader of the pack,” but partly because they also have zero respect for helen and enjoy openly bullying and abusing her in her own household

9 big shoutout to the servants in this novel who are the real heroes. all throughout the novel (especially starting from Gilbert’s POV considering he and his family are a little poorer off than those of the Huntingdon circle) we see the lower-classes and smaller owners gradually triumphing against the upper-classes, gentry, and larger land owners. i love the line about rachel having to sell helen’s fine gowns for cheaper ones, and how helen notices that rachel still looks decent while dressed like a more common woman.

10 the very ending with everyone’s resolutions was a bit choppy and rushed but i don’t mind because everything went how i wanted it to go lol. but the ending for arthur/helen — the fact that he never repented, but helen still believes in universal salvation nonetheless, and still took care of him even though she didn’t have to, after everyone else abandoned him — the person he treated the worst still cared for him when no one else did — she fulfilled all her marital vows and he fulfilled none of his — his fear of death — her letter of december 5th, her holding his hand until the very end — his last words, “pray for me!” don’t leave me!” — all the unspoken words on her part, her feelings of helplessness, her telling him that she cannot save him, his crying and cursing the world — her fainting from exhaustion — him continuing to act like a brat on his death bed — her taking control, her cleverness with the contract — her lack of closure — aahhhh! just so heart wrenching and frustrating and angsty yet also cathartic and realistic.

#the tenant of wildfell hall #english literature #literature #book thoughts #book opinions #anne bronte

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thistleation · 11 months

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Hi lovely blog and art, just chiming in to say I also think Beatrice is ruthless and that she is portrayed as ruthless in warrior nun, she shot a tranquilizer dart in Ava's neck. Like I guess she expected the other to talk to her and convince her of going with them, but ofc ofc she's the one that not only thought about the scenario in which Ava resisted and tried to escape, she arrived there with a solution, mind you, a swift solution that removed agency from Ava. Also she she asks Vincent is removing the halo would mean Ava would die, she's talking about it like she's discussing the weather. Seeing as she was a nun, I was actually expecting her to be like 'but father Vincent we can't even consider that, because the value of human life bla bla, and this is a innocent human life that got caught in the middle of it all', instead cold as ice sister Beatrice's response to the possibility of killing Ava to retrieve the halo was: 'but the politics though' it actually made me laugh. I mean she was raised by diplomatics/politicians ofc she has concepts like 'optics, church PR' in mind. That actually made me realize that even before being a nun, she's above all, a devoted warrior. Above her supposed catholic ethics and compassion is her absolute, unwavering commitment to The Mission. Beatrice is ruthless and I love that about her. Because after Ava, that ruthlessness, that devotion, all of her skills have shifted and she's loyal to Ava with that same ruthlessness

Yes exactly!

I think all of them can be expected to have a certain level of cavalier attitude towards death as any of them who've been on more than a handful of missions can be expected to have killed in the line of duty.

Beatrice though has her upbringing that plays a role as well.

She's been taught from an early age that her feelings are wrong, and her coping strategies for that trauma are repressing her feelings and cold, emotionless logic.

I don't think S1 Beatrice means to be cold and callous, I think she's quite empathetic underneath, even then. It's just that she's so used to trusting the moral aspect of her actions to the church.

Again, her feelings, her judgement can't be trusted — she's been told as much since childhood — so instead she relinquishes those to a higher authority. And what higher authority is there than the church, the literal embodiment of God's will on earth?

And so Beatrice instead focuses on the tactics, the strategy, the logical breakdown of any situation as a problem to be solved, trusting that the problem that was put in front of her was put there by the church and God and is therefore morally right to solve.

Beatrice only focuses on the line.

And eventually, when the situation gets messier, when her love for Ava grows stronger and stronger, and she finds her personal priorities have shifted because she's finally, finally found something for herself to truly live for, that line is still there, and Beatrice can see it clearly.

I'm fond of saying that one of the sexiest things about S2 Beatrice is that she's prepared to turn her back on the mission and let the world burn if it means saving Ava.

There's this post I saw a good while back that said there's an appeal to being loved by a villain, because a villain can put you first, can choose you even if it means thousands of others die, where a hero can only ever put you second, after the greater good.

Beatrice will put Ava first. Before anything else.

I think she realizes that towards the end of S2. I think it scares her, and I think that's partly what led to the "would you come with me" scene.

But in the end when it comes down to it, she still makes the decision. Fuck the mission and fuck the world if that's what it takes, she puts Ava first.

And I love that for her.

#warrior nun #sister beatrice #avatrice #thank you for the compliment as well!#art has been going better since I came out so here's to hoping you'll see a bunch more from me!#I've got another pirate one I'm working on right now and I *promise* I've not forgotten about the big LB splash page for Casper

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queenaryastark · 1 year

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Arya Stark is her Father's Daughter

Arya doesn't just share the Stark look with Ned. They also share values, insecurities, and abilities. When Ned was teaching Robb and Jon leadership skills, Arya was picking those up as well and we see her implement them throughout her chapters. That's not to say she and her mother don't have similarities. They do. Being similar to her father is not the same as having nothing in common with her mother. She can have similarities with both. But I'll start with one she only shares with Ned.

Insecurities

Arya and her father are both incredibly insecure as a second daughter/son who were overshadowed by their older siblings of the same gender. Interestingly, this is a parallel with Arya that GRRM also gives to Alysanne Targaryen, who he changed in F&B, making her more like Arya. But back to the Starks. Arya was bullied by her older sister and taught that she was inferior to her by the adults around them. Ned's insecurities come from being in the younger brother position for both Brandon and Robert, yet unexpectedly rising to Brandon’s place after his death. Even a decade and a half later, he still feels like he's not enough for the role he has to fill. Similarly, when Ned tells Arya that she will marry a king, she says that's Sansa. We're not in her head in that moment and there's definitely a lot going on on emotional and sociological levels (as well as logically given the current political circumstances), but part of that response is due to her insecurities. Despite factually holding the status of "lady", Arya insists that her mother and sister are ladies, while she is not. This is partly due to her insecurities in "failing" at being who her mother is telling her a lady must be.

Ned's:

"Brandon would know what to do. He always did. It was all meant for Brandon. You, Winterfell, everything. He was born to be a King’s Hand and a father to queens. I never asked for this cup to pass to me.” -- Catelyn II, AGOT

has the same feel as:

“You,” Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, “will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon.”

Arya screwed up her face. “No,” she said, “that’s Sansa.” -- Eddard V, AGOT

Both of them either have been or are being set up by the narrative to fill roles they were told were meant for another. Regardless of their shared insecurities over their older siblings, Ned and Arya actually fill the societal aspects of their roles well, even to the point where the North is specifically rising for Arya and willing to fight in winter for Ned's little girl.

Speaking of which...

The Common Touch

An important aspect of ruling is making people want to follow you. That involves gaining their love and respect. Those who are best at this are said to have "the common touch". This is something Ned teaches Arya and that she implements naturally through her friendly and extroverted nature:

Back at Winterfell, they had eaten in the Great Hall almost half the time. Her father used to say that a lord needed to eat with his men, if he hoped to keep them. “Know the men who follow you,” she heard him tell Robb once, “and let them know you. Don’t ask your men to die for a stranger.” At Winterfell, he always had an extra seat set at his own table, and every day a different man would be asked to join him. One night it would be Vayon Poole, and the talk would be coppers and bread stores and servants. The next time it would be Mikken, and her father would listen to him go on about armor and swords and how hot a forge should be and the best way to temper steel. Another day it might be Hullen with his endless horse talk, or Septon Chayle from the library, or Jory, or Ser Rodrik, or even Old Nan with her stories.

Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father’s table and listen to them talk. She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms. She used to throw snowballs at them and help them steal pies from the kitchen. Their wives gave her scones and she invented names for their babies and played monsters-and-maidens and hide-the-treasure and come-into-my-castle with their children. Fat Tom used to call her “Arya Underfoot,” because he said that was where she always was. – Arya II, AGOT

Catelyn has this ability to engage with the commons to a degree as well. She knows the names of everyone at Winterfell and at Riverrun, even correcting a person who was currently living at Riverrun. She gives the oarsmen who bring her to King's Landing coin with her own hand to make sure their employer doesn't cheat them. She's always polite to servants. As a result, people regard her with respect.

It's worth noting that Arya shares this ability with Margaery and Alysanne, two belived queen consorts.

Leaders Who Do Their Job

Like Ned (and Cat), Arya believes in capital punishment. From her father, she gained the belief that the person who passes the sentence must perform the execution as well:

The Starks were at war with the Lannisters and she was a Stark, so she should kill as many Lannisters as she could, that was what you did in wars. But she didn’t think she should trust Jaqen. I should kill them myself. Whenever her father had condemned a man to death, he did the deed himself with Ice, his greatsword. “If you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him to look him in the face and hear his last words,” she’d heard him tell Robb and Jon once. -- Arya VII, ACOK

So, the part of Arya’s story that others vilify her for and think makes her too far gone? You know, executing criminals? That comes from Ned and is actually an aspect of her character that proves she is going to be in a position of leadership in the end. She is already administering justice and dealing with complex choices on what justice actually is. This aspect of taking on hard choices and actions isn't exclusive to execution. Arya also takes up additional risks and duties while leading her pack through a war zone. She uses her privileged education to read maps, gather information including reading letters, and doing extra tasks like doubling back to obscure the tracks they're leaving. And yes, she also executes criminals.

Like Ned, Arya is being set up as a leader who actually does something as opposed to the leaders who distance themselves from the less pleasant parts of their job.

So, yes, Arya is like Ned in many ways that are fundamental to her character. This isn't controversial. It's just canon.

#arya stark #eddard stark #catelyn stark #house stark #asoiaf

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autistic-stephanie-brown · 3 months

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Chapter 15 [AO3 & FFN]; Start Here [AO3 & FFN]

A effort to prove Harry wrong about Draco Malfoy’s involvement with Lord Voldemort only partly accelerates Voldemort’s plans to dominate Wizarding Britain. As Hermione finds herself placed higher than the other Death Eaters, she plays along with Voldemort’s schemes. Hoping to play along long enough before she can enact anything, even if it puts friendships she holds dear in jeopardy. One of the only things preventing her from losing herself completely is a unlikely alliance with a increasingly disillusioned Death Eater.

Excerpt:

Draco could detect the glares from the passing students as they went about doing whatever task they were assigned to do. He shouldn’t have been surprised how unhappy they were to see him. He supposed one of them saw him exiting the school with such ease during the takeover and relayed their theories on his involvement. Maybe someone saw him leave the Headmaster’s Office.

Let them guess all they want, he thinks with a scoff. He’d be a liar if he claimed that he was on their side, with the Dark Mark on his left forearm the most incriminating evidence of all.

He’d managed to follow a handful of the students to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“Baubles,” one of them said, and the portrait swung open. The group scampered into the portrait hole as if the common room could provide their escape. That he won’t come after them there. Draco had managed to grab hold of the golden frame of the portrait before it could close completely. Therefore being able to squeeze inside.

The response was almost immediate. Weasley and his sister had leaped from their places and held out their wands like most of the occupants.

“Mucueo Chiroptera!” Weaslette shouted.

Draco, however, was prepared this time. Casting a shield charm to deflect the Bat Bogey Hex.

“I don’t mean you any harm, alright,” Draco maintained. Swallowing hard.

“Really? Give us one reason we shouldn’t hex the daylights out of you,” Weaslette demanded, who had gone quite purple with rage.

#hp #harry potter fanfiction #hermione granger #draco malfoy #dramione #dramione fanfiction #my fics: the silver lioness #cw hp #cw harry potter

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 1 year

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The thing about Vitani from Lion King 2 is

she’s

Detached.

Like, in the spider's web of love and vows of vengeance that drive both Lion King movies along, pushing characters to do all sorts of things, Vitani... sits somewhere outside of it.

If she has personal motivation for any of the things she does, it must be VERY personal, because it sure as hell isn't tied to anyone else.

As in, not even her own family changes what she does.

She’s protective and supportive of Kovu as their future king, sure…

...up until he turns traitor on the Outlanders, at which point Vitani has zero hesitation reporting this to Zira, confirming it, being part of a frame-up for him, knocking him out of a fight, and watching her mother scar and drive her little brother away.

When Kovu is furthering the goals of the Outlanders, Vitani helps him. When he fails in his mission to win back the Pridelands, she instantly turns against him.

Until Kiara comes back with Kovu in tow, with a new plan that would let the Outlanders rejoin the pride at Pride Rock. Then Vianti goes to stand by Kovu again- supporting him for supporting Kiara and Kiara’s offer of peace.

But Kovu on his own? Standing between the two prides, crouching down, ready to fight to protect Kiara and Simba?

That gets exactly no reaction from his big sister.

None.

And suddenly all the support and protectiveness she showed for him earlier seems very pragmatic, very empty.

She was a fan of Chosen One Kovu, not the lion that decided he didn't want to do murder.

Then Nuka- Vitani’s attitude towards Nuka is more easily understood as affectionate, for all her eye-rolling, since Nuka, unlike Kovu, isn’t expected to contribute much to the Outlander’s goals. He isn’t the chosen one.

So when Nuka leaves Kovu alone and Vitani warns him their mother will be mad, the focus is on what will happen to Nuka rather than what kind of danger Kovu might get into.

Similarly, despite Nuka being a typical teasing older brother and messing with Vitani several times as cubs, she still takes charge of him while they light the fire trap for Kiara and physically drags him away at the end of it. When Nuka dies later on, Vitani joins her mother in mourning him.

But the fact that Nuka died while trying to kill Simba, and that Simba’s weight on the logs caused them to fall, crushing her older brother, isn’t brought up during the fight between the Outlanders and the Pridelanders.

Her only confrontation is with Nala, centering on taunting Nala about Kiara’s absence form the battle.

At no point does Nuka’s death or any idea of blame or vengeance give Vitani pause when she decides to give up on murdering Simba and help end the war.

Even though she clearly cared for him and took his death badly, she still goes to stand with the lions that her own mother blames for Nuka’s death. Her feelings for him don't stop her. They don't even get mentioned.

Maybe she’s just more willing to accept Nuka’s death as an accident. Maybe she feels it’s sad but fair, considering they were trying to kill Simba at the time. Maybe she holds her mother partly responsible for what happened but doesn’t feel that’s worth jeopardizing all their years of planning and the future of the Outlander lions.

Nuka's death had no tangible impact on her.

It enraged Zira, pushing her to attack the pride lands right then, while Simba was weak, so the it would be that last time she was hurt by him.

The guilt of being even vaguely involved in his brother's death, and then having Zira blame him for it, is so terrible that Kovu pulls a Simba and runs from his family and home.

And Vitani?

Despite Zira throwing out a paw as if to stop Vitani chasing after Kovu, Vitani made no move to do so. Her reaction to all this is the same as all the other Outlander lionesses, aside from the fact that she gets to look sadly down at her brother's body and softy say his name.

But her following actions never reflect or reference his death. Not once.

Wait what about when she says "No, mother" and "Enough"? Couldn't she have been thinking of Nuka and his death then???

Sure, I suppose.

Except that the lion she mentions in that moment isn't Nuka. It's Kiara.

"No, mother... Kiara's right. Enough."

That doesn't sound like someone thinking about her dead brother. It's vague and broad, could mean enough fighting in general or enough with the personal vendettas, and it only relies on Kiara as support for it's argument of stopping the battle.

So while you can certainly choose to fit Nuka between the words of her little declaration, he isn't, text-wise, there in the script. He's not, at any time, cited as a reason for what Vitani is doing.

Then there's fact is she IS the first lion to completely understand and accept Kiara’s idea.

Even Kovu was more interested in being with Kiara than stopping the war.

He was happy with the thought of them running away and starting their own pride. Kiara's amused explanation that they have to go back gets a literal "you're kidding" from him.

And even though he does follow her back, he’s own words at the battle show he’s there just to protect Kiara and Simba, not to build a peace or help the Outlanders. He says nothing to his family or former pride other than warn them they'll have to go though him first.

(i don't blame him. Kiara and Simba are the first lions in his life who were kind to him without wanting something from him in return)

But Vitani, who has no personal connection to Kiara and plenty of reasons not to listen to her, Vitani is the one to step between the two prides and tell her mother “Enough”.

Why?

This is after an ENTIRE MOVIE spent showing how loyal and dependable Vitani is to her mother and her cause!

Ah, but that's the thing isn't it.

It wasn't blind loyalty to her mother. It wasn't even loyalty to her mother's motivations.

It was for the cause.

While Nuka spends the song “My Lullaby” trying to ingratiate himself to Zira and slipping in little insults to Kovu, Vitani earnestly cheers for Kovu, affirms the plan, and protects Kovu from Nuka’s pestering.

Nuka, desperate for Zira's attention, mimes Simba dying in that song.

Vitani only unwillingly plays the part of Kiara squirming in someone's claws. Her only parts are to boost Kovu, their best chance, and the only time she sings back to her mother is in answer to "The thrill of Kovu's mighty roar!"

Nuka shouts back "The joy of vengeance!" mirroring his mother.

Vitani's answer is a perfectly enthusiastic and bland "Testify!", basically just saying 'heck yeah!' right before her little chant of "Kovu, what a guy!"

Thing is, later on, as noted above, she pretty clearly isn't that interested or loyal to Kovu himself.

So it seems it was what he represented in that song that she cheered for- life outside of the outlands. The comfort and safety of the pride lands.

She was never loyal to any of her family. Not even Zira.

And Zira had no idea.

When Vitani’s the one sent to make the fire trap for Kiara- with Nuka tagging along- and the one sent to spy on Pride Rock, the one who brings back news of his betrayal- even though Zira roars in fury at hearing it and needs to have Vitani confirm her report, this is played as shock and anger aimed at Kovu, not doubt in Vitani’s words.

Zira, a clever and calculating lioness, trusted Vitani completely.

And like Vitani, when this lion she trusted turned against her, she didn’t hesitate to cut all ties with them.

She’s as quick to threaten Vitani with death as Vitani was to report Kovu’s betrayal to Zira herself. In fact, Zira only shows real distress when the OTHER lionesses follow Vitani's lead and also abandon her. She's upset when she loses her soldiers. But Vitani’s betrayal? Gets no reaction at all. Except a bloodthirsty grin.

And that's why.

That's how Vitani could be the first to abandon the old plan, the old hatred, and listen to Kiara.

Vitani and Zira are very similar in how they view and interact with the world. Both set a goal and pursue it unwaveringly, letting nothing and no one shake them from their chosen path.

Between them, the only real difference is what goal they were after.

Revenge, in Zira’s case.

A better life, in Vitani’s.

So when getting the Outlanders out of the dry, empty, land of starvation meant joining up with the very lions she’d been told sent them there in the first place, Vitani had no issue doing so. When given a chance to escape the outlands without more loss of life, she took it, her own personal hypothetical pride or losses be damned.

And when getting revenge on Simba meant disowning her remaining son and preparing to murder her daughter, Zira showed herself more than happy to accept that.

Revenge on Simba. Revenge for Scar.

These are all motivations connected to her feelings towards other characters.

So I would say that Vitani is even MORE detached than Zira.

Zira at least had her loss and her thirst for revenge, a whole song of how she wants to hurt the lion she holds responsible for her own pain, and destroy everything and everyone he loves.

Whereas Vitani…

Vitani is shown with no such personal links driving her actions.

You might think, well she must at least care about the other Outlander lionesses very much, she must be doing all this for them-

But there’s never one moment to base that on.

For their own part the Outlanders might care about Vitani. They abandon Zira after the threat against Vitani, after all.

True, it might just have been disgust that Zira would be ready to kill her own daughter. Or maybe it had something to do with how their expressions of anger changed to shock and confusion when Kiara spoke of Pridelanders and Outlanders being one.

Equally possible is the first idea- that Vitani’s real loyalty has been to them this whole time, perhaps while Zira was off giving Kovu special training, while Kovu was with her getting trained, and Nuka was busy chasing desperately after his mother’s tail. That might have left Vitani as the one taking up the lead of the Outlander lionesses on a daily basis. She might have the one that the lionesses knew best and relied on most, more so even than Zira herself, in the end.

That, however, is nothing more than an idea. And it still wouldn’t show any hint of Vitani having personal feelings for the Outlanders herself.

She is, of all the characters in the movie, the only one who’s actions are not linked to any personal relationship at all.

Vitani is practical. She is reasonable.

She has no problem with ambush or murder or lies or deceit, chucking and grinning evilly right along with Zira and Nuka as they chase down an isolated and outnumbered Simba.

And yet there is nothing personal in her delight for violence. There is no motivation of spite, jealousy, revenge, or even just rage.

And she wants peace.

What a strange character they ended up making, in Lion King 2.

I’m sure she was just put in to add more female characters and moments when two lionesses were talking to each other, since there would be almost no such scenes at all if it wasn’t for her.

Honestly, everything she does, all her actions are ones either Nuka, Kovu, or Zira could have filled in for instead- Nuka lighting the fire trap, Nuka telling on Kovu’s betrayal, Zira fighting with Nala, Kovu telling his mother “enough” and the Outlander’s being disgusted because scarring and yelling at your son is one this but threatening to kill him…

...all of these substitutions would have worked plot-wise and made sense for the characters.

But Vitani gets them instead.

She's stretched out across plot points and character moments like a piece of yarn, not enough in herself to have much of a pattern, but still making an interesting if very minimal shape.

And she must have been a rushed or half hearted addition, considering her adult design has some of the worst consistency in the movie and no one remembered or felt bothered to show even one frame of her in the final epilogue scenes of the movie. I’ve stared at the group shot of the lionesses all sitting together, not one of them looks like her. Her head tuft, likely given specifically to make her noticeable, is nowhere in sight.

So it really does seem Vitani was created and shoved into the movie because it would be a bit strange to have a girl main character and yet little to no other girls with speaking roles outside of the villain.

Intentional or not, the result of Vitani existing is she’s a very unusual character.

Her lack of depth circles around somehow to become full of implications, most ironic of all being that SHE is the most ruthless and uncaring lion in the movies.

Even Scar had his murderous jealousy over his brother and his twisted glee at telling his nephew the truth of how Mufasa died, just to hurt him more.

But Vitani? She doesn’t even have a negative personal bond tying her to anyone.

Well. Unless you want to call her and Nala's odd little spat a 'personal bond'. At the very least it proves Nala knows Vitani's name...

(so have they had an off-screen feud this whole time or did Nala know her from before the Outlander's were exiled and somehow developed a grudge against this one tiny cub in particular?)

(yes I know the fan theories about her and cub Vitani. Ignoring them though, it's just all very weird)

(tama and tojo were vitani's parents and nala took her in fight me)

... but the animation in that scene wasn't even updated to match Vitani's final name, so, clearly, it wasn't a very important moment to the makers of the movie.

It's safer to assume they just needed to show Nala fight someone, and Vitani existed, and had already been characterized as a bit snide and sneering. Bam, perfect fit. Nala gets to fight a named character and Vitani talks to another girl again.

Anyway.

Outside of vast and world-building speculation, Vitani just... doesn't have meaningful emotions towards anyone.

Even her desire for peace can be read as completely devoid of emotion. The outlands suck. There’s hardly anything to eat or drink. Moving back to the pride lands by whatever means possible has clear and immediate benefits to Vitani, like not starving constantly.

And a rouge lion striking out on their own is vulnerable. Kovu is proof of how easily they can be kicked out.

Meanwhile, a lion with a pride of other lions at their back has power, and the more lions in that pride, the more power they all have, no matter where they go.

Taking the peaceful way out could simply be the easiest way to safeguard Vitani’s own future.

OR,

you can read her as being the only one out of her family to really CARE about the welfare of the Outlanders themselves, instead of ignoring them (Nuka), abandoning them (Kovu), or only seeing them as tool for revenge (Zira).

So does your version of Vitani heed Kiara's wisdom because she cares about others a lot?

Or is she able to listen because she cares so little she has no bitterness at all?

Or is your idea of her somewhere in the middle??

It’s fun to think about.

She's a good example of why, sometimes, a character who didn’t Need to be in a story at all can still be a wonderful addition to it.

and if they’re also are part of baby gay me’s slow walk towards realizing Girls are Hot, well, that’s fine too

#Lion King 2 #Vitani #Kovu #Kiara #Zira #Nuka #speculation #character thoughts #vitani i don't understand you and that's cool #just like your little mane tuft~

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ashleyh713fanfics · 2 months

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Dazai X Odasaku's Sister CH14

Chapter 13: "He Doesn't Want To Be Saved”

Summary: As Odasaku's sister tries to find a way to make up for Dazai's missed birthday, she learns that it might not be so simple. Because why would a boy so intent on dying ever want to celebrate living?

Warnings: pm!sixteen year old dazai, suicide mentions, guns, manipulation on both sides, odasaku death mentions, dazai being a simp, protective ango

(This is chapter fourteen of my fanfic "Timeless" which is now on A03. I'll link the master list below so you can get the full story. Asagao's ability is to stop time for up to six seconds.)

Master List Here

A03 Here

Work Count: 6k

Ango placed a hand up to his face before rubbing his temple in order to quell the dull pain that resided there. This was the fourth week in a row that he had spent in his office alone and the man was starting to get used to the dim and windowless walls around him.

The tasks in front of him were extensive, they always were for his line of work and the process had become a force of habit lately for the man. It was easier that way, working himself into the ground in order to keep his mind off his deceased best friend and the mistakes he regretted every step of the way.

Because in some sort of sick way the agent still believed that he was partly responsible for Odasaku’s death. Maybe not directly but he was a spy in the port mafia, he still betrayed Dazai and Oda by telling the government all their secrets, the ones that he promised to keep. He lied, he betrayed them in the worst possible way and Ango knew he didn’t deserve forgiveness.

And then there was Asagao.

It had been almost an entire year since he last saw her in person but the government check ups he ordered seemed to show that she was doing fine adjusting to Yokohama.

And he promised himself that he would be there for her, that he would take on that brotherly/ paternal role that Oda couldn’t do anymore but who was he kidding? He wasn’t equipt for that kind of thing. He never liked kids, and now he was responsible for the most important thing in the universe? How could he possibly be worthy of such a thing?

In a twisted way, he couldn't help but look at her as an atonement, a penance for his past crimes. Because maybe if he kept her safe then the universe would forgive him as well, maybe he could finally have a good night's rest without the consent guilt on his back.

But he knew it was wrong to look at her that way, to only see her as a bargaining tool of his own psyche. How despicable of him. She had nothing to do with all of this. Asa was just a lost sixteen year old child that needed guidance.

And though he was sure he wasn’t equipped for that, Ango knew he had to try.

He couldn’t fail anyone else, especially Odasaku’s little sister

Sighing to himself, Ango then reached his office door before opening the surface and pausing at the familiar sight of crimson across his vision. “Ah, there you are! I’ve been waiting for ages. This is bad Ango, this is really really really bad! You gotta help me!”

Almost immediately, the man felt his mind turn blank with confusion, watching the frazzled and fidgety Asagao race up to him in clear distress.

And though he should’ve focused on many things, the only thing that he could comprehend was her cry for help.

Oh no, what could’ve happened? She looked so scared and helpless like this. Did someone try to hurt her? Did something happen that the government reports didn’t pick up on?!

Ango then reached forward in order to place a firm hand on her shoulders and stop her jumpy body language.

No, it didn’t matter what happened, he would fix it. He had to. Anything to make sure she was safe. “Asa..h-hey..it’s okay..what happened..?”

The girl only shook her head though, causing Ango to grip onto her even tighter, a sense of dread in his voice. “It’s okay, you can tell me. Does it have something to do with Dazai?”

Asagao then nodded her head sadly, causing the agent’s blood to boil. He knew this would happen, he knew that allowing her to hang around a destructive force like Dazai was a horrible idea. He could only imagine how he hurt her.

That selfish little boy, how dare he hurt the last remaining piece of Oda in this world. He didn’t care if the two used to be friends, Ango wouldn’t forgive him for ignoring his warnings.

Just then, he saw her lips start to quiver in reply, Asagao’s hand moving up in order to weakly grasp onto his buttoned down work shirt as Ango leaned in closer with anxiety at the sound of her voice.”Ango..I..I..”

Feeling his heart twist and turn at the sound of her broken little tone, the agent frowned, ready to tear down the entire city in response.

Oh my god, how bad could it be? What possible could’ve had her acting like this?

Ango’s mind then began to run rampant, already coming up with a list of people to call and documents to get in order to take Asagao away from Yokohama. Sure, it would be tricky but he could do it, he could get her away from..

Yet that’s when Asagao finished her sentence, a whine etched in her throat. “I missed Osamu’s birthday..!”

…..what?

Almost immediately, the agent felt his mind stop, his own eyes blinking in disbelief as he tried to process the ridiculous statement. That’s what this was about? She wasn’t hurt, she wasn’t in danger? All of that, for a missed birthday? Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

Forcing his hands to fall from her shoulders, Ango’s lingering headache seemed to return ten fold, his fingers reaching up to the sight with a groan. He really was worried for nothing.

Although now that his panic had passed, more questions seemed to appear in his mind. “Hold on, how did you even get in here?”

Asagao only turned her head in reply, like the answer was obvious. “Through the door, duh. You're so silly Ango, how else would I do it?”

Ango deadpanned though, knowing it wasn’t that simple. “You know that’s not what I mean. This is a government owned building. There are extensive levels of security. You can’t just..”

Realization seemed to flash on her face then, Asagao clapping her hands up before wiggling a finger in air quotes at the man’s direction. “Oh yeah! That reminds me, you should really look into that. It’s not as “secure” as you think it is.”

At that, Ango couldn’t help but widen his eyes in horror.

Wait, did that mean what he thought it meant? Did this girl just break into a high level government building and illegally gain access to his office just to tell him a stupid statement like that? Forgetting a birthday, that’s what constituted committing a literal crime?!

She was insane, literally insane. What if she got caught, what if things didn’t go as planned? Then she would’ve been in prison for something so incredibly stupid.

Feeling a sharp shiver run up his spine, Ango then looked at the goofy unbothered smile on her lips only to thank the gods that Asagao wasn’t evil or else he knew he would’ve been screwed.

To have her as an enemy, he imagined it was probably just as bad as having Dazai as an enemy.

Asagao seemed to notice his disapproving stare though, her hands going up in defense before frowning. “Hey don’t look at me like that. I tried doing things legally but the people out front wouldn't let me in and this is really important, Ango! I couldn't wait!”

The man only let his shoulders fall in defeat, already utterly exhausted from this conversion. He knew that she was spazzy and strange but this thought process was way more messed up then Odasaku ever was. She was like the man turned up to a million.

If only her brother was here, because right now the agent felt like he was clearly in over his head. “I don’t even know where to begin with that statement..”

Walking over to his desk, Ango stumped into the chair only for Asagao to turn around to place her hands on the surface in reply. “Come on Angoooo, we are getting off topic. I’m really at a loss here, that’s why I came to you in the first place. You’re the only grown up I know and I really need someone to talk to about this. Pleaseee?”

Then to add dramatic effect, the girl practically draped herself over his desk in order to bat her eyes as innocently and sweetly as possible, making Ango’s heart hesitate with guilt.

Damn it, why did she have to say that? Why did she need to bring up that he was the only reliable adult she had in her life? How could he possibly turn her away now? Even though her methods were foolish, scolding her wouldn’t change that she had searched him out.

Sighing to himself, Ango then closed his eyes before speaking apprehensively. “Alright, fine. What do you mean you missed Dazai’s birthday?”

Then almost immediately, Asagao’s expression brightened up in order for her to snap back up with a clap of excitement, almost like she had planned her pathetic little act purposely to make him cave.

But that was crazy, right?

Not giving him time to think though, Asa spoke. “Right, so we were talking and the conversation came up but then when I asked him about his birthday Osu said that it was six months ago. He told me not to worry about it but how can I? I’m his girlfriend and I couldn’t even have the decency to wish him a happy birthday. Ah, I’m the worst, aren’t I?”

Yet Ango couldn’t help but catch something else in her explanation, red flags immediately going off as his head snapped up. “Hold on, didn’t you say that your relationship is in name only? You just called yourself his girlfriend.”

The way she said it, it seemed so natural and that was something that worried Ango immediately. He was only okay with Dazai and Asa’s relationship if it was surface level. But this didn’t sound surface level anymore. And that scared him.

He then watched the girl pause before shaking her head to will away the idea. “Girlfriend, fake girlfriend whatever..you’re missing the point, Ango. This isn’t about that. Anyways, like I was saying I just..”

Ango only cut her off though only, his tone sharp. “You’re not getting attached are you?”

Practically jumping in her skin, he then watched Asa hesitate once more before stuttering out a reply. “W-What, no. Of course not. Osamu and I aren’t like that. Our “relationship” is by convenience, that’s all. I told you that. We use each other to get closer to Oda.”

Sure, that’s what she told him but relationships change. Surface level things become deeper without warning and that was something that Ango needed to shut down the moment he sensed it.

And the way she was looking at Ango right now was the man's worst fear. Her voice cracked on the first part of her reply, which meant that he had struck something unknown.

Not letting her wiggle out of this one, the man refused to break eye contact with her. “If that is the case, then why are you so worried about such a trivial thing?”

Not understanding, Asa scoffed. “What are you talking about?”

Yet Ango simply gave her the hard truth, whether she wanted it or not. “Dazai’s birthday has nothing to do with Odasaku. You know that, and yet you break into my office because of it. Why?”

It was a flaw in her story, one that the man couldn’t help but notice. Because if Dazai and her were really using each other for convenience and for Oda’s memory then why had she broken into a government facility and risked imprisonment for something that had had nothing to do with their original promise?

Watching her stumble on her words, Asa filtered with her hands “Well…because..”

Ango spoke over again though, his accusation throwing her completely off guard. “Asagao, please tell me you haven’t fallen for him.”

That was his worst fear, for Dazai to latch his greedy little claws into her so much so that she could never escape. He could so easily wrap her around his finger and make her do unspeakable things with the guise of love and Asa would know none the wiser.

He could wreck her, destroy her until she was a shell of herself and this poor girl would thank him for it.

No, that couldn’t happen. If that was the case then he would have to go back to original plan and drag Odasaku’s sister out of Yokohama as quickly as possible.

But it seemed like the idea hadn’t even crossed her mind, Asagao’s face immediately turning a bright red in order to flap her arms around in distress. “W-What?! No, no no it’s not like that. I haven’t..I didn’t even..that’s not...you're wrong. I just wanted to do something nice for him. You know, because of all the things he did for me.”

And for Asagao, the agent’s acquisition wasn't something she could comprehend. What was he saying, that she was in love with Osamu? What kind of crazy idea was that? Of course it wasn’t like that.

Love? How could she possibly be worthy of such a thing with him? He didn’t even know her. Sure, maybe they weren’t strangers anymore but Osamu didn’t have the connection that Asagao had. He didn’t have years worth of letters to go off of.

He knew her from the last year they had been together but even Asa knew not to get carried away by their relationship. Osamu would never have the bond that she had for him, and that was okay. She didn’t expect him to.

Ango was getting carried away, there was no way things could be like that. Osamu would never fall in love with a freak like her, she knew that. That’s why the idea had never crossed her mind.

The way they were now, it was enough for her.

She couldn’t expect more.

Sucking in a heavy breath, Asa then closed her eyes in order to calm her erratic heartbeat before answering his question. “You asked me why I’m so worried about such a silly little thing? Well because it's important. That’s why. Everyone deserves to celebrate their birthday, even Osamu. Thinking that he let the day pass all alone, without anyone knowing, it doesn’t feel right..”

Asagao then watched a vivid memory cross her closed eyes, causing her expression to crunch up with sadness. “Especially since I know what that’s like.”

She could still remember the feeling, every holiday and day lingering past her each year as she sat alone in her room and read her brother’s letters for a sense of warmth. No, she didn’t want Osu to have to feel that, so lonely and insignificant. It was painful.

And it seemed Ango even knew what she had meant by that statement, his stern gaze softly with painful guilt in order for his shoulders to slump with understanding.

Perhaps he read this all wrong, she was just trying to do a good thing for his old friend.

So much so, the agent then sighed to himself before standing from his desk in order to place a warm hand to Asa’s head with a reassuring smile “You don’t have to look so guilty about it. Dazai told you not to worry about it, right?”

He hated how personally she took such a small mistake, that she blamed herself for her inability to predict every little thing. It was the biggest flaw she had, burdening herself with everyone else’s problems and calling them her own.

Although her topic of conversation still struck something interesting as well, Ango’s mind wandering back to their nights at Bar Lupin and finding a gap. “But now that I think about it, Dazai never brought up his birthday to Odaskau or me, not once.”

At that, Asa couldn’t help but look up. Now we were getting somewhere. “Why do you think he never brought it up?”

Ango only shook his head though, not having the answers she was looking for. Odasaku was always better at reading that boy than him. “I don’t know, I imagine it just never interested him..”

The man then frowned before whispering mostly to himself. “I mean, for a kid so intent on dying, why would he want to celebrate another year of living?”

Then all at once, Asagao felt her eyes widen in heartbreaking realization. She had never thought about that before but Ango was right. Osamu wanted to die, he wanted to leave this world by his own volition. That was his end goal.

And the idea of a birthday was about the exact opposite. It was soaked in life and celebration, everything that Dazai Osamu absolutely despised.

After his many suicide attempts, after the world rejected to take him, she was sure that his birthday was like the equivalent of a slap in the face.

Because every year that passed was a failure to him, it marked another eternity stuck on this earth, almost like the day of his birth was continuing to mock him for being unable to finish the job.

No wonder why he looked withdrawn when she mentioned it. Asa probably brought back that rejection tenfold without meaning to. That’s why he brushed it off and told her to drop it.

Damn it, now she felt even worse than before.

There had to be something she could do to make him feel better.

Lowering her eyes in silent thought, Ango then broke through the silence, his words laced with warning. “I know that face. Stop it. I know you mean well but getting wrapped up in Dazai’s suicidal tendencies will do you no good. It will end in disaster and you're just going to get hurt like that.”

Asa only shook her head though, hating that he was right. Osamu’s world was so dark and sad, laced with loneliness and misery she could never understand. His desire to die surely stemmed from a mix of horrible experiences and feelings that he kept locked tight to himself.

Feeling her shoulders slump in defeat, the girl was at a loss. “I just want to help him, is that so bad?”

Ango only softened though, his hand landing on her shoulder with a sad smile. “No, it’s not. I want to also, but it’s not that simple. You have to understand that Dazai’s been like that for a long time, even longer than Odasaku or I have known him. Any attempt to fix what’s broken is long gone.”

Asagao slumped her head down at that, her blurry uncertain eyes boring to the floor.

She would never be able to understand it, not fully. What made him like this?

Because while she saw the good and the possibilities of beauty Asa knew that Osamu was the complete opposite. His life had only provided him with awful memories, memories that have always been incomprehensible to her.

But even still, she couldn’t help but catch glimpses of his past every once and a while. The way he would become strangely quiet and stare out Oda’s window silently while she slept, the way his eyes would narrow in deep thought when they watched a movie or the way he would flitch and tense when she tried to touch anywhere but his bandages.

Something in his life had broken him, far beyond repair.

And Asagao wasn’t stupid, as knew that crying to him or begging the boy not to kill himself was pointless. He was too far gone for that. The idea of suicide had been ingrained into every one of his cells, suffocating him and making him see no other option.

After years of suffering, how could she possibly change any of that?

Still not wanting to believe it, Asa grasped for anything she could find, anything that would heal his broken mind. “But..I..”

Yet that’s when Ango cut her off, his voice serious. “Asagao.”

Looking up from her spot on the floor, the agent finished sadly. “He doesn’t want to be saved.”

And that broke the final straw of hope that she had, the girl crumbling down internally as her entire face fell.

Ango was right. Dazai didn’t want to be saved. This whole birthday thing was a part of a larger much deeper scale, one that she couldn’t fix no matter how hard she tried.

But could it really be? Could she really not do anything? Even after he gave her so much, even after Osamu’s presence calmed her heart back home.

Right now was she truly utterly useless to him?

Searching for an answer, Asa whispered. “If my brother were still here, what would he have done?”

Ango knew the answer immediately, although it wasn’t the one she wanted. “He would’ve dropped it. Odasaku knew better than to dive too deep into Dazai’s problems and so should you.”

Drop it? Really? Oda saw this sad broken little boy and he just ignored his problems? He never brought it up or tried to fix it, not once? He pretended like they weren’t there and went on drinking with Dazai like nothing was wrong? How could he stand that?

Shaking her head, something about that sentence didn’t seem right. “But that’s what everyone else in his life has done. That’s what he’s grown up with, that’s what he probably expects..”

Just then, Asagao paused, the words getting lost in her throat before her eyes widened with realization. “I get it.”

Why hadn’t she seen it before? Why didn’t she realize that? How could she have been so stupid? Oh, she needed to get to work quickly. There wasn’t much time.

Then Ango watched the red haired kid immediately turn towards the door only for him to chase after her. What did that mean? She wasn’t about to do something dangerous, was she?

Because that was something he wasn’t going to allow. “Wait, where are you going now?”

Turning around immediately, Asagao answered back, her voice rushed and manic, like she was trying to process her thoughts by the second. “You’re right, Ango. Empty words mean nothing to him, and maybe backing off would be easier but that’s not going to fix anything. Telling him not to die, that’s not what he’s looking for.”

Ango still looked completely lost though, causing Asagao to groan in frustration before connecting the dots for him. “Don’t you see? Osamu doesn’t want to be saved, he wants to be noticed.”

Lifting her hands out in explanation, Oda’s sister continued. “How many years has Osu been alone, how many times has he let his birthday pass because he simply believes that no one will care and no one will hear him? He’s given up because he realized that it’s easier for everyone else to ignore him than to acknowledge his suffering..”

Of course, of course that’s what it was. He didn’t want someone to pull him from the ledge, he wanted someone to notice that he went up to the roof in the first place. How many years had he been ignored, looked over, and passed off because of his inability to be understood?

So much so that at some point down the line, Osamu stopped calling out, he stopped waiting for someone to see him and just buried himself in the darkness, not seeing a point in trying anymore.

That’s why he didn’t bring up his birthday, because he thought that no one would care, that no one would ever acknowledge the fact that he was alive and struggling with the wish not to be.

Oh, how lonely and isolating that must have been for him, to have given up hope.

The ideology that her brother and Ango shared, it was only part of the problem. Ignoring his pain wasn’t going to make it go away.

And perhaps acknowledgment it wouldn’t fix it either, but at least it would show Dazai that she was looking at him, that she saw him.

He wasn’t alone, she would walk right beside him for as long as she was able.

Because of that, for the first time in her life, Asagao couldn’t agree with her brother’s choice. ”But I will always acknowledge it, I won’t ignore it like my big brother. I refuse to let him suffer alone.”

Balling her hands into fists with determination, the girl then turned around in order to leave only to hear Ango’s voice once more. “Why? Why are you pushing yourself so hard for him? Dazai isn’t the kind of person that would ask you to do this.”

Asagao only nodded her head though fully aware of that. “I know.”

She knew Osamu wouldn’t have expected such a thing for her, but that’s why she had to do it more than anything else. Because he was worth it, and although he may have not believed it, he deserved only the absolute best in life.

So what if he never outwardly cried out for help? That just made his desperate silence even more prominent.

Ango then watched Oda’s sister pause by the door, her hand on the side of the frame as her next words caused a ring of newfound clarity to appear in his eyes.

“But those are the kinds of people that need it the most.”

--------

Turning the lock to Odasaku’s apartment, Dazai happily skipped inside in order to throw his usual black jacket on the floor and kick off his shoes with a holler. “Asa-chan! Your favorite person is here!”

Almost as if on cue, the girl herself came racing to the entryway, her face the epitome of sunlight as she waved towards him. “Oh, Osu! You’re just in time. I’m almost done with dinner.”

Dazai only hummed at that, already making his way towards the table in the corner as his stomach grumbled with reply.

He never liked eating before but ever since he visited Asa’s place more frequently the boy found himself looking forward to whatever would be waiting for him.

Settling down at his usual spot, Dazai placed his hands onto the table before hearing the soft humming from Asa as she moved through the kitchen causing the boy to close his eyes in contentment.

He hated how relaxed he was in this mutate and normal atmosphere. It contrasted the cold port mafia basement he had that spend the first half of his day in.

In fact, it was like night and day, the boy finally able to un-tense his shoulders and breathe for the first time in hours.

Although that’s when he heard Asa’s voice from the kitchen, just as sweet as always. “Hey, Osamu. Can you do me a favor and close your eyes for a sec? I wanna show you something.”

Lifting his head up with amusement, the boy called back, fully intent on teasing her. “So bold, Asa-chan. You plan on attacking me while I’m defenseless? Although now that I think about it, dying by your beautiful fingers wouldn’t be a bad way to go so I'll allow it.. “

Then as promised, Dazai closed his eyes, leaning back on his arms as wistfully thought about that possibility. He wasn’t kidding when he said he wouldn’t have minded her killing him tonight.

Usually the boy wouldn’t have let his guard down like this with anyone but on the off chance that Asa did betray him the executive knew he’d be okay with it. At least he would die in this nice warm place.

Perhaps she would hum for him while she did it also? That sounded like the prefect way to die.

He then vaguely heard Asagao’s footsteps sound around him before hearing the light behind him click off before she spoke again, anxiety in her tone. “Alright, open them!”

Dazai then did as she asked, opening his eyes before the soft glow of a tiny flame welcomed him, only to look down to find a small circular strawberry cream filled cake below it. But what was this?

Looking up with confusion, the boy then opened his lips only for Asagao to speak above him, her voice rising to a sing-songy tone. “Happy Late Birthday, Osamu!”

And almost instantly the boy was stunned, Dazai not knowing what to say only for Asa to continue in his place. “I know, I know what you’re going to say. But I already missed way too many of your birthdays’ I couldn’t miss another one.”

He then watched her hesitate before reaching underneath her in order to pull out a stack of colorful folded construction paper in order to place it on the table. “Besides, who knows how many of them you’ll be around for before you go. That’s why we should treat every single one as special.”

Then the girl simply slid the stack over to Dazai with a shaky nervous smile as the boy picked up the first one on the pile with confusion. Just what was her plan, and why did she look so anxious for him to look at these?

Although Dazai got his answer the moment he opened the paper, his eyes greeted by a homemade drawing with big huge bubble letters and a short message underneath.

----

Happy 1st Birthday, Osamu

I'm glad you were born.

----

Feeling his fingers turn numb, the boy then quickly closed the sight before immediately reaching for another folded paper, this time in the middle of the stack. No, it couldn’t be. These weren’t, they couldn’t be..

----

Happy 13th Birthday Osamu

This is the year I first heard about you from Oda’s letters and I wouldn’t have in any other way. You gave me so much hope and wonderful feelings. You may have seen this day as a failure but I’m glad you made it another year so I could know who you are.

-----

They were. They were birthday cards. Counting the folded pieces of paper immediately, the boy gasped. Sixteen, there were sixteen cards, one to represent every single year she wasn’t there. She made these for him.

Not knowing how to process the gesture, Dazai stared dumbfounded at the brightly colored pieces of paper. Asa went through so much effort for him, why? He told her to drop it. He wasn’t expecting her to care this much.

No one ever cared this much.

Not knowing if he wanted to continue and yet feeling the desperation to even so, the boy then reached for the final one in the stack with a shaky breath of uncertainty.

-----

Happy 16th Birthday Osamu

I know you want me to forget that I missed your birthday but I simply can’t do that, Osu. Because this is the first year I have the honor of saying to you in person. All the other times I silently spoke it through the letters but this time I’m going to get it right. So, here it goes.

I know how you probably look at this day. You see the failure, the mockery of another year alive but the time we spent together this past year has been a gift to me.

The things that you despise like your very existence or even waking up in the morning to see another day, I can't help but be grateful for them because it means I get the privilege of sharing my life with you for just a little bit longer.

And just as I cherish them, I hope you do too. So much so then when you do finally leave this world you may realize that not everything in life was bad. That someone noticed you when you thought no one ever would.

You are the most important thing to me, Osamu.

Thank you for being alive another year.

----

Once he was done reading, Dazai remained silent, his eyes glued to the page as a heavy wave of emotion coursed through him. It made his throat close up and his chest ache with unspeakable pain by the second.

No one had ever thanked him for being alive before.

These letters, she wasn’t trying to get him to live, she wasn’t shaming his desire to die. No, she had acknowledged his wish and yet thanked him for it.

God, he felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he was dying from his own faltering body. What was wrong with him? Why was his hands shaking on these cards, why was his eyes stinging with pain and his throat closing up against his will?

Asagao on the other hand watched his reactions with anxiety, her fingers flittering under the table before standing up in order to get the rest of dinner.

Perhaps her cards didn’t do much but it was worth a shot, at least he knew she was thinking about him now.

Yet that’s when she felt two arms reach around her waist, pulling her backwards into Dazai’s chest as he buried his messy brown hair into her shoulder in order to hide his expression.

His grip was firm and tight, unable to let her move or turn around, almost like it was on purpose so she couldn’t see his weak and fathering display from just behind her.

Asa didn’t mind though, allowing her body to still as she felt him squeeze her midsection in a silent thank you for not pushing it.

How could she break his rules when he was holding her with such warmth and desperation? She couldn’t, not when he was showing her such a fragile side to himself.

And this was the first time without the blindfold that she had been allowed to witness the crumbling inner boy that was Dazai Osamu.

Of course she couldn’t see him given their position but she could feel his hands and the trembling frantic hold he had as he tried to tether her to the world.

Asagao didn’t argue with that though, happy to be his anchor of hope that life could be a tiny bit better than what it was. He could cling to her as long as he needed to and as tightly as he desired because she wasn’t going anywhere. Not ever.

So much so, the girl then lifted her hand up before lightly touching the hands that were holding her, her fingers tracing over the bare skin as Osamu twitched at the contact before allowing her to rest her palm on top of his lovingly and in absolute silence.

They stood like that for what seemed like forever, listening to each other's shaky breath before Dazai finally muttered under her shoulder. “You think of something too.”

Not understanding, Asa’s hand fell from his before shifting her head in confusion. What was he saying? What was she supposed to think about?

Yet that’s when Osamu spoke again, his head lifting from the safety of her shoulder. “I missed all your birthdays also. So think of something you want to make up for them.”

Feeling her eyes to flash with realization, Asa immediately felt her lips curve into a warm smile. He was trying to meet her halfway, wasn’t he? How sweet. The scary demon prodigy wanted to get her a birthday gift.

Although, just the thought was enough for her, not wanting to step on any toes. “Oh, thank you but I couldn't possibly want anything. Just being with you is enough.”

Dazai only frowned though, immediately twisting his hands around in order to flip the girl so that she was facing him. Why couldn’t she make this easy? He was trying to do something nice for the first time in his life and she wasn’t giving him any ideas.

He couldn’t just live with her choice. Giving her nothing would’ve been like a slap in the face considering the care and time she put into him.

There had to be something she had wanted, something that he could provide.

Yet that’s when his mind flashed back to the couple days ago only for his face to light up with twisted realization. There was one thing he knew she was interested in, something she kept asking him about…

Putting his hands on her shoulders, Dazai then smiled in sick joy before speaking. “Aw come on, Asa-chan. I think we both know that’s not true, there is something you want, something you’ve been bugging me about.”

The then boy paused speaking the words he knew Asagao wouldn’t be able to resist.

“How would you like to play with my dog again?”

15 notes · View notes

goodqueenaly · 2 years

Note

I think you’ve said before that A Feast of Crows and A Dance with Dragons were partly about the competing legacies of Tywin and Ned could you elaborate?

Oh yes. (More under the cut)

The opening of AFFC is not subtle about the story's judgment on Tywin's legacy - it stinks. This is the reason Tywin's corpse rots so awfully, even though nothing in universe would explain that level of decay; the author is practically hitting readers over the head with the symbolism here. Tywin's modus operandi was terror, total destruction, and an absolute lack of moral scruple in the achievement of his aims. This was true of Tywin even before we see him in the main story, from his response to the Reyne-Tarbeck Rebellion to his horrifying sack of King's Landing and the murders of Rhaegar's wife and children. Too, from the very beginning of the war in the main novels - when Tywin unleashed his favorite hellhound Gregor Clegane at the Mummer's Ford, Sherrer, and Wendish Town and empowered his lieutenants to commit any and all war crimes to bring the Riverlands to its knees - Tywin sought to win through the overwhelming application of terror and violence. Fittingly, his ultimate response, the Red Wedding, openly rejected one of the oldest and most sacred Westerosi traditions so as to ensure the complete elimination of his most prominent enemy. This is Tywin's legacy - crushing his enemies so unmercifully, so ruthlessly in order to instill a permanent fear of anyone doing so again.

So how's that legacy going post mortem, Tywin? Let's see how Doran Martell feels about it:

"You mistake patience for forbearance. I have worked at the downfall of Tywin Lannister since the day they told me of Elia and her children. It was my hope to strip him of all that he held most dear before I killed him, but it would seem his dwarf son has robbed me of that pleasure. I take some small solace in knowing that he died a cruel death at the hands of the monster that he himself begot.["]

Whoops. It would be a real shame if Doran ever had an alternate royal candidate (or two) to support over the Lannisters, wouldn't it? Well, how do the people of the Riverlands feel in a post-Red Wedding world?

“Would that it were only them,” said Lady Mariya. “Some of the river lords are hand in glove with Lord Beric’s men as well.”

“The smallfolk too,” sniffed her daughter. “Ser Harwyn says they hide them and feed them, and when he asks where they’ve gone, they lie. They lie to their own lords!”

…

“It might have been outlaws,” Ser Daven said, when Jaime told the tale, “or not. There are still bands of northmen about. And these Lords of the Trident may have bent their knees, but methinks their hearts are still … [sic] wolfish.”

...

Jaime noted the banners of Lychester and Vance, of Roote and Goodbrook, the acorns of House Smallford [sic] and Lord Piper's dancing maiden, but the banners he did not see gave him pause. The silver eagle of Mallister was nowhere in evidence; nor the red horse of Bracken, the willow of the Rygers, the twining snakes of Paege. Though all had renewed their fealty to the Iron Throne, none had come to join the siege. The Brackens were fighting the Blackwoods, Jaime knew, which accounted for their absence, but as for the rest ... [sic]

Our new friends are no friends at all. Their loyalty goes no deeper than their skins.

Whoops. It would be a real shame if an extrajudicial group in the area ever started seeking revenge for the Red Wedding by attacking and killing the people Tywin empowered, wouldn't it? Oh, and all those people assaulted and harried by Tywin's terror agents during the war?

A one-legged man stepped forward, leaning on a wooden crutch. "Your Grace, these are the bones of holy men and women, murdered for their faith. Septons, septas, brothers brown and dun and green, sisters white and blue and grey. Some were hanged, some disemboweled. Septs have been despoiled, maidens and mothers raped by godless men and demon worshipers. Even silent sisters have been molested. The Mother Above cries out in her anguish. We have brought their bones here from all over the realm, to bear witness to the agony of the Holy Faith."

...

"Some of my sparrows speak of bands of lions who despoiled them ... [sic] and of the Hound, who was your own sworn man. At Saltpans he slew an aged septon and despoiled a girl of twelve, an innocent child promised to the Faith. He wore his armor as he raped her and her tender flesh was torn and crushed by his iron mail. When he was done he gave her to his men, who cut off her nose and nipples."

Whoops. It would be a real shame if they ended up in a position to upset or even overthrow Tywin's royal dynasty, wouldn't it? Well, at least Tywin's ally in the North, Roose Bolton, has his back when it comes to upholding his legacy, right?

"Truth be told," she said, "Lord Bolton aspires to more than mere lordship. Why not King of the North? Tywin Lannister is dead, the Kingslayer is maimed, the Imp is fled. The Lannisters are a spent force, and you were kind enough to rid him of the Starks. Old Walder Frey will not object to his fat little Walda becoming a queen. White Harbor might prove troublesome should Lord Wyman survive this coming battle … [sic] but I am quite sure that he will not. No more than Stannis. Roose will remove both of them, as he removed the Young Wolf.["]

Whoops - looks like Roose learned Tywin's own favorite lesson of double dealing. And wait, it gets worse - even Roose's own allies in the North, people who hold grudges against the Starks and/or benefit from the Boltons being in power, resent what Tywin saw as his ultimate triumph over Robb Stark:

“Night work is not knight’s work,” Lady Dustin said. “And Lord Wyman is not the only man who lost kin at your Red Wedding, Frey. Do you imagine Whoresbane loves you any better? If you did not hold the Greatjon, he would pull out your entrails and make you eat them, as Lady Hornwood ate her fingers. Flints, Cerwyns, Tallharts, Slates … [sic] they all had men with the Young Wolf.”

“House Ryswell too,” said Roger Ryswell.

“Even Dustins out of Barrowton.” Lady Dustin parted her lips in a thin, feral smile. “The north remembers, Frey.”

Tywin's rotten corpse is barely cold, and his legacy is already falling apart. Everywhere you look, people don't just resent his terror tactics - they are actively undermining his work, looking to destabilize or even outright overthrow the nominally Baratheon but de facto Lannister royal dynasty Tywin so badly wanted to create. It's not going to be long before we see, to borrow Nymeria Sand's phrase, "the utter ruin of Tywin Lannister and all his works", as poor young Tommen's government collapses and the brotherhood without banners gets whatever vengeance it is looking for against the Frey regime in the Riverlands.

Meanwhile, what is happening in the North? Barbrey Dustin, who strongly hates both Ned and Catelyn (and, relatedly, supports the Bolton regime partly out of that hatred), sums up the situation nicely:

"Dressing her [i.e. Jeyne Poole, purporting to be Arya Stark] in grey and white serves no good if the girl is left to sob. The Freys may not care, but the northmen … [sic] they fear the Dreadfort, but they love the Starks."

...

["]Old Whoresbane is only here because the Freys hold the Greatjon captive. And do you imagine the Hornwood men have forgotten the Bastard's last marriage, and how his lady wife was left to starve, chewing her own fingers? What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned's precious little girl."

And these aren't empty words, either. The sentiment is echoed in White Harbor:

"I know about the promise," insisted the girl. "Maester Theomore, tell them! A thousand years before the Conquest, a promise was made, and oaths were sworn in the Wolf's Den before the old gods and the new. When we were sore beset and friendless, hounded from our homes and in peril of our lives, the wolves took us in and nourished us and protected us against our enemies. The city is built upon the land they gave us. In return we swore that we should always be their men. Stark men!"

...

Lord Wyman smiled. "Did you see how brave she was? Even when I threatened to have her tongue out, she reminded me of the debt White Harbor owes to the Starks of Winterfell, a debt that can never be repaid.["]

On Bear Island:

Stannis read from the letter. "Bear Island knows no king but the King in the North, whose name is STARK.["]

With Alys Karstark of Karhold:

[“]I begged my father to leave one of my brothers as castellan, but none of them wished to miss the glory and ransoms to be won in the south. Now Torr and Edd are dead. Harry was a prisoner at Maidenpool when last we heard, but that was almost a year ago. He may be dead as well. I did not know where else to turn but to the last son of Eddard Stark.”

...

Alys knelt before him, clutching the black cloak. “You are my only hope, Lord Snow. In your father’s name, I beg you. Protect me.”

Among the northern mountain clans:

Even prisoners have ears, and she had heard all the talk at Deepwood Motte, when King Stannis and his captains were debating this march. Ser Justin had opposed it from the start, along with many of the knights and lords who had come with Stannis from the south. But the wolves insisted; Roose Bolton could not be suffered to hold Winterfell, and the Ned's girl must be rescued from the clutches of his bastard. So said Morgan Liddle, Brandon Norrey, Big Bucket Wull, the Flints, even the She-Bear.

...

Finally, after a nightmarish day when the column advanced a bare mile and lost a dozen horses and four men, Lord Peasebury turned against the northmen. "This march was madness. More dying every day, and for what? Some girl?"

"Ned's girl," said Morgan Liddle ...

"Ned's girl," echoed Big Bucket Wull.

...

"Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned's little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. No one sings songs of men who die like that. As for me, I am old. This will be my last winter. Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die. I want to feel it spatter across my face when my axe bites deep into a Bolton skull. I want to lick it off my lips and die with the taste of it on my tongue."

To all of these people, the Starks in general, and Ned Stark and his line in particular, represent a long, respected tradition of justice, protection, and fair rulership - in sum, a dynasty they love and want to uphold. Lyanna Mormont boldly defies a king who could bring an army to Bear Island if he chose; Wyman cheerfully furthers his Stark restoration conspiracy right under the Frey-Bolton noses (and gets his chin partially slit for his efforts); Alys Karstark races through the wilderness alone to get to Ned's last (so she knows) surviving son; the northern clansmen march through unrelenting, indeed punishing snowstorms toward battle against the Bolton-Frey forces - these people are willing to risk their lives and the futures of their own dynasties to restore the Starks to power, because the Stark name means something to them. All of them have faith in the Starks, a faith that can't be bought with all the gold in Casterly Rock; far from killing Stark support among Ned's former vassals, his death has only galvanized them to rally around his children. Even as Tywin's precious royal heir Tommen is teetering on the edge of his own downfall in the capital, multiple factions are working toward the restoration of the Starks to Winterfell, in almost every case because they believe in Ned and the Starks as their beloved rulers (Littlefinger's notwithstanding, and even he is partially relying on a similar chivalric sentiment from the Vale's knights; too, I tend to think Sansa will use the love of Ned's vassals for him and Jon Arryn's vassals for him to overthrow Littlefinger himself).

#asoiaf meta #tywin lannister #eddard stark #affc #adwd

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mateomeijer · 5 months

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⸻ peter gadiot, 38, cis male, he/him // in the ORCHIRD PARK neighborhood of Covington, you’ll find MATEO MEIJER who’s lived there for SEVENTEEN YEARS and they spend their days working as a DETECTIVE WITH COVINGTON PD and THE OWNER OF THE VAULT RECORD STORE. They’ve been described as PERSEVERING, GENUINE, REACTIVE, and GUARDED by the people that know them. This is his story.

Triggers: child abuse, mental illness, death/suicide

When looking back on where he has come from, Mateo doesn't like to look too deep or with too much intensity. Born and raised until aged 11 in upstate New York his father was an artist and his mother was the same. They were two painters that forged a life together after growing up with him always in pursuit of her. As kids, it had been love at first sight for his father, and his mother came around eventually. It just wasn't until after his mother's best friend had moved away to California and had married a film producer out there.

The early years his childhood was happy and warm. It wasn't until after his mother's best friend had passed away in a horrible accident in California that his mother's mental and emotional state began to decline. She drank too heavily and became abusive, first only verbally then it had become physical as well after nearly two years. Mateo's father had done everything he could to protect him and his older sister from the abuse. The man also sought help for his wife's drinking and declining health. Nothing worked. It all only got worse.

When Mateo was 11 he had walked into the converted carriage house near the main house turned working studio and found his father hanging lifeless. It's a sight that he's never been able to unsee. By the time his father was buried and laid to rest his mother had cleared out his studio and gotten rid of everything. It was only six months later that he and his older sister were taken away by the state. Unfortunately, Mateo and his sister were separated and adopted out to different families with him finding himself in the south. Covington, Georgia.

It took many years and plenty of required therapy for Mateo to come out of the poor state he'd been in. At the start he'd been unable and unwilling to open up or trust anyone despite his new family being absolutely wonderful with him. They were patient and it eventually paid off. Mateo came out of grief and survival mode with an interest and ability with music, a talented guitar player and decent songwriter. There was even a possibility of going off to music school and several times he'd been on the verge of starting a band or recording music. But, ultimately, Mateo knew that wasn't his purpose in life.

What he really needed to do was help people. So, after graduation from high school, he went off to university in Atlanta and studied criminal justice. Mateo's purpose was to become a detective, a lawman, someone that could help those in need. Partly, he wanted to learn the necessary skills for selfish reasons. His sister was out there somewhere and the desire to reconnect with her is strong. There's also the need to uncover the truth about his past and make peace with it. Once he earned his degree he came back home to Covington and became a cop. It didn't take long for him to build a very strong reputation and rise through the ranks to detective.

Many times he has received special accolades and commendations for his outstanding work. Has even been offered promotions, asked to take on a role and title with more responsibility but has always turned it down. Mateo didn't become a cop so that he would be stuck and desk and push around papers, there was no interest in the bureaucracy or business of it all. Being a detective and making a difference where he could has been all that's mattered.

Without a doubt the job is difficult and can be incredibly taxing. In times that he's nearly quit and walked away because the weight on his shoulders was too much, or he'd noticed how he'd picked up his birth mother's drinking habit, Mateo knew that he needed to find another outlet. There had to be somewhere to turn. And that happened to be music. Considering that he didn't make a ton of money but also had little expenses with no family of his own, just a house and a German Shepherd, it was easy to take his savings and buy out The Vault Record Store from it's previous owner.

A couple of years ago Mateo found a young woman badly hurt following what had appeared to be a brutal attack. It was perhaps the wrong move to make but he rushed the woman to the hospital himself knowing he could get her to help fast than it would take emergency vehicles to get to them and then take her in. With her condition critical it was a call he took responsibility for. While in emergency care and waiting on the woman to become stable Mateo had already begun the quest in finding out what had happened to her and who was responsible.

For the six months she was in the hospital in a coma Mateo visited at least once a week. At the urging of staff suggesting he talk to her, he did just that. The news would be read to her, there would be updates on her case or just him talking through what little he had, and he'd apologize for not making any progress. Her case had quickly become the one that took him over. It wasn't easy for the seasoned detective to solve, and even more frustrating that Mateo couldn't seem to find a road to travel down. When she woke he remained close to her, perhaps a little too close, and struggled with the professional boundary line.

Now, at 38, his mother has reached out to him. Sick and with not much time left Mateo's under even more pressure to find out where things went wrong in the past. There's some secrets he knows he has to uncover and most days he's not sure if he wants to. What he has never told anyone, not his therapist when he was adopted or his sister before they were separated, was that he still has the note his father left.

#covingtonintro #( 📌 pinned post ; )#( never had much time for nostalgia ; )

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kinetic-elaboration · 11 months

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July 9: Murphy/Clarke, Secret

Very early S1 Murphy/Clarke, ~1,000 words, for the prompt "secret" for July Break Bingo @julybreakbingo.

This ficlet was also written in response to a request by Robrae in a comment on AO3 for Clurphy in canonverse.

Written in about 40 minutes.

Back in the Skybox, most of the guys put on a front: fearless, arrogant, and rude. This exaggerated bravado was partly to ward off the usual existential dread—the prison atmosphere, the looming threat of death. But also to attract girls.

Skybox courtship followed a certain pattern: first annoyance and rejection, then curiosity, sometimes amusement, then boredom. Eventually even the assholes with their unsubtle pickup lines started to look pretty good. Horniness, and more dread. Pretty soon you're hooking up to feel alive or starting relationship drama to pass the time.

Clarke was in solitary so she doesn't know any of this, and unlike the girls in gen pop, she has neither time nor patience for sly winks and swagger. All the guys showing off their new Earth muscles by chopping wood or curing meat, they're trying to gain points with Bellamy and his crew first and foremost, sometimes, depending on who’s watching trying to flirt. But they're not trying to lure Clarke. They know better.

Murphy knows better too, which is why he's just as shocked as the rest of camp would be, if they only knew, that every other night he and Clarke trade off sneaking into each other's tents. Without discussion, they agreed that their arrangement should remain a secret. Something unspoken perhaps because it's shameful, perhaps because it's too ill-defined and ill-formed. What's he supposed to say anyway? That Clarke's his girlfriend? Not likely. Attaching labels to it, squashing it down into words and sentences, confessions, rumors, announcements or news, all that would tip over the delicate balance they've created. Just like they're baking a soufflé, they have to be quiet. Too much noise would send the whole thing falling down.

Clarke would probably find the soufflé metaphor funny, because, like most people, she doesn't know that the cook books in the Ark library database were his favorites. She'd laugh if he tried to call himself a chef. He's a lackey. A thug. He's in with the in-crowd because Bellamy saw something useful in him, something dead about the eyes that screamed out enforcer—or maybe he just knows from his little brat of a sister that Murphy was a lifer, unaccustomed to normal society, ready to follow strength and show it loyalty.

Most of that is true.

So if Clarke sees those traits in him and no others, he can't blame her, and if he keeps the quiet, soft, vulnerable parts of him hidden, whatever they are, it's for the same reason he put up his tough guy persona every day for four and a half long years up in the box: to ward off the dread, to get the girl.

A part of him says that Clarke wouldn't laugh, that she'd get real quiet and thoughtful and maybe brush his hair out of his eyes. He's been watching her during the day. She bends and softens at vulnerabilities; she knows she'll never get anything out of people who are kicked when they're already down. But then maybe he just likes the fantasy of it: a beautiful woman with power who tells him his dreams aren't dumb, who speaks with authority in the dark and silence just as she does out there in the chaos of daylight in the camp.

How he got such a girl he still doesn't entirely know. He'd cut himself badly working on one of the new structures, the wooden hutch where they hope to cure their meat. She was alone in the corner of the Dropship they've curtained off as Medical, and as she wiped the blood away and he hissed low curses and winced at the pain, she started talking to distract him, and he found out she was calm and clear-headed and brave in a crisis. That she looked beautiful as she pressed antiseptic to his skin, and that she could make him laugh when he didn't think he could. What she saw in him in those moments, he has no idea. That's just another secret, too deeply buried to disturb. But she held his hands a long time, even after he was all bandaged up and ready to go. She was kneeling on the floor in front of him, strands of hair pasted to her forehead with sweat.

He thought she'd probably banish him for kissing her but it seemed a fair risk, for that one reckless moment of time before he leaned in. Instead, she grabbed fistfuls of his hair and bit his lip.

In the perfect silence of the hour before the changing of the guard, that night, she crept across the dirt and deadened, yellow grass and scraped her nails like ghost-sounds down the nylon side of his tent. He let her in.

Maybe he's just around, a body, an opportunity—something she missed in her months of isolation, an outlet to her frustrations and her fatigue and her fears. Except she could have any damn person in camp if she wanted them. Maybe she's with him because she knows he won't brag. Ms. Griffin the Council Member's daughter in his bed.

Sometimes afterward they lie together in the quiet, listening to the wind in the trees, the footsteps of the night watch on patrol. Low, skittering forest sounds that he can't name. Tree leaves swept off their branches and thrown against the tent. Clarke climbs half on top of him and presses her ear to his heart and he gets his fingers all tangled up in her hair. They talk about the Skybox and he tells her about the arrogant and frightened young men. Then other stories. The long years, the distortion of time, the rituals—visiting day, birthdays, holidays—the new people coming in and the old going out. Less often, they talk about the camp and its progress. Sometimes she tells him about her parents and her friends back on the Ark.

She holds back a lot more than he does. He hears the hesitation in her voice, the care she puts into her words.

But it's all right.

He feels her chest rising and falling as she breathes, pressed against his chest. She's warm and heavy on top of him. Some nights it feels like she might stay there forever, like the time before the last gray hour before dawn, when she'll gather up her stuff and sneak away, is really all the time left in the world.

#the 100 #clurphy #murphy x clarke #clarke griffin #john murphy #mine #my writing #julybreakbingo #the year 2023 #2023: free write #2023: request #sort of

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introverted-imagineer · 1 year

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A Land Across Seas (Requested)

Leif Erikson x Reader

Requested: I really liked your writing and was wondering if you could do a story on Leif Style where she is a strong warrior and does not mind killing anyone, but begins to sympathize with Leif and his way of being

Warnings: Violence, Language, Murder, Death, Conflict, Themes of Trauma, Stress (Please take care)

Author Note: This story was requested by one of our lovely fellow Imagineers. Thank you for the inspiration!

'Your anger gets the best of you child' Jarl Haakon announces from the sidelines of the private training grounds buried deep within Kattegat's woodlands. We're Vikings, we're supposed to be fierce, strong, and unstoppable. What did she want me to be? Joyous while slinging axes at tree trunks? I could feel a fire in my stomach as heat traveled to my cheeks, contending with the cool layer of sweat that covered my forehead. I dropped the axe at my feet, bringing my hands up to my head to gel back the loose strands of hair that unwound from my long braids. Partly from annoyance, but mostly from frustration. Jarl Haakon slowly strode over to the tree trunk that had endured the brute of my thrashing. She gently lifted her hand to the trunk, brushing her hand down, following the rough concave fixture I had ingrained within the short hour we had been here. I don't know why she seemed so taken by my target, a few more throws and she would probably have firewood to last the week.

She stared back at me, a smirk, raising her left eyebrow. I lifted an eyebrow back in confusion, taking in my surroundings to see the few other people causing just as much havoc as I had. The only difference was their strikes on their tree trunks were slick, and clean, their bases still sturdy. Mine, however, a gentle push and the tree would probably fall. 'Y/N, I chose you to join the shield maidens because you come from a long line of victorious and honourable warriors. Your father, your mother, and their mothers and fathers long before, but you are troubled too easily'. Naturally, I rolled my eyes in response. I had heard this speech growing up my entire life. 'Don't get involved in other people's fights'. 'Why is your first instinct to always punch someone?'. 'Y/N come outside and apologise to this person'. 'Why can't you be more like your sister?' .'For the love of the Gods Y/N, you've really done it this time'. I came from a lineage of fierce warriors who spent generations fighting for Kattegat, all I was told and taught growing up was that I was going to be the same, one way or another.

It was always an ongoing issue. The new ways versus the old ways. I was stuck in the old ways. Uncontrollable, rage driven, provokable. The new ways, although still true characteristics to being a Viking somewhat, being new Vikings meant having a logical outlook on revenge and warfare. A trait that I clearly didn't have. By the end of her speech, the few other occupants of the training grounds had directed their attention to our conversation. I could feel the veins in my neck press against the surface of my skin as I took deep breaths. 'Fuck off' I mumbled to the other shield maidens, storming off down the hill back toward Kattegat, leaving the Jarl to continue her training session.

⊰ ……………………… ⊱

Mornings in Kattegat were always busy. The ports especially were always the centre of livelihood. With a constant revolving routine of merchants travelling in and out of Kattegat to trade and sell their goods, like expensive silks, weaponry, food, thralls, and loot; There was never a dull moment in Kattegat. Within the walls of Kattegat however, even with the frequent influx of visitors, the population remained the same. Most families had a history here that drew back generations, most of us living in the very same homes our families had always lived in. I knew Kattegat and its people like the back of my hand, everything had always been a constant.

I wearily peeped my head around the longhouses that populated central Kattegat. I could hear the familiar sound of sizzling hot metal as it was dunked in pales of cold water to cool the carefully moulded metal. When there was no exploration, no war, no fighting, he made weapons. Fixed them, created new ones, and restored old pieces. Father's blacksmith shack was located a few doors down from our longhouse, and I didn't want him to see me. When the banging of his hammer against metal could be heard, that meant it was safe to pass because his back would be turned. So I waited in the shadows until the clanging of metal sounded from the shack again. I made a point to tip-toe down the path, as the centre of Kattegat was mostly deserted at this time of morning as everyone was either inside breaking fast, or down at the ports where the markets were. Mother would likely be at the port's trading for the freshest catch before the fish sat there too long and warmed with the warming sun in the rarely sunnier months in Kattegat.

As the clanging of metal continued to sound, I approached our home quietly. 'Ah the infamous daughter returns' a gruff, winded, familiar deep morning voice sounded from behind me. I let out a loud groan of defeat as I slung my arms down by my sides, turning around with my head down in shame. 'You're back early, what did you do this time?' He questioned with comical value. 'I…thought I'd come to help you?' I wearily, almost too cheerfully stated, unsure of my confidence in the lame excuse. His shoulders shook as he lowered his head, shaking it trying to stifle a laugh. 'I know you all too well Elskan'. I crossed my arms, huffing at the annoying nickname I had harboured since childhood. Elskan, meaning my darling, sweet one. Something everyone had no trouble making sure I knew I was anything but. The clanging of metal ceased momentarily as the perpetrator of the sound directed their attention to me 'Y/N' Baldr called, waving his hammer above his head in greeting. My sister's husband. The only person father actually trusted to help him in the shack. 'When did Baldr get in?' I questioned confusingly. 'This morning, they are only staying for the day before going back to Kjorseyrr. Your sister and the kids are at home with your mother' he almost lectured. 'And don't expect any breakfast Elskan, you're meant to be home when training actually finishes…NOT WHEN YOU LOSE YOUR TEMPER' he yelled as I stormed off toward the house. At the very least, my nephews would be pleased to see me.

As soon as I stepped in the door, I was on my backside as two small bodies jumped on my front. 'FOR KJORSEYRR' Ulrik shouted, whilst Vali prodded his small wooden sword into my stomach. Yanking the toy from Vali's grasp, I reached my arm around their waists, rolling over onto my stomach pinning the giggling pair beneath me. 'You will be blood eagled for your treason, Kjorseyrr is still part of Kattegat' I proclaimed in a coarse, deep growl. 'Oh Y/N why such dark threats' my mother barked as the boys continued to giggle. 'It was just a joke mother' I groaned back, making faces behind her back as the boys stifled more laughter. 'Don't speak of such things in front of them when they are so young Y/N, they don't need to know of such things' Yrsa lectured, which always uncomfortably penetrated my very core. 'Well dear sister, they do come from a long lineage of warriors….' I snarked back, imitating the Jarl's voice. My mother turned around, giving me that look that mothers do. 'They also come from a family of triumphant and skilful farmers' Yrsa retorted. 'Yes, but you should be embarrassed your sons go around screaming for the victory of a small peninsula like Kjorseyrr' snorting at my wit. Yrsa huffed, rolling her eyes. 'Come give your big sister a kiss'. I walked over, hugging her from the side, placing a quick kiss on her puffed cheeks. Her stomach was full, too large now to be able to hug her from the front. 'This little one seems ready to come out' I joked poking at her stomach, feeling a gentle kick back. 'Well if this little one is as active out here as she is in there, you may just have a new best friend Elskan.' She retorted displeasingly.

Kjorseyrr was a small island off the coast of Kattegat's shore, a short row away. Mostly an island for farming families, which Yrsa became part of when she married Baldr. Yrsa and I certainly didn't agree on much, nor were we alike in the slightest. The gentle and the vicious ones everyone always referred to us as. But at its core, we were very close. Visits with them were always confined to the space of a day, once a week at least so Baldr could help father in the shop. But also so we could see Yrsa and the boys.

The morning daylight turned to a blue sky, a warm breeze engulfing Kattegat. The day passed with lively conversation, not without lectures directed at me every so often, cooking, fishing, and playing. But days with Yrsa were too short and passed quickly, as the blue sky slowly emitted an orange hue, meaning it was time for Yrsa, Baldr and the boys to return to Kjorseyrr. 'Are you coming to the ports Y/N?' father questioned, his hands resting on his portly belly as he finished digesting the evening stew. 'I better stay and get an early rest, the Jarl will probably be extra hard on me tomorrow morning' I moaned. With a quick goodbye kiss and cuddle, the lively hut turned to utter silence.

⊰ ……………………… ⊱

As I lay in bed lightly dosing off, an unfamiliar horn emitted from afar. I sat up, listening as the horn continued to roar from afar. I got up from the straw mattress, peeking my head through the curtain divider to see my parents sleeping quarters unoccupied. Walking outside, the sun had almost set, but similar to myself, other people had their heads poked out to see where the commotion was coming from. The horn sounded from the ports. I grabbed my father's coat, threw it over my sleeping dress, and walked down the path toward the ports, getting closer to the sound. Some people followed, and most went back to their evening undisturbed.

I stopped on the outskirts of Kattegat's walls, I could see my mother walking toward the gate, whilst my father stood on the edge of the port, handling the heavy rope to dock the small sailing boat that came into Kattegat's harbour. As mother wrapped her loving arm snugly around my waist, she began to slowly walk forward back toward the port, my body unwillingly stumbling along. 'Who is that?' I questioned. 'And why are they blowing their horn so loudly in the evening?', a slightly obvious irritation in my voice. 'I'm not sure Elskan…'. Their unfamiliar accents could be heard, asking about how many boats had arrived before them, while one of the figures shouted orders at the few other members of the crew. They were dressed in heavy, thick grey skins, held together by thick frayed stitches. They seemed friendly enough, they weren't causing any fuss, asking my father questions politely. But they weren't unloading any goods. It was too small to be a trading boat, or grand enough to harbour anyone of significant status. These people…were unfamiliar.

The bodies slowly made their way up the port toward land. The smell of sweat and salt emitted from them. They slowly nodded in greeting as they passed, walking toward the gates of Kattegat. One stayed behind, talking to my father as he busied himself with the ropes to secure the boat to the dock. Father said something, pointing in our direction. The stranger nodded, lifting his hand in a polite thank you, before turning his stature, and making his way toward us. He had brown shoulder-length hair that had tints of gold, likely a consequence of being in the sunlight too much. His beard was short in length, unlike that of the Kattegat natives who took pride in growing out their facial hair, braiding and beading them. His eyes almost naturally squinted, eyebrows busy, his nose slightly upturned. He stopped in front of us, his legs almost jelly-like on the solidarity of land.

'Hej Matron' he greeted, directed at mother, with a slight bow of his head as a respectful endearment. 'Hej' he nodded as he locked eyes with mine, flicking his irises down my body quickly. 'Hej…' I replied uncertainly. I could feel my mother's fingernails dig into my side as a warning, I knew what she was saying, behave. 'Your husband said you might be able to show me where my crew and I might be able to find resources to refresh ourselves' he politely enquired. His eyes flicked to mine twice in his short sentence. 'Where have you come from son?' My mother questioned, acknowledging his youthful stature. 'We have come from Greenland…my name is Leif Erikson' directing his gaze toward me when he said his name. 'Well Leif Erikson, from the looks of your appearance, you have had an eventful journey' she said, almost mothering the young stranger. 'Most people have retired for the evening, but you and your friends may come to our home for a hot meal'. 'That would be most appreciated' he sighed in relief, bowing his head again as a sign of respect.

My mother's arm unwound from my side, walking toward the seven others who stood at the gates of Kattegat. He nodded at his peers, then directed his gaze toward my own. 'I am Leif' he said, locking his gaze with my own, his mouth slightly ajar as if he expected to say something else. But nothing came out. 'You just said that' I retorted. 'You must have a name also?' He questioned, again his eyes flicking up and down, taking in the details of my face…as if he wasn't close enough already. I answered with silence, taking him in, and squinting my eyes back. 'TAKE HIM BACK TO THE HOUSE ELSKAN' my father called from the ports. 'Elskan' he repeated, giggling at the pet name. I turned on my heels, stalking back toward the gates of Kattegat. 'Come on Greenlander' I called, pacing at least ten feet in front of him.

The Greenlanders slurped greedily at the hot stew, as they sat close to the fiery pot, basking in the heat it omitted. It was as if they hadn't eaten in days, they just seemed to eat more and more until the wooden spoon was scraping the edges of the pot. 'Please excuse our gluttony, I hope we have not eaten you out of house and home' Leif kindly stated. My mother chuckled 'Not at all, we are happy to help'. I sat on one side of the iron pot, as Leif sat opposite. I watched intently as he ate, his eyes simply staring back at me, occasionally smiling to himself as he scooped more of the steaming stew into his mouth. His lips slightly curled upward. 'What?' I said, shrugging my shoulders. 'Y/N' my mother hissed. Leif raised his eyebrow, humour, and satisfaction in his expression. 'Y/N…pretty name' he said. 'Twas my mother's name' my mother said satisfied at the compliment, her cheeks a slight blush to them.

The main door creaked open, and Jarl Haakon walked into the house, skin glowing a gentle orange tinge with the evening candlelight. 'Jarl Haakon' my mother fussed, standing up as she entered the room. 'Do not let me disturb you Estreya, I'm not here because of Y/N, I have come to meet the visitors' she said, striding into the room, yet still giving her coat to mother as she walked in. My mother visibly relaxed at the fact that the Jarl was not here for me…this time. The Greenlanders stood to attention, noting the Jarl's grand stature. 'Please, let us sit'.

The candle wax slowly melted to nubs as the Greenlanders told a tale of their voyage across the dangerous seas. But their tale did not answer what the Jarl truly wanted to know. 'Why have you come to Kattegat?' She questioned. Leif flicked his eyes to mine, before reaching down into his coat, unravelling a piece of paper to reveal a drawing, handing it to the Jarl, directing his gaze back at her. 'We are looking for a Viking who wears this cross' he said. She inspected the piece of paper, the Greenlander with long golden locks particularly eager to hear what the Jarl made of this information. Jarl Haakon sighed…the blonde girl's shoulders dipping low in disappointment. 'I do not know of anyone, but Kattegat is a place that worships the Pagan Gods, the true Gods. Anyone wearing something like this will certainly stand out from the crowd' she said, giving hope to the Greenlander's quest.

The Jarl Rose from her stool, walking toward the door. 'Who did you say your father was?' She questioned, directing her gaze at Leif. 'Erik' he said. 'Erik is my father also' the blonde girl stated. Jarl Haakon turned her attention back to the group, satisfied by their answer. 'Your father was once a great friend to me. A very strong warrior, but a very lively temper…' she smirked, directing her gaze at me. 'Freydis, my half-sister' he motioned, introducing her to us Kattegat natives. 'I hope you are both as skilled in combat as your father?' She questioned. 'Freydis is the more talented shield-maiden, I myself am more of an explorer, I am more comfortable on a ship than I am with a weapon' he humbly spoke. The Jarl particularly took interest in the first part of his sentence. 'Well Freydis, you must come and show me your skills' she said, a slight giddiness in her voice. The Jarl dramatically raised her arm slowly, her mouth forming a satisfied smile, then pointing her finger at me. 'Y/N, here, will bring you to my private training grounds for training in the morning, you can show me your skills then'. Freydis directed her gaze toward me for the first time, like her brother, glancing up and down my figure as if assessing her competition. The Jarl walked toward the door but turned to make one more announcement. 'If you are anything like your father, you may one day be a great leader for the shieldmaidens.'

I could feel my mother's gaze burning into my soul, telepathically trying to communicate 'BEHAVE'. But my relaxed figure visibly turned tense, my shoulders moving deeply, my chest rising and falling. Freydis let out a slight chuckle at my change in demeanour. 'We should go' Leif quickly announced, the tension in the room obvious. 'Where will you go?' Mother asked concerned as Leif rushed to put his thick coat back on. 'We will sleep on our ship' he said, grabbing Freydis by the forearm, ushering the Greenlanders out the door before mother could protest. 'Thank you for your hospitality' he said, shoving the other Greenlanders out the door in front of him. 'Freydissss' I heard him hiss, an undertone of growl, as they walked back toward the dock.

'You will be nice to that girl' mother retorted as she gathered the empty bowls. A scoff emitted from my mouth followed by a groan of displeasure. 'You have caused the Jarl enough trouble as it is, please Y/N, for me, just do as you're told' she almost begged. 'Urgh, fine' I groaned, taking the bowls from her hands to put them in the water pale to soak. I never meant to cause my family so much trouble, nor the Jarl Haakon either. Growing up, I was always destined to be a warrior. Not like I had a choice in the matter, it was something that was always expected of me. Mother and Father were triumphant, but they settled down after we were born. The Jarl however always said she wasn't going to let that talent go to waste, and so she always made sure that I knew that I was going to be a shield maiden. Offering private lessons, making me clean weapons from childhood until an age where I was old enough to wield my own. I had become what they made me. Why was everyone always so annoyed with me? What they made me?

⊰ ……………………… ⊱

'Hej' an unfamiliar voice spoke, prodding at my sleeping side. 'Get up' the voice demanded, now rigorously shaking my shoulder. I grabbed the wrist of the person, digging my thumb into its centre 'ah, stop' the voice hissed. 'You have a lot of nerve coming into my home and demanding things' I snarked as my eyes fluttered open. 'Yeah well your Jarl wants us both to go train with her, opportunities don't appear like that in Greenland, and I'm not letting some anybody ruin that for me' she stated, ripping the blanket from my body. I sat up, my back and joints clicking loudly, slightly alarming Freydis. I smirked, holding her gaze 'this is what hard work sounds like Greenlander' I remarked. Freydis stood at the bottom of my mattress, throwing the clothes from my stool at me. 'Really? I wouldn't have been able to tell' she retorted. 'But then again…your Jarl did basically call me the more talented shield-maiden, and all I was doing was eating stew' she snarked.

My stomach turned to fire.

⊰ ……………………… ⊱

The training grounds were relatively quiet this morning. But then again, for once I didn't have Jarl Haaken yelling and barking orders at me. Instead this morning her time and attention were being taken up by Freydis. I kneeled in the corner, sharpening my axes as I tried to ignore the praises Jarl Haaken directed at the Greenlander, and that of her father.

The morning continued relatively peacefully until a young boy came running up the hill bounding towards the Jarl. 'Jarl….Haaken….' He said in between deep breaths as his pink cheeks rose and fell in exhaustion. 'The King of Denmark….lots of boats….he's here'. The puzzled look on the Jarl's face indicated her surprise at the arrival. 'Freydis, Y/N, you both will stay here, everyone else is to follow me' she said, her cloak swishing at her feet as she turned around, taking the young boy by the hand with her down the hillside.

'What does the King of Denmark want in Kattegat?' Freydis questioned. 'Well seeing as you are the Jarl's new best friend, why don't you tell me?' I sarcastically snarked back. 'Well, well well, the little Elskan is jealous' she taunted. It wasn't her comment that got to me, it was her annoying laugh, satisfied at her own, unoriginal, wordplay. 'Tell you what, why don't we fight right here, right now, and we can put this jealousy behind us' she said, a hint of excitement in her voice.

The swing of my axe thrust from my arm as I swung my weapon toward her body. She jumped back, taken by surprise at the immediateness of movement. She ducked to the ground, swooping her leg underneath my feet. My bottom shattered against the ground as she reached for a discarded sword. I stood up immediately as did she, circling one another. She roared, her feet moving as if it were a meticulously choreographed dance, moving from my front to my back skilfully, thrusting the hilt of her sword into the small of my back. My body arched forward in response to the stinging pain. With my axe in hand, I dipped back, bridging my back as my legs stayed sturdy on the ground. Skilfully I swung the axe in a circle above my body, tactfully thumping the blunt poll of the axe against her thigh. Another roar emitted from her, this time, a painful cry. I put my hands down, kicking my legs back, tumbling over so I was now on all fours. The sound of her sword clanging against the rocks as her body slammed into mine. Hair pulled, kicks, punches, tumbling on the ground, desperately crying to get the upper hand. As I pushed my body atop hers, mounting my weight to pin her down, Freydis's arm reached to the side, and within seconds, a blade was at my neck. I quickly reached into my boot, pinning my pocket knife to her neck. 'Give up Elskan' she spat. 'You'll be dead before I give up Greenlander' I hissed back, my saliva spitting droplets down at her face.

Without warning, a pair of arms looped around my waist, pulling me back from Freydis. She sat up laughing as I struggled against whoever had me nestled into their chest, holding me for dear life. Freydis picked up her blade, chuckling menacingly to herself, before letting out a triumphant yell and running toward me. As quickly as I was whipped away, my body was now thrown to the ground. 'FREYDIS STOP' Leif's familiar voice yelled. 'MOVE BROTHER' she demanded. Leif grasped her wrist, holding her armed hand, not moving as she struggled slightly against him. She finally dropped her weapon. He sighed in relief taking in both our appearances. Her hair had mostly fallen out of its braid, a bruise forming on her temple. I could taste the metallic blood pouring from my split lip. We both took in deep breaths, almost huffing at one another. 'Jarl Haakon has sent me to get you both, she requests our presence in the great hall' he stated.

⊰ ……………………… ⊱

The docks of Kattegat were fuller than usual, boats docking boats, the port almost struggling to keep them all in the water as the gentle swell of waves got rougher. The great hall was packed full, many of whom were unfamiliar to the usual population of Kattegat. Many of these people bearing symbols of Christ. Making our way to the front of the room, Jarl Haakon sat on her throne next to a man, his eyes as dark as his raven hair. 'Jarl Haakon' I announced. She stopped mid-conversation, her and her counterpart's eyes directing toward us, she closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. 'I don't even want to know what happened Y/N' she stated bluntly, ignoring Freydis in a similar state of being. Muddied, bloody and bruised. 'Please, pay your respects to our guest, King Canute of Denmark she gestured. I gave a slight bow, but I couldn't guess what she wanted. Canute gave a slight nod of the head in response, but his gaze focused on the two Greenlanders in their unique style of dress.

'You are not from here?' Canute says to the Greenlanders. 'We are from Greenland' Freydis says, men in the hall gathering in, taking great surprise in her beauty. 'Their father was one of the greatest warriors I have ever met' Jarl Haakon stated, almost bragging to sell a prized pig. Canute nodded, his face taking great interest in the facts. 'And who is this?' Canute said, asking Jarl Haakon instead of the person in question standing right in front of him. Behave Y/N, Behave. 'She is one of my shield maidens in training' she answered. In training…that made me angry. I wasn't technically a shield maiden, but my labours had long since been exploited since childhood to serve the shield maidens with my every waking moment. I could hear a deep chuckle emit from Canute. He leaned forward in his seat, his forearm now resting on his knee, his other hand firmly grasping the armrest of his chair. 'this one' he pointed laughing 'this one has a fire in its belly' he chuckled.

Fuck this. I wasn't going to take this shit from some Christian. I rolled my eyes, turning on my heel, brushing my shoulders violently with Freydis. Canute continued to chuckle. 'Y/N' the Jarl shouted across the room, making the crowded hall silent. 'You will do for me a job' she demanded. I rolled my eyes, slowly turning around as the sea of Vikings parted like the tale of Moses and the red sea. I didn't step forward, instead simply crossed my arms in defence. Jarl Haakon took in a deep breath, clearly displeased with my attitude, which wasn't improving as Canute and Freydis exchanged smug looks. 'One year ago, to this day' she announced, addressing the entire room. 'A trust, an agreement, a sacred bond created BY THE GREAT RAGNAR LOTHBROK' she yelled, emitting cheers from the Vikings as they basked in the glory of their great forefather. 'Saint Brice's Day, a day of celebration, turned into an unjust and vicious murder of Vikings on the Saxon Land! Bloodshed, Murder, but…not a defeat' she mustered, earning more cheers from the crowd. 'We will gather Vikings across our seas, WE WILL BUILD A GREAT ARMY! WE WILL AVENGE OUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS AND TAKE BACK WHAT IS RIGHTFULLY OURS' she exclaimed. The Vikings cheering louder than before. But I stood silent, tense. What did this mean for me?

'You Y/N will go to Kjorseyrr and gather all those who are able and willing to fight'. I could feel my stomach drop. 'Why can't somebody with the right…skill…go to Kjorseyrr?'. It was no secret, I was a warrior, I was not a sailor by any means. But when it was expected you would become a shield-maiden, why bother learning any other skill? She lifted her hand, and then took a moment to reflect before a satisfied smile came to her face. 'You will take the Greenlander with you' she answered satisfied. Fuck my life.

⊰ ……………………… ⊱

'Just think of the positives Elskan' mother said soothingly as I lay on my straw mattress. 'At least Yrsa will be there when you get there' again trying to find anything to make me feel better about the whole situation. 'When do they want you to go?' She inquired. 'First thing in the morning' I responded in a mumble.

Our conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. Father opened the door timidly, poking his head inside. 'Leif Erikson is here to see you' he said. I groaned. The last person I wanted to see right now or hear from was a Greenlander. 'If you don't come out, I'll send him in' father threatened. My mother gave a gentle but loving swat to my bottom like she did when I was a child. Like a person does to a horse as a way to say hurry up. I dragged my feet along the floor, making sure the Greenlander knew of my displeasure at seeing him. 'Hej' he said. I nodded in response. 'The breeze outside is going to get stronger, a dark cloud comes from the west' he explained, all three of us listening intently. 'We should go today, now even, so we get as smooth a ride as possible' he explained. 'W..why don't you just go' I questioned, standing firm in my spot, crossing my arms in front of me. 'Well I don't know anyone on this Kjorseyrr island you speak of' he said humorously, taking pleasure in stating the obvious. 'You'll get there in time for supper' mother emitted cheerfully, grabbing a thick coat from its hook on the wall, and thrusting it overtop of me before pushing me toward the door. 'We will see you very soon Elskan' father said shutting the door behind us. I stood by the door, stomach aching. Leif stood staring, his lip curling up into a slight smile. 'Coming shield-maiden?'.

⊰ ……………………… ⊱

The dock was deserted as Kattegat had gone home for the evening. The boats and ships were docked in the port securely to protect them from the oncoming bad weather. 'Maybe we should just do this another day' I said seeing the rip of the waves roughly spit upon the shore. 'Come on, it shall be a quick trip' he turned to the west pointing at the sky 'see those clouds. There will be a short break of rain before the rain comes, we will be fine coming back, it will be a relatively smooth trip' he said, satisfied with the departing of his knowledge.

'If anything happens Greenlander, just know I have no issue at all killing you' I said sternly. He seemed to smirk at the threat, before really looking at me to realise I was completely serious. 'Well, we best get a move on' he said uncomfortably, walking down the dock to a small row boat. 'Why don't we take a bigger vessel?' I questioned. 'This will be perfectly fine' he said as he jumped into the row boat, it wobbling underneath him. The unbalanced rock at his feet did not at all seem to phase him. I stood at the edge of the dock, my feet firmly bound to the floor as I inspected the blackened clouds that slowly moved across the sky. My body, before was fine, but now breaking into a cold sweat. I could feel the anxiety rising to my chest as my breaths became deep and shallow, not seeming to reach my lungs at all. 'Coming?' He questioned, his eyes squinting up at me, unsure of my stature. I looked back at him, nothing but a blank stare. He stood below, still unfazed by the motions beneath him, simply holding his hand up, palm outstretched as an invitation for my hand to nestle in his. I stared down at his hand, gently reaching to grasp my palm in his.

But it was not to be, I could feel my fingers shake as they gently brushed against his own, but everything in me told me to pull away. I knew I couldn't do this.

'You're afraid' he said in a questioning manner, but more matter of factly. I didn't respond, instead turning to face away from the tiny vessel against the wavy seas that sent shivers down my spine. 'The vicious shield-maiden is afraid of water' he cautioned. 'Everyones afraid of something Greenlander' I hissed through my teeth. 'Yes but most people who do value life, whereas you don't seem to' he remarked, almost correcting me. 'Who said I didn't value life?' I scolded in retaliation. 'Well…you tried to kill my sister, you threatened to kill me, I saw you at training. You're vicious, a cold-blooded killer…Viking' he retorted. I turned around, a gaze to kill as my nostrils flared. 'Everyone who lives has to die…what's the point of trying to challenge that? What's the point of caring' I forewarned. Leif responded with a smile, a short laugh emitting. Most people found the topic of death dire, so why was he laughing? He shifted his weight, putting his hands on his hips as he shook his head. 'What?' I forewarned. 'If you do not fear or care about death, then why will you not just get in the boat? You're afraid of something, which means there's something you value' he teased. I turned around, my eyes fixated on the movement of waves that swooshed loudly, threateningly. My heart was beating so loud, Leif could probably hear it over the swells. With one of his feet firmly placed in the boat, he reached his arms up, lightly crusted palms, the roughness of its touch evident. 'Fuck' I groaned, leaning into his touch as his hands wrapped cautiously around my waist, lifting me with ease, placing me close within his grasp as I landed on the boat. Our eyes flickered, as our noses nearly brushed against one another. A nervous squeal escaped as the boat rocked at the new distribution of weight. Leif's arm wrapped around the small of my back, pulling me closer into his firm hold. My chest pressed up against his as his other hand reached for the ore. His eyes flickered down my body once again, so I took a step back distancing myself from his touch.

'Your fingers will bleed if you keep gripping the sides of the boat like that' Leif said aimlessly. I could feel every swoosh of every bumpy wave beneath us, splinters digging into my fingers, and the smell of salt against the wood. The salty water splashed at the already salty cold sweat that bore from my cheeks. Nauseous at the feeling of an empty stomach, but as Leif continued to row, more kept coming up. Leif, however, was not phased by my sickness, nor alarmed by the movement of the boat. 'There's no need to panic shield-maiden, we can still see land' he said as if it were meant to be of comfort. 'I can't swim' I sternly yelled back. He brought the ores into the boat, relaxing as he leant back against the side of the boat, his arms resting outstretched across the frame. 'W..wh. why have you stopped?' I managed through chattering teeth. He smiled 'there's no use, the current is going where we want it, it will take us there. No use wasting energy'. His body locked on mine, his eyebrows raised in concern. Without hesitation, Leif stood up, and walked across the boat, sitting on the seat next to me. His legs thigh pressed against mine as he nestled himself into the small space. His body pushed mine slightly more to the side as I sat frozen. A gentle brush of fingers pulled the loose strands behind my ear as I averted my gaze to the puddle of water at my feet. 'So' he said, leaning forward so his forearms rested on his thighs, trying to catch my gaze in his. 'Why are you afraid?' He asked quizzically. I shook my head in response.

'I'll tell you what I'm afraid of if you'll tell me why you're afraid of water' he gently offered. I didn't respond, simply took in a deep breath to try to combat nausea. 'I'm afraid of being like my father' he stated, looking toward the horizon. I just nodded, enough to acknowledge his attempt at conversation. My body still shaking. 'He was a very vicious man. No mercy, no guilt, no fear, his anger got the better of him a lot' he said, almost as if confessing some dark secret. 'I don't see life the way he did, how people still do' he said with a smirk, gently pushing his knee into my thigh. 'But you have fear, he didn't, which means deep down… there's a good heart in you too'. 'Well as you said, I tried to kill your sister' I retorted, scared and frustrated with the conversation. 'See you and Freydis hate each other because you are too alike' he said. 'We're both merciless killers?' I exclaimed breathlessly. 'You're both strong shield-maidens, but you have a fear, you care about life and death more than you think you do'.

I scoffed at the notion. I didn't want to be known as a merciless killer. I wasn't. I was just a shield maiden, a Viking who was serving their purpose. 'You seem to know so much about me when I've said so little' I frustratingly yelled. 'What gives YOU people, AND NOT JUST YOU GREENLANDER, ANYONE! THE RIGHT TO TELL ME WHO I AM'. Leif leaned back, putting his hands up in defence. 'I'm sorry…I didn't mean to offend you' he said apologetically. Before I could respond, the fire in my stomach turned to churn as I leaned over the side of the boat, the contents of what was left in my already empty stomach pushing its way out of my body. A pair of hands came to my ears, pulling my hair back loosely as my hair was scrunched back. A gentle rubbing up and down my back. I liked that feeling. Yrsa always used to get me to sleep that way when we were young and shared a bed. It was the feeling of home…of safety…of love.

'I wasn't always like this you know…' I almost whispered. Leif nodded in response, enough to show he was engaged in conversation, but smart enough to realise that listening would be better than talking at this moment. 'When Yrsa and I were younger…she developed much quicker, and she got a lot of attention because of her looks'. As I concentrated on the memory, nausea began to cease. 'One night, when our mother and father were at the council meeting, Yrsa and I were in bed, when someone came into our room and ripped the covers off us.' I could feel my breath shaking 'Yrsa had rejected a young man's advances, very publicly, and he didn't like that. He came in and demanded that Yrsa either accept his proposal or be forced to'. Leif tensed, possibly more than I did. He nodded his head, waiting for me to continue the story. 'I was afraid, she was screaming. Nobody came. Even before, when I was young and innocent, people still told me that I was going to be a fierce shield maiden…that I was destined to protect Kattegat and its people.' I felt a gentle squeeze to my knee as my voice became shallower the more detail I told. 'There were so many people I didn't want to disappoint…I was scared but even in a private space, my actions felt so…so public…If I did nothing, then people would call me a coward, and I wouldn't be what everyone wanted me to be. If I did, then I would be…so I grabbed one of the weapons from my father's chest…and that's when I stopped putting so much value on life and death'. Leif nodded, simply sitting there as he processed the story. 'You're not a monster Y/N' he said as he sat contently staring at the sea ahead.

⊰ ……………………… ⊱

With Kjorseyrr in sight, I finally felt like I could breathe. I was comforted to see Baldrs boat securely tied on the rickety makeshift dock. It had been years since I had been to Kjorseyrr, and for obvious reasons, I never could bring myself to visit. I could almost kiss the ground. Land, sweet sweet land.

As we approached the farmland, the place seemed unusually deserted. The sky turned a dark grey as the strong gusts of wind blew over the crops. Kjorseyrr was usually busy as farmers spent all waking hours of their days tending to the crops. Only something really bad was enough to make the farmers justify leaving their farms unattended. All the doors to the huts and homes were firmly bolted shut…this was certainly an unnatural sight. Baldr and Yrsa's home lay on the other side of the small peninsular off the coast of Kattegat. Like everyone else on Kjorseyrr, their farm was deserted and the door was firmly shut. I looked back at Leif to see him giving me the same confused glare back. I clutched the handle of the hunting knife in my grasp, which visibly made Leif uncomfortable. 'Calm-down shield-maiden' he whispered. I turned around knife in hand with the blade facing his direction. 'This is not normal.' I stated, finalising the quick conversation. I wearily pounded on the door of the hut, but there was no answer. I pounded on the door again, only to hear the loud cry of an infant, quickly being muted. 'YRSA' I yelled, continuing to pound on the door. 'El…Elskan?' Her voice cried through chattering teeth. The door flung open, Baldr quickly hurrying me inside, only to grip his sword at the hilt at the sight of Leif. 'He's fine, Baldr, he came with me'. Baldr looked at Leif, still unsure of whether to let the stranger in. 'We were sent together by Jarl Haakon'. This was enough to convince him, but he still had his eyes locked on the stranger from across the seas.

Yrsa sat tucked in the corner of the hut, both Ulrik and Vali protectively tucked into her sides, and an infant clutched firmly in her grasp. 'When?' I asked curiously. 'Last night' she said, but instead of a smile or joy at the new babe, she shed tears of distress. Her body shook slightly, and she clutched her children tight to her, Baldr protectively guarding the door. 'What's its name?' I asked. I wish I could show more enthusiasm, but life was life, and death was death. 'Her name is Edda' she said, her voice still shaking even at departing the happy news. 'What's going on?' I asked slightly loudly, only to be shooshed by Yrsa. 'Where is everyone?' I asked in a whisper.

'Some men came last night, just moments after Edda was born' Baldr explained in a hushed tone, either to keep the children from hearing, or it was distressing for him to talk about it. 'Who?' I asked eagerly, anger beginning to wash over me. 'Christians' he whispered as if it were a forbidden word. 'Christians?' Leif repeated, taking great interest in what Baldr had to say. Leif reached into his coat, hurrying to gather whatever it was. 'Did anyone bear this cross?' He eagerly questioned. 'I can't be certain, they all wore things similar, but it is possible one did' he exclaimed with a shaking breath. 'What did they want?' I asked. 'Bloodshed'.

The Christians had come to Kjorseyrr, self-proclaimed Vikings, but they had not come for peaceful reasons. Similarly to Kattegat, Kjorseyrr was populated mostly by Pagans. Kjorseyrr, however, did not have the protection or security that Kattegat did. Kjorseyrr had always existed as a peaceful farming settlement, visitors were regular, but trouble was not. They came in the night, no less than 10, no more than 20. They came with vengeance, with sticks of fire, threatening to burn down people's entire livelihoods if people did not accept the will of Christ as their lord and saviour. A crazed man, bald with a long beard, bushy eyebrows with eyes that had nothing but darkness to them. But his intentions were not peaceful as the Christians so readily preached. A soulless man, a vengeance for murder. He was not looking to battle, he was looking to kill. Across the way, many houses had been burnt, the smell of crisp sordid maze fields that had once been blooming and plentiful in crop now shed to nothing. 'Life is life, death is death' that's all I had to say.

'What did the Jarl send you both here for?' Baldr questioned. 'The King of Denmark has arrived with an army in Kattegat' Leif explained, sitting around the fire pit. 'King Canute? He's a Christian, what does he want from us?' Baldr questioned. 'Vikings from all over are going to the Saxon land, to avenge the Saint Brice's Day massacre'. Leif seemed uncomfortable talking about the King's plan to avenge the death of those in England, while Baldr nodded, Yrsa kept silent. 'Was there anyone out there?' Yrsa whispered, but I shook my head. She looked at Baldr, they exchanged a look of relief but at its core, there was still fear.

⊰ ……………………… ⊱

Yrsa and Baldr stood close, walking across Kjorseyrr, to check on their community. Leif held my hunting knife, Baldr a sword, my trusty axe. I was clearly the more confident of the group, keeping a few paces forward. Kjorseyrr was still barren. Crops were destroyed, some structures partially burnt, and one even completely to ash. Discarded pales and the rotting flesh of a few animals let out a putrid stench. Across the peninsula, however, things were far worse. In the distance on the sandy shore of the seafront, multiple large wooden crosses had been erected. Raindrops began to spit from the grey skies, there was no going back to Kattegat tonight. The waves violently brushed up on the shore, crashing against the newly decorated beach. We continued closer to see what the Christians had left.

A piercing scream emitted from a woman standing by the beach. The four of us ran, Leif swiftly getting to her as she fell back distraught at what she had seen. The rockpools and sand by her feed ran red, painting the beach scarlet. The blood ran down the sand, pooling at the base of each cross. Baldr and Yrsa wearing stood next to the inconsolable woman as she cried and screamed. I followed the trail of blood, circling around the crucifix pillars to find the source of the blood. I looked up, squinting my eyes through the heavy rain at the multitude of crosses. Bodies of men, women, and children hung on the crosses, held up by large metal pins whacked tightly into their palms. I had seen death, I had seen bodies, I had been at the hands of someone's life…but I'd never seen anything so gruesome.

This was more than bloodshed, this was evil.

⊰ ……………………… ⊱

Peaceful fucking Christians my arse. A Christian Viking, really whoever of our forefathers would have let such a thing happen. Peaceful, merciful, charitable, passive, CHRISTIANS. I let out screams through the howling whistling wind as my axe blew off course, missing the tree trunk again. Yrsa, Baldr and Leif retreated into the hut at the signs of boiling anger that rose from within me as we walked back to the hut.

Never had I felt such hatred for anyone. An inconsolable rage, after a feeling of guilt, hopelessness and sorrow washed over me as I first saw those innocent people. Pagans were murdered and crucified. Children. Looking up at those young faces pinned to the crosses, all I could see were Ulrik and Vali's faces. But these were people I did not know but for once the fragility of life…innocent life…

I could see Yrsa peeping through the crack of the door, watching my cold, damp body, drenched by the storm that finally settled over Kjorseyrr. Flashes of light and cracks of thunder raged in the distance. Thor's mighty hammer cracked over the seas, the wind whistling as it swirled. Another throw of the axe, another miss. I screamed in anger, frustration…I couldn't get the image out of my head. 'E..Elskan' her weary voice sounded, frightening me as I turned around, the clutch of my fist colliding with the side of her face. Yrsa thudded to the ground.

'Y..Yr…Yrsa…I I I, I didn't mean to' I repeated, desperation in my hollow voice. I dropped to my knees in front of her, axe still in hand, her body flailing as she backed away. 'Y/N YOU CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE' she desperately yelled. A weight sunk down on my shoulders, forcing my hands down on the ground as hot tears streamed down my face, a cry so sullen, so pleading. Yrsa gathered her drenched self from the ground, and stormed into the hut, slamming the door behind her. I stayed on the ground…I hadn't cried so much in my life. Not only was I some merciless Viking, but I had hurt the one person closest to me in this world.

⊰ ……………………… ⊱

'I used to fight with Freydis like that…still do from time to time' a voice sounded from behind. The sky was now black, the rain easing to a misty coat over Kjorseyrr. 'I didn't mean to' I whispered. I could feel the tears, now dried on my cheeks, my lip bleeding at the intensity I had bitten down on my bottom lip. Snot hanging from my nose. I could feel Leif's presence as he kneeled down next to me, taking a seat on the muddy ground. 'I don't want to be like that' I whispered, almost begging. 'Everyone thinks I am, so I just became what everyone expected of me…and now I've just seen this…' my voice cracked, tears falling again. My body shook at the intensity of the feeling. I couldn't tell what this emotion was, but for once…it wasn't anger. 'Hey…hey, hey' his voice comforted as a gentle whisper, I could feel his arms wrap around my body. I leant into his touch. His thick coat swiped across my nose, cleaning my face with the sheds of fabric from his jumper. 'Why don't you just run away like everyone else?' I choked out. I could feel a slight chuckle emit as his chest pressed against my body. 'Because you care, you're not like what they say Y/N…you're not some Erik the red or Ivar the Boneless' he said as he stroked my hair down with his enormous hands. 'What those Christians did, that will never be you'. I sobbed at his touch, his grace, his forgiveness. 'Christians did something bad to Freydis once, long ago, she is filled with hate and seeks justice' he explained as if relieving a heavy weight off his chest. 'But, when the anger is gone, and the hate is replaced…it is hard to say if she will be truly content' he sighed. 'I am not like my sister…but do you think I am weak?' He questioned. I shook my head furiously. Leif was a fearless explorer, he didn't need to kill or fight to prove his worth as a Viking. 'You are chasing the legacies of people before you…your mother and father do not fight as much anymore, do you think they are weak?'. Again, I furiously shook my head. 'Yrsa doesn't fight, is she weak?' My answer the same.

He leaned down, cupping my hot, flushed cheeks in both his hands, forcing me to look at him through glassy eyes. 'Then Y/N, we will not be what people want us to be. We will make our own destinies' he whispered. His hot breath breathed onto my lips. The tip of our noses touched as they brushed against one another. Everything in me told me to pull away…but I didn't want to.

So I didn't.

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