#once again WHY has the abusive father been given the best writing in the series as opposed to literally any of the main characters? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr was named as a finalist in Lead411’s New York City Hot 125 in Aug 2010.

#once again WHY has the abusive father been given the best writing in the series as opposed to literally any of the main characters?

shoot-of-corruption · 9 months

Note

'🗣' + Jounouchi

☠ ― Send '🗣' + a character to hear the mun's opinion about that character.

Jounuchi Katsuya is going to be our next candidate and while I am not a puppyshipper, writing my opinions of Kaiba down is still resonating through me and now I see all their similarities again.... CONCENTRATE.

Alright, I think I got into the right headspace.

Jounuchi Katsuya was actually never my favorite character, when I read the manga as far as I did and saw the anime. I mean, I was focusing on the bad guys here, you know and ain't nobody got time for the right hand man!

Gradually, while looking at the plot more and getting to know the characters more intimately, funnily enough I saw a lot of myself in his story and behavior. And what a shock that was. He had actually annoyed me more than anything else during the first watch of the anime... I went a little cross eyed that moment, when I realized he was actually a likable character.

Seemingly getting the short straw, being content with keeping his best friend up in the air high, when he actually wants to succeed just as much, being content with failure and also still wanting to improve his odds by relentlessly pushing himself to just NOT GIVE UP at any cost. I think, if you told Jounuchi to just give up, the only reply you would receive were to be something along the line of "I don't even know how that works :D!!"

He is in my eyes actually a very tragic character, who gradually learns to accept good things back into his life. He had given up at some point, but as soon as something brought back passion and light inside of him, he had that one thing he was missing the years through abusive behavior of his father and being left behind by his mother, having his sibling stolen from him, because he would be assumed to be just a bad influence and a danger to peaceful life.

He had people he cared about, a goal to head for, something that was WORTH being alive for. While I will say that he doesn't seem to be a depressed character, this fight he has sounds a lot like the "depression" on a whole for me. Being at your lowest point and actively deciding that this kind of life will never make you happy, before stepping out to try for something so oddly little that it seems to be not even worth it, but it offers you so SO much in the end that you cannot believe how worth it was to take the risk.

He left everything behind, he stepped into because he couldn't live the life he had before and I think it was his one saving grace. The one thing he needed was just one... tiny little streak of positivity, someone to BELIEVE in him for once... and then he just exploded into a whole new realm of being.

He might not be super smart, he might not be extremely interesting on the surface, but he has deep emotions, he is a well rounded character and if you cannot admire anything about anyone, admire Jounuchi for who he actually is. His gratefulness for everything he is versus he could have been makes him such an extremely good person, that it sometimes hurts me. I see how he gets to be compared with a dog a lot throughout the whole series, but you do not have to take the front reigns at all times. You do not have to be the one lead, the hero, you don't have to sit in the front seat, when shit goes down. You can be the support everybody relies on, the one person to lean on, the love you can give is one born from something entirely good and grateful and utterly beautiful that it's simply impossible to ignore.

And that is why YuGiOh wouldn't be the same without him, Yugi wouldn't be the same without him, actually nobody would. Whatever he touches gets imbued with so much goodness and worth, it's just wonderful to see.

Sure, he has his weaknesses, but on a total count Jounuchi Katsuya is probably one of the most soulful, beautiful and amazing characters that have ever been written. His being is just content at all times. How many of us can say that about themselves... just being in balance with yourself and the people you love. I think he is AMAZING!!

#I AM NOT CRYING YOU ARE CRYING #ooc #ofthepuzzle #jounuchi katsuya #he is a hothead #but a beautiful one #opinion #ria rants #sorry i get so wordy on these #oops

4 notes · View notes

c-aureus · 3 years

Text

My opinions on the relationship between Link and Zelda in BotW, and why I personally detest romantic BotW Zelink:

A strong title, I am aware. I'm aware of the risk this runs of causing a right shitstorm lol.

I'd like to preface this essay with the disclaimer that all of the following are merely my interpretations. It is completely fine if you disagree with me.

My views are not any more or less valid than anyone else's, and do not invalidate conflicting opinions.

Nevertheless, if you are an avid BotW Zelink shipper who does not wish to hear a great deal of criticism about this pairing, then I suggest you do not read this post.

If, however, you are curious to hear my opinions, then I merely request that you keep an open mind, and be respectful of everyone else's interpretation. I will admit that these interpretations are integral to my characterisations within my fanfic series.

OK, so. Firstly. I do not think that anyone can reasonably argue with the fact that Zelda treats Link AWFULLY in the earlier memories. Indeed, BotW makes a rather large point of showing just some of the ways Zelda mistreats Link.

For context, Link is appointed as Zelda's Royal Guard by her father, the King. It is, therefore, his sworn duty to protect her, and he doesn't really have any say in the matter. But I believe that he would be proud to serve his kingdom in this capacity.

Zelda, however, takes great offence to his presence. She takes out her frustration by constantly belittling and berating Link, (knowing that she will not face repercussions for her mistreatment due to their respective positions) and repeatedly trying to escape his escort, despite the fact that he is there for her safety, and despite his best efforts to be as unobtrusive as possible to her.

And then, when Link finds her, because he is devoted to his duty of protecting her, she berates him again.

For merely doing his job.

What Zelda is showing here is that she holds utter contempt for Link and his duty, and actively tries to make his job, and his life, miserable. I cannot imagine the stress Zelda's constant absconding would have on Link, given that if he fails his duty to keep her safe, it's his arse on the line. Plus the entirety of Hyrule's arse too, given Zelda's destiny that she needs to perform.

We know from Zelda's diary that Link, despite his blank facade, IS hurt by her blatantly hurtful actions, as is completely natural and normal in his circumstances.

Now, to be completely fair, I believe that Link is highly sympathetic to Zelda. He understands why she mistreats him, especially since Urbosa spells it out in her cutscene. He understands that Zelda is in an unenviable position, and that she is taking out her frustration and anger for not being able to live up to her destiny on him.

However, despite this understanding and sympathy, that does not mean that the hurt Zelda has caused him vanishes.

He has an explanation for her behaviour. But it is NOT an excuse.

So anyway. Zelda's behaviour continues until the Gerudo desert. Remember that Zelda fled from Link's protection (again) to go to the Gerudo Town, where Link is not allowed to set foot as a male. After he tracks her down to Vah Naboris (in the dead of night - dude must have been walking all day across a desert to reach her), Zelda's first reaction when she sees him is scorn. I can't imagine how hurtful that must be.

Anyway, the next morning, Zelda ditches him YET AGAIN, making her way across the desert alone.

When she is jumped by Yiga Assassins. Who come within moments of killing (or worse, capturing) her, until Link comes flying out of nowhere to save her.

(On a little side note, some people think this is where Zelda fell in love with him. And really, at this point, Zelda knows nothing about him, since she'd never before given him the time of day. She, at best, has a crush on the concept of a Saviour)

Now, fair play to Zelda in that after this pivotal moment, she changes her attitude and behaviour towards Link, even admitting to her previous faults in her diary. This shows a surprising maturity that contrasts her previous childishness.

However, again, this does not make all of the hurt she caused him just vanish.

Now, over the next months, I believe that Zelda and Link became very close friends. Especially given that Zelda was so starved for relationships. And they come to know each other very well, especially with Zelda sympathising with Link's lack of choice in his own destiny, similar to herself.

However, well... even after this point, Zelda still mistreats Link.

I'm referring primarily to the Frog Cutscene.

Now, to preface this, in this instance, I do not believe that Zelda is behaving maliciously to Link intentionally. I believe that she is trying to tease him.

However, her behaviour is not ideal.

In this cutscene, Link shows extreme discomfort with Zelda's insistence that he eat the live frog. This is especially significant, given his usual stoicness. The fact that Zelda causes this reaction means that he feels extremely strongly about this issue.

However, Zelda keeps insisting and pushing him, effectively taking her teasing too far, and causing Link more discomfort. Because who would want to eat a frog? (No offence to French people).

Now, coming from my own experience of having friends take teasing too far with me, and having unfortunately done the same with other people, I can say with absolute certainty that Zelda's behaviour here is not ok. Especially given Link's very apparent discomfort here.

However, there is also another aspect here that I've never seen anyone else mention.

Namely that, despite Zelda's wishes of friendship, she holds authority over Link, as Princess of the Kingdom.

As a Knight, he is duty bound to follow Zelda's orders and instructions. And one could argue that Zelda's insistence could be viewed in the context of her 'ordering' Link to eat the frog. Of course, I do not believe that this is her intention, but, from Link's perspective, there is definitely cause for reasonable doubt.

Which forces Link into the exceedingly awkward decision of having to refuse what MIGHT be an order from the Princess.

And, especially framed in the context of Zelda's previous immature, unfair behaviour towards him, he doesn't know if his refusal might cause Zelda to get all stroppy with him. Let alone other, more significant consequences that might arise from disobeying his superior.

And I feel sorry for Zelda here, seeing that she wants to view Link as a friend (or potentially more), however she must know that they are both bound by their respective positions at this point. Her behaviour is... inappropriate, and as sorry as I feel for her, that does not change the fact that she's dumping Link in an extraordinarily awkward position, and being very unfair to him.

Because, if Link does take issue with her behaviour, what can he do to stop it? Zelda is the princess, and he has no right to tell her what she can and cannot do.

Now, that is effectively the crux of my argument, however I will also note that I interpret Link to be extremely depressed in BotW, due to how much he has lost, and how he is grieving the deaths of well... everyone he's ever known, many of whom he cannot even remember. He's grieving the death of an entire civilisation, as well as people extremely close to him.

In such circumstances, it would be natural for him to resent the fact that Zelda did not awaken her power sooner, and resent Zelda's decision to have him resurrected, even in spite of him understanding the necessity of it.

Basically, whilst I interpret Link and Zelda to be very close, I am very strongly against the idea that Link would form romantic feelings for her, due to his formative impressions of her being filled with mistreatment and abuse. Whilst I do not doubt that he forgives her, the fact remains that first impressions are important. And Link's first, second, third... (and so on) impressions of Zelda are... unfavourable.

If this happened to me, then, perhaps with a healthy dose of sympathy and understanding, I could come to forgive the one who has mistreated me so extensively, as I believe Link does for Zelda.

However, I do not think that I could ever fall in love with them.

And, whilst this was not meant to involve my interpretations about Miphlink, I will say that during the whole time Zelda was abusing and disrespecting Link, Mipha was nothing but kind, accepting, caring and devoted towards him.

As such, if the sequel explicitly puts Link and Zelda into a romantic relationship, or even just strongly implies it, I will be...

Honestly, I'll be furious. Because this would run so completely contradictory to all of my interpretations about BotW and the characters.

I pray that they write with subtlety and leave reasonable room for interpretation.

Once again, these are only my interpretations. If you wish to add your own, then feel free. I'm all for having a reasonable, respectful and informed debate on the matter. However, please remain respectful of other opinions, whatever your interpretation is.

#botw #botw2 #loz botw #botw link #botw zelda #loz breath of the wild #zelda #link #miphlink #link x mipha #mipha #urbosa #lipha #long post

233 notes · View notes

avengerscompound · 3 years

Text

The Tower: Family - 27

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1740

Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of past child abuse, little angsty

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family. When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 27: The Blank Check

While the babies stayed in the medbay in intensive care I decided it was about time that my mother met Tony and Steve, and if that went well, Riley and Pietro too. It had been over six months since that meeting with her and dad, and with the babies all coming now, it wouldn’t be long until I would have the babies around me all the time and the decision of whether I let her meet my children or not would be a decision about whether I kept working to have a mother/daughter relationship with her at all. It was time to shit or get off the pot.

I invited mom to come up and have morning tea with me. Steve and Tony would be there too and if that went well FRIDAY could tell one of the others to bring Riley and Pietro down.

I spent that night with Wanda and the babies and after we had breakfast and she fed them I headed up to prepare. Everyone else had agreed to give us space and had gone to either visit Wanda and the twins or went down to the garden to play with the dogs and Riley and Pietro. I had the cooks prepare a spread of small cakes and finger sandwiches along with tea and coffee. When FRIDAY announced that she was coming up in the elevator I got up quickly.

“You both wait here,” I said to Tony and Steve.

Tony looked more nervous than I felt. I wasn’t sure why I was so nervous. I’d spent so much time with my mom lately, it wasn’t like being reunited with a stranger. I guess I just felt like this was it. Yes, I could cut her out if things turned toxic later, but if I introduced her to Riley and Pietro today, they’d go from having no grandparents to having one and I wouldn’t want to be the one that took that away from them.

“El,” Steve said gently. “Everything is going to be fine.”

I nodded and went to the elevator. It opened up just as I got to it and mom stepped out. She looked even more nervous than I felt. She had a couple of large gift bags in her hands and she looked around the entryway in awe. It was her first time in the penthouse, so I wasn’t exactly surprised she was impressed by it. “Elise, honey,” she said, kissing my cheek. “I heard that Wanda had her babies, so I bought some presents. And some for Riley and Pietro too.”

“That’s really nice, mom,” I said, leading her inside. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. I just…” She didn’t finish her sentence but I knew what she was going to say. She really wanted to meet them.

I led her past the stairs and around the corner to the dining table where Tony and Steve were standing. Tony fidgeted on his feet as Steve stood with his hands behind his back. “Mom, this is Tony and Steve,” I said. “Steve, Tony, this is my mom, Jennifer.”

“Yes, of course,” mom said, as Steve stepped forward to shake her hand. “I know you both.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jennifer,” Steve said, shaking her hand.

“Please, it’s Jenny,” mom said.

“Jenny,” he said with a nod. “Take a seat.”

Mom sat down and Steve and I sat near her. Tony sat a little further away on the other side of me.

“Have I met everyone now?” Mom asked.

“Yeah, these are the last two,” I said. “To be brutally honest with you mom, I held back with them because I figured if you were lying to me, these were the two you were using me to get to.”

She frowned and nodded. The information obviously hurt but she seemed to understand. “I get it. I’m glad you’re trusting me more.”

“While we’re all being brutally honest,” Tony said. “Not all of us wanted you to get involved in her life.”

She nodded again. “I know. And I might deserve that,” she said. “But I am grateful that I was given a chance. And I know you were involved with setting me up in the city and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you for that.”

“So if I was to offer you a million dollars to leave us alone?” Tony asked.

Mom looked at him like she’d been hit by a truck. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish as she tried to grasp the full gravity of what he’d just said.

“I’m completely serious,” Tony said, pulling out his checkbook. “A million not enough? Five? Will five do it? How about ten?" He started to scribble out on his checkbook. "I’ll tell you what Mrs. Cooper, I’ll sign this and write your name right here, and you can fill in exactly the amount you think your daughter is worth. Because that’s what you wanted right? For her to marry rich and you and your husband could get your big fat dowry right? Well, she did just like you wanted. She got the richest. If my money isn’t good enough, maybe we can dip into the Asgardian pot.”

Mom looked at me in shock. “Is this what you want, Elise?”

I could feel myself tearing up and I wasn’t sure exactly what factor of what was happening right now was affecting me the most. Tony’s aggressive overprotectiveness or the fact I was a little worried that my mom would take it. Over the past few months, the thread that joined me to her had gotten thicker and brighter. The thought of her ruining all that by picking up the check hurt.

“Of course not,” I said.

“If it’s hurting you, I can leave you alone,” mom said. “I’ve hurt you enough. I don’t want the money. I want you to be okay.”

I started crying and Tony took the blank check and tore it into pieces. “That’s what I was hoping to hear.”

“Did you have to be so dramatic?” Steve scolded as he pulled me close and rubbed my back.

“Sorry, honey. I just wanted you to be sure,” he said.

I shook my head and my mom moved closer and took my hand. I looked into her eyes and she looked back at me seriously. “Elise, I am sorry for standing by so passively while your father hurt you the way he did. For raising you to believe you’d ever done anything to deserve it and that all you could expect in life was more of the same. I’m sorry it took me so long to accept your sexuality. If I could go back and change things I would. But I’m so proud of you. I’m proud of everything you’ve done. I might not understand it all, but you have a beautiful family that makes you happy and that is the least you deserve.”

I was weeping openly by the time she was done and launched myself into her arms. She held me close. The way I held Riley or Pietro when they were upset. The way moms are supposed to hold their daughters. The way I’d wish she’d hold me back when my father would hurt me. I didn’t feel resentful though. I felt grateful that after all this, I’d finally become the priority. I felt grateful that I had a chance to have my mom be my mom.

“FRIDAY?” I said, keeping my head buried in my mom’s neck. “Can you…?”

“Of course, Doctor Cooper,” she replied.

“Alright. How about we eat?” Steve said, rubbing my back. “Elise had very specific ideas about what morning tea was.”

“Right,” mom said, rubbing my back and letting me gently pull away from her embrace. “Of course. So tell me about the new babies.”

“They are precious,” Steve said. “The tiniest little things. Our other two were more premature, but they were bigger, I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t think so, Steve,” I giggled. “You’re just used to the bruiser that Riley has become.”

“Well whatever the case, they are so small they can each fit in the palm of Thor’s hand,” Steve said.

The elevator dinged and a moment later Clint appeared around the corner holding both Riley and Pietro’s hands. Mom turned in her chair and gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Is this… are they?”

“Mom,” I said, getting up and waving Clint over. “This is Pietro and Riley.”

She got down on one knee in front of them. “Hello, little ones, look at you,” she said, touching their faces. “Oh my goodness, you have your mother’s eyes.”

Riley looked up at Clint. “Who’s dis?”

“That’s your grandma,” Clint said, as mom started laughing.

“We don’t dot a gwandma,” Pietro said, eyeing his grandmother suspiciously.

“I’ve been away. I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’m back now. I have presents.”

“Pwesents?” Pietro asked.

“Is dat cake?” Riley added, pointing at the table.

Mom laughed as Clint helped her back up. “You come open your presents and have some cake. I really want to hear all about you both.”

They ran over to the table excitedly and climbed up on the chairs. Mom picked up the present bags by her chair and looked at me, tears pricking her eyes. “Thank you, Elise,” she said quietly.

“You’re welcome,” I said. “If you would like we can go see Rose and Sarah on your way out.”

“I would love that,” she said. “Thank you.” She turned back to the kids and gave them the gift bags. "I wasn’t sure what your favorite things were. So I hope you like what I got you. You’ll have to show me the kinds of things you like best though.”

The kids began opening their presents and mom got them each a cupcake and some milk and gave it to them. I let FRIDAY know the others could come up if they wanted. Steve wrapped his arm around me as I watched my mom fussing over the kids. “Is this how you hoped it might be?” He whispered.

I nodded and turned, cuddling into him. “Better,” I said.

“Well, sweetheart,” he replied. “You deserve it. I hope you know that.”

I nodded, and for once, the trauma of my past didn’t raise its head to tell me otherwise. This time, I completely believed that I did.

// NEXT

96 notes · View notes

sophieakatz · 3 years

Text

Thursday Thoughts: Marvel What If’s Women Problem

Welcome back to the feminist rant!

I really didn’t intend to spend three weeks in a row writing about the Marvel animated series What If…? But I wanted to see this through.

Last week we talked about this show’s abundant use of the “fridged woman” trope. However, a show doesn’t need to kill its female characters in order to fail them.

Remember that time I made up a feminist movie test? I call it the “Want Test.” You can read the full explanation here, but here’s the summary:

This test requires that a film (or, in this case, an episode of a TV show) has at least one named female character. After watching the show, ask, “Does what the named female character want matter to the plot?” Then, score the movie based on the answer to this question.

If the answer is “Yes, what the named female character wants matters to the plot,” then give the movie a checkmark!”

If the answer is “Yes, AND this is true of multiple named female characters,” then the movie gets a check-plus. If these characters help each other get what they want, the movie gets a check-double-plus!

If the answer is “Yes, BUT her wants are an obstacle to a male character’s goal,” then the movie gets a check-minus. The woman may matter to the plot, but her importance is centered on her relationship to a male character and how much he matters to the plot. Often movies with a check-minus involve a male protagonist actively trying to stop a female character from getting what she wants; while she has an impact on the world around her, the movie isn’t rooting for the woman.

If the answer is “No, what she wants doesn’t matter,” then the movie fails the test. Give it a minus.

Okay, now let’s talk about Marvel What If. Once again, there are spoilers for the first seven episodes of this show below the cut, and some discussion of the plot points in the movies these episodes are based on.

When I compare the first seven episodes of What If to the Want Test, they each barely scrape their way to a check-minus (though after my rant last week, I’m tempted to edit my test so that a show that fridges a female character automatically fails). In summary, it does not matter what most of the named female characters want. Each episode has a single woman whose wants do affect the plot, but what she wants is always some kind of obstacle to a male character’s goal. Even when the women of What If survive the episode, the male characters’ feelings are the primary engine of the show.

As I neared the end of Episode Six, “What If… Killmonger Rescued Tony Stark?” I said to myself, “Well, at least Pepper and Shuri aren’t dead.” But then, in the last minute of the episode, Shuri and Pepper meet and state their intent to take down Killmonger. And I said to myself, “Okay, so why didn’t we get THAT episode?”

Sure, it’s cool to see two smart girls teaming up, but they don’t get to do anything! This episode repeatedly puts Pepper and Shuri down. Every time they express suspicion of Killmonger, someone contradicts them. What they want does not matter. They are obstacles to the men, and they are easily pushed aside, and so all they can do is stand in the background and watch while the boys run around and play war games.

If your named female characters only matter in the last scene of the show, then they don’t really matter. This episode wasn’t about the women at all. It was about the men killing each other and making each other sad.

I really don’t want to say much about the seventh episode, “What If… Thor Were an Only Child?”

What I will say is, “Why, why, WHY is Dr. Jane Foster more concerned about hurting the hot guy’s feelings than she is about how the hot guy is about to cause the end of the world?”

And I will also say, “Why does Captain Marvel need to be nice to Thor at the end of the episode after he spent the entire episode being a jackass to her?”

And I will end this section of the blog post by saying, “Frigga deserves so much better than any man in her family has ever given her.”

The second episode of this show, “What If… T’Challa Became a Star-Lord?” might be my favorite episode. Mainly because it’s the only one I genuinely liked while I was watching it. It was fun, and I was happy to hear Chadwick Boseman’s voice one more time. Overall, it’s a lovely tribute to both the actor and his character.

But, for me, liking this episode required ignoring a big problem: Nebula and Thanos’s relationship.

We don’t know exactly when in this timeline T’Challa met Thanos and convinced him to give up on the “murder half the universe” plan. But we do know that even before Thanos collected the Infinity Stones, he was roaming the universe slaughtering millions. We know he committed genocide against Gamora’s people the day he “adopted” her, and it’s safe to assume he did the same to Nebula’s. We know that he raised Gamora and Nebula to fight each other, and every time Nebula lost a fight, he replaced a part of her body with cybernetics, constantly torturing her.

What If never tells us that that Thanos did not abuse his daughters. It never tells us that he did not slaughter millions, including his daughters’ birth families. But it does tell us that Thanos is Nebula’s father. And he wouldn’t be her father if he hadn’t been roaming the universe killing people.

In this episode, we see an adult Nebula who seems to think her dad is annoying, but any feelings she might have about how genuinely terrible he is – feelings she was freely willing to admit in the Guardians of the Galaxy movies – go completely unmentioned.

Thanos and Nebula’s relationship is played for laughs, like they just need to get over their past and hug it out. That bothers me a lot. It’s like the show is saying that Nebula’s pain doesn’t matter. What matters is that Thanos is sad she doesn’t want to hang out with him.

I should also point out that in Avengers: Infinity War, Gamora gets fridged. Her feelings are unimportant to the plot; her stated desire to die before she can be used as a part of Thanos’s plot is mocked and discarded. When she is murdered, the moment of her death is all about how it would hurt Thanos to kill her. Gamora’s death also serves as motivation for Peter Quill to sabotage the other heroes’ efforts to stop Thanos.

Gamora is nowhere to be seen in this episode of What If. The women that Thanos abused really don’t matter here at all.

I’ve been putting off talking about this show’s pilot episode, “What If… Captain Carter Were the First Avenger?” This episode was… You know, it was fun, in a very similar way to how the Star Lord T’Challa episode was fun. I can’t lie and say I didn’t like seeing super buff Peggy Carter beat the crap out of Nazis. That was a lot of fun.

But the thing I couldn’t stop thinking while watching was, “This isn’t Peggy’s story. It’s Steve’s!”

Peggy Carter may have gotten the super serum in this reality, but Steve Rogers is still the main driving force of the plot. Peggy goes to Germany to save Steve’s best friend. She works with Steve’s allies, the Howling Commandoes, instead of finding her own. Steve’s issues and emotions are central to everything Peggy does; she may say in dialogue that she wants to end the war, but what we see is that Steve is her motivation. In fact, he’s everyone’s motivation – in the scene where Peggy, Bucky, Howard, and the Howling Commandoes decide to go take down Red Skull, they all go around the table and say that they’re doing it “for Steve.” Not because ending the war is the right thing to do, not because they care about the millions of people murdered and tortured by the Nazis – but because they care about Steve.

When I first heard about this show, I thought that Steve was going to die, and that would be why Captain Carter would exist. The interesting/ironic thing here is that the episode pokes at the idea of fridging Steve, but it doesn’t quite have the guts to go through with it. Everyone thinks that Steve died on the train, but then they find him in Red Skull’s castle, and he’s totally fine! Killing off Captain America would have been an interesting, powerful new direction to take the story. But this episode doesn’t seem interested in taking new directions. It seems more interested in showing how things would stay the same even if Steve didn’t get the serum, even if Peggy switched careers from secret agent to superhero, even if Bucky never became the Winter Soldier, even if Red Skull decided to open a portal to tentacle hell. Things just stay the same.

And I don’t get the point of presenting us with a show where there are “endless possibilities” if things are just going to stay the same. If Peggy Carter will still be a side character in Steve Roger’s story. If Hank Pym’s grief still matters more than Janet and Hope Van Dyne’s lives. If Thanos will still never be held accountable for abusing Gamora and Nebula. If Doctor Strange is still an arrogant jackass. If the only realities we see are ones where men get to act and feel, and women get to be plot devices.

The truth is that the Watcher just isn’t interested in showing us realities where women live and thrive in their own right. For all its emphasis on how different decisions can cause dramatic changes to reality, the creators of What If have no real investment in making different decisions in how they portray female characters. It’s just more of the same.

I’m done thinking about this show. Let’s talk about something else next week, okay?

Be good to yourself, be kind to each other, and you’ll hear from me again soon!

16 notes · View notes

ferret-not-microwave · 3 years

Text

Les Amis Modern AU: What They Wish Others Believed About Them (Part 5)

[I kind of wrote this in response to some general trends in characterising the Amis. There are some stereotypes which I'm not quite comfortable with.]

[Hey, y'all! I'm so sorry for not posting this series for a long time, I was flattened for the past 12 days by COVID-19. We have Cosette and Marius today, and I'm so glad that I am feeling better enough to write about them. Cheerio!]

Cosette:

• Is fed up of being considered dainty, fragile, weak and excessively nice, a bit of a pushover. She is anything but. Living with crappy foster parents don't really let you do that. She can stand up against bullshit with biting sarcasm if necessary. It's just that Cosette doesn't rise to the bait very easily, because she has trained herself to ignore battles which don't need her attention. But that doesn't mean that she needs to be protected all the time.

• Is sick of having to relate her childhood traumas in order to not be judged as being a privileged airhead. Cosette likes buying nice things. She likes fashion, and she has some habits from Catholic school, still. She spends a lot of money on her friends and loved ones. She is sunshiney and injects bougie humour and fun into meetings. That doesn't mean that she knows nothing about the shitty world, and that she doesn't actively try to make ethical choices in her consumer behaviour and social commitments. She really dislikes the "Ohhhhh" moment coming from someone judging her for her privilege when someone tells her story to them. Why presume that people are shitty for no reason, damnit?

• Is sick of being mistaken as straight. On one memorable Pride, she was called "straight passing". She dislikes the term immensely. She thinks that people do not have the liberty to immediately assume that she is heterosexual because Marius is her partner. Similarly, people do not get to assume her sexuality because she presents stereotypically femme.

• She feels insecure and uncomfortable when people fix too much attention on her in relation to someone else, as if to scrutinize her. It happened twice amongst the Amis, once when Marius introduced her as his crush for the first time, and once when they came to know that she and Eponine knew each other since childhood, and that Eponine's parents were her abusive foster parents. She likes it better if she were befriended for being herself.

• She feels a little frustrated that people didn't get her conflicting feelings towards Eponine. People immediately assumed that she forgave and forgot everything Eponine had done or said when they were children, in her "characteristically sweet way". Actually, the first time she saw Eponine, her fear reared its ugly head again and she almost ran out of the Musain. There was much dancing around Eponine (who seemed worn out and super uncomfortable as well) and it is only with Marius and Courfeyrac's help that Cosette could start a conversion with Eponine. She did it not be particularly forgiving (though she eventually forgave her anyway), but because she needed to leave her emotional baggage behind and move on.

• A large part of Cosette's forgiveness towards Eponine was fuelled by the knowledge of Eponine's own abuse at her parents' hands. As someone who had faced quite a bit of the same abuse, she needed to put her foot down. Cosette was extremely angry about it, and her anger made sure that Eponine could separate from her parents faster, and eventually get custody of her siblings.

• She hates, hates, hates it when people remind her that she's lucky to get an adoptive father like Valjean particularly after she has a row with him. Just because her foster parents were shitty doesn't mean that she cannot speak against some of Valjeans imperfections! And children often disagree with their parents. She doesn't need to be dampened with the idea that she should basically think Valjean to be perfect because of her past. She is fiercely loyal to Valjean, and doesn't need anyone to test that.

• Cosette is protective of Marius. No one gets to mow Marius over with judgements and snide comments. In fact, Marius found himself being not so much the butt of jokes anymore after Cosette teaches him to stand up for himself. At the same time, Cosette does not helicopter parent Marius. She does tease him within limits, and does not usually interfere when he has disagreements with the Amis. It is a fine balance which does exhaust her sometimes.

• Cosette can be mischievous, even impish. She can land punches (whether they hurt or not doesn't matter), ace paintball/mudslinging matches, play the best pranks on April Fool's Day and curse like a sailor if needed. She is especially proud of the wide-eyed look she still gets from some of the Amis at her antics. She can also get people out of trouble faster than you can say "bail".

Marius:

• Marius feels scared of being judged. It is really, really difficult to understand your own privilege when you come from a super rich, super bigoted family (read grandfather). He has taken lots of embarrassing knocks and call-outs every day till now, but he is learning, and learning fast. The Amis know, and for them he isn't some peripheral person anymore, but an integral part. But sometimes he wakes up with nightmares of being kicked out as a wokeboi and a fraud by the whole group. He often stumbles over his words because he panics that maybe what he is trying to say is problematic. It takes him months to take any initiative in the Amis because he suffers from imposter syndrome all the time.

• Marius hid all information about his favourites (he loves strawberry rosé macarons and silver needle tea, for instance) because he thought that he would be judged as a rich brat. Funnily, it was Ferre who had figured these out and was the first Amis to give him a small tea chest and a box of macarons as a birthday gift (followed closely by Courf and Jehan with a huge birthday party). It took time for Marius to understand that just because he got a bit panned for his political opinions the first time, it doesn't mean that the Amis hate him.

• Quite unlike popular belief, Marius and Ferre do get along very well. They share a lot of niche interests (poring over etymology dictionaries and having a love of museums and trivia nights). They did discuss that first "to be free" moment, and Marius had placed his request to be given more chances to undo his problematic stances. (There was also another "to be free" moment that had left Ferre stunned, but it's a them thing). It hurts Marius when people immediately think that he's probably annoying Ferre when they hang out.

• Marius is not stupid. Please. The whole idea people have that he is stupid because of his awkwardness and shyness is plain mean at times. No, he doesn't need to be talked to slowly, like talking to a child. Whenever he has the courage, he brings up a lot of valid points in Musain meetings. He is extremely resourceful in handling money and talks with boring rich people, and fundraisers have never been better without him. He is juggling a double Masters degree with internships and volunteer services, and picks up languages at the drop of a hat (including Elvish).

• Marius has also had that dangerous phase when, in a bid to be as radical as possible, he fell into trouble way too many times. Even the most even-tempered of them all (read Jehan) has outright cried in exasperation on finding Marius glaring at a policeman in a protest, promising to burn the place down with a flare if they didn't back off from hitting protestors. Marius has similarly taken punches and hits, and there was a time when Joly would hover around him to administer first aid as quickly as possible. It took Enj and R a whole day to explain to him the merits of self-preservation and that revolution today does not necessarily involve a militant loss of life.

• Marius has also that phase when he drove a college sophomore to tears with his radical speech. Aka attacking the heck out of the kid's problematic Facebook post. Cosette had to give him a talk. Marius is learning about how to be a zealous but kind activist every day.

#marius pontmercy #cosette #les miz #les amis #les mis #les miserables #marius and cosette are such sweethearts #marius is an underrated noodle boi #modern au #les mis as #ferret's freshly microwaved post

34 notes · View notes

morannon · 3 years

Text

Re: An Unwilling Apprentice

Summary: I literally don't give two shits that this piece of poor and inconsistent writing exists because it possesses nothing that manages to undo what hundreds of pages of material have previously convincingly established.

Here's why I hate it:

Star Wars canon is generally sloppy at best and because they flop around making meaningless changes they often undo a great deal of what they have managed to get right originally. This here is no different unfortunately and adds absolutely nothing consequential to Maul's backstory while managing to contradict material that's already incuded into DLF canon. Honestly it's like George Mann couldn't have been bothered to google any of it.

So in An Unwilling Apprentice we learn that uh... Maul is no longer a baby and is conscious of being given away by his "mother". Savage is known to be his older brother in DLF canon so I guess Feral no longer exists...? Or is it Savage that got the boot? Also Talzin gives Maul away for the vague chance of someday being Palpatine's acolyte/apprentice. And let's be clear, not with the knowledge that Palpatine himself will train him. As far as she is aware, she's giving him to someone in the village (Who apparently isn't a Nightbrother or Dathomirian of any kind and just randomly lives on Dathomir? Uh, ok I guess). Even after witnessing Maul being terribly abused by this new "guardian" she told him to never show his face to her again. And although he is at the beginning of the story compared to his brother who was weak in the Force then halfway through the story it's suddenly a shock he has Force abilities that *no one knew about*. Instead of people being aware of his supposed extraordinary strength in the Force as a toddler he is now turned into Harry Potter.

And this story simutaneously insists that Maul is "a child", but also that he explicitly understands Sidious' plans and therefore steps forward in the arena, knowing that Sidious is looking for an apprentice. So it's like they're trying to make him be understood as a child, but simultaneously make him carry the responsibility for what happened to him at every step. Wow, absolutely disgusting.

Once Maul kills his abusers in front of everyone Talzin looks at him "appalled" by his actions. And yet when Sidious picks Maul instead of Talzin as his apprentice, Maul knows Talzin feels nothing for him but the need for vengeance.

So basically the story can't even stay consistent within itself within these few pages. First it can't really establish what it says in the title, because it's written so Maul knowingly seeks to prove himself, once he becomes aware of what's happening. And honestly the whole Talzin as his mother was written so unconvincingly it's as if the author himself vehemently supports the original version himself and wants people to think this story is a bad joke. (Which it is.)

Things already fell apart when they tried to exchange Kycina with Talzin, while not rewriting the rest of Maul's backstory to match the change. It never worked because of the main thing that doesn't add up in the changed version: motivation and stakes.

It's not like the original version is told in great detail, but it's convincing even if only for what we know to be true from other supporting sources. Kycina gives up her son because it's Maul's best and maybe only chance of survival. Maul is a Nightbrother, his father was killed as per tradition before he was born and the same fate would await him if he ever fathered any children of his own. Outside of that he would have served the purposes of a slave and fighter. Which Kycina is shown to acknowledge, especially as she knows it's a fate that will await Maul's twin.

It's obvious Kycina didn't know what she was risking by offering Maul up to Palpatine in particular, as the latter would not be revealed as Sidious for decades to come, as even the most powerful Jedi couldn't detect him as a Sith lord.

With the knowledge she had in that moment, from Kycina's POV it made every sense to offer the child to Palpatine for the sake of her child's chances of survival. She wasn't giving away any child, but one that was exceptionally strong in the Force. This means that she would have sought out another Force user who could offer him guidance in harnessing his powers, but also made it a time-sensitive matter as she wouldn't have been able to keep Talzin from detecting him.

Conclusion: I reject this story in its entirety. It not only contradicts itself, but DLF would have to scrap the entire TCW series to make this plausible from a continuity perspective. Which, let's face it they don't care about much.

#Maul #Darth Maul #(i really hate using this tag)#but i guess it's the one most people follow...#An Unwilling Apprentice

18 notes · View notes

something-in-the-seas · 3 years

Note

Sorry to bother once again, (I had the Bioshock Infinite bullshit centrism ask and the Burial at Sea ask) but I’m replaying Bioshock 2 again as well and I can’t help but think...why does this one in particular have such a hardcore fan base? Returning to Rapture just isn’t very thrilling whatsoever, and the level design as well as even the graphic design of ads and art in the world is an enormous downgrade from the first game. Sure, the gameplay was good for 2008, but it has aged pretty badly a few things aside (the improved hacking creates great moments of tension). The color palette of the game goes from brown to dark golds, and the splicers just aren’t as engaging either. The world building and characters just feel incredibly expository and unnecessary. Sophia Lamb and collectivism just feels like cliche cult writing and not as wholly dangerous as objectivism/anarcho-capitalism and also feels like at times it’s just trying to do a critique of left wing politics and it doesn’t work. I understand Rapture is pretty much a post apocalyptic society and is just degrading rapidly, but the world just isn’t as immersive as the first and feels like a cheap imitation. Minerva’s Den really feels like the saving grace of this game, and it’s story is much better, but it is unfortunately relegated to being DLC. People complain about Bioshock Infinite’s retcons, but this entire game feels like it doesn’t have actual canonical parity to the first game and wholly unnecessary. I understand that 2k gave devs a VERY limited amount of time (like maybe a year and a half) and they got screwed over and that contributes to a lot of the shortcomings, but I just don’t understand why people in the OG fandom love it. Levine sucks, but even him and that team got shafted by 2k and forced to streamline a lot of the content they had originally made for Infinite(I was obsessed with the development of Infinite, and they brought in Gears of War and Call of Duty managers to streamline everything for the mainstream gamers from what I remember) Knowing this...why should Levine or that team consider Bioshock 2 a canon entry to the world they created? Through this lens I almost understand why Levine and that development team basically broke that universe with Burial at Sea, quite possibly knowing that studio would be dissolved and knowing 2k(a horrendous company tbh) would want to continue using the brand name and world of Rapture for a thing that team worked on for so long. As far as the Bioshock Rapture novel itself and canon...the novel itself doesn’t take a lot of the canonical events in Bioshock 1 into consideration and a lot of the prose just feels flat :/

Well, as a fan of Bioshock 2, I guess I’ll shed some insight as to why it has such a devoted fan base and why people have really turned around on the game in recent years. The game isn’t everybody’s cup of tea, and Minerva’s Den is fantastic, but it holds a special place in my heart.

Bioshock 2 absolutely still has the best game play in the series. Compared to the original Bioshock, which does feel a bit clunky, and Infinite, which doesn’t even have a weapon wheel, Bioshock 2 takes the combat system introduced in the first game and significantly improves it. Dual wielding plasmids and weapons is a game changer, you’re able to efficiently swap between the two without the wait time of pulling out your weapon. There’s a reason why people want the new game to have 2’s style of combat. Compared to Infinite’s shooting gallery style game play, it still favors exploration like the first but also experimentation when it comes to using your plasmids.

2’s designs and color pallets can still be absolutely gorgeous. It’s been eight years since Bioshock, so things are going to be rusted and in terrible shape. The game also focuses on the poorest parts of Rapture compared to the original game, which has you go to the richest neighborhoods and entertainment centers. Pauper’s Drop isn’t going to be as pretty as Arcadia or Fort Frolic.

Compared to Infinite, which is just twist after twist to try to out do the iconic WYK twist in Bioshock, 2’s story is simple: you’re just a dad trying to save your daughter. However, it does what Infinite cannot and gives you freedom. You’re able to kill or walk away and it changes the story. The characters you meet are less way expository than the ones in Infinite, who just appear to shed some backstory on Booker or Elizabeth and then die. Sparing Slate doesn’t matter, but sparing Grace does.

Grace, for example, is able to recognize Delta’s humanity and turn away from Lamb’s cult because her love for Eleanor is stronger than her fear of Lamb. As you read her audio diaries, you find out she’s an incredibly tragic character who isn’t a bad person, the world has just hurt her. Showing compassion to Grace is something she’ll never forget, and while Stanley and Gil are never seen again, I think if the team had more time, they would have included their responses. It’s implied through the statues in Persephone, though, that Delta sparing Stanley gets him to finally get his shit together and Gil is able to fight back against Alex the Great. The biggest twist 2 comes from Sinclair not being your Judas like Atlas was, even though the game hints at this, but he selflessly sacrifices himself for you and Eleanor because he’s grown to care about you.

Lamb is a controversial villain, but I think she’s miles better than Comstock when it comes to writing. She’s a terrifying, powerful figure who doesn’t rely on sexualization to get what she wants. She’s very intelligent, she runs circles around Ryan and Fontaine. Her ideals aren’t exactly terrible and she started off wanting to do the right thing, but she emotionally manipulates and gaslights people around her to do what she wants. She takes advantage of others and at the end doesn’t care about her “family.” They’re a means to an end for her, the end being Eleanor becoming her “utopian.” She’s emotionally and physically abusive to Eleanor and doesn’t respect her autonomy.

I see Bioshock 2 as less of a criticism of leftism, but more of a criticism on cults and organized religions in general. Unlike the original Bioshock, which has references to Judaism because the majority of the characters are Jewish, 2 has a lot of references to Christianity. A lot of people have a hard time understanding what exactly Lamb believes, but if you put in perspective the similarities The Rapture Family has to the Catholic Church, than things make a lot more sense. Lamb and her followers commit cruel acts under their “religion,” Delta commits good acts because it’s the right thing to do.

2 doesn’t feel very connected to the other games, though it should really with Infinite given the glaring similarities between the two. It feels like it’s own story and that works with me. There are huge stakes with Lamb possibly destroying the world if she wins, but it also has the sweetest father-daughter relationship in gaming. You have Mark Meltzer, who goes through hell and back to find Cindy and gives up his life for her, and you have Delta and Eleanor. There’s no animosity, there’s no tension, they just love each other unconditionally. Delta’s love for Eleanor is so powerful that a whole city full of cultish splicers and Big Sisters just couldn’t stop him.

There’s definitely things in 2 that are problematic like the homophobic brute splicers, but it’s not just my favorite of the trilogy, it’s my favorite game of all time. I love Bioshock 2. I love Bioshock 2 because it doesn’t try to be more than what it is. You’re a dad who loves your daughter, and she loves you. When I first played Burial at Sea, I was so glum that I played Minerva’s Den and Bioshock 2 and I felt so much better with this being the chronological end of the series (for now). Also the Little Sisters are adorable and the highlight of the game, they have so much personality now.

It’d actually break my heart if 2K actually listened to Ken and made it not canon, it’s not his decision to make. Thankfully, though, it looks like we’re getting more 2 and Eleanor content which is awesome. I can’t wait to see an adult Eleanor on next gen graphics in her prime showing off why she’s the GOAT of the OG series.

#bioshock #bioshock 2 #augustus sinclair #subject delta #eleanor lamb #sofia lamb #this game definitely isn’t for everyone but I love it #but a lot of people who hated on it when infinite was released are coming around #it’s a legit good game just not as grandiose as 1 and infinite #but being so grandiose hurts those games massively #after Ryan died the plot for 1 nose dives and infinite’s ending is an absolute mess #2 stays consistently good same with Minerva’s den

92 notes · View notes

tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 4 years

Text

Not Perfect (JJ Maybank x reader) pt. 5

Summary: JJ Maybank is the one who makes sure your kook lawn is immaculate. Your family may look perfect just like the lawn from someone looking from the outside in, but it turns out you and JJ have more in common than you thought.

*Warning!! : There is talk of abuse through out this story and some abuse in this fic, read at your own risk

Masterlist: Not Perfect *completed

A/N: Well, this is the last chapter :( It’s short and I’m sorry it took so long to write it. I honestly couldn’t find the motivation to finish it.

However, I hope you guys would read the Rudy Pankow x reader that I posted earlier because I think I’ll be turning that into a little mini series! Read it and comment what you think!

Here is the link to that fic ----> Here

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: OPEN {CLOSED}

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

“You were with that pogue weren’t you?!” Your dad screams at you. You were backed against the wall with his hand wrapped around your throat. He’d already hit you twice, opening your wounds up again. The Cameron’s had left just moments ago. You knew this would happen.

“Y-yes sir.” Better to tell the truth than lie.

He raises his hand at you, ready to leave more bruises on your face.

“People know you did this to me!” You quickly yell out, “they know what you do to me..”

Your father stops as he looks down at you in shock, his eyes wide and his grip loosening on your throat. You slowly sink to a floor in a sob.

He yells out for your mother, “Pack your things. We’re leaving!”

Your father was in panic mode. This was just like the place you lived before. You’d now pack your things and find a new place to live. Somewhere people didn’t know your story.

The house was a wreck as he hired people to pack and move things into a moving van. You knew your room would be next. You grabbed only the things you needed and threw them in a backpack. You slowly rose your window and glanced back at your room once more. This would be last time you’d ever see this room again. You jumped from your roof and made a break for the end of the driveway, ready to begin a new life.

“dude. We have to do something..” JJ paces the floor in John B’s house, “He’s.. he’s probably already..” He gulps down the thought of your father harming you or worse. He turns his attention to John B and the rest of the pogues.

“JJ what do you expect us to do? We can’t just show up there. He’ll have us all arrested.” Kie reasons.

“Kie’s right. The police are on his payroll.” Pope adds.

“Then I’ll go.” JJ says as he grabs his bag, “I’ll go there.”

“There’s not a need.” John B says.

“Why?” JJ says looking up at John B.

“Because she’s standing right behind you.” John B says pointing over JJ’s shoulder.

You’d walked in with your backpack on your back.

JJ turns around to see you standing there and he felt like a weight had been lifted. You were okay. He rushed to you and pulled you into a hug, “Thank god. You’re okay.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m okay.” You laughed a little and he pulled away to look at you, wondering what you mean by that. He could tell your wounds had opened back up but other than that, no other new injuries that he could see.

“My dad knows someone knows what he does to me. He’s in a panic and has packed up our whole house. We’re leaving.” You shake your head.

“B-but you can’t. Y/n, you can’t go with him.” JJ says, “I can’t protect you.”

You pull your backpack off your back and set it on the couch, hands on your hips, “That’s why I’m not going with him. I need your help getting off the island.”

Kie stands behind you and clips at your hair. She’d dyed your hair the opposite color that it was and was now clipping off as much as she could. You wouldn’t look like the same person after she was done with you. You would be taking the earliest ferry and would get off the island and head out west for a new life. That was your plan.

After Kie had finished, you stepped out of the bathroom and did a twirl, flipping your hair, “Well, what do you guys think of my new look?”

JJ looks up at you and gives you the up down, “You don’t even look the same person.. but you look good.” He clears his throat.

You blush and nod, “The ferry leaves soon.. I should head out.”

JJ looks at the pogues and motions them out, leaving you and JJ standing there. “I’m sad to see you go..” he says as he walks over to you.

You give a small smile, “I’m sad that I have to go. But I just have to hide out until I’m 18, then I’ll be safe and on my own.”

His eyes scan over your face, “Call me when you arrive somewhere safe?”

“Of course..” You nibble on your lip and go to turn around to head out to the door, but then turn back around to face JJ, “come with me.”

“What?”

“Come with me.” You take a step toward him, “Come out west with me. We can get away from our abusive father’s.. We could live a normal life.”

His eyes dart to the front door where just outside was the pogues, his best friends. He could never leave them. Could he? “My life.. it’s here though. I can’t just up and leave.”

Your shoulder slump in disappointment, “I understand.” You give him a small smile.

“I mean.. I’d love too, but I just can’t.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” You lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, “I should get going or I’ll miss my ferry.”

He watches as you turn away from him, your eyes full of tears. He knows you’re disappointed that he wouldn’t go with you, but he couldn’t leave his friends who are really his family, like that. He watches as you close the door behind you, heading toward a new life that he’d always dreamed of.

You find your place on the ferry and stand at the railing. You knew your parents would have found your note by now, along with the cellphone given. You explained in the note you were leaving, never to be seen again and that there was proof of your abuse. If they were to come after you, you’d exploit the family and destroy your father. You knew they’d much rather let you go on your own than be ruined. You’d stepped onto the ferry a brand-new woman, with only a backpack that contained a few clothes and wads of cash, which you’d happily stolen from your father’s safe.

It was early in the morning when you’d arrived on the ferry and you could see the island beginning to wake up from your spot on the ferry. Cars driving by, people walking down the sidewalks or riding their bikes.

“I promised that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

You turned around and standing in front of you was JJ Maybank himself, a book bag slung over his shoulder.

“And I’m keeping my promise.” He steps toward you and drops his bag at your feet. “Plus, I didn’t get a chance to do this.” He whispers as he cups your cheeks in his hands and brings his lips to yours.

The End

All my works tag list: @blossomreed

Obx taglist: @poguestyleskye , @alexa-playafricabytoto , @write-from-the-heart , @prejudic3 , @turtlee-says-rawr , @outrbank , @k-k0129 , @annedub , @rockyyc77 , @ilovejjmaybank , @treestarrrrrrrr , @thedarkqueenofavalon , @write-from-the-heart , @eclecticpuppyhollywoodhumanoid , @lasnaro , @kiarasgold , @normatural , @kaylinfayezink , @lordsagittarius , @moose-squirrel-asstiel , @thelovelydreamer17 , @chasefreakinstokes , @fanficscuziranout , @diverrdown , @tregua-oca , @junkiemuppettxx , @afterglowsb-tch13 , @hardyxlove , @cinnamon-roll-seth

JJ Maybank taglist: @thatweirdblonde , @saltwatercowb0y , @popcrone818 , @thee-sex , @coni-martina , @pm-my-hubbies , @timotaychalabae , @katiaw2 , @maybebanks , @sataninsatin , @obx-beach , @fangirlvoice , @lolitstiana , @teamnick , @danicarosaline , @losers-club6 , @bananasfromtarget , @jasminesuperstar123456789 , @fratboystark , @notmcchkn ,

594 notes · View notes

6knotty6thotty6 · 3 years

Text

So a couple of months ago, I saw a YouTube video that was an audio recording of season 5, episode 6 of Bojack Horseman, “Free Churro.” In the episode, the main character, Bojack Horseman, spends 20 minutes giving a eulogy at his mother’s funeral. There’s one big problem though, his mother was an abusive bitch. His eulogy is him trying to contemplate what she meant by her drying words, “I see you,” and whether or not she loved him. As someone who has a dead parent who was abusive, this is probably my favorite episode of any show ever for how much it helped me understand my feelings. The comments section is filled with people sharing their pain with their abusive families, but one comment stood out to me above all the others by how raw and relatable it was. This comment was by a YouTuber named Moonstruck. At the bottom of this post is a link to her channel. Please support her. After reading this, she deserves a million subscribers. Also please watch Bojack Horseman. (I corrected some of the grammatical errors to make it easier to read)

Disclaimer: Child abuse, bullying, trauma, and mental health:

Moonstruck:

This is a great monologue, but one part of it, in particular, really caught my attention was the 'grand gesture' bit.

When I was a kid, I read this book called "Chicken Soup for the Soul." There's a shitload of them. I don't remember which particular one it was. I hated the whole series because it's just someone profiting off a bunch of other people's stories rather than trying to write their own, in my opinion.

Anyway.

This one story that I remember, the ONLY one I remembered, was sent in by a little girl. She wrote about how her father never told her that he loved her. He never once, in her whole life, said the words "I love you." I don't remember her mom being mentioned, maybe she was dead; it doesn't matter. The point is her dad was basically an emotionless asshole. Well, one day, this girl gets sick. Really sick. Possibly on her deathbed sick. She wrote that one day she woke up to find a necklace sitting on her nightstand that had a pendant that looked like her dog. She said she held it to her heart and cried because that necklace said all the things her father never had.

I thought, "What a load of bullshit."

A cheap trinket doesn't make up for years and years of emotional neglect. Anyone can buy a thing and toss it your way. Hell, he didn't even hand it to her himself, just left it there for her to find if/when she woke up, then left her alone again to possibly die.

A lot of people say that actions speak louder than words, in cases like political protests and shit. While that's true, scenarios that this that girl are different. Gifts can never replace the words, "I love you."

When I was a kid, my father never told me he loved me. My mother didn't either, but she's a whole other kettle of fish. I would say 'my biological mother or father,' but I never got adopted ones, so who gives a shit. Anyway. My father was rarely around, and when he was, he just spent the entire time fighting with my mother and leaving again. He would do and say anything that could get him to spend less time in the house with her. With us. I can't blame him. If I could've left during those times, I would have. I tried more than once. I even earned the nickname 'runaway' from a family friend because of it.

I was told that I was worthless as early as I could understand words. I don't know what it is about me that set my mother off, but she HATED me. I was always told how expensive I was to keep alive and how I wasn't worth it. If I dared ask for anything, she would remind me how much she spent just to keep me from starving to death and that it was too much already. On the rare occasion I was given something, it was so she could use it as a threat. She was like, "Sure, you can have that toy horse since we got your sister a real one, but you better behave or we'll give it to her and let her break it." Or "Oh, fine, we can keep this dog as a FAMILY pet (NOT YOURS), but if you do something we don't like, we'll take it away and kill it."

Oh, yeah. I have a sister. She’s cut from the same cloth as our mother. I don't consider any of them family anymore. She was two years older than me. She was the "we should have stopped while we were ahead" kid. Anything she wanted, she got.

"Mom, can I have an award-winning horse and expensive dressage lessons?"

"Sure!"

"Mom, can I have a car?"

"No problem!"

"Mom, can you pay for my ballet lessons?"

"Absolutely!"

She was the golden child. The one that could do no wrong and wasn't a mistake. Even after she totaled her car, got arrested for an underage DUI, and got pregnant three times in high school, she was still the good one. I never even asked to go to school dances, parties, or go out with the one friend I had. My sister liked to see me in pain. She'd tell our mom that I did things just to get me in trouble. Whether it involved blaming me for things she did or fabricating stuff, she'd say whatever it took to get my mother to beat me while she watched and laughed. Oh, yeah, our mom was BIG on physical punishment. I've been whipped with everything from a riding crop, a wooden paddle, spoons, and especially belts. Anything that was close at hand when my mother got irritated, I've been hit with it.

At one point, my sister had three tall, beautiful show-worthy horses. I was allowed to keep a sickly old pony for all of a week before she was taken away, then I'd get called ungrateful for asking why we had to get rid of HER instead of one of the horses. Even though my mother said it cost too much to keep them all. With horses being obviously too rich for my blood, I asked for something cheaper, and for once, I got it. I was given a baby goat that one of our neighbors' goats had abandoned for being too weak, and they didn't have time to raise. I loved that goat. I bottle raised him, and named him Ben. He was my best friend for a while. When he grew up, he got so big that I was able to stand on his back to grab tree branches and pull them down so he could eat the leaves. I walked him on a leash like a dog every day. I loved him so much. My mother had me enter him in a show, and we won ninth place! I was thrilled to have something to show against my sister's collection of dressage show ribbons. I finally had proof that I could do something right! Sure, the prize money was taken away from me, but I still had Ben.

But Ben didn't come home with me after the show. It turns out he was sold to a slaughterhouse because that show was for meat goats. I didn't know until he was already gone. Of course, my mother punished me for being upset and even forced me to write a thank-you card to the people who bought his meat.

My mother was always like that. Anything I loved was used as a threat. I eventually accepted that loving anything was a waste of time. I learned to detach myself from my feelings, and I got really good at it. I can completely turn off my emotional reaction to anything. One time I had to put down one of the egg-laying hens at work that got too sick to save, and I felt nothing while bringing down the ax. When I lost out on a job that could have changed my life, I told myself how stupid it was to hope for anything good. Any positive emotion I felt got me punished, so I learned to feel nothing at all. To this day, I still have trouble feeling things, even when I want to. I'm taking pills now, and they help, sometimes.

I've had several suicide attempts. I keep a box of razor blades in my desk just to have them close. I got a tattoo of a heart with rainbows on my wrist. Partially for LGBT solidarity, but mostly to remind myself that there is still beauty in the world. I still struggle with wonder if I actually believe it or not.

I've tried so hard to be a good kid. I never partied, never drank, never smoked even when the chances were there, and I would have greatly loved anything to make the pain stop or even just dull it a little bit. I was in the gifted and talented program at school and was able to graduate at fifteen. For a while, I was sent to a children's home where I was passed around to many people I didn't know, including a clown who I may or may not have actually been related to, until I eventually wound up out here where I am now. It's all pretty hazy, and the details get scrambled.

It's been 10 years since I've had contact with my mother and sister. I can't even keep in touch with the one friend I had, even after I lived with her. She's tried to reach out to me, but I just… can't. I try, but I can't. Sometimes, I can almost pretend that my past wasn't real. It's just a hazy fog that isn't really there. I want to believe that if I don't allow something, or someone, who was part of that past, someone tangible and real, into my life again, then the fog will go away. This is why I can't do it. I know I'm a terrible friend. Ariel, if you're reading this, I'm sorry. You're better off without me in your life anyway.

I typed all of this out because sometimes, about fifty dollars or so shows up in my PayPal from my father's email address. I don't know if it's from him or from her using his email, but it doesn't matter either way. The point is I know my mother is the one sending the money.

I know my mother likes to think she's a good person. She went to church every Sunday, and probably still does. She organized a lot of church events and participated in every church function. I had to be an altar server for several years until I aged out of it and was in the choir. She kept going to that church even after the priest got drunk, called me many horrible names in front of everyone, and was revealed to be a pedophile that raped a little boy at gunpoint. She probably still goes to that same church and organizes things. She likes being in charge. She likes having people look at her and say, "That there is a good person."

But are you, though, Mom? Are you really a good person? Were you a good person when you hit me? When you lied to me? When you laughed with my sister about how much I got hurt for things I didn't do? Were you a good person every time you told me you'd kill my cat or leave my dog at the pound? Were you a good person when you sold Ben to be eaten, knowing that I loved him? Were you a good person when you made me read "A child called It" and told me that you'd start doing the things in that book to me if I didn't behave? Were you a good person every time you told my father I was a liar whenever I tried to tell him what you were doing to me? Were you a good person when you told me I wasn't worth the cost of being alive? Were you?

Fuck you, Mom! Keep your fucking money! A necklace on the nightstand isn't enough. A trinket can't heal years and years and years of abuse and hurt. You can't hide these scars under dollar bills. I hope you die alone. I know I probably will, but I don't even care anymore. I lost the ability to care thanks to you. You can't make up for the things you did and the things you didn't say now. Too little, too late!

#child abuse #abuse #domestic abuse #family #survivor #YouTube #bojack horseman #forgive #mom #mother #friend #friends #story #personal #chicken soup for the soul #free churro #monolouge #father #dad

36 notes · View notes

canonicallysoulmates · 3 years

Text

Here are my thoughts and opinions on the first season of Loki.

First of all, if you have not re-watched this season I highly recommend it. It’s only 6hrs, pick a day, get some snacks, binge the whole thing especially if you weren’t a big fan of it the first time around because re-watching it I noticed some things that I hadn’t before but I also found myself liking some things that I hadn’t the first time around. Which is why I recommend re-watching it, cause maybe it’ll be the same for y’all and you’ll find some new things to love, and end up enjoying some things you hadn’t before. It’s really a different experience to watch the whole thing together than when you watch week to week which makes sense cause MCU shows are meant to be movie-esque.

Now, I’ve spoken pretty positively about this show almost on the daily so let’s switch it up and start with the negatives aka the things that I personally didn’t like because while I enjoyed a lot of this show there are things I wasn’t a fan of and things that did irk me a lot; the first thing is very much a pet peeve: the title sequence, I’ve mentioned it before in passing but it reminds me too much of Gravity Falls and Bill Cipher, I gave it 6 episodes, 12 if you count the re-watches, and I just don’t like it at all, I get what they were going for but I don’t think it fits the show and I’m hoping they change it for s2.

But that’s a small thing, I can deal with that, the two (technically three) big things I didn’t like - and I think this is why episode 1 is my least favorite and to me the weakest of the season - is the way the show completely ignores Odin’s abuse and the effect that had on Loki, and the way he’s written in the first three episodes. I will go into detail.

I have no shame in admitting that I am pretty forgiving when it comes to this show and its flaws but the one thing I cannot forgive is how it not only ignores Odin’s abusive behavior but tries to paint him as a loving father and like Loki was the one in the wrong using the most insulting way possible which is that scene in Ragnarok where Odin tells his sons he loves them as if an ‘I love you’ undid years of abuse and bad parenting; it shouldn’t surprise me that they did this because the mcu does have a history and a pattern of being abuse apologists like portraying Thanos killing Gamora to get the soul stone as him loving her, or completely ignoring the horrible father that Howard Stark was. But it still really pisses me off that this show in which a big theme is exploring Loki psychologically and emotionally doesn’t even make mention of what a horrible father Odin was! And it tries to make it seem that just because Loki heard his father say a version of him that he loves him, that Loki suddenly thinks of him as a loving parent (referring to that line in episode 5 where he’s talking to Sylvie and says he has betrayed everyone who has loved him and mentions his asshole of a father instead of his mother!). I didn’t need them to go into details about this, but I did want them to call abuse abuse, and acknowledge Odin was a bad father. To me this is the biggest sin so far of this series. It doesn’t surprise me but it does disappoint me.

Connected to this, and in episode 1 we stay, is the “psychological exploration” of this character. I know after episode 1 a lot of fans were all “omg Loki finally got some therapy 😭” and then there’s me in the corner, shaking my head and saying no he didn’t, not at all, not even close. There was no therapy. And there was zero character exploration. I like Mobius but he is no Linda Martin.

All that happened was Loki being shown the consequences of his actions and being directly asked multiple times if he likes hurting people which of course he doesn’t, that’s not therapy at no point did Loki’s trauma get addressed, at no point did Loki get walked through that stuff or asked why he is how he is or what happened to change him from someone who was just mischievous to someone who caused harm.

Sorry to burst y’alls bubble but Loki did not get therapy in episode 1. Change Mobius lines about how Loki is just meant to cause pain and suffering and death for “imagined slights” and you’d have pretty much the same as every other MCU movie. At most what he got was an intervention to help him realize he didn’t want to be a bad person. Intervention and therapy are not the same thing.

And again, not surprised. If the mcu doesn’t properly explore their main, multiple movie having characters trauma and issues why were we expecting them to do it with Loki? Gotta keep those expectations in check. And in part I understand that the writers had a limited amount of time and they wanted to jump right into things but if they were gonna have only one episode with an emphasis on this they could have done a much better job while still jumping into the main story and moving on to character growth. To me this is the second biggest sin. And why episode 1 is ultimately my least favorite.

Last but not least, and something I can be more lenient and forgiving about but I still don’t like is the way Loki was written in the first three episodes. The way he was written was more comical to the point of borderline clown-ish sometimes which doesn’t match his personality at all, and don’t get me wrong there are times when it works but for the most part it just comes across as weird, like the writers were trying too hard to be funny and lighthearted at some points and it just doesn’t work, it ends up with him being a joke.

I’ll use a scene that I absolutely adore as a small example: Loki singing in episode 3. It’s one of my favorite scenes of the season, absolutely live for it, it lives in my head rent free in the VIP section but it’s a very flawed scene because Loki would never. Getting drunk on a mission is what Thor would do, not Loki, that is Thor through and through so as much as I love that scene, it is a flawed, ooc Loki scene.

The good thing is the show does improve in how it writes him in the last three eps, they stop trying so hard with the comedy, he’s more serious, more badass, he still has funny moments for example his reaction to Alligator Loki was hilarious but it’s more natural and fitting. So hopefully, in season 2 it will be the same writing team, and there will be more consistency and he’ll be written less comically and more badass.

Moving on to the positives, there are a lot of things I thoroughly enjoyed, starting with having Loki back on my screen and the center of attention- my baby, my darling, my love 💚 I’m so glad that he (and Tom!) is finally getting the attention, and love, and praise, and recognition that he has been deserving of all these years!

It gave me some of my favorite Loki scenes like I mentioned Loki singing it may be a flawed scene but I loved it nonetheless, it had some really cool fight scenes especially towards the end, it gave Loki a friend! A real friend! My baby is all grown up! 😭💚

The cinematography was beautiful, like you can say a lot about this show but you cannot deny that visually it is stunning and the directing was amazing. The soundtrack was pretty good too, I mean c’mon, ‘I need a Hero’? Iconic.

This show gave us Alligator Loki! How can one not love that! It kick started what looks to be the coolest aspect of Phase 4, it gave us bi, genderfluid Loki (which also brought out some of the ugliest sides of this fandom but this ain’t the time or place for that conversation 🙃), it gave me a new favorite character in Sylvie absolutely love her 💛

It gave me hope that the sun will shine again on Thor and Loki! That they’ll cross paths once again at some point and be reunited! And when they are, we better get that hug!

It gave me my new OTP in the form of Loki x Sylvie, they have great chemistry, and they’re super cute together, and they’re so good for one another and I just love them so much; I know it’s a “controversial” ship but I hope they stick to it and we get more of them in s2 because they are the best couple Marvel has ever given us they are passionate and cute and angsty, and they have the foundation for the most epic love story.

In conclusion, was Loki season 1 perfect? Was it everything I wanted? Nope. But ultimately, it gave me more that I enjoyed than not- also, I can tell this was something that was done with a lot of love and joy and effort put into it which as someone who has loved a show where the writer’s room noticeably didn’t give a rat’s ass, I can appreciate a lot.

Overall I’m very happy with the first season; I love this show, flaws and all, and I can’t wait for s2!

#loki #loki series #loki s1 #loki on disney+#loki series critical #anti odin #my opinion #mine #non spn

9 notes · View notes

silentprincess17 · 3 years

Text

Sometimes Things Have To Get Worse Before They Get Better

This is essentially a darker, heavier alternate take on Memory #7 - Blades of the Yiga. I wanted to write a fic with a competent Yiga Clan. (Yes you read that right). It is very angsty in the beginning and then becomes fluffy (hence the title!)

Summary: Link and Zelda have returned from Vah Naboris with Urbosa and have spent the night in Kara Kara Bazaar Inn. Link wakes up and finds her missing.

Cue the angst.

This story is complete and I will post each chapter daily on here but you can read the whole thing on AO3

Rating: Mature (Graphic descriptions of violence) Pairing: Link/Zelda (Zelink) Characters: Link, Zelda, The Yiga Clan, Master Kohga

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6: Dusk of the First Day

TW: rope burns, emotional trauma.

They left her there

In the sun

With a shirt half ripped, mercy to the wind, sand and heat.

He didn’t know where to look.

He wanted to see if she was okay.

But he didn’t want to ruin whatever shred of dignity she had left.

So, he stood sideways. If anything moved into her vicinity he would know. Not like he could do much, but it would be better for him to at least know.

Would it though?

The guilt seared through him, branding him more than the wound under his eye could. He pressed his head against the bars. He felt so wrung out, so weak. He was used to fighting, to being able to actually do something. He’d never been so helpless before. The irony was that he’d received training to deal with interrogation in case the Yiga ever captured him. He’d been trained under Sheikah tutelage, specifically, about methods to hold in one’s emotions and pains whilst imprisoned by the enemy.

But… he had not received training for what to do when it was the Princess being tortured. Whilst he watched. Powerless. What was he supposed to do when the person whose life he was meant to defend with his own was being humiliated in such a vulgar way? The worst thing was that he’d completely and utterly failed to handle the responsibility he has given. She was entrusted to him by the King, and he had failed. He’d failed not only as her Appointed Knight, but as her supposed Hero, and that seared the most. Some counterpart he was to her soul if he couldn’t stop what was happening to her.

Eventually the same researchers came back, this time accompanied by some Yiga Foot soldiers. Link felt unbridled fury run rampant through him at the sight, because despite his fatigue, he still had enough strength to swear on the Golden Three he'd avenge her. He'd find them, and he'd make sure they regretted even setting eyes on his Princess.

"No change still. Hm. Prolonged exposure made no difference. Well, that's... good news. Let her down, now."

Link was extremely confused, at this whole scenario, but he ignored that, right now his focus would be on Zelda. And trying to help her. He pulled his tunic off and turned his gaze away from the world outside.

“Don’t fight Hero, or we’ll put her in chains. Don’t think we won’t. You might want to cover her up. Or maybe you’ll enjoy the sight too, not like she ever gave you much joy otherwise."

Link was too emotionally drained to pay much heed to their words, he'd already seen the clamps in their hands before they brought Zelda over and hence knew it was useless trying to intervene. The same thing that happened earlier today would repeat itself and this time Zelda would much closer and he just-

They snickered away, teleporting out once they shoved her in.

He didn’t look at her, couldn't bring himself to. He felt so ashamed. He offered his tunic to her, with his hand behind his back, still not looking.

He felt her take it.

And then he heard her sink to the floor.

He didn't know what to do. Did he try to step closer? He wasn’t sure that was what she would want right now. Hell, even at the best of times she hated his presence, and whilst it had felt like they’d turned a new leaf last night… a lot had happened since then.

She sniffed. And his heart broke. “Is the sight of a tainted Princess so disgusting that the Great Hero of Hyrule, blessed by Hylia herself, can’t lay his oh-so-holy eyes on her?”

He spun and was by her side in a second, kneeling. “You could never be tainted.”

The sand clung to her hair, and all the way along the side of her face and neck, both of which had reddened a little from all the exposure to the sun.

She laughed but it was sarcastic, dripped in venom. And it made him scared. “That’s the first I’ve ever heard you speak. Keen to defend your honour Hero?” She scoffed. “I’m sure somehow father will still find a way for this to be my fault. If only you spent more time in dedication to the Goddess, then maybe she would have blessed you with the powers that would have allowed you to get out of this situation. You would have been stronger than them. You would not have allowed yourself to be humiliated.”

Goddesses above. The power. Fundamentally, everything came back to the Calamity... It was so powerful, hell, even it's impending arrival had already wrecked havoc with their lives. He didn't have the answer to her powers, but he wasn't so sure the key was with prayer to the Goddess. He was just as clueless with the sword, and if it would be enough, but it wasn't right to bring that up now. It would be like rubbing salt into her wound. Because at least he had the sword. And... he sort of understood what she was doing. And he’d let her do it. She was hurt. He was too, but he’d shoulder any burden of hers he could. “And he’s silent again.”

Crap, he hadn't meant- “I’m sorry Princess. I’m really sorry.” He didn't know what else to say. He bowed his head, the sight of her burnt and upset felt like a stab to his soul. He heard her sigh, and then she knelt back against the very bars his hands had become blistered, red and swollen from hitting so much.

He hesitantly sat down next to her, wary of her boundaries.

They stayed like that for a while, until she caught sight of his hands. She reached over and traced a faint line over where his skin had split open from the abuse it had received. Sand lined the edges of the wound and he would be lying if he didn’t admit that it stung. And then she shuffled just a little closer.

Link took a series of small half-panicked breaths. He moved, very slowly, as though she was made of glass that could shatter and touched his fingertips on her shoulder. She leant back a little, so his whole hand was now touching her. He took that to mean it was okay to touch, and slowly wrapped his arm around her fully. She shivered, and he started to rub his hand up and down her arm, in an attempt to warm her up.

He observed her throughout. At any sign of discomfort, he would stop, but she hadn’t shown any yet, only leaning into his arm slightly.

Her lower lip trembled. He immediately stopped. She shook her head, “I’m overreacting. I just asked for forgiveness yesterday and look at what I’m doing today.” She blinked rapidly; he could tell she was holding back tears. “It. It could have been worse. I still have my chest guard on. So. They didn’t cut through that.”

He was relieved, honestly, because she’d been spared that, but regardless it was humiliating. “It doesn’t make your pain any less valid Princess, regardless of how many layers they cut through.”

She stiffened at his validation, his corroboration that it wasn’t her fault, because that is what this was about truly, that is why she brought up her father, and her inability to unlock the power. She angrily brushed back the few tears that had dared to make their way through.

He felt sick, bruised and battered, watching her. It was heart-breaking. “It’s okay to cry Princess. It doesn’t mean they’ve won.”

She stared hard at his chest, before slowly looking up to him, as if she was seeing him for the first time. Truly properly seeing him. He guessed it was hard to know someone's intentions if they remained silent. He’d promised himself today though, there was no one here to put a façade on for. And he vowed that he would at least try to help her, even if he didn’t know how.

She latched onto his other arm, fisting the fabric in her hand, and slowly laid her head down on his shoulder. He assumed he said the right thing then, and he slowly exhaled a breath he hadn't even realised he was holding in.

Something his mother had always done for him whenever he’d hurt himself as a child was to brush through his hair. He wasn’t sure that would be appreciated here though. He didn’t want to touch her more than she allowed. What else could he do?

… the lullaby. He knew the lullaby. He could hum the lullaby. He waited for a while, letting her breathing settle a little. He wasn’t sure how she’d respond. She felt so fragile in his arms, like a frightened deer and he was terrified of scaring her away, of hurting her more than she had suffered through already.

A few minutes passed and she was still gripping his shirt, still rigid and tense, and he decided it was worth a shot. He could always stop if she told him too.

She inhaled, sharply, once he started. And then she leaned closer still, until her head was practically on his chest, her ear pressed against his sternum. Could she tell his heart rate had tripled since she moved closer?

He felt, rather than heard, her tears. They pierced through his thin undershirt, blot by blot, each one a stab to his heart.

He would be lying if he didn’t cry too, and it messed up the rhythm a little.

And she looked up, sitting up a little so she could see more of him, probably wondering why his voice had cracked halfway through. And she gasped. “What-”

She raised a hand to his face, and gently brushed the tears away from his left eye and then hovered over his right.

Oh. Oh yes, he’d been hurt. He imagined it probably wasn’t a pretty sight, a fairly deep gouge into the skin between his eye and cheek. He didn’t have her needles so he couldn’t fix it. Even if he did have thread, it wasn’t like he could even see it. It throbbed but it felt nothing compared to the turmoil that had run through him the entirety of the day.

“I refused to look.”

And his gaze flitted from her over-filled eyes, the dull haunted look in them making his heart twist for the umpteenth time today, to her wrist.

And he almost had a heart attack.

Dear Goddesses, he was going to end up with severe cardiac problems after this.

He gently grasped her hand and turned it so he could see properly. Her entire wrist was mangled, red, sore… Chapped from rope burns, no doubt, as she tried to wrench free at the posts.

She sighed. And held up her other hand, and then brought her ankles close, all of which were in a similar state, her ankles less so because it was harder to twist against rope with them.

And then she got out her kit. She moved to him first and he was horrified, snatching it out of her hands and pointing towards the designated bed area. She frowned. He didn’t back down. To hell with her taking care of him, after today.

She shuffled across, probably realising that this was a fight she was doomed to lose. As he moved to clean the wound with the little cup of water the Yiga had left them when they’d dropped Zelda off, she stopped him. “We shouldn’t waste water this way, Link. We both need to drink it rather than clean wounds out. Dehydration trumps infection in the causes of death order, Sir Link.”

He accepted; she was right. Who knew when the next water-cup would come? He keenly felt the loss of his pouches, for the small first aid kit he always carried, and the antiseptic cream he had. He did the best he could, using small pieces of Champion blue cloth to bind around her wrists and ankles, in a makeshift bandage. And then he got unceremoniously pushed into the wall, and he grimaced at the sight of the needle in her hand. He wouldn’t be asleep this time.

He still couldn’t really look at her though, he felt guilty, because the wound was proof that he had failed to protect her honour, even from himself.

“None of this is your fault Link.”

How did she know him so well? Perhaps she’d spent more time observing him that he’d thought. “I failed you Princess. Again. I let them take you. I-” His voice broke. He couldn’t actually voice the rest of his apology, the words scraped against his throat, foul and bitter as shame paralysed him.

She swallowed. “We could play the whose-fault-is-it game all day. Ultimately neither of us are to blame. I’m tired Link. I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

He nodded his assent, and he let her fix the wound. She used small careful stitches which he could tell she did as quickly as she could, so that she didn't cause him excessive pain. And then she wrapped some of the material around his hands in a makeshift bandage. The pain was nothing though. Nothing compared to the dread he felt as to what would come next.

Because today was just day one. What would happen tomorrow?

She eventually finished, and then came to sit next to him. They split the water, and although he tried to make sure she got more than he did, she refused and they each got half equally.

“Hypothermia.” Is all she said afterwards, and he knew what she meant.

This time, though he felt her tears instead of her smile, and he felt completely and utterly useless. She didn’t deserve this. No one deserved this. He understood, that perhaps right now they were in survival mode, and that is why she didn’t want to think about it too deeply because who knew what horrors awaited them tomorrow. But he worried for her, he always did, because he knew the scars this whole experience would have would be lasting.

That was a depressing line of thought and he was treading dangerous waters. He needed to think about how they were supposed to get out. He needed to make sure this didn’t happen again. He needed to actually protect her damn it. He leaned back. What could he really do, stuck as they were? What were the tips he'd been taught on how to handle an imprisonment? Perhaps the first thing to do was to try to figure out what the captors wanted. Usually that was pretty obvious, information or money but it wasn’t so clear cut here.

It just didn't make sense, and he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly the Yiga Clan wanted from this. The thing the researcher had said when stopping the Blademaster- something about it not working... was he talking about Zelda's sealing powers not awakening? He must have, seeing as the Blademaster more or less confirmed that when he taunted Zelda for being unable summon Hylia. And then when the researchers had come to let Zelda down, it seemed to be more of a... conclusion to their experiment. Link wasn’t a scientist, but he’d silently observed plenty of simulations that the Sheikah and Zelda had run on various parts of Ancient Technology. It was a process akin to what happened today- there was some sort of plan beforehand, then the “subject” - most often a Guardian - was prepared, and the planned programming was completed and then the results recorded.

But... Link couldn’t match that criteria with what had happened to Zelda. Just what were the researchers trying to get out of the whole thing? What was their initial plan- i.e why conduct, this-this experiment to torment Zelda to try to get the power to show itself? Surely that was counterintuitive to their overall aim? Because awakening her powers would mean the Darkness would be sealed and that was completely against what they wanted? Which brought him back to what, exactly, was their end goal? Had it changed? It didn’t seem so... And why had the Yiga changed their plan from assasination to... torture? For the life of him he couldn’t understand...

Chewing on his lip he decided it was worth a shot, to try to sift through the memories of lives he’d had but not lived himself, and… he even decided to try to look through the last Hero’s one. He sighed, he always felt uncomfortable with the memories. The thing was that they were like snapshots in time, and they were not… organised in any meaningful way. The whole thing was one big mess of emotion, because most of them were glimpses of things that his predecessors had felt strongly about, those were the ones that they unconsciously imprinted on the sword, and it carried those memories through for each wielder that followed. Maybe it thought there was a lesson to be learnt from each one, or maybe it just wanted a memento of each Hero. Who knew, the sword had a mind of its own.

So, whilst he knew he’d transformed into a wolf, he had no idea why or even how it had happened. The only time he'd get a semi-coherent sequence of events was during his dreams. Those often flowed a lot better than him trying to access the memory whilst conscious, which confused him but really, was anything about the Master Sword simple?

And that was why he’d found it so hard to understand just what was going on in the life of the Hero who was his direct comparator, the one who had succeeded the last time this had happened. The truth of the matter was, Link felt incredibly depressed, every time he thought of what happened 10,000 years ago.

For starters, the guy had it all. Link could only vaguely remember something glowing blue with a distinct sense that it was “Sheikah” so he assumed that was from the inside of one of those shrines, and it was accompanied by a feeling of “training programme”. And the rest of the memories pre-calamity were of… well. This was the part that used to disturb and plague him the most, because clearly, this Hero had a good working relationship with his Princess, and it was probably not just working. Okay it was definitely not just working, but Link refused to think further on that before, especially considering his own tenuous relationship with His Princess. The only other significant thing, alongside a bucketful of reminiscences with the Princess of that time, was some sort of glowing hand, which Link for the life of him couldn’t figure out but it seemed important. Oh, and also a crimson-coloured mist thing, but he wasn’t sure- because the whole thing seemed to be blurred around the edges. What was even more bizarre, was that there was barely any feeling of fear associated with the two things, it was weirdly relief more than anything else. And that frankly made him very frustrated. Relief at facing destiny? Just how prepared was this Hero? The whole thing left him with a bitter taste in his mouth, more so than the others because Link felt anything but prepared.

He sighed, the other thing with the memories were that he couldn’t just summon up what he wanted, and it would appear. It was more like he’d have to file his way through, and hopefully happen upon whatever it was he was searching for. And only now, after revisiting Mr Successful, did he actually remember that the Sheikah were still united back then, so there was no Yiga. They just didn't exist. Wonderful. Another reason why he hated to dwell on the seemingly illustrious journey that Hero had had.

He refocused. This wasn’t about that time. Why else would the Yiga have captured them, other than a sick sense of humour with the whole experiment? Was there any other purpose for this whole thing? His mind continued to wrack with the problem, and he watched as the moon moved across the sky.

Eventually, the Princess’s breathing evened out, as she fell asleep in his arms. At least she’d managed to sleep, he wasn’t sure she would, all things considered.

He sighed. The only other idea he had was that the whole thing was a farce, so they could exact revenge against the Royal Family for the humiliation they underwent all those eons ago and were banished. Clearly, they still used Ancient Sheikah Technology, the likes of which he’d never seen before. But still, surely the aim would be to kill them both to ensure Ganon’s revival would be unhindered? Not that he minded they hadn’t killed them yet; it was relieving to know they still had a chance, even if it was due to some sort of study.

He was distracted when she started to shiver, flinching inwards and he could only imagine what horrors she was seeing in her dreams. He grasped her tightly, running his fingers through her hair as he hummed her lullaby, hoping it would calm her, just as much as it did for him. Thankfully it worked, she settled back down, although now her knees were also pressed against his abdomen. He didn’t think it was a very comfortable position, but he didn’t want to disturb her, given she’d only just relaxed.

He, meanwhile, remained wide awake, tensed as bowstring. He would be ready next time.

20 notes · View notes

representativecharacters · 3 years

Photo

Characters: Castiel, Dean Winchester

From: Supernatural

Representation: mlm (*see “issues” section), abuse survivor (Dean)

Their Importance: Dean and Cas are two characters that many in fandom viewed as LGBTQIA+, with the common belief being that Dean Winchester is bisexual.

There’s a lot about Supernatural and Destiel, and Dean in general, which I’ll go over in the “issues” section, but I think many people in fandom didn’t expect for the show to actually go anywhere with them - until 15x18, when Cas confesses his love to Dean. It’s riddled with issues, yes, but just speaking as a bi girl who’s been watching Supernatural for a decade now, watching Cas confess his love for Dean was just so incredibly validating. It validated that I - and other fans - weren’t delusional when looking for representation from Cas (and Dean). Cas is a wonderful character and gave a new life to the show, and has been a fixture of the show for 10 years. While like with every character he has his ups and downs, he is a kind, loving character, and the only main character who actually survives the show. Despite the issues on the show, knowing that Cas is canonically LGBT+ is something that’s comforting and validating to me, and continues to be so even as Supernatural kind of trainwrecks around everything else.

For myself, watching the show, I saw a lot of myself and my journey in Dean. Watching him grow and develop as a character, and try to experience happiness and find comfort in his found family was wonderful for me to see. I started this show when I was a young closeted kid, and I clung to Dean in a way that I didn’t fully understand until years later. I didn’t actually expect him to be explicitly mlm in the show, and for the most part, that didn’t happen - until the Spanish dub. There, we see the romantic reciprocation to Cas, and that’s something that is real and cannot be taken away. In fact, although it was said that it was a “rogue” translator, the episode will not be redubbed, so it is canon in a version of the show. Despite the fact that he didn’t get canonized in a way I expected or would have ever hoped, it still does give me some joy to know that he is canonically LGBT+ (and in my opinion, bi, although there is no actual label given to Dean). Even if it’s not in the version of the show I watched, I can go back and watch the Spanish dub of the episode and see that representation happen onscreen, and that means something to me.

Issues: The issues list for this show is a mile long, so I’ve split it up into sections and put most of it under a read more:

Dean + Canon Rep: Trying to wade through if Dean is actually canonically LGBTQ+ was....a struggle, to say the least, and I almost didn’t put him into this submission. If you watch the show in English, Dean never once actually reciprocates feelings for Cas, states that he’s into men, or is even confirmed to be in a relationship with other men. Although for many, it is implied, the average audience member may not see Dean as canonically LGBTQ+. However, in the Spanish dub of the show, when Castiel confesses his love to Dean (which is an explicit romantic “I love you”), Dean says “y yo a ti”, which is a reciprocation of Cas’s romantic confession. This post is very long as it is, so I want to link to @destielintheimpala’s timeline of events that occurred for Supernatural and I think it best lays out all the issues about 15x18-20, why it’s been so difficult trying to figure out Dean’s sexuality in canon, why fandom is upset, and can clear up any misinformation. This situation also goes into queerbaiting quite a bit (something Supernatural is infamously known for), which you can read in this article from @thecoolestfreakyouknow.

Reading Dean as a queer character as well - having a character who is queer (or queercoded) and an abuse survivor and then immediately killing him off is also a huge problem. As mentioned in the link above, Jensen Ackles himself felt uneasy about Dean’s ending, and many Dean fans felt the same way. To have a character suffer through abuse and traumas for 15 seasons, imply or straight out have him be LGBT+ (depending on the canon), and then immediately killing him off in the finale is needless to say, an odd choice.

Also, with Dean being an abuse survivor - his father, John Winchester, is commonly shown to be neglectful throughout the show, and Dean has to raise his younger brother Sam by himself most times. He expresses trauma from the experiences he’s had growing up with their father and being forced to hunt at a young age. However, the show weirdly seems to flip flop on their portrayal of John, despite also specifically stating that what he put his children through was child abuse. They have Sam telling John that he did the best he could, they have characters excusing away John’s actions, etc. - it was like the writers themselves couldn’t figure out if they wanted John to have been an abusive parent or not. The show ends with John in Heaven with Mary - thus absolving John of his actions and putting him in the same Heaven with the children he abused.

Castiel: Cas confesses his love for Dean in 15x18, but gets dragged away to a void called “The Empty” immediately afterwards, where he’s meant to be suffering for all of eternity. Cas does get out of The Empty, and even helps to rebuild Heaven - he’s actually one of the few characters to survive the finale - but he never appears onscreen again after 15x18, so fans’ last image of him is getting dragged away to The Empty. Dean never has a follow-up conversation, and there was only one line referencing Cas’s fate, so many fans believed he was still in The Empty suffering.

As the timeline linked above shows, the situation around Destiel is an odd one - the Spanish dub, cast’s overall silence, the lack of Misha Collins in the finale all led fans to believe that something was switched around last minute in terms of Dean’s sexuality and Destiel as a general ship. Obviously, this is speculation unless someone from the show explicitly comes out and says that fans are correct, but it’s included in the issues section because - regardless of it it turns out to be true or not - it’s such a big part of the issues currently surrounding Supernatural and canon representation. In any case, however, Castiel’s confession in 15x18 gave fans hope where they may not have had hope before, and then it was unceremoniously dropped with no real follow up - from a writing standpoint, it isn’t good writing to confirm a major character as queer via a love confession and then never go back to that plot point. While I’m happy that Cas is canonically queer and I’m not trying to say that I would rather not have more representation, I do look back on the show and wonder, with the story that made it to screen, what the actual point of writing that in was.

As mentioned before, Castiel was a main character on the show for 10 years - while I’m glad that his character survives the series, to not have him show up in the final two episodes (particularly the finale, and especially after canonically making him LGBTQ+) felt like a slap in the face to both the character and the audience who loved him.

Miscellaneous treatment of characters: In general, Supernatural has many problems in its treatment of female, characters of color, and LGBTQ+ characters. Alongside being incredibly underrepresented in the show, if they do show up, they are commonly tortured, treated poorly, and/or killed off (if not all of the above). Even thinking about their recurring characters who are also representative - Kevin, their only recurring Asian character, is killed off and appears as a ghost multiple times, Charlie, who is a lesbian, gets killed off and replaced in the show with an Alternate Universe version of herself, Eileen, a Deaf woman, gets killed off and then is brought back and is implied to survive the show, but like Cas, never actually shows up in the final two episodes even though she’s Sam’s girlfriend. I can think of very few minority characters in the show in general, much less those who got any type of happy ending.

#spn #supernatural #castiel #dean winchester #deancas #representation: lgbtqia+#representation: mlm #representation: abuse survivor #issues: ambiguous rep #issues: content #issues: character death #Issues: queerbaiting #submitted

25 notes · View notes

partnersatfazbear · 3 years

Text

Analysis of The Real Jake (SPOILERS)

I can't decide whether to make this post a stream-of-consciousness style or group it into evidence for x... but since it's easier, I'll just write my thoughts as I go. Although a lot of this is factual ties to, say, FNAF 4, things like relating Margie to Henry are just my own headcanon and you can do with that what you will AKA don't take this all too seriously, but have fun with it. There’s also specific notes about Michael Afton, for those that just want to know what was said regarding him (presumably).

Before I start, please note I've had three hours of sleep in the last... 28 hours? IDK I can't math, especially not on this little sleep. So, there may be errors. I tried to make a note on things I was unsure about, too.

Note: I wrote this before the Evan=CC theory was all but confirmed. Although I believe this theory from the logbook, I think a lot of these notes are still valid.

Read my notes under the cut:

Margie shares similar physical appearance to Henry: Pg 84 “The window fan blew a lock of her shoulder-length brown hair across her upper lip so it looked like she had a mustache.”

“Mrs. Afton” stand in is mentioned: Pg 86 “...it had been four years since his Mom had died...” (Jake is 9 in the story)

I notice when Scott mentions plaid. Pg 87 “...a green-and-blue plaid plush chair...” I mostly wanted to note this since canonically, Henry had a green plaid shirt.

“William” stand in is mentioned. Pg 89 “And you know he thinks about you [Jake] all the time?” “So, he has to concentrate on what he's doing... ...I don't want him thinking about me and end up shooting himself in the foot or something.” Pg 102 “Yeah, I did. [I spilled some chocolate ice cream] Right on my shirt!” Pg 122 “I did that today! [While playing a DDR like game, breaking a shoelace.]” (Admittedly, I only counted these because I headcanon William is much more of a bumbling fool than he appears. It comes up very often as you can see... although you could write it off as Evan just trying to relate to his kid.)

“William” stand in is mentioned. Pg 92 “...Margie was pretty sure Evan couldn't afford to replace a washer and dryer” and “...Evan, at his rank, could barely afford her” Pg 110 “Gillian's house shared stlying with Evan's, but hers was probably four times bigger.” (Again, I headcanon William and his family is on the low end of middle class, if not lower, in terms of income. Particularly, the house is cramped.)

“Mrs. Afton” stand in is mentioned. Pg 93 “First, Jake's Mom was killed.” Pg 139 “The mom's dead.” (You could infer that she died via something akin to a car crash in the context of the story, however if you reflect it to the games given the commonalities, I like to think of this as confirmation that William murdered her, given the word 'killed' is used.)

Margie records herself on her cell phone. Pg 93 (and on other pages) (Again referencing my headcanon for Henry, in which he records ideas/diaries often. At minimum, Henry is referred to as “Cassette Man” in PizzaSim so... I just thought it could make for an interesting comparison.)

Jake mentions his “friends”. Pg 99 “Patty and Davey... Vic... and the twins... Ellie and Evie... Kyle, Clay, and Garrett” (Also, he isn't mentioned until later, but there's his best friend Brandon, too. I noted these in reference to CC talking about his 'friends', either IRL or the plushies. I assume his IRL friends are the MCI victims. The number doesn't add up though. I really, really wanted to make a connection about the twins, considering Charlie and Sammy are twins, but there wasn't enough evidence to write it off as anything other than a coincidence. Also... Clay, really? We need another double name in this series? Ugh.)

What's your favorite flavor? Chocolate Pg. 102 “What flavor did you get?” “Chocolate. Duh.” (This is a stretch, but it did remind me of Help Wanted's final level in the main game, where you're asked to choose your favorite cake flavor. Although, they're discussing ice cream here.)

Maybe some insight into William's personality? Pg. 103 “You ever do that, Evan?” “What?” “Let off steam.” “Me? No. Steam is pretty much what keeps me going.” (Just more evidence that William is obsessed with his work. You could imply “steam” implies he runs like a machine, but that's stretching a bit.)

Pg. 113 -118 (Jake climbs out of his window to run off to play at the arcade with his friend. Obvious parallel to the child in Midnight Motorist, although it's daytime and no animatronics/fursuits luring him.) There is this, on Pg 121 also. Jake says, “We played all the racing games. I love racing games.”

PURPLE Pg 121 “...did you get a slushie at the arcade? I got one. I got grape. It turned my tongue purple.” “My tongue's purple, too!” “Purple power!” (Uh, do I really need to explain this? I should note that Evan is the one mentioning “grape”. I guess William likes grape flavor and purple.)

'Michael' is mentioned. Sort of a stand in for Michael Afton, but it should be noted that Michael and Evan are brothers in this universe. Pg 126, 127 “Michael...lived in Europe for a few years...” “Michael's a serious dude. He's, well, a little different. He's intense about making money...the way he is about it... can make him seem like he's not human.” “So, he's like a cyborg with bad programming?” Michael has some dialogue: “You must excersize caution. You could get chocolate on my suit, and that would be bad. Very, very bad.” (The very very bad thing is a running joke in the family, which is why this comes up. I don't have a lot to say about it, though. I think Michael [Afton] being obsessed with money seems a bit counter intuitive to how we know him, but who knows? I also want to note that Evan doesn't seem antagonistic towards Michael; in fact, he “hate[s] to ask him for favors”.)

Also, Pg 141 “His [Michael's] flat, gruff voice was unmistakable.” Michael is also the first one to hear his father is dead and informs Margie about it. “I have been notified that Evan's dead.” Pg 142 “She had only met Michael the one time, and she knew the way he processed the world was very different from what was “normal”” Michael also states to Margie: “I've got Evan's will... you're Jake's guardian and he left you the house and some savings. I'm the executor.” Margie also says: “He[Michael]'s a numbers genius, manages money for the wealthy people and has made a killing doing it.” “He's not a bad guy. He just doesn't know how to connect. He doesn't feel the way we do.” (Just more Michael characterization.)

Direct FNAF 4 easter egg references: Pg 128 “...the IV stand lurking in the corner of the room” Pg 129 “...and the line of perscription medication bottles marching across the top of the chest of drawers”

Margie is more than a nanny and possibly in love with Evan: Pg. 139 “She'd come to love Evan, too... like a brother.” Pg 140 “...she was included in the outings, movie nights, game nights, and storytelling time...” Pg 149 “...she wanted Evan to be more than just a boss, and being in his room when he was gone made her feel like a lovelorn stalker.” “Love him like a brother... She snorted. Boy, had she been lying to herself.” Pg 158 “What she was feeling called for a screaming fit or a total mental breakdown.” (Yeah, this is just me reading too much into this for Willry content, haha... But still. I am determined that Margie is a Henry stand-in.)

'I will put you back together' Pg 140 “I'm trying to bring you home whole.” (Evan is discussing “no man left behind” with his son, Jake. I think this is obvious.)

William's home office? Pg. 149 “When he was home, she'd go in and vacuum or put away laundry... ...when he was gone...coming in here felt like an invasion of privacy.” “Evan's room would be her room.” “...I'd feel like I was sleeping in your bed, she thought.” “...the room felt discretely masculine.” “The walls were covered in family photos.” “The shelves were stuffed with fiction... mysteries to classics, nonfiction... how-to books...from rebuilding a car engine to planting a garden.”

FNAF 4 reference. Pg 152 “Outside, a dog barked.” (You can hear a dog barking as ambient noise during nights when playing FNAF 4.)

Other notes:

It happens a lot, but one of the main things in the book is the doll Simon and how Jake talks to it. This is very blatantly a reference to the Golden Freddy Plush (“Psychic Friend Fredbear”). The story confirms it's Jake's father, Evan, talking through it. Although it makes the one scene in FNAF 4 a little wonky (the only scene where we see Purple Guy), I think it's pretty much confirmed that it's William talking to CC now. Obviously, we already suspected this due to Sister Location's “Secret Room”. In this story, Evan says he did it because he wanted to give Jake some hope he would live. Combined with both the IV/medicine bottle easter eggs (in the story and FNAF 4) I think it's plausible to assume that CC was taken home after the Bite of '83 for a period of time before he passed away. I will admit, also, that Evan definetly comes off as a very caring father (in comparison to how we presume William is based on what we've seen of him as a person; although I argued this before on this blog, I don't think William hates his kids. I think he's neglectful, moreso as the story goes on. I think he resents Michael for many reasons but I won't go into that here. I just don't think he's the abusive monster the fanbase interprets him to be—at least not early on.)

The cabinet reminds me a lot of the closets in the novel series. A built in shelf with a doll in it. A doll that represents a child. Considering Margie tends to this doll (see Pg. 130-135), I have to draw more parallels between her and Henry.

The fan is mentioned A LOT. I don't really know why, but I guess we can't help but think of every single FNAF office when it's brought up. Specifically, on Pg. 106, Margie mentions the fan in her room is as loud as a jet engine and the sound made her nervous. Once again, I'm reminded of PizzaSim. Seriously, screw you fan.

The heat is mentioned a lot, too. I know the story takes place in summer, but this did remind me of Pizza Sim.

Pg. 93 “Margie sat down in the faded blue webbed lawn chair that was set up, for reasons she never understood, in front of the shelves by the stairs.” (I noted this because it's specifically called out and I don't know why.)

Margie talks about why she's working for Evan: Pg. 95 “I didn't get the internship I applied for.” I like to think her and Mia (from 1280) were after the same internship. (I may be misremembering, but I'm pretty sure Mia mentioned an internship at the hospital.)

Jake is mentioned to have brown hair, green eyes. His favorite color is green. He also wears green often. I couldn't find anything really interesting about it. It would make more sense as a Puppet reference, tbh (because of the green bracelet (and eyes? I may be remembering wrong) I guess it's also worth noting that Elizabeth has green eyes.

Pg 135 “Are you afraid people will think you're murdering me?” “...I could end you so quickly you'd never make a sound.” (Just an odd conversation between Jake and Margie. Margie is joking here, obviously.) Also, Pg. 136 “I just figured your [Jake's] wires got crossed or your circuits were frying.” (Admittedly, I don't know what to make of this. Could be a reference to Robot-CC, if you believe that or MikeBot [I don't], but more likely just ironic dialogue. It could also reference Jake's future in the Stichwraith?)

Pg 139 “Sometimes, Margie wished she was like one of the robots Jake liked so much.” (Although I can't really compare this to Henry, I did write William with this mindset and thought it was worth mentioning.)

Pg 141+ So, Evan dies overseas (he's a soldier). (I think this could be hinting that William has been springlocked around the time CC passes away. Jake has been home for some time after his diagnosis so we can infer based on that and the easter eggs that CC was brought home to die in peace. At the very least, William's probably very absent during this time. Possibly brought in for questioning but not arrested. I don't know. I feel like there's something to this.)

Pg 154 “Dave's at work.” (Why? Can we not use established names? Aghhh)

Pg 155 “The ambulance arrived at 11:32.” (I don't know why this is stated so outright. I couldn't find a reason, except that a few paragraphs earlier they say it will arrive by noon. I don't know why it's so specific, but I felt like noting it anyway.)

Pg 159 “Five people. Five sets of eyes. And none of them noticed...” (Yeah. We all know how important 5 is in FNAF.)

Three medical personel are mentioned. One at the end is named Nancy [No Last Name Given], but I like to think its a reference to Man in 1280 and we're dealing with Heracles Hospital once more, although it's never said in this story. Speaking of, the only thing that really stood out to me in 1280's story was that a billionare funded the restoration of the hospital. I like to headcanon that was Henry's doing—I imagine him obscessing over overcompensating for his mistakes by giving back in every way possible, even if it isn't directly related to him.

So, this post only took two hours of my life. I hope someone gets some use out of it, be it for my intended Willry purposes or maybe those Michael fans that are curious about it. If you enjoyed this post, let me know. I'd love to write up more of these if I have the time.

I have other write-ups on this blog, too. Just search fnaf theories on my blog page!

#fazbear frights #spoilers #blackbird #the real jake #michael afton #william afton #henry emily #crying child #willry #helliam #fnaf 4 #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fan theory #fnaf theories #fnaf theory

30 notes · View notes

hecohansen31 · 4 years

Text

To Kill A King

Ivar+Saxon Princess! Reader

The Stupid Believer:

Just when I thought I was Running out of time The King stood trembling at my bedside

“To Kill A King” by Hungry Lucy

(Masterlist) (Previous Chapter)

(A/N): Hello there lovelies!

I know that nobody reads this, but I just wanted to tell you two things:

1) THIS CHAPTER SUCK! (I mean... fluff and angst not mixed properly together+me overthinking everything...=utter shit) (so I am sorry, I hope the next one will be better!).

2) I might disappear a bit in the following days, because of personal reasons (related to tumblr and outside) so if I don’t reply/am very active, I am sorry, but I am doing what I think is best for myself.

As always: this series means so so much to me, so any feedback is more than welcome, everything starting from comments to reblogs, just LET ME NOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Feedback makes our fingers write faster and our heart beat faster!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: Pushed up to confront your previous 'owners', you delve in the joys of marital bliss, although nothing seems to last truly. Innocence and dreams even less.

WORDS: 19 K

WARNINGS: Arranged Marriage, Mention of Domestical Abuse and Rape, Violence (Strong Themes), Sexual Harassment, Slavery, Historically inaccurate, Blood and Period.

The ride on the chariot, this time, had been silent and although you weren’t sure, you had the sensation that Ivar went slower this time, almost as if he didn’t want to bring you there, as he held you against him, his own breath being uneven.

You thought about what English men wanted from you.

You almost dreaded the thought of being wanted back.

It made you feel like an object.

Nothing more than a vase to be traded.

The brothers had started off before you, to allow you the privacy to converse in peace and finish what they had interrupted, but Ivar hadn’t said anything, the intimacy you had owned a few moments before completely shredded to pieces, as he harshly suggested you adjusted your hair.

Strands of grass were in them, alongside the evident traces of Ivar’s kiss, since they had been evidently brushed up by Ivar’s bigger hands.

He still looked for your hand as you were finally ready to face the English warriors, and he had helped you again on the chariot, making sure to dust off the remaining of grass from your clothes as you did the same on his own.

You almost wanted to say comforting words, such as the ones you had saidion the small private piece of heaven, Ivar had offered you.

But this wasn’t the time.

And you couldn’t promise Ivar to stay if your father wanted you back.

You hoped it wasn’t what would have happened, since it would have certainly awakened the war you had been sold to finish.

Your father wouldn’t have been that stupid.

You hoped.

You met the English warriors at the border of the camp and you immediately recognized them as the border patrol unit, a rather smaller one in the English army, mostly travelling to make sure the borders and treaties were respected both by the heathen and both by the lords of England, that might use a moment of instability to gain more lands.

Like your father.

Gosh, he was quite clouding your mind, since you couldn’t help but feel like whatever was happening, he was for sure involved in it.

Nervousness flickered through you as Ivar beside you held his most unimpressed expression, something that made you uneasy, since this way he was quite difficult for you to understand him.

You wanted to hug him, since the feeling of his strong body was almost comforting to you, but it would have been highly inappropriate, even more now that you were faced with your own old motherland.

You quickly moved in front of the brothers, although Hvitserk, made sure to stand beside you on the side that Ivar didn’t occupy already, gently pushing an hand on your shoulder, as if he understood your uneasiness.

And then you were fully in front of your previous kinfolk.

And you didn’t recognize a single one of them, almost as if entire years had passed since you had started your new life in the Viking settlement.

It was better to get this over before nervousness got to you.

“I am princess (Y/N)” you screamed in order to be heard by the scouts, since a lengthy distance was between the two armies, with the Vikings seemingly ready to attack at any moment, meanwhile the Saxons looked quite fearful, even more because they weren’t in the slightest enough counterattack the heathens “… why have I been summoned, here?”.

Your words seemed more annoyed than you had intended them to be, but the memory of Ivar’s lips on yours was still recent, and the way his hand gently pressed its way in your arms, already made you missing of the intimacy you had shared.

No cunning thoughts or mischievous plans between you two.

You had expected a few soldiers of your father to appear, although none of them wore its emblem, but then the crowd of soldiers opened, revealing, finally, a familiar face.

A fair-haired boy walked in front of the army, his light grey eyes searching for something, till they set on you, as his steady body finally seemed to relax.

Alexander appeared in your full view, and for once since all this meeting had been announced, you were happy to see a Saxon face among them, as he moved closer to you, walking the lengthy distance between the two formations, till both Hvitserk and Ubbe stepped up to stop him.

Your arm immediately shot up to the younger brother, as you pushed him back lightly, even going as far as to pull his hair to catch his attention and you whispered in his ear that you knew him.

And Alexander’s eyes, now, spoke of a similar recognition.

And soon, his hands moved to do what his eyes spoke of, as he, after both the brothers had been reeled back, pushed you in his arms, lightly raising you off the ground, making you giggle.

He twirled you laughing of happiness, making you completely forget where you were.

And then when he set you down, you had forgotten all around yourself.

Not many people, back in the castle had been your friends, truly.

But Alexander had been your dearest friend.

And your first crush.

Although that ship had sailed and sunk long ago.

“… what are you doing, here?” you giggled softly, as you tried to adjust your hair behind your ears, meanwhile Alexander regarded your strange outfit of the day, something that made you blush, but you coughed lightly to bring his attention back to your question.

“We are actually here for you, (Y/N)” he spoke softly, before he straightened up his back, pushing himself in a more honorable position, as if he hadn’t just broken the entire castle etiquette, in hugging you in that way “… we are here to check on you, princess (Y/N)”.

“Why?” you were honestly surprised to discover the reason, mostly because it made you almost feel like you had done something wrong.

Was your father not happy of the little information you had given him?

Alexander lightly lowered his stance, almost conspiratorially.

“… we have heard news that you had been accused of having poisoned a prince and were facing a trial for that…” realization hit your face, as you lightly moved to turn your head back, recognizing among the many Viking faces Heahmund’s one, who looked honestly relieved at seeing the small Saxon army.

And then your eyes fell onto Ivar, as your head made to turn to Alexander.

His mouth was slightly agape, as his eyes held a brokenness in them that made you shift your whole attention to him, as you noticed that his hands had been left around in the position they were when he was holding onto you.

You immediately reached around, pushing one hand between you and your heart broke at the eagerness Ivar showed in taking it, before his face became again impossible to understand, as he shifted his eyes away from you, as if he hadn’t been bothered by your intimacy with Alexander a few minutes before.

“It isn’t anything too bad” you mumbled lightly in Norse “… he is a friend”.

He just grunted, and knowing that he wouldn’t hear any explanation, you turned heavily to Alexander, glad that Ivar’s hold on your hand was still a small link between you.

“… I was” shock appeared in Alexander’s eyes “… but it was all a plot against Ivar, all the accusations fell quickly yesterday and my life is alright, I am sorry you had to come here for nothing, my father must have been truly annoyed to have to send..”.

“It is not your father who sent us” your friend spoke and you were immediately surprised, shock written all over your face “… our God-blessed king Alfred asked us to check on you, to make sure that you were safe”.

“I am”.

You wanted all of this to cut itself quickly, since you could feel the tension between the two armies, because although they were in no one’s land, it didn’t mean it couldn’t be conquered.

“I’d like to make sure of it myself” spoke Alexander, as he grabbed on the hand that Ivar didn’t hold, making effectively the worst move possibly, because as he gripped forward, Ivar gripped you back to himself, effectively overpowering your friend.

And you cursed yourself for being stuck between two men.

“… my wife told you she is fine, Saxon, now go back to your lands” Ivar’s words were a veiled threat, and although you didn’t like his tone and sent him an harsh glare to remind him of his tone.

“I said I’d like to prove it myself” replied in an even more hissing tone, Alexander, holding himself as arrogantly as he could, something that always fascinated you, but right now, against Ivar’s sheer power, he looked like a boy who was challenging a man.

“And I do think that I have a saying in this” you surprised the two men, pipping in, as you broke away from both grips, meanwhile Hvitserk behind you giggled at the ridiculousness “… Alexander, has my tongue ever been anything less than truthful?”.

He shook his head at your reprimand as Ivar shook his head, already tasting victory, and you decided to take advantage of it, turning to him, as you joined your hands together.

Truly the portrait of the perfect couple.

“… I’ll walk with him to make sure that he comes back to the army, I won’t leave your view, don’t worry” you knew it sounded almost pathetic, but Ivar didn’t already seemed pleased to solely leave your hand “… it is a necessity that I show him that I am not hurt”.

“I would never hurt you” spoke tenderly Ivar, as his hand broke away from the hold of yours, lightly caressing your face to reinforce the concept, a gesture that made you smile softly, as you leaned in the simple touch “… he dishonor my land and men saying that”.

Why with men it was always about honor?

“… I know” you spoke softly “… but they don’t know it, so just let me show them that I am happy with you”.

The words seemed to hit him deeply.

But never as much as they hit with you.

Because they were the truth.

You had been happy with him.

Not always and sometimes he could be quite a pain in the ass, but…

… he made you smile.

“… I swear that nothing will happen” you promised “… I swear it on the crown”.

That seemed to get to Ivar, whose tense expression disappeared in a smirk, as his other hand went to your waist, something that made you breathe out at his boldness.

“… are you using my ideas against me?” he commented with that insane arrogance, that made you want to slap him and kiss him at the same time.

Oh Gosh, wouldn’t you have liked to be still there in your own private heaven, on top of him, tasting him as he explored your body.

And at the same time, shame brought a slight blush all over your body, starting from your neck and pushing itself on your cheeks.

“Am I not supposed to be your smart wife?” you retorted, and he seemed to enjoy it.

“… that’s more like cunning” he replied, before he brought your hand to his lips, a mark of possessiveness in his reply that made you smirk softly “… walk him back and tell them to leave”.

You nodded, as you turned to Alexander, who tried and failed to hide his confusion, and you suddenly noticed that you had spoken in Norse, without even noticing it with Ivar.

“… let’s go, my proud knight” you commented offering him his arm, as both Hvitserk and Ubbe were told to back off by Ivar, who turned his back to you, going back to his cart, meanwhile his brothers trailed after him, something mischievous in Hvitserk’s eyes.

You were glad you didn’t have to deal with his annoying questions.

Alexander took your arm, almost as if he didn’t believe it fully and gently started walking, at a slower pace than your own.

You kept in silence, till you were a bit away from heathens and then Alexander moved to talk, finally:

“Is it true that you aren’t in danger, anymore?” he asked “… Heahmund sent a letter and your sister Kathleen received it…”.

That explained the urgency and fear in Alexander’s arrival at the camp.

Gosh, it made you miss Kathleen.

With all the turn of events and the need to desperately win Ivar over, you hadn’t thought much about the love you had for your sister.

The loyalty that bound all of you.

“… and she convinced king Alfred to send a dispatch of border soldiers to check on you” Alexander continued to explain, as a small smirk appeared on your face.

“How did Kathleen manage to convince father and him?” you asked, honestly surprised, because although you knew that your sister Kathleen could drag the Devil away from his throne, you didn’t know how much a man like king Alfred might be pushed to agree on such a deal.

It made you wonder what was going on in the castle, during your absence.

“… it’s Kathleen” he commented tightly, shooting you a look as if to say ‘you know how she is’ “… she never wanted to play Guinevere’s parts when we played ‘The Legend of Arthur’, insisting she’d make a dashing Lancilot”.

“That she did”.

And that had always let Abigail be Guinever, meanwhile you were the witch Morgan, always being fascinated with such creatures, since it had made you feel powerful in your own way.

You had never been as strong as Kathleen or as cunning as Abigail, so to have magical powers…

… it had been a dream from you.

Imagination had been your sole weapon against your dull reality.

Alexander was the son of one of your father’s lords, a smaller one, cursed by the fact that that he was the second male child, hence he wouldn’t inherit much, unless he forged his own Destiny.

He would have been the least adapt match for you, according to your father.

But that had only invigorated the love that you had felt for him.

Although right now, with the knowledge of past facts, you knew it wasn’t anything more than an infatuation.

It was puppy love: you had always admired the strength of Alexander, the way he was so bright and funny, in a way that charmed anybody who had ever come upon his path.

But you had soon discovered that you weren’t the sole one charmed by him.

You had once caught him with one of the kitchen servants, and that had been the end of your first ever love story.

You had been heartbroken, mostly when he always promised you to run away with you, away from your father and his cruelty to be his own Guinevere.

But that had never happened.

And your dreams had been shattered.

From then on it had been simply a good friendship between you, although you hadn’t had much time to spend together since he had been enrolled against the heathens, even going as far as being sent to Ireland in some scouting missions, so you hadn’t seen him in quite some time.

Your mind had been quite troubled lately so the thought of him hadn’t crossed your mind, even more since your love for him had become a more tender affection.

“… and you are safe, aren’t you?” he asked, as he gently made you to turn around to face him “… they don’t mistreat you, do they?”.

“They don’t” you commented as you breathed out, trying to keep yourself the absolute calmest “… they have been welcoming, if you don’t count the fact that I was involved in a ploy to belittle Ivar”.

“You call him Ivar?” almost disbelief spoke in his eyes as you said that.

“What should I call him?” you shot back “… I do call him ‘husband’, if you are curious”.

“I am just…” he seemed at lack of words at your reply “… and you have even learned Norse, I just… feel like…”.

“I did what I had to do to survive” you commented, a flare of anger appearing in your eyes at Alexander’s questions, which reminded you of Heahmund, alongside the accusation hid behind them.

That you had turned away from the rightful way to the heathen’s one.

“That is right” Alexander commented, his uneasiness finally calming, as he moved to softly grab onto one of your hands “… I am sorry I wasn’t able to stop this from happening, you didn’t deserve it”.

“… you didn’t know, and you couldn’t have done much, knowing my father” you replied lowly, as you gripped back onto his hand, gently rubbing your thumb on the back of it “… I am actually surprised that you are here, I thought you were in Ireland, during your own scouting duties”.

“Alwin died” he replied and finally his eyes became darker with grief and you weren’t able to stop surprise from appearing on his face, at the news that Alexander’s older brother and heir to his father’s lands had died “… fighting against the heathens, although father didn’t want him to”.

“My condolences to you and your father” you spoke, measuring your words.

Although Alexander and Alwin had never been truly tight-knit brothers, always in competition for their father’s attention, you knew that it must have destroyed him to have that news, even more when his eyes showed the guilt of not having been able to protect his brother.

You understood him all too well.

“Father then had me coming back, although I told him I’d still be in the scouting legion, even more when I discovered what had happened to you” his eyes spoke of a true pain at the knowledge of what had befell on you, and you smiled trying to reassure him.

“… although this isn’t my ideal life, they treat me well, I swear it on the Holy Virgin” you promised him softly “… they haven’t ever hit me and Ivar…”.

‘… and Ivar kisses me like I am the only woman in the whole world for him’.

Your cheeks reddened at that thought.

“… he is gentle with me”.

Alexander didn’t look convinced and you knew that you hadn’t much time or options to convince him.

“… just give me more time” he suggested softly, as he pleaded to you, grabbing your hands with the same gesture Ivar had done not too long ago, and his deep grey eyes faced you, surprising you even further when he lowered himself on his knees “… please, my brave gentle princess, accord more time to me, so that I can let your sister know that you are safe and sound”.

Although the entire set-up was almost comical, this might have been quite the problem, because Ivar had clearly shown up that he didn’t like in the slightest the thought of Saxon men on his borders, but at the same time Alexander was stubborn.

You knew it all too well.

“Settle up for the night, I’ll talk with my husband” you pointed out the last word, as Alexander nodded eagerly, bringing your hand to his lips, and although you blushed at the silly gesture you couldn’t help but feel hollow from the small crush you had felt before.

“… you are an angel, princess”.

“I better be, because I’ll need a miracle to convince Ivar”.

---

“This is an insult!” in fact screamed Ivar, as you and his brothers held a private council in the main hall.

You had informed Ivar of everything on the chariot and although his focus hadn’t left for a single moment the control of the horse, he had stilled underneath you.

He was actively avoiding to let his anger feast on you, but he was bitter and he wouldn’t have had such a dishonoring command over himself.

“… and the people won’t have it” added Ubbe, sending you a small look as if to say ‘it is all your fault’, something that made you turn a bright smile at him, as you adjusted in the chair next to Ivar.

“I know” you commented, trying to calm all the souls around you “… but also the Saxons wouldn’t have left, if I hadn’t promised to try to let them stay and see me”.

“We can fight them” commented Hvitserk, drinking heavily from his horn, as you sent him an unbelieving glare, but immediately Bjorn backed him up, indeed reminding you that the Vikings had a completely different mindset from the Saxons.

And you were stuck between them, trying to find an agreement,

“You might, but it would destroy the peace my marriage sealed” and you sent a pleading look to Ivar, whose eyes still kept away from you, making you damnably nervous “… and you might defeat a scouting legion, but it’ll just put you to risk”.

“People will question this decision” Ivar simply commented, as he sent you a small look as if to ask you whether you realized the chaos that would ensue by your decision.

“… and you aren’t exactly popular among them” replied tightly Ubbe, something that this time got him a harsh look from you, as Ivar said a quick ‘don’t talk like that to my wife’.

It made you dizzy, to know that he defended you like that.

“… it isn’t exactly my fault for that” you commented “… but we could use the celebrations as an excuse: we invited the Saxons over to show them our victory over them, hiding this behind the semblance of a peaceful negotiation”.

The brothers didn’t seem convinced in the slightest, although they agreed begrudgingly, knowing that neither the opponents would have backed down and this was the best option for both.

“It isn’t enough” mumbled Ivar darkly, as he shot you a small look “… we don’t gain anything from this, and nobody of our warriors will celebrate next to some Saxon”.

“Then say that it is for an agreement for new lands” Ivar looked at you confused “… I have some lands to my name from my mother’s side, exclusively, say I have given them to you as a wedding gift and the Saxons are here to ensure the sanctity and rightfulness of the agreement”.

Your mother had bounded, before dying, some lands to your and your sisters’ names exclusively, to ensure that no matter what befell you, you’d have something for your dowry or to survive.

The question of these lands had annoyed your father, because he couldn’t have them and neither he could have used them as his own, as they were exclusively yours and they could be controlled solely by you, when you had come of age or married.

They weren’t as big as your actual dowry, but without a doubt they could have seemed quite the deal for Ivar, who simply looked at you surprised at that revelation, risking of choking on his ale, but he immediately composed back, agreeing to this with a tight nod.

“… then send the message that the Saxons are staying simply for that” he announced to his brothers, and you could see a similar grimace appear on both Bjorn’s and Ubbe’s faces.

They didn’t like that their younger brother chose for them.

But they didn’t say much, excusing themselves to spread the news, meanwhile Hvitserk stood in the room, painfully unwanted, till Ivar told himself to wait for you outside.

He had to exchange a few words with you privately and then Hvitserk would accompany you back to your tent, in order for you to write a letter to the Saxons, alongside talking with Heahmund, something that you didn’t tell Ivar, although it was high on your list of things to do.

Hvitserk trotted back, quickly, although he shot you a light smirk, as if he knew what you meant to do in your free time, and you weren’t able to stop the slight blush from appearing on your face.

Ivar did share a bit of red also on his cheeks, but his eyes were sharp till Hvitserk moved away, and then they settled on you, extremely tame with their thoughts making them appear like a storm, held back solely by wind.

“… I won’t take your lands” it was a bare answer, a whisper of indeed a storm that was starting, and you felt shaken to your very core by that revelation.

“What?”.

Any man would have seized all your belongings without a second thought or even asking you for your opinion, something that you personally found barbaric to say the least.

It was how court and wives worked.

It was how life had always worked.

Women were just the means to gain more lands and properties.

“… your lands will stay yours” he promised “… I’ll give them back to you as a wedding gift”.

“There is no need…” you started, but Ivar’s eyes shut you up quickly, as a hand of his went to thread itself in your hair, making you look up at him.

“They are your mother’s, aren’t they?” he searched your eyes for the truth, but you still nodded to assert it “… then they’ll never belong to me”.

“Thank you” you couldn’t help but appreciate the gesture that made you smirk softly, as you joined your hand with Ivar’s, gently bringing it to your lips, as the boy in front of you smiled softly.

“… and I have no interest in lands in England” he commented, trying to move away the attention from the gentleness he had showed “… Kattegat is my home”.

And soon it would have been yours too.

---

You adjusted yourself on the chair to the table you had been sat on for the previous half an hour, the letter meant for Alexander half-written, as you played around with the tip of the feather you were writing with, constantly annoyed by Angelika, who stood on your bed.

The handmaidens had all been excused, once you had arrived back in the tent, except for Turid who had been sent to retrieve and give an hour to bishop Heahmund, in order for you to meet up and tell him what would have been happening next.

What had happened now that you knew where his loyalties laid.

You also wanted to reinstate your strength and power over him, since he had seemed to forget about it.

As much as you damnably appreciated his attempt in helping you, the fact that he had sent a letter for your father without helping you or contacting you first, showed much of the true purpose of his staying beside you.

Something that you couldn’t have when you were stuck in the Viking settlements solely with him as your ally.

“… so, was you day with prince Ivar good?” Angelika asked you as you were rereading the last line you had written, almost throwing the feather out of your hands at the boldness of your handmaiden.

“None of your business” you replied, sharply, trying to focus again your attention on the letter, but Angelika smirked like a feline who knew that had hit a sore spot.

“… oh c’mon… don’t you want to tell me all the lovely moments you shared?” she continued on poking on you “… is he even able of some romance?”.

“Why isn’t Lia or Arabella here?” you wondered, raising your eyes up to the sky, annoyedly, although you were almost tempted to confess her the way you had felt for Ivar.

You had never had friends to who you could confess your own emotion and thoughts.

Your father’s court was a nest of snakes.

You had learnt early not to trust anybody with most of your thoughts.

You had grown up guarded, except with your sisters.

And without them you found yourself uneasy, both because you couldn’t talk with anybody about how you felt and both because the sole thought of confessing everything that was going through your mind tempted you and hurt you at the same time.

“… they are at training” she explained, although that annoying smirk didn’t leave her face.

“Why aren’t you there with them?” you commented, spitting the same softened venom you used for her.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt myself” she shot back tightly, and then she moved to highlight her face “… I wouldn’t want to ruin the only precious thing I own”.

“Dashing” you muttered, but it was only partially venomous, since you couldn’t help but notice the sad truth in her words: women truly didn’t own much but their beauty in this sick world “… it was nice… with prince Ivar”.

Her eyes caught fire at that small affirmation.

“Did you kiss him?”.

Now you were burning red hot and the letter was forgotten on your desk, and you turned quickly to her, definitely giving her the answer she was looking for and with a very ungraceful movement, she fell with her back on the side of your bed, laughing loudly.

“Oh Gosh! You kissed the heathen!”.

“Lower your voice, Angelika” you ordered her, although it was more an ashamed shriek, as the handmaiden didn’t even try to shut her sharp mouth “Somebody will hear!”.

“As if kissing your husband was something to be ashamed …” commented the same girl who had called your husband a ‘monster’ “… unless he is a bad kisser that is”.

Your cheeks reddened further and Angelika sent you a look as if to ask if she had guessed right, but you just shook your head, leaving your chair and your letter, since your head didn’t seem to have any idea on how to continue, your mind taken back to what it had felt with Ivar.

The gentleness and the respect his exploration had given you, as he softly took your lips in his, in a soft pressure that almost made you taste heaven.

And yet that same kiss opened the doors of hell beneath you.

But had you ever cared for that?

“… he is very good” you commented, not knowing fully why your lips were felt so loose all of a sudden “… but… I am not… as versed as him…”.

“… why doesn’t that surprise me?” replied the other girl, before she made you fall with a quick grab on your waist, so that you were at them same level, something that made you extremely nervous, never having been this close to another girl that wasn’t blood-related with you.

And after Caryn’s betrayal, the proximity hurt you even more.

But Angelika’s eyes were captivating and soon the embarrassment slowly eased up.

“… I could teach you” now they held the same wickedness of a big cat “… we could practice together”.

The suggestion made you redden significatively and you threw her a shocked expression, immediately raising yourself up, as she erupted in laughter.

And although you knew she was teasing you, it wasn’t insulting.

“Thank you for the suggestion, but no” you commented tightly, as you adjusted yourself, in a seated position, right when Turid opened the tent to check in whether you were comfortable to talk with Heahmund.

You blushed but nodded, excusing Angelika off, as you adjusted your hair, already knowing that your outfit of the day would have shocked enough the bishop, since you hadn’t changed from the outfit you had worn for your walk with Ivar.

Angelika moved annoyedly away, meanwhile Turid pushed Heahmund in, taking her leave, alongside Angelika, although her eyes shone of wickedness and you weren’t sure about whether she’d just leave, or she’d spy onto the conversation.

“… it is good to see you safe and sound” commented tightly the bishop, as he immediately came to you, kneeling before you and kissing your hand as a sign of respect, but you kept your eyes tight on him, steely and royally pissed “… I have heard that the scouting army came to check on you, my lady…”.

“Thank to you” it was a sarcastic mutter, and Heahmund soon noticed it, raising his head, to finally notice your bad humor.

“You aren’t happy with my actions, princess” his voice was almost a reprimand in itself and you held his glare, as you pushed out your breath, straightening your back.

“… not in the slightest, bishop” you replied, hissing through your teeth, something of your stance taking after the postures you had seen in Ivar “… you called my father, before even trying to help me”.

“I wouldn’t have done it, had I had any other choice!” he protested “… the Vikings wouldn’t let me see you and neither hear me, and let me tell you I couldn’t think of any other choice than to ask your father”.

Although you absolutely recognized Heahmund’s reasonings, his act had damaged you greatly, almost making you risk your life again.

Had he been truly worried for you, he’d have asked anybody but your father, since it was instead clear that his letter hadn’t been a scream of help for your own health, but a worry for your purpose in the settlements.

And it hurt you, although you knew that to your father and him you didn’t matter much more than for what you could give to them both.

“… next time you have to send a letter to my father, you’ll ask me or my handmaidens before” your voice this time didn’t ask for any replies, as it became steely rigid and strong “… and from now on if I ever catch on any information I’ll be the one to send you letters, there will be no need for you to come here”.

Heahmund’s eyes spoke of his complete humiliation at those orders followed by a blinding rage, but he simply nodded, bowing and taking his leave without being excluded.

“Bishop Heahmund” you called him one last time “… my father might not care the destiny that befell me, but let me tell you that I am much more influential than my position might let you think. For now, I have the strength to make this mission end well or badly, and I won’t undervalue it”.

“Understood” that was what you wanted to hear, and you excused him, dropping on the bed, as you had done with Angelika, feeling a series of emotion that made you almost nauseous for the various shifting they did in your mind.

You had always known that your life mattered little in your father’s hands, but you hadn’t thought it was that little, enough that you weren’t in charge of your own decision.

And that if you had overstepped your boundaries, your father would have gladly left you to die.

It hadn’t passed unnoticed to you that Alexander had said that it had been Alfred who had sent the army, because of Kathleen’s talks.

You already knew that your father didn’t care for you, even more for the shame you would have brought on his line, getting caught so early, before you could be truly useful.

He wouldn’t have taken you back, ever, now that you were tainted.

You knew that if you didn’t die on this mission by Ivar or his men’s hands, you father would have taken the thing in his own hands.

And had he ever taken pity on you, he wouldn’t have allowed much more than a shed in the wood, with no help except yourself to witness your slow death.

You had never thought that your Destiny would have been so horrible.

But now all the signs showed that no matter the momentary peace you were having, you would have had an unhappy ending.

You had been too busy with making Ivar like you at first and then protecting your own ass, but now that you thought about it, it just…

… it made you feel hollow.

Not because you were scared of death.

In death you would have found your mother again, and you would have been free from the pain of your earthly body.

But did your life matter so little truly?

A few weeks ago you thought that your life did matter so little, since in the end there wasn’t much you could bring to the table, still now you found it difficult to find yourself worthy of your title and life.

But Ivar’s words spoke to your mind, alongside the small goals you had accomplished in the camp, defeating Halfdan and Harald, creating your own court and making yourself known, as you spied on it.

You were training, your body was becoming stronger and you had found yourself being smart enough to find a solution, to talk with Ivar and be appreciated by him, because although he might not have felt love for you, he clearly admired your ways.

You could have allied with Ivar to avoid such a pitiful ending.

You could have confessed what you had been obliged to do, hoping in his anger he might see the advantage of having you by your side, although you couldn’t offer much more than your brain and your pretty face.

But what would have been of your sisters?

They would have been left to rot, maybe your father would have killed Abigail, since she wasn’t useful to him or his heir.

And you wouldn’t have survived it.

One thing was to play with your life, another was to play with your sisters’.

“… are you alright?” you were brought back by your awful thought by Hvitserk, as you immediately pushed yourself in a seated position, trying to shift away a grimace from your face as he walked in “… did the priest annoy you? Ivar will have him killed…”.

“That’d be a relief” you commented darkly, surprising the ever-cheerful Hvitserk, but then a pure look of focus fell onto his face “… I was joking”.

“Just give me the order, princess”.

“… I won’t forget it” you smiled at him sadly, as you got up, thinking that if you had spent more time with this situation on your mind, you would have probably ended up with your head growing as big as an oak.

It was better to train a bit to release the feeling of dreariness your heart held at the moment, ignoring the unfinished letter, since you didn’t know anymore what words to find.

“… did you and my brother fight?” he asked, trying to urge you in talking, seeing that you were quite unresponsive “… because I thought you looked pretty cozy back then, in the field…”.

You blushed red till even your ears were of that color.

“No, we didn’t fight…”.

“Then did you kiss?” now you were going to surely pass out from your overheated cheeks, since you couldn’t help but be embarrassed as you remembered the notion of having been caught in such a compromising position.

“… why is everyone so obsessed with knowing the details of my private life?” you muttered loudly, sending Hvitserk a pointed look, but he, exactly like Angelika didn’t back down.

“Oh please” pleaded Hvitserk, pushing his hands in a mocking pleading pose “… pretty please (Y/N) give me something to tease my brother with”.

“You won’t find an ally in me for annoying your brother” you retorted, with a tight smirk, as you pushed him lightly away, gaining a gleaming look from Hvitserk.

“… oh, pretty please, my princess” he insisted making you huff out loudly.

“Annoy your brother and not me” you simply finished the conversation, although you couldn’t help but be feel yourself a bit calmer.

But those horrible thoughts you continued on having quite the influence on you, hanging on your head like a Damocles’ sword.

“… then at least let me know when you and Angelika will practice kissing”.

You couldn’t help but be shocked by this confession, even more as you realized what Hvitserk had to do to hear those words.

He had listened on your conversation.

“… did you…” your voice choked in worry, and you tried to shove it down “… did you overhear what I was talking about with Angelika?”.

Hvitserk seemed to feel your uneasiness and quickly pushed up his hands as if to defend himself.

“… I just was by the tent” he commented tightly “… I left before the priest entered, wouldn’t want to ruin the secret of your confession?”.

A tight grimace was welcomed by a blanker expression, as you tried to calm yourself down, glad that he hadn’t heard of your talking with Heahmund.

“Don’t listen on any of my conversation” you replied biting your lips, as you pointed out each word “… because if you do, I’ll put poison ivy in your bed”.

“Oh, I am used to it, it won’t affect me anymore” he grinned wickedly, but you had another idea, as you raised up from the bed, knowing perfectly that Hvitserk would follow, as you exited the tent.

“Then I’ll curse you” your words were light and easy, unlike his meaning.

And Hvitserk’s grin dropped quickly.

“… how… how would you do that?” he asked, as you simply moved forward, and he kept on running after you till the stable, meanwhile you muttered something in Latin.

‘Rosa, rosae, rosae…’.

And he simply looked at you with worried eyes.

“… what was that?”.

“Just a little warning” you commented, getting Bukefalos out of his stables.

“… you are joking, aren’t you, (Y/N)?”.

But you ignored him, and before you knew it you heard him cursing loudly as he accidentally pressed his boot in horse shit.

Sometimes curses didn’t have to be real to work.

---

Training with Nanna had destroyed you and as you had been forced to attend dinner in the main hall, you had almost fallen asleep with your head in the soup.

Nanna had insisted on training double, since you hadn’t attended the previous lesson, something that left you breathless and tired, even more since you had been forced to move from the defense to attack stances, something that made you uneasy, to say the least.

You didn’t feel comfortable in the slightest using violence against anybody, because not only being attacked reminded you of your father, but knowing how to kill wouldn’t have made you similar to that man you dreaded the absolute most?

‘Why do I have to learn how to attack others?’ you had muttered to Nanna, as the woman tried to teach you how to properly punch somebody, reminding you of taking the thumb out of the fist.

She had seemed to almost take personal offense to that.

‘… how do you expect to maintain your throne if you don’t fight’.

You had explained to her, that you had your own throne set up and you hadn’t much to worry, although all your thoughts of the previous afternoon weren’t comforting in the slightest.

‘… you should actually worry about your throne, even more with an husband like that’ her comment about Ivar had appeared bitter and you had tried your best to nod your head softly, taking in what looked like interesting information ‘… Ivar wants the crown’.

‘He already has it’ you had mumbled ‘… he is a prince, with numerous victories and conquered lands on his part’.

‘… and he wants more’ she had simply replied, her lips turning in a bitter expression ‘… he wants the crown of Kattegat, which Lagertha, the current queen of Kattegars, his father’s land, is withholding away from him, and believe me, he’ll fight for it and you’ll have too’.

You hadn’t replied anything anymore, although the knowledge of Ivar’s plans didn’t make you in any way more comfortable or less at uneasy about this entire day, and you almost wished it’d just be over soon.

But it certainly all explained why the brothers’ relationships were so tense among them.

And why Ivar had called you ‘queen’.

You felt him nudging you lightly, as you stood with the spoon so close and yet so far away from your mouth, stopped midair.

You quickly pushed the soup in your mouth, grimacing at the fact that the soup had grown cold, but forcing a few more bites of it on your mouth, because although you weren’t hungry, your body needed some food.

“… want me to feed you” commented Ivar, with a smirk on his face as he drunk a cup of ale, meanwhile you sent him a light glare, through your hooded eyes, pushing a final spoon past your lips, keeping it there, as you sleepily looked for a small towel to clean your face “… it has been a tough day, we’ll go to sleep, as soon as you are done with food”.

“Can you pass me your crutch? I might need it to go back” you mumbled, as you leaned lightly on him, for the simple fact that he was damnably warm and you were lightly cold from the bath you had done before coming there, your hair lightly damp, but pushed in a soft updo to dry them faster.

“… you certainly didn’t lose your humor alongside your appetite” he laughed, before he took in your hand to help you up, excusing you and him from his brothers, who barely sent him a look, except Hvitserk who told him that ‘he shouldn’t work you so hard’ and ‘he should give you a break’, in a way that seemed to reference to something that you and Ivar had never done together.

“… Hvitserk, want anymore horseshit?” you mumbled, unable to withhold any curtesy, something that got to Hvitserk quickly as he sat back down, meanwhile you felt Ivar hide a small smirk behind his hand.

The rest of the walk was done in silence, as you slumped next to each other, your handmaidens welcoming you inside, and you dismissed them, giving them some orders for tomorrow, as you felt a strange agitation brewing among them since, the following day, you were supposed to be choosing a dress for the party that was to be held in three days.

The girls had been told that they could have chosen a dress each in order to properly take part to the celebrations, and they had been thrilling happily for the whole afternoon, and you doubted they’d be able to sleep, too excited for the dresses.

Unlike you.

You unfastened Ivar’s braces, noticing that although he had humored you back at the dinner table, he now seemed almost distant to you, and you didn’t know if he was simply tired or there was something more.

But at the same time, deep down, you knew that with Ivar there was something more.

He was already in bed, when you finished brushing your hair and you were in your nightgown, dragging your heavy limbs towards the bed, as you sat on its end, being able to face Ivar, who looked extremely surprised by your position.

“Is anything wrong?” you thought about asking, although Ivar simply shook his head “… is it… is it for Alexander?”.

You had hit straight up in the bullseye, with the way his eyes shone of true annoyance.

“… we are solely friends” you commented “… I was a lonely child and he was the only one who indulged in silly games”.

Still silence, and you thought that if it had to go on like this, you had to drop the big news.

“… and I did have a slight infatuation on him, back then”.

This got to him, finally.

He simply moved to push himself in a seated position.

“… do you still like him?” it was a demand that made you laugh, as Ivar looked at you extremely serious.

“As a friend, but nothing more than that” you simply stated “… I… was a gullible girl, back then… and he was so handsome…”.

“I am not interested in hearing it” he commented with a rather sour tone, and you couldn’t help but smirk lightly, as you moved to settle closer to him, till you were eye-to-eye.

He tried to push himself away, but you held him in place.

“… it wasn’t love, it was a simple crush” you explained “… he broke my heart and I realized how hollow my feelings for him truly were. And from then on, it was only friendship from me”.

Ivar’s gaze seemed to lightly calm itself, although he didn’t look convinced.

“You have nothing to fear, truly”.

“Yeah, the cripple has for sure nothing to fear” he commented grumpily and you brought him instead to look at you in the face, not wanting this to push something between you, when you were so close with him.

Your life was a mess and strangely that blue-eyed heathen was the only relief you had been getting, lately.

The only good thing.

And this close, you wanted to kiss him.

Again, and again.

“… if it makes your ego feel better, I found you more handsome than Alexander” you confessed, as you gently moved an hand on his partially unbuttoned tunic, gently nearing the naked skin, as you felt Ivar take a sharp intake of breath.

“Don’t make fun of me” he commented loudly, making to turn around, but you stopped him and you made him look at you in the eyes.

“… I don’t” you muttered “… from the moment I saw you, I just found myself fascinated with you”.

He blushed, although he didn’t look convinced.

“I now love Alexander, with the same intensity I love Hvitserk, so you shouldn’t worry” you adjusted yourself to slip under the cover, moving closer to Ivar to make him avoid pushing you away “… there isn’t anything you should be worried about”.

“… because you are so enamored with me” he uttered sarcastically, and although you knew that it was damnably wrong both for your beliefs and both for the fact that you would have to betray him, you were starting to slowly feel something for him.

“I am starting to be…” you admitted, and you knew that any disbelief Ivar had pushed itself away, at your tender expression, something that you wouldn’t have been able to fake.

Gently a hand of his threaded its way through your hair, as he brought you closer, pressing softly your lips against his, something that made smile brightly, as you embraced him loosely.

If this life of yours would end up in a painful way, you’d enjoy all the pleasure you found.

That tender kiss was followed by a few more, till you were comfortably snuggled in Ivar’s arms, as you giggled at his bold gestures, eventually settling on a kiss to your forehead, insisting you both fell asleep, before it was too late.

But your body ached for more, definitely awake.

“… but seriously Ivar, I don’t… I don’t feel bad for you, and this isn’t pity” you muttered, tantalizing brushing your lips together, as he tightened his grip on your hair “… you are… different that is right, but you aren’t… you are more than anybody else because of that, I am sure, I swear it on the crown”.

He looked at you intensely and again you couldn’t understand what was going through his head, but you knew you had to say it.

The knowledge of your imminent death suddenly making you bold.

“… you are starting to blabber silly things, wife, you must be truly tired” he commented, but his eyes shone of true thankfulness, as he kissed your nose, tickling you softly, as he brought you closer, almost as if you were his own pillow “… go to sleep, lovely”.

“I like it when you call me that” you softly muttered, but closed your eyes and sleep took you over.

---

You slept comfortably, although it wasn’t anything more than an endless slumber, black but relaxing.

Your limbs felt as heavy as iron, and as you moved on your side to find a more comfortable pose, grimacing at the pain that shot from a small hit you had received the previous day, meanwhile you were training with Lia.

The handmaiden had tried to apologize, but you had simply complimented her on her strong right hook, making her laugh awkwardly, as she checked your face for any improper reply.

You felt Ivar matching your movements, bringing you back to his chest, as he softly moved you closer, making you smirk.

A week before he had been so cold with you, enough to make you feel at great unease, but now…

… he was cuddling you closer, as if you were of extreme value.

“… would you mind staying still?” he commented, making you well aware that he had woken up at the same time you had turned around, his grouchy voice making you rub unconsciously your legs together.

“It is late” you commented, seeing the sun pouring up through the thick veils of your tent, but what made you aware that you had both overslept was the fact that you could hear the life of the settlement moving up all around you.

Something that you strangely found familiar.

“… don’t you have some mischievous plan to plot?” you teased Ivar, feeling him growl annoyedly at your comment, as he turned on his back.

“You are devious” he lightly pinched your side, making you elbow him right back, although you laughed loudly “… and I do have things to do, but I don’t… I don’t want to get up”.

The confession made your body tremble lightly, because it felt truly heartfelt.

You knew that Ivar had some kind of infatuation with you or with at least the artificial version of you he had in his mind.

And you had survived for that, among the Vikings.

But his latest comment felt damnably true, as if both your feelings for each other were becoming… real.

And it almost scared you.

“… me neither” you mumbled, as his head shot to you, surprised by your own admission, finally bringing you closer as you felt the cleavage of your nightgown slide down and the part on your legs riding up “… but if I don’t bring my handmaidens to Hilde, this morning, they’ll organize a conspiracy against me”.

“I doubt it” protested Ivar loudly, pushing himself softly onto you, to physically prevent you from raising yourself “… they are all enamored with you”.

“Uh uh” you nodded lightly, as your eyes twinkled lightly “… I can actually think of a few people that don’t want me here”.

His eyes became sharp, as you commented that, a threat in them.

Not against you.

But against anybody who had dared hurting you.

Part of you almost wanted to confess him the pain your father had made you undergo, alongside the one that would happen when all of this was over.

Because you knew that he’d shelter you form that.

“… you are very much wanted here” he breathed on your lips, as he lightly pushed your hair away from your face, with a delicateness that made you blush, as you leaned in his hand “... please stay this morning in bed”.

“I can’t” you bit your lips, feeling like it was a true ache to your chest.

But you knew that you couldn’t indulge any longer.

You had to finish the letter to send to Alexander before lunch time, since you had asked him to join you for lunch and you had to go to Hilde, since she had already sent you a small note to let you know that she had a dress for you.

The fact that you hadn’t asked one made you a bit confused by the request of the tailor, but you loved deeply the creations she had gotten for you, hence you couldn’t deny her.

“… what if I made you stay” and then he was on top of you, a pleasurable oppression, that made you laugh, as his hands went to tickle your side, a playful side of him coming out as you tried to kick him away, completely exiting the fight disheveled, but victorious, once you put one of your cold feet on his chest.

“I won’t tell anybody that I won” you promised him with a teasing smirk on your face, as you finally managed to slip away from his hold, although you had to admit that it was definitely less warm than Ivar’s arms, who simply pouted at you.

“… I let you win” he stated, with a stubborn look, as you simply showed him your tongue, making him crack a laugh “… ok ok, I’ll let you go, but give me a kiss first”.

“Say ‘please’ ” it was almost natural, the banter between you, and Ivar shot you a quick look, before he added:

“… give me a kiss, please” and you did.

You leaned in, being the first one that initiated the kiss between you, and it was tender, as Ivar this time was mindful of his tongue, preferring to suck on your upper lip and then bottom one, before you tried something, something that you had solely read about: you bit his lower lip, dragging it through your teeth, as you moved away from the kiss.

Ivar growled and soon he was yanking on your hands, not delicately in the slightest, but you found yourself not caring at all, when he returned the favor, biting you back, although his hold didn’t bruise, but it certainly made you moan softly.

And then he was away from you, your own punishment for having chastised him away quickly this morning, having denied him.

“… don’t you have somewhere to be?” he teased you, as you shot him annoyed look, but eventually moved out of the bed.

“You are impossible” you retorted, but before you turned completely, you saw the way his eyes flickered with interest for you.

“Don’t spend your entire dowry my wife” he commented, staying in bed like a playful cat, as he stared up at you.

“Fear not, husband” you replied tightly, as you moved to the chair in front of your private desk, brushing away your hair, and you adjusted back the few jewels you had started wearing, gently opening the tent to tell the awaiting handmaidens, Arabella and Angelika, that morning, to wait a few more minutes, giving Ivar the chance to hide in his private alcove, and set himself up.

You got ready quickly almost on your own, since you hadn’t chosen a particularly complex dress, knowing that you’d have to try another one on, so you settled for a simple cream-colored gown, with golden accents, but nothing that was too tight.

Although the fabric was rich, since you had to meet up with Alexander, having finished the letter, meanwhile Angelika adjusted your hair (she was strangely good at it) and Arabella made you choose which essence to wear on your skin, it wasn’t one of your most luxurious dress.

You had pushed it into Arabella’s hands, assuring her to give it to one of the guards for Alexander, hoping that they wouldn’t read what was inside, although you hadn’t written anything scandalous.

Once you were ready to go, Ivar exited his own private quarters, revealing that he had bathed himself, and was again pushing himself in the braces, adjusting them on his own.

“… I am leaving and I’ll be back again for dinner time” you saluted him, coming closer to him, till you were face to face, and he pushed a light kiss on your hands “… have a blessed day, Ivar”.

“You as well, lovely one”.

You blushed, before you moved with the two girls on your tail, Angelika again shooting you a knowing look, meanwhile Arabella moved to send the letter out.

You moved to Hilde’s shop, the small woman welcoming you eagerly, as the handmaidens slowly appeared, all knowing the hour to meet you at the stop, as quite the crowd gathered around.

“My queen, you look more beautiful each day passing” Hilde bowed to you, as you ushered her to stand, denying her words gently, but accepting her compliments “… and you certainly do not lack of a loyal entourage”.

“… and they are all excited to try on your dresses” you commented excitedly, as the woman quickly moved to look at the other girls, as if she was searching what might fit them more.

“Oh yes, I know” she commented, as she moved to look up at you “… I saw in my dreams a flock of swans coming to my lake, and I knew that you wouldn’t have been alone today, sweetheart”.

You blushed at the affectionate comment, before Hilde moved away from to you, to examine each girl, as they reacted strangely meanwhile the smaller Nordic woman went past them, pulling on their hair or grabbing their hands to see the inside of it, muttering things such as ‘royal blue would suit’ or ‘green eyes for a golden gown’.

You smiled, feeling a bit at ease seeing your handmaidens starting to chat among each other, almost as if nothing had changed from their courtly life.

Almost as if they had settled in, like you.

You were quickly distracted, finding yourself to think that although you had been damnably scared by the Viking life, you were slowly growing into it, with their loose dress and most importantly… pants.

Although you were still uneasy about the entire ‘godly parts’, mostly their rituals.

Talking with Ivar during dinner last night, you had discovered that they’d be offering a sacrifice to the gods, that to your honor would have been an animal and not a human.

The sole thought of a human being sacrificed made your stomach turn around, and you were grateful you hadn’t done breakfast, hoping to eat something at the small market in the settlement.

Thankfully your head was pushed away from this by Hilde’s hands, grabbing onto yours with a tight grip, as she dragged inside her small tent, getting a piece of fabric down from a metal hanger in the semi-darkness of the tent, allowing a bit of privacy as she closed the tent behind herself.

A clear invite to try on the dress, which you found quite difficult to fit on your body, unused to this shape, and when you got out, all your handmaidens came around you, Angelika and Arabella barely holding back a laugh, meanwhile Caryn moved to adjust it alongside Lia.

Solveig, instead, lightly combed your messed-up hair with her wrinkly fingers, laughing at you, and when you were halfway settled, you turned to look at yourself in the small mirror outside of her tent, and… blushed.

The dress was of a deep purplish red, the color of royalty, set up on your middle with a golden belt, that tightened the dress, although it was left lightly puffy on the chest, in asymmetric cut that resembled the many dresses you had seen in the pictures of books about ancient Greece.

The lower part wasn’t tight but held a slit to allow you a more comfortable walk, but also exposing so much skin that you weren’t exactly sure would have been thought to be appropriate.

And it made your nervous.

It was beautiful.

But you had never worn anything like this.

And you weren’t sure it fitted you, rightfully.

Although it highlighted perfectly your body, you weren’t sure you had been able to bring justice to it.

“… Hilde it is beautiful” you commented softly, as you turned to her, who smiled at you”…but I am not sure… I mean… I am not sure it is made for me”.

Hilde had seemed shocked and almost offended, and you had immediately tried to explain to her why you didn’t feel like this dress belonged to you, although it was one of the most beautiful you had ever worn.

“… my queen” called out to you Hilde, with her usual emphasis on your title-that-wasn’t-yet-your-title “… I see insecurity in your own body, your eyes tell me that you aren’t used, but you have nothing to hide. You shine with beauty inside and out”.

You couldn’t help but be taken back by that comment, although you weren’t fully convinced, looking at yourself again in the mirror and noticing every little flaw of your body, as you had always done.

“… the crazy tailor is right” commented Angelika in English, making you blush lightly, as you were surprised by her words “… I hate to admit it, but you are prettier than me in that dress”.

“Girls! Check her temperature!” you joked to try to shimmer away the blush you felt on your cheeks “… she must be sick for what she is saying”.

“… but you look very very pretty, princess (Y/N)!” commented one of the youngest handmaidens, making you smile, as you bowed lightly.

“Believe me that dress fit you perfectly, girlie” added Solveig, adjusting the dress so that it could flow around you more perfectly “… many years to adjust dresses and I know when one just is… the one”.

“Ok ok” you ended up saying, unable to think of another way to refuse the gentle women “… I’ll take it”.

A chorus of laughter and mumbles of assent welcomed you, as Hilde then moved to offer various suggestions to the girls, as they entered her tent, leaving it as gorgeous princesses and beautiful ladies, as they commented all on the easiness of the dresses, comfortable as they twirled barefooted.

You hadn’t ever thought of being able to laugh like this, without your sister.

And suddenly something felt heavy on your chest.

Abigail and Kathleen.

What were they doing right now?

Did Kathleen know already you were safe and sound?

You’d have to suggest to Alexander to send her a letter to let her know you weren’t at risk of death anymore.

The morning soon passed in a whirlwind of fabric and you insisting to pay Hilde at least for the dresses of your beloved handmaidens, to which the woman agreed, as she clasped tight onto your hand, making you lower yourself closer to her.

‘… hard times are coming for you, my little bird’ she spoke with a tender tone, as her eyes were truthful ‘… that’s why I want you to feel like a queen, because that’s what you are, and you should never ever forget it’.

And although you had never believed this kind of thing, the words left a bitter taste in your mouth, as you moved to the place where you were supposed to meet Alexander, accompanied by Eleanor and Caryn, as always keeping her promise of serving you, and although you wanted nothing more than to go back to the intimacy you had.

But it seemed impossible.

“Princess, do you think that it is proper to meet another man without prince Ivar’s approval?” asked softly Eleanor, the more demure of your handmaidens, with soft hips and an amber gaze, and although you cherished her sweetness, you shot her a slight look, before you commented.

“… if you won’t say anything, I won’t either”.

And Caryn’s eyes spoke of a complicity that you recognized.

And hope wouldn’t be mistaken.

You knew that asking Ivar Ivar’s permission would have been as useful as trying to make a hole in the water, and that if you hadn’t done this, Alexander would have thought that you were still under the influence of Ivar, and he would have prolonged his staying here.

And as much as it didn’t weigh on you, it certainly did weigh on your reputation among the Vikings.

And Alexander’s staying was damnably painful.

It reminded you of past times, of different times that wouldn’t have ever come again.

Thankfully Alexander was a gentleman and didn’t make you wait, as your handmaidens moved to adjust everything to leave you a bit of privacy, and your best friend courtly bowed to you, kissing your hand, as he took in your curious appearance.

“… might I say that I haven’t still wrapped my mind around the Viking fashion?” he commented making you laugh light and blush painfully as you felt inadequate in your dress “… yesterday you wore pants”.

“They are comfortable” you tried protesting “… but we aren’t here to talk about me”.

“We are, I mean… I was sent to see if you were in brilliant shape which I might confirm” he commented dashingly “… you look beautiful, my princess”.

A slight blush spread on your cheeks, but nothing in you fluttered the way it did when Ivar gave you a compliment, to prove further the fact that you didn’t feel anything anymore for Alexander.

“… I am happy of this” you replied “… they treat me well, they haven’t hurt me”.

“You have been involved in a conspiration because of your husband!” he tried to shout, as you shot him an apologetic look.

“:.. wouldn’t it have happened also if I had remained in court?” you shot back, knowingly, as Alexander lightly hung his head between his shoulders as if he had been defeated.

“That’s why I told my father that I won’t take on his role till he dies…” he mumbled, as his eyes shot away from you and onto the land that bordered the Viking settlements “… I don’t want to be corrupted by any of that…”.

“… shit?” you tempted him, as this time it was his cheeks that blushed lightly.

“They corrupted you”.

“Actually… Kathleen taught me that” you replied, as he shot you an even more surprised look.

“Oh Gosh, have I missed you princess (Y/N)”.

---

The lunch had been quite satisfying and you had been glad to spend some time with Alexander, although the notion that he’d go back to England, and that you’d stay here was almost painful.

Training and the harmless chatter among your handmaidens felt comfortable to forget, but when you were left alone to wait for Ivar, who planned your return to Kattegat with his brothers, bad thoughts crowded your mind.

Not even your beloved books could satisfy you, and you were left to do nothing more than think about what would have happened if anything had happened to you once all of this was over and how guilty you felt at betraying Ivar, although you were doing it for the greater good.

Or at least this is what you said.

You were readjusting yourself on the bed for the fifth time, after you had sent both Turid and Solveig away, although the latter had made a small herb brewing to ease your soul.

Turid, instead, had been a quite peaceful presence, although you had started learning her way of communicate her needs, mostly noticing the way her eyes would follow lingering closer prince Hvitserk, when he came to eat with you in your tent.

And you had the good thought to tell him to keep his hands to himself, if he wanted to keep them.

Ivar caught you in a rather awkward position trying to read, as he walked in, unable to withhold a small smirk, as you readjusted with your cheeks full of red blush, trying to shimmer away the attention, telling him that Hvitserk had dropped some dinner also for him…

… hadn’t he decided to steal it, at the last minute.

‘… what a thoughtful thing’ he commented, joining you on bed, as you scrunched your nose to tell him not to drop anything on the clean sheets, since as much as you wouldn’t be the one changing them, you didn’t like to use Solveig or Turid more than necessary.

They had also had a dress, although both had insisted against it, saying they were low thralls born in slavery who had both grown up with nothing as precious as the dresses, but you couldn’t deny that they were part of the familiar group you had been slowly creating.

Turid with her comforting presence and Solveig with wisdom.

“… I’ll be careful” he commented softly, a light shiver going down your spine at that scruffy mumble “… but is everything alright with you?”.

“Just too many thoughts in my little head” you mumbled, softly, meanwhile Ivar basically ate the whole piece of meat in one bite, turning to you at that affirmation, as you moved to come to his side.

“… your head isn’t little, I think it is quite the contrary” he replied, gently kissing it, once he cleared his mouth ruthlessly on his dirty tunic, and you giggled scooting away, although the gesture had been quite welcome “… but that can be a curse, because it does indeed open us to too many thoughts and it is tiring”.

“You can say that”.

“Can I help you with your thoughts?” spoke tightly Ivar, as his eyes looked at you as if he wanted to know them but knew not to step further on your boundaries.

“I don’t think that there is much that will help me” you muttered sadly, leaning lightly your hand on his shoulder “… do you know something that might make me think about everything else than what is stuck in my mind”.

“… I might have a few ideas” and a few moments after you were set in front of a chess board, one of the many gifts that your father had brought to Ivar for your hand in marriage.

The figures were refinished but also long-lasting, as you examined through your fingers, meanwhile Ivar started to explain you the game and you felt the utter satisfaction of tell him that ‘you did know how to play’.

‘Who taught you?’ he had asked, meanwhile he adjusted the pieces on the board, him being the black ones and you the white ones,

‘Nobody, except myself. My father would have me and my sisters in the same room with him, meanwhile he played it, and I slowly took in his playing and strategies’.

What you were less happy was the fact that Ivar played much more brilliantly than your father, and soon you had two lost games on your shoulders.

‘This doesn’t make me feel better in the slightest’ you mumbled annoyedly, meanwhile Ivar set up the board again, laughing at your comment ‘… you should let me win’

“… that wouldn’t make it very fair”.

“But it would make me feel better”.

He laughed, before leaning in and pecking softly your lips, for the first time without you asking or igniting the kiss, something that made you cherish its sweetness and the comfortable way he was starting to make you feel around him.

“… just focus a bit more”.

And you did, trying to focus on the strategy that Ivar used, since although he was brilliant, his schemes were recurring and you had to break them, playing dirty as you smirked at Ivar, lowering lightly one sleeve of your nightgown, adjusting it meanwhile Ivar lost his bishop.

And then his king.

He looked displeased of having lost, but it didn’t take him long to calm himself, as he saw the sweet smile that appeared on your lips, and you had to admit that your mind was a bit less clouded, as you asked him again to play another game.

‘… I am feeling giddy over having won the great Ivar The Boneless, now you can’t seriously expect me to go to sleep’.

And you had played till very deep in the night, enough that you had both fall asleep on the board, risking a few pieces falling down the bed as you woke up with your back aching but strangely relaxed, Ivar’s hands having drifted gently onto yours, almost touching.

“… if anybody asks…” he muttered, before you both dove under the covers “… we slept like this because we were both tired and not because we spent the entire night playing chess”.

“Understood, my prince” you commented, finishing the deal with a soft kiss on his cheek, as he blushed, laughing lightly “… we could have breakfast in bed, I’ll just have to tell Turid, if you want to readjust the covers in the meanwhile…”.

“That seems lovely” he commented, before his gaze caught onto you “… you are lovely”.

“I doubt it” you moved away, to hide your blushing cheeks, meanwhile Ivar instead brought you closer to him, pushing you onto his laps, as you immediately hid your face between your fingers.

“… you look beautiful” he tried to push your hands away, meanwhile he brought you closer “… (Y/N) the Lovely, that’s what they should call you”.

“That sounds tantalizing delightful” you commented, trying to get away from him, as suddenly your mind became awake with horrible thoughts, thoughts about the fact that Ivar didn’t know that your beauty was nothing but a front.

Whatever he found beautiful in you, would have been his damnation.

“You are tantalizing delightful” he said it in English, making you tremble at his thick accent, before he let you up, a slight blush on his own face, as you felt his lower body against you, a sensation that made you giddy, but you quickly set up to your own mission, meanwhile Ivar did his.

You covered yourself with a thick woolen mantle, not trying to think about the sinful way you had almost wanted Ivar a few minutes ago, but you honestly should stop, if not for yourself, for some correctness for him, who seemed thoroughly enamored with you.

And he was starting to like you for you.

And it was a beautiful sensation for somebody who had never had something like that, but you felt like you were leeching on that love.

And it pained you.

Turid was already awake and was more than happy to steal a few sweets from you, meanwhile Solveig gave a few orders around, mostly because Hilde had sent the dresses and they had to be adjusted and brought to its rightful owner.

You were glad to help her a bit, not fully knowing why you didn’t feel comfortable approaching Ivar yet, not after your small dialogue.

“… slept well, my lady?” piped in Angelika, strangely already awake, as she set beside you and Solveig.

“Heavenly” you muttered, hissing through your teeth.

“… you should learn when to speak and when to keep your mouth closed” muttered in Norse Solveig, getting surprised when Angelika shot her an annoyed look, obviously annoyed and completely understanding what the Viking thrall said.

“And you that I can completely understand you” retorted Angelika with the fakest smile, as Solveig shot her one poisonous of her own, something that made you move between them, before things could escalate.

“… calm down” you commented to both “… it is just morning”.

“It is never too early for anything” Angelika replied, before moving away, as Lia came to get her in an attempt to avoid any fights, for which you were thankful “… and I am joining you this afternoon, for the training”.

She said it almost as if she was the leader, the princess of the castle, and you were able to simply nod.

You were almost thankful when Turid came back with the breakfast, warning Solveig to avoid Angelika, as the old woman simply shot you another look as if to say that ‘she had handled worse’.

You moved back in the tent, surprised not to see Ivar, but you quickly heard water splashing, as your private bathroom was lightly closed by the rough piece of fabric that divided it from the rest of the tent, thick enough to hide from the gaze.

But not from the ears of others.

In fact, you heard a few grumbles, that became suddenly more animalistic gruntles, something that made you question whether Ivar was hurt, as you lightly called out his name, the noises from the bathroom completely disappearing.

Ivar replied tightly, his voice slightly high and feminine, as he invited you to start eating without me.

‘Just leave me something, little beastie’.

‘Don’t even try’ you replied, forgetting quickly about the strange behavior of Ivar, simply thinking that he was bathing, and the grumbles and grunts were due to his strain in moving around the bathtub.

On his most tired days, he’d need also help.

It was confirmed as Ivar came back, his hair lightly wet, as he slithered around the bed, since he hadn’t worn his braces, to come up to you, raising himself onto the bed, solely through the help of his arm, a show that made you hot and bothered, as you blushed at that wondrous sight.

“… did I ruin your appetite?” mumbled grumpily Ivar, as he saw that you had stopped eating to observe him, something that made you almost choke on what you were eating “… well that is the most dramatic reaction I ever got”.

But he gently offered you ale, that you refused, and once you were able to breath without tasting the sweet in your nose, you moved to softly lean in, closer to him, reassuring him physically that he didn’t disgust you, since you were slowly starting to understand that with him anything physical was more effective than words.

“I was actually admiring you” you commented coyly, seeing a slight blush appear on his cheeks.

“… admiring me?”.

“Yes” you nodded softly, as you took one of the sweets, and moved to feed it to Ivar, who seemed an hungry and curious beast, looking at you with smart eyes, as you moved to gently slip the sweet past his plump lips “… you must have noticed that I might have a slight fascination with your muscles”.

“You do?” there was genuine surprise in his eyes, as you lightly retreated the sugary treats from his lips, before they could wrap around it.

“… I do” you were now suddenly the one all blushy.

And Ivar looked all smug about it, as he moved to softly bit onto the treat in your hand, but you quickly moved it away from him, before pushing it onto your mouth.

He shot you an offended look and then he turned to you and before you knew it, he pushed you down the bed, playfully, properly pinning you down, as you laughed softly, but were quickly shut up by Ivar kissing you.

And he chased the taste of the sweet in your mouth, as you laughed softly, at the affection.

“… you are an hungry minx” he commented, as he grabbed a sweet, meanwhile you were too taken aback by the kiss to properly react like a human creature “… but I am glad you like my muscles”.

“Don’t push it” you muttered, knowing that you had dug your own tomb.

“Oh, I will” he replied, kissing your forehead “… I’ll walk shirtless simply for the pleasure of teasing you princess”.

“That’d definitely help me with my bad thoughts”.

You both erupted in laughter, as you exchanged sweets and kisses.

And then Ivar left you, surprising you one last time, as he told you that he had taken it upon himself to invite Alexander over for dinner, which surprised you, but Ivar simply told you that it was better ‘to keep your enemies closer’.

And although you were glad that you hadn’t to undergo anything unknown to Ivar to see your friend, you had a bad feeling about it.

But you didn’t say much more to Ivar, as you said your ‘goodbyes’ to him with a soft kiss, that Ivar deepened dirtily, making you moan softly, something that brought a beautiful color on your cheeks.

That Hvitserk noticed immediately as he come to lounge in your tent, in a vague attempt of stealing the leftovers of your breakfast with Ivar.

‘… you got the hots for my brother, don’t you?’ he commented, before he seemed to rethink over the words he had said ‘… I never thought I’d say that’.

“Then don’t say it” you mumbled, trying to appear busy as you wrote letters to your sisters, hoping that Alexander could bring them to their recipients “… don’t stick your nose in my business or…”.

“… or you’ll curse me, I know… I know” he muttered under his breath “… it is just that… I haven’t seen Ivar this happy in… so much… since…”.

“… since what?” you asked, your spying personality finally coming up as your ears peaked up, although your father’s own purposes were quite away from your own, in that moment, and you wanted to know it all just to make you understand more Ivar.

As a lover would do.

“… since our mother’s death” Hvitserk’s growl let out much more emotion than his eyes did, a tight smirk replacing his usual open smile “… he hasn’t thought about much else than his revenge, actually”.

“Revenge?” you felt almost dumbfounded discovering all of this “… on who?”.

You couldn’t help but feel a shrill of worry and fear, as if you were suddenly travelling in unknown territory and you weren’t sure to have the means to exit it.

“… on Lagertha, our mother’s murderer” he explained, almost as if it was a bitter bite, too much for him, sadly “… Ivar took it at heart especially, he and our mother, Aslaug had a close bond”.

“I am sorry for your loss, still” you commented softly, as you moved a hand to grip on Hvitserk’s one, who simply smirked sadly at you, exiting quickly your hold on his hand.

“It didn’t… it didn’t affect me as much as it affected Ivar” he simply justified it “… to me his crazy plan to get revenge is… crazy, indeed”.

You couldn’t help but see uneasiness and eagerness in Hvitserk’s eyes, almost as if he hadn’t ever been asked his opinion about this, and at the same time he ached for it, in a way that made everything unsolved.

“Christians frown upon revenge” you said, softly “… but I lost a mother and although revenge wouldn’t bring her back, I sometimes… I do understand why Ivar feels like that”

You knew that this was a deep confession for you, since you had never dared to admit your feelings against your father to anybody.

You knew that although he hadn’t killed your mother, his constant beatings had made her frail health even more at danger, and then one day they had been too much.

And your mother laid lifeless, white as a lily on her bed.

And you had cried your heart out.

Also fear had always shone in your eyes, and it had been confessed to your sisters, but you had never commented the anger against your father that brew inside of you, and suddenly was let out, as Hvitserk sent you a small surprised look, before you shook the bad feeling away from your face, feigning again innocence.

“… it is just that sometimes Ivar can be extreme”.

“On that I agree”.

“… is he also extreme in bed?” Hvitserk lightly wiggled his eyebrows, as you elbowed him, something that stole the breath away from the young boy.

“Why are you all so noisy?”.

“Because you are the wife of a prince” he smirked, before assuming a royal tone “… your own life doesn’t belong to you anymore, but to the people”.

“… that seems utter bullshit” your profanity made Hvitserk shoot a surprised look at your profanity “… I learned from the best”.

“I can’t believe that you think I am the best at something” Hvitserk crooked a soft a smile at you “… but this won’t avoid a talk about all the things that could embarrass my brother”.

“… you should stop doing that” the mutter left your mouth, and your brother-in-law looked at you confusedly “… trying to embarrass Ivar”.

“It is just brotherly teasing” he almost seemed annoyed by your noisy invasion.

“… not it isn’t” you commented tightly, because although you didn’t want to annoy Hvitserk “… I have sisters, and although you think that we, women, are tamer than you, believe me we are as ruthless as males if not more… and we don’t… sometimes with Ivar you seem a bit too mean”.

“… you don’t know him” Hvitserk’s anger shine his own words, and you knew that you should have kept your mouth shut.

“… I just know that it should be teasing and not anger” you commented and Hvitserk’s eyes lowered, almost admitting that you were right “… but what can I know, I am simply a stupid woman”.

That’s what your father would have told you.

But Hvitserk simply grabbed your hand this time.

“… you are a blessing, princess”.

---

The rest of the day had slowly moved itself in a monotonous pace, something that had made the dinner the most interesting part of the day, but as soon as Alexander moved in, completely closed off, you found yourself revaluing your excitedness.

‘Come, lord Alexander, or at least that is the title that my wife told me you own…’ commented Ivar, with a snobby smirk that made you also uneasy, and you shot him a light look to tell him to be ‘nice’ ‘… sit beside us, it’ll be our honor’.

Alexander hadn’t reacted in a better way, nodding as he bowed to you, but not to any of the brothers, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Ivar and Ubbe, both grimacing, meanwhile Bjorn looked too drunk for it as he talked with Halfdan and Hvitserk was already staring at a few of his ‘victims’ of the night.

You welcomed Alexander with an attentive mind, as he complimented your choice of dress, a deep maroon one, bordering with red, and lined with argent details, something that gave you a mature look, definitely more Saxon.

“… are you having a nice staying?” you asked softly, as you turned to Alexander, knowing that not many would approach him and that Ivar had already started a conversation with Ubbe, in Norse, probably talking shit about Alexander, if you were understanding right.

“I am, and the men are used to worse” joked Alexander “… the settlements seem… truly a work of art or… of the Devil”.

“That’s because you haven’t seen the marketplace” you commented gingerly, gaining an amazed look from Alexander “… I told you: they might be Vikings but they aren’t heathens”.

“And silly me who thought they were the same thing”.

The dinner continued among your chatters and your soft laughs, as Ivar sometimes would gently grip your hair or rub your thigh over your dress, almost a confirmation that you were still there.

That you were with him, beside him.

And you would answer, turning for a sweet smile solely for him.

And Alexander would roll his eyes.

But what got truly a reaction from him was when you revealed to him why you would be hosting celebrations, for the lands that you had given up on Ivar, as his eyes showed true offense.

“… why did you?!”.

“It’s no big deal, Alexander” you replied, trying to calm him down, meanwhile you saw heads turning to you and since your popularity rate was negative, you tried to avoid a scene “… he told he’ll give me back those lands”.

“… your lands, exactly!” he shouted, and Ivar behind you stiffened, his hand tightening around the knife on his side, and you comforted him with a quick look, as you invited Alexander out, your tight and strong tone surprising him enough that when realization kicked in, you were already out.

“You don’t understand Alexander” you commented once you were out of earshot “… I did this to keep you protected”.

“I should be the one doing it” also his tone was a bright hiss “… and I have been failing miserably at it”.

“I don’t need protecting” you replied tightly, surprised at those words, because had Alexander uttered the same words a few years ago you would have fallen in his arms.

But you had undergone so much that you felt numb.

And that you knew you could handle yourself.

Although it was ungrateful.

But Alexander’s behavior was out of line, completely.

“… it doesn’t seem so” his tone surprised you, because although you knew that Alexander could be arrogant, his tone now was down right derisive “… you have been involved in a conspiration and you have had to give up on lands that belonged to you by birthright”.

“But I am still alive!” you shouted, in exasperation, as he backed away from you “… it might seem idiotic, but let me tell you… I have survived so much that I know how to take care of myself”.

You hadn’t ever been that knowing of your willingness to live as in that moment.

And you had never felt that strong as in that moment.

And you looked like it straightening up your back.

You weren’t a pawn in this game anymore.

Since the conspiracy had set a target on your head, you had taken a more active role.

And you wouldn’t relent it.

“My father will probably has explained you why I am here truly…” you whispered lightly, trying not to be heard, although only night was around you “… he bargained my life with the devil. And let me tell you that I thought I’d have been destroyed, but I am here, I am still here”.

This was your own kingdom and you wouldn’t relent the crown easily, although you knew your role and you’d follow your father’s orders, but you wouldn’t tolerate the prejudices and prohibitions everyone around you gave you.

And then suddenly, before you could register his movements, Alexander was onto you.

He was kissing you.

And you were too surprised to react properly.

But something settled in you.

Dreariness of having been forced in the act, that made you immediately push away your old best friend, as you would have done with an attacker, focusing on the strength of your arms hitting him on the chest with your elbows, since he was stronger than you.

And then you felt free.

For the rest operated his surprise.

And soon he was off you.

And you couldn’t deny your surprise

As a feeling of hollowness settled on your stomach.

It was matched by the disgust on your lips at such a gesture, something that seemed more an arrogant claiming of you than a true kiss.

And you didn’t belong to anybody.

“… what?” you asked him, as you brought a hand to your lips, wondering whether it had happened or not, but the look of pure hurt on Alexander confirmed that he had indeed kissed you “… we can’t”.

“We could run away” now his eyes moved into an almost manic state, something that made you nervous “… we could run away and hide in my own lands”.

“We can’t” this time you weren’t hesitant and neither merciful “… we would be caught and believe me I just can’t leave now…”.

“… you don’t have to be your father’s spy” Alexander promised you “… this isn’t something that you have to do anymore, don’t you understand it? We can live in freedom”.

“As long as my father lives, there won’t be any freedom for me” your eyebrows furrowed annoyedly at the fact that Alexander just couldn’t understand.

You didn’t belong to anybody, but your body followed your father’s orders still.

But there was more behind it.

You didn’t want Alexander.

You weren’t in love with him.

And it wasn’t something you could fake.

“You have changed” his tone seemed almost a bittersweet reprimand “… before I left for Ireland, you wouldn’t have thought about running away with me”.

And as much as your words hurt you, you felt like they were the most appropriate.

“Before you left Ireland, I was in love with you”.

Before Ireland had been an era away.

If you had thought that entire years had passed since you had last been in England, among Saxons, and it was enough to change you completely.

But the truth is that you hadn’t changed much.

You had just scraped away the convictions and insecurities that had kept you tame.

Those words shocked Alexander, and this time he was the one who pushed himself away from you, shooting you a tight look, almost wounded, but you couldn’t live in a lie, even more when your heart was steering towards Ivar, although it shouldn’t.

You had to admit that you felt guilty for the kiss you had briefly shared with Alexander although it was unwanted.

“… and you aren’t anymore” he almost seemed heartbroken, as he got back from that angry stupor.

“I don’t think that it was love from the start” your voice were almost cutting in your own mouth “… and I know that you didn’t love me back then, we were simply good friends, and I had a crush on you, but you chased somebody else’s skirt”.

“You are bitter because I didn’t notice you back then?” his tone seemed almost spiteful, almost as insult for you.

“No, no” you spat back “… you did break my heart, but this doesn’t mean that I am trying to make you pay for it. I just… this isn’t… this isn’t anything personal, but my heart isn’t yours”.

“Is it that heathen’s?” this time his words were straight up insult, as he spat on the ground between your feet, making you tremble on your place “… I hope you won’t cry when he stabs you in the back”.

“Wife?” Ivar appeared behind the flap of the tent, right on time, as you shook your head to push back tears, walking across Alexander as you shot him a quick look “… is everything alright?”.

“I am just tired, me and Alexander have talked about important matters…” and you turned lightly at Alexander as if to tell him to keep his mouth shut “… thoughts that made me nostalgic”.

“Then I’ll lead you back to our tent” Ivar clashed his teeth together, as he sent a sour look at Alexander, as if he wanted to punish him for having made you sad, and Alexander withheld his gaze, and for a moment you thought there would be a blown out fight “… let’s go”.

You were glad to follow Ivar, feeling a horrible sensation in your chest due to Alexander’s words.

They made you feel like a traitor.

But you knew you were right.

You couldn’t reciprocate his feelings and it wouldn’t have been right for him to fake them.

Even more when he wanted a life that you couldn’t give to him.

“You look truly troubled” mumbled tightly Ivar, as he saw you dropping without too many ceremonies on your shared bed, his eyes following you attentively and you tried to shift away all those bad emotions, for a tight smile.

“I just miss my sisters and Alexander reminded me of them” you faked, although your tone sounded honest, since it had been something that you had been thinking lately, the date of your departure coming closer and closer.

Alongside whether your father would have acted before Ivar’s departure or he would have let you go away, in a new land, that was unknown to you.

“… you could visit them one day” Ivar’s words were careful, but meaningful and they surprised you, as you raised lightly to look at him in the eyes, to see if he had spoken the truth “… I know that you’ll miss them when we’ll be in Kattegat. We could visit the castle,or they could come here”.

“That’d ease my mind greatly” you replied softly “… thank you”.

Ivar’s lips gently blessed your forehead, before he went to change.

“… of course, they are your family, after all”.

And that was the last thing that you had heard before a quite slumber took you.

---

The following day had been intense, something that you had been grateful since this meant that you didn’t have to overthink Alexander’s words and that feeling of guilt you had in your chest.

You almost understood why Hilde had blessed you with that dress.

You were feeling truly shitty.

So, you were thankful when during the middle of the afternoon your handmaidens and you started getting ready for the feast, the girls all twirling in their dresses, once they had ruthlessly pushed both Ivar and Hvitserk away.

A few took care of your hair, making sure that the crown Ivar had gifted you shone in them, meanwhile others adjusted you in the dress.

You had allowed the handmaidens to borrow some of your jewels, and you had almost risked your arms being cut off when you opened the box with your most precious jewels, eventually settling up on one for each girls, trying to avoid fights.

It felt almost as your own court, with no envy and no injustices, no fear and no ignorance.

It almost made you feel pride for what you had done.

In the end you had chosen to wear the dress Hilde had gifted you, almost as a reaction to Alexander’s hateful words.

The dress would be your smart rebellion.

And as you shot one last look, once your hair was pushed up around the crown, meanwhile you wore the dress, matching it with deep rubies earrings, that brought attention to your face, giving it a clean look exposing every detail of your body, as Angelika reddened your cheeks with some natural color and Caryn highlighted with expertise your eyes with a bit of kajal.

Angelika wore a royal blue gown, which you found quite fitting for the royal-looking girl, sporting a necklace with a small sapphire at its center, bringing attention to her cleavage.

Meanwhile Caryn’s dress was light almost white, highlighting the darkness of her precious skin, in a contrast that would have blinded any man, hadn’t her beauty blinded them first, matched with a collier of silver gold.

You looked like a mix between heathens and Saxons, in something that you felt didn’t fail to represent the duality of your nature.

And you felt almost good, as you exited your tent, right in time to take part in the sacrifice, with a fur mantle on your dress, hiding it completely since that night was cold and wet, as your handmaidens scurried behind you, Solveig grabbing the light train of your dress to avoid it dirtying.

First of all, you knew that there’d be the ritual sacrifice, which would happen outside and then the dinner would happen, something that you were honestly looking forward, but for the entire ritual sacrifice, you stood by Ivar’s side, trying to keep your eyes on the killing of an innocent animal.

You already felt sick to your stomach as you witnessed that.

The killing of a human wouldn’t have been something that you could stand, but you took one step at the time.

Your eyes moved around searching for Alexander almost scared to face him again, but you knew that there’d be no Saxons, at least for the ritual.

They’d join you on the dinner, and you almost hoped that Alexander wouldn’t be there, because you didn’t know what to say, how to approach him.

Had you been the previous princess, the one that desperately strived to satisfy everyone, you would have apologized.

But now the words were rough on your tongue.

Ivar’s clutched your hand as he felt you wavering away and you simply nodded at him, as the sacrifice was finished and the priestess, the same one who had officiated your marriage, moved to deck blood onto all the brothers, starting from Bjorn and moving onto Ubbe, Hvitserk and Ivar.

And you, as she stained your forehead with the blood, then lightly dipping some on your mouth, something for which you had to hold back vomit, but you did gratefully bow at the priestess, who also stained with the blood your furs, right onto your belly.

‘… next month may you not bleed, my princess’ she spoke and she bowed, before moving away, Ivar and you blushing lightly at the implication, but Ivar also mumbled a few thankful words, and then you moved inside, Ivar disappearing from your side, as Hvitserk brought him away, and Bjorn took your husband’s place, guiding you towards the Great Hall.

Thankfully Angelika wasn’t much behind you and Caryn was at her side, Turid trailing after them, something that made you feel more comfortable as you moved in the already full, main hall, many people setting their eyes on top of you and Bjorn moved inside, with you by his side, making idle conversation.

‘How are you finding yourself, here?’

‘Well, then I hope that you’ll say the same in Kattegat’.

‘Does your husband have any intension to overthrow my mother?’.

You feigned innocence at the last question, glad that you had reached your seats, your handmaidens, waiting to take off your fur.

You were thoroughly surprised that Bjorn had been so direct, even more when he had been so disinterested in you.

But you had learned better from your awful experience with Halfdan.

You had your barriers up this time.

“… does it look like Ivar involves me in his plans?” you commented harshly, trying to tell Bjorn to ‘mind his own business’ and ‘back off’, something that took him back, probably since he was used to women smiling their way into his pants “… and even if I knew, why would I tell you?”.

“Because you care to survive” he spoke, his tongue cutting but his eyes unfocused as if you weren’t anything else than a body, and you were happy not to have shed your fur yet “… Ivar won’t win against my mother, believe me, and I do know that you are smart enough to want to survive”.

“Maybe you overvalued me, prince Bjorn” you commented softly, appearing tamed, as you remembered what Nanna had taught you about attacking others, as your eyes became sharper “… and how can you be so sure that it’ll be your mother who’ll win?”.

‘Always hit where it hurts the most’.

And with that you turned around, facing a smirking Angelika, meanwhile Caryn gently pushed your fur off your shoulder, as Turid untangled the bow at your neck, and soon you were simply in your dress in front of the blonde prince, his eyes following every line of fabric as you turned around to face him again with a small smirk.

And then you moved to take your seat, as Bjorn set himself beside you, muttering a simple ‘lucky bastard’ and you couldn’t but smirk as you turned to Caryn, Turid and Angelika, who were at a different but not-too-distant table.

They all smirked brightly at you, proudly, as they exchanged laugh and you almost wished that you could damn etiquette and join them, feeling at unease without a familiar face by your side.

Even more when your eyes caught glimpses of Alexander not too far away, his eyes ignoring you, as they settled on the cup of ale in front of him.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem to hate that beverage anymore.

Nanna came onto your table to chat with you and with the side of your eye, you caught Angelika looking at her with interest and a questioning look and you shot her a devilish look of your own, the other woman simply shaking her head annoyedly.

And then Ivar appeared on the threshold, moving closer to you, who raised up to welcome him.

And to show him your dress.

As you did, the room went quickly silent, as everybody’s eyes were suddenly onto you.

And you didn’t know whether it was for the beautiful dress or for the way your crown caught onto light, coming to live.

Or whether it was for you.

For a moment you almost thought it was for you.

The excitement of the crowd quickly thrumming in your veins, as your eyes set up on Ivar’s surprised face, before a smirk came on his own face, his eyes were fixed on you, genuinely looking at you as if you were the most beautiful spectacle of nature.

And then he was in front of you, separated simply by a table, as you gently bowed your head at him, but he held your chin between his fingers to keep your face up, as he stared in your eyes.

“Apparently Freya blessed us with an appearance” his smirk was playful, and hadn’t you been in public you would have very much liked to kiss it off.

“My prince you make me blush with your compliments” you commented softly, moving to gently grab onto his hand, as he smiled back, kissing your forehead.

He then sat beside you, the entire room having been silent the entire time, as eyes looked at you, no glares or bad eyes, but simply glances of curiosity to the wife of their youngest prince.

The one they thought they’d never see smile at a woman, like that.

You were the unified front that your deal had wanted.

He settled himself down beside you, as soon as he could, walking with a fierceness that made you laugh, and he grabbed your hand under the table, as slowly the clatter of the room came back, helped by Hvitserk who asked ‘when dinner would be served?’.

Dinner was a whirlwind of conversations about nothing and everything, as Ivar gently caressed the back of your hand he held with his thumb and for a moment…

… for a moment you wished this moment could last for ever,

“… you do look actually more beautiful than Freya” commented Ivar in your ear, as he leaned in, making you blush as you shot back a small ‘flatterer’ “… you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met”.

“Then you mustn’t have seen many women” you teased him, as he boldly kissed you with a light laughter “… you have a way with words, husband…”.

“… and you love it” it was a bold comment, but it was rewarded with a quite smile from you.

“That I do”.

“Prince Ivar” some soldier called out, ruining your moment.

Lightly embarrassed of your actions, you immediately pushed your stare onto your plate, as Ivar left your side to converse privately with the soldier, something that you allowed with a small kiss to his hand, as you were instead dragged away by your handmaidens to dance, something that made your feet and cheeks ache, from dancing and smiling too much.

You hadn’t had so much fun… in for ever.

Once you were tired of dancing and you made sure that all the girls had rightful partners for the next few dances, the Saxons having joined in although shyly, you sat down waiting for Ivar to come back, wanting to breath a bit and not feel the stench of sweat and beer attaching itself to your body.

And you were drinking ale, as you felt somebody sitting beside you.

Ubbe.

You recognized him as you raised your eyes to him, finally realizing that his gaze wasn’t set up on you, as he started to speak with you, but on Ivar who was talking surrounded by a few of his most trusted soldiers, from which you recognized his own private guards.

“… whatever deal is between you two, I am impressed that it is actually working” someone commented loudly, as they sit next to you, and when you turned you realized it was Ubbe, his insinuation making you blush.

“... or maybe we are simply enjoying the wedding bliss” you replied tightly, trying to match his disinterested tone “… you should know about it, Ivar told me that you have a wife”.

You knew that you had hit him, as you felt his teeth clatter together and tighten his jaw, but it was only a minute before that calm storm reappeared in his eyes, and you should have seen coming that nothing pleasant would happen next.

“I do think that it started all out as a deal between you two, I know my brother enough to know what he is like…” he commented as if he already knew all about it, but you just tried to ignore it, hating the way all this men seemed to know everything about you, thinking they could do better.

It reminded you of your father’s controlling ways.

“… but I think that somehow you are slowly falling in love with him” Ubbe’s admission was what your heart had hidden you in these days, almost since the start of your marriage with Ivar “… that’s why I want you to know this before anything gets further with my brother”.

You expected Ubbe to tell you about his plan to dethrone Lagertha or how moody Ivar can be…

But what Ubbe said next hit you so strongly.

“Ivar killed our brother, Sigurd”.

You choked on your own breath, as your eyes finally turned to Ubbe, almost expecting him to admit that it was a terrible joke, that he had played because he was jealous of Ivar’s happiness, but Ubbe looked back at you with a strong gaze, withholding your panicked look.

“… Sigurd and Ivar’s relationship wasn’t always good, but once, meanwhile we were also feasting Ivar threw an axe at Sigurd, and he hit him, he killed him”.

“Why are you telling me this” your voice was choked, and you couldn’t hide it.

“… because think what he did to his own blood, without any remorse…” Ubbe’s eyes were hungry for your pain “… you might own his heart, but that doesn’t mean that he won’t kill you if you betray him”-

Your feet moved on their own, as you got up, raising yourself so fast that for a moment you were startled, but your body seemed to know better, since it brought you out of the room, in the dizzyingly cold air of the night.

Somebody followed you.

Later you discovered it was Hvitserk and Nanna.

And Ivar.

“(Y/N)!” he called out to you, as you stopped in your steps, him coming closer to you, as he gently touched your shoulder, something that awakened a fear in you, and you moved startled away.

“… is it true?” your words were a simple tremble, a bare whisper, and Ivar looked at you not knowing what you meant “… did you seriously kill your brother?”.

Because if he did, any stupid illusion you had created in your mind broke down.

The silly thought of a life with him wouldn’t be broken by your own father’s ambitions, but by the fact that if he had murdered his brother, his own blood, he wouldn’t have hesitated to do the same for you.

And your love couldn’t overshadow fear in that moment.

In those days you had lost yourself in a beautiful fantasy, forgetting the harsh reality.

Alexander would have laughed loudly at this, his own prophecy coming true.

“… we can talk about it” he choked on his own words, his blue eyes hiding themselves away from yours, almost as if he was scared of your scrutiny.

And in that moment, you realized how stupid you had been.

How blind.

It didn’t take much as you looked in Ivar’s shadowed eyes to realize it was the truth.

You had lied to him, but he had also left out important pieces.

And now you were left broken.

---

Liked What You Read? Want To Support me? Buy Me A Ko-FI!

---

@youbloodymadgenius @killerofthestars @barnzbucky @kideyz @walkxthexmoon @ sisionamissie @ serafina21 @ivetemptedfate @fisherbrookphotos @crispygiantsaladgarden @didiintheblog @ bagpipes606 @emilie1993 @ squids-for-knees @lauraaan182 @ietss @seirio-sa @ivyfatale @distinguishedsaladoperawinner @ fantasygirl1864 @ tayissexii-blog-blog @saldelys @heavenly1927 @daenarys-dixon @xwishax @barefoot-in-the-night @ ironwolfbailiffclam @loohsouzar @mother-of-goddesses @ crookedly-unique-student @ iammissdblog @invasion0fprivacy @cheesedjunhoe @wtfffffffffffffffffffffffffff @ where-are-you-everywhere @gracethegeek9902 @suzem89 @super-amberlynn @ohmy-sammy @thesoundofsouls @neyrriz @megzdoodle @ original-hbic @wanderingaroundwriting @lordsexmachine @rls905 @poisonous00 @ bingboopbong @warriorsonepiece @oo-michi-oo @gabby913 @crazy-fan-101 @sophiethegamer @fleursviolettes @ http-fvcksleep @lol-haha-joke @ntlmundy @notyourtypicalrose @ supernaturalvikingwhore @gold-dragon-slayer @limbo-limbo-limbo @ khalissechanel @annaoopeth @akaduds @ sunshine483aw @ardoreyes @ietss @cute-thingy @ntlmundy @megzdoodle @ youbelongeverywhere @inforapound @alexa4040 @peaceisadirtyword @didiintheblog @maggiescarborough @stillreadingfantasy @ wonderlandofsu @dudeidontcareaboutanything @alexhandersenx @tempt-ress @soleil-dor @sadbutatleastsassy @a-mess-of-fandoms @maggiescarborough @ lysdiferrentworld

#Ivar #Ivar The Boneless #Ivar Reader #Ivar The Boneless Reader #Ivar x Reader #Ivar Imagine #Ivar The Boneless Imagine #Ivar Fic #Ivar The Boneless Fic #Ivar The Boneless x Reader #Ivar Lothbrock #Ivar Lothbrock Imagine #Ivar Ragnarsson Imagine #Ivar Ragnarsson #Vikings #Vikings Imagine #History Vikings

109 notes · View notes

glittercracker · 4 years

Text

Kingkiller Crap

So, I’ve never really posted much here that involves my own thoughts. There are a number of reasons why, but whatever. I feel the need NOW to post some thoughts, and having no working independent blog (yet!) I suppose this is the place to dump them. PSA: none of this is about anime. None of this is frivolous or fun. TW for sexual abuse. You have been warned! So. I’ve been rereading the Kingkiller Chronicles. aka “Name of the Wind” and “The Wise Man’s Fear” and “That Other One That Shall Not Be Named.” This reread was, at the beginning, almost an afterthought. A way to keep my 13 yo happy on a 7 hour car ride. Except, he could not have cared less, and I got sucked back into the story (and okay, if that is how all our audiobook car rides go, meh? At least it keeps me sharp!) I raced through book one, and bought book 2 on audible with an eye to my upcoming surgery and recooperation. Book one was problematic in the places I remembered, but also as generally engaging as I remembered. And then book 2 happened, and surgery happened, and I have had weeks to lie in bed listening to this bloody interminable sequel, and I find myself lost in a morass of, “WTF was I ever THINKING?” Namely, how did I ever love this book enough to pine for the next? It’s been hard to put a finger on exactly what is making this time through book 2 both a slog and also vaguely, creepily uncomfortable, but if you’re interested, my rather stream-of-consciousness ramble of thoughts ensues. First, the male gaze that rears its head at times in book 1 predominates here. But while I don’t love the way Kvothe describes women, I also have 2 degrees in literature, and I’m beyond that being a reason not to read an otherwise engaging book. Second, Kvothe is a Gary Stu, for all of Rothfuss’s protestations to the contrary. Again, so far, so much traditional high fantasy. But while, say, Aragorn is content to just quietly be Awesome At Everything, Kvothe is a braggy little shit of a Gary Stu: the person you hated for announcing their perfect scores in that hs class you could never quite master. I could fill several pages with examples, but for some reason what really made me want to kick him in the head was not Felurian’s disbelief of his virginity (though really, jfc, REALLY?) Nope, it was the end of his time w the Ademrae (sp may be off, remember, I’m listening not reading!) when he crows about having learned the history of his sword 2 days earlier than expected. Why does this stick out? Oh, idk. Maybe bc he sucks so hard he can’t even get past the first obstacle in his practical final exam? Yet he still has to tell us how fucking awesome he is for remembering 6000 names of previous owners.

I know, I’m supposed to forgive his teenage idiocy. The internet sympathists (no pun intended!) keep telling me this. And I suppose that I would, IF this were a simple first-person narrative - but it isn’t. Let’s repeat that, and really think about it. This story is being narrated by an older and presumably wiser Kvothe who has lost everything - whose abilities have been expunged to the extent that he can’t open his own chest of Cool Stuff. He shows humility in his actions, mostly. And yet when discussing his 16 yo self, the humility evaporates, and he speaks with no kind of perspective or lens of accrued wisdom. He still compares women to instruments waiting for the “right” player (i.e. him) and defends this choice of words by saying, essentially, “You aren’t a musician, you don’t know!”

Interesting assumption for an innkeeper in a medieval-esque world. Interesting assumption if this is in fact authorial interjection, too, because I suspect the majority of this book’s audience *are* musicians to at least an extent, and I also suspect that the majority of us (yes, us - I own several beloved instruments, including a harp custom made for me as a wedding present from my husband) would not equate a human lover to even the most beloved of instruments.

But all of this is well-trodden critical ground. As far as I can tell, though, my third issue isn’t: although it’s perhaps the most glaringly tone-deaf example of all of Rothfuss’s excruciatingly tone-deaf portrayal of his world’s women. Namely, the two girls kidnapped and gang-raped by the fake Ruh.

Almost all of the criticism I’ve read on this section of TWMF concentrates on Kvothe’s treatment of the girls’ abusers. What’s interesting is that no one ever seems to write about Kvothe’s treatment of the girls themselves. Yes, he treats them kindly. He tends their wounds, he feeds them, he tries (and succeeds, of course) to draw Ellie out of her shocked stupor.

Yet what he never once does, from the moment he takes control of the situation, is ask their opinions on any of this, including what their next step should be. He just decides to bring them back to their families - families who, in this type of society, might well disown them for being “ruined”. And the girls themselves, namely the intelligent and savvy Krin, seem to go blindly along with what he says. Why? Would Krin at least not question this, or object to his making decisions for her, when a group of men had so recently and brutally taken away all of her agency? Would she not question whether being brought back to her family is the best thing for the catatonic Ellie?

Okay, apparently not. So they return to their apparently very forgiving town. Kvothe stands up for the girls against the village shithead: thank you, Kvothe, bc I’m sure Krin could not have said those words herself. He assures the reader that they are with people who will love and care for them despite what has happened to them: thank you, Kvothe, though it’s stretching my credulity a bit that you would assume that no one will take issue with their deflowering. But then he “gifts” the girls the spoils of his slaughter: the horses, the valuables, the wagons. And I was about to give him a (grudging) pass for being decent about this, EXCEPT: he goes on to say that these goods are meant for the girls’ dowries. Specifically, to make them worth enough financially for potential husbands to overlook their loss of virginity. He even tells Krin not to settle for a less-than-lucrative marriage.

And suddenly, I was outraged. Why? Because a man who had witnessed the full extend of these women’s abuse brought them back to a backwater town believing that he was being magnanimous both in doing so, and in giving up whatever share he might have taken of the spoils of the debacle to make them financially lucrative marriage prospects. Because he never asked these traumatized girls if they might rather cut and run with the money than use it to make some man overlook their abuse in order to make them his property. He never even questions the idea that they will be grateful to submit to marriage contracts that will no doubt require them to have sex with their husbands, even though these women have been abused to the extent that they cannot sit a horse for *two days* after being rescued. And the worst part is that 20-something frame-story Kvothe doesn’t question this either; he just goes on to gloat about people singing songs about his daring rescue. Maybe I was just ready for a straw to break my benefit of the doubt. Or maybe this really is as outrageous as it feels. Either way, I can’t help being angry at Rothfuss. As a writer, I am very well aware that character and author are not the same thing; that authorial intent is not the same as authorial beliefs. But there are moments in some books when I have to wonder if that line is blurring, and this is one of them. Kvothe has literally JUST left a female-dominated country full of independent women happily doing their own thing. He has given these girls the means to find themselves a situation that will never require them to be beholden to a man again - even houses ffs, in the shape of those 2 wagons, should they want them. There are so many options beyond marriage: I can’t, for instance, think of a medieval society that didn’t have its version of a convent. Or, for Krin at least, why not the University? For that matter, why not marry her himself, and then set her free to do as she likes under the awning of a respectable marriage?

Instead he returns them to their fathers, and likewise gives their fathers the means to marry them off with no argument. Who, after all, holds the reins of the horses at the end? Why does Kvothe assume that these families will actually use the wealth even in the dubious way that he recommends?

And in this, I think, I am justified in giving Rothfuss the stink-eye. This is one more instance for Kvothe to play the hero with no real attention given to the consequences. Kvothe himself, I think, would be appalled. He has suffered so much deprivation in his life, so often been marginalized, scapegoated, powerless, how on earth could he so easily consign others to that fate? How could he think, loving Denna as he does, having heard her words to the beaten girl in Severin, that buying these girls husbands who will “overlook” their abuse for the sake of wealth is anything but a wretched life sentence for them?

Sigh. There was a time when I desperate awaited book three. Now, given the other women’s lives at stake in this series, I’m not so sure I want to know.

#kingkiller chronicle #kvothe #patrick rothfuss #wise man's fear #Kingkiller chronicles sexism #kvothe gary stu #kkc sexism

59 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

deputyash

Dovie & Co.

lckdgyjerqua1

Untitled

bhaktapurshahar-blog

bhaktapurshahar

unastar47

TheGirlThatCanShipAnything

jellybeanarmy

Jamie’s Warhammer Blog