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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years ago

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Are very, very old friends

My Masterlist

Your heart and my heart (first part of this)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: A second part to Your heart and my heart, where Ivar and Reader were childhood friends (and pretended to get married when they were children) and got separated by circumstances of life, only to meet again on a battlefield in Wessex.

Word Count: 9.8k (I am so fucking sorry, holy shit)

Warnings: My unwavering state of denial over Aslaug’s death, mentions/descriptions of injury/battle, allusions to sex (nothing graphic), and my terrible writing lol

A/N: I hope you are no longer surprised by how I seem to be able to focus only on the stuff I need to focus on the least, bc here we are. Writing has been very difficult lately, so I am not so sure this is any good, but I still hope you enjoy.

As a reminder: In this universe the brothers (minus Björn) are in Wessex with the Great Heathen Army but Aslaug isn’t dead (Lagertha never took over). This is an almost 6a in age Ivar, but of course a different canon where he has stayed raiding in England. And Princess Blaeja (who was briefly mentioned in the previous part) is engaged to be married to Sigurd.

Your eyes cannot move fast enough to take in the field ahead of you, trying to check every trap and every barricade. Even if you were to find a fault, you remind yourself, you wouldn’t be able to change anything.

Hlíf comes to you, brisk pace that you can still see the exhaustion in, and stands at your side, shield with your colors and your symbol. It looks heavy.

“They are coming, Dane.”

“I know,” A deep breath, and you signal with your head to the center of the camp, “Go back, you’ll lead them to hold the second line. The Saxons will breach the first one.”

“You are not staying here.”

You don’t meet Hlíf’s gaze, instead meeting the eye of a few shieldmaidens that stand tall ahead, waiting for the Saxons to come. They nod their heads once, they know what they are agreeing to.

“We are.”

The forward scouts sound the horns, and before long the marching feet of warriors makes the unfamiliar ground tremble under your feet. Your hands tighten on the handle of your sword, and you take a breath.

Hlíf steps closer, but her gait ins anxious, “You better retreat to us when the time comes, Dane. You are not allowed to die here.”

“Says who?”

Hlíf grunts a curse, but retreats behind the second line of spike barriers.

You’ve been hounded by this group for weeks, ever since you and your warriors departed for York back from a successful raid. You aren’t sure if they are from that city or sent to intercept you from somewhere else, but they are bloodthirsty and determined.

Making camp was a necessity, especially with the wounded and weakened you have in your group, but the years have made you ingenuous, and the months you’ve spent with the Great Army have taught you to use the surroundings in your favor.

Your warriors dug ditches and laid spikes within them, much like you remember hearing Lagertha did when she assisted Aslaug in defending Kattegat, and while you didn’t have the defenses of walls, you made sure to draw passageways with the placement of the tents, to lure the Saxons to follow a path you know by heart when they came.

And now you stand, restless in your spot, waiting for them to get close enough for your archers to thin their numbers, for the frakka’s of those closer to you to take down the stronger ones.

It is not enough, but you never expected it to be.

Once they get close enough, you shout the command to march, and your forces and theirs clash.

The sound of battle deafens you, shouts in two different tongues and death in the same language echoing around you. Still, you seem to hear the faintest of rustles, and you lift your shield as you turn, stopping the downward strike of a Saxon.

Pushing back while you bend your knees, you unbalance him, slashing at his thighs before you plunge your sword in his chest. He meets your eyes, and spits blood in your face before his strength leaves him.

So, it is personal then.

You keep moving, blunt hits of your shield and quick strikes of your sword, taking down as many as you can, worrying more for injuring them and weakening them before they reach the more vulnerable in the camp more than for killing them.

Maybe that is your mistake.

The sword slashes at your leg, the pain sharp and weakening, and your stance buckles. You turn around with a raised shield to try and defend yourself, but you are too close to the ground and the warrior puts all his strength behind his kick and forces you to the ground.

Scrambling to turn on your back and grabbing a discarded axe, you stop the advance of his sword, but your arms burn under the strain, and his snarling face reminds you of a chained dog too close to breaking free.

It isn’t enough. You have no choice.

Releasing the strain of holding him back, you are able to swing your arm back and hit the side of his neck with the hand axe, but not before his sword pierces your shoulder, drawing a scream of pain from you.

Pushing him off you, you stand on uneven ground, trying to make sense of the battle around you and keeping your defenses against the Saxons that are still very much after your blood.

Your shield once again on your hand, you stop the attack of a younger warrior, slashing his chest with a move of your arm that feels weaker and trembling even as you manage to deliver a fatal blow.

Another manages to get close enough to bit the edge of his shield against your wounded leg, and his sword slashes at your side, drawing blood and blinding pain in its wake. He is taken down by a snarling shieldmaiden that comes to stand at your side, and your eyes scan the first line of the camp’s defenses already breached.

You are outnumbered, you are not going to win. Not like this.

“Through the east!” You call out in your own tongue, not waiting for any of the few that remain able to fight to acknowledge your command before you dart for the passageways you can make use of.

You are close enough to the second line of barricades to cross it if you wish to, but your mind is made. The Saxons trailing after you and the few others that still stand, they make quick work of your shieldmaidens soon enough, and you grit your teeth at the screams of pain you can do nothing to stop.

Most of them were foolish enough to think you were retreating, and they trailed after you and the remaining warriors.

Reaching the end of the alleyway, you turn around, standing on shaky legs and lifting one hand. Breathing past the pain is proving difficult, and there’s black at the edges of your vision, but you can still make out the shapes above you, and those that stand next to you.

You close your hand into a fist, meet the eyes of the Saxons that seem to hesitate to approach. They will always fear a heathen woman that smiles while surrounded by blood and death, the fearful -faithful- will call her a monster and insist she is not human.

They fear, they hesitate. And that is enough.

And you drop your hand, the weakest of smiles on your lips as you give one last command,

“Loose.”

____

The first thing you can sense when you awaken is the pain, and the weight keeping you down. Awful, but at least you aren’t dead.

You open your eyes slowly, half expecting to see the murky forests of the Isles towering above you after having been left behind by the Saxons to bleed out slowly and painfully; half expecting something with women on winged horses and a lot of golden shades.

But all that greets you is wood.

Inconsequential, unimpressive, mediocre wood. Yet, your body is filled with such a relief you almost give in to the temptation to doze off again.

Still, you force your body to answer and you sit up on the cot, breaths ragged as the wound on your shoulder sends pain like lightning through your very veins. And slowly, painfully, and with more curses than your mother would like out of a princess, you stand up.

Just when you are considering what the plan after standing up actually was, a woman barges into the room.

“Oh, you’re standing,” She says, and you lift your eyebrows but say nothing. She tsks her tongue, and approaches, her eyes focused on your upper chest, “You shouldn’t be.”

“I would think it was a good sign.”

“Which is why you do the fighting, not the thinking,” She quips, a quirk of her mouth as she glances at you. Quite mean, for an old woman, but still you offer a smile as well. Her palm presses lightly against your shoulder, before going to your side. “You’re not too hot.”

You pout, “Aw, shame.”

“And you seem to be in good spirits.” She chuckles.

You meet her eyes and lean closer, asking quietly,

“That will change soon, though, won’t it?”

“You are the reason a lot of people are angry, yes,” She confesses, before stepping back, “You also are the reason a lot of people are alive as well. Make sure they remember that, and you may keep your head.”

With a non-committal gesture you step past her, a hand on the doorway keeping you upright as you meet the gaze of the expecting shieldmaidens. They call your name and a few expletives in greeting, some in anger, some in welcome, but all in relief.

“While I love seeing you all alive and well, I…have a feeling at least one of you is here under specific instructions.” You state, a quirk of your eyebrow when one of the younger ones stands up, and slips out of the house quietly, with a murmur of being glad you are alright.

You sigh, and though one of them offers you a seat you highly doubt you’ll be able to stand if you sit down, so you wave away her offer, and lean on the doorway.

“Did the rest make it?”

“Most of them, yes. The injured are going to be escorted back, they couldn’t make it on their o-…”

The words die in a gasp as the door to the humble home is kicked open, and a tall shieldmaiden strides in, eyes blazing and set on you.

“You mad Dane bitch!”

“I have a name,” You quip as the shieldmaiden advances towards you. “It is a very pretty one, my mother chose i-…”

She shoves you forcefully, stopping whatever it is you were going to say.

You stumble back but catch yourself before falling, and you can’t help but let out a grunt of pain as your side is pulled tight by the sudden and forceful movement. The healer quips from the room at your back something about not injuring the already injured further, but you both ignore her it seems.

Hlíf still pushes on, “Of all the hare-brained, reckless, st-…”

“Hey!”

“You don’t scare me, Dane,” She huffs back, stepping forward until the shieldmaiden towers over you. “Half dead as you are because of your stupid decisions, you aren’t a threat to anyone, least of all me.”

In the back of your mind, a voice that sounds so alike your brother’s, always calm and collected; begs you not to do this.

You were never good at listening to him, though.

Headbutting one of your oldest friends wasn’t high in the list of things you wanted to do if you ever came back from the dead but…here we are.

Hlíf stumbles back, holding her nose and setting incredulous eyes on you.

Strangely enough, the tension seems to slowly ebb away with the unexpected action.

“I like proving people wrong.” You tell her around a shrug, slowly betraying a smile that she returns, even if there’s a resentful sort of relief in the way she approaches again and presses her brow against yours.

“You are so lucky you’re injured.”

“I wouldn’t call it-…”

“I would. I’d be knocking your pretty ass to the ground if you weren’t,” She promises, and scoffs a laugh that sounds like a reprimand, “You scared me, Dane.”

You meet her eyes, study the dark circles under them, the haggardness on her face, the stubborn tremble in her voice; and realize maybe you weren’t the only one to believe you’d die in that forest.

“How long has it been?”

“A little over a week since we made it to York.” She tells you, motioning for a seat, and motioning again when you refuse it. Stubborn.

You carefully sit down before the fire, narrowing your eyes at the girl that attempts to cover your legs with a fur. You are injured, but you’re far from an old woman.

Though you do accept the awful-smelling brew of herbs the healer presses into your hand before scurrying off back to the room where you were sleeping.

Watching the herbs swirl in the cup, you mumble, “You know, I did the right thing there.”

Hlíf’s kohl-lined eyes narrow, “I don’t think that means what you think it means.”

You gesture with the arm of your good side, “I wasn’t the one leading them! For once I followed orders and we got stuck, it isn’t my fault!”

Hlíf’s eyes only grow bigger and bigger in affront and fury at your insistence, and you decide to shut your mouth.

“You defended when you could have retreated, even though you were wounded, and alone.”

“When you put it like that of cou-…”

She interrupts you, her tone cold and imposing as she repeats, “You defended when you could have retreated, even though you were wounded, and alone.”

“I heard you the first time.”

She offers a side smile, head tilted to the side, “Huh, you listen. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“That is uncalled for, come on.”

Hlíf looks at you, blinks slowly two times, and takes a breath.

“You defended when you could ha-…” She starts again, but you interrupt her with a shove of her good shoulder and a huffed laugh. She does have a point, however insistent she is at repeating it.

“I panicked, I…I needed to give you more time to leave safely, without Saxons trailing after you. I needed to stall them.” You confess quietly, fidgeting with your fingers, elbows resting on your knees, ignoring the soreness on your side as your position strains at the healing wound.

“You agreed to retreat if you were outnumbered, but you didn’t.”

“There were still some traps that hadn’t been used, I could lure them to the east side, and it worked, the archers made work of the thick of their numbers.”

“You were half-dead by the time that happened.” She insists, biting.

“All that matters is that most made it out. It was the right call.”

“If I hadn’t insisted we go back to find you, you would be dead,” She argues, though her voice quietens as well. “You’d be alone in that damn place, we wouldn’t even be able to bury you.”

That is not something you want to think much about, and with your gaze on the flickering flames you press quietly, “Do you want me to apologize, is that it?”

“No.”

“What do you want then?”

“I don’t know, Dane. What do you want?” At your confused frown the shieldmaiden shrugs, “Coming back from the dead and all, figured I could grant you at least one thing.”

“Those Saxons that hunted us down strung up on a tree?” You ask, only half-jesting. Hlíf doesn’t laugh though, she only presses her lips together.

“Can’t do that, Dane. They have been handled already.”

You really shouldn’t have expected otherwise. Still, you ask the question to which you already know the answer,

“Ivar?”

“Poured melted crosses onto their heads, left some alive after it too. Gruesome thing,” She explains, and you nod your head with a hum, wondering how long ago that was and trying to imagine how exactly they were captured so quickly. Hlíf watches you with growing worry, “I don’t know if I should be concerned about your reaction, or…lack of it rather.”

“You get used to it after a while.”

She scoffs, shaking her head, “You do.”

After a few breaths of silence, Hlíf calls your name quietly. She usually calls you ‘Dane’, a habit that never left her since the first days you were fighting together, when you first were able to call yourself a shieldmaiden.

When your attention turns to her, she says, “I’m sorry for shoving you.”

You look into her pale eyes, offer a smile and a nod.

“You should be.” You quip, and after an incredulous breath Hlíf heaves a sigh.

“You could say you’re sorry too, Dane.” The shieldmaiden chuckles, still oddly fond in her defeat.

“I’m not, though.” You reply around a shrug, sharing a smile with her.

The conversation ebbs away as you hear a voice distantly shouting commands, a voice you know well.

“Where is she!?”

“Oh, great.”

Furious stabs of a crutch on the hard ground, and the door opens just as many shieldmaidens scurry away, making way for Ivar the Boneless. His eyes meet yours with a fury you have never seen before, a snarl on his lips and tension coiled around his body like a vine.

When he speaks, though, his voice denotes none of that. His voice is carefully even, dangerously still, reminding you of a beast stalling its breath before it strikes.

For a man as explosive as him, calmness is never a good sign.

“What. Were. You. Thinking.”

Your nose furrows, and you offer with a grimace, “I…wasn’t?”

“This isn’t a joke.”

“I know. I’m the one that almost died, remember?” You prompt, but he doesn’t answer. You nod your head, not really sure what to do, muttering to yourself, “Serious business, dying.”

Hlíf lets out a choked groan, before advising, voice low, “You should really just shut your mouth, Dane.”

Ivar turns to her, the sharp focus of his pale gaze making the shieldmaiden straighten in her seat.

“Get out.” He orders, voice low. You see it in her, the pride insisting on resisting and the instinct pleading to obey.

Instinct wins, and after sparing you a look Hlíf stands up, and motions with her head for the other shieldmaidens to follow, leaving you and Ivar alone in the small home.

It feels even smaller as his gaze returns to you, it even feels almost suffocating as Ivar takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders but says nothing.

You clear your throat, and start what you hope will be a conversation and not a screaming match.

“I am not apologizing for the choice I made.”

An angry breath leaves him through his nose, sharply. His eyes remain on you, quiet intensity that makes you feel exposed.

“Of course you’re not,” Ivar bites out, before shaking his head at himself, “I can’t believe you’d be so-…”

“It was the right call, Ivar.”

He wrenches his gaze from you, looking straight ahead. For a moment you wonder if he refuses to look at you because he thinks he can hide anything from you. Because he should know better, because he should know by now you are aware of the way his jaw tightens, of the way his breaths are intentionally -forcefully- even, of the way anger and pride are the only thing keeping his control from slipping.

“You could have died.”

“And?”

His focus returns to you, and you snap your mouth shut.

Wrong thing to say, wrong thing to say, wrong thing to say.

Ivar’s eyes widen in anger, and when he takes a breath he seems to be twice as tall.

“And!?” He repeats, voice thundering, “You almost died! You…” His nose curls in anger, but there’s something more fragile in his wide eyes, something like fear, “You spent days in that damn bed, they told me it was in the hands of the Gods whether you survived or didn’t.”

A pit of worry forms in your stomach, and you quieten your voice, trying to offer reassurance, “I pulled through, I-I am alright.”

But it falls on deaf ears.

“You were there, dying, and there was nothing I could do,” A sharp breath, but it sounds choked, “You would have gone where I can’t follow, I-…there was nothing to do, nothing I could-…I c-couldn’t-…”

“Ivar…”

He turns to you, accusing, “I was unable to do anything while you died, while you left me.”

“I didn’t die, I am alright.”

“You almost did.”

“That’s-…”

His lip curls into a snarl and your eyes are drawn to the scar on the right side of his mouth, the scar you are responsible for. The process of healing from the deep cut you left that first day you were reunited was a slow one for him, especially because of how much you insisted on finding ways to make him smile and then grumble at the sting of a reopened cut. And now your eyes are drawn to that scar, watching it follow the movement of his mouth as it curls in anger.

“No, I don’t want to hear it,” He interrupts you, a gesture of his hand. “You made the wrong choice. You put yourself in danger when you didn’t need to.”

“If I hadn’t, most of my shieldmaidens would be dead now. We couldn’t fight them directly, Ivar, we had too many wounded.”

He walks past you, the stabs of the crutch on the ground still more forceful than they need to be, and pours himself some mead in one of the unused cups, his back to you.

A deep breath, and before he drinks he offers, “You should have left them behind.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You move to walk forward, but putting too much weight on your injured leg makes pain shoot through you. You falter, and you try hiding it but you know Ivar notices, judging by the way his eyes narrow.

Still, you insist, slowly walking closer, “What is a few shieldmaidens against all the people we went there to aid? It is a sacrifice we all were willing t-…”

He gestures with his free arm, stopping you, “Well it isn’t a sacrifice I’m willing to make! Not if it costs me you!”

You are stunned into silence, whatever words that were to leave your mouth dying on your lips with a gasp.

Ivar glares at you as if you were somehow responsible for him saying something he hadn’t meant to, a twitch of anger that makes his furrow his nose and his lips press together in a line.

He moves to one of the chairs by the fire, taking a few breaths through his nose that you are sure are meant to be calming but sound equally as angry as before.

You still have nothing to say, no words to leave your lips.

There’s a part of you that never let go of him in all those years you spent -grew- apart, and in these months you have spent with the army, leading your own forces under Ivar and his brothers’ commands, learning from them -from him- many things and offering a few tricks of your own, conquering new lands and fighting new battles; your foolish heart has started to speak of hopes that could never be, has started to feel light like it never did before, as if it and his own heart recognize each other even after all the years and the scars.

Ivar takes a breath, discarding the crutch on the chair by his side.

“I…I never forgot you, you know. Not when you left Kattegat, not when father died and we came to England, not-…I never forgot you,” His eyes linger on yours for a moment, before Ivar turns his head and looks back ahead, clear tell of gritted teeth as he confesses, “I kept an eye on you, through the years. I had men near Ribe when you and your brother fought for it so that they could tell me the outcome of the battle.”

Your heart lurches in your chest, and you slowly take a seat by his side.

“I…I never knew.”

“You weren’t supposed to,” He retorts without missing a beat, hesitating before continuing, “I always hoped we’d meet again. With what I’ve done, with what I’ve accomplished, I hoped that maybe I’d find you again and I could give you enough reasons to stay this time.”

Quietly, you offer, “I never wanted to leave.”

“I know that now,” He assures you, the slightest of movements of his head that you think was supposed to be a nod. Ivar’s eyes lift to yours, and he says, so low you almost miss it, “I just found you again, I can’t…I can’t lose you.”

You don’t know what to say, you don’t know how to put into words what his words are doing to your foolish heart, to the heart that has always been his.

“Ivar…” You start, not certain of what you’re trying to say.

But it doesn’t matter.

Ivar leans forward surprisingly quickly, pressing his lips against yours. The touch of his lips on yours is urgent and hurried, shaky and inexperienced; leaving behind wide blue eyes that look into yours as if desperate for an answer to a question that isn’t a question at all.

You sigh shakily, but your mouth trembles into a smile, and with barely a moment of hesitation, you cross the distance between you again and kiss him, this time deeply, this time eagerly, this time ardently.

There’s the desperation of having lost too much time without this in the way his hold on you is tight and frantic, there’s the anguish of having thought lost you forever in the way your name leaves him in a choked gasp when you part for air, there’s the relief and the elation of finally having you within reach in the way he doesn’t let your lips part from his for any moment, a faint sound of protest from somewhere deep in his chest whenever you pull away.

You finally part but don’t move too far, it seems both of you unwilling to let much space come between you. Breaths labored, you whisper,

“I have wanted to do that for a long time.”

“You have?”

In any other man the question would be a blatant seeking of praise, and maybe it is in him too, but there’s something else too, something more fragile, something more vulnerable. Like some part of him never ceased to be the boy you kissed before you were to leave Kattegat, like some part of him will never truly believe how wanted he can be, how loved.

“I never forgot you either, Ivar,” You confess quietly, lifting the hand you can and tracing the side of his face, the scar on his cheekbone, the scar you claim of your own over his lip. “I could never forget you.”

His smile is awed, and softer than you ever thought it could be, and more boyish than it should be allowed to be for the sake of your foolish heart, that skips a beat in your chest.

With the crackling of fire and the feel of him under your hands, you forget the passing of time, you forget the soreness of your body, you forget everything except him.

You exchange secrets and promises in the shape of kisses that linger always in between adoration and hunger; and after a while, with your fingers trailing absently over the scar on his mouth, you offer your regret.

“I was reckless,” You tell him, resisting the urge to curl the hand on the side of his face into a fist when you notice how much it trembles. “I…I should have retreated. I am sorry.”

“I was…I was stuck here, unable to do anything. I couldn’t go fight with you, I couldn’t go search for you,” There’s the familiar resentment -at the world, at Fate-, and you say nothing, but your hand moves towards the back of his neck and tries to offer a soothing caress. Ivar continues, “I can’t will my stupid legs to work as they should, but I can…I can keep you safe. You have to let me keep you safe.”

“You cannot keep me from death, no one can,” You remind him, before acquiescing, “I promise I…I will be more careful, I will not make pointless sacrifices.”

Even if it wasn’t pointless to you at the time, it is the best way you can word it.

And, judging by the faint and almost shaky nod Ivar offers in acceptance of your words, it was the right thing to say.

____

Ivar had planned to make the journey back to York and raid from there one more time, while matters about his plans to settle in the Isles are solved, and originally you were planning on going with him.

However, he insists you need to rest and heal so he won’t let you fight, and you insist being bedridden will only make you go mad, so you reach a compromise. You and Ivar discuss the details of the agreement as the healer checks the wound on your shoulder, and when he is to leave you notice the way he hesitates before he does, eyes travelling to your lips before meeting yours.

You smile, but then his pale eyes travel to the woman that is cleaning her hands with her back turned to the both of you, and you understand the question.

Being Ivar the Boneless’ woman is not something you would ever feel shame for being, or wish to hide, and though you do have your reservations about what it would mean as a commander of your own share of forces within the Great Army to be so close to one of the sons of Ragnar, you know no fear of rumors is with making Ivar believe you are ashamed of being his.

Instead of voicing your answer to the question he doesn’t ask, you just tilt your chin up, eyes on his.

Ivar’s smile is a tad on the shy side, a tad overwhelmed, but he still dutifully leans down and captures your mouth in his, promising to meet with you again after you’ve spent time with your warriors.

He leaves, and before long, as the healer changes the bandages on your leg and shoulder, you hear the familiar sounds of your friends settling again in the small home. It makes a pang of what you refuse to call regret go through your heart, at the thought of how easily accustomed they are to spending time at this home, waiting to know if you would survive or not.

You take a breath, and walk out to meet them.

Vígdís, one of the elder shieldmaidens, doesn’t even look up from the piece of chicken she is carefully pulling apart with her fingers as she states dryly, “I was betting he would kill you.”

“I’m glad you gals are on my side, really.”

Hlíf swallows a mouthful of chicken and points the drumstick at you, “Hey, I bet you’d kill him.”

You look at her with a frown before conceding, “Actually, that’s flattering.”

She offers a toothy smile, and encourages you, “Yeah, you could take him!”

Vígdís scoffs, “Oh, she wants to,” At your glare the older woman only shrugs one shoulder, “Or the other way around. You don’t have a preference, do you, Dane?”

“Anyhow,” You drawl out, turning to the others, “I suggest you prepare your belongings and say your goodbyes. We won’t raid with Ivar and Hvitserk in these lands, our forces are needed elsewhere. We will be travelling to East Anglia in a fortnight.”

Hlíf scoffs, “One hell of a spat you two had, huh?”

“Wh-…? You know, I really don’t want to hear it. Just…do what you must.”

“I’m just saying, your love life is taking us all over England, Dane.”

“Shut your mouth already.” You grumble, but Hlíf’s brazen laughter resonates in the small home.

____

In the days that go by -way too quickly for your liking- before you are to depart to East Anglia, you find yourself drunk on the foolish happiness of having within reach what you never truly thought you’d have.

It is three nights before you leave that in the quiet of your shared room Ivar presses his lips to yours with a softness that is jarringly unlike him, and breathed over your lips the most hushed I love you.

It was that same night that you tangled your fingers in his hair and drew him back against you, not able or willing to resist the temptation to flick your tongue over the scarred side of his lip to make one of those choked little sounds leave his lips; and when he kissed you back hungrily pulled back to promise the same, just as softly even if you vowed it fiercely, I love you.

And now you are to depart. Standing in the stables and watching as your shieldmaidens and warriors finish loading their belongings and the supplies for the road.

Ivar is next to you, leaning against a wall with an arm secured around your waist and allowing you to rest slightly on his chest.

“Take some of my men with you.” He insists, for what must be the thousandth time since you made the agreement to part until the last month of the spring.

“I don’t need protection,” You remind him, leaning back a bit so you can see his face, “If I remember correctly, and I do, last time it was you who needed help from me.”

“I didn’t need help.”

“Of course not, love.”

Ivar takes a deep breath at your mocking tone, choosing instead to insist, “Just take those men with you.”

“No.” You tell him, one last pat of your hand on his chest before you turn to walk away.

Before you can pull away his free hand grasps yours, and you easily give in to the slight pull, turning back to met him and stepping closer again.

Ivar tilts his head down so he can look you in the eye, something dark and tempting shining through his expression as his mouth curves into a crooked smile.

“I thought wives are supposed to obey their husbands?”

Your heart does a foolish thing in your chest, beating out of rhythm as if trying to leave your chest and burrow into his. Still, you stare him down with your head tilted to the side, and all the answer you offer is a dry reminder,

“‘Countless sons and daughters’, Ivar. If we are holding each other accountable for those promises, we ought to start there.”

He wants to argue, you know he does. And you aren’t entirely convinced some of the warriors that join your forces because they want to aid Ubbe are there at all for him, but you have no evidence, so you shut your mouth and just make sure to keep an eye on them.

As you expected, they act as your bodyguards, no matter how much you try pushing them away.

And so time passes, and in your time on the road towards Soham you are able to heal well enough, slowly getting back to training with Hlíf and Vígdís. And by the time you reach Soham, where Ubbe awaits support to hold on to the city, you are able to fight once again.

And how you dearly missed it.

Time becomes a blur after that. Soham proves to be more difficult to hold than expected, and so your forces remain a while longer before moving to Dunwich where you manage to take over relatively easy, since the Saxon forces retreated from the coastal city.

The years made you capable, and the Gods made you arrogant.

Which is why, as the warriors from Dunwich start retreating, following their Lord’s commands, you, standing still close enough to the edges of the frontlines that Saxons scurry around you, take a knee and pretend to catch your breath.

The footsteps behind you are predictable, and you tighten your hold on the shield. When the warrior gets close enough and tries striking, you lift your shield, catching his arm on the edge of it as you stand up.

You twist your arm holding on to the shield, feeling the strain in his own and hearing his surprised scream of pain.

It snaps out of place under the strain, and satisfied, you let go of him with a push. He stumbles forward and tries grabbing onto a dropped sword with his uninjured arm, and you let him.

Readying your stance, you notice two others refuse to retreat as well now that their countryman is fighting, but make no notice of them as you stride forward, driving your sword through him, ignoring his pitiful attempt at deflecting it.

You approach the other two, shield tightly grasped, and push back against the strike of the first one against your shield, deflecting the sword of the second one with your own.

Making use of your smaller size, you quickly spin in your place and slash the neck of one of them, lifting your shield just in time to stop the attack of the second one.

But he lets out a grunt, falls down before you can kill him. The Saxon falls on his face, an axe protruding from his back.

You lift your eyes to meet those of an unfamiliar warrior, who stands proudly and offers you a nod.

“You’re welcome.”

Walking past him and not bothering to hide your distaste, you insist, “I didn’t need any help, and certainly not from you.”

He proves to be more insistent than you would have thought, and for too many nights you have to bear him sitting close by to you, trying to impress you with one tale or another. The man is unbearably persistent on either bedding you or courting you, and as the days go by after the fight for Dunwich, he proves to not be the only one.

Until, eventually, you can’t take it anymore.

____

“I’m going to need an explanation for that.” Hlíf asks, a broad smile on her lips and eyes shining with mirth.

You grit your teeth and start walking away, but of course she follows.

The winds of East Anglia are biting, and the ground under your feet is still softer and so different than that of your home, but in the time that has passed since you and your warriors joined the Great Army you have learned to be as familiar with this foreign land of England as you once were with your own.

Granted, the incessant waves at the coast and the ever-present sea salt in the air that characterize Dunwich are not something you are planning on getting used to any time soon. You really just want to get back to York.

“I shouldn’t have saved her ass at Soham.” You mutter to yourself, even if you know you don’t mean it.

“I heard that!”

“You proved you have ears, congratulations.”

She skips the few steps she was lagging behind, walking at your side and matching your stride with a wide grin that you choose to ignore.

“Thank you, but I’m married,” She quotes, the mirth coming through in her voice, and she laughs to herself, “Gods above, Dane, what kind of answer is that?”

“He was insistent, and I couldn’t exactly fist fight one of Ubbe’s trusted men,” You explain, your voice a grumble when you add, “Tis not my fault if the prick heard I was a princess and suddenly decided he needed to have me.”

“You sure it was your title? After seeing you fight when we took this city, I’m not surprised so many want you.”

“Hey, I appreciate the compliment, don’t get me wrong,” You quip, sparing a glance to her, “But if you’re trying to court me, I’m afraid it will go as well as it did for Olvir.”

On her lips grows once again the mischievous and devilish smile, and the shieldmaiden tilts her head to the side as she says, “Oh, I know that, because you’re married.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why lie?”

“It wasn’t a lie.”

“If you think you’re making sense, prepare for disappointment.”

You shrug your shoulders, “It’s…complicated.”

“Well, the whole camp will soon hear about you telling Olvir you’re married, so we might as well get the story right: are you taken, Dane?”

Blunt, and to the point, not that you expected anything different from Hlíf.

You consider your words before answer, slowly, “Yes.”

She chuckles, shoulder knocking against yours playfully, “Ah, so who is the fool that has your heart but isn’t staking a claim?”

“He has, you just haven’t noticed.”

She stops walking, and so you too stop, turning to look at her wide eyes and offering a shrug of your shoulders again.

“You mean…” You nod, and past the surprise she finds it in her to laugh, shaking her head in amazement, “Oh, you really are a mad woman, aren’t you?”

“Well, we are technically married. I can’t turn my back on a bond before the Gods, right?”

She shakes her head with a chuckle, “So that is why you have been so insufferable, you miss York. I just thought you really hated East Anglia.”

“I really hate East Anglia.”

“Of course, Dane.”

____

You return to York as dawn breaks, and you don’t have time to get off your horse before Hvitserk is standing there, arms crossed over his chest and leaning with one shoulder on the entrance to the stables.

He offers his older brother a nod of his head as greeting, but Ubbe passes him by and Hvitserk keeps his eyes on you.

He blurts out, “You are married?”

“Hello to you too. I am glad to see you alive and well, dear Hvitserk.”

“You are married.”

You look at him, at his smug little smile and his warm eyes shining with mirth, and take a deep breath.

“You should know, you were there at the wedding.”

His sniggering laughter follows you as you walk away, but you forget your irritation quite quickly as you find Ivar in the rustle of movement, determined and uneven steps carrying him towards you.

Your smile is wide and lovesick and foolish, but you do not care for hiding it. His is quieter, more secret, but it doesn’t fail to make your heart skip a beat in your chest.

Ivar’s free hand grasps at the back of your neck once you are close enough, bringing your mouth to his with urgency, quickly letting the kiss become passionate as he slips his tongue into your mouth. Your hands find purchase on his hips, and more than ever you hate the armor that doesn’t let you feel him his warmth, his strength- under your fingers.

“I missed you.” You whisper quietly when you part, your brow pressed against his.

He blinks his eyes open, more than a little dazed, and the look in his eyes -the need, the adoration, the everything- makes a pang of heat go through you, threaten to set you alight with only a look.

“And I you.” He finally tells you, quiet voice rough.

You barely have time to be alone with Ivar before obligations pull you apart, a feast to welcome back the forces Ubbe and the Princess of Ribe, a reunion to exchange tales of victory and be together with those that were missed in the months apart.

Granted, that means that they don’t let you be together with the one you missed the most in those months apart, but you don’t have it in you to complain. Except you do, but that is not the point.

The night dies down and you roll your eyes at a few pointed toasts in congratulations for your marriage, but remain sitting at your place beside Ivar, pretending not to notice his hand on your knee or his arm around the back of your chair.

You grab his hand when it starts trailing up your leg and making you feel the effects of his touch like lightning crawling over your skin, and you could swear the smug bastard chuckles at the way you have to stop him.

“Eh, sister!” Hvitserk calls out, and with gritted teeth you turn to look at him, sitting by Sigurd’s side with an arm over his brother’s shoulders, “I am glad you are back, truly.”

“Thank you, Hvitserk.” You tell him, immediately feeling like you are about to regret accepting he doesn’t mean to tease you any longer.

“If only because I cannot stand my brother’s moping any longer. Who would have thought a son of Ragnar would be so loyal to his wife?”

You dismiss him with a gesture, but you cannot help but chuckle alongside the others.

Ivar turns his head towards you, nose almost nuzzling at your hair as he moves closer to speak by your ear,

“Why did you tell people you’re married?”

You don’t lift your gaze from your joined hands, following the trace of your fingers as they trace over the back of Ivar’s hand, “So that they would leave me alone.”

“No one is leaving you alone now that they think you are my wife.”

You spare him a look, glancing up, “The men that insist on either bedding me or courting me will, and that is enough for me.”

Ivar, of course, clings only to part of the words you speak, and his voice lowers, expression hardened with what you would swear is jealousy -pointless, unfounded, stupid jealousy- as he asks,

“Who are these men?”

Your eyes narrow, you honestly cannot believe this man.

“Are you serious right now?”

“I just want to know who they are.”

“I-…” Running your free hand through over your face, you bite back a groan, “Everyone thinks we are married now, shouldn’t you be worrying about that?”

He shrugs, “You were the one that told them you are married.”

“You are the one that I told them I’m married to!” You tell him, exasperated. He says nothing, and in the two blinks that he offers you somehow find it in you to be even more offended, “You truly are not worried?”

“Why should I be?”

Slowly, you remind him, “We are not actually married, Ivar.”

He shrugs, “We could be.”

“But we aren’t.”

“But we could be.” He insists easily.

Deep breaths, you tell yourself, taking a moment to bite back irritation, you love him, even when he is being intentionally insufferable.

“Is this your way of asking me to marry you?”

“You seem to have done that for me already,” He replies instead, raised eyebrows and another shrug of his shoulders that only makes you angrier. “You seem to have done more than that.”

You sigh, and shake your head at his mocking, only to make him chuckle at your reaction. Gods, he is infuriating.

Ivar’s smile loses the mocking edge as he leans even close, pressing a soft kiss by the side of your mouth in an attempt to make you stop pretending to be angry.

“What’s the harm in that, hm?” He asks, eyes falling from yours to your lips when you finally turn your head to face him, “They know you’re mine now.”

You almost want to argue there’s no way they wouldn’t know judging by the way the two of you have been joined at the hip since you returned from Dunwick, but you won’t deny a part of you grows darkly proud at knowing everyone knows he is yours and yours alone.

“And you are mine.” You remind him lowly, the beginning of a smile on your lips. His eyes linger on the curve of your mouth, lids growing a little heavier at your words and tone, and you have never felt more powerful.

Ivar nods his head,

“I am, wife.”

____

As you come down from both of your highs you find out Ivar is as unwilling to relinquish the closeness as you are, and in between soft touches and breathed presses of lips on heated skin, you find a kind of peace you never realized how much you missed.

“I was thinking,” He starts, and you cannot stop yourself from teasing him, so you let out a soft, uh-oh, and he scoffs, biting down on the side of your neck in retaliation, “We will be settled in the Isles by next winter.”

Ivar pulls back to look at you, holding himself up on one of his arms. At the strange expression in his pale eyes, you reach up with one hand and caress the side of his face under the guise of moving his hair back.

“We will.”

“Let’s go back to Kattegat,” He tells you, a tad rushed, “For this winter. Let’s spend one last winter in Kattegat.”

“Are you homesick, love?” You drawl, a side smile that he rolls his eyes at.

“What do you say?”

You search his gaze, because something tells you there’s more to the question, more to the action of spending your winter in Kattegat.

You won’t lie and pretend you haven’t missed the town, you won’t lie and pretend the memories you made there aren’t still with you, kept safe by some nostalgic and soft part of your heart.

Fate has a funny way of working, you’ve learned, and time brought you back to the side of the boys you made so many of those memories alongside of. Time brought back to you the cadence of Sigurd’s voice as he hums in par with his oud, time brought back to you Ubbe’s easy companionship as you train together, time brought back to you the secret smiles you share with Hvitserk over a joke only the two of you know of. Time brought back to you the one you’ve loved since before you even knew what love was, brought back to you the heart that your own finds itself familiar with.

But there is a part of you that misses Kattegat and always will, the sinuous streets of your childhood, the foreign scents and sounds of the bubbling market.

Instead of giving your answer outright -you always did like making things harder than they have to be-, you muse aloud,

“Having married you when we were children should keep me safe from your mother’s wrath, shouldn’t it?”

“Wrath?”

You let your fingers trace over the scar over his lip, the one you are very much responsible for. In these last few months, you’ve grown quite fascinated with it, with how it stretches when he smiles one of those big and crooked smiles, and especially with how Ivar trembles when you run your tongue over it before kissing him.

But that is not the point.

The point is you are very much responsible for at least one of the new scars Aslaug’s youngest son bears, and she will know, and she will look at you in that way you remember from your younger years. It is enough to make a grown woman shiver.

Ivar chuckles as he understands your hesitation, “You don’t need to fear her.”

“Easy for you to say.” You scoff.

“And if I tell you she still remembers fondly that childish wedding? Will you agree to come then, hm?”

“No,” At his frustrated sigh you tighten your fingers on his hair in silent reprimand, “Now I know you’re just saying that to appease me.”

“I would never.” Ivar mocks, earning another tug of his hair that he breathes a laugh at. You don’t fail to notice the way the laugh stutters a bit past his lips, you are very much aware of your effect of your hands on him.

Said effect is very much evidenced in the way he doesn’t resist the temptation to lean down and steal your breath with the slowest of kisses, his nose nudging against yours softly before he speaks again, voice low,

“What if it wasn’t just that wedding?”

“W-What?”

His eyes open to look into yours, an edge of anxiety, of hesitation, that he -of course- pushes past anyways, clearing his throat and asking, “What if there were something more…permanent than that wedding from our childhood?”

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

“A second and last time.” He vows, a quirk of his mouth that speaks of jest but does nothing to hide the apprehension that shines in his eyes.

There was never anyone else, not for you and not for him.

Your answer leaves your lips in a breath that Ivar doesn’t hesitate to taste against your lips, with a gentleness that speaks of adoration and desperation, stealing your breath much in the same way he stole your heart.

____

Aslaug almost wants to laugh at the irony that it was the youngest of her boys that was the first one the be married, not once, but two times. And, surprising only those that don’t know him well enough, to the same woman both times.

Older but still holding that arrogant pride at the announcement -the same pride she saw in him when you walked Kattegat’s streets with your hand in Ivar’s- Ivar sat down in front of her and told her he had found a woman he wanted to marry.

And her heart felt a surge of a warmth she had long since missed with all her sons fighting their wars and their father’s across the sea; not willing or capable to hold back the wide smile that blossomed in her face.

Her hands cupped her son’s face, and the small, almost shy smile he offered her reminded her so much of the boy he once was. She promised her blessing and vowed how proud she was, and in silence, as she looked into her youngest son’s eyes, she thanked the Gods for being allowed to live to see this, to see him happy.

She knows there are so many twists of Fate that have let this happen. She knows -like she knows the streets of her kingdom- of the paths their son’s life could have taken, almost took. She knows of yours, and what could have been.

Even if she hadn’t heard of your close encounter with death in England, she would have the moment she was forced to see in her dreams what had happened across the sea, she would have the moment she saw the way it still haunted Ivar today.

For almost two weeks she dreamt of her son’s voice, the same repeated pleas to the Gods -to whatever would listen- said so many times his voice grew ragged and broke. Still, he did the one thing he could, and pleaded with the Gods for more time, for anything other than this.

He needn’t know she went to the Volür and they all made a sacrifice praying with the Gods to give a Dane shieldmaiden strength and health. He needn’t know, and he won’t.

Because it is past now, and you have healed and learned, and he has healed too. And there is no use in resurfacing pain in an occasion such as this.

Kattegat is lively even as winter approaches fast and cruel, the flurry of motion increased even more now that a Prince is to get married.

Your smile is the same mad little smile she remembers from your younger years in Kattegat, and Helga’s hands are more worn and her smile is a tad dimmer, but her fingers are still nimble and gentle as they braid the wedding crown of winter flowers.

Aslaug feels the pull of emotion when Ivar cups your face between trembling hands and kisses his wife for the first time, she feels the tears prickling at her eyes at the lovesick smiles on your faces as you remain in that moment after a kiss for a few breaths, eyes locked together and futures intertwined.

Ubbe stands tall as he watches his younger brother get married, and Aslaug’s heart grows warm at the easy smile that curves her son’s lips. She still cannot help herself, and finds herself hoping before winter is over and her sons are to depart from her side again, that she can see him with a woman by his side as well. For too long Ubbe carried a burden he shouldn’t have, shouldering the brunt of the world for the sake of his brothers, a boy trying to stand as tall as the man that left an absence in his place after Paris. Even if she once argued she cares not if they find love as long as they find a good woman to breed and form a family with, she holds the secret hope that she can see Ubbe happily settled with someone that he can love.

She hopes the same for Hvitserk, who watches the ceremony with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners, but she knows better than to expect him to settle anytime soon. Before the celebratory feast is halfway over, he has teasingly held a young girl to his side and exclaimed, mother, I am getting married as well, three times, with three different women. She doesn’t hold much hope he will settle soon, and has to bite her tongue and tell herself she is happy for him even if he insists on sleeping his way through Kattegat.

Reluctantly, she admits it is Sigurd who might follow in Ivar’s footsteps and marry next. He and that Christian girl have been promised to one another for years now, and the excuse of war and distance has kept them safe from their obligations to marry. But Aslaug knows it is a matter of time. For all her demure and shy nature, Blaeja’s eyes shine with something like amazement as she takes in the wedding ceremony even if a faint blush covers her face at yours and Ivar’s displays of affection. And she won’t pretend she doesn’t notice the way Sigurd lingers close to the princess, irradiating that gentleness of him that Aslaug is still regretful for having made so fragile in her carelessness.

Winter lets her have all her sons with her, though she knows it is probably the last time. Ivar has plans to settle in the Isles, the title of king and the promise of advantageous positions for his war against Alfred enough of a lure to keep her son across the sea; Ubbe has intentions to settle and take families with him to England even if he has to wade through blood to do so, Sigurd won’t stay too long away from his princess anymore, and Hvitserk will nevr bear to stay apart from his brothers.

But she has this winter, and it is enough. She will sit with her sons and have dinner while they talk and argue and laugh, and she will hear Ivar and Sigurd go for each other’s throats as if they haven’t spent these years fighting side by side, and she will watch you and Ivar get drunk on nothing but each other, and she will thank the Gods for all of it.

____ ____ ____

Thank you for reading, I apologize if this isn’t very good, I tried my best. Love ya!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @ietss @peachyboneless @encounterthepast @maggiescarborough @chibisgotovalhalla @fae-sedai @zuxiezendler @crazybunnyladysworld @stupiddarkkside @northumbria @aprilivar

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar

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hugsandharrifield · 5 years ago

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A Mini Harrifield Ficlet

Did a thing! A mini ficlet inspired by one of my favorite pics I had done by the amazing @kardcore It’s been a long long while since I have written anything so I know it’s probably a bit terrible lol. ------------------------------------ Sleepy ( Steve X Dwight) The chill air of the Entity's domain made Dwight thankful for the campfire. He didn't know why for the most part it almost always felt like a crisp fall evening despite this entire place clearly having been constructed by the eldritch horror that has kept them all trapped. But he really wasn't going to complain that the creature kept a warm fire always going in the spot where it dumped them between it's insane trials. A fire that never grew bigger or smaller and never went out. Dwight was resting for a bit, the Entity having lost it's interest in him for a period. It was pretty common for the Entity to do so, randomly choosing which survivors and killers would be it's playthings for the day.(Or whatever passed for a day in this nightmare.) Dwight was grateful for the downtime, knowing that the monstrous crab beast could decide at anytime to whisk him away to one of the trials. He sat on one of the downed logs that served as chairs around the fire, and chatted with Claudette, Feng, and Bill, who were also currently not suffering the attentions of an insane spider god. It was a relatively pleasant evening, considering the circumstances. Dwight heard a sound of footsteps behind him coming out of the woods that surrounded the Campfire. ��He looked up and saw Steve Harrington slowly walking out of the treeline and making a beeline for the fire. "Hey guys." the former jock half- smiled "Looks like our crustacean overlord has tired of me for now." He yawned and looked pretty exhausted as he shuffled tiredly closer. Without really thinking about it Dwight patted the log he was sitting on. "Take a load off man, you look like you have been run roughshod." Steve had been gone for a long while, the Entity had taken a particular interest in him today.Steve nodded at Dwight and popped over the log and sat right down next to the nervous geek. "I think the others are still being put through the wringer, but I am done for now." his clothes were clearly roughed up a bit and he appeared to have some bags under his eyes. "Relax while you can kid." Bill said as he puffed on one of his cigarettes that he somehow mysteriously always had. Dwight turned back to the others and they continued to chat about the trials that they had recently been through. Dwight sharing a particularly amusing tale where he had tricked Meyers into jumping off a building in Haddonfield by making him think he was about to jump off the roof himself. Lost in his story Dwight was surprised when he suddenly felt a warm pressure on his shoulder. He blinked and looked down and saw that Steve ,clearly completely tuckered out, had fallen asleep and decided that Dwight was perfectly suitable to be his pillow. A bright flush creeped into Dwight's face, as he felt Steve's gorgeous hair tickling at his neck. He was almost about to gently push against him when he heard Claudette " Don't you dare wake him, he looked exhausted." She said in her mom voice. Bill chuckled and Feng Min stared at them and made a strangely satisfied little squeal. Dwight was embarrassed but decided it was best to listen to what Claudette had to say. Besides Steve was warm, and if Dwight was gonna be completely honest with himself, totally adorable. Dwight definitely harbored a small crush on the brash young egomaniac. Still Dwight felt this whole situation was slightly uncomfortable and that Steve might fall over at any time. He shifted slightly and very slowly and wrapped the arm that Steve was leaning on around his back to steady him. Steve kind of burbled some sleepy nonsense and leaned in closer, unconsciously adjusting his own position in order to be more comfortable, wrapping his arms around Dwight's waist. At this point Dwight had shifted into full beet red, but also smiled, a bit pleased with the whole situation. He leaned fully into Steve hoping this would allow the handsome young guy get the rest he needed. Dwight satisfied that Steve was stable and wasn't going to fall over, started chatting with the other survivors around the fire again. While absently lightly stroking Steve's back.

#fanfic #harrifield #steve harrington #dwight fairfield #dead by daylight #claudette morel #feng min #bill overbeck

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ourfanfictiongalore-blog · 6 years ago

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Game of Survival - Prologue

lil’ note: This was written really fast and not necessarily edited so fair warning if its terrible, but enjoy the fruits of my labor!! lol.

“Excuse me, Kane? I went down to the skybox to visit Monty and they said it was quarantined off? What’s wrong? Are they all ok?” The man in question turns to her slowly and gives her a long look.

“So your the half-sister…” He puts emphasis on half as if the hyphenation is the only thing keeping him from shooting her into space like unwanted trash.

“Yes. I’m Arden the half-sister of Monty green and I want to know what the hell is going on with my brother” she says as if daring him to do something considering he isn’t actually chancellor. Jaha was in recovery. He keeps a neutral expression on his face before sighing and answering.

“It’s a medical issue take it up with Abby Griffin,” He says waving her off and walking away. Abby? So they were really sick? She makes her way to the medical wing as fear fills her mind thinking of Monty and Jasper being hurt. Upon arriving she sees Raven get there as well and she looks angry

“Abby what’s going on with the sky box?” Raven confronts her loudly.

“Yeah that’s what I came here to find out,” Arden says while crossing her arms. Abby hesitates before looking at the girls.

“A sickness spread and were trying to contain it” She says shortly while both girls give each other looks of non-belief.

“I was going to visit my boyfriend when they told me about the sickness, but I saw an open air duct why would it be open?” Raven asks as Jackson comes to stand beside abbey.

“The sickness isn’t airborne that’s why the ariduct is open” Abby says as her eyes momentarily shift to the ground making Arden grow suspicious and cross her arms at abbey. Her eyes fix on Jackson and she notices him staring at abbey as if he’s waiting for her to say something she shouldn’t.

“Alright well can you at least tell me if he’s ok?”

“Us. If there ok?” Arden corrects coming to stand even closer beside raven to back her up.

“No I can’t I’m sorry” Abby says to turn and walk away.

“No your not” Raven mumbles under her breath but abbey heard it and started to turn back to the two girls now standing frustrated in diffusive stances as if there body language would help intimidate into giving them some answers.

“First the drop ship now this. The councils hiding something.” Raven exclaims in irritation.

“And were gonna find out what it is.” Arden exclaims as both girls turn to leave. Ravens walking briskly a bit ahead of her and Arden runs to catch up. Ravens only about an inch taller than her but man can she walk fast.

“So how are we going to go about this?” She asks and raven barely spares her a glance as she replies.

“We aren’t doing anything I don’t need your help.” Arden grabs onto her arm making both girls come to a halt in the middle of the bleak grey hallway of the Ark.

“Look I get it if that’s how you do things normally. But you're not the only one with people that you care about in there, ok? And I’m gonna find out what’s going on to. So whether you like it or not looks like a mechanic and an engineer are gonna have to get along for once in history. Because it would be ridiculous to do it separately.” She states with conviction. A small impressed smirk appears on ravens face as she stared at the determined girl in front of her a moment.

“Does anyone have a choice when it comes to you barging into their lives?” She asks with a teasing tone to her voice. Arden smiles’ knowing this was Ravens way of agreeing.

“Nope.” She says making raven roll her eyes in exasperation before turning.

“Ok. Follow me.” and they were off to brainstorm on how to figure out what was wrong with the prisoners in the skybox.

****************

“Abbey we have to stop, the council votes in thirty minutes” Jackson says as Abby types away on a computer. Arden couldn’t see much Atlas not with raven infant of her where she was spying at the two in the main computer haul.

“What are they doing?” She whispers to raven who quickly shhh’s her. The girls had decided the best way to get answers wasn’t to ask questions but to listen in on the conversation. So far it wasn’t working the best but it was all they got.

“Then we have thirty minutes” She hears Abby say in protest. Thirty minutes for what? What was the council planning? Did it have anything to do with Monty and Jasper…Even Finn? Was everyone in skybox ok?

“They have every single person from sky box’s vital signs on the monitor next to a picture and there name” Raven whispers to her from behind making Arden want to push closer to look through the grate at what the other girl was seeing.

‘Why would they need that?’ Arden thinks to her self.

“According to Sinclair even if we sent a signal down the wristbands weren’t designed to receive, so the kids wouldn’t even her it” She picks up Jacksons voice What are they talking about wristbands? Is that how there monitoring who the sick and not sick were in skybox? She thought doctors were most effective when they actually examined them. Not when she looked at here health through wristbands on a screen. There was so many ways that that could go wrong.

“There has to be something we missed” Abby says as she sees her turn to Jackson over Ravens shoulder and through the grate. This was a Lot harder than she first had thought. Just then she could feel her foot slipping in her crouched position. ‘No no no’ it makes a squeak sound and she’s pausing holding her breath Raven side eyes her incredulously. But its not her fault that her foot fell asleep because they’d been crouched in such a small spot. Raven instantly climbs the latter that had gotten them own to where they were but before Arden could even grab on to the bottom Handle the door was being unlocked and abbey was barging in

“Hey! Hey!” and dragging them both (to the best of her ability) into the room.

“I’ll call security,” Jackson says planning to leave.

“There not dying” Raven says as the all turn to her. What was she talking about? Had Raven figured something out that she hadn’t yet?

“What are you talking about?” Her and Abbey ask at the same time then turning to each other in surprise.

“All that’s being sent from the ground?” Raven asks.

“What? The ground? that’s not possible its not surpassed to be survivable for another 100 years” Arden say’s the second part more to herself trying to wrap her head around the fact her brother was no longer safe on the ark even if it was in jail. How could the council be so heartless? There all just kids? Abby hesitantly grabs a medal band that was open and raven takes a holed of it.

“Transmitted by these” Abby says And Arden eyes snap to her just as Abby gives her a guilty look

“How could you even take that risk, your own daughter is one of them?” She asks incredulously.

“We didn’t have a choice,” Abby says lowly as she looks towards raven who closed the band and gave all three of them a smirk

“They’re taking them off,” She says while handing it to Arden to look at. She ran her finger over the sharp silver spikes that were built into it imagining how much it hurt Monty and jasper. Hell all of the kids when they put on them. Not wanting to look at it any longer she throws it towards Abby lightly who catches it.

“Why would they do something so reckless?” Jackson asks making all the girls turn to him before setting there gaze back on all the screens.

“Because we told them not too” Abby says with an astonished smirk on her face. Arden comes to stand beside her at the control panel and crosses her arms.

“Lets also not forget that their rebellious teenagers with a criminal background… so to say”

*****************

Walking into her family’s apartment Arden's mind was a jumbled mess. Her brother had been sent to the ground because the ark is dying and his life was disposable? For taking some weed out of farm stations rations? Why the hell did the Ark even have weed if not to use it? Her and Raven had promptly been told about there circumstances and all the little details up until the very moment when they’d caught the end of Abby and Jackson’s conversation and honestly that is a lot of information to take in in less than 3 hours time. Her father exiting from his room interrupted her train of thought.

“Oh hey star shine how was your day?” Well that was a loaded question. She was practically bursting at the seems to tell him all the information shed acquired even the fact that Monty and jasper had been sent to the ground because life support is low and if the 100 didn’t make it at least the ark bought themselves more time because ya know who care about the lives of kids who already feel alone and unwanted in the world because the council could be selfish dicks.

“Ya know, just the usual. Checking to see if all of the arks systems are operational making sure we have enough fuel” ‘we don’t' She says nonchalantly. She knew if she told her father she would end up exactly like Abby’s husband (who was really doing the right thing). And she had no idea what they would do to her father for knowing the information- oh wait they’d shoot him into space sucking all the air out of his lungs…just… like… Abby’s husband. She loved space, but she hates the Ark. Her father gave her a suspicious look when she didn’t make eye contact with him and fidgeted with her fingers. Truth was she didn’t know how to lie to her father. They’d been open with each other about everything since day one. Even things most kids would be flustered and embarrassed about being honest with the parents about.

“Star shine is everything alright? You know you can tell me if anything’s wrong. Like with work or anything?” ‘I can’t dad not really, not when this time it could cost you your life’ she thinks to herself. She heaves a sigh and looks at him giving him a small smile.

“Honestly no I’m just a bit stressed, but it will be. It’s gonna be alright” He gives her a wide smile one she’s known since she was a child and she couldn’t help but think Monty had his smile.

“That’s my star shine. But if it gets to much you can tell Me.” her smile widens at that. She always thought she had the greatest dad in the world

“Yeah dad I know” He goes into the kitchen and grabs an apple and takes a bite walking back towards her. He swallows leans down and kisses her on the head and walking to the door.

“Well star shine I’m headed to work, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” He says with a wink knowing he’s never done anything bad in his life.

“No promises,” She calls out before the door closes. She always felt more calm around her family, but now wasn’t the time to be calm she needed to find Raven and Abby and figure out a way to help her brother and Jasper.

***************

She met up with Raven not long after knowing that the council was going to meet up shortly to discuss what was going to happen on the ark and with all the kids on the ground. Why was she not surprised that Marcus Kane was more than happy with the idea of killing 300 people from the Ark? His tyrannical dream of being chancellor and doing anything to get it was getting real old to Arden real fast. Walking in to the main mechanics room she sees Sinclair, he looks up and notices her with Raven and they share a smile.

“Well I never thought id see the day were my Raven was willingly hanging out with an engineer,” Raven rolled her eyes as Sinclair comes to hug Arden.

“Ha. Ha very funny.” Raven retorts back to him as they all began talking and passing time till they could figure out there next move for how they could help the 100 and the Ark as a whole. Not 20 minutes later and Sinclair got a call on the walkie apparently someone needed a mechanic and engineer pronto Arden just wanted to know who messed up so royal that they needed both of them.

Walking down the hall to the address Sinclair told them to go to the girls approach a closed door. They give each other a confused look while taking in their surroundings, they were in the lower leaves of the go-sci ring and personally Arden couldn’t remember if she’d ever actually been down here. Raven holds a comm button down before speaking into it

“Did someone call for a mechanic and engineer?’” She asked hesitantly still not knowing why they were needed way down here. Both girls are shocked when the door unlocks and slides open revealing Abbey griffin. At this point in the day should they really be surprised?

“Your the one who called in the work order?” Raven asks Abby.

“Should we really be surprised Rave?” Arden directs at her using the new nickname she gave her only 20 minutes ago as Raven shoots her a side eye. She knew it wasn’t ravens favorite, which was all the more reason for her to use it.

“Girls we need to talk’” Abby says ignoring both of the girls previous comments. She side steps letting he girls walk in one after the other. Arden thought it smelt a bit like what blood taste like after you split your lip, Pure medal with a copper burn in the back of the nostrils. Looking around it was no surprise. Just guts of wires hanging from exposed areas were medal was peeled back. This room had to have been ignored since the Ark was formed. And wow did a 100 years of neglect really run a place down.

“Look we told you we weren’t going to say anything ok?” Raven try’s to assure Abbey not really knowing why she wanted them here. Arden just kept assessing her surroundings.

“I believe you and neither of you are in trouble. Follow me.” Abby claims. That got Arden’s attention and she curiously followed close behind Abbey as Raven hesitantly only followed because Arden went after so fast. 'Who knows what dangers she could get herself into she’s not wary of people for shit’ Raven thought

“Not in trouble yet you mean.” She mumbles to herself

“This levels off limits for people like us’” She exclaims glancing at Arden while crossing her arms, still suspicious of Abbey’s intentions.

“Oh Rave, where’s your since of adventure?” Arden teases while standing next to Abbey still excited about whatever griffin wanted to show them. Abby smiles at Arden before turning to Raven

“Not anymore. You both know that we sent the 100 to the ground, what you don’t know is why. The Ark is dying girls life support is on its last legs… I have ten days to prove that Earth is survivable or there gonna start reducing population. 320 innocent people would be killed.” The words that pass through Abbey’s lips make Arden feel light headed. So here she thought Monty was the one in danger. When all along the Ark was coming to an end and he got out (more or less) she leaned against the wall not even caring when some of the wire pocked into her hand.

“I don’t get it. Why are you telling us this?” Raven questions as Arden sucks in a deep breath to control her emotions. She could freak about this later but not now.

“Because I looked up your files, Very impressive. Raven you’re the youngest zero-G mechanic in over 50 years. And Arden you your the first Aerospace engineer to ever graduate early and at the top the class.”

“52 but… so what?” Raven asks

“So…” Abby begins to pull a tarp down from cover an object making Arden push off the wall and come stand beside Raven. Once its down they notice its an old pod from the first Space station to form the Ark.

“You have 9 days to get this ready so I can survive a drop.” Arden honestly didn’t know how much more top secret info she could panel today. And she was sure this was extremely illegal looks like the joke she made with her dad was going to come true. Both girls approached the ship to examine it. ‘Boy is this a piece of work’ Arden thinks as Raven hits it a few times.

“God what a piece of junk.” Raven exclaims mostly to herself but Arden hears it.

“Ill say,” Arden agrees.

“They must have found this thing when they salvaged MIR-3 in 2102.” ‘God this is going to take a miracle’ Arden thinks

“Which is ancient’” She exclaims out loud after ravens comment about the pods age.

“You want us to get a 130 year old escape pod ready to stand up to the inferno of reentry in nine days?” Raven says looking from the pod to abbey who had a determined look on her face.

“Can you do it or not?” She asks the girls.

“Hell yes we can but Abby if your going to Earth I’m going with you. You’re not the only one with someone you love on the ground’” Raven says when Abbey goes to protest.

“Like hell I’m letting either one of you go alone, you’ll need help and my brothers down there.” Arden says speaking up determinedly making the others stare at her. Raven then turns back to Abby.

“Those are our terms.” “Take it or leave it,” both girls say staring the older Griffin down. After a long bout of silence as abbey thinks about what the said she speaks up.

“Alright you can come with me.” She says with only a sliver of uncertainty in her tone.

“Looks like you got yourself a mechanic.” Raven smiles.

“One Aerospace engineer at your service.” Arden says as both girls start looking at the craft and deciding what they needed to get started on fixing it. After all they only have 9 days.

#the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #raven reyes #original character #bellamy blake #bellamy blake imagine #clarke griffin #abby griffin #finn collins #john murphy #mount weather #monty green #jasper jordan #harper mcintyre #bellarke #becho #all the ships

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mononohke-archive · 8 years ago

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Anime Roundup Pt.2 - Fall 2016 [Spoilers]

More rambling~

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure: Diamond is Unbreakable [8/10]

Another season of Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure has come and gone, and it’s been quite a wild ride. Personally, I think it was about on par with the first season of JJBA. I liked it better than Stardust Crusaders because I liked the main characters better and the plot was not as much of a repetitive “monster of the week” affair, but unfortunately, it seems like they didn’t put as much effort into the animation and production values. This 39 episode season was also a full 11 episodes shorter than the two 25 episode seasons of SDC, despite the manga being slightly longer. It definitely felt a little rushed, and I’ve had my manga reader friends inform me that some of their favorite parts were cut out.

But there were a lot of things I really loved about DiU as well. Josuke quickly became my favorite Jojo after Joseph, and I like Jotaro more in this part than I ever did in SDC. The villain, Kira, is also one of my favorite characters period and so is Rohan Kishibe, played brilliantly by Takahiro Sakurai as usual. Many of the stands are hilarious and creative in this part too. I also loved the whole Scooby Doo-esque mystery of a serial killer in the town and the slice of life elements. The scale was brought down from “evil villains try to take over the world” to one serial killer who “just wants to live a normal life”... and kill women and take their hands to satisfy his compulsions, of course. It was a really refreshing change from the typical formula.

The only thing or character that I didn’t like is Koichi - partially because he gets more attention than Josuke, kind of like Polnareff in SDC (except much less likable) and partially because his voice actor, Yuki Kaji, is fucking annoying as him. Unfortunately, on top of that, he’s the character who spends most of his screen time yelling exactly what’s happening, like Polnareff and Speedwagon before him, except his voice is literally ear-splittingly irritating.

I sincerely hope that in the next part, they don’t take shortcuts like they did with this part. JJBA is one of my favorites, so I will still be waiting for it eagerly.

Touken Ranbu: Hanamaru [5/10]

I wasn’t expecting much from this anime and it still disappointed me lol. Touken Ranbu is basically a moe anime (but with a diversity in character designs that moeblobs wish they had), except the characters are male. Some of it was sort of mildly entertaining and cute, but for the most part, it was pretty boring.

... Maybe I’m just peeved because they didn’t focus that much on characters I personally find attractive, like Kogitsunemaru. You know the only reason I watched this show in the first place was because I’ve seen a ridiculous amount of yaoi for it on pixiv? The porn was nice, but I would never play the game itself, so I figured the anime would give me a little more insight into the characters and their relationships. The anime did, but it still failed at entertaining me.

So, yeah, this anime perfectly average and forgettable. Only watch if you’re super dedicated to the game.

Poco’s Udon World [9/10]

The biggest surprise of this season for me was this show. Yes, this show is my AotS (by about .2 points) over that other anime which got super popular and had a ton of praise. Well, we all go against the grain sometimes and this is my turn. Poco’s Udon World is an underrated masterpiece in my opinion. This show came off the heels of the much more popular Sweetness and Lightning, which came out the previous season. Both shows have a similar premise - a young man in his early 30s with black haired (voiced by Yuuichi Nakamura) becomes a single father due to sudden circumstances and has to take care of an adorable toddler-aged child. There are some key differences, of course, but they are still similar enough to be comparable.

Personally I think Poco’s Udon World is far superior (for reasons I will discuss), and it saddens me that it hasn’t got half the popularity of S&L. (Probably because there isn’t a cute waifu character as one of the mains, heh.) So what makes PUW so good to me? Well, besides all the cute and the incredibly heartwarming/touching nature of the show, it’s also just very well-written. The characters and their development, as well as a plethora of themes I don’t see being portrayed very often in anime or when they are brought up, are handled in ways that make me uncomfortable.

Here is just a short list of themes PUW manages to masterfully cover in a 12-episode, single cour season:

career vs family

career and family separately

fatherhood

grief and nostalgia

growing up

love

And those are just the main themes? There are other things that are covered on a more subtle level. See, I explained in my review of S&L that it was lacking an exploration of its themes and was constrained by its repetitive slice of life format. Most of the supporting characters were not very fleshed out either. PUW fixes all or most of these problems.

Every episode brings something new to the table and there is no set episode format. I also absolutely love that every character outside of Poco and Souta feels like they could be a real person, instead of being a plot device or 2-dimensional character. They all have lives outside of their interactions with the main characters, so that even when they don't get much screen time, they feel fleshed out. All of them represent a different sort of family or different sort of lifestyle or different sort of mindset, which you can easily compare to Souta's situation because they all serve as foils to him. A lot of supporting characters even get their own character development like Nakaji and Rin (Souta' sister).

And... okay, I want to analyze this show in-depth one day, but I need to rewatch it (maybe several times) before I do. Trust me, it’s cute and all, but it’s much more than that too. You might be surprised at how high it is on my Top 10 Anime of 2016 list.

Kiss Him, Not Me [7/10]

After watching two absolutely terrible otome/harem anime that really pissed me off (Uta no Prince Sama and Kamigami no Asobi), I went back on my decision to never watch an otome because this one was about a fujoshi and written by a yaoi mangaka. Somehow... it paid off. I came out of this pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed this show.

Don’t get me wrong, there is still plenty that annoyed me (the fatshaming, how Serinuma’s voice changes, the shoujo cliches, etc), but overall I enjoyed it more than I disliked it. Although I was only rooting for two of the love interests, Mutsumi-senpai (who is mild mannered, friendly, genuine, liked her when she was fat) and Nishina (the gay option™, also a fujoshi and otaku who has a lot in common with Serinuma, also liked her even when she was fat), I didn’t really mind or hate the others either. All of them still treated her more respectfully than LIs in the other otome I watched.

The ending was brilliant too, and if they make a second season, I would still watch it for the characters and humor.

Yuri!!! on Ice [9/10]

How do I even begin to tackle Yuri!!! on Ice? This is the AoTS for sure (in general, not to me personally) and is by far the runaway smash hit in terms of both popularity and ratings. This anime is a game changer, to put it lightly. It did something no other popular anime has done before, and the praise is honestly well deserved. But, hey, remember that it’s still not perfect. In fact, up until the very last episode, I was debating on whether it deserved an 8 or a 9 on MAL. I settled on a 9 (a low nine by my standards) only because I cried a whole lot the last episode and realized that the overall impact of the show is bigger than my minor gripes. What are those minor gripes?

#1) Off-model/inconsistent animation. I will give a slight break to the animators because I know that animating ice skating is very complex and intricate, especially if you consider just how much ice skating there is in almost every episode. There are about a dozen ice skaters, each with two different 2-minute routines. Yes, many of them are reused multiple times, but regardless it’s still a lot of work. Unfortunately, YoI missed the chance to be stunning all the way through and join the other always-praised animation greats like Cowboy Bebop and much more recently, Mob Psycho 100. Only the first episode truly impressed me with how perfect and fluid the animation was, and I was dearly hoping that they would keep up that level of quality all the way through. Sadly they don’t, but we should all thank the writing of this show for being so damn good and making up for it. Besides, aside from a few, rather obvious off-model shots, it didn’t ever get too bad, not like Cheer Danshi!! from the Summer season.

#2) Slightly rushed pacing. Yeah, some of the events of this anime just go by too fast, especially the beginning few episodes where months pass between Victor arriving in Japan and Yuuri beginning his journey to the Grand Prix Final. It’s not really made clear to the viewers how much time has passed, and even I didn’t realize until I read a tumblr post on it. Originally, I wanted a whole other cour so that I could see the ice skaters interact more outside of work, but I think that would be too much as well. One more episode (a full 13 episode cour) would’ve been perfect, imo. Thankfully, we are getting another season, so there will definitely be more time to develop the other side characters and resolve some of the remaining threads! But seriously, I hope they do slow down a little bit in season 2.

Other than that...? Gripes so minor that they’re not even worth mentioning. The amount of good that YoI has done is overwhelming my comparison. I’ll just go through them like a list again because why not?

#1) Viktor and Yuuri’s relationship. A healthy canon gay interracial relationship in a non-yaoi anime. That is just shy of revolutionary in terms of LGBT representation in an anime. “We are born to make history”, indeed. Yes, some other anime have done it too like No.6 and Revolutionary Girl Utena. But was No.6, the other one where the main couple is M/M, popular like YoI is? Not particularly. Most of the viewership comes from yaoi fangirls or LGBT anime fans seeking an anime with a canon gay ship in it. What about Utena? Well, Utena didn’t have a happy ending, not for the canon lesbian character and not for the main F/F relationship of the show. Nothing is also explicitly stated like it is in YoI. Ofc, Utena by the very nature of the show, explicitly states very little but still. There’s also a goddamn kiss!

The best part of this is that Viktor and Yuuri is that, despite their happy ending, they don’t sacrifice depth or conflict between them and the drama doesn’t feel forced either. That balance is hard to achieve and it takes writing talent to pull it off. Every action and reaction feels natural and in-character. The writing featuring them is as good as any well-written romantic drama with a hetero couple! The other great thing is that even though Viktor and Yuuri’s relationship is incredibly important to the narrative and is the main relationship overall, romance is still not the primary genre. It equally shares genres with sports, comedy, and drama.

TL:DR; Their relationship is important. It sets a precedent that a gay couple can be the main couple of an anime and still be wildly successful. Now future manga and anime writers can take risks knowing that they won’t end up being financially compromised due the lgbtphobic culture of Japan.

2) Yuri on Ice perfectly balances its genres. This may not seem that important, but it kind of is and ties into the last point about how romance is not the main genre. If romance were the main genre, then this would be a yaoi/shounen-ai anime and it wouldn’t have gotten nearly as popular as it did. Yuuri’s evolution as an athlete and his desire to win the gold for the first time is just as important as his relationship with Viktor. Yurio, Viktor, and the other skaters’ relationships with each other and ice skating is also given a lot of attention. The love and dedication to ice skating in general is prominent and that passion has attracted the attention of countless professional ice skaters. (In fact, It’s like the anime singlehandedly brought attention to a niche sport that doesn’t get a whole lot of industry unlike American football and soccer/European football.)

There’s also a lot of comedy, which may be hit and miss for some people, but I found it pretty damn hilarious when it happens. Of all the sports anime I’ve seen, only a few others try others bringing in other genres. Most are pure sports because pure sports are usually the most successful (Haikyuu!! and Kuroko no Basket). So far for me, only YoI has successfully melded together all the genres it attempts.

3) Characters. It is said that sports anime highly depends on its characters to be good and set itself apart from other sports anime... and that’s pretty true. Most sports anime follow a rigid, predictable plot structure that doesn’t allow for much creativity on that front, so aside from technical aspects like the production values, the characters’ likability are the only things that it can rely on for originality. Of course, as I’ve already discussed, YoI blends genres and isn’t just pure sports so it has more freedom, but even it follows the same basic plot structure: main character is an underdog (they’re usually underdogs) who wants to win the finals.

So, what about the characters? Honestly, they’re fucking great. The problem with sports anime characters in most cases is that authors will fall back on tired stereotypes. Even the best of sports anime tends to have really obvious archetype characters you can recognize instantly. YoI doesn’t really have that. Yes, some of the characters do follow archetypes a litte, but even in the short amount of time they are given, they end up having miles more depth than the average sports anime character. It helps that we get to see them interacting with each other off the ice too. YoI is a character driven show much more than it is a plot-driven one. The plot is fairly simple, but the characters and their development are the most important part, particularly the main character, Yuuri Katsuki. He is relatable but also very believably talented and multifaceted. Viktor comes off as kind of a passive aggressive jerk at first, but he is one of the kindest and most caring characters in the show. Yurio comes off like an aggressive little brat (and he is still a little shit, I hope he gets more development in s2), but he’s genuinely a prodigy and he cares about Yuuri’s career. Listen, I could keep going and list another 5 characters that I like, but that’s not the point of this review.

That about covers the major things... I could go on, but then I might never shut up. To summarize, YoI is not perfect, but it is still so important for the gains in made for gay representation and besides that, it’s a rich, funny, heartwarming, and interesting portrayal of figure skating. I am sincerely looking forward to season 2 and hope that it’s just as good or even better than season 1.

#*#anime roundup #anime roundup: fall 2016 #writing*

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