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ariadnewhitlock · 1 year ago

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A Cup of Stars || Meera & Ariadne

TIMING: Current-ish, early this week LOCATION: Best Exotic Herbal Tea PARTIES: Meera @the-haunteang and Ariadne @ariadnewhitlock SUMMARY: Ariadne goes to explore the tea shop, and she and Meera talk. Ariadne tells Meera that she wants to take friends to the tea shop. It's soft. CONTENT WARNING: None

“Good morning!” Meera cheerfully greeted the woman that just entered her family shop, with a warm smile and an excited wave. The Best Exotic Herbal Tea Shop was supposedly one of the oldest businesses in the town of Wicked’s Rest, though its current owner, Meera, hadn’t really bothered to verify that information. To her, it was good enough that her grandmother had always spoken about it, included it in their age-old catalogs, and no one else has disputed the fact.

The Ghazi siblings, who usually manned the counter, were currently busy with other customers, so it was up to the usually reserved Meera to try and do her best not to get distracted by the ghost of a random relative just staring at her from the door, slightly behind the other woman. Years ago, it would have been quite the most jarring of sights. These days, however, she was getting used to it. “How can I help you?”

Having more than one place to go and get tea wasn’t a bad thing, by any means. Supporting local shops was important - a belief that Ariadne had all on her own, but one that was certainly aided by the fact that her family had a business of their own that relied on support from the town in order for it to be successful.

“I - what is your favorite tea to get?” Ariadne glanced up at the listing. “I’m big on tea - not like, an expert, I just like how it tastes, and I also like to listen to what others have to say.” She gave a small huff. “So. Yeah. Are you able to give me recommendations? If that’s asking too much, just tell me. I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Me, personally?” Meera was caught offguard by the question. She had been asked the same thing, of course, countless of times before, but it always catches her offguard. It was the same kind of question as when someone asks a mother who their favorite child was. Meera couldn’t choose. All her life, she had known tea, a lot of them, perhaps more than any one person should, but in her defense, her family was in the business. “I guess it depends on the time of day and the mood I’m in, but nothing can beat Assam or Darjeeling for me.”

Of course, she’d choose those two. They were from home, a part of her life she had barely known, she could no longer go back to for fear of the thousands and hundreds of dead relatives that would swarm her as soon as she stepped foot in that continent. There were already too many for her to handle in this part of the world. Meera shook her head, mustering enough strength to retain her smile, before continuing. “It’s not a bother, not at all, but I suppose we can start with what tea have you had recently and if you’d like to try something new?”

“Yes - you’re the expert.” Ariadne sighed, “I didn’t - it’s also okay if you don’t want to tell me, but both of those teas sound wonderful.” There was something enchanting about getting to talk to someone who was such an expert at something so beautiful, and she regretted not having been to the shop many times before.

“I had rooibos last night, and also a chamomile. This morning I had Irish Breakfast, I think?” Ariadne thought for a moment, and then nodded. “Yes, that. I will admit I am fond of making teas quite sweet - but I do genuinely like the flavor too. But yes, I think I might like to try something new - or at least - well, yeah, actually - up for trying basically anything.”

Meera found the sigh a little discomforting. Although she tried her best not to show it, she was taken aback by the response. Was it something she said? Before she could ask that very question, she found a different ghostly relative staring at the customer, appearing right behind her. He didn’t make any sound, didn’t move their graying lips, only stared with those large empty eyes. Feigning a cough, Meera did her best not to focus on the ghost. They were neither buying nor selling anything. “O-oh, I wouldn’t call myself an expert,” she went on. “We do actually have one but they’re out at the moment.”

Wherever those two were, Meera didn’t want to know. The pair of so-called experts had been working for her mother before she passed and maybe even for her grandmother and her grandmother’s mother. She wasn’t quite sure about that part. But they were full of knowledge about teas, far more than Meera herself could ever hope to have. She knew her chamomiles and lavenders, Assams and Ceylons, but those guys were on another level.

“Oh, well, in that case,” Meera turned her back to the customer to browse the shelf on the wall, which contained a selection of different teas. When she turned to Ariadne again, she held in her hands two different boxes. “Some teas ARE sweeter than others, so maybe you’d like to try some pandan leaf tea or star anise tea?”

She could see, for only a moment, an expression of unease wash over the woman’s face. Even though she hadn’t done anything to scare her, Ariadne couldn’t help but feel at fault. “I - sorry, I’ve just never met someone so wonderfully dedicated to tea before, and I think that surprised me.” She plastered a smile on her face, doing her best to force herself to relax, as much as was possible. “That’s totally fine, I’d probably be like, super unimpressive to them, anyhow.” She offered the other woman a small smile.

“I’d love either of those.” Her smile grew, “could - yeah, I’d even take both, if you wanted?” Ariadne nodded, “though not at the same time, I don’t know if that would work out so well.” She tapped her fingers on the countertop for a moment, before stopping, worrying that it would only draw that same expression of unease that her sigh had, earlier.

“Oh,” came Meera’s meek reply. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of the apology. Although she took the compliment as a, well, compliment, Meera has never been good at actually stating the obvious when it came down to it. Like, what was she even supposed to say? Thank you? She felt that was not enough to express how much she appreciated the customer’s sentiment, but at the same time, just saying it out loud, as is, felt like too much, too. “I don’t know… You’re…pretty…impressive to me.” What.

Meera feigned a cough, trying her best to move past that weird reply from herself, though she stumbled a few more times, unsure how to actually do that and whether she could even do that. “Tell you what, since it’s your first time here,” she did look too young to be an old customer, and if she’d been around, Meera would have remembered her…right? “Why don’t I give you 50% off on both? That way, it wouldn’t be too much of a waste if you end up not liking them!” Maybe this was why Meera wasn’t doing better business than usual, though to be fair, she was never a good businesswoman to begin with anyway.

“I’m really not too impressive but, uh, thank you?” Ariadne squeezed her eyes shut. This whole encounter was something she wanted to apologize for. She’d invaded the woman’s space (even if it was a shop, technically) and hadn’t done anything to make her feel more at ease. If anything, she just seemed to keep making it worse.

“I - really? I’d love that, but that’s really a lot of you to offer, to a stranger. So how about, if I do like them, I pay you what I’d owe you?” Ariadne suggested. “It feels like theft or something, otherwise, but if you want to give me the discount, you can.”

Meera gave her a fervent nod with a warm smile to boot not unlike that of a child that just got patted on the head for acing a test that was more important to their parent. It wasn’t a familiar state of being for the tea shop owner, as it had been her childhood. To be fair, however, her mother just wanted to ensure her survival, all things considered. It was hard enough to raise a child on her own in an unfamiliar place, but to raise a child who could see their dead relatives while their dead relatives kept stalking them? It was too much, something that was now akin to a nightmare for Meera herself.

“That’s okay with me, too,” Meera tried her best to make the young woman more comfortable than she seemed. “Whatever feels right for you.”

She wanted to argue about that statement regarding the theft but felt unprepared to do so. What did Meera even know about theft? She’s been hauntingly sheltered all her life, trapped in the walls of her family’s overbearing tradition. The tea shop’s walls even felt like they were designed to keep her in. She did not have any cause to resort to thievery, not even a hint of desperation or curiosity. That and a dead relative was always watching. That was more stressful to her than getting thrown in jail for stealing a piece of gum. “Would you like anything else?”

“I just like to be honest and kind whenever possible, and I wouldn’t want to cheat you out of anything is all.” Ariadne sighed. She wanted the woman to like her, except she got the feeling that perhaps she was trying too hard. That perhaps all the effort that went into reassuring the woman was actually making her more hesitant about Ariadne. She did her best not to focus on that too much, and to instead focus herself on the tea. Which was, after all, the original point of her outing. Not totally embarrassing herself around someone cool would have just been a nice bonus.

“Do you have any cookies or cakes? I’ll pay for those too, I promise!” Ariadne squeaked, “but the tea all on its own is also perfect. Better than perfect, even.” Okay, now even she could tell that she was trying too hard. She took a deep breath. “I like it here. I might bring a friend of mine sometime. I think they’d like it too.”

“That’s fair,” Meera gave the young woman a warm smile. She was pleased at that response. Although she did like handing out discounts like there was no tomorrow, which most likely meant that she wasn’t that great of a businesswoman compared to her late mother and late grandmother, Ariadne��s words felt genuine. Or at least genuine enough to make her feel better even if her most generous offer was denied. “You’re a nice person.”

Usually, when someone declined Meera’s offer, it was because they wanted something else. Or they felt like too proud to accept what they felt was a ‘handout.’ That wasn’t always the case, though. She was sure of that. But it did feel like that most of the time. It wasn’t like she was a mind reader to know what people really thought. She was something else. A ghost watcher. Something like that.

“Hmm, well, we do have something back there,” Meera moved toward the part of the counter to the side that had some pastries left on display. There used to be more over there, at least more earlier, but other customers have purchased them. What were left weren’t the usual kinds of pastries one would find at a bakery, most of all a tea shop. They were Indian pastries. From her father’s side of the family. Things she didn’t even have on a daily basis while she was growing up. “Oh, we still have a few Dharwad peda and Mysore pak! The peda is made with sugar and buffalo milk while the pak a buttery and dense cookie prepared in ghee. Dharwad and Mysore are places in India.” After the brief summary, she offered her a piece each to taste.

The woman was actually smiling now, which did a wonder for Ariadne’s nerves. Of course, she was practically positive that nothing could make them go away entirely, but any sort of lessening was more than welcome. “You’re a nice person too.” She offered her a small smile. “I just figure there’s not really ever a point to not being nice, really.”

She’d been raised to not take too much for granted - to be grateful - and Ariadne was, easily so, perhaps absurdly easily so sometimes - but she also knew that along with that came necessary respect, and it seemed overdue here, especially if the woman was out and about offering discounts to nearly everyone who entered the store. Not that she was rich - she never had been, but she believed very much in giving what was deserved.

“Those both sound amazing,” Ariadne took a small piece of each, taking care to chew each slowly, “and they both are amazing. This time I think I’ll go with the Dharward peda - which I hope I didn’t completely mess up the pronunciation of, but something advertised as having sugar is pretty much always gonna win me over.”

No point in not being nice… Those words reverberated in Meera’s head as her smile never left her lips. Truly the same words she has tried to live by, all things considered. To be fair, Meera had never encountered any reason, or point, to not be nice to someone, anyone at all, but that was mostly because she usually spent her days within the walls of her family’s tea shop.

Maybe if she had time to go out, mix and mingle, Meera could find a reason, a point, to not be nice to someone, maybe one of those Internet goblins in person. “Why, thank you! That’s so…nice of you to say!” She beamed, thinking she was so witty for that play on words.

“Oh, don’t worry about it! New words in new languages of new cultures can take some learning,” Meera gracefully rang the additional purchase after leaving the two samples with the young woman, having gestured for her to finish them or just leave them there if she couldn’t. Forcing someone to do either was a bad habit everyone tends to mistake as a good one. People should have the freedom to decline offers and kind gestures and what-not. “Here you go! Enjoy them together!”

“Thank you.” Ariadne offered her another small smile. “It’s - I appreciate the pun. Joke? Whatever you just did.” Again, there wasn’t anything but complete and total honesty, even if she wasn’t totally sure she was making anything other than a fool of herself, but right now she wasn’t going to focus on that.

“I just wouldn’t want to sound ignorant or anything,” Ariadne bit her lip, “but thanks.” She took another bite of the sample, the taste something incredibly satisfying. “Oh - really? Together? I promise I don’t always repeat things quite this much, but uh…” her voice trailed off. “Anyhow, these are both wonderful. Is - I have a friend, who I might want to bring here, sometime. Would that be okay?”

Meera didn’t know what it was either. Was it a pun? She wouldn’t necessarily chuck it in the same company as ‘dad jokes.’ Those were mostly puns, weren’t they? Was it a joke? Sort of? She wanted it to come off as at least humorous but there was no set-up, at least nothing that wasn’t just recycled into it, and no hilarious punchline. Basically, she just repeated what Ariadne had said for the most part. Either way, though, she was just glad it was appreciated, so to speak, and she acknowledged that a polite smile and a brief nod.

“Together,” Meera nodded again, gesturing toward the purchase. “They do taste great together, but of course, feel free to take them separately or with others that may be more suitable to your taste and preference. Dharward peda should go well with any tea.” At least she hoped. Truth be told, Meera hadn’t tried it with all the teas. There were far too many possible combinations out there, and she hadn’t even tried all the teas that existed. “Yes! That would be lovely! Bring everyone! All your friends. We’d love to meet them and share our love of teas with your friends and family!”

“You know so much.” Ariadne said, eyes wide, truly in awe. “I’m for sure gonna come back.” There was no reason not to, with the drinks and good being as good as they were, and with the women being so endlessly kind and accommodating. “I don’t - well, I don’t have a lot of friends, but I can bring the ones I do have, promise!”

She took another bite of her dessert and a sip of the tea. “These are perfect.” Another nod. “You know, I’m really glad I came here.”

#wickedswriting #a cup of stars #chatzy #writing #c meera #// meera and dee are both perfect!!#i loved this thread so much :') it's really soft and i can't wait to write more with these two

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petitsdieuarchive · 2 years ago

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𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒. ; “ you need to get out of here! go! i’ll buy you some more time! “

It was supposed to be a little innocent fun. They sneak up, find a cozy little bar, sip away on sweet bubbly. The night had a good start. But had been rudely interrupted. At first she thought them to be nameless hired hands of her family. Or perhaps someone else they knew who she was and figured to take advantage of the lack of protection. But then she sees him. Dark hair, darker eyes, an annoyed expression on his face that only those with her blood could wear. Hara grabs onto Ahsoka’s arm.

“The tall one in the middle. That’s my brother. I think I can reason with him.” She’s half certain. Or more accurately, quarter way certain. Because the turned over table they’re hiding behind currently isn’t doing anything but working against her favor. Despite her trying to run away from him, all this violence and brut force seemed unnecessary.

“Emerton, please! Stop this.” She’s yet to stand. Or move her hand off of Ahsoka. Her tremble most be felt, completely dissolving the illusion of her confidence. When she stands, she’s surprised to see Emerton pointing a gun in her direction. It was Emerton that she thought loved her the most of her siblings, or her family for that matter. Second oldest, with a sense of doubt for what this family stood for. But at the end of the day, he’d never turn his back completely on the family name. It was too engrained in him. “Let us go.”

“You know I can’t do that.” Emerton takes a few steps forward. His men lingering behind him.

“And you know I can’t go back.” Never mind how upset her family is with her. This isn’t the first time she’s disgraced them in some matter that interred with alliances or plans. She fears what punishment awaits her — and if she’d even have a head on her shoulders by the end of it. “She’s just a girl, Emerton. She has nothing to do with this. She was just out with me tonight for some fun. She doesn’t even know who I am.” She refers to Ahsoka, who she’s grown some affection for in the short span she’s known her. She’d hate for her to die over this and hopes Ahsoka doesn’t reveal herself to be who she really is.

𝒇𝒕. @lethalwound

#lethalwound #a concept.. ahsoka wearing one of hara's dressing up and trying to have a girls girl night

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wonderteez233 · 2 years ago

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Chapter #1:The big leagues

Warning: talks of violence, some cursing, tell me if I left anything out, please

Ps.Please do not copy my work, the writing is mine ALL mine, any pictures, names, ect, do not belong to me

words:1690

Y/N POV:

My arms crossed and a serious look on my face, analyzing the way they fought

I could hear everyone around me screaming, cheering, like this was something that supposed to be exiting

I never understood, why there was so many people that practiced fighting, knowing the reason why we have to fight at all is because the rich people, that have the power to make us all be able to live like we all rightfully deserve, well some of us deserve, make us fight for little pieces of bread or maybe $5 that w are supposed to make stretch for a week with our entire family, if some people even bother to give some to their families. We know how people are, people are selfish

Instead of using our fire power against the ones that have put us in the hard situations we have to go through, we decide no, why don't we fight each other, we literally do this for a living, while the privileged lounger around in their castles, and have hissy fits about losing their diamond earring's

we're not even supposed to be here, we could all get in trouble for this, but yet were all still here, fighting tooth and nail with each other, trying to survive

surviving

not living, which is what we were put on this earth for, but surviving, having to be beaten black and blue, just put food on the table, if your weak then you go home with absolutely nothing, probably less than what you came here with

I watched as the bigger guy was absolutely embarrassing the smaller, scrawnier looking dude

I don't think you should judge who is gonna win a fight, based on who looks bigger

I've beaten multiple people that were over 60 pound bigger than me, people 2, 3 feet bigger than me

I have beaten so many people that have had so many different advantages over me

I guess you can say I'm apart of the big leages

but I knew better than that, some of the people that are known for being strong and beating records of the most fights won, got cocky, to cocky, there ego got the best of them, and eventually they ruined it for themselves, and it is a forever cycle

I knew to keep myself humble, and to try and keep a low profile, come out and fight when I needed the money, and go back into hiding in the small house with my family

But I'm getting tired of hiding, the stress in my parent's voices when they leave work, just to know that the 6 oldest of the family were either high, drunk, or out partying with friends

speaking of my family, I have 13 siblings, 14 of us in total, I am the middle child, the 7th child

being that my older sibling are out partying, or too drunk to function at home, I'm the one put in charge of the rest of the kids

the other half of us, the younger ones are ages 1-15, the 15-year-old usually being the one to help me take care of the rest

thinking of my family, I probably should be getting back home before everybody starts waking up, especially my parents, they don't know I even fight for money

They think money just appears on their dresser out of nowhere, or that they misplaced it, and I want to keep it that way

As I was finally coming out of my thoughts, I heard gunshots, screaming

I looked around to see what was happening

and sure, enough I could see the police all around us, grabbing people, tazing them, guns pointed to the ceiling, threatening to shoot us with them

They had found us

The police had come and found us, I knew they would at some point tonight, they usually do,I wasn't worried though, I've been in to many of these situations to be worried

instead of running an trying to get out of the building like everybody else, and going through an emergency exit the planners of this fight had told us to go to if this happened. I had scoped out a few windows to break out of

Before I did anything, I looked around to see where all the police were, and of course they were surrounding every corner of the building, no less than 10 in each corner. The entrances and exits would obviously have the most officers in front of them. This is why I usually wear all black clothing, so they can't identify me doesn't matter is it's a small or big crowd, or in a situation wear there is a big crowd but also a lot of officers

Unlucky for me, the windows were just a little ways away from one of exits of the building

I was walking towards the windows making sure to keep my hood down, making sure they can't see any part of my face

Just when I was about to finally pass the police that were in front of the windows, I saw a small girl that was trying to get away from them, she looked younger than me, maybe around my 15 ear old sisters age

Y/N-oh fuck(I mutter)

I tried to get my sister out of my mind, because I knew for a fact that if she reminded me of my sister I wouldn't be able to go back to my sister until I got the girl

I kept glancing at her and I could tell she was crying and screaming for someone specific

I looked around in the direction of were she was yelling and reaching for, while I was moving slower than I was before trying to get a good view, but not be caught in the crowd or by the police.

I saw male looking at her, trying to fight trough the crowd with a pained look on his face.I could't see him well with everybody in the way, but I could definitely see the pain in his eyes while crying her name out.

The more I looked at him, the more I recognize that he was one of the many fighters that fought tonight.Now that I examined a bit further I could see a few scars on his face. Only a few though, and if I remember correctly he was one of the better fighters

??-LAURA!!

Out of all the yells and screams for help in the room, I could hear his scream the clearest

I had stopped moving at this point, getting pushed around by people trying to get away

I kept looking back in between him and the girl, imagining me and my sister in this situation. I knew I would want someone to make sure she would get saved, as long as she didn't go with the police

I pulled my mask up onto my nose and mouth from my chin,that's when I decided I was going to risk it

I started moving towards them fast, and once I was there, I knew there was no going back

The first thing I thought to do was punch the one that was holding the girls arms behind her back, good thing I kept my rings on. There was so many of them that could easily stop trying with the person they were trying to get and put there attention on me, and that was exactly what they did

I could see one from the corner of my eye,trying to grab me, I elbowed him in face and than kicked another one

At this point I refuse to leave the girl and leave out of here without leaving a little bit of damage on these guys

I don't even have time to think of my next move anymore, there are so many punches and kicks coming at me at once, that I'm just doing whatever move my body is telling me it wants to do

Finally, after a few minute of fighting and trying to get the police to let go of the girl,I was able to get her free, I could still here the guy that was calling out for her voice in the back of my head

I grab onto her arm and put her in front of me so know no else is able to grab her, and rush to get as far as I can from the police

I could hear and feel her struggling

Laura: LET ME GO(she kept scratching me, and hitting me)

Y/N: l-LISTEN TO ME

I grabbed her arms harshly, trying to get her to stop.I kept looking behind us to make sure the police got distracted by some of the others

I knelt down on the floor to make it harder for everyone else to see us, and brought Laura down with me

Y/N: You HAVE to stop and listen to me...(I grabbed her chin and forced her to look at me)we don't have time, I'm going to help me, you just have to trust me

I waited on a response from her, and after a while I saw a little nod from her

I reached into my pant pocket quickly and pulled out my knife

Y/N: you are going take this and follow me, let me do the fighting and talking if we have to, and if we get split up, you run okay?

She just stood there, staring at me, with a horrified look on her face

Y/N: you have to cooperate and communicate with me, so we both don't die...so I asked you, do I make myself clear (I said harshly)

Laura: yes mam

Y/N: lets go

I came up and pulled Laura with me. I looked behind me and could see the police looking around for someone, most likely me

I pulled us both forward and kept looking back to make sure we were good, and we finally made it to the windows

Y/N: get on by back, hurry up

She jumped onto my back and I stood all the way straight so she could reach the window

Y/N: climb on my shoulder and, climb out of the window

Laura: b-but what if it's to high

Y/N: Laura you have to, jumping is better than dying, and I doubt that even if it is high that you would get hurt that badly

She used all of her strength to pull herself the rest of the way and was out the window

I made sure she was all the way up and stood back up. I looked back behind me only to see the same police that I was fighting before and a few more, rushing towards me with angered looks on their face

Author Note:

How do y'all feel about this first chapter

I was really in the zone when I was writing this, and I like how it turned out, but I want to see how you guys feel about it

I feel like there is a lot of ways I could go with this story and I already have a few noted for the next chapter

Who was the guy that was calling out Laura's name

If you read the character introductions you probably already know

Anyways,I will leave this here

Tell me any suggestions you have for me, I would love to look through them and possibly add them into this story or future story's I may write

Feel free to put any criticism about my writing in the comments, or just comments something I like talking to people, and really makes me feel good knowing people enjoy things I create

THANK YOU ALL FOR READINGGG!!!

Fight of survival masterlist-

#bts fanfic #bts x female reader #fanfics #bts suga #bangtan #bts jhope #seokjin #strong female characters #bts v #jimin #bts namjoon #bts fantasy au #bts x reader #bts x black girl #bts jungkook #bts

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cellsshapedlikestars · 3 years ago

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If you are accepting prompts--how about Sansa and Jon being on opposite sides of a political contest? Prime Minister Rhaegar Targaryen is forced to call a referendum for Northern independence, as demanded by the Northern Nationalists party. He is campaigning in the North for a United Westeros, taking his second wife Lyanna Stark and their son Jon along, toshow how hollow all talk if Northern independence is. However, this means that Jon keeps running into his Stark cousins, particularly Sansa Stark, who accompanies her parents to every debate and campaign rally...

I've been sitting on this for a while (and yes, I do see all the anon prompts, I promise!) and I've sort of been writing this on and off since I got it. The thing is, I have no point of reference for these politics, I'm assuming you wanted something like the Scottish independence movement, which I have almost no knowledge of as I am a dumb American who can barely handle American politics without spiraling into anxiety and depression. So, I've sort of talked around the specifics and hopefully I haven't gotten anything too crazy wrong.

Also, you mention his Stark cousins, but... well, I cannot do modern incest. I can handle them being cousins in olden times where it was acceptable & common (I can't even handle the sibling incest aspect in any time period), but I was writing this modern and that's a hard nope for me. I know it's a fairly predominant part of this fandom and if it's your thing, absolutely have at it! There is no kink shaming in this house. It's just not for me and I couldn't write it, sorry!

Also, as usual, this turned out longer than I intended since these are supposed to be drabbles mostly. But 'drabbles' for me always end up like 2k words

Jon sits in the window seat of the jet, headphones on and turned up. Somewhere behind him, he knows his parents are sitting, likely talking strategy. He knows dad wants him to join in, but Jon's in no mood to talk politics. It's what got him in this situation to begin with.

That stupid reporter. Jon's stupid response.

Jon! How do you feel about Northern Independence?

I say let them.

It's what he believes, honestly – if the North wants independence, why not? The rest of the SK treats them like shit anyway, why not let them break off, like Dorne did? It's not a naming issue – they're still called the Seven Kingdoms despite losing Dorne decades ago, so what if they're technically only six now? Jon knows it's about more than that – it's economics and politics and... well, pride. The SK can't lose another piece of their kingdom – nevermind that piece has been conquered and beaten down multiple times over hundreds of years. Northern Independence isn't a new concept – it's just been met with military resistance every time and stamped out. But they aren't in the middle ages anymore.

For a moment he turns his head to look behind him – to see mom with her head bowed in conversation with dad and something ugly twists in Jon's stomach.

He knows dad only married mom because she got pregnant – because his political career was just taking off and a mistress and bastard would have ruined him. And mom, she'd been so young, she's convinced herself he married her for love. Jon swears that mom used to be different. She used to argue with Rhaegar all the time about politics, he even remembers her bringing up Northern Independence when Jon was just a kid. But over the years she's had to play the perfect wife for him and somewhere along the way it just... stuck. Mom isn't his mom anymore. No, mom is what Rhaegar's political advisors want her to be.

So even though Jon had wanted to protest this trip, there's also a part of him desperately clinging to the hope that when they get North, mom will snap out of it. When she's home, maybe she'll be his mom again.

Especially since the leader of the opposition is an old friend of hers.

Ned Stark.

Dad doesn't react to much, he's a politician to his core, so seeing him get riled anytime Ned Stark is on TV is notable. In fact, there's a rebellious part of Jon that already likes Ned Stark simply for the fact that dad hates him so much. There's more to like than just that, Jon knows – Ned Stark seems like one of those politicians that's doing the job because they want to make a difference. They're rare, nowadays, but Jon's been surrounded by politicians his whole life and he can spot the do-gooders from a mile away.

He thinks it's partly why dad hates it – Ned Stark doesn't use the same underhanded tactics Rhaegar's used to, and from everything Jon's heard, there's nothing to use against Ned. The only skeleton dad's advisors had ever found tucked away in Ned Stark's closet had been that his wife, Catelyn, had originally dated his older brother Brandon, who died in a car accident. They'd begun dating and married shortly after - a minor scandal that hadn't gained any traction, considering they've been married for over twenty years with five children.

Dad was hoping to get somewhere with the youngest daughter, Arya, who always seemed more wild than the rest of her siblings (except maybe the youngest, Rickon). The problem is that she's never done anything really wrong and the North loves her. The oldest son Robb is as perfect a son as any politician could hope for and Jon sometimes wonders if dad would rather have Robb than Jon.

The other two sons are still fairly young and going after them would only make dad look like the bad guy. Then there's Sansa.

Jon remembers her from growing up – not that he'd ever met her, but they're both kids of prominent politicians and he's seen her in photos since she was old enough to walk. A proper lady, he remembers even the southern press naming her. Perfect, just like her older brother.

A hand on his shoulder jolts him out of his thoughts and he turns to see mom, who motions at him to take off his headphones.

“We're landing in a half hour and your father would like to go over your role,” she tells him with a perfect, bland smile. (She hasn't been his mother for a very long time.)

“I know my role,” he says and he can't help the bitter tone to his voice. “Stay quite, don't talk to the press. Pretty easy to remember.”

“And yet you still managed to nearly undermine my entire campaign with one flippant remark,” dad's voice calls over from his seat, low and smooth, though Jon absolutely hears the annoyance underneath it.

“Oh, he's just a child,” mom says, trying to play the peacekeeper like she always does.

“He's twenty, he's hardly a child,” dad starts, but Jon doesn't listen to the rest. He pulls his headphones back over his ears and looks back out the window and tries to pretend he's anywhere else.

…

By the time they reach Winterfell Castle, Jon is in a bad mood.

Not that he hadn't been before, but he's not allowed his headphones in the limo and so he'd had to listen to dad talk nonstop about his two favorite topics: Jon's failure as a son and how much he hates Ned Stark. And the way mom doesn't even try to defend Ned Stark like she used to infuriates Jon even more.

Jon hates his tuxedo and he hates that they barely had any time between landing and having to get ready for this dinner and he hates that he's going to have to smile and shake hands with a bunch of people who hate him on principle, simply for who his father is. For what his father represents.

When he does step out of the limo, he ignores every photographer and reporter that shouts his name, eager to get any sort of scandal out of him.

He doesn't blame them for this, he's given them enough over the years – not just his apparent support of Northern Independence, but everything else he's done to gain his notoriety. His reputation as a heartbreaker and a playboy that's mostly over-exaggerated, that time he punched a teacher (though to be fair, Thorne deserved it)... Teenage rebellion, they'd written it off as, but he's no longer a teenager and he knows he should grow up and stop doing things to piss off his father at some point.

(His favorite one had been sleeping with that investigative journalist when he was seventeen. She'd been older than him by a good few years and he'd known she was using him to write an article, but he was using her just as much to infuriate his father. His only true regret is that Ygritte's article hadn't done any real lasting damage to Rhaegar's reputation.)

Inside, there aren't any reporters but there are politicians everywhere and that's worse. He does the bare minimum to not cause an issue – he shakes hands and says hello, though he refuses to smile while doing it. They already hate him for being Rhaegar Targaryen's son. They already hate him for being Northern-traitor Lyanna Snow's son.

He keeps an eye on mom to see how she's doing and his heart twists painfully in his chest when he sees her. She has a bright smile on her face and anyone who didn't know her would think she's fine, but Jon can see how pale she is under her makeup. This is the first time she's been back in the North since she married dad and he has a sudden, sharp pang of hatred for Rhaegar – for getting her pregnant, for marrying her, for never letting her go back. For turning her into this.

He can tell the moment Ned Stark enters the room because mom freezes. And sure enough, there he is – beautiful wife at his side, the three adult children with him. Robb, Sansa, Arya. Jon's eyes scan over them – Robb with his perfect hair and smile, an easy way about him that's always come through even on camera. Sansa standing poised and almost too beautiful to believe – Jon's only ever seen her on film and somehow she's even more unreal in person. Arya, who by all accounts hates politics as much as Jon does, stands firmly by her family and Jon gets the sense she only hates the system, not her dad. Not like Jon.

As Jon scans the room, he can see other families here that he recognizes – the Greyjoys, including Robb Stark's best friend Theon. The Manderlys, the Karstarks, the Ryswells, the Boltons, the Mormonts. More families than Jon cares to remember.

There's a sense of someone behind him and he turns just enough to see that dad has come up to stand next to him. For a moment, dad just stands there before turning his head ever so slightly and bringing his mouth close to Jon's ear and he says so low Jon can barely even hear it - “if you do anything to embarrass me tonight, there will be consequences. If you do anything that makes it seem like you support this pathetic independence movement, there will be consequences. Do you understand me?”

Jon feels blind rage that winds so hot in his chest it makes him shake and his vision narrow. He has to close his eyes and take a deep breath before he can answer, and he grits out, “of course.” Dad nods and moves away, putting on his best politician smile as he goes to greet Howland Reed.

Mom shoots him a concerned look, but Jon ignores her. He can feel it building in him – that rebelliousness the press likes to talk about so much. He wants to hurt Rhaegar. For everything – for his mother, for all the people dad's stepped on and hurt. He wants to embarrass him, consequences be damned.

Just as he's thinking this, his eyes catch on copper hair and bright blue eyes.

Sansa Stark.

Darling of the press. Perfect Northern princess.

It takes root in his mind, against his better judgment. What would make Rhaegar more furious than an affair between his son and the daughter of Ned Stark?

Jon can't imagine Sansa would be amenable to the suggestion, not like Ygritte had been – there is no mutually beneficial agreement here. She would never agree to do something that might embarrass her father (and once again, Jon is reminded of the, pun intended, stark difference between his relationship with his father and the Stark children's relationship with Ned. Jon has never even met them in person and he knows this).

So he can't approach her with any sort of offer or plan. No, he'd have to pretend it was real.

He's going to have to seduce Sansa Stark.

#jonsa #prompt fic #ask #oooh boy do i know nothing of politics #and political families #do not @ me #is this boring?#probably #jonsa fic

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shadyreviewengineer · 3 years ago

Text

Sweet Magnolias Season 2

Its here! I have so far watched it twice, and here are my unasked for thoughts, hope you enjoy

Also - SPOILERS, SPOILERS, SPOILERS

So in no particular order -

- Somehow it didn't feel like SM, did anyone else get that? I still enjoyed it, and I don't know what it was, I think maybe because they used different music during transitions, but something felt off (still good though)

- Ok, I find it annoying sometimes when writers need to add something in to a show after the firsts season, but end up doing it jarringly, however I liked that anything they needed to add in the s02 they definitely did due diligence throughout the season, it didn't come out of the blue when Cal lost control and got arrested.

Eg - Cal's anger management issues. They defiantly hinted at it throughout the season, many times, even if they did do it a bit clunkily

- Dana Sue's health issues mysteriously vanishing, I get them not being a main plot point, but the fact they weren't mentioned once? Sus

- Annie and Jackson. Dare I say, maybe one of my favourite redemption arcs since Zuko lol. So, I am definitely team Tyler, however I love this paring, I love Jackson's actor and their storyline.

My issue with the storyline though is that one of my least favourite troupes is when they have two characters cheat on their partners with each other and we're supposed to root for them because they're 'endgame'. It always completely turns me off the characters and I really hope that Jackson and Annie don't end up in that situation and their breakup feels organic. I kind of hope Jackson's family have to move when his Dad's been disgraced and is no longer mayor and thats why they break up.

- I felt like the adult side got more love and screentime this season, and I'm not happy about it. I don't know if the demographic is mostly older so they wanted to lean more to that, but I wish the youngsters had had more screentime.

- Esepcially Cece. How could they do her dirty like this? She was iconic in s01 and she was hardly there in s02. At least her reasons for breakup with Ty felt in charcter for her, but it did bug me when Ty said 'you hurt me' and Cece said 'no I didn't'. Like, yes, Cece may be more hurt and have more right to be hurt, and yes Ty might have blown her off for a bit too, but you can't decide when you've upset someone or not Cece.

- my faves Aunty Helen and Annie had like no scenes together #werevoltatdawn

- Kyle, Ty, and Annie weren't talking for awhile, and I get that things ended weirdly, and we did have Kyle blow up at Annie, and Annie mentioning that there was too much drama with her usual group, but I wish we'd kind of got more explanation on screen? Like seen them together being awkward a bit more? idk, it just felt jarring that these kids that were supposed to be like siblings wouldn't manage to band together after such a big shock and one of them almost dying?

Also wish we'd gotten more of them coming back together? They just kind of made up in one meeting again. Yes it be like that when you've known someone forever, but also, it would have been nice to see a few more meetings

Basically it felt like the writers didn't know what to do/where to take them/didn't want to give them too much screen time and so separated the kids for practically the whole season idk, it might be just me

- Although I did like how they made Kyle and Tyler argue and make up, and Tyler taking the reins as the oldest kid and trying to make nice with everyone was sweet.

- Also Kyle, Sophie, and co making the video game was so sweet and fun

- Although I completely misread Sophie, I thought there was gonna be drama with Nellie and her for Kyle, but actually Sophie recognised Kyle's feelings and encouraged them. Good for her.

- Gutted for Helen, I just wanted to give her a hug.

- Also, Helen's set up for next season is killing me.

OK, s01 Helen was kind of with Ryan, kind of flirting with Erik, and s02, she's with Eric. We've done the Eric/Ryan who will she chose thing, and then Ryan reappears, and I don't know if I'll be more annoyed about them making an unclimactic cliff hanger like this time, or dragging it out all season and basically give her the same storyline as s01 but with more complications, but Helen should've told Ryan about the baby if she wanted to and drawn a line under him and that shoudve been season 2's Ryan, gone for good.

- Also, s01 Jackson makes me completely understand why Tyler would be suspicious of him and Annie hanging out. Jackson sent Annie's drunk, love declaration voice note to the whole school. Tyler being weary of Jackson because he hanging out with Annie is entirely plausible in a completely platonic way. Yes, I want it to be because Tyler has realised his feelings, but also, I think Cece assuming it was just co Ty liked Annie was a but ott, maybe if there had been other instances that could have rose suspicion, but in s02 there wasn't really, and I can't think of many on s01. And I do understand sometimes when you're dating someoen or kow them well you just know when they have feelings or whatever, but we're talking about a couple of 17yo with very little prior expericne (if any) with relationships who've been dating a few months at most.

- Also, no married, never been in a relationship, but I don't understand Maddie's reaction when Bill tells her about Issac? Like, yes I can understand her being upset and furious, but because of the her kids, but she says things which I understand, except that Bill didn't know. He had no idea, and so yes he made the same mistake twice and he is an idiot and moron, but if you didn't know you'd made the mistake the first time, can that really be held against you? and i personally think we can see from the Noreen situation that if he had known he would probably have done his best to do right by Peggy instead of his existing (if 'not serious') gf maddie

I mean, I'm not mad Bill got yelled at, because he can never get yelled at enough , but just some of the arguments I didn't understand where Maddie was coming from

- THE COFFEE THING at least we got to see Aunt Helen with Ty, even if there was no Aunt Helen and Annie

- the costumes were on fire. why am i, a 21 yo, vibing with Helen and Maddie's outfits so much?

- Finally can we takl about the grown up adult woman walking up to a teenager her insulting her? That is so funny

#sweet magnolia's #sweet magnolias netflix #sweet magnolias tv show #love this show

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sun-summoning · 4 years ago

Text

part ii | part iii | part iv

after speaking to kido, sakura rushes home. when she calms down from the rage that nearly had her crush his throat, sakura can admit that she doesn’t really think this is him. he knew a lot about her for someone that was supposed to have been locked up all this time, but he seemed genuinely surprised to hear that sarada had been taken, if not disappointed. he fit the profile of what shikamaru and kakashi thought -- that someone wanted sarada for her eyes -- but sakura can’t stop the nagging feeling that somehow this runs deeper.

back in her apartment, megumi’s body is right where she left it, and sakura feels awful for having moved so mechanically. megumi was an orphan, but she was still someone’s little girl. ashamed, sakura lays a sheet over her and swears she’ll do more later.

she heads to her bedroom and begins her work. alone, she summons one of the cats she’d made a contract with shortly after her marriage. the black cat is sleek and holds himself confidently. he’s always been an efficient one, quick to do as she needs and be competent about it. he regards sakura with a cock of his head.

“sarada’s been taken.”

“your daughter.”

“yes.”

the cat nods. “i shall inform the clowder. if anyone spots her, i will let you know.”

“thank you.” sakura pauses, self-conscious for needing to rely on everybody else for this part. “if you...if any of you are able to come into contact with sasuke-kun, can you pease let him know too?”

“of course.”

“thank you.” sakura promises to provide the usual exchange at a later time and the cat disappears with a puff of smoke. she heads to her bedroom and she begins to pack in silence.

her movements are as meticulous as they are automatic, done just so she’s ready to leave the moment she knows where she needs to go. her medkit is stocked. her bag has scrolls, weapons, supplies, and sarada’s favourite toy. she changes out of her days clothes and into the leggings and turtleneck of a uniform she hasn’t worn in years. her cloak is in the front closet. she needs to change her boots. she’ll put on the boots now. she leaves the armour on her bed to don later. right now, they only hinder her movements. she goes to the drawer where her mask hides in plain sight among other trinkets and knick knacks, and on the dresser she notices a flower.

sakura stills as she takes in the detail she must have missed in her earlier haste. she considers the simple glass vase and the single red flower sitting in it. its petals curl at the ends and some are even missing.

this flower has travelled and as sakura considers what it is, she knows it’s travelled far.

konoha became unbearable by the time she tuned twenty. it's so petty and selfish and she'd never say it aloud, but she hated seeing everyone else so happy. she's happy too -- has so many reasons to be -- but she couldn’t help the nagging jealousy she feels when ino declined her invitations because she was going to see sai or when naruto prioritized her almost always only to head home to hinata.

she wanted to be someone's too. she wanted to be their focus and heart and home, but sakura already knew who her someone was and knew that on some level she was his too, so all she needs to do right now is wait.

most of the time, sakura wasn’t bitter. being apart from him wasn't unfamiliar, nor the steadfastness, nor the hope that one day this will pay off one day, nor the self reminders that what she felt was irrelevant as long as sasuke knew and was comforted by the fact that she would always love him.

to suppress her frustrations rather than confront them, sakura worked. she worked tirelessly and relentlessly and by nineteen, they'd named her the greatest medical ninja konoha has ever seen for her accomplishments, ideas, and innovations.

this took her to suna at twenty and to ame at twenty-one to help establish their own clinics.

“i have a gift for you,” ino told her before she left.

sakura expected a ribbon or a piece of jewellery or that new book on poisons she mentioned she was interested in. instead, ino handed her a bag. its contents shift, imbalanced, and inside sakura finds a potted plant.

“a flower?”

“not just any flower, you ungrateful bitch.” ino pointed at her accusingly and then at the plant. its petals are a bright red with darker flecks at their base. “i made it.”

“you made it?”

“yes. you know me, interrogating and mind-reading by day, splicing plants together and making my own by night.”

“that’s sad.”

“fuck you. you’re sad.”

sakura laughed and ino laughed too but it got a bit sad because ino probably definitely knew that sakura was sad. “anyway,” ino continued, “we’ll call it the sakuino flower--”

“how creative.”

“--and i expect you to keep it alive through all of your travels.”

sakura frowned at ino, wondering if ino understood that a potted plant had no place in her travels, but ino didn’t seem to care. moreover, this particular thing didn’t seem to have the ability to survive in the desert climate she was going to be living in for the next six months.

when sakura expressed as much, ino waved the matter off. “deal with it,” she said, giving sakura one last hug. “you’re one of the brightest minds to come out of this village. you’ll figure something out.”

its common name is the fire poppy, having originated from the fire country but somehow managing to survive in the deserts of wind country as well. the flower is know for its vibrant red petals, eye-catching and jarring across the barren brown it’s normally found in. sakura had to play with the original plant’s physiology when she first moved to ensure it could survive the alternate climate. in her spare time, when she wasn’t working with the kids, she deigned to work with her plant, eventually working on cloning the original. at some point she’d given one to a nurse she worked with who much admired the first, and gaara asked if he could try planting them in his garden. from there, the spores began to spread.

“why the fire poppy?”

was this someone from suna?

sakura considers the obvious motivation of revenge, but who would even want that? there were people who didn’t appreciate her friendship with kankuro or any of his siblings. perhaps an apprentice of chiyo’s who blamed sakura for not saving her when she gave her life for gaara’s. worse, perhaps someone that once worked sasori who resented her for his demise. or maybe someone she, sadly, can’t even remember. a patient she lost during the war whose family hated her.

sakura truly cannot pinpoint a motivation for this, much less a person.

especially a person that would understand the meaning of this flower for her.

ino would never give her this flower. ino would have scoffed at it and created her own. sarada couldn’t have picked it today. and sasuke certainly couldn’t have left it for her.

someone was in her apartment. someone brought it here.

was it here before?

sakura considers the poppy and forces herself to keep calm. stay logical, she demands. stay smart. was the poppy there before? no, she thinks at first. she would have seen it. she’s certain she would have seen it.

but, she can accept, it’s possible she might have missed it. sarada was taken. her babysitter was murdered. it wouldn’t be surprising if sakura missed it. but sakura doesn’t miss things. right?

“don’t gaslight yourself,” she orders.

no, she knows. the flower was not there before, meaning in between her going to kakashi, going to the prison, and then running back home, whoever took her daughter came back.

or worse, there was a team involved and one was with her child and another came back for her.

sakura curses, wishing she’d put on her black ops armour earlier, because whoever brought the flower here is now making their presence known. she senses two people before she sees them and is unsurprised to find sudden flares of strength.

the bedroom is small and they’re in a building. she needs to take this outside, but where? there’s too much risk for others getting hurt in the crossfire. that’s why this was supposed to stay quiet. that’s why this will stay quiet.

they step out of the shadows and sakura assesses them quickly. one male, one female, both fairly young based on stature and development, maybe early twenties at the oldest. they’ll have agility on her, but they won’t have her experience.

the man holds a chokuto. good. an advantage. sakura is excellent at fighting against such a weapon. if they’re foolish enough to use her husband’s favourite sort of blade, perhaps they didn’t do enough research on her. perhaps they were hired? but if they were unprepared, then were they really here to kill her?

are they here to distract her?

that thought fills sakura with dread. is someone trying to keep her busy so she can’t get to sarada on time?

the woman shifts, one leg sliding to the side as she raises her hands. she holds no weapons, therefore she is the weapon. sakura knows all about that. she’ll need to be careful with this one. but she still has a holster on her thigh. it’s thinner that the usual styles. maybe a couple kunai, but more likely a set of sebon. this one is smart then. she’ll know precisely where she needs to hit sakura to stop her.

“haruno sakura,” the man greets with a short nod.

so it is her fault.

if this was about sasuke, about the uchiha, they would know her married name. this is about her, and for that sakura feels worse. her baby was taken and why? just to hurt sakura before killing her? sarada was who knows where with surely no one that could be good and all just to hurt sakura?

sakura snarls, furious in a way only a mother could be, and she feels the chakra pulsing around her fists.

“where is my daughter?”

their masks hide any expressions. they remain at ease in the face of her rage, shockingly unafraid of this woman that can level mountains.

good, sakura thinks. let them be brave. let them come at her like fools.

she runs through the bedroom door to get to the living room where there’s at least more space to maneuver. the man leaps and brings his blade down upon her, but sakura manages to shift to the side. careful to not be forced into a corner, she spins out of his range and into the open middle until the woman runs past her partner and takes sakura on hand-to-hand.

she matches sakura’s punches and kicks blow for blow. she’s good, sakura thinks nervously. and she’s fast. she’s small, maybe half a head shorter than sakura, so she puts her weight behind every quick jab. sakura gives most of her attention to the woman, but keeps a wary on eye on the man who sheathes his chokuto.

what as he planning?

it takes that one moment for the woman to catch her unaware.

sakura chokes on her breath as the woman thrusts a senbon into her shoulder. the shock from that slows her down enough so she can lodge in a second.

“shit,” sakura curses as she stumbles back. she rips the senbon out, but she feels her left arm begin to go numb from the struck pressure point. “what did you do--”

sakura’s eyes widen she she feels something foreign begin to course through her. she considers the senbon, dark with her blood and likely something else. there’s a metallic smell that isn’t from the weapon, and sakura knows she’s been poisoned.

however, her body doesn’t bother to fight it.

sakura watches her opponents, trying to understand how she’s been poisoned with something she’s immune to and just what poison this might be. she’s immune to everything in konoha’s own collection, as well as the ones she shares with shizune.

which poison is this?

does that matter?

sakura scowls at the two people involved in her daughter’s kidnapping and reminds herself that she can take them on one-handed just fine. she pulls her right hand into a fist and charges. the man is closest, so she lunges at him with a chakra-laden punch that sends him barreling into the wall.

she grabs the front of his shirt and as she pulls him forward, his mask falls away to reveal green eyes, cold and lifeless, and a black diamond under his left eye that makes her uneasy.

sakura stares at the man, confused, because she knows this face.

she knows him.

her fear and pain and worry makes it hard to focus, but knows him.

focus.

finally, it clicks.

“isao?”

she thinks she might have seen something like recognition in his eyes. that doesn’t long though. she left herself open, and his partner stabs her shoulder. sakura releases isao with a cry before the woman punches her in the back of the head and everything goes dark.

the sun is up when sakura begins to stir. she hears the birds chirping and people outside going about their days. but the buzz of the television is missing, as are the small thuds of sarada’s steps. where is sarada? sakura wonders hazily, lazily, not quite understanding yet.

where is sarada?

her eyes widen and she sits up so quickly her stomach rolls.

“careful.” tsunade comes into view, steadying sakura and checking her for any problems. “you’re still healing.”

she’s in her own bed. she’s not at the hospital. she got knocked out and the assassins got away. she should’ve done something to track them. dammit. was she so arrogant she didn’t have a failsafe in place for if she didn’t simply beat them? sakura punches the bed, earning a disapproving frown from shizune on her other side.

“there was poison in your system.”

“it was one of ours,” sakura admits warily.

“yes. there are very few people with access to those, much less this particular one.”

the one that the assassin used was meant to render a victim paralyzed but still able to feel. it was a dreadful thing, meant only for the worst of interrogations. or, more accurately, for torture. sakura concocted it in her darkest moments at fourteen under shizune’s watchful eye. since then, while they’ve both had small handfuls of keen students, they’ve probably shared poisons from their personal roster with only five people at most.

for this particular poison, sakura knows only two people they showed it to, and only one of those was a student of sakura’s.

“how did you find me?”

tsunade rolls her eyes. “shizune sent you off to a prison from kakashi’s office. i figured i’d have to check on you shortly after. and it’s a good thing i did, stupid girl.”

“thank you.”

“don’t thank me. i’m scolding on you.”

“did they find anything useful?”

“no one’s been able to contact your husband.”

“right.”

“and they’re still under the impression that this has to do with the uchiha blood.”

“they would be,” sakura mutters, too tired and in too good company to be anything but blunt.

shizune sighs. “do you know who came after you last night?” the flower is still where she left it on the dresser. shizune follows her gaze to the fire poppy, and all knowing with plants as well, shizune determines its origins. “how did that get here?”

“i think it was to taunt me.” sakura grimaces. “you were right.”

“about?”

“i think this is my fault.”

shizune’s eyes widen and quickly soften with sympathy. “none of this your fault,” she reminds sakura.

tsunade crosses her arms. “enemies of yours then?”

“no.” sakura looks sad. “people i once loved.”

tbc

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dontcallmecarrie · 3 years ago

Text

Replying to the commenters of this post [heads up for angst]:

To @kine-iende, who said:

hot damn. if "our" justin was a mom-friend in their home-universe, here people would start questioning if justin was in secret a very motherly scrull or something (and be fine with it ^^). but yeah, love the trope too. was it "for the want of a nail" or "through a mirrorm darkly"? well, contrast and a what could have been would be lovely. feel enabled, whenever you want to write this :)

I am not very familiar with the concept of Skrulls [...iirc, that’s something introduced in Captain Marvel, which I have yet to get around to], but yeah, that tracks. Assuming it’s a thing they know to look for, though, because here Justin’s being themself is the biggest and most obvious way to establish that they are not canon!Justin.

Sure, they’re identical physically, but the moment either Justin opens his mouth, the jig’s up.

As is, not five minutes into this strange hellscape where their oldest rival looked at them with no small amount of disdain in his eyes at first, Justin had already managed to charm their way out of holding and into a very relaxed “we’ll keep an eye on him” Avengers custody.

Well, on paper at least— in reality, most of the team doesn’t really give a damn one way or another, whereas Tony starts out morbidly curious as to just how different NHDD!Justin is to the one he’s used to dealing with, and ends up getting a concentrated dose of All The Feels™ because the moment NHDD!Justin realized this Tony had a metric buttload of undiagnosed-and-constantly-belittled mental health issues and a support system that was equal parts duct tape and caffeine, he went “oh, so this universe is the Hell Timeline, okay, makes sense :) :) :) dammit Ivan you’d better fix this stat”.

In retrospect, Justin’s not sure when exactly the horror show started; if it was the absolute lack of concern or care the Avengers had for their Tony, or the minute they noticed the gauntness in his face. Maybe the tension between Iron Man and Captain America, or the obvious bravado this Tony used– and the fact that none of the others so much as noticed.

All Justin knows is, a version of someone they care about is hurting, hurting badly and has been for a long time now, and that’s more than enough for them to go “oh, okay, mine now”.

For his part, Tony has no idea what the hell’s going on. The non-annoying Justin Hammer who crash-landed an Avengers debrief is...something else, and he’s torn between shock, pleasant surprise, and no small amount of existential angst and jealousy because in the span of a few hours, Tony’s had a brief taste of what some other version of him had for a lifetime, and...

Tony’s not sure how he feels about it. He’s a genius, he can wrap his head around string theory and all that good stuff, but numbers are one thing, having to live with the fact that somewhere out there, a version of him grew up with someone so unfailingly kind and supportive and—Tony can’t think of a better word for it than nurturing— and, in the span of seconds, had been able to call him out on his bullshit and seemed to instinctively push him to be better but not in the demanding way his father or the rest of the world had—

If he thinks about it too long, it makes him want to cry, just a little. Somewhere out there was a Tony who’d been enough for someone, who had never been asked to change himself, who’d been pushed up instead of repeatedly torn down and he didn’t know how to deal.

He’d thought having a non-annoying Justin around would be funny.

This was not, it was goddamn distressing is what it was, because Tony hadn’t even known it was a possibility but now he is acutely aware of the fact that he got stuck with his Justin— the human embodiment of one of those yappy dogs who nipped at people’s heels thinking they were so tough, despite not being able to back it up.

This Justin was, uh, not that. Tony wasn’t sure if he was always like this, or if it was only with him because he shared a face with someone Justin cared about, but... was he always this much of a mom friend? And where’d that granola bar even come from, anyway? Not that he minded, it was a nice change of pace, but really?

...Tony was really going to miss him, once they figured out a way to send him back home.

To the commenter who said:

Stephanie isn’t a canon character, is she? Because if not, NHDD!Justin might be able to pull off a “the birth of my little sister awakened my previously deeply buried parental instincts” to explain his whole… [gestures uselessly].

Technically, she could be, in that Justin Hammer has a sister and nephew in canon [according to the wiki and a deleted scene, apparently]. I chose to make her a younger sibling in NHDD, to really emphasize the ‘reincarnated with shitty memory’ aspect of this AU. Specifically, while it’s never specified, Justin’s past life was...not great, and part of it was the fact that their younger sibling was sick.

With what, they don’t remember anymore, but sick enough that they know health isn’t something to take for granted; sick enough that towards the end, they remember their parents had to choose between paying hospital bills and electricity, remember going to bed hungry because meds were expensive and their next paycheck wasn’t until Friday.

...suffice it is to say, there’s a reason Justin’s so protective of those he cares about, even if his memories faded a bit on the specifics as time went by.

To be fair, canon!Justin also cares for his sister and nephew; it’s just that NHDD!Justin acted more like a third parent than a sibling, once Stephanie was born.

Bear in mind that canon!Justin’s situation is very different than NHDD!Justin’s, because canon!Justin was basically set up to fail from the start as a normal kid who was constantly compared to a child prodigy two years younger than him and terrible parents. While NHDD!Justin’s situation is similar on the surface, the difference is they’re literally a reincarnated OC, with all the baggage that entails.

Maybe, if their second life hadn’t been surrounded by adults with A+ Parenting Skills, 0/10 Do Not Recommend, their issues and traumas from last time wouldn’t have been exacerbated. If they’d been born to a regular family, Justin would’ve been a good kid but nothing special, and their memories of a past life would’ve faded away by the time they hit puberty.

But instead, they were born to the Hammer family, and proceeded to be put through the wringer.

Which is bad enough, and meant they immediately started leaning hard on everything from their past life because these people wouldn’t know good parenting if it bit them on the nose, but...then Justin’s little sister was born, which immediately kick-started every older sibling instinct they’d ever had because last time they’d been responsible for their younger sibling’s health and safety and you can probably see where this is going.

aka yes, some of Justin’s behaviors could arguably be called trauma responses and/or coping mechanisms and it’s something I only realized as I was writing this, and no, this AU was not supposed to be this messed up

Justin’s responsibility, their willingness to deal with shitty parents and do tremendous amounts of emotional labor if it helped anyone they took under their wing? That’s no accident, that’s what happens when a soul has to be the adult, has to step up because nobody else is going to. There’s a reason Justin has so much disdain for Hank Pym and Howard Stark’s immaturity, why they have so little patience for their parents as time goes on; their mental age means the older they get, the more they’re looking at the adults around them and judging them hard.

...ahem. Sorry for getting a bit off-topic, but hey, at least now you know a bit more about what’s going on inside Justin’s head!

And yeah, if he had to bs an explanation for why he’s such a mom friend, Justin’d be more than happy to point to his little sister as an excuse. So long as they know she exists, anyway; if not, he’ll just laugh it off and try to chalk it up to one of the differences between their universes.

edit to remove the stuff that got through my nonexistent brain-to-mouth filter because I was averaging a not-optimal amount of sleep as I got used to my new job

#No Hero [Downward Descending]#Naught replies #replies #thinking aloud

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mrsbenedictbridgerton · 4 years ago

Text

The truth about loving you

Polin Modern au

Part one

4.5k

*Here it is - finally -part one! I hope you enjoy! *

Loving Colin Bridgerton had been the joy and the heartache of her life. It was time for Penelope to move on. He was never going to notice her. He was never going to love her the way she loved him. Always travelling, always seeking something... Colin was back in the small town of Grosvenor. But something was different and he had a feeling, it was him.

Also on AO3

Prologue

Penelope Featherington was well aware that, generally, the idea of love at first sight was laughed at. In addition, the thought that a young woman who had just reached the age of sixteen should find the love of her life in such circumstances was preposterous to most people. Well, almost everyone, really.

But she had. Fallen in love that is. Deep, head over heels, irrevocably in love. With Colin Bridgerton, brother of her dearest friend Eloise. Tall, handsome, charming… kind. Yes, she knew within a few minutes of meeting him and of becoming mesmerised by his smiling eyes that he was kind. She knew that he loved his family to distraction, that he was decent, that he was caring and that he did not have one bad bone in his body. That whoever should be lucky enough to win his heart would be treasured and loved…

So, really, one could not blame her for the instant, fatal bolt of something that had left her painfully in love with a man who saw her, she shuddered to think, as almost another sister. And he already have plenty of those. Penelope, being somewhat shy (and certainly lacking in the kind of confidence that would have let her believe she had any chance of being seen in anything more than sororal terms) had hidden her infatuation behind smiles and blushing cheeks. She had told no one - not a single soul - and miraculously none had guessed. She daren’t divulge the deepest secret of her heart to anyone. It was her private treasure; every moment in his presence was a potent mixture of exquisite joy and painful torment. He was the sunshine of her life.

And he was completely, utterly oblivious. He had been both the greatest pleasure and tragedy of her life. For twelve. Whole. Years.

Until one day, as she approached the age of 29 and began to have those philosophical internal conversations that one often has when reaching a significant age, she had a revelation. No more, she told herself, no more…

Something had to change.

Part One

Twelve years, three months and two days of being in love with Colin Bridgerton

With a final few clicks, followed by a deep sigh, Penelope flicked the lid of her laptop closed and glanced at her watch. Six pm. That gave her exactly sixty minutes to prepare herself for the town Spring Gala - otherwise known as Lady Agatha Danbury’s annual party; held every April by the social leader of the small Oxfordshire town of Grosvenor, in which not a soul dared to miss either through fear of Lady Danbury’s interrogation at a later date or simply because it was the first post-Christmas social event, where the chill was finally fading from the air and the dark nights of December had been replaced by the tempting promise of the bright summer evenings to follow.

Penelope didn’t know if she had the energy to face the entire town, but go she would. Really, she should try and make the most of the evening. She would actually miss the predictability of life here. In Grosvenor, nothing of real substance ever changed. It was comforting, but it was a crutch. It was a life she had clung to to avoid making the hard decisions.

As she stood to leave her desk, her eyes fell upon a polaroid. It was a picture of Pen, her best friend Eloise and Eloise’s brother, Colin, taken at Christmas a few years ago, they all were wearing ridiculous jumpers and Colin was trying to stuff a whole mince pie in his mouth. A frown crossed her face. She grabbed the picture and tossed it into the first drawer of her desk, slamming it with a satisfying thud.

It’s time to grow up, Penelope, she told herself.

It was time for a change.

After locking her door, Pen stashed her keys in her pocket and… nearly jumped out of her skin. Perched on the small brick wall surrounding her cottage was Eloise Bridgerton, her oldest friend, lit cigarette dangling from one hand and black leather jacket slung over her shoulder.

“Jesus, El, you scare me!” Her friend smirked and took a long drag of her cigarette. “And you know if your mother catches you smoking she will kill you.”

Eloise scoffed. “I’m 28 years old Pen. I think I’m pretty far past the age when my mother rules my life.” Pen gave her a pointed look as she put out the cigarette on the stone wall before slipping it back in the packet. “Okay, so she could make my life a misery. As you well know I smoke precisely three times a year: the Danbury party, the Smythe-Smith musical evening and Simon and Daphne’s Christmas Fete.”

Pen knew her thoughts on forced social occasions, they were very similar to her own. Forced socialisation was akin to mental torture to the middle Bridgerton sibling because, like Pen, she had little time for the more vapid members of town society, and sadly, they made up a high percentage of those one would meet on such occasions. Which was why, as ever, she was once again thankful for friendship with Eloise. They were as much alike as they were different but there was something intangible between them that transcended the ordinary. On a higher level, they just fit. Many a time they’d postulate over large glasses of wine about becoming eccentric spinsters one day, with a dozen cats each and a cozy little house that overlooked the sea. It was a comforting thought for someone like Pen, who usually avoided thoughts of the future.

Slipping her arm through her friend’s, Penelope pulled Eloise to stand and began to walk in the direction of the Danbury’s large, sprawling house.“And then why do you attend tonight?” Penelope teased, knowing fair well what the answer was.

“Danbury would have my head on a platter - and then my mother would serve it for dinner. You know how those two are!”

Indeed, Penelope was well aware of the friendship between two of the town’s grande dames, both forceful in their own way and both determined matchmakers. “I wonder who they are trying to set up this year?”

“Don’t look at me,” El spat with an incredulous look, “Mother let that go a long time ago.” “Hyacinth maybe?”

“She’s far too busy with her graduate degree. She’s determined to get firsts across the board. She’s now onto her fourth language you know?” Pen did know El’s youngest sister had an uncanny knack with languages, it was unnerving really when noone else in her family spoke more than a smattering of bad French. She’d already also mastered Spanish and Mandarin - helped of course through the year she had spent travelling in China. Oh how Pen wanted to go to China… okay, perhaps not China, maybe she wasn’t that adventurous. But just anywhere other than here. “Pen?”

“Hmm?”

Eloise jabbed Pen softly with her elbow. “You like you are on another planet.”

“Just thinking,” she replied, not really being dishonest.

“Well I’m glad to see I am such scintillating company. I was actually trying to tell you I have news.”

Oh. News. Eloise had news? This was the moment Pen had been waiting for. She wanted El to know first, she hadn’t even told her mother yet...

Pausing, Penelope turned to face her friend and forced a smile. “Actually, I, too, have some news-”

Just then, a large pair of arms wrapped around Pen from behind, hugging tightly around her waist before lifting her and spinning her around.

Oh God. She’d know those arms anywhere. She’d know that cologne. She’d just know it was…

“Colin! Put me down!,” she screamed, wriggling from his grip, “I’m far too heavy!”

Feet landing back on the pavement, Penelope stumbled a second before spinning on her heel to face him.

“Nonsense, you are light as a feather Pen,” Colin replied, grinning as reached forward and pressed a loud kiss on her cheek - leaving the patch of skin his lips had touched tingling and a deep blush threatened to engulf her face. Thank god it was getting dark already.

“That was my news,” Eloise announced smugly, crossing her arms. “Brother three is back on British soil.”

Stunned was not quite the word to describe Penelope’s state of mind as she stared at Colin Bridgerton. Colin with his warm, wide smile and deep, dark eyes… eyes she had drowned in more times that she cared to count. His thick, brown hair had grown and now licked at the collar of his shirt. But otherwise, Colin had changed very little in the six months since she had last seen him - and indeed in the twelve years since they had met.

“Colin,” she began, still a little tongue tied from the brief kiss and, moreso, his entirely unexpected return, “But you were in Australia?”

“I decided to come home.”

“Clearly,” she mumbled, her head whirl. He always had that effect on her. His mere presence sent her stomach into knots and her head into a whirl and thinking clearly was almost impossible. “How wonderful,” she added.

She was dizzy. She felt a headache coming on. Actually, she felt just a little sick. Why was he back? Why? He was supposed to be gone for another five months. She should really have guessed that this might happen, Colin’s plans were always flexible and his adventures were subject to whatever whim or passion he was currently in the midst of. Still, it was unlike him to return from a trip early. It would have made more sense for him to spend those extra months exploring some other little corner of the world( and giving her the time she needed). Time for Penelope to make all the changes to her life that her carefully made plans had necessitated. Time for her to finally get over him. Severing her childish adoration for this man was the only way of moving forward with her life and just as she was about to make the great leap into the unknown… there he was. Same old Colin.

Damn, she was tired of loving him. Because the truth about loving Colin Bridgerton was that it was equal parts heaven and hell.

“Pen!” El shouted, breaking her reverie. “You phased out on me again.” Penelope gave a wan smile. “So what were you going to tell me before my idiot brother here interrupted us?”

“Oh,” she shrugged, “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Lady Danbury, of course, had planned her event to perfection. A string quartet greeted visitors in the large, marble lined vestibule of Danbury Hall and uniformed wait staff meandered around the milling guests carrying shining silver platters of champagne and fancy-looking canapes. As the trio arrived, friends of Colin’s surrounded the siblings and welcomed their friend home. Colin had always been extremely popular. Between his good nature, sense of humour and ability to make whomsoever he conversed with feel important and noticed, he has managed to forge friendships with almost every inhabitant of Grosvenor.

Seeing an exit, Penelope grabbed a flute of champagne from the first passing server and managed to sink down half of it in one swift gulp as she headed towards the large ornamental garden that was accessed from the house’s terrace. She needed a moment. She needed air. She needed to think.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be thousands of miles away.

She really had convinced herself that she was growing out of her feelings from him. It was quite ridiculous. It had been over TWELVE years. She’d mooned over him all through her teens and twenties, both cursing and thanking her friendship with Eloise for placing them in such close conspiracy. Being close to him and watching him over the years had only deepened her feelings whilst simultaneously feeding a torturous sense of insecurity. It was a curse. Any man she met was instantly compared with Colin. Was he as kind as Colin? Was he as generous as Colin? Did he make her laugh like Colin did? Did she dream of sinking her hands into his hair the way she did with Colin? Would he kiss like Colin... The list was endless.

Admittedly, the few fleeting relationships she had found herself in over the years had little longevity in them on their own merit. If a man showed an interest in her she was flattered - and flattery led her to trying to like them too. But no matter how much she tried, it was impossible to force attraction, or even friendship, and spending an evening with any of them was a close second to a glass of wine and a good book. So almost permanently single, she’d hidden her feelings under the guise of a bright demeanor and focused herself on building a career and becoming more than a woman driven by her emotions. Well, she had tried.

Tried and failed miserably as proven by her visceral reaction to his presence that evening. Who was she kidding? The only way to finally free herself from this madness was to take herself out of the equation. Physically.

With a sigh, she downed the rest of her glass and left it on a little decorative iron table that edged the patio. There was little use in ruining the evening by letting herself sink into a mood. Tonight he was here and there was little she could do about it.

Colin was home. Jetlagged, overtired and not-quite sure exactly what the time was, but he was back in Grosvenor with his luggage already deposited in his childhood room at Aubrey Hall. As expected, nothing of any note had changed in Grosvenor in the half a year he had spent travelling across Australia. It never did actually. Not during his tour of Europe, his kayak trip down the Amazon nor those six months spent trekking in India. There was something comforting about that. Home was always home. With very little change to have to acquaint oneself with when returning after a prolonged absence.

Except… Well… She looked different. Penelope did. No, that wasn’t right. Penelope was the same as always. Pen was always there when he came back: she was dependable, as much a part of home as his mother’s Sunday lunches or the broken clock at the town hall - and inevitably joined at the hip with his sister Eloise. But something was different this time.

When he’d seen her across the street, he’d stalked up to her as he often liked to, picking her up and spinning her around - it was an old trick that had started so long ago he’d forgotten exactly how or why. Yet this time he didn’t just feel the sense of enjoyment in making his friend laugh, as he picked her up he had immediately noticed the curve of her hips and the brush of her breasts against his arm. Startled, he had let go, only for her to turn to him with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes and- well -it was different. He’d always known Penelope was a woman, but tonight for some reason, he knew.

While he had been awake for over 30 hours (thanks to a delightful assortment of caffeinated beverages), he could not blame the tightening in his gut and the moment of breathlessness he felt in that brief moment on sheer exhaustion. In fact, he’d felt a rush of adrenaline and a kick of excitement, as if he had just discovered something new. Something that no one else knew. It was… unsettling. But not exactly in a negative way.

Puzzled and curious, Colin made light work of greeting those old friends who didn’t yet know he had returned and then left Eloise to be grilled by their sister Daphne and her husband Simon about just when she planned on moving out of Aubrey Hall. He slipped away quietly. The simple solution to his confusion was to go and talk with Penelope as he normally would. Surely that would settle whatever had affected him so much. He needed to have a nice, normal conversation with her. It was understandable, he supposed, for friendships to be a little strange after such a time. It hadn’t happened before between them, but still...

It was in the garden that he found her. The evening was still light, the sun turning a hazy orange behind the springtime clouds. He’d left Australia as the summer was turning to autumn and here he was about to experience summer yet again. The idea made him smile. Summer was always his favourite time of year. It seemed filled with so much promise - the days were long, the weather fine and even the gloomiest of souls could not retain their negativity when faced with an English summer’s day.

“Pen,” he said as he approached where she stood at the edge of the ornamental gardens. In one hand, she had a full flute of champagne and in the other an impossibly sized canape. She seemed to be studying the canape and deciding how best to approach it’s consumption - not easy when it took the form of an oversized base of puffed pastry topped with a heavy dollop of cream cheese and an artful sprinkling of caviar (Colin had always appreciated good food). Her eyes met his and she smiled, perhaps a little self consciously.

“Colin, I thought you were enjoying a hero’s welcome.”

He smirked a little, “I should hardly think my travels are an accomplishment. Indeed, mother sees them as somewhat the opposite.” His mother was actually very supportive of her son’s desire to see more of the world, but she had mentioned many times how perhaps spending every penny he earned on the endeavour was not the best forward planning. A large part of him knew she was right. The transient lifestyle he had lived for so long was starting to wear on him if truth were told. Not that the urge to discover new places would ever leave him, but perhaps the way it manifested in his life needed to change. More to think on later, he supposed. “Anyway, I’m reliably informed that my mother is planning a welcome home and belated birthday party very soon. My loyal fans can fawn over me then,” he teased

“Oh,” Penelope gasped, “Your birthday was last month - I didn’t exactly forget I just - well, with all the travelling I didn’t even know where to send you a card. Here,” she said pushing the canape in his direction, “A present. I’m sure you are starving.”

“Oh no no no,” he chuckled, pushing her hand back. “I could not possibly deny you the pleasure of… that.”

Penelope frowned as she glanced at the oversized canape. Really, Colin was being a little cruel. Even he, who had never been accused of being small of mouth, would struggle to eat that with some semblance of dignity. But Penelope’s pouting pink lips were perfectly proportioned for her petite heart shaped face, forming a flawless pout as she considered the clearly impossible challenge. Colin, for his part, was seriously contemplating the lush fullness of her bottom lip until Penelope let out a deep sigh, opening her mouth wide and pushing the entirety of it inside. Colin sucked in a quick breath. As she chewed a drizzle of cream spread across her lip and he watched, hypnotised, as her tongue slipped out and cleared it away. There was something startlingly erotic in the moment and he found himself transfixed. Their eyes met as her jaw worked, the silence between them somehow startlingly loud, even as the sound of the party increased behind them in the house. Not breaking the eye contact, Penelope took a long sip of her champagne. “Done,’ she murmured softly.

The edges of his lips curled as he reached forward and brushed a crumb of pastry from her petal soft cheek. “Was it enjoyable?” he asked quietly.

Wordlessly, she nodded.

And, hell, he had enjoyed it too.

‘Well then, I’d say I’m rather jealous.” He was overcome with a sudden urge to kiss her. He wanted to step closer to her, wrap his hands around the devastating curve of her hips, press his body to hers so those lush breastswere flush against his chest and then he would taste those maddeningly erotic lips. The idea pulsed through him. She was staring. Her blue eyes widening. He reached for the glass in her hands, intending to set it down-

Buzzz. Buzzz. Buzzz.

The moment was broken by the vibrations of a mobile phone. It took Pen a few seconds to acknowledge it was hers, a confused look crossing her face until she fished the device from her jeans pocket.

“Pen? PEN? Where are you?” Eloise’s voice bellowed down the line.

“Eloise,” she mouthed to him, though he had no trouble hearing his sister, who was never known for her subtilty. “You need to get here. Daphne is PREGNANT!”

“Oh,” Pen smiled, looking back at him. “I think we should head back to the others.”

Wordlessly he nodded. His sister - for whom motherhood had always been so important - announcing her first pregnancy, was certainly something he wanted to be there for. “C’mon,” he whispered, holding out his arm, “Time to play proud big brother.”

Further exploration of his newfound fascination with Penelope Featherington’s lips would have to wait.

Hours later...

The world was silent when they reached her cottage. An intrepid white cat darted across the street as a gust of wind rustled the branches of the small oak tree that dominated the garden of Penelope’s cottage. Despite the light chill to the air, she was wearing a warm coat of alcohol, her cheeks glowing as they always did when she had drunk champagne. Pleasantly tipsy, she leaned into Colin, his warmth comforting against her side as she fumbled in her pocket for her key.

“Thank you,” she said quietly as she opened the half gate that breached the stone wall around her home “But you really didn’t have to walk me all the way home. I’m a big girl, you know.” There was a double meaning to her words; yes she wasn’t exactly young, but she also wasn’t exactly small in size - the phrase ‘curves in abundance’ could have been written just for her, she had thought on more than one occasion.

“It was my pleasure,” Colin replied, “It was a fine excuse to leave before the revels became too tiring- you know these things can go on until morning and I already feel like I could sleep for a year.” With that, he yawned and ran a hand through his hair. Pen watched those lightly tanned fingers come through the dark chestnut locks and swallowed down a sigh.

“Well,” she nodded, “I’d say that it’s time to say goodnight.” For a second, she fidgeted, her keys jangling on her finger. Impulsively, she reached out her hand and immediately felt ridiculously awkward. She and Colin did not shake hands. She didn’t shake hands with anyone. Ever. She cleared her throat and felt her cheeks deepen in colour. Oh god. After their strange moment in the garden, things had felt almost normal between them as they congratulated Daphne and Simon and then passed the rest of the evening hearing stories from Colin’s travels and bringing him up to date with the (somewhat limited) local gossip he had missed. And so when he had insisted on walking her home, she hadn’t been overly wary. Yet now… now they were alone on her quiet street and he was staring at her so oddly that she was actually finding it difficult to breathe-

“Good night,” he said softly, reaching down to bring her into a hug. It was a beautiful, warm embrace, her face almost nestling against his neck so that she could enjoy his musky, soft cologne. This was nice. This was safe. Friends hugged.

She made to pull away, but he only loosened his grip a small amount. Looking up he was so very close. His dark, velvet eyes fixed upon hers. “Pen…” he whispered, a look of concentration upon his face. She tried to wriggle gently free of his arms, his close inspection feeling uncomfortable and somehow searing.

And then he kissed her. Just like that.

His lips were against hers, his hands slipped up her back, his mouth suddenly urgent and wonderful and if Penelope could have imagined his kiss a thousand times she could not have imagined this. He pressed her back against the door, his tongue sweeping into her mouth with a satisfied groan. Her hands, which had been limp around his neck, surged into his thick locks, the satin strands feeling obscenely good between her fingers. He pushed his hips forward, anchoring her in place, his mouth tracing her jaw and then her neck, one hand racing down to cup her buttocks and squeeze just hard enough to make her gasp in surprise.

Colin Bridgerton was kissing her.

Colin was kissing her.

Colin.

Suddenly, she froze, pushing against his shoulders. “Are you drunk?” she panted.

“No,” he frowned, “Are you?”

“No,” she admitted, shaking her head. And, oh she was thankful that she would remember every moment of this...

Without her noticing, Colin had taken the key and opened the door behind her. Quickly, they fell inside. Their arms instantly back around each other and the kiss resumed and it was intoxicating. It was magnetic. It was drugging… Penelope had never been kissed like this before.

Colin was nibbling at her neck and pulling her shirt out from her jeans. She dug her fingers into the firm muscles of his shoulders and felt herself being swept away.

“Wait-”

He paused and looked up.

Penelope took a step backwards. This had to stop. It was madness. “I-I can’t do this right now. I-”

His face creased in confusion. “Pen?”

She began pushing her shirt back into her jeans. “I need to think. I need to sleep. I-” She sighed and pursed her lips. She couldn’t believe what was happening. She couldn’t believe what she was doing.

He responded with a small nod and a whispered, “Okay.” He reached back and placed his hand on the doorknob, before adding, “Later?’

And Penelope tried to smile.

Colin left, the door closing softly, followed by the clip of footsteps and the creak of her gate. Quickly, she locked the door and then stared at it.

And then Penelope Featherington started to cry.

Oh god, what the hell just happened?

To Be Continued...

#bridgerton #bridgerton ff #bridgerton fanfiction #Colin Bridgerton #Penelope Featherington #penelope x colin

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unmaskedagain · 5 years ago

Text

Marinette Vs Santa

A quick Christmas drabble.

How did Marinette find out she was adopted? Well… her little half-brother tried to kill her.

Also, that’s how she found out her biological dad was Batman. Because… why not. As if her life wasn’t weird enough already.

And to think Marinette had been secretly writing Santa every year since she was three to like nine asking for a sibling of her own. She didn’t think it would ever happen

Then one day, on a cold December night, as Ladybug ran across rooftops to see as many of the Christmas decorations as possible. Suddenly every instinct she had told her to duck. And she did just narrowly avoided a sword to the throat.

Marinette readied herself to fight an Akuma, only to see an angry ten-year-old with a sword and a mask. He was dressed in green, red, and gold.

“Die, usurper!” He roared and attacked her again.

Ladybug dodged and jumped every attempt to kill her and tried to resist the urge to punch a child.

Eventually she got the better of the kid, and ended up hog tying him.

Marinette put her hands on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath, “Who. Are. You. Nightmare. Child?” She asked in between breaths. Ladybug picked up the fallen sword and pointed at him. “And what is your problem? What did I even do to you?”

“You are Marinette Dupain-Cheng, first born blood child of our father.” He hissed at her, “I am our father’s rightful heir; not you.”

Our father? Did her dad have a lovechild? Did he cheat on her mom? No, Tom Dupain would never.

“What?” Marinette pinched her nose. “You want to be head baker?”

“Fool!” He tsk’d at her. “I’ve no interest in your adoptive parents’ holdings. I will follow Father’s footsteps and rule the night. I will be Batman. Not you, sister. Kneel before me and renounce your heirship, and I will spare your life.”

…Wait Adoptive? Batman? Sister?

Marinette just stared at him. Not saying a word. For a while. Awhile he insulted her.

She looked out at the colorful lights that glowed against the freshly fallen snow and sense of peace that filled the air, and Marinette whispered the only thing on her mind…

“Fuck Santa.”

The boy stopped struggled and gave her a perplexed look, “What? What does the jolly fat man have to do with anything? Why has he made you angry, sister? I will avenge you.”

You just tried to kill me, she wanted to say.

Marinette just rolled her eyes, “Never mind. We need to talk.” She picked him and tossed him over her shoulder. “In my room.”

Running across Paris with a struggling kid on your shoulder and a sword in your hand wasn’t easy.

When she got to her room, she dropped the kid on her bed as gently as possible. “Do not escape,” She ordered. “If you do, do not destroy my room. I’m going to ask my parents if…” If they’re really her parents. Why didn’t they tell her? Why? Just Why? “What you say is true. I won’t mention Batman.”

Or the psychotic ten-year-old she had tied up in her room. Who may or may not be her brother.

Marinette de-transformed. Tikki hid in her hair before anyone could see her.

She came back to her room half an hour later with a cheese plate, full of veggies, fruits and crackers. And a tray full of chocolate chip Christmas cookies and two glasses of milk. She sat them down at the desk.

The boy glared at her.

“You were right,” Marinette sighed. “I was adopted. My birth mom was just nineteen when she had me. The sister of one of my mom’s friends.”

The news had been a blow. Her parents had kept repeating how much they loved her and how they had been planning on telling her when she was older. Older than fourteen. They wanted to know how she found out. She said her little brother had gotten in contact with her.

Marinette eyed the still tied up boy… her brother. He no longer struggled against his bonds, just stared with an angry expression on his face. “I don’t want to be Batman,” She told him. “The title is all yours. I like being Ladybug. It’s a name I earned, worked hard for. A name I’m proud of and will not part with easily. Is that something you can understand?”

He stared at her for a moment before nodding slowly, “You created your own hero persona to find the terror entrapping your city; all by yourself. …Father did the same.”

He said the last part with a sad tone that Marinette’s new found big sisterly instincts go haywire. “And you think just because you’re his… partner,” She said, instead of sidekick because she was sure that word would get her killed. “And not a solo hero, that he will find you unworthy of being his heir.” Marinette sat down next to him, and patted his hair softly. “Did you ever think that because he is the one who’s training you, that because you fight by his side, that he’d trust you more? Trust you to take up his mantle in the way he can’t trust me. He doesn’t know what I’m capable of entirely. But he knows exactly what you can do because he taught you.”

Her brother scoffed but his face lost some of its anger and he seemed to relax.

“I’m going to untie you now,” She told him. “Do not attack me.”

When he was untied and given back his sword, which he sheathed, Marinette brought over the food. “You know my name,” She said after he took a bite a cookie and seemed pleased with it. “What’s yours?”

“Damian,” He answered. “Damian Al-Ghul Wayne. How did you obtained magical powers? And what is the creature that thought it could hide from me?”

Marinette just blink. Because Dammit Tikki. The pink ball of fluff out with a chastised look on her face. Unfortunately that look meant nothing as all the other Kwami Marinette now protected as Guardian thought that meant they could come out to.

Plagg straight to Damian and sat on his lap, “Cheese. Now.”

Marinette face-palmed. The Kwami had taken trying to declare dominance ever since Ladybug took the ring back from Chat Noir.

Damian could only stare at the being, animal, and sprite as he reached slowly for a piece of cheese from the selection of food and handed it the small creature. That was all the other Kwami needed to rush to him for attention. Damian was easily mesmerized by the little creatures and saw no issue in showing them affection. Apart from the fact that Oracle, and Father, and thus the rest of the family were watching the feed, through the mask, while they attempt to locate him. Damian could only disable their trackers for so long. Annoying as she was, Oracle was a genius.

“Okay, little brother,” Marinette shrugged. “You tell me your story. I’ll tell you mine.”

And so they did. The two siblings spent the next few hours telling the other all about their history. Neither were happy.

Marinette was beyond furious that her little brother was raised by ruthless assassins, cast into the role of Robin (though mostly by his own doing), constantly risked his life, and had little no childhood.

Damian was pissed, which was putting it nicely. His beloved sister had no training when she was charged with the task of defending the city as the hero Ladybug and fight a supernatural terrorist, dealt with sexual harassment from her once trusted partner, then her master died in battle but not before he bestowed one of the most powerful magical artifacts of all time to a teenager. To top it all off, his sweet sister was being bullied by a pathological liar who turned all her friends against her, nearly got her expelled, leaving her with little to no Allies to aid her in her fight against evil. Marinette had cried at the end of her tale.

…He was going burn Paris to the ground.

Little did he know, the Batfamily found it hard not to agree as they watched the livestream from the Batplane?

Dick had gone from jumping up and down at the sight of his adorable new sister, Marinette. She was a hero called Ladybug, how cute was that? To being rather angry at what she had to put up with. It was too much pressure for a kid, superhero, superpowers, or not.

“What do we do?” Tim asked.

Batman was still having trouble processing. He had another daughter; a beautiful little girl who seemed to have taken after him without ever having known the man. Nature versus Nurture, he supposed; nature won. Marinette who had been fighting to save her city like he fought to save his. Who was her mother? Why didn’t she tell Bruce he had another child? Granted Brucie wasn’t who most people thought would be an ideal father but still… Hadn’t he proved himself?

“Find Hawkmoth,” Jason growled. “Punch a hole through his face. And Send Steph and Cass to have a “Talk”, he air quoted. “With that Lila chick. While we have a little talk of our own with Chat Noir. End of story.”

Cass nodded, gleefully, that little girl would pay for what she did to Cassandra’s sister. And if she was lucky, Lila would even live to tell the tale.

Stephanie was wondering if the Batfamily, her sort of-adopted family, could really get away with murder.

…Who was she kidding? They totally could.

“We don’t… kill?” Batman said as he turned around and stalked away. “I’ll inform Alfred of the development.” Maybe have him prepare a room, he thought with hope. He’d like his daughter to visit and feel at home whenever she could.

When Batman left the area, Tim looked around at his siblings, “Did that sound like a question to anyone else?”

Marinette and Damian fell asleep next to each other, with the Kwami cuddled close. The next morning she woke not only to sound to the sound of the Kwami but to the sight of five additional vigilantes heroes, in addition to the one from the night before, hovering around her room.

Two girls who were discussing with Trixx and long about their abilities. A hero in mostly black and red, who sat on Marinette’s top bunk with Marinette’s laptop on his lap, and Pollen on his shoulder. Damian still had Plagg with him, which Marinette wanted to tsk at because she told him not to play favorites. A blue, clearly the oldest, was laying on the floor playing with the remaining Kwami like they were puppies.

She sat up in her bed and tried to wipe the sleep from her eyes. She glared at Damian, “Want to explain?”

“Mornin, sunshine,” A guy in a redmask said, with Barkk on his shoulder, as he chopped on a leftover cookie, not noticing the way Tikki glared at him. “Name’s Red Hood. Real name Jason. Dad’s downstairs talking to your parents.”

Dad?

She glared even harder at Damian. He shrugged, “Marinette, these are our… brothers and sisters.” He said. “They were adopted.”

“You should get better security on your computer,” The hero on her bed said. “Name’s Tim. I go by Red Robin.”

“Cassandra,” One the girl introduced. “Blackbat.”

“Stephanie. Batgirl,” The other said.

“I’m Dick!” The one on the floor laughed. “Nightwing. Welcome to the family.”

Tim continued, “I’ve located all personal information on Lila Rossi. I believe we can now move forward with the plan.”

Jason clapped his hands together, “Awesome. Operation: Get That Bitch is a go.”

Marinette just started at them. Six. She had six siblings. One for every year ever asked for a sibling for Christmas. She just had one thing to say as she tossed the covers back over her head to hide from the world…

“Fuck. Santa.”

Finding out Bruce Wayne, cough Batman cough, was her father was one thing. Meeting him in person was another. He stared at her with cool blue eyes that made Marinette realize she probably should’ve questioned where she got her own long before.

Her parents had been surprised when Bruce Wayne walked into their bakery and asked to speak with them alone. Even more so, when he claimed to be the biological father of their daughter. It had been long conversation between the three. But Bruce made it clear that he had interest of just taking Marinette from them. However, he would like visitations and for her to spend time with him over the summers. And to take her out for the day so she could meet her siblings. Also, about adding Wayne to her last name.

So that was how Marinette found herself sitting in one of the most expensive restaurants in all of Paris, in the best dress she ever designed herself, with her… family.

The initial awkwardness was broken up by all her siblings. Though they seemed to know to how to behave in public, they had no problems messing with each other and teasing.

“How long have you been into fashion, Marinette?” Bruce, her Papa, (As her dad would always be her dad).

She smiled, “Since I was really little. It’s my dream to have my own line.”

Bruce’s eyes got bright at the chance to help his daughter, “I can help you with that. I can drum up a connect or two, to get you started.”

“He’ll throw money at it until someone cracks,” Jason translated which cause Marinette to laugh and Bruce to glare.

Marinette discovered Damian had snuck Plagg with him to the restaurant.

Marinette just groaned.

“You brought Tikki!” Damian defended.

“I’m the holder of her Miraculous,” She hissed back as low as she could. “Paris’s main and sometimes only hero. I need her.”

Damian huffed, “That’s no reason he shouldn’t be allowed to attend as well. He’s with me.”

Before Marinette could continue the arugment…

“Wayne?” Gabriel Agreste asked, tailed by Natalie, Adrien, Chloe, and Chloe’s parents: Audrey Bourgeois and André Bourgeois. “Bruce Wayne?”

Bruce put on his most charming smile as he stood up, “Yes and you are?” He put out his hand.

Gabriel shook it, clearly wondering why the billionaire was there. “Gabriel Agreste.”

Bruce nodded, “The fashion designer.”

“This is my son Adrien,” Gabriel introduced. “My assistant Nathalie. My longtime friend Audrey Bourgeois, of the Style Queen, and André Bourgeois, mayor of Paris, and their lovely daughter. We’re here for a quick lunch.”

“Same,,” Bruce nodded. “I’m here with my children. My eldest Dick, followed by Jason, Cassandra, Stephanie, Tim, Marinette and my youngest Damian.” He introduced them.

At the sound her name, all the newcomers eyes went to Marinette. She gave them a small wave, “Good to see you again.”

“Dupain-Cheng!” Chloe gasped.

Damian growled, “Dupain-Cheng-Wayne.” As he glared passed her at the blond boy, the former Chat Noir.

The blond girl was stunned, “How could you not tell me?”

Hadn’t the two moved passed their difference and become friends? The two girls, and Kagami and united together when the liar seemed to take hold of the rest of the class.

“No one knew,” Marinette defended. I didn’t even know, she wanted to add. But they had discussed and agreed on the story that Bruce and an unknown woman gave up Marinette to the Dupain-Chengs when she was born. Nothing scandalous about it.

Gabriel paused as he tried to think of what to say. How did he not know there was Wayne living in Paris, that his son was classmates with a Wayne. The girl had power in her pinky when she was still in Nappies, then either of the older Bourgeois had currently in their entire bodies. She would’ve been a much better playmate for his son than Chloe; the vapid, girl that she was.

Audrey was thinking nearly the same thing. “Such a brilliant daughter you have, Brucie,” She smoozed. “I still can’t believe she turned down the internship I offered her. I want her to come to New York with me, you know?”

Bruce beamed, “I’m glad someone sees her brilliance.”

This went on for a while as each of the parents tried their hands at flattering the billionaire. Bruce finally had enough and all but dismissed them

“I’m glad our children our such good friends,” Gabriel said finally as he turned to leave.

Marinette fought he urge to scoff. Adrien was not her friend.

The boy in question looked anywhere but at Marinette as he left. He had chosen to side with the other students when the Ice’d out Marinette until the girl stopped being a bully and being mean to Lila. Even if he knew it wasn’t true. Most declared they weren’t her friends anymore. Alya said she’d never be friends with Marinette again.

Coward, Damian nearly hissed. When they were gone, he turned to Marinette, “The blond girl is your alley, correct?” He asked. “Your Queen?”

Marinette nodded, “There’s Luka and Kagami as well.”

“I will test to ensure they are worthy to fight at her side,” He declared.

The others nodded. Bruce got a dark look on his face, “We all will.” He would not allow his daughter to suffer another Chat Noir.

That was it, Marinette thought as she threw down the sliver napkin, she was starting to hate Christmas.

The end of the weekend the entire world knew that Marinette was Bruce Wayne’s daughter. This made going to school Monday morning a huge spectacle as paparazzi crowded the outside the bakery and outside the school. Each one trying to get the attention of Wayne’s crown jewel, new Princess of Gotham, as the media dubbed her.

Suffice to say, Bruce had taken her to school that day flagged by Dick and Tim as her other siblings combed the city for traces of Hawkmoth.

The principle had practically fallen over himself to speak with the Bruce Wayne. But quickly hid in the shadows, when the first thing Bruce said to him was, “Ah, yes, you’re the man who expelled my daughter without a proper investigation. I’ll be talking to you later. So will my lawyers.”

Marinette tried to hide her blushing face her father walked her to class. Students did everything they could to get a look at her. Chloe and Kagami waited outside her classroom, that was practically bursting with noise.

However She practically drop dead when Tim complimented Kagami’s sword fighting skill and offered to duel her, and Kagami blushed. Blushed. Kagami?

Marinette shook her head as she kissed her father and brothers goodbye. This world just didn’t make sense anymore.

The two other girls flanked Marinette’s side as they walked into class. All noise stopped instantly. Marinette didn’t even bother spare the other kids a glance as the three took a seat in back of the class.

Chloe quickly pulled her into a conversation of the places she’d see that summer in New York.

“I’ll be spending the end of Christmas break in Gotham too,” Marinette said shyly. “I’ll open my presents there. Papa wants me there for the Wayne Ball was I can be properly introduced to society.”

And not because Bruce Wayne was scared of what Alfred would do if he didn’t get to mean his new granddaughter before the new year. That and Martha Kent were the ultimate overprotective grandparents.

“A Ball?” Lila squeaked, poorly concealed jealously on her face. She still couldn’t believe the little twit was Wayne. IF she had, Lila would’ve been a hell of a lot nicer. No wonder Marientte always knew when Lila was lying. She probably knew the celebrities through her father. “You’re going to the Waynes’ Annual New Year’s Ball.”

“Everyone goes,” Rose awe’d. “It’s basically a red carpet event. I watch every year. And Selena Gomez had the most beautiful dress on last time.”

Juleka hummed in agreement, “Clara Nightingale looked like a princess.”

Marinette just shrugged as each of her classmates offered their input on what the Ball would be like. She wasn’t about to make nice with them. They had turned their backs on her, betrayed her trust. Her brothers and sisters had warned her to be watchful for phony friends.

Alya, who’s face had been turning steadily more red, as the classmates speculated who Marinette would meet. “Girl!” She burst. “How could not tell me?”

Marinette raised a thin eyebrow, “We’re not friends, Alya, by your own declaration. I don’t believe I have to tell you anything. And even when we were friends, I only knew you for two years. Why would I tell a journalist anything important about me?”

“She was right not to,” Kagami stated, “With how quickly you all turned on her, I’m surprised she ever told you anything at all.”

Alya flinched back as if slapped. So did a few other students.

“It’s not fair,” Alya continued as if nothing happened. “I could’ve gotten so many interviews. OH! I could with you to the Ball. It’ll be bomb.”

The three girls in the backrow just stared at her.

“We. Are. Not. Friends,” Marinette repeated slowly. “Kagami and Chloe, and their families are invited because Kagami. And. Chloe. Are. My. Friends. In fact, my only friends in class. Luka is invited as well as well as his family,” She turned to Juleka who turned bright red. “Luka will receive invite tonight. If you attend with him, I will do my best to be polite. My father allowed me to invite them so I would have additional company if it gets too busy. The Ball is invitation only.”

Allowed? He insisted. Marinette doesn’t even know how he found out all their names and who their families were. For reason, Marinette had the gut instinct to blame a redhead and Tim. Batman wanted to test his daughter’s team. And if they were lacking… Well, he’d promised to shape them up. Or else.

“I’m going to the Wayne Ball!” Chloe shouted. “And you didn’t tell me. It’s mere weeks away. I need a dress. I need to tell Mother.”

Kagami had frozen. She knew well that the Wayne Ball wasn’t just any high society event. It was the High society event. Her family had never been elite and rich enough to receive an invitation. “I thank you for the invitation,” She bowed her head. “It will be a pleasure to attend.” She paused as she pulled out her phone and stood up. “I must also tell Mother.” And with, she quickly left the room.

Which was much more polite than Chloe who called her mom then and there.

“Mama!” Chloe sang, “Marinette invited us to the Wayne Ball this year!”

“WHAT!” Was heard from the receiver.

Marinette giggled. She ignored the glare Alya sent her.

Rose grasped Juleka’s arm and jumped up and down. “You’re going to the ball. Ahhhh!” She screamed. “What will you wear? Your hair? You have to take pictures.” Rose suddenly reared back and took a deep breath. “You’re going to walk the red carpet.”

“You know, Marinette,” Lila smiled sweetly. “I would be honored to help you navigate the world of a celebrity. The ball will be so stressful. If you needed me there, I’d be happy to attend.”

“No, thank you,” Marinette said. “My siblings have promised to guide me through. It will be a bonding experience.”

Lila forced a smile on her face, “Of course.” She fought the desire to scream and throw a tantrum. How could this happen?

Adrien on the other hand fought to keep the smile on his face. His father would not be pleased. He had instructed Adrien to get close to Marinette, and thus the Wayne family. Adrien hadn’t had the courage to tell his father that they weren’t friends anymore. And that because of the lack of friendship, the Agreste were not invited to the party of the year.

Marinette went to bed that day with a smile on her face. The Christmas season may have started off rocky but it would get better.

Suddenly her phone started buzzing like it was on fire.

The first text she read was from Chloe: You’re dating Roy Queen?!!!!

Marinette’s entirely body froze. Who?

Suddenly, she got another text… From Jason: Hey Baby Bats, I need a favor! Can you fake date my friend Roy. I already told everyone you guys were a thing. Bruce is freaking out! Thanks! Love you.

Her mouth dropped, raged filled her entire body. And then she remembered how she joked with Alya that she wanted a boyfriend last year for Christmas last year.

“FUCK SANTA!”

#ml salt #batfamily #Marinette deserves better #Marienette Dupain Cheng #bruce #bruce wayne #damian wayne #alya salt

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the-girl-in-the-box · 4 years ago

Text

Not Today IV

A/N: Funnily enough, I was really struggling with what to write in this chapter. Then, it hit me, and... it got long enough I decided to make it into two separate chapters. Finally getting some more plot building here, and this little feast arc will be wrapped up next week! Until then, I hope you enjoy! Skål!

Summary: When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

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True to his word, Alfred had a feast called to be hosted for Aethelind’s guests, and they were rather stunned to hear about the feast being held in their honor. They also were sure this was Aethelind’s work, a show of good faith and good things to come. And Ubbe certainly had no plans of turning down free food.

Sounds of celebration poured out of the feasting hall, and Aethelind grinned widely as she sat, quietly talking with Torvi. The feast was in full swing by now, Vikings socializing with Saxons, something that brought peace to the Princess’s soul as she watched the crowd. Her eyes had focused on Lagertha, speaking in an almost conspiratorial way to the Bishop Heahmund. She smirked slightly, and then returned her attention to the woman at her side.

“And… you are one of these shieldmaidens, yes?” she was asking the older blonde, and Torvi smiled and nodded.

“I am,” she confirmed. “Though, I wasn’t always.” When Aethelind turned a curious gaze to her, she decided to elaborate. “My second husband tried to make me kill Björn.” The Princess’s eyes widened drastically at that, and Torvi chuckled. “I didn’t, obviously. Instead, I killed my husband. That led to me joining the raid on Paris, and… Lagertha trained me from there.”

“You killed your husband?” Aethelind questioned, as if that were the only thing that had caught her attention.

“My second husband,” Torvi confirmed. “Erlendur. He was the son of King Horik, who-”

"Who once helped King Ragnar raid Wessex,” Aethelind finished, and chuckled. “I had no idea you were no stranger to being married to royalty, before Ubbe.”

Torvi laughed softly at what Aethelind said, and said, “Oh, I have always been married to royalty. First, Jarl Borg, then Erlendur, Björn, and now Ubbe.”

Aethelind gaped in a way she knew her mother would have scolded her for, and asked, “Four husbands? Torvi!” This led the Viking woman to giggle, and she put her hand on Aethelind’s hand familiarly.

“Two of them died,” she defended. “Björn is the only one that… we simply did not work.”

“‘Two of them died’,” Aethelind repeated playfully. “I was under the impression you just confessed to the murder of one?”

Torvi nodded, still laughing, and answered, “Yes, but that does mean he died.”

Aethelind gave a small shake of her head, and kept giggling at what Torvi had said. “You are too much,” she teased. As the two began to regain theirselves, Aethelind asked her, “Now, what exactly is a Jarl? Is that… sort of similar to a Lord?”

“Essentially,” Torvi answered her. She began to explain the hierarchy of the Viking royalty, and as she did so, Ubbe found himself chuckling and watching the pair.

Alfred looked up from his meal as he heard this, and tilted his head slightly. “What is it?” he questioned. No one had said anything to Ubbe, so he wasn’t quite sure what the Viking was laughing at.

“Your sister and my wife,” he answered Alfred. “It seems they are getting along very well. I cannot be sure what they are talking about, but they keep laughing together.”

Alfred’s eyes turned from his plate to his sister and Torvi, who were now laughing once again, and he made a slightly considering face. “I suppose I cannot be… too surprised by this. I have always found her to be more similar to our biological father than I am.”

“Your biological father?” Ubbe asked, looking to Alfred.

“Yes, the priest, Athelstan.”

Ubbe’s eyes lit up with recognition at the name, his brows lifting slightly. “Athelstan?” he said, looking back to Aethelind again. “I didn’t know you were his children. I knew him in my youth.” A small chuckle, and he added, “I led the search for the man who killed him, on my father’s orders.”

Now it was Alfred’s turn to look slightly stunned, and he even blinked a few times as he processed this. “You- you were not very young when he died then, were you?” he asked.

“No,” Ubbe confirmed. “No more than… eight winters could have passed, since my birth. But when Floki ran, it would have been about ten.”

“My grandfather sent me to Rome at three years old,” Alfred commented. “It looks as if we were both doing things we might have been… more prepared for at an older age, during our youth.”

“Apparently so,” Ubbe agreed. “Though, I would be lying if I said I was unprepared for such a task at that age. Viking children are prepared for much more than it seems your children are.”

Alfred sighed and shook his head a little. “I wish I could argue that, but I was being taught things in books at ten years old, while you were leading searches for an escaped criminal at that age.” He looked to Aethelind, and smiled a little. “My sister might have been happier to grow up in your world, I think.”

“How so?” Ubbe asked curiously. His eyes turned to Aethelind, who had moved from Torvi to speak to his brother, Björn. He seemed to be quite amused with her, leaning against the wall and watching her animated expressions. Ubbe smirked a little.

“Look at her and your brother,” Alfred pointed out. “Doesn’t she already seem happier, with you all here?”

Ubbe shrugged, even though the thoughts of what had been said of her and Ivar circulated through his mind. “I wouldn’t know.”

The sound of her laughter reached them at their table, and Ubbe noticed the way Alfred smiled. He couldn’t be sure if Alfred was happy to see his sister with the oldest Ragnarsson, or concerned.

“No, you can’t mean that,” she was currently saying to him. “Not one wound? Nowhere? Not even a scratch?”

“Nothing indeed,” Björn confirmed for her. “It is why I am called ‘Ironside’.”

“So explain to me then, how your brothers are Ragnarssons, but you are Ironside? Should they not instead call you Björn Ragnarsson, the Ironsided?”

This caused Björn to chuckle slightly. Her confusion was somehow very endearing, the way her voice shifted and brows drew together as she tried to figure out the name worked. The Viking chose not to let her suffer with that confusion for too long, and clarified, “I am called Ironside, just as my father was called Ragnar Lothbrok.”

“So, your name was never Björn Ragnarsson?” she questioned, and he nodded.

“It was.”

Her lips pressed together in a frustrated way, and her expression fell flat. He chuckled again. “Now you’re teasing me,” she insisted.

“I am not teasing!” Björn said defensively, even lifting his hands as if in surrender. “It is the truth! I am Björn Ironside, and also Björn Ragnarsson. An earned name can become how you are known, instead of the name you were given at your birth. It is the beginning of your own legacy. I am set apart as my own man by this name, and not simply part of my father’s legacy.”

She couldn’t help herself in saying, “And so, Ivar the Boneless…?”

Björn was clearly not quite sure how to react to this. Of course, he knew what her question was- was that name some part of a legacy he had already made for himself? Or, was it a title given to him simply because his legs did not work? But at the same time, it was a subtle way of asking about him, seeing what he had been up to. If nothing else, it confirmed for Björn that the Princess still cared for the man.

“He was first called that because of his legs,” he ended up explaining. “But now, he has turned that name he was given into a name which… he hopes will be remembered for ages to come. It has become his legacy, and likely, it will be a powerful one at that.”

"But not more powerful than ‘Ironside’,” Aethelind teased, and Björn cracked a grin.

"I should hope not,” he agreed. She giggled lightly at that, and smiled up at him.

“Then make it so, Björn Ironside. If it is what you wish. You seem to be a great man. I don’t doubt you can do what you set your face toward. Though, I still wish there were more I could do to help you in this battle.”

Björn looked at her curiously, tilting his head and pressing his lips tightly together. “Why are you so interested in turning against Ivar?” he asked her. “He was your friend in childhood. Why turn against him now? We cannot have become better friends to you now than he was to you then?”

Aethelind sighed, and leaned against the wall as she considered what he said. “In truth?” she questioned, looking to him with the silent question of if she could speak freely to him or not. He nodded. “I am not interested in turning on him. A peaceful resolution is what I am interested in, where there can be peace among your family again. He may have been my childhood friend, Björn, but he was your brother.” Her hand rested against his arm, and he found her eyes to be perfectly sincere when they met his.

Alfred choked on his drink as he and Ubbe saw the interaction between their siblings.

“All I want,” she continued, though they could not hear her, “is to see your family reconciled.”

“Even if that means standing against Ivar?” he questioned.

“I hope it does not come to that.”

Her mind was working quickly, trying to come up with some way she could make sure it didn’t, near ready to pray for a solution, when Björn spoke again. “If it were possible to speak to Ivar, then I would…” The Viking paused, unsure of what to add to his statement, before shaking his head. “He cannot be reasoned with. Speaking to him would do no good.”

Björn, try as he might, could not have foreseen the response Aethelind would have to his words. He believed it was a worthless cause, talking to Ivar, but to her, he’d provided exactly the thought she’d needed. “Unless the wrong person has been trying all along,” she said, a thoughtful look entering her eye.

“The wrong person?” Björn asked. “How could… who else is there to try?”

When she grinned at him, his eyes widened, and brows creased in shock. “No. You cannot mean…?”

"I do,” she confirmed. “Send me to speak with your brother. Maybe he’ll believe I would still be on his side, and he’ll trust me and my judgement. After all, you and Ubbe spoke as if he were still fond of me. Is that true or isn’t it?”

“By his standards, it is true, but if he would listen to reason, he would have already heard it. His desire to rule Kattegat is not only because he wishes to be King, but because he wants revenge on my mother. Do you not remember-”

“I do,” Aethelind interrupted. “But we are taught against such pursuits here. Surely, I could convince him to let it go? I know the good that comes from forgiveness. I can show him.”

Björn would have scoffed, had he not cared if he offended the Princess. “You would have to convince your brother to send you,” he reminded her. “Without his permission, you will not make it beyond the docks. If he asks me what I believe, then I will not voice my support in this endeavor. You are safe here, Princess. You should remain here.”

Aethelind gave a slight huff, and her hand dropped as she moved to cross her arms. “Then I’ll talk to the rest of your party. Surely one of you will support me.” She thought perhaps Torvi would, maybe Lagertha. If she could get two supporters out of the Vikings, then maybe her brother would listen. And if Lagertha agreed, then she could likely gain Heahmund’s support as well.

The Princess wasn’t blind. She could see easily through the way the two looked at each other, spoke in their hushed tones. And… Well, Heahmund was no longer a Bishop, she figured. With that the case, then he was free to love Lagertha. She couldn’t fault him for finding happiness in a romantic love, when his ability to find it in giving spiritual love to the kingdom of Wessex had been taken. Not by any fault of his, of course, but he had been gone. They’d needed a new Bishop.

Well, Aethelind decided that had all worked out the way it was meant.

She turned to find any one of the Vikings who would be available, and soon noticed her brother talking to a beautiful young woman with long, dark hair and fair skin. His betrothed, then, Princess Elsewith. This meant Ubbe was no longer in conversation with the young King, and so Aethelind soon found he was talking to Torvi. Perfect. She began her walk toward the couple, a warm smile on her face as she approached.

“How are you two enjoying the feast?” she greeted, and Torvi smiled brightly in response.

“It is wonderful,” she answered. “Ubbe and I were just saying how excellent the food is.”

“Yes, we are very impressed with… whoever prepared all this,” Ubbe agreed. “It was done well.”

“Good,” Aethelind said, nodding slightly. “Perhaps the two of you would like to join me for a drink? I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“With us?” Ubbe questioned. “Very well.”

Torvi and Ubbe followed Aethelind as she went toward one of the tables, finding a pitcher of wine and filling their three goblets. Ubbe noted with interest how she didn’t call for a servant to refill their cups, simply doing so herself. Was that common in England? he wondered.

Once they all had some wine, Aethelind led them over to a place they could sit alone, comfortably, and discuss what she’d wanted to. Torvi and Ubbe watched her expectantly, and she smiled. “I have had a thought,” she began. “A plan, perhaps, that may help your plight in Kattegat.”

Ubbe’s brows lifted as he heard this, and Torvi’s eyes widened. “A plan?” he asked. “What sort of plan?”

“None of you want to fight Ivar, and he’s your brother anyhow, it wouldn’t be right,” Aethelind began. “So… someone needs to talk to him. I have it from Björn that this has been tried, that he cannot be reasoned with, but I wonder… Would he listen to someone who wasn’t one of you? Someone who has no stake in this except perhaps bias toward him, even?”

“What are you suggesting?” Torvi asked skeptically. She was beginning to suspect where Aethelind was going with this, and the idea was unsettling to her already.

“I am suggesting… an old childhood friend,” Aethelind replied with a small, playful smirk. “Someone he continued to think of even once he was home.”

"No.” Ubbe’s response was nearly shocking to Aethelind, but she still turned to look at the son of Ragnar. “No, you also have it from all of us that Ivar has changed drastically since he was young.”

“Do we ever change?” Aethelind questioned. “Or do we just think we do?” Ubbe and Torvi looked at her with slight confusion on their faces, unsure now of what she meant by that. But, before they could ask for clarification, she gave it. “You, Ubbe, said that, ‘he is buried beneath years of anger, and pain, and hatred,’ didn’t you? If he really is still there? If that’s true, then why shouldn’t I try and… bring that back out? You told me he was always cruel, but if that were true, then why would he have behaved so… differently with me? Doesn’t it make sense that, if he wasn’t then, he may not be now?”

“You are putting a lot into these uncertainties,” Ubbe said. “You have no way of knowing if Ivar will be cruel to you if you go to Kattegat. If he is, then the worst-case scenario is that he would kill you. Best is that he simply will not listen, and turns you away. And if he is not cruel, there is still no guarantee he will listen to you. Your life is too great a risk to base off nothing more than a ‘what-if’, Princess.”

"I agree with my husband,” Torvi said. “We cannot risk you. If I knew better that you could defend yourself, then perhaps… But for now? I’m sorry, but we just… we don’t have enough information, and Ivar has always been unpredictable as it is.”

“Then it stands to reason that he might just listen after all.”

Torvi and Ubbe were getting rather tired of being so bewildered by her all the time. What could she mean now?

“You predict that at best, he won’t listen, and at worst, he would kill me. But… he is unpredictable, you say. So it stands to reason that he would again be unpredictable, and at worst, listen to me. At best, he may agree to find peace. And Torvi, if you trained me… I could defend myself, and the worst-case would be far less likely to actually be a threat.”

Ubbe looked to Torvi, his brows creasing thoughtfully as he watched his wife carefully consider Aethelind’s words. Her argument did make sense, in a rather twisted up sort of way. She didn’t want to say it, but the logic rather reminded her of Ivar himself. It sounded like exactly how he’d have sold one of his daft plans- the sort that tended to work, she thought begrudgingly- to his brothers. Perhaps this English Princess had the exact same sort of mad genius that Ivar did. If that were so…

“Very well,” she said, with a sigh. “With your King’s permission, and the agreement of the rest of us, and satisfaction that you can defend yourself… I will agree.”

Ubbe’s eyes widened. He’d had a similar train of thought to hers, concerning how Aethelind had defended her argument, but to hear Torvi agree…

“And I suppose I will support my wife,” he said. The words seemed to surprise him, even as they left his mouth. “Her terms seem… reasonable.”

Aethelind grinned happily at their agreement to her plan. “Excellent,” she said. “Björn has already spoken his disapproval of this plan, but I think if I can convince your Queen, the Bishop- who I suppose will agree with her- and my brother, especially with these terms, then he might come around.”

Torvi grimaced at hearing Björn was already against the idea. “Well… That, or we may have to go with the majority,” she conceded.

“Is he that stubborn?” Aethelind asked with a soft chuckle, and Torvi nodded in a slow way that agreed enthusiastically. “Well, a majority will do, then. Excuse me, I have to find Queen Lagertha and speak with her about this, before Björn does and convinces her against it.”

She glanced out into the people, and found Björn speaking with Elsewith and Alfred, now. The sight made her grimace. “Hopefully, he wouldn’t speak of this in front of my brother’s intended…”

“I doubt it,” Ubbe assured her. “It is too private a thing for him to share with any who are uninvolved. If she weren’t there, he might tell your brother, but… He won’t say anything with her there, I don’t imagine.”

Aethelind let out a small breath of relief, and nodded, smiling once more. “Thank you,” she said. “Well, pardon me, and enjoy the feast, and I cannot thank you enough for discussing this with me.” She briefly kissed Torvi on the cheek, a show of her gratitude for the new ideas concerning her plan. And then, she walked away, leaving a wide eyed Torvi and Ubbe- neither of whom had expected that- behind.

Now, she approached Lagertha and Bishop Heahmund, who were still in deep conversation, which made her hesitant to interrupt. But the matter was important, and she figured both Heahmund and Lagertha would be involved, and therefore, Björn likely would feel comfortable speaking to them both on the subject. She needed to get their approval before he gained their dissent.

As she approached, Lagertha offered her a kind smile, and stepped back just a bit from Heahmund. The Princess held back a knowing smirk.

“Queen Lagertha,” she greeted, giving a small curtsy to the shieldmaiden, and turned to Heahmund. “Your Grace. How is the feast treating you both? Well, I hope?”

“Very well,” Lagertha answered. “We could not be more grateful for your hospitality and generosity.”

“You are most welcome to it, Your Highness,” she said with a smile. “We’re happy to have you here. And Bishop Heahmund, it is a joy to see you returned in good health, by God’s good grace.” She put a hand on his arm, a small sign of sincerity.

“Thank you, Princess,” he replied with a smile. “I can only think it must be your prayers, and the prayers of your people, which moved Him to spare me.” Aethelind grinned, and nodded slightly.

“It must have been,” she agreed. “And we thank Him for it. And for your health as well, Queen Lagertha.” She turned to her, and mirrored the placement of her right hand on Heahmund with her left on Lagertha. “You have been through quite an ordeal. It is good to see you have survived, and survived well, it seems.”

“Thank you,” she said. “The gods have certainly been merciful. It is said that I and my allies have lost their favor, but… We are alive, and with good allies. I cannot believe it is so.”

Aethelind smiled, and nodded to that. “Neither can I,” she agreed. “And, on that front, I have had an idea that I have discussed with Prince Ubbe and his wife, Torvi. One that- with mild alteration- they have come to support. It is a plan to begin working toward the restoration of Kattegat to you.”

Lagertha’s eyes widened and her brows lifted in shock. “You have come up with a plan?” she questioned. “A plan to take Kattegat back?” She hadn’t expected the girl to have any military expertise, and yet she found the fact she did to be something of a comfort. Militarily experienced women were rare in England, and so it was calming to her to discover that Aethelind was one such woman.

“Yes,” the Princess confirmed. “This is still contingent on two circumstances, of course, and those circumstances are that Torvi train me to defend myself. Though, thinking now, I can’t help but think you would also be an excellent asset in this, if my grandfather’s stories held any truth- and I fully believe they do. And, that I have majority approval from yourselves, and my brother.”

Lagertha’s brows now drew together suspiciously. What could Aethelind be thinking that would require her and Torvi to train her..? “And what is this plan of yours, Princess?” she asked.

“With training and approval, I would like to go to Kattegat, and meet with Ivar, myself.”

Now Lagertha’s eyes widened, but it was Heahmund who spoke. “You cannot mean this, Princess,” he said. “I have worked at this man’s side… He is ruthless, and wicked, and he will-”

"-Not harm me, I don’t expect,” Aethelind interrupted. “Would you agree that Ivar is unpredictable, Bishop Heahmund?”

Lagertha watched Heahmund as he seemed to be given pause by Aethelind’s question, his eyes focusing on some invisible place, and his mouth hanging slightly open. He blinked a few times, then closed his mouth, and nodded. “I would, Your Highness,” he finally agreed.

“Then if it is predictable that, at best, he might simply not hear me out, and at worst, he may try to kill me- an option made less likely by Torvi and, should she agree, Lagertha’s training- then the unpredictable option would be that he, at worst, will not hear me, and at best, listens. And if he is unpredictable as you say…”

“Then he may hear you out,” Lagertha finished.

“Exactly.”

Heahmund gave a short laugh, one that held no mirth, but that Lagertha recognized as realization. He was coming to agree with Aethelind already. “That’s just mad enough that… with him, it might work,” he said.

“Then you will support me?” Aethelind questioned, her eyes hopeful. He nodded.

“I will,” he said. “My vote… hasn’t been asked for, but I will offer my support in any way I can.”

Aethelind smiled a little, and gave his arm a grateful squeeze. “You know Alfred has always appreciated your council, Bishop Heahmund,” she assured him. “It may just be your voice that convinces him.”

“If your voice cannot, then I doubt any can. Especially considering I doubt your mother will support this.”

The Princess grimaced slightly. “No… I don’t think she will,” she agreed. “But I will have the support of each Viking- save for Björn, I imagine, and hopefully… including yourself, Your Highness.” She turned back to Lagertha briefly as she said this, before returning her attention to Heahmund. “If I can gain Alfred’s approval of this plan, as I gained his approval in allowing me to open my villa to our guests, then… She won’t like it, but I will journey to Kattegat without her permission. I would simply like to have her blessing, is all.”

“You go for a righteous cause, Princess,” Heahmund said. “We will do all we can to ensure you go with the blessing of God.” He didn’t say it explicitly, but she could tell what he meant.

The approval and blessing of her mother, Queen Judith, would mean little, if the Lord Himself were on her side.

“I believe you are right, Your Grace,” she said with a warm smile. “Thank you.” Aethelind took a deep breath, and turned her attentions once more to Lagertha. “And… that leaves you, before I attempt to sway Björn once more, and then my brother. Will you support me, and this plan?”

Lagertha sighed softly, looking into Aethelind’s young face. The Princess was clearly less experienced with war than the Viking had believed at first. She was speaking of going to talk to one of the most dangerous men in their world, a man who Lagertha knew would have little interest in peace. If Aethelind was going to sway him, she would have to do something powerful in order to do so. Something… very clever. She’d have to gain his full trust before even mentioning peace to him. But, this plan, though only the bare bones of it were had at the moment… could perhaps be made into something that would work. She nodded.

“I will want a stronger plan,” she said, “and a new vote when the time comes to send you, so we all are assured that you are as ready as you can be, but… For what you have now, I will support you. And, I will help train you, if you receive your brother’s approval. With myself, Heahmund, Torvi, and Ubbe… This does give you majority from us, so that and your training is settled.”

“Yes,” Aethelind agreed, and grinned. “Thank you for your support, both of you.” She moved so she could speak more directly to both the Queen and the Bishop at once. “I do wish to have Björn’s support in this venture, so I will give him the updated plan, before I speak with my brother about it. Though, I will do so with or without Björn’s approval. Torvi has insinuated that he may be very difficult to convince, so… I don’t hold out too much hope.”

“My son is fond of a good plan, one he believes will work,” Lagertha said. “And, I believe he will see how like Ivar you think.” Aethelind’s eyes widened. “That, in and of itself, has increased my confidence.”

“Might I ask why that is?” Aethelind asked curiously. “Don’t you think that may make Ivar keen to what I’m attempting to do?”

“On the contrary,” Lagertha countered. “It means it may work exactly as we hope it will on him.”

A smile split Aethelind’s face, and she nodded. “Then I hope and pray it will, Your Highness.” She turned to Heahmund, and with a slightly less enthusiastic expression, added, “We all must.”

“And we all will,” he assured her. “But you have business, now. Go to Björn and your brother, convince them as you have us and the others. Then, we’ll see about training you.”

Aethelind’s smile returned in full force, and she nodded eagerly. “Thank you, Bishop Heahmund, I will.” She gave both their arms a small squeeze, and then said, “Enjoy the feast,” before turning and walking away.

“What do you think?” Lagertha asked Heahmund, stepping back in with a look of concern on her face as she watched the Princess go.

Heahmund sighed as he considered carefully his words, also watching Aethelind’s retreating figure. “Her plan is a good one,” he said slowly. “But if it is approved…” He sighed, and gave a small shake of his head. “I will pray to God daily for her safety, and her survival.”

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asotin · 4 years ago

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tobirama might be madara and other thoughts tobirama doesn't want to have

(i tried to organize this and not to get too repetitive or go on a huge tangent about the details of hashirama and tobirama’s strained sibling relationship beyond the way they tie into tobirama and madara, but it’s a ~3k monster and i am but a simple nerd)

ftr i don’t think that everything here is the correct interpretation of what was happening, but i do think it's how tobirama saw things

to get to why tobirama is shit scared of madara, i think you have to begin with when they’re kids and look at his relationship with hashirama because that’s where the seeds of bad choices to come are planted

tobirama prioritizes hashirama. he can think for himself and doesn’t completely follow hashirama’s directions, but lbr he works within the framework of the things hashirama wants and builds. if hashirama had changed his mind and decided that peace was unattainable, tobirama wouldn’t have left him to start a village on his own. he would have stayed with his brother and kept fighting

madara and hashirama being pulled apart started all the shit, but it was tobirama and izuna who tattled and made that happen

why was tobirama following hashirama in the first place? because butsuma told him to? fuck no. he followed hashirama for the same reason izuna followed madara: his brother has been sneaking off without telling him. hashirama is keeping secrets, even from tobirama

you know what makes you feel like shit? guilt

tobirama made hashirama miserable because he did what he was supposed to do and told butsuma about hashirama’s secret friend (read: he did what a jealous kid does and tattled)

from the start of their friendship, hashirama chose madara. he had to stick with tobirama because they’re brothers, but hashirama wanted madara to be in his life because he liked madara

sure, hashirama chose to die before he chose to kill tobirama but what if those hadn’t been the options? what if madara had told hashirama to choose between madara and tobirama?

both of their younger brothers get killed by madara’s family, but hashirama won’t stop talking about his friend who he should have killed but won’t

tobirama killed izuna like he was supposed to but hashirama won’t kill madara

you know what else feels really bad? the possibility that the brother you love and built your life around might hate you but you can’t be sure one way or the other

hashirama is ready to abandon everything for madara, but he doesn’t really acknowledge tobirama. one of the things tobirama is known for- being a sensor- only comes up later, when hashirama mocks him for not noticing that orochimaru has hashirama’s cells. it's sort of brotherly ribbing but because he's never been shown doing that before or joking with anyone other than madara, it feels more barbed than it normally would

hashirama in general kind of ignores tobirama until they butt heads

maybe it's because there isn't a parallel character to tobirama, but tobirama’s scale of someone’s worth is based on hashirama being at the top, while hashirama doesn't think about tobirama at all outside one moment in the flashback where he thinks about wanting to keep his brothers safe

hashirama, who trusted a stranger because he was playing in a river, doesn’t think much of tobirama, and that’s where the fear starts

why doesn’t hashirama like him? what isn't tobirama seeing?

why can’t hashirama forgive tobirama for telling butsuma?

why was it wrong for tobirama to kill izuna when izuna would have killed him?

madara, who wanted to build konoha and loved hashirama (even if you read it as platonic, if they don’t love each other, what the fuck is up between them bc that relationship wasn’t built on superficial trauma bonding), can be forgiven for turning against the village

why is what tobirama did worse than what madara did?

why does hashirama get so fucked up about madara even though madara tried to kill him, but he gets mad at tobirama for being wary of the people who’ve been trying to kill them (and who they’ve been trying to kill) for generations?

the fear of being replaced by madara is already there, and it only grows as hashirama mourns himself into an early death bc he wouldn’t have done that over tobirama

now add to that what happened when madara turned against konoha. more accurately, what didn’t happen

i’m repeating myself here but if tobirama and hashirama had worked together (if hashirama had called for him to help because tobirama has no business hopping into a throwdown between hashirama and madara and he knew it), they could have subdued madara without killing him (technically madara didn’t die, because izanagi or w/e but they didn't know that). hashirama didn’t want to kill madara. he explicitly, specifically did not want to kill madara and only did after madara pushed him into it

so why didn’t hashirama ask for tobirama’s help? if he’s at the point where he’d kill anyone who threatened the village (which i don’t reeeeeally buy as true bc it feels a lot more like something hashirama told himself to make killing madara less, you know, devastating) wouldn’t he prioritize stopping madara as soon as possible? he never showed any doubt in tobirama’s abilities, so if he wasn’t scared of his brother getting killed, why wouldn’t he call tobirama up?

because he doesn’t trust tobirama

hashirama doesn’t distrust other people. he wants to be friends with anyone. madara was attempting to stir up an insurrection, and hashirama still tried to keep him in the village. but he won’t rely on tobirama

so the fear expands

you know what tobirama doesn’t have? friends. a romantic interest. anything for himself as he grows that isn’t wrapped up in hashirama

this man likes rules. that was how he imagined the ideal ninja world. people make agreements and abide by them

if the founders era is an analog to the sengoku period ie the end of the muromachi period, which it is, then it’s worth noting that at this point in its history, real world japan was transitioning from the system of multiple heirs to a single heir. that wasn’t necessarily the oldest, but when one of your kids is a fucking brick shithouse with a kekkei genkai that’s never occurred before but rebellious and the other one is a genius who would be willing to follow through on your family’s blood feud but a) is loyal to his brother and b) has the charisma of a clammy handshake, who are you picking?

no way did tobirama expect to be made heir and imo he wouldn’t have wanted to be. hashirama is good at being the emotional leader and rallying people bc they like him. tobirama isn’t that interested in being the powerful one bc he’s more of a kingmaker

but you know it occurred to him that butsuma should want him to be the heir. hashirama isn’t exactly reliable and he sure doesn’t want to kill uchihas. tobirama would and he’d do it well

even the he doesn’t actually want the role, when you’re like 16 and your brother who you think is naive and lbr incompetent gets picked- something nobody does bc tobirama is, you know, a dick- it’s going to feel significant

so the fear grows more. he doesn’t want to be the head of the clan, but if he’s the one who could carry out butsuma’s plans, why is he still the second choice?

speaking of butsuma and childhood trauma, it’s kind of interesting that tobirama winds up dealing with uchihas the same way he defused butsuma, philosophically

in terms of their behavior, to a traumatized kid who never made any uchiha friends, uchihas could resemble a certain senju, you know?

volatile, self-prioritizing, self-cannibalizing (fighting within the clan, not literal flesh eating), powerful by standing on the backs of others (no way was fugaku the first to think 'i'll show my kid what mass death looks like and that will make him strong.' the sharingan awakens through painful experiences, and uchihas are even more obsessively devoted to their clan than tobirama is to his. but paradoxically, they were ready to double down on inbreeding and blinding themselves to use izanagi, so they wouldn't be above deliberately exacerbating the trauma their kids couldn’t escape anyway for the sake of getting an edge)

to an adult tobirama, the uchihas sure could seem like a clan of butsumas, huh

how did tobirama deal with butsuma? he got in between him and hashirama. and how did butsuma react? he left to cool down (but i’d bet he never really repented, esp bc hitting hashirama wasn’t surprising to any of them)

what does tobirama do with the uchihas? he gets in between them and konoha. if they’re angry with him, they aren’t angry at konoha. he gives them something else to focus on- and tobirama likes rules, so it isn’t that much of a reach to say he’d think that being trusted to be the people keeping the peace was actually an honor- and relocates them. now they can cool off (but their fundamental nature will never really change)

i definitely don’t think most of that is conscious, but you know. he didn’t trust his father and if that’s who he relates the uchihas to, that’s fertile ground for another type of fear

butsuma was fine letting tobirama’s brothers die. what’s to stop the uchihas from letting konoha die?

konoha is entrusted to tobirama. again, though, he isn’t hashirama’s first choice

now he’s afraid of the village falling apart because of madara and his family (read: because tobirama can’t keep them in line) and hashirama’s dream will die because of tobirama

you know what’s a bad idea? fucking around with corpses. you know what else is a bad idea? war crimes. you know what tobirama’s got a lot of? bad ideas

tobirama is intelligent and more concerned with the end result than the way to get there. he has a backwards idea of what protecting people means and a brutal approach to making peace. he loves hashirama (not like madara does but still, you know. he does love his brother)

the major difference between tobirama and madara is the sharingan, which should put madara in a separate class, but the thing is, tobirama is butsuma’s son

you awaken the sharingan by getting hurt. you’re butsuma’s son by learning to do the hurting

there’s a persistent fear that can grow with that knowledge, which i think tobirama wrestled with until he decided it doesn't actually matter- except for the fact that it would matter to hashirama. coupled with the fear that hashirama sees butsuma in tobirama and that’s why he won’t trust tobirama, that isn’t something tobirama could think his way out of

he might be doing the same thing butsuma did, causing harm for nothing

that fear is further compounded by the knowledge that madara would have destroyed everything and tobirama could do the same. without hashirama to argue with him, tobirama can do what he thinks is right. he knows more about making systems that last than hashirama did, so he’s going to put structures into place that will make sure the village survives

the thing is though, tobirama is well aware that madara isn't cruel for the hell of it. he says flat out that madara is dangerous because he loves so much; that intense love got twisted without madara wanting it to be (more below). he let it happen, but he didn’t just choose it

madara isn't just dangerous because he's strong. he's dangerous because he's the only person even hashirama can't just push around and he's personally invested in what he's doing. he believes that what he’s doing is right; he’s invested in being right

he’s following logic. it isn’t good logic by any stretch, but he isn’t just causing chaos just to cause chaos

tobirama follows logic, too. it’s better than madara’s logic because almost anything would be

he’s living his life for the purpose of maintaining hashirama’s dream. tobirama wanted peace, too, but he doesn’t call konoha his dream. konoha is hashirama’s dream. konoha is hashirama's village. tobirama is just trying to make it work

after all, he told butsuma and killed izuna. the least he owes hashirama is the village he wanted. not fun how hashirama would but run better because tobirama knows better

and lbr tobirama is also the second choice for the villagers. constantly standing in hashirama's shadow and feeling the distance between how loved hashirama was and how distantly appreciative the villagers are of tobirama could perhaps be alienating

tobirama can’t protect konoha from madara because he knows he couldn’t beat madara on his own. hashirama and madara know that, too. everybody knows that if it came down to it, a fight between madara and tobirama would go in madara’s favor

madara has the same attitude but about the inevitability of people hurting each other

tobirama can’t control madara. madara can’t control people

the only way to be safe around something you can’t control is to destroy it

tobirama understands madara better than he understands hashirama. hashirama’s dream is impossible. it’s based on thinking people are better than they are. madara isn't right, but he isn't entirely not right

madara was the biggest threat to konoha, and because tobirama isn’t hashirama, he can’t do anything about that except, as the time between hashirama’s and his own grows, understand madara better

this isn’t canonical but it isn’t non-canonical and i think it works so it's going in

tobirama’s palette swap happened because he found out how/why uchihas’ get the sharingan and in his child soldier brain that doesn’t know anything about genetics (but maybe did???), it seemed like a very sound idea to, you know, try to traumatize himself into developing a sharingan as a senju

but he has the wrong ¼ alien’s blood so he doesn’t get the handy dandy cursed eyeballs. what does he get?

obviously, he got his iconic look, tumblr user asotin. you just mentioned the palette swap

i did, and he definitely got his new style. but he got more than that

specifically: a terrifying insight into what uchihas have to feel when they awaken the sharingan. bc he didn’t get the eye upgrade but he did fuck himself up enough to flood his chakra system with pain and turn his eyes red (sadness makes you pale ig? he’s a nerd so maybe he just stayed inside and didn’t eat well. idk and that part is just to enhance how much more he looks like an uchiha than hashirama, who got the ‘be careful who you call ugly in middle school’ bonus)

the amount of emotional distress it took to get there? the shit he had to make himself watch? the things he had to make himself do?

if an uchiha feels that kind of pain just to form the basic sharingan, which isn’t as fucked up as the mangekyo, then please consider how that would feel to a kid whose coping mechanism is repressing

there are rules about what you do in war and in society. tobirama likes rules. tobirama thinks rules will keep peace

so how could he justify violating almost all the rules to make edo tensei? i would like to propose that it isn’t just hypocrisy or machiavellianism taken to an extreme that made it acceptable to him to do everything that must have entailed. i propose that it’s all the fears above and a trauma response that everybody and their grandma knows now but they probably didn’t in the ninja sengoku period:

if you think i’m bad, i may as well be

in his conscious mind, tobirama isn’t bad. he’s necessary. the whole time he’s hokage, he’s doing what needs to be done

in trying to do what a good brother would do, in accepting that there’s something about him that’s malfunctioning, in accepting that his brother will never approve of him, tobirama accidentally became the worst parts of madara

madara did what he did out of love for other people. he’s got the mangekyo and a dead brother. tobirama knows what it’s like to get the first sharingan. how much worse must it feel to get the mangekyo?

tobirama is dispassionate and logical. he isn’t an uchiha. he values kagami and the other, unnamed uchihas who could overcome the curse of hatred, but that's also a condemnation of himself

tobirama couldn't overcome his own hatred. he’s worse than they are, and he knows he is

everything tobirama tried to do better, he made worse. his legacy, the students who carried on his work, nearly destroyed konoha

if hashirama had been forced to choose between tobirama and madara, it would have been better if hashirama had chosen madara. everyone is thinking that

madara betrayed hashirama because he loved so much it turned him against hashirama

tobirama betrayed hashirama because he didn’t have enough love, and every time he’s looked at madara, he’s seen his own inadequacy

#aptxt #naruto #long post #this is such a train wreck and i realized at the end that i only needed the last section and i didn't even need all of that #this doesn't even have the ~800 words cut out the first time lmao #i'm sure i missed some things #the real tl;dr is that tobirama's sense of purpose got too tangled up in what hashirama wanted

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

Text

Survey #459

“i wanted you to know that i love the way you laugh / i wanna hold you high and steal your pain away”

Does the person you like have any flaws? He's never seemed very expressive of what he feels. Has anyone ever given you a ring? Why? Yes. Because it was our anniversary and he wanted to, ig. If you ruled your own country, what type of government would it have? I'm not educated enough to answer this. Creation theory, Evolution or the Big Bang theory? I really don't know what I believe about the origins of the universe, but I do believe in evolution. Describe one of your most emotional farewells. The last time I saw Jason and we talked for a long time, and I finally got my closure. It was all so heavy. It started so stiffly, but it ended with us just chatting and smiling and, to my absolute shock, a hug from him. I'm getting emotional so NEXT QUESTION. What was your last serious conversation about? I was reassuring and comforting Sara about some stuff. Is there a city that you have a particular fondness for? If so, what city is it and why? No. Are there any gnomes in your yard? No. When was the last time you were stung by a bee? What kind was it? Years ago. A bumblebee. Are you gonna buy lottery tickets when you’re old enough? I am old enough, and no. The odds are way, way too small, and I don't really dabble in addictive behavior. Have you ever been into a real cave? No. :( That's a life goal, though. Have you ever posted mean comments on YouTube? I know I did once as a kid. It was regarding Meerkat Manor and I thought it was really disrespectful to Flower just because of the music chosen lmao. The drama. What color is your digital camera, if you have one? Black. If you had to spend one day in any movie storyline, which one would it be? Alice in Wonderland, I suppose? Name the strangest game you’ve ever played (video game or real game): Oh man, I've played waaaaay too many video games. I suppose Silent Hill with how confused it left me at first. Its concept is definitely wild. Parasite Eve is high on the list, too. In your opinion, what is the saddest movie you’ve ever seen? Boy in the Striped Pajamas destroys me. What is the best song to make out to? I could answer this but I'm not gonna lmfao Is there anyone right now that you are simply/overly infatuated with? story of my life ayyyyeeeee Who was the last person to play with your hair? Are they cute? Not a clue. Who was the last person close to you that died? Did you cry? Jason's mom. I sobbed on-and-off for days. Do you consider yourself a healthy person? Physically and mentally? No, in either way. Do you know anyone who owns a boat? My dad does. I'm sure others, too, with how popular fishing out on a boat is here. Do you know anyone who uses medical marijuana? I don't know. Even for medicinal purposes, it's not legal here. Do you know anyone who’s died in childbirth? No. What did you do for your 21st birthday? I was in the psych hospital, so... lmao. Therapy, reading, and coloring. Lots of reading and coloring. Because they did NOT fill your schedule enough there. We only had two group therapy sessions a day, and the rest was just... blankness. If dinosaurs could be tamed, would you want one as a pet? I know I'd be one of the dumb ones that absolutely wanted a tiny raptor, lol. Do you own more than one copy or edition of a book? No. If you could see any musical on Broadway right now, what would it be? Not interested. Do you eat soup when you’re sick? I don't like soup. If you read, which book or series did you enjoy most as a child? My first real series that I read religiously was Hank the Cowdog. Then it was Warriors. Do you buy Halloween candy when it’s on sale after the holiday? No. I really don't need candy available to me. Do you agree with the “they’re just being kids” excuse? It depends on what they're doing. In a lot of cases, no. Do you ever watch talk shows? No. Do you have a/any hero(s)? Mark Fischbach, Steve Irwin, my mom... Have you told your parents all of your secrets from when you were a teen? No. Though Mom has playfully once told me that she knows a lot of things I don't think she does, and that's terrifying lmao. You’re getting married. Who’s your maid of honor and best man? M.o.H.: Mom or Sara. Best man isn't my choice. Would you rather get highlights or dye your whole head? DYE IT ALLLLLLL. Are you wearing anything of any sentimental value? Describe? My friendship ring w/ Sara. It has a heart carved on the outside and "bitch" engraved inside so no one can see when you have it on, lol. She has one that says "jerk." It's a Supernatural reference. Who challenges you the most? In what way? My therapist and psychiatrist. They just help ensure I pursue my goals and give me little nudges forward to reassure me. Who seems to hold you back? In what way? PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT ME. I listen to my anxiety WAY too much. What was the last opportunity that you passed up, and why? Going up to Lake Gaston w/ Mom to visit Ash and her fam. They go there all the time, and it's a real nice place. I just didn't want to go because of the heat. Should there be an application process for having children? Hunny, that would not stop people from fuckin lmfao Name one thing that you think defines you as a person? m e e r k a t s What is a fear you have about living on your own? That depression would get the better of me and I'd neglect taking good care of my house. One of the many reasons I'll never live alone. Not at all saying I'd leave the responsibilities to my partner, but they'd be motivation for me to get stuff done. What’s the worst name your mom has ever called you? I don't know. Nothing that bad. What’s your stance on spooning? It helps me feel safe and loved and alsdkfjalwe I just love cuddling in all sorts lmao What’s your most recent obsession? Violet Orlandi & Melodicka Bros' cover of "Somebody That I Used to Know." Have you ever been scammed? Ha ha, yes. I once wanted to get Jason a Joker and Harley Quinn pillow from deviantART; talked to the artist, paid 'em, never got it. :^) Have you ever fostered an animal? No. I would get WAY too attached to foster. I wouldn't be able to give them up without breaking down, probs. Do you know anyone who acts way younger than what they are? I'm sure I do, but no one is coming to mind atm. Would you say you’re a pretty independent person? God no. Does the last song you listened to, remind you of someone? JASON. Do you currently want a new computer? Yes, actually. I want a desktop PC for better gaming quality, honestly. Also, the "escape" key doesn't work on this laptop, one key is missing so I have to hit the sensor JUST right, and it restarts randomly sometimes. I want a PC mainly because I want to get out of the habit of being on my laptop in bed all damn day. How would your parents react if you got a tattoo? I already have like six or seven, so they wouldn't be surprised. Is there anyone you can picture yourself being with forever right now? Maybe. Who is your truest friend? Sara. What is the strangest thing you’ve ever seen outside of your house? THIS house? Idk. Nothing that I'd consider odd. What bug frightens you most? STAG BEETLES lkadjslkfja;lwekjawl;kejrlawer Who is your oldest friend? That would be Sam, and he's in his mid-30s. How long have you known them? Many years. We met via WoW, which I've been playing since '14. I don't really remember how far into it we met, though. Where are they right now? lol I wouldn't know, he's all the way in Jersey. Plus we haven't talked in a while. Have you ever dated a friend of one of your siblings? God no, that would be so weird. What is the best gift someone can give you? An ear to listen without it feeling like a chore to them. Have you ever dated someone who had a child? No. I don't think I could do it. What is the last movie that made you cry? The The Lion King remake made me tear up. Have you ever played in a waterfall? No. Ugh, that sounds like a blast. In your life who has meant the most to you? Let's not get into this. What has been your biggest failure in life? Letting depression and my other conditions take away my identity, becoming my new identity. Do you trust yourself? No. I second-guess EVERYTHING and never know what I should listen to: my heart, my head, my gut... or which voice is what. Would you ever consider getting an abortion, under any circumstances? Yes. What was the last bug you killed? Some kind in the bathroom. Idk what it was. Just a little thing that sort of resembled an earwig, but not completely. Do you prefer profile pictures by yourself of with someone else? By myself, since it's my page. Do you know anyone who has written a book? I don't think so? Do you drink milk/juice from the carton if no one is around? Ew, no. I live with another person, and even if I didn't, what if I had guests? Has anyone ever told you they liked you in a realllly sweet way? Maybe? Has a member of the opposite sex ever given you jewlery? Jason has. Do you find sleeping in cars easy? NOOOOOOOOOO. I'm too scared to let my eyes close and not see what's going on on the road. Has a boyfriend’s/girlfriend’s parents ever gotten mad at you? Why? I don't believe so, no. What is the funniest thing a child has ever said to you. Definitely something my niece has said, but idr what it was. What’s been on your mind lately? Y'all know, lol. Do you feel like you need to get something off your chest? No. Sara was recently there for that. ♥ How would you react if someone told you they had feelings for you? Be very very excited if it was from a certain person.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''broken'' by seether (ft. amy lee)

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