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#the found family.....maybe not found family but FORGED FAMILY THEY MADE IT WORK

stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage · 11 months

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I said I wasn't going to get started on the topic of Aveline ruining Carver's chances with the guard but I lied okay, it's Carver Hawke defense hours.

Here's the thing; it doesn't matter if you believe Carver was or wasn't fit for the guard. That's a different debate that I'll get to. What matters is Aveline's in no position to tell the guard not to accept his application. Why does she think that's her right to judge whether or not he's fit?

Carver should've had the chance to prove himself one way or another. If it turns out he's not a good fit, then let him fail. Let him learn from it.

"Oh but failure could mean lost lives-"

Aveline doesn't get to talk shit about failure and the people. Plenty have died on her watch yet she still believes she's a good guard and Guard-Captain.

"maybe Aveline's protecting him, Carver could die while on patrol-"

Carver could die working in the Bone Pit, or serving as a templar, or when he's running around with Hawke. Carver could trip and fall down a set of stairs and die. In fact, he can die in the Deep Roads, somewhere he wouldn't have to go if the Hawke's weren't desperate.

Either Carver fails as a guard, or more likely, he succeeds and proves himself worthy of it.

But let's be real, Carver probably kept getting rejected due to being a Fereldan with a past of smuggling/mercenary work and Aveline only reaffirmed the decision, either because they asked her what she thought or she stuck her nose in unprompted.

But what irritates me is that she admits to telling them not to accept his application, and then has the balls to call Carver too proud to take up a trade or find another line of work.

Carver tells her, "And who would take on a Fereldan apprentice? Maybe in another year I could work my way up to pissboy." He has a good point here. Aside from the guard, the only other place Carver could work and use his skillset is with the Templars. Or go back to mercenary/smuggling work.

And Aveline doesn't even have a real answer for him. No suggestions, no encouragement, nothing. Just "Fine, let's crawl down some holes. Good bloody luck for your sake."

Also, if you do the Mark of the Assassin DLC in Act 1-

Aveline: You should see if any of the noblemen are looking for new men-at-arms. Carver: Are you trying to get rid of me? Aveline: It's a role with some autonomy. A good fit with your training and... tendencies. Carver: After serving King Cailan? You want me to suffer some poncy git who needs two servants to wipe his own ass? I'll find my own way, thanks. Aveline: I wish you would.

You wish he would?? Aveline, he was trying to find his way into the guard, a position he'd make a good fit for, and you helped deny him of it because YOU didn't think he would be good enough, I just-

If I haven't made it clear yet, I firmly believe that Carver would've made a great guard. He wants to help people, to be a protector. He's loyal, and despite what Aveline claims, he can follow orders and take his duty seriously. We see him do incredibly well with the Grey Wardens, after all. If he were a guard, he wouldn't have to go down into the Deep Roads with Hawke, and I think he would've been okay with that! He's so hurt and bitter when you leave him behind because that effectively tells him, "I don't need you." Carver's spent the whole first act telling you he wants to go on the expedition aka that he wants to be needed.

But if he were a guard, he would be needed elsewhere. He'd be in training as a recruit. He'd look after Leandra while you go. He wouldn't be backed into a corner with no income and only the templars left as his chance at forging his own path and providing for his family.

He doesn't get that opportunity, though.

By the way, if he becomes a warden, you can get this banter:

Aveline: I'm glad you found a place with the Wardens. Carver: Well, it's not the city guard, but it'll do. Aveline: Carver... it wasn't the place for you. Carver: No, it's all right. It is. It cost a lot, but I get it. I really was a bit of a tit those days, wasn't I? Aveline: Well...

This banter makes me want to scream.

Aveline's just... she's so insistent that she's right. She's someone who will double down rather than entertain the idea that she's wrong and it's not just with Carver and the guard, it's with everything. The "my beef with Aveline" list gets longer and longer every time I replay da2, I swear.

Say what you will about Carver, whether you think he would've been a good fit or if Aveline's right and it wasn't for him, he was denied a chance and it cost him so much in the end. He either dies, or he joins the templars where he deals with Chantry's bullshit trying to brainwash him with "mages aren't people" and "magic is a cancer in this world", or he's infected with the blight and becomes a Grey Warden, forced to serve the rest of his life fighting darkspawn, tormented by voices and nightmares.

I will never not be bitter about this.

#dragon age 2 #da2 #dragon age #carver hawke #aveline vallen #aveline critical #oh and also forever bitter that hawke doesn't have the option to talk to aveline about this #because listen my hawke would be on this #carver would be annoyed and all 'i don't need your help >:[' but that's not gonna stop ed from turning on Big Brother Mode #this is just one of many reasons i can't do the friendship path with aveline #i hate the thought of doing rivalries for all my other companions but i feel like aveline's rivalry route is the only chance to shake her #of her unwarranted over confidence and make her realize that she's not this lawful good 'i stand for all of us' guard captain #she still stands with me in the end but at that point i wouldn't be surprised if she was just doing to because she still feels she owes ed #for getting her outta fereldan and into kirkwall rather than because we're loyal best friends y'know?#she's certainly not doing it for the mage rights #but anyway i never miss an opportunity to defend carver #that's my baby brother and i love him

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hazbininlove · 2 months

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Hopelessly Devoted

Lucifer x OC

Summary: When the Divine created his angels, it was no secret that Lucifer, his Morning Star, was one of his favorites. It also was no secret that Lucifer was lonely. And so he crafted another, a half, crafted in the light of that same star. This was Esther, the Evening Star. They were two halves of a whole, balancing and completing each other perfectly. They were a pair always seen together.

Until they weren’t.

Prologue

Once upon a time, there was a glowing city protected by golden gates, known as Heaven. It was ruled by beings of pure light: Angels that worshiped good, and shielded all from evil.

Lucifer was one of these angels. He was a dreamer with fantastical ideas for all of creation, but he was seen as a troublemaker by the elders of Heaven. For they felt his way of thinking was dangerous to the order of their world. So he watched as the angels began to expand the universe in their ways.

What most versions of the Story of Hell fail to mention was another angel, created together with Lucifer. She was Esther. Where Lucifer brought light upon the angels, she signaled the dark. Together, they balanced each other. They were created for each other! Esther loved to listen to his ideas, even encouraged them, but also grounded them and helped tame the more nonsensical. When they were together, he seemed like less of a troublemaker, and she seemed brighter and more approachable.

From the dust of Earth, angels created Adam and Lilith: equals as the first of mankind. They were crafted in the idea of Lucifer and Esther, wanting mankind to begin with a couple properly balanced. Where they failed was in not knowing that personalities could not be easily recreated. Adam demanded control and Lilith refused to submit to his will. She fled the garden.

Drawn in by her fierce independence, much like his other half’s, Lucifer found her.

Here again, the true story of Hell differs, changed over time by Hell’s denizens who only knew what they saw. Lucifer and Lilith found a friendship forged from rebellion and dreams. They talked about their hopes for this new world, and together, they wished to share the magic of free will with humanity, offering the fruit of knowledge to Adam’s new bride, Eve, who gladly accepted.

But this gift came with a curse, for with this single act of disobedience, evil finally found its way into Earth. With it, a new realm of darkness and sin, and the order Heaven had worked to maintain was shattered. As punishment for their reckless act, Heaven cast Lucifer and his friend into the dark pit he had created, never allowing him to see the good that came from humanity, only the cruel and the wicked.

Ashamed, Lucifer lost his will to dream, but Lilith thrived, empowering demonkind with her voice and her songs. And left alone back in Heaven without her light-bearer was Esther…

And as the numbers of hell grew, so did its power. Threatened by this, Heaven made a truly heartless decision; that every year, they would send down an army and extermination to ensure hell and its sinners could never rise against them.

But Lilith’s hope remained, and her dream was passed down to her’s and Lucifer’s precious daughter, the Princess of Hell.

“Charlie?”

”Oh, shit! Did you hear all that?” Charlie asks awkwardly, looking back to see her girlfriend Vaggie.

”Uh, yeah, I was right there.”

“Sorry, I get pretty worked up after an extermination happens. This story helps.”

”I know. Don’t worry, I enjoy your theatrics. Are you okay?” Vaggie asks, a soft reassuring smile on her lips as she moves to sit across from her girlfriend.

”I’m fine, just thinking about, you know, family stuff… Did you know my parents never really married? Mom never really found anyone she truly loved and Dad well… he lost his. They were friends! Still are, I think. They had me hoping maybe love would spark between them but it just never clicked, I guess. But I mean, love doesn’t always have to be romantic! And-“

“Charlie,” Vaggie starts, cutting off her rambling. “I get it. You don’t have to justify anything to me.”

“I know, I just…” Charlie sighs, leaning her shoulder against Vaggie’s. “I love my parents, and I know they love me! And I know they loved each other in their own way! I don’t know, part of me wishes that they’d loved each other a little more, or married someone they truly loved! Except now Mom’s been gone for seven years and if Dad hasn’t been able to move on from someone who he was with before the Earth and Hell were even created, I don’t think he’ll ever be able to! I mean, he gave up on his dreams but not on her?! Talk about devotion!”

“It’s kind of nice though, isn’t it? Or bittersweet, I guess, to know that you can love someone so unconditionally, even after centuries apart?” Vaggie asks, trying to lift the mood.

Charlie looks up at her from her spot on her shoulder and smiles back, feeling a warmth fill her chest as she looks into her love’s eyes.

”Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

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Just the prologue!! I promise this won’t just be a rewrite. I just wanted to use the story Charlie tells in the beginning to highlight the background of this plot.

This is NOT a cheating plot. I am not a fan of those, nor of making Lilith or Lucifer the bad guy in this situation (ironic, I know considering they’re the king and queen of Hell). Also I do what to eventually write a story about Lilith and Lucifer with a third but that’s not this story.

Lilith and Lucifer’s relationship in this story is strictly platonic. They love each other, but as friends, and they both acknowledge that. Idk but after watching the show, I know it’s implied that Lilith left 7 years ago but it feels like their relationship was already on the decline even in Charlie’s childhood and it felt like having her was almost like a way to try and salvage their relationship, which ultimately failed.

Anyway this idea came from that, and the fact that the Morningstar refers to the planet Venus, which is ALSO called the Eveningstar. And the same way Lucifer is means “the shining one” or another name for the morning star, Esther also means “Star”.

And well, as a libra ruled by the planet Venus, representing love and balance, this felt very fitting.

#hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #Lucifer Morningstar Hazbin hotel #Hazbin hotel Lucifer reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer x oc #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #Lucifer reader #Lucifer OC #Hazbin hotel fanfiction

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estapa-edwards · 15 days

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BACK IN MICHIGAN - R. MCGROARTY

paring: Rutger Mcgroarty x fem! reader

word count: 5.5k

requested? yes - the youngest hughes sister having joined the nhl and started playing a team that wasn’t close by to any of her brothers maybe the jets??? and she’s in the playoffs so they all came out to see her play. rutger and her having started getting closer and anyone of the team could tell they liekd each other so the hughes all notice it but they also notice how much of a family she has seen to made in the team

warnings: use of y/n.

THANK YOU GUYS FOR 100 FOLLOWERS

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Y/N Hughes was never one to shy away from a challenge. With the blood of hockey legends coursing through her veins, she set out to conquer the ice on her terms. Unlike her brothers, who dominated the league with their respective teams, Y/N chose a different route. She opted to join the Winnipeg Jets, a team far from the familiar territory of her brothers' teams. This decision wasn't just about distance; it was about carving her identity away from the shadows of her siblings' legacy.

The Jets weren't just a team for Y/N; they were a new family, a group of warriors bound by a shared love for the game. Among them was Rutger McGroarty, a name synonymous with grit and determination on the ice. Y/N and Rutger's paths intertwined long before they donned the Jets' jersey. They were college comrades, forging a bond that transcended the rink. As fate would have it, their journey continued in the NHL, with both finding themselves wearing the same colors once again.

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Their college experience was like any other student-athlete's – a whirlwind of classes, practices, and games. Yet, amidst the chaos of their schedules, Y/N and Rutger found solace in each other's company. They were drawn together by their shared passion for the game, spending countless hours on the ice perfecting their skills and pushing each other to new heights.

But their bond extended beyond the rink. They were kindred spirits, united by a fierce determination to succeed and a relentless work ethic that set them apart. Whether it was late-night study sessions or impromptu adventures around campus, Y/N and Rutger were inseparable, their laughter echoing through the halls as they navigated the highs and lows of college life together.

As teammates, they were formidable, their chemistry on the ice undeniable. Y/N's lightning speed and precision passing complemented Rutger's brute strength and unwavering resolve, creating a dynamic duo that struck fear into the hearts of their opponents. But it was off the ice where their friendship truly flourished.

In each other, Y/N and Rutger found a confidant, someone who understood the unique pressures they faced as student-athletes. They shared their hopes and dreams, their fears and insecurities, building a foundation of trust and mutual respect that would withstand the test of time. Together, they navigated the highs of victory and the lows of defeat, leaning on each other for support when the weight of expectations became too much to bear.

In the quiet moments between classes and practices, Y/N and Rutger found sanctuary in each other's company. Their dorm rooms became havens where they could escape the chaos of college life and simply be themselves. It was here, in the intimacy of their shared space, that they had some of their most profound conversations.

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Late into the night, with the soft glow of their laptops casting shadows on the walls, Y/N and Rutger would talk for hours about their dreams and aspirations. They shared a vision of one day making it to the NHL, of hoisting the Stanley Cup high above their heads and etching their names into hockey history. But amidst the lofty goals and grand ambitions, they also spoke of their fears – the fear of failure, of letting down their teammates, of falling short of the expectations placed upon them.

Y/N sat cross-legged on her bed, laptop perched on her knees, while Rutger lounged in the bean bag chair beside her, his own laptop open in front of him. The dim light of their room created a cozy atmosphere, perfect for the late-night conversations they often found themselves engaged in.

"You know," Y/N said, breaking the comfortable silence, "sometimes I wonder if we're crazy for dreaming this big."

Rutger looked up from his screen, a small smile playing on his lips. "Crazy or not, I wouldn't want to chase this dream with anyone else."

Y/N chuckled softly. "Yeah, I guess you're right. It's just... daunting, you know? The NHL feels like this distant, unattainable goal sometimes."

Rutger nodded in understanding. "I get it. But think about how far we've come already. We've put in the work, honed our skills, and earned the respect of our teammates. We're closer than we think."

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I know you're right. It's just hard to shake off the doubt sometimes."

Rutger reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder. "We all have our moments of doubt, Y/N. But we can't let fear hold us back. We have to keep pushing forward, one step at a time."

She smiled gratefully at him, feeling a wave of reassurance wash over her. "Thanks, Rutger. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Rutger returned her smile, his eyes reflecting genuine warmth. "Likewise, Y/N. We're in this together, remember?"

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Their friendship was the kind that seemed to transcend boundaries, drawing them together like magnets no matter where they went. Whether it was on the ice, in the classroom, or simply hanging out in their dorm room, Y/N and Rutger were inseparable.

Their teammates often joked about how they were joined at the hip, their camaraderie evident in the way they moved and interacted with each other. It wasn't uncommon for people to mistake them for a couple, their easy banter and shared laughter fueling the rumors.

But Y/N and Rutger paid the speculation no mind. They were content in the comfort of their friendship, secure in the knowledge that their bond went far deeper than any fleeting romance. They shared a connection that went beyond the superficial, built on a foundation of trust, mutual respect, and unwavering support.

And so, they continued to spend their days and nights together, their friendship growing stronger with each passing moment. Whether it was studying for exams, cheering on their teammates from the sidelines, or simply enjoying each other's company, Y/N and Rutger were always there for each other, a constant presence in each other's lives.

As the rumors persisted and the whispers grew louder, they simply shrugged them off, their smiles never faltering. For Y/N and Rutger, their friendship was all that mattered, and they wouldn't let anything – not even the speculation of others – come between them.

The tension in the locker room was palpable as the Michigan Wolverines prepared to take the ice for the most important game of the season. Y/N and Rutger sat side by side, their heads bent together as they discussed strategy, their voices hushed but determined.

"We need to shake things up," Rutger said, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Their defense is tight, but I think we can exploit the gap on the left side."

Y/N nodded, her eyes alight with determination. "Agreed. If you can draw their defenseman towards you, I'll slip through and position myself for the pass."

Rutger grinned, a spark of excitement igniting in his eyes. "Sounds like a plan. Let's show them what we're made of."

With their strategy in place, they joined their teammates on the ice, the roar of the crowd echoing in their ears. The game was tense, with both teams fighting tooth and nail for every inch of ice.

As the final minutes of the game ticked away, the score remained deadlocked. But Y/N and Rutger refused to let despair set in, their determination unwavering as they fought for victory.

With less than a minute left on the clock, Rutger saw his opening. With lightning speed, he weaved through the opposing defense, drawing their attention away from Y/N who streaked towards the net with laser focus.

In a split-second decision, Rutger sent a perfectly timed pass soaring across the ice, the puck gliding effortlessly towards Y/N's waiting stick.

Time seemed to stand still as Y/N positioned herself, her heart pounding in her chest as she prepared to make her move. With a swift flick of her wrist, she sent the puck flying towards the net, the sound of it hitting the back of the goal ringing out like music to her ears.

The crowd erupted into cheers as the final buzzer sounded, signaling their victory. Y/N and Rutger embraced in a tight hug, their faces alight with joy and triumph.

"We did it," Y/N exclaimed, her voice filled with awe.

Rutger grinned, his eyes shining with pride. "We sure did. Couldn't have done it without you, Y/N."

As they skated off the ice, their teammates cheering them on, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over her. Gratitude for Rutger, for his unwavering support and unwavering belief in her abilities.

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Y/N and Rutger lounged on the couch, their laughter filling the air as they scrolled through TikTok videos together. It was a rare moment of relaxation after their recent victory, and they were relishing every second of it.

As Y/N swiped through her "For You" page, a familiar face appeared on the screen – Rutger's. She couldn't help but grin as she tapped on the video, eager to show him.

"Hey, check this out," she said, turning her phone towards him.

Rutger leaned in, his eyes widening in surprise as he watched himself on the screen. "Whoa, that's me!" he exclaimed, a mix of excitement and disbelief in his voice.

Y/N laughed, nodding enthusiastically. "Yep, someone made an edit of you. It's actually really cool."

As they watched the video together, Y/N's finger hovered over the screen, her intention to show Rutger quickly overshadowed by a sudden slip of her thumb. In an instant, she accidentally liked the video, her heart sinking as she realized her mistake.

"Oh no," she gasped, her eyes widening in horror. "I didn't mean to do that!"

Rutger looked at her, a puzzled expression on his face. "What happened?"

Y/N swallowed nervously, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I... I accidentally liked the video. On my public account."

Rutger's eyes widened in understanding as the implications of Y/N's mistake sank in. Their teammates had already been teasing them about their close friendship, and now, with Y/N accidentally liking an edit of Rutger, the rumors were bound to escalate.

"Oh man," Rutger muttered, running a hand through his hair. "This is not good."

Y/N groaned, feeling a knot of anxiety forming in the pit of her stomach. "I know. People are going to think... they're going to think we're dating for sure."

Rutger sighed, his expression resigned. "Well, I guess there's nothing we can do about it now. We'll just have to deal with whatever comes our way."

As they continued to scroll through TikTok, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over her. She knew that their accidental like would only fuel the rumors surrounding their relationship, but deep down, she also knew that their friendship was worth more than any speculation or gossip.

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The bright lights of the arena illuminated the stage as Y/N and Rutger took their seats for the pre-game interview. The anticipation in the air was electric, a buzz of excitement permeating the atmosphere as they prepared to discuss the upcoming game.

The interviewer, a cheerful woman with a microphone in hand, smiled warmly at them as the cameras began to roll. "Welcome, Y/N and Rutger! It's great to have you both here. Let's jump right into it – you two have been playing exceptionally well together on the ice. Some fans are even speculating that there might be more than just friendship between you. Care to comment?"

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat at the question, her gaze flickering to Rutger for a brief moment before returning to the interviewer. She swallowed nervously, her mind racing as she searched for the right words.

Before she could respond, Rutger spoke up, his tone casual but firm. "No, we're not dating. We're just good friends and teammates who happen to have a great on-ice chemistry."

Y/N's heart sank at his words, a pang of hurt flashing through her chest despite her best efforts to suppress it. She forced a smile onto her lips, nodding in agreement with Rutger's response.

"Right, just good friends," she echoed, her voice betraying none of the turmoil swirling within her.

The interviewer smiled, seemingly satisfied with their answer. "Well, you two certainly make a formidable team regardless. Best of luck in tonight's game!"

As the interview concluded and they made their way back to the locker room, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment that lingered within her. She had always known that she and Rutger were just friends, but hearing him dismiss the idea of them dating so quickly had stung more than she cared to admit.

In the quiet of the locker room, she took a moment to collect herself, plastering a smile onto her face as she prepared to face their teammates. But deep down, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered within her. She knew that their friendship was worth more than any rumors or speculation, but a small part of her couldn't help but wonder if there was something more between them after all.

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As Y/N and Rutger settled into their roles on the Winnipeg Jets, their bond on and off the ice only seemed to grow stronger. They continued to be each other's rock, supporting and pushing one another to new heights with each game they played.

But amidst the chaos of the NHL season, Y/N found herself grappling with feelings she had long kept buried – feelings that went beyond friendship. She watched as Rutger dazzled on the ice, his skill and determination shining brighter than ever, and couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration and affection swell within her.

Yet, she kept her feelings hidden, burying them beneath layers of friendship and camaraderie. She couldn't risk jeopardizing their relationship, especially not when they were both focused on achieving their dreams in the NHL.

But fate had a way of throwing unexpected curveballs, and one evening, during a crucial game against a fierce rival, history seemed to repeat itself. As the clock ticked down and the tension mounted, Y/N found herself in the perfect position to recreate the play that had once brought them victory back in Michigan.

With Rutger by her side, she darted across the ice, her heart pounding with anticipation as she positioned herself for the pass. And just like before, Rutger delivered, sending the puck sailing towards her with pinpoint precision.

Time seemed to slow as Y/N made her move, the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins as she fired the puck towards the net. And then, with a resounding thud, it hit its mark – the same pass, the same goal they had scored together all those years ago.

The arena erupted into cheers as their teammates rushed to congratulate them, but amidst the jubilation, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of déjà vu that washed over her. It was as if time had folded in on itself, bringing them full circle to where it all began.

Amidst the jubilation, Rutger made his way over to Y/N, a grin stretching across his face as he clapped her on the back. "That was incredible, Y/N," he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine excitement. "You really nailed it out there."

Y/N returned his smile, her heart fluttering at his praise. "Thanks, Rutger. I couldn't have done it without your perfect pass."

As they basked in the glow of their victory, Rutger's expression turned thoughtful, a hint of nostalgia flickering in his eyes. "You know," he began, his tone soft but earnest, "that goal we just scored... it reminded me of our time back in Michigan."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat at his words, her mind racing with memories of their days as college teammates. "Yeah," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "It felt like déjà vu, didn't it?"

Rutger nodded, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "It did. Back then, we were just a couple of rookies with big dreams. And now, here we are, living those dreams together in the NHL."

Y/N's heart swelled with emotion as she gazed at Rutger, her feelings for him bubbling to the surface with each passing moment. "Yeah," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Here we are."

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At team dinners, amidst the clinking of utensils and the chatter of their teammates, Y/N found solace in the familiar presence of Rutger beside her. It had become a ritual of sorts for them to sit next to each other, their seats gravitating towards one another as naturally as breathing.

During team dinners, Y/N often found herself gravitating towards Rutger, drawn to the comfort and familiarity of his presence. As they sat side by side, their shoulders brushing against each other in a silent display of solidarity, she found solace in his company.

Rutger had a way of making her feel seen and understood, his easygoing demeanor putting her at ease even in the midst of a bustling dinner crowd. He knew so much about her life – the trials and triumphs, the joys and struggles – and there was a certain comfort in knowing that he was always there to listen, to support her, to be her rock in times of need.

As they engaged in light-hearted banter and shared inside jokes, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for Rutger's unwavering friendship. He was more than just a teammate; he was her confidant, her ally, her closest companion in a world that often felt overwhelming and uncertain.

But amidst the warmth and camaraderie of their team dinners, there were moments when Y/N's insecurities threatened to resurface. It was during one such dinner that someone not on her team mentioned her family, their words casting a shadow over the jovial atmosphere.

"They say she's always lived in her brothers' shadows," the voice said, loud enough for Y/N to hear.

Her heart skipped a beat as she forced a smile onto her lips, her grip tightening on her utensils as she struggled to maintain her composure. The words stung, dredging up painful memories of feeling overlooked and overshadowed by her brothers' achievements.

But before the words could fully settle in her mind, Rutger's touch brought her back to the present. His hand found hers under the table, his grip gentle yet reassuring as he squeezed her leg in silent solidarity.

In that simple gesture, Y/N found the comfort and support she had been seeking. Rutger knew her struggles, understood the pressures she faced, and offered his unwavering support without needing to say a word.

"Y/N is one of the most talented and hardworking players I know," he said, his words carrying across the table with quiet conviction. "She's earned every success she's had on her own merit, and anyone who says otherwise doesn't know what they're talking about."

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

As the playoffs approached, the excitement in the air was palpable, a tangible energy that permeated every aspect of life both on and off the ice. For Y/N, it was a time of heightened anticipation, a chance to prove herself on the biggest stage of them all alongside her teammates, including her steadfast companion, Rutger.

As the playoffs drew nearer, Y/N decided to take a bold step and introduce Rutger to her family. She knew that her parents and siblings were eager to meet the man who had become such an integral part of her life, both on and off the ice. And as she watched Rutger interact with her family, she couldn't help but feel a swell of pride and affection for the man by her side.

Her parents, Ellen and Jim Hughes, greeted Rutger with warm smiles and open arms, instantly putting him at ease with their genuine warmth and hospitality. And as they observed the easy camaraderie and shared laughter between Y/N and Rutger, it was clear to see that they were more than just teammates – they were kindred spirits, united by a bond that transcended the confines of the hockey rink.

Ellen Hughes, in particular, couldn't help but notice the undeniable connection between Y/N and Rutger. She had long been aware of her daughter's major crush on Rutger, her keen maternal instincts picking up on the subtle cues and glances that betrayed Y/N's true feelings.

But as she watched the two of them together, Ellen couldn't help but feel a surge of hope and optimism. Rutger was more than just a teammate – he was a kind and caring presence in Y/N's life, someone who brought out the best in her both on and off the ice. And as she looked at them, laughing and joking together like old friends, Ellen couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the man who had captured her daughter's heart.

As the playoffs intensified and the pressure mounted, Y/N and Rutger found themselves locked in a fierce battle on the ice. But instead of crumbling under the weight of expectation, they rose to the occasion, their chemistry igniting like never before as they propelled their team towards victory.

With every pass and every play, it was as if they were in perfect sync, their movements fluid and instinctual as they danced across the ice in a mesmerizing display of teamwork and skill. They seemed to anticipate each other's every move, their connection transcending words as they communicated through subtle gestures and knowing glances.

After the game, as they sat together in the locker room, still buzzing with adrenaline from their hard-fought victory, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the intensity of their performance.

"Did you feel that out there?" she asked, her voice filled with awe and wonder. "It was like our chemistry exploded on the ice. We were unstoppable together."

Rutger nodded, a wide grin spreading across his face as he relived the exhilaration of the game. "I know what you mean," he replied, his eyes alight with excitement. "It's like we were on the same wavelength, reading each other's minds out there. It was incredible."

Y/N nodded in agreement, her heart swelling with pride at the thought of what they had accomplished together. "I've never felt anything like it," she admitted, her voice tinged with amazement.

It's like we were meant to be." Y/N's heart skipped a beat at Rutger's words, her breath catching in her throat as she processed the weight of his statement.The words echoed in her mind, sending a flurry of emotions coursing through her veins.

"Oh," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, but filled with a depth of feeling that she couldn't quite articulate. In that moment, the air between them seemed charged with an electric tension, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the space between them.

Rutger's gaze softened, his eyes searching hers with a mixture of warmth and vulnerability. "I didn't mean it like that," he said, his voice gentle but earnest. "I just meant... I don't know, it's hard to explain."

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding in her chest as she struggled to make sense of her own emotions. "I know what you mean," she replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "It's just... it feels like we have this connection, you know? Like we were always meant to find each other, even if it's just as teammates."

Rutger reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch sending shivers down her spine. "Yeah," he said, his voice soft but sure. "I feel it too."

As Rutger's touch lingered on her skin, Y/N couldn't help but wish that he could feel the same depth of emotion stirring within her. The uncertainty gnawed at her, a constant ache in the pit of her stomach as she grappled with the weight of her unspoken feelings.

But little did she know, Rutger's heart beat in rhythm with hers, his own emotions swirling in a tumultuous whirlwind of longing and desire. With every glance, every touch, every shared moment, he found himself falling deeper under Y/N's spell, unable to deny the magnetic pull she held over him.

As they sat together in the quiet intimacy of the locker room, Rutger wrestled with his own inner turmoil, his mind consumed by thoughts of Y/N and the unspoken connection that bound them together. He longed to reach out and tell her the truth, to lay bare his own feelings and risk it all for the chance at something more.

But fear held him back, the fear of rejection, of ruining their friendship, of losing the one person who had come to mean everything to him. And so, he remained silent, his words caught in the tangled web of his own insecurities.

As they sat together in the hushed stillness of the moment, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of longing wash over her. She wished she could read Rutger's thoughts, decipher the silent language of his heart and know once and for all where they stood.

As Rutger found himself unable to shake Y/N from his thoughts, her presence lingering in his mind like a haunting melody, he knew he couldn't ignore the turmoil that churned within him any longer. With each passing moment, the weight of his unspoken feelings grew heavier, threatening to consume him from the inside out.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Unable to resist the pull any longer, Rutger made his way to Y/N's apartment, his heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. He knew that this was a risk, that laying his heart bare could change everything between them, but he also knew that he couldn't continue to live in the shadow of his own fears.

As he stood outside her door, his hand poised to knock, Rutger's mind raced with a thousand different scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last. What if she didn't feel the same way? What if he ruined their friendship? What if...

But before he could spiral any further into his own doubts, Rutger took a deep breath and knocked on the door, his heart hammering in his chest as he waited for her to answer.

When Y/N opened the door, her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Rutger standing on her doorstep. "Rutger, what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

Rutger took a step forward, his gaze locked on hers with a fierce intensity. "I couldn't stop thinking about you," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "I couldn't get you out of my head, and I realized... I couldn't keep it in anymore."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat at his confession, her heart racing with a mixture of disbelief and hope. "Rutger..." she began, her voice barely a whisper as she struggled to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her veins.

But before she could speak, Rutger reached out and gently cupped her face in his hands, his touch sending sparks of electricity dancing across her skin. "I know this might be a lot to take in," he said, his voice soft but urgent. "But I had to tell you... I care about you, Y/N. More than I've ever cared about anyone."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat at his confession, her pulse quickening with a mixture of disbelief and longing. She searched his eyes, the depths of their blue depths mirroring her own uncertainty, yet tinged with a vulnerability that laid bare the rawness of his emotions.

Rutger took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to reveal. "It wasn't just today," he confessed, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "It's been building for a while now... ever since Michigan."

Y/N's brow furrowed in confusion, her mind racing to make sense of his words. "Michigan?" she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper as she urged him to continue.

Rutger nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he recalled the memories that lingered in the recesses of his mind. "After we won the game," he began, his voice laced with a hint of nostalgia, "and we scored that goal together... something changed for me."

He paused, his gaze searching hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. "In that moment, with the crowd cheering and our teammates surrounding us, I realized that I was falling for you, Y/N. Hard."

As Rutger's words hung in the air, time seemed to stand still, the weight of his confession settling between them like a delicate veil. Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding in her chest as she processed the depth of his feelings.

"That day, I felt like it was just us against the world," Rutger continued, his voice filled with a quiet conviction that sent a shiver down Y/N's spine. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I love you."

Y/N's eyes widened in astonishment at his words, her heart soaring with a newfound sense of hope and joy. She searched his gaze, the depths of his blue eyes reflecting a vulnerability that mirrored her own, yet tinged with an intensity that made her pulse quicken with anticipation.

"Rutger..." she whispered, her voice barely above a breath as she struggled to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her veins. "I... I don't know what to say."

But Rutger reached out and gently brushed a tear from her cheek, his touch sending sparks of electricity dancing across her skin. "You don't have to say anything," he said, his voice soft but urgent. "I just needed you to know how I feel."

In that moment, surrounded by the quiet intimacy of her apartment, Y/N knew that she had a choice to make – to embrace the love that pulsed between them, or to retreat back into the safety of her own fears. And as she looked into Rutger's eyes, shining with a vulnerability that mirrored her own, she knew that she couldn't ignore the longing that pulsed between them any longer.

With a trembling breath, she reached out and took Rutger's hand in hers, her fingers intertwining with his in a silent promise of what could be. "I love you too, Rutger," she whispered, her voice filled with a depth of feeling that she hadn't known was possible. "More than you'll ever know."

As their hands intertwined, a wave of electricity surged between them, igniting a spark that had been smoldering beneath the surface for far too long. With their hearts pounding in unison, Y/N leaned in slowly, her eyes fluttering closed as she closed the distance between them.

Rutger's breath hitched as he felt her soft lips press against his, a surge of warmth flooding through him as their kiss deepened. In that moment, the world fell away, leaving only the two of them wrapped in the cocoon of their shared emotions.

Their kiss was tender yet passionate, a silent affirmation of the love that had blossomed between them. With each brush of their lips, they poured their hearts into the moment, savoring the sweetness of their newfound connection.

And as they finally pulled away, their foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath, Y/N knew that this was just the beginning of their journey together. With Rutger by her side, she felt invincible, ready to face whatever challenges the future might hold.

"I love you," Rutger whispered, his voice filled with a depth of emotion that mirrored her own.

"I love you too," Y/N replied, her heart overflowing with happiness as she pressed another gentle kiss to his lips.

#rutger mcgroarty imagine #rutger mcgroarty #rutger mcgroarty x reader #hockey #nhl x reader #umich hockey #hockey imagine #nhl players #nhl hockey #nhl

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stealthily--nobody · 1 month

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Proud of you

Summary: Curufinwe can never be good enough. Not even when he tries.

Also on AO3

Curufinwe was not crying. He was definitely, absolutely not crying one bit. And if there was leakage from his eyeballs, they were not tears. And if you absolutely had to classify them as tears, it was not because he was sad.

Because he wasn’t sad. Nor was he in any way heartbroken.

It was just that, well, he was disappointed. In himself most of all.

Father had always stressed the importance of excellence and self-learning and pushing yourself past your limit. Curufinwe wanted to be just like Father. He had always tried to live up to those ideals. He made sure to wake up before the sun every morning to stoke the forge fires, stayed up long past story time writing down his next designs and fell asleep imagining hammer strikes.

He was doing his best. And yet, it wasn’t enough.

Today was supposed to have been the culmination of his hard work, of his multiple revisions of his designs and proof of his efforts. Father had taken the entire family to visit their grandfather at Aule’s forges and Curufinwe had prepared himself to present his newest design to not only his father but also his grandfather, the best and second-best smiths of all the Noldor and most of Aman.

He’d made the entire design in secrecy and had entered it into a local competition under a false name waiting for his father and grandfather to choose it as the winner before revealing himself. He could imagine the proud smile his father would give him and the exuberant congratulations his grandfather would heap on his skill. It would be everything he ever dreamed of.

Only, it hadn’t won.

He had somehow lost to one of his grandfather’s newest apprentices who’d only touched a forge hammer for the first time half a decade ago. Curufinwe had been in a forge his whole life and had been working at his father’s side for the last 20 years.

How was this possible? His design was superb with its triangular interlocking structure and steel folded carefully in the hottest fires he could find. He had stress-tested the model bridge himself and it hadn’t experienced any stress when he put his whole weight on it or when he tricked Huan into sitting on it.

So why had he not placed at all in the competition and instead told that his design didn’t enhance the beauty of Valinor?

What about it wasn’t perfect?

But Father and Grandfather weren’t supposed to know that he entered (he couldn’t tell them since he messed up), so he couldn’t be sad or mad or say anything about the competition. He had kept himself very presentable all through dinner and then through grandfather’s stories. It was only after Grandfather had disappeared to do something for Aule that Curufinwe was able to wander off on his own out of their grandfather’s home and into the forest surrounding it.

He wasn’t crying. He was just a little mad. He just wanted to be alone for a little bit and brood over how unfair the ruling had been.

And he needed to bury his bridge before Father or Grandfather found it and found out that he’d been the one to build it.

And so, the forest. He had found the perfect spot, close enough to the house that Mother could call for him but far enough away that no one would see him dig the hole.

Each shovel felt bitter and he tore at the ground with vigour. Maybe too much vigour that he didn’t realize he’d been found until he heard Tyelko speak right in his ear, “I didn’t know you entered the competition.”

Curufinwe turned to stare at his brother and kick him in the shins. “I didn’t. I’m just getting rid of some junk that I don’t need anymore.”

“By burying it in the forest?” Tyelko rose back to his full height so he could tower over Curufinwe and only smirked when Curufinwe glowered. “I’m pretty sure I saw that bridge at the competition. It was so ugly.”

That was it. Curufinwe tossed the shovel to the ground and threw himself at his brother, punching and tugging and kicking. “It’s not ugly! It’s structurally sound and capable of supporting 10 times any other design presented. The triangles make it stronger. It’s perfect and functional and the judges are stupid for picking the low-lying suspension over this one.”

“Let me see it then!” Tyelko pushed Curufinwe off of him with strength far exceeding Curufinwe’s child body and snatched the bridge from the half-dug hole. He then held the bridge in two hands before cracking it over his knee.

Or he tried to. The bridge held and Tyelko dropped it as he swore. Curufinwe kicked Tyelko for good measure and plucked the structurally sound bridge back up.

“You weren’t kidding about it being strong,” Tyelko moaned even as he rolled back to his feet. “That’s impressive Curvo.”

“Father and Grandfather didn’t think so,” Curufinwe muttered as he returned to his hole.

“Hey,” Tyelko pushed his head until Curufinwe was staring up at Tyelko's mud-stained silver locks. “It’s impressive. Even if Father doesn’t see it, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be proud of your work.”

That made no sense to Curufinwe. “Father is the greatest smith ever. If he doesn’t think it's good then it isn’t.”

Tyelko sighed in a way very reminiscent of Maitimo and pulled Curufinwe’s hair until he was sitting beside his brother. “Father is not all-knowing. I’m certain he didn’t even think to test the prototype’s strength. If he knew you’d made it, I’m sure he would be proud of you.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Curufinwe argued, “Father says he’s proud of us when we do anything. He was proud of Maitimo when he started working in Tirion and when Makalaure composed that awful ballad and when Carnistir made that awful tapestry in pastels and when you killed your first deer. He’s not really proud of the work. He just says he is!”

Curufinwe was panting and kicking at the ground. It was only after that he realized his words and looked up at his brother with guilt boiling in his gut. But Tyelko didn’t look too mad and instead leaned back against a tree and hummed. “He is proud. He’s proud because he’s our father and he’s proud of all our achievements, even yours.”

Curufinwe didn’t agree. What was the point of Father being proud of Curufinwe’s project just because he made it? Did that not mean he could be awful at it and Father would still pretend he liked Curufinwe’s work? He wanted to be recognized and praised for his skill, not for being Father’s son. He worked hard and he was good at what he did. Why could Father not see past his own bias and just appreciate Curufinwe’s work?!

Tyelko looked at him once more with an inscrutable look before he ruffled Curufinwe’s hair and told him again, “Father would be proud. I’m proud of you, squirt. You put a lot of work into this project and you should be proud of your work.”

“Why. It doesn’t matter, does it?” Curufinwe snapped, parroting the feedback, “This is Valinor. No one cares about structural stability. Only ever how beautiful the building is.”

“It’ll have its uses one day,” Tyelko promised him, “And until then, remember, I’ll always be proud of everything you do. I promise.”

#curufin #celegorm #silmarillion #c+c week 2024

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quinn-of-aebradore · 2 months

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Since I've seen some folks being interested and the fic itself is still a work-in-progress, I thought I'd give a little introduction for the Essek and Caleb in my Candela Obscura AU! The above are their designs as I put together in Hero Forge and of course, here is them drawn by Maddy!

Essek in this world is an occultist who was raised in a very devout Ascendancy worshipping family in Briar Green. While he attended Briar Bank College, he was contacted by EONS and began doing work for them. As that connection went on its course and eventually came to a disastrous ending, Candela made contact with him as a way of damage control, with Lightkeeper Yussa Errenis taking him in as a ward, sort of, which led to Essek meeting—and eventually joining—the Circle of the Nein. He is currently retired from field work and serves as Lightkeeper to the Circle of Pearl.

Caleb, on the other hand, was born outside Newfaire in Tottergrass but grew up in South Soffit after his family lost their farm and moved to the city to find work. In his teens, he was offered an internship at EONS and spent time assisting in their labs in more ways than one, leading to his first exposure to The Flare and bleed. While on track to receiving a scholarship to Briar Bank College, he suffered a breakdown—the circumstances of which EONS has burned from the record and even Candela is unsure of—and spent several years in Greyslate. Whilst a Circle was in process of an investigation at the Sanatorium, Caleb escaped and soon found his way to Candela, becoming part of the Circle of the Nein as a professor soon after. He is currently retired from field work and serves as Lightkeeper to the Circle of Amber.

The fic I'm currently working on takes place after their retirements, though I have plenty of ideas about the events before that and of their backstories that I may turn into their own fics down the road. Which is why certain details are omitted here. If I remember to, I'll maybe post a snippet for WIP Wednesday this week :3

#shadowgast candela au #quinn writes things #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #shadowgast

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uptoolateart · 11 months

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Hey, hey, hey - time for a Gabriel analysis!

So. After we learned that Gabriel Agreste wasn't his original name, my mind jumped to Andre Bourgeois, who also once had a different name. In keeping with the themes of the show, we are seeing that secret identities don't always come with masks and comic book names.

We had a hint of Gabriel's secret past in Psycomedian, when Harry visited and alluded to his Gabi days. How, oh how could the Gabriel Agreste we all know have ever been friends with someone like Harry Clown? This is only possible if he was once a different sort of person.

We had further clues in Gabriel's vision of the past, in the time burrow in Evolution - and in Emilie's video messages left for Nathalie, and the photographs of Gabriel, Emilie and Nathalie on some expedition, seen in Passion - and in Amelie's accusation that Gabriel has changed, in Emotion.

Adrien is also aware his father has changed with time, demonstrated when he tells Gabriel that Emilie once said they came from different backgrounds.

The photos shown in Revelation finally gave concrete evidence that Gabriel used to have an adventurous spirit and he used to smile. He was fun...but something changed...and I don't think it was just Emilie's death that caused the personality shift. Based on casual comments Adrien has made throughout the series, his father has been strange for years.

Gabriel tells Adrien that he and Kagami are 'of the same design' - and we know he means this literally. But taking it as a metaphor...for two seasons I've wondered what Emilie's parents were like. We can infer that she comes from a wealthy, 'important' family. Maybe Gabriel struggled to fit in and win the approval of his in-laws. Maybe he never felt good enough. When he tells Adrien things like, 'You're clinging to Marinette because her mediocrity lets you shine more,' perhaps someone once talked like that about him. With that kind of background, it would be unsurprising that he decided to try to forge a new identity.

And let's remember that Gabriel is a designer. His whole empire is founded on inventing personae. Even beyond the sentimonster aspect, he tells Marinette that he designed the image the world holds of his son. Everything is his invention. That speech in Pretension proved just how deep his God complex runs - he fully believes he has made the world in his image. Even the episode title - Pretension - smacks of the image he is presenting to the world in lieu of truth.

At this point, what we're seeing is a 'new money' stereotype - a self-made man who now spurns those who remind him of where he came from. It's one of the most shameful things about him. No matter how much fame and money you get...you can't forget your roots, people. Maybe that's easy for me to say because I'm not rich or famous. But I just can't imagine turning my back on my own origin story. It's what makes you who you are. Gabriel clearly didn't want to be that person anymore...and that's sad.

What's also fascinating is that, if we zoom in on those pictures Nathalie took in Revelation, we see that once upon a time, Gabriel - Gabi Grassette - was a punk. Let's take a moment to appreciate the spiked hair, makeup, leather jacket, ripped jeans, and dog collar - not to mention that smirk. And far from being ashamed of his work with Harry Clown as a human frites (who, by the way, reminds me so much of Mr Banana), he was smiling about it. Man, he loved it. Contrast that with Gabriel in Party Crasher - 'JOY.... What's going on in my HOUSE!?'

If it were at all possible for the old Gabi to meet Cat Noir, I can imagine him loving Cat's costume. On that note, I can't help but compare that dog collar with Cat's bell. I've said before that I see the bell as a symbol of Cat being domesticated and under control. Gabi probably saw his dog collar more as a rebellion, but maybe it too is a symbol of how he once felt controlled by someone.

The thing is...the punk movement was all about anti-establishment anti-authoritarianism. Today, Gabriel is the establishment he once rebelled against. It makes me think of John Lydon of the Sex Pistols turning Conservative and advertising butter. Musicians like Donovan - not a punk, but in a similar category, as a 1960s hippie - are rare for maintaining that same spirit all through their lives.

Gabriel is a 'sell-out'. He gave up that spirit and became someone unrecognisable. Those photos demonstrate that Emilie isn't the only body buried in a 'basement' in the Agreste mansion. There is a different person buried under the cold veneer that is Gabriel - a person Nathalie probably misses. I expect that's why she's stuck with him all this time, despite her better instincts. Something tells me Gabi would've made a better father.

The irony is that Adrien's moments of rebellion are probably one of the few things he has in common with his father, if we look far enough back in Gabriel's past. That, and their temper - and randomly breaking into eccentric dance and song. Gabi might have appreciated Adrien more for standing true to his principles. Maybe Adrien sometimes reminds Gabriel of himself and he can't stand it - can't stand thinking of what he's lost along the way.

I believe Gabriel exists in a perpetual state of regret. Part of him probably misses Gabi, too. After all, Gabi got Emilie. What has Gabriel got? Wealth, sure, but Emilie's dead, Adrien all but hates him, Nathalie's wasting away, and Gabriel himself has only weeks to live.

If you think about it, Gabriel's whole quest has been about getting a do-over. He wants a second chance with Emilie - a second chance for Nathalie - a second chance at his own life. He then tells Adrien that his greatest wish is to try to reconnect with him...because he knows he doesn't have much time left with his son. Even then, though, his selfishness prevails. (Psst, Gabi...you can't make up for years of terrible parenting with banana pancakes.)

Thinking of the snake miraculous, the second chance lets you know what's going to happen, enabling you to make better decisions the next time around. In other words: it's about learning from your mistakes. Gabriel never learns, and it is his refusal to accept destiny and his own human fallibility that is causing his disintegration.

The more Gabriel necrotises, the more we can see this as his 'sins' catching up with him. He doesn't seem to grasp that all the blackness devouring him is, in a way, the blackness of his own heart. Even if he erases the whole world, he can't erase his deeds. If he managed to get his Wish and bring Emilie back, she would be horrified. She'd wonder where her Gabi went.

Gabriel is proof that 'evolution' isn't always positive. He reinvented himself once, and now, because it didn't go the way he wanted, he's trying to reinvent things again. Tomoe also hints at a belief that the solution to her problems is to make the world anew - to get a second chance. Felix tries this, too, when he creates the red moon to wipe out all people except his select group.

But Felix does learn - Ladybug helps him see that even if you erase all the people causing you so much grief...you still have to deal with that pain. What Gabriel fails to see is that - like Cat Blanc on the roof, all alone without his lady - destroying your witnesses won't remove the witness in your own heart.

Even if Gabriel wiped everyone else's memory of his crimes, he would still know what he'd done. And when you cross those kinds of lines, you can never go back to who you once were.

Please no post-Revelation spoilers in the comments :)

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eleanork-28 · 1 month

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Post s3e6 what happens now?

I am begining to write an 'after' fic which has brought up a lot of questions and speculation that I'd like to share. Yes willmon is endgame but also where do they go from here?

Class

Money (what are the Erikssons doing with their money from August?)

The rift between Wille’s elitist upbringing and Simon’s economical and political beliefs

Wille needs to learn and figure out what he wants his relationship with politics and money to be

Abdication

Wille is giving up the crown but he now has to go through that process

Official meetings

What is his new title going to be

What money does he have not has Crown Prince

The official statement of abdication and handing the duty to August

Figuring out the PR strategy for this as well

Wille isn’t free automatically he is going to price for a little while longer while they introduce August more prominently to the public so that the crown isn’t handed off to seemingly a stranger

They also have to figure out a way to make sure it is clear that this is a choice Wille made for himself rather than because of his very publicised relationship

Making sure there won’t be speculation that he is leaving voluntarily because the Swedish monarchy doesn’t want a queer monarchy because that would be a media shitstorm

School

Where is Wille going to school? And Simon?

Even with abdication he is still a part of the Swedish aristocracy would he go to another posh school?

I think not with everything that happened at Hilerska but its also the thing he knows, so how does he figure that out?

Where does Simon go? He wouldn’t want to go to another rich kid school

Will they go to school together?

If so what interest will their classmates take in them, how would they maintain their privacy

Even apart what would their privacy look like

What would their relationship look like if they do decide to not go to school together?

Same questions for Felice and Sara because they also have to go to school they are all children and education is very important lol

Familial relations

Wille and his parents need to repair their relationship

Do Simon and Sara start working on a better relationship Micke?

I want Wille to get to meet Micke I think that interaction would be great

Public relations

Yes they are free but sadly the public doesn’t entirely care

Luckily on an international scale the Swedish monarchy doesn’t hold much attention but maybe that has changed since Wille’s scandals and then open queer relationship? This is never addressed in the show

But amongst Swedes especially after abdication people will have a vested interest

Think Harry and Megan (obvs the UK royals are a much bigger scale but the point stands)

Like people still really care what they're up to, and Megan and Simon have those similar experiences of being a poc partner of a european royal family member, the harassment doesn’t suddenly stop once you've left the direct limelight of royal life

Platonic relationships

What is Wille’s relationship with Rosh and Ayub?

They have witnessed every thing that Simon has gone through because of his relationship with Wille and now they are back together again

They do respect him because of his choice to leave the monarchy, they are maybe not even surprised because they did witness the “I could be free with you” speech

But do they trust him?

On that note does Linda? She definitely cares for Wille but she also knows how this has affected her son.

Does Wille have to prove his intentions and himself?

Can he Rosh and Ayub truly form a friendship? How will that happen

Simon, Wille, Sara, and Felice have forged their own kind of found family through shared traumas and love for one another, how to Rosh and Ayub fit into that new dynamic? Will there be conflict because of this?

What does a friend group consisting of all of them look like?

Other than mega gay

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pjoxreader · 1 year

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PJO Characters Favorite Place For a Date

Leo Valdez

-Anywhere, literally take him anywhere other than the forges and he’s happy. He’d get too distracted if you did go to the forges.

-But if he had to pick somewhere it’d be the Argo ll, he spent so much blood, sweat and tears on it that it’s his pride and joy.

-It’d be just the two of you looking up at the stars enjoying the night sky, talking about how your days went.

-He’ll try to be smooth and put an arm around you but you end up flustering him by contently cuddling right up into him.

-You can’t really help it, he’s like a warm heater and seeing him go bright red was also very cute.

-He may have to pat out a few flames with an embarrassed apology.

Frank Zhang

-New Rome, it’s somewhere he’s familiar with and knows that it’s safe so he doesn’t have to worry.

-It’d just be the two of you enjoying a walk, seeing the different sights and enjoying the moment.

-Once the sun starts to set you’ll both get a hot coco to keep warm. He wishes this moment could last a lifetime. Even with you teasing him about his lactose intolerance.

-Maybe one day you’ll both be able to grow old here and enjoy a peaceful life.

-The thought makes him blush bright red, trying to hide it in his hot coco heat.

-You of course notice and can’t help but tease the big guy.

Percy Jackson

-Being home with his mother, he’s always been big on family and it’s very important to him that the two of you get along.

-Which you do, swimmingly of course. You don’t mind going to visit Sally, in fact you look forward to it.

-Don’t let the food coloring throw you off, her cooking is amazing and she’s always so kind to you.

-It’s like she’s your mom as well, of course you don’t know if Percy was ready to take that step yet, but you felt at home already.

-Sally would even give the two of you some space, letting you both cuddle up together and watch a movie after dinner.

-Sure this may be the thirtieth time you’ve seen the little mermaid, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

Annabeth Chase

-Camp Jupiter, she loves to take in all the architecture work.

-She could easily talk for hours on end about all the different structures, honestly you have no idea what she’s talking about most of the time but you’re just happy to be there with her.

-You do have to admit some of the buildings are impressive to even you though.

-You love to listen to her ramble excitedly seeing her get so focused on her passion was amazing.

-You’d both get some hot coco when the sun starts to set and much to Annabeth's disappointment have to head home.

-She promises you’ll be able to pick the next date but you couldn’t imagine a better date.

Hazel Levesque

-She loves to visit the Camp Half-Blood stables, she hardly ever gets to see Reyna’s pegasus at Camp Jupiter so coming to care for them here is relaxing.

-Sure it might not be a normal date, willingly offering the two of your’s time to well, caring for pegasi but seeing Hazel so content and relaxed while she worked was worth it.

-Sometimes you wish you could talk to horses to help with your skill, because you really weren’t the best.

-You had tried to show Hazel how you got a saddle attached all by yourself but as you made your way onto it the pegasi the horse darted and off came the saddle and you.

-Thankfully, you had landed in the mud and just cleaned the stable but you couldn’t help the groan of embarrassment.

-She did give you a little kiss on the cheek, after laughing at you of course but you considered it a win in your book.

Jason Grace

-The climbing wall in Camp Half-Blood

-He found it a good challenge and not only that he got to keep up his training while being with you.

-You two would have plenty of competitions to see who could scale it the fastest.

-You would never admit it to Jason but you did plenty of training in your down time to try and beat him.

-You were competitive ok? Plus seeing his proud grin seeing you scale that wall like a monkey was like a drug.

-You found your inspiration for training that’s for sure.

Piper Mclean

-The two of you would just enjoy a nice summer evening, picking strawberries in the field of Camp Half-Blood.

-The sun setting leaves you both in a perfect glow, you both enjoying the warm air.

-You know Piper was a daughter of Aphrodite but she had a natural beauty to her that made your heart throb.

-She catches you staring and laughs seeing how you get all flustered.

-She’ll take your hand gently to reassure you, as you glance back you can see her lean in.

-Stealing your courage you lean in as well, enjoying your kiss as the sun sets.

~Masterlist & Rules~

Like my writing? Please consider sending me a Ko-fi! ☕

#pjo x reader #leo valdez x reader #frank zhang x reader #percy jackson x reader #annabeth chase x reader #hazel levesque x reader #jason grace x reader #piper mclean x reader #fluff #x reader

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toms-cherry-trees · 7 months

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Don't Hold My Hand (I'll Break Your Heart) || Tommy Shelby x Fem OC ~ Prologue

Summary: How can one recover from having their life swept out from under theit feet? When a promising future becomes lost, shattered by a past that should have remained long forgotten? Is care and love enough to undo the damage, or will it just be a sweet balm to give a brief respite of the pain before the unavoidable end?

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Vague description of war injuries

Author's note: This fic is loosely based on Me Before You, keyword loosely. I don't have many information on what voluntary nurses did after the war nor how did they treat those with long term injuries, but I am working as best as I can with what I know so do not expect this to be entirely historically accurate. There also may be some ableism akin to the period but it will be kept minimal

This is also my first time writing Tommy with an OC! Say hello to Charlotte Florence Tindall everyone! She is an OC I've had for 3 years based in Lady Sybill Crawley from Downton Abbey

Next part 》

The gates to Arrow House stood tall and imponent amidst a thick grove in the depths of Warwickshire. The estate’s name had been forged in sturdy steel and perched high above the iron and brick archways, kept in pristine condition despite the long exposure to the elements, with the family’s proud surname hanging just below in equal condition. Charlotte could easily imagine an unfortunate servant sent there on the daily with a ladder and some polisher, his only duty being to keep the family’s name spotless, literally.

The journey towards the manor was brief and silent, the bumps in the road barely noticeable in the luxurious car that had picked her up from the train station, with leather seats and a smoothly purring engine. She knew little about the brands and commodities money could afford, but the vehicle, driven by a smartly dressed man in a crisp suit, surely cost more than all the money she had ever owned or would ever own in her life as a former VAD nurse.

The Great War had taken many opportunities, but in its wake, it had unexpectedly given some. Hordes of girls and women turned to their nearest recruitment offices or hospitals to receive express courses in nursing and home care, to serve their country side by side with the men, restoring to health those who had been wounded in combat and caring for those who had given it all until they had no more left. Field hospitals, Red Cross stations, local hospitals, and convalescence homes; all packed to the gunnels with soldiers who had been wounded, scarred, maimed, and traumatised beyond repair.

But the war had come to an end. The volunteers, the ones who had risen to the task, scattered and went back to their lives. And so did Charlotte. Only to realise the long battle had just begun. The men would not recover only because the conflict had concluded. Many remained who would need lifetime care and attention that not many families were trained or willing to provide. The nurses returned, offering their skills in little advertisements printed in newspapers or glued to shop windows.

She had it easy, in a way. Early in 1919, a man she cared for harnessed her in to be his private nurse, but that lasted until he came forward with less honourable propositions. Then came an elderly colonel, whom she watched over up until his last breath. And most recently, a strapping young sergeant, whose fiance, who didn’t take kindly to having a young woman dress and wash him, nearly chased Charlotte off.

She quickly grew disenchanted with the job, having found mostly trouble and no small amount of tears in it. Perhaps she was not made for this as she originally thought. Maybe she would do better as a cashier or cook; she could seek a post as a secretary or a board girl in the telephone company. She had learned enough to defend herself as a seamstress. Anything to keep her clothed and fed while sparing her the suffering.

But one day, a letter arrived at her door. A letter sent by the treasurer of Shelby Company Limited. The infamous Polly Gray. A shiver ran down her spine when she read the name in elegant calligraphy over expensive paper, and a part of her feared the envelope would burst in her hands like a hand grenade.

Who in Birmingham didn’t know about the Shelbys? In the slums and the rookeries, people didn’t pray to God; they prayed to the Peaky Blinders. They owned the factories, the distilleries, the pubs, and the institutions. They owned the police. They owned the very streets the people walked every day, their houses, their money, and their lives if they so wished.

And now, it seemed they wished to own Charlotte.

Mrs. Gray convened her for an interview at their estate since they requested her services as a nurse to care for a war veteran. The letter provided little more information other that they offered generous pay, accommodations, and a day off of her choosing. A preset date and time had been included, next to a train ticket to get her to the station closest to them.

Charlotte could not tell exactly what drove her to actually assist. Perhaps she wished to know how and why they found her. Maybe the lure of a salary twice the average had lured her in. Or the morbid curiosity of meeting this soldier; as far as she knew, the Shelby brothers didn’t need anything from anyone.

When she arrived at the manor, a stern-faced woman took her coat and bag. She barely had time to admire her surroundings before the maid led her towards a drawing room. Dark wood in panels and furniture, crimson wallpaper, two walls entirely lined with bookshelves filled with books of all sorts, some in pristine condition and others worn and falling apart.

Amidst all, in a settee of black velvet, sat Polly Gray. Pearls hugged her neck, hung from her ears, and adorned the front of her silver frock. Bracelets and rings decorated her fingers. Masses of papers covered the tea table before her, which she methodically separated into neat piles. By her side were a glass of whiskey and a cigarette with crimson stains, the ashtray filled to the brim. The face powder could not conceal entirely the dark circles underneath her eyes, and some fine streaks of grey contrasted against her golden chocolate curls. A woman not quite old in age but worn out tremendously by troubles and tribulations Charlotte didn’t know.

She cleared her throat, since she appeared so immersed in her paperwork she didn’t notice her.

“Mrs Gray”

“Sit” The harshness of the command contrasted with the undeniable softness of her voice, edged with barely contained nervousness, as if she stood ready to collapse. Hurriedly, she collected the scattered papers and dropped them in a pile at her side, just in time for the stern maid to place before them a tea tray, all polished silverware and hand-painted porcelain. Mrs. Gray and her spent several minutes in fraught silence, stirring a cup of fragrant tea with two sugars, while Mrs. Gray added the last of her whiskey glass into her cup. Charlotte waited for her to speak first, but the woman seemed to be in no rush, which only added to her own anxiousness.

“Mrs. Gray. You called me here. You sent me a train ticket and a driver to pick me up. Why?”

She stirred her beverage methodically, making five perfect clockwise rounds with the spoon and gently tapping it on the rim twice. Staring into the steaming liquid while she pondered her words.

“You are a nurse, aren’t you? You have field experience, and have also have cared for disabled soldiers." Not an interrogation, merely a statement. She didn’t question her about how she knew that. If she so desired, she could track down her school teacher and ask her how well she did in maths when she was nine. But that still didn’t provide her with answers.

“I am. I have worked with several patients, and if you wish, I can provide referen-”

She cut Charlotte off with a wave of her hand. “I already have your references. I spoke with your previous employers myself.”

A cold shiver spread down her legs. What could she possibly require from her that she take such an effort to map out her past? If she had that information, it meant they had checked her background and that of her family and close friends. And she assumed she had passed whatever unspoken test they carried on her; otherwise, they wouldn’t have brought her straight into their den.

But again, why?

Mrs. Gray put down the teacup and finally looked at the other woman’s face for the first time since her arrival. Her eyes were large, deep in colour, and full of wisdom and caution.

“Do you have any experience with men with reduced mobility? That is, men who are wheelchair-bound?”

That treaded closer to her area of expertise. For a brief moment, she feared she would be taken to a dimly lit basement where she’d be asked to save the life of a grievously wounded man with a gun pressed to her temple. Or maybe she just read far too many crime novels.

“I do. I worked with many men who had lost their ability to walk, either by spinal injury or loss of limb."Before the following pause prolonged for too long, Charlotte pressed the matter further. “Is that why you called me? You have a veteran who can’t walk."She spoke the words carefully, since she had learned through trial and error that not all people reacted well when she spoke too harshly about the state of the patient, so she tiptoed around the subject with carefully chosen words.

Suddenly she stood, setting the cup aside with such carelessness that the tea splattered everywhere, staining the lace covering the side table.

“Come with me." She headed towards the hallway, not even looking to see if Charlotte followed. She barely had time to steal one more sip before rushing behind her, straining her legs to keep up with her pace. She led her through a back door and out of the house, towards a stone and gravel backyard, smelling of horses and petrol. Other than a few hounds and a lone gardener trimming some bushes, no one else was around. No one listening but Lottie.

“My three nephews enlisted around the same time in 1914. And I will forever be grateful that the three of them made it home alive." She walked with her hands behind her back like a man. With that ramrod straight posture and her puffed chest, she could put a general to shame. It certainly worked to intimidate her, and she walked a step behind her, feeling unworthy of keeping up her pace.

“John and Arthur came back okay. Or as okay as men could after the things they saw and did” John and Arthur. Both names rang a bell, but she hadn’t seen them personally. They acted as henchmen more than businessmen, terrorising the factories and the foremen in their factories. Legend has it that a foreman in a Sparkbrook steelworks bought a house with bribes for tossing bodies in the furnace.

“But Tommy” She continued, bringing her attention back to the present. “He was a tunneller. There was a collapse near the end of everything. I don’t know the entire story, but the tunnel caved in on them. Out of fifteen boys, only five were dug out."She fell silent for a moment and made the sign of the cross. Pain wrung Charlotte’s heart, but she didn’t allow it to settle. She had quickly learned to push pain into the back of her mind during the war. If she allowed herself to feel it, she’d collapse like wet clay.

“They brought him back on a stretcher. I never thought a person could be more blue than white and have more broken bones than whole ones. He spent the rest of the war in a hospital room and remained there for a good part of the next year. Every doctor expected him to just die in his sleep, but he refused to give up. He made a full recovery and came home as if nothing happened.”

The tone of her words and Lottie’s very presence there indicated that not all had gone well.

“He took over his duties in the business and married a girl he fancied. They even had a son. No indicator that something could be wrong". Her pace had slowed, allowing her to catch up, now walking by her side, not wanting to miss a word. She had left the backyard behind and now moved into bare grass; from the entrance, she hadn’t quite grasped how far the estate stretched. It could easily and comfortably house two manors equal in size with their own stables and gardens.

“He suddenly started complaining of pain in his legs. Stiffness, soreness, especially in the mornings” She recognised the symptoms immediately but chose to remain silent while she spoke. “Soon he had trouble walking; sometimes his knees gave out and he just fell. He resisted the cane as much as he could, but in time he could not remain upright without it for long.

“We sought a doctor in London. He said a disc in his back had cracked in the accident. The fracture had been stable, but as time passed, it worsened and began to collapse and compress his spine."She waved her hand dismissively. “I didn’t understand any of the technical words, but the doctor said the injury would progress. The spine would be compressed more and more until he lost all use of his legs.

Even though Charlotte didn’t see her expression, she noticed in her words the sorrow she felt for her nephew. And she didn’t blame her. To have him delivered home in pieces, seeing him go through a miraculous recovery only for this to happen. His life robbed from him, one sliver at a time, seeing his own body fail him day by day.

Mrs. Gray exhaled slowly, as if regaining her composure. “Ever since he got the diagnosis, he changed. He became irritable and wrathful. He refused to be seen with the cane; whenever he met people in the office, he leant into something or sat down. Then he refused to be seen altogether and handled business locked in his office." She pulled out a cigar case from her dress pocket and offered her one, which Lottie kindly refused.

“When he no longer could manage stairs easily, he started working from home. He seldom saw people; only his brothers and I could visit him” The smoke left her mouth with each word, since she consumed the cigarette so desperately she barely had time to breathe out. She thought that she didn’t need all that information to do her job, but she didn’t interrupt her. She sounded like she needed someone to listen to her at least once.

She finished the first cigarette and quickly lit a second with the leftover stub. Her crimson coated lips parted, as if she wanted to say something else but chose not to at the last second. Instead her features contorted in a snarl briefly, lips pursed like she tasted something bitter, and then shook her head and regained her composure.

“He bought this manor to be away from everyone. He wanted to live alone, with only the staff to help him, but I couldn’t leave him alone in that state, even if he refused to be helped. He may be an arse, but he is still my nephew” Lottie snickered at her last statement, disguising the inappropriate sound as a cough.

“I realise I could not handle it alone. There is just so much to be done, and many things he would never let me do for him” Another lit cigarette, consumed as frantically as the first two. “I tried to hire him a personal maid but she had the talent of a doornail”

“That’s why you sought me?” It made sense now. A common maid couldn’t handle his injuries and his needs like she could.

A bitter laugh fell from her lips “I sought a nurse, yes. And another one. And another one” She didn’t pay heed to her concerned expression “He never got along with any of them. Despised them, I dare say. Tommy cannot stomach being stared at or treated with pity” She made a mental note of that for her future work, that is, if she survived the day “Not all the pay raises and benefits in the world convinced them to stay long. I offered to pay the last one’s bank loans if she reconsidered her resignation, but that only held her in for another three weeks”

Charlotte’s resolution to take the job faltered by the minute. Why would she want to care for a man who seemed hellbent in making his caretakers miserable? Sure, his situation was nothing short of horrible, but did that really give him the right to spread his venom to those who tried to do good by him? And most importantly, did she really want to put herself through that? The pay was the best she had ever been offered, but would the money be worth it?

Suddenly Mrs. Gray gripped the younger woman’s hand, so tightly her fingers ached. She should have shaken her off, but the desperation in her eyes deterred her from it. She looked like a woman standing on the edge of the abyss, hanging only from her grasp.

“I personally collected your reference letters. All of your previous employers spoke of your patience and your affection. Of how your softness and cheerfulness helped them. I think you are what Tommy needs. I think you are the one who can help my nephew” Her grip tightened and an involuntary mewl of pain came from her throat. She released Lottie’s hand, and instead placed a pleading touch on her bicep.

“Please give it a try. At least for a month. I know he won’t live to be an old man. And whatever life he has left, whether it is 4 years or 4 decades, I want him to find peace. Happiness, even. I want him to have a reason to wake up in the morning” She could tell she wished to say more, but had cut off her words.

With all she laid out before her, Charlotte barely resisted the temptation to grab her purse and run for her life. But something in her words, in the story she narrated for her, it pulled at her heartstrings. She had a thing for lost causes and broken things. In the worst scenario, she would walk out depressed but with enough money to start anew.

She only had one request

“Can I meet your nephew before I make my decision?”

Mrs Gray dropped her arm and pressed her lips into a thin line, eyebrows knit together in a scowl. She wanted to say no, that much she could tell. Maybe she thought she shouldn’t see Thomas until she had her signed up so she couldn’t back out. But Charlotte wouldn’t agree on anything until she spoke to him

“Of course”

Back into the house, she took her to the second floor. Lottie quickly noticed the house had been retrofitted in ways most couldn’t afford to offer Thomas a semblance of comfort. Large paintings hung in the stairway, most of them displaying a man with blue eyes and a dominant posture, always standing with his hands behind his back.

A set of double doors stood ajar towards the back of the floor. The room behind stretched almost all the length of the house, and Lottie noticed in the wall the dents where walls had been taken down to create such a large space. The furniture stood well spaced between each other to allow wide passages, enough to comfortably fit a wheelchair. Sunlight filled the alcove, coming from the many windows with the drapes drawn back. A set of glass doors led to a magnificent veranda that overlooked the estate.

Just outside, close to the balustrade, sat a black-haired man, his back turned to them. The wheelchair he sat upon was far more complex and luxurious than the ones she had in the ward. He wore a robe and slippers, as if he had just risen from bed despite being well into the afternoon.

Mrs. Gray walked out first, while she waited just under the lintel. She stood next to the man, one hand on his shoulder.

“Tommy, there is someone I want you to meet”

“No” His voice cut through the air, deep and curt. It sounded manly, and would have been pleasing to hear in other situation

“Tommy, please give her a chance, I promise-” He cut her pleading short with a smack of his fist on the wooden armrest.

“I said no! I don’t want her here. Put her in a cab and send her away” Mrs. Gray seemed to be at her wits’ end. She crouched next to him, like when one speaks to a child. She couldn’t make out the words she hissed at him through clenched teeth, but whatever she said, he didn’t like. With surprising skill he turned the wheelchair around and nearly ran Charlotte over, having barely managed to stop the chair with a heel on the floor.

The paintings did little justice to the blueness in his eyes. A vibrant blue not often seen, but filled with ice the moment they laid on her. The smart haircut had been replaced by an overgrown mane, jet black strands curling behind the ears and waving around the top. A five o clock shadow obscured the clenched jaw down to the neck. But even unkempt like that she felt the aura of haughtiness and pride bordering on arrogance emanating from him. He held her gaze for endless seconds, and not once she shied away from his cold eyes.

“Whatever it is you think you can do for me, save it for someone else. And now, get out of my home”

He wheeled past her, moving towards the main double doors. He couldn’t really go anywhere, but she figured he planned to hide somewhere until she left.

Lottie stood there, a bit dumbfounded, while Mrs. Gray returned to her side, despair plastered in her features, mixed with barely contained anger

“He is like that sometimes, but I promise you, some days are better. I will talk to him and get him to behave, and if you-”

“I can start tomorrow” She cut her off. Her jaw hung open, eyes widened as she struggled to wrap her mind around her words. Words that shocked Charlotte as much as Mrs. Gray, for she hadn’t actually allowed them out of her mouth. They just left in a blurt. But she meant them, even if she couldn’t quite tell herself why. It went beyond the money; she wanted this job. As if something invisible pushed her to stay there; as if there she’d truly find a purpose. It made no sense, but hunches and feelings rarely did

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Gray. I think I can help your nephew.”

#marsie writes #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x fem oc #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby series #tommy shelby one shot #charlotte tindall #female oc #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #don't hold my hand (i'll break your heart)

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bookgendrya · 9 months

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Rich Girl x Poor Boy

“The Hand’s daughter.” Harwin went to one knee before her. “Arya Stark, of Winterfell.”

“I’m a ‘prentice smith, and one day might be I’ll make a master armorer[…]”

Forced Proximity

“I’m taking men and boys from the city,” Yoren growled as sharp steal scraped her head.[…] Afterwards he told her from here to Winterfell she’d be Arry the orphan boy.

“I did my work, is all. Bellows and tongs and fetch and carry. I was ‘sposed to be an armorer, and one day Master Mott says I got to join the Night’s Watch,[…]”

Found Family

She make much better time on her own, Arya knew, but she could not leave them. They were her pack, her friends, the only living friends that remained to her, and if not for they would still be safe in Harrenhal, Gendry sweating at his forge and Hot Pie in the kitchens. If the Mummers catch us, I’ll tell them that I’m Ned Stark’s daughter and sister to the King in the North. I’ll command them to take me to my brother, and to do no harm to Hot Pie and Gendry. They might not believe her, though,and even if they did…Lord Bolton was her brother’s bannerman, but he frightened her all the same. I won’t let them take us, she vowed silently, […]

I Hate Everyone but You

“She’s no use,” Gendry repeated stubbornly. “Her and Hot Pie and Lommy, they’re slowing us down, and they’re going to get us killed. You’re the only one of the bunch who’s good for anything. Even if you are a girl.

“Arry, come on! Lommy’s gone, leave her if she won’t come!” Stubbornly, Arya dragged all the harder, pulling the crying girl along. Hot Pie scuttled back inside, abandoning them…but Gendry came back, […]

Miscommunication

“She’s my sister.” Gendry put a heavy hand on the old man’s shoulder, and squeezed.” “Leave her be.”[…]“Why did you say that?” Arya hopped to her feet. “You’re not my brother.” “That’s right,” he said angrily. “I’m too bloody lowborn to be kin to m’lady high.” Arya was taken aback by the fury in his voice. “That’s not the way I meant it.” “Yes it is.” He sat down on the bench, cradling a cup of wine between his hands. “Go away, I want to drink this wine in peace. Then maybe I’ll go find the black-haired girl and ring her bell for her.” “But..” “I said, go away. M’lady.” Arya whirled and left him there. A stupid bullheaded bastard boy, that’s all he is.

Love Triangle

He doesn’t like Ned. The squire seemed nice enough to Arya; maybe a little shy, but good-natured.

Forbidden Love

“You must be a lackwit, boy,” said Lem. “We’re outlaws. Lowborn scum, most of us, excepting his lordship. Don’t think it’ll be like Tom’s fool songs neither. You won’t be stealing no kisses from a princess, nor riding in no tourneys in stolen armor. You join us, you’ll end with your neck in a noose, or your head mounted up above some castle gate.”

Right Person, Wrong Time

As Arya was cinching her saddle girth, Gendry came up to say that he was sorry. She put a foot in the stirrup and swung up into her saddle, so she could look down on him instead of up. You could have made swords at Riverrun, for my brother, she thought, […]

There was life at the crossroads inn, though. Even before they reached the gate, Brienne heard the sound: a hammering, faint but steady. It had a steely ring.

“…till you stand before m’lady.” Renly stood behind the girl, pushing his black hair out of his eyes. Not Renly, Gendry. “M’lady means for you to answer for your crimes.”

#Day 8: Romantic Tropes #bookgendryamonth2023 #arya stark #book arya stark #gendry #gendry waters #book gendrya #gendrya #arya x gendry #gendry x arya #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones

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spotsandsocks · 9 months

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Let me stay by your fire (for nothing warms me like you do) 4.5K M to E

A little birthday gift for @alyxmastershipper Ryan my lovely I hope you have a lovely day Let me stay by your fire (for nothing warms me like you do)

Big birthday hug 🥰

The sound of the anvil is loud; again and again metal on metal reverberates through the air. It’s a pattern that’s strong and sure, power and control combined just like the man inside. The man he’s come to see. The noise is almost loud enough to drown out the hammering of his own heart.

Almost.

It’s been a month since he’s been here. A month since he’s seen them. Him.

The Knight waits; he’s known as the bravest man in the Kingdom, he’s fought battles and terrors most men would run from but the four walls of the Smith’s home are the most terrifying thing he’s ever seen.

It’s just a building but it makes him want things, things he’d never thought he could have. He looks and he aches. It’s all he wants, a place to hang up his sword, a place to call home, people to call his, but does he have a chance? Does he dare try? Buck knows he’s about to face his last battle, one between his fear and his hope. It’s the biggest challenge he’s ever faced.

The noise continues to echo and with each heavy clang the picture inside his head becomes clearer. Buck can easily imagine the scene inside the forge. The man's arms, thick and strong, will be working tirelessly to lift the hammer and bring it down over and over again. All the strength he has in those muscles coiled then released to bend metal to his will but that’s not all Eddie uses his strength for. Buck’s seen those arms used to protect; to hold his child close, wrap him up and keep him safe, the action so gentle and tender that it hurts his heart to watch. He wonders if he’ll ever know how those arms feel wrapped around him.

The image inside his head shines brightly; untidy strands of brown hair damp with sweat sticking to his forehead, a tunic stretched tight over muscles visible even under the thick leather apron he’ll be wearing. Buck knows that the dark eyes that make his heart trip will be intense and focused on the fire and whatever miracle of metal he’s crafting.

The blacksmith is extremely skilled at his craft, it’s why Buck originally sought him out. The Diaz forge was well spoken of and he’d needed someone skilled to repair his armour. When he arrived he’d found so much more than he’d been looking for. After that first visit he returned again and then again and then again. Buck has spent considerable time and effort finding reasons that meant he had to visit the forge. It’s been years now. Eddie’s made new pieces of armour for him, he’s responsible for the sword that hangs on hip and several knives hidden on his body. One that saved his life once. Eddie’s become very familiar with Buck’s horse, he’s had her reshod here so many times. He’s even had him make smaller items like the jewelry he’s sent to his sister. Eddie had been particularly pleased to be challenged with something new and Buck smiles at the memory of the shy but proud twist of Eddie’s lips when the blacksmith had presented him with the bracelet he’d created out of two old spoons twisted and polished into something more beautiful and remarkable than the everyday item it had started as.

His horse stirs restlessly beneath him, she’s waited too long now and is familiar enough with this place to know rest, water and apples await her.

He’s not even sure why he’s hesitant to go closer. They’ve known each other long enough that he doesn’t need an excuse to visit anymore, he's a family friend, a regular visitor. He knows he’s welcome. He’s not really a guest anymore at Eddie’s but it’s different today. He’s finished with his duty, he’s left his comrades behind him and he wants a new kind of life. He wants to come home. He wants to stay.

He really hopes he can.

Last time he was here he learnt something about himself. He should have already known of course, and maybe a part of him had. It really shouldn’t have been the blinding revelation it had been but now he knows the truth he has to do something about it.

The moment of clarity that changed everything has been replayed in his head and dreams every night since he left here.

It had been just Eddie and him up late, talking in front of the fire. It had been simple, familiar; a mug of ale passed from one hand to another, fingers that brushed, eyes that held his, soft and warm with crinkles at the corner. Nothing new there.

The moment had centred on lips that curved softly and the thought had appeared unexpected and startling. Four words followed by four more.

I could kiss you.

I want to kiss you.

And Buck understood with blinding painful clarity that he didn’t keep returning to this place because Eddie was good at his job or that he had become his best friend or that Christopher was the cutest kid ever.

No in that moment wrapped in the light from the dying fire, the warmth coming from the hearth and Eddie’s eyes Buck had known the truth; he was in love, had always been, desperately, hopelessly, permanently.

Lost in each other's gaze Buck easily accepted that he’d never felt love like this before and that he wouldn’t again.

The fire cracked and the moment broke. Leaving a Knight and a Smith staring at the floor, cheeks red, hearts racing.

He’d left the next morning because Eddie could never be his, he’ll marry again one day, find someone to share his life with and be Christopher’s mother. Buck is his friend, that’s all. He knows that - except for the hope. He’s been fighting it and despite his victories and valor he’s losing the most important battle he’s ever faced.

So here he is. Maybe willing to try.

He could have stayed away longer, tried to let the feelings die but he’d missed them too much and he just wasn’t strong enough. Sir Buck searches for his last scrap of courage, aware that heartbreak might await him but he knows he’ll take what he can for as long as he can and when his heart finally does break he’ll still be grateful for the time he’s had here.

Buck dismounts and leads his horse towards the forge and the warmth he longs for but knows can’t ever really be his.

continue on Ao3

#buddie fic #911fic #911 fic #buddie #evan ‘buck’ buckley #eddie díaz

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just-late-roman-republic-things · 3 months

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Notes on Roman economics:

Rome, as a city, grew massively from 200 BCE to ~50 BCE, and most of this growth probably came from immigration (including slaves). The city's infrastructure struggled to keep up, and the inhabitants came to need more food than the rest of Italy could support.

Why so much growth? Part of it was people looking for work. The competitive building projects and public events of the elite created demand, more than anywhere else in Italy. Demand was further raised by the fact that Rome had outstripped its immediate natural resources, and thus needed more imports than most cities. Part of it was the slave trade and high manumission rate: captives brought back from wars, often freed later because keeping a slave was expensive. And part of it was imperialism: inhabitants of towns Rome had destroyed or impoverished would often move to Rome itself, looking for opportunities. Scholars, artisans, traders all gathered there, because Rome paid better and had more customers. In the 1st century, this may have also been increased by larger farms buying out smallholders. The money flowed one way, and people followed.

The number of poor and working-class inhabitants grew much faster than the aristocratic class, and overtook the traditional patron-client system, which had forged interclass alliances. But now, there were a lot more poor families who didn't have a patron to assist them in finding work, education, or food. And a lot of them, like Italians after the Social War, probably had well-founded resentment for how the city treated them.

This rapid growth may have made the collegia - those same groups mobilized by Clodius and Milo - both more powerful and more volatile. For immigrants who didn't already have a patron or nearby relatives, collegia provided community, professional connections, and a way to integrate into Rome. Not to mention you could take political action much more effectively as a group, and slaves and freedmen were welcome in most collegia, too. But from the aristocracy's perspective, these community networks were a threat. Even before Clodius organized mob violence, the collegia competed with the old patron-client system for gaining voters' support.

This aristocratic defensiveness may also explain some of the opposition to the grain dole: a state-sponsored public benefit competed with private nobles' ability to win support by handing out wealth. However, the aristocracy was too small as a class to effectively patronize Rome's poor on the same scale, and eventually ceded the issue for the sake of public order.

Extravagant public monuments, banquets, and gladiator shows served not only to get politicians prestige, but also recirculated money back into the middle and working classes. The Roman people were not simply fools who'd vote for whoever gave them a good show; politicians who were stingy could be seen as hoarding wealth and not serving the people. (This is also partly why identifying electoral bribery was so difficult - what counted as "bribery" vs. just "respecting the voters" was vague.)

(My comment - the patron-client system, monuments industry, and grain dole all seem to have acted as "vents." I think of a socioeconomic "vent" as a mechanism that grants limited benefit or opportunity to part of an underclass to induce them to cooperate with the system instead of reforming or overturning it. It prevents pressure from building up, promotes stability but not necessarily justice. There's probably a better word for this, maybe from Marxist theory? I don't know.)

Keep in mind that the issue wasn't immigration per se, or the "Roman mob" only caring about handouts or being easily fooled by demagogues. The Roman people - including non-citizens - had plenty of legitimate needs and grievances that were not being addressed by the upper class.

The rising population likely inspired the colonization projects of Gaius Gracchus and others, as a way to export people and try to relieve pressure on the capital.

A high population, underserved by infrastructure, alienated from the elites, and galvanized by grain shortages and rising inequality, probably contributed to the political violence of the late republic, and made the government as a whole far less stable.

Based on "The City of Rome" by John R. Patterson, in A Companion to the Roman Republic, eds. Nathan Rosenstein and Robert Morstein-Marx

#jlrrt reads #jlrrt essays #john r patterson #a companion to the roman republic #roman economics

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bitch-for-a-rainbow · 7 months

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Supercorptober Day 3: Kara

The folder is burning a hole through Lena’s desk.

Not literally, of course, that hasn’t happened in years. (Thanks, Jack). But it might as well be. Jess had dropped it off a few hours ago with a meaningful glance that was as close to an “I told you so” her professionalism would allow. It’s thicker than Lena would have thought. Much thicker. She tries to pretend that isn’t as much of a warning sign as Jess handing it to her in person had been. She eyes it like a snake, and the name emblazoned at the top seems to glare back.

Kara Danvers

It’s stupid, really, her hesitation. These background checks have been done on every person she’s been in close contact with since she was four years old— and they’ve only grown more intensive after Lex’s fall. Even Sam had had to go through this once. Kara is no different.

Except that she is. Except that now Lena has a folder on her desk thick enough that the plastic cover is bulging. Except that if there wasn’t an issue, Jess would have just told her that Kara had been cleared. Except that Jess had never, in the almost 3 years she had worked for Lena, given Lena one of these folders in person, on paper.

The nagging worry chews at the base of her gut. Here they are. All of Kara’s secrets. She really hadn’t thought the woman could keep a secret at all, but she must have. She must have.

Kara is a journalist. Lena’s known that from the start. Maybe she’d been hired to write a hit piece, and her friendship had just been a means to get her scoop. Maybe she’s been selling photos or compromising gossip or the project details that Lena has been stupid enough to tell her about over their lunches. There are a hundred options— all of them terrible. She could have connections to Lex, an ugly voice whispers in the back of her mind. Maybe he’s been using you this whole time.

Lena brushes the thought away harshly. If anything, Kara might come down on the opposite danger of that particular arrangement. None of Lex’s cronies would argue that strongly for aliens, even if they were playing the long game.

The folder sits, and its secrets burn her.

Lena flicks it open. To her surprise, the first page is a copy of Kara’s adoption certificate. There’s a photo pinned to it. Kara isn’t wearing her glasses here, but no one could say it isn’t her. The flannel she’s wearing is ill-fitting, and the jeans are belted on and rolled up at the ankles. It’s a family photo— Jeremiah and Eliza beam arm-in-arm, with Alex on their right and Kara on their left. Kara stands slightly apart from the rest of the family. She doesn’t smile.

There’s a note at the bottom of the photo. It reads, “Earliest verifiable proof of life.” The second note, at the bottom of the adoption certificate, is far more damning. “Forged.”

Lena sifts through the rest of the pages, curiosity banishing her unease. The same note repeats again and again.

Forged. Forged. Forged.

Kara’s birth certificate is fake. From what Jess’ sources have found, every school transcript, every medical record, every single document even hinting at Kara’s existence before the age of 13 is fake— and they aren’t poorly made forgeries either. Before the family photo was taken, December 14th, 2003, there is no evidence she existed at all. No photographs, no real records. Jess’ PIs couldn’t connect her to any dead or disappeared children in the year or so before the photo. There’s just nothing. An empty hole where a life should be. Even now, every medical record she has (limited to a few necessary vaccinations) is fake.

Kara’s claim that her parents died in a car accident is as unprovable as her birth. Of the nearly 39,000 car accidents in the United States in 2003, none of them can be connected to Kara. The simple fact, raised in a small addendum at the end of the first section, is that someone had worked very hard to make it look as though a girl named Kara Danvers (Born Kara Brown) had been born and raised in California.

It’s not the worst outcome there could have been, Lena decides. So far, there’s no connection to Lex, nor even to any specific security risk. Maybe Kara had been in Witness protection, or she’d been illegally adopted from a foreign country. None of it’s good, but on the scale of 1 to psychopathic mass murderer, it’s actually all rather minor.

She opens the next section, and her stomach drops. It’s a death certificate— Jeremiah Danvers’ death certificate. “Plane Crash - Presumed dead on impact.” Her eyes drift lower, and she knows what the note will say before she reads it. Forged.

The next several documents are government-issued mission reports and memos. She doesn’t recognize the heading at the top, “DEO,” but the notes beneath it confirm its veracity. They are purposefully vague in places, but Lena has read enough of the old Cadmus documentation after the Medusa attack to read between the lines. Jeremiah Danvers had been caught hiding aliens, and he’d been given a choice. He could help catch them, or he and his family could join them. Lena remembers the way Kara had recoiled at her alien detection device. She feels slightly queasy.

There’s nothing more about Jeremiah in the documents, only a few scattered remarks on Cadmus’ activity in the area of Peru where his plane had gone down. There are a few other documents. Alex apparently works for this DEO, and she’s rather high-ranking too. The end of the file has some written conclusions, theories of the investigators. Lena doesn’t pay them much mind. It was the data she needed.

So, Kara was raised by a known alien smuggler, one who’d been discovered for an undisclosed “incident” only a year after Kara’s adoption. She had no verifiable proof of existence before the age of 13. By all accounts, Kara hasn’t been to a doctor in the past 12 years, but Lena has never seen her so much as sneeze. And in all the months Lena has known her, Kara has only ever said 2 things about her life before the Danvers— that she’s adopted, and her mother was “sort of like a lawyer.” It’s not exactly the world’s hardest puzzle to solve.

Kara Danvers is an alien.

Okay, then.

What the fuck does she do now?

#supergirl #lena luthor #supercorp #kara danvers #supercorptober2023

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forgedbyvulcan · 1 month

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Vulcan.

Agent Vulcan (Forge) aka Kwon Haru’s introduction.

Sorry for the wait! I’d like to preface this introduction with a disclaimer that it has been a hot minute since I’ve been on tumblr, so I apologize if I’m a little slow as things pick up for me again! I’ll leave some basic knowledge of Haru below and some basic plots that I’ll be adding to her connections page, so feel free to like this post and I’ll dm you! (My discord is also linked on this blog if that’s your preference!).

Haru was born in Pyeongtaek, but her single father stationed at the KATUSA base found himself unable to raise her on his own and had her guardianship taken over by his close friend who lived in San Diego, California.

She grew up with a silver spoon surrounded by a morally ambiguous conglomerate family.

Graduated with a mechanical engineering degree from MIT.

After joining her adoptive family’s corporation nepotism at its finest she worked with both companies who made parts of weapons and cars. Eventually being privy to more information than most she noticed the suspicious activity that she would later find out to be the illegal arms trade operation her father was running behind his companies. Hungry for both the praise of her adoptive father and power, she agreed to join him and his operation. From there she began designing and modifying guns, flying out to different countries acting as her father’s representative immersed fully in illegal arms trade. For years she didn’t realize the extent of her actions until she at the other end of the barrel she had designed. Upon realizing the blood on her hands her moral compass did a 180 and orchestrated a small arms trade ring that would catch the attention of someone who she could turn herself into and divulge her knowledge to. She had no intentions at taking a plea bargain at first, but eventually accepted through the coaxing of her then soon-to-be mentor at AEGIS.

Haru practically lives in the armory at headquarters, so she’s often found there or knocking back her fifth cup of coffee in the break room.

Upon meeting an agent for the first time Haru will often ask them to spar usually without giving context to better assess what modifications to make to their weapons based on their combat styles.

Her outward disposition is extroverted, eccentric and friendly. However, she does make a hobby out of finding and pressing the buttons of agents she finds “too stiff”.

An expert and perfectionist in her own field, Haru is most serious when it comes to weapons and weapon safety for the agents.

Basic plots/connections.

“Wreck it Ralph” — an agent who is a repeat offender of handling their weapons more roughly than others. The bane of her existence and someone she excepts to see after every mission to fix their weapons or equipment.

“Caffeine Fiends” — her partner in crime in the break room, someone else she often finds in the dead of the night at their wits end and on their 4th cup of coffee of the day. A low energy friend who doesn’t mind listening to her rant about weaponry jargon.

“Don’t press the red button” — An agent that she’s on less favorable terms with. Haru enjoys seeing what makes the stiff or stoic agents tick and this person in particular was a ticking time bomb. However they’re a begrudgingly good team and Haru can’t help herself when it comes to pressing their buttons.

Other connections:

an agent she first met upon being captured by her mentor and was there during her confinement period.

her hand to hand combat teacher.

someone who does “wellness checks” on her when she tends to stay in the armory for a few days at a time.

someone who knew her before she turned tides whether it was at her college or for being notorious in the illegal arms trade (maybe having been a former target of theirs).

rivals, exes, fwbs, etc are all welcome.

I have been debating whether or not to add her mentor to the list of wanted connections, however this agent is age locked within the range of 40-45 years old and may end up being an npc who is no longer around.

#Vulcan ; introduction

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