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sweetmuffynsblog · 2 years

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What?!

Warning: English is not my first language so please bear with me💀 oh and also, Daemon is cool, My boy Laenor is amazing and Crispin is an asshole! Oh, and Targaryen Incest, but what's new?

This morning in the Red Keep was very different than any other morning, You, The first Princess, who was born three year before your sister Rhaenyra sit and look at every maids who ran like there's no tomorrow.

Today is your sister's wedding day, your father, much to Rhaenyra's dismay decided to wed her with Laenor Velaryon, your other cousin, now, in another lifetime, it's a good match, for you know Laenor is a very good young man, with a good attitue, good heart and handsome, oh and he is also a dragonrider and a talented knight, but the thing is, he doesn't find women particularly up to his taste... Or, in another words, he doesn't like women, not at all. You knew it long time ago when you caught him and his guard, Ser Joffrey Lonmouth kissing in the hills, and Laenor made you swore to never tell any single soul and he promised to always bring you the finest jewellery and silk everytime his father's ship, the Sea Snake go to the free cities, everyone thought it was the act of courtship, even his father encourages it, but much to many people's displeasure, he will be marrying your sister, you wanted him to marry you, Laenor is a good man, you don't mind his tastes, because he knows he will not mind yours, marrying Laenor will probably the best decisions you will have in your lifetime, simply because you know he will supports you no matter what, but alas, he is now engaged and to be married to your own sister.

You are always be the one who notices everything, much to your pleasure and other people's dismay, you have information that you got from your spies around the King's Landing, you can see everything and everywhere. That's why you knew that your uncle, Daemon Targaryen, didn't defiled your younger sister at all, he ran like a coward after introduced her to a pleasure, and Rhaenyra slept with Ser Criston 'Crispin' Cole instead. You wanted to help your sister, and told your father but Otto Hightower, the Ex-Hand of The King beat you into it, and he angered your father which resulted his firing, you like it, because you hate that son of a bitch.

"Your Grace, it's the time." Your maid, Alina comes, you nod give her smile which she returned, "which dress you want to use, Your Grace?"

"i want the Red and Black dress." she picks up the black red with blood red cloak, it's a colour of your house, you are proud of it, and always wearing it everytime you got a chance, especially in this special occasion.

After that you go to the great hall, where everyone sit and the music can be hear. You are fashionably late for dramatic purpose, you are a Targaryen, dramatic is in your blood.

The guards outsite bow, you nod your head then straighten your posture,

"PRESENTING, PRINCESS Y/N TARGARYEN, PRINCESS OF DRAGONSTONE AND HEIR TO THE IRON THRONE!"

You can hear every movement and music stops, when you walk inside, everyome stand up and men bowed their heads, women curtsying, you only give people your small smile, before come closer and curtsying to your father, you noticed the additional guest in the royal table, Daemon Targaryen.

Now, you never hate your uncle at all, you find him quite amusing, especially with his childish antics, and stubborn stature. He stand up and you smile at him which he returns with nod, you know he likes you enough to considered you a family member, beside, you know his fonds for your sister. You sit in your chair, and the music continue, you frown when you can not find your father's wife there, it's not usual for her to be late in the special occasion like this.

"how are you, dear niece?" your uncle asks, your shoot him a look and taking sip of your wine,

"i'm always good, uncle, how about you? I didn't receive any information about your return?"

"i come here, want to celebrate my niece's wedding and share my brother's joy, of course, it's a surprise."

You roll your eyes, everyone knows about your uncle's antics, that's why they get used to it, and find it not surprising anymore when he walked into the great hall as if nothing happened, as if your father didn't exiled him at all as a punishment.

"Congratulations, Rhaenyra, Laenor, i wish both of you joy."

You raise your cup to them and taking sip of your wine, you see every food and take a bite of your lemon cakes. Before you hear the music stops once again and everyone look at the door, there stand Alicent, your father's new wife, in a dark green dress, you frowned at her, especially when you recall that when Hightowers wanted to call their bannermen to a war, they will light the green fire to let them know, who this bitch wants to light a war for?! Seeds of doubts in your mind, you know Alicent is a bad news when she agreed to marry your father, and now, she wants a war? With whom? Does she want to challenged your claim by making her son the new heir? You scoffed, if that so then you will make sure to cut Hightower's influence, there's no way you will let anyone challenged your claim to the Throne. Everyone stand, while you and Daemon still sitting, you look at Alicent, there's no way you can give her the satisfaction of having your respect, she's not worth it.

She comes and kiss your father's cheeks before sitting down, you feel Daemon smirks at you when you simply rolling your eyes, by sunsets tomorrow you will make sure that the Hightower will lose their power, you will not let any assholes challenged your claim, the Iron Throne is yours, you will be the first Queen Regnant of the Seven Kingdoms.

The feast continue, and it's time for Rhaenyra and Laenor to dance, both of them dancing while you hear your uncle scoffes in his seat,

"why? Jealous?" you ask, giving him your smug smile, Daemon only frowned at you, "well, if you aren't so stupid then the position of Rhaenyra's husband will be yours. And i will be happier because i can marry Laenor."

"are you jealous of your sister, dear niece?" he sarcastically asks, "and you do realise right that Lord Velaryon's taste is differ from other men?"

"of course, i do, my uncle. But i know i will be happy if i am the one who marrying him!"

Both of you whispered at each other, for others, they may see how close you two, only both of you know the reality. Your uncle fonds of Your sister while you, despite being The Heir, never have anyone to find you interesting, maybe because your personality. You are not a naive Rhaenyra, you are trained to be the Queen by your great-grandmother, Queen Alyssane herself, and even The late Dowager Queen Rhaena, your badass great-grandaunt was fond of you, teaching you everything you should know to play Game Of Thrones. So you are so different with Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra is a Realm's delight while you, the Realm's Future. Your presence alone demand respect, even since a young age, that's why no one can get close to you no matter what, only Velaryon family, Laenor and his companion, ser Joffrey, that you find descent enough to be close with.

You sip your wine when you see Daemon gets closer to Rhaenyra and both of them almost kissing, really, infront of your salad, it seems that everyone don't see it. You speak with Laena and Rhaenys, and also with Corlys, sharing secret smile with Larys Strong, the new Hand, you know that man is very poisonous, he is ten times worse than Otto but you like him, you even provided him with the information he needed for exchange of loyalty towards you alone, you know that killing him will be easy, you have contact with Faceless Men since you didn't even start your moonblood.

And without noticing, an assasin comes and the hell broke out. Everyone panicking, you feel someone hold your hips and before you even registered it, the person throw you into their shoulders as if you are a sack of potato,

"fuck!" you scream, "put me down! What the hell do you think you do?!"

"shut up, Princess!" you can hear your uncle's voice, it seems that your uncle is the one who throws you into his shoulder like a sack of potato,

"uncle Daemon, let me go!" you screamed, you look up and see Ser Criston kills Ser Joffrey, "Oh My Gods! Laenor! Ser Joffrey!" you scream, resisted when your uncle brings you out from the hall, tears streaming down your face, you are sobbing, Ser Joffrey is dead, Laenor must've be very sad right now, you want to go inside and hug your best friend. Before you even walk, a hand grips your shoulder,

"stay here, Y/N, you can't go inside, it's not safe!"

"Criston killed Ser Joffrey! Laenor probably so sad right now i want to accompany him, uncle Daemon." you are crying mess right now, you are the one who support Laenor and Joffrey's relationship, you are the one who didn't frown at them or throwing them judgement look, your heart is clenched so hard that you cannot find yourself can properly breathing.

"sshh..." Daemon hugs you, it's the first time you are being hugged by a person other than your mother and Laenor or Rhaenyra, you resisted him but he grips you with so much force that you cannot resisted anymore. "breath with me, sweetheart, breath..." you can hear his heart, the rythym calm you down a little by little, before you even know it, you hug him back.

***

In the morning, when you wake up and go to the hall to have your breakfast, you see everyone giving you a weird look, you cannot even fanthom why. You walk with grace, you already ordered your faceless men to do your work... By it you mean killed a lot of people last night, now you only wait for the result.

You see Laenor sits quietly in the garden, overlooking something, you come close to him and you feel your heart clenched, "Laenor..." you whisper, he seems to hear you, you see his sight and it brokes your heart, you sit by his side and draw him into the hug, "i'm sorry..." you can feel him sobbing, his tears soaking your dress but you cannot find yourself to be angry at it, his entire body shaking.

After it feels like hours, he lets go of your body and wiped his tears using the cloth, you see his bloodshoot red eyes, "i am sorry for making your dress mess."

"you are my bestfriend and so does him, i am sorry, Laenor..."

"it's ok, it's not your fault." he says, sad smile in his face, "i want to congratulate you, actually."

You frown, "what do you mean?"

"you don't know? The King, Your Father decrees your marriage to your uncle, Daemon this morning! By now everyone in the court already know it."

The colour drained off your face so fast, your mind go blank, "what?!"

"one of your father's courtier saw you in a rather compromising position with your uncle last night and a maid saw your uncle out of your bedchamber last night too..." Laenor looks at you, noticing your quietness and your pale face, "don't say that you didn't know?!"

"Fuck!"

***

You want to stab someone so badly, especially a certain blonde haired man, the rider of Caraxes to be exact. You find him in a Dragonpit, his hands in Caraxes's snout, give him an attention he deserves. You come closer to him, and Caraxes lets out a whine that makes your mood better, you caress him, you look at your uncle,

"what in the seven hells, uncle!" you said slowly, your voice is low but dangerous, "you cannot having my fucking sister now you want to ruined my life?!"

You can hear another growl from a very familiar dragon, your own dragon seems restless while sensing your anger, Daemon looks at you,

"that's not i mean..."

"that's what exactly your meaning, you bastard!"

"that's not what i mean." you distance yourself from Caraxes and from his owner, you shake your head, and walk a step behind when Daemon comes closer,

"yes, that's what you mean! You cannot have my sister now for she is married and now you want to settle for me? I don't want to become your second choice, Daemon! I don't want it!"

Daemon comes closer to you, want to holds your hand but you flinched away making him stop,

"Y/N I-"

"You are being mean!" tears streaming down your face, "everyone have love Rhaenyra my whole life! I was never the first choice of everyone, everyone sees me as the heir, they love Rhaenyra as a human! I've always been second to her my whole life, Daemon and i won't be the person you settle for just because you can't have her!"

With that you walk away, away from him and his trapped and well planned shit. You should've known better, there's no way he's helping you because he wants your safety, no, he wants the fucking Iron Throne, and you will be a tools for him to achieve it. He will never loves you, your marriage is doomed. He loves your sister. He always will.

I feel like i should do the second part? Yes or no?

#daemon targaryen #rhaenyra icons #daemon x rhaenyra #daemon x reader #the house of the dragon #laenor x joffrey #queen rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen #laenor velaryon #laenor x rhaenyra

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sheerfreesia007 · 1 year

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Stupid Cupid #26

Title: Stupid Cupid # 26

Fandom: Top Gun Maverick

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader

Author: @sheerfreesia007

Words: 1,150

Warnings: Fluff

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711, @fioccodineveautunnale, @phoenixhalliwell, @linkpk88, @weirdowithnobeardo, @athalien

Prompt: Compliments

Gif Credit: @topgundaily

Jake rushed through the doors of the restaurant knowing that he was late for dinner with you and his folks. He had promised you that he’d be there with you to meet them but his last briefing had run late and he was left racing to the restaurant after hurriedly dressing himself. Tonight was supposed to be the night that he introduced you to his parents as his girlfriend and he knew you were a little nervous to meet them. something about making a good impression on them since you and Jake were now dating.

Just as he came up to the podium he spotted his mother and father seated at a table not far from the middle of the room, you were sitting across the table from them with your back to him and the front door. From what he saw it looked as if you were talking nervously about something as your hands waved in the air, he smiled softly as he recognized your nervous tick.

The sound of someone clearing their throat caught his attention as he stepped closer to the table you were sitting at and he turned his head to see a pretty young woman standing at the podium looking at him with eager hungry eyes. The old Jake would have been flattered and eating up the attention but he was more focused on getting over to you so that he could ease your nerves as you sat alone with his parents. Ever since he had met you he’d seen a change in his attitude towards women, even his own squad mates had noticed the change with Rooster continuously thanking you whenever he could.

“Can I help you?” simpered the hostess and Jake shook his head with a kind smile.

“No ma’am, my girlfriend and parents are right over there.” he explained as he pointed to your table. He watched as the woman seemed to deflate with the knowledge that he had a girlfriend. Jake didn’t bother to wait for a response from her as he made his way over to the table. He approached from behind you and as he got closer to the table he made eye contact with his mother who smiled warmly at him before flicking her eyes back to you. Just as Jake was about to reach out for you he heard what you were saying to his parents.

“You must be so proud of Jake.” you said affectionately and it caused him to stop short as he stood quiet to listen into your conversation.

“Of course we are. But tell me dear, why are you proud of him?” His mother asked kindly as she smiled encouragingly at you.

“Oh well, I’ve only known him for a short amount of time so far. But he’s told me about all of his commendations from the Navy. He wasn’t able to tell all the details but it’s all very impressive and a testament of his skill and talent as a naval aviator.” you expressed to them in soft awe of his career. Jake felt his chest puff up importantly as you explained to his parents how he made you proud. “But I think his character is even more of a reason to be proud of him. Jake’s a proud man and he has reason to be but there’s also a soft kind side to him that while not shown very often, he does have it.” you said affectionately as you chuckled softly. His mother laughed delightedly at your words as she darted her eyes over to his father who smirked knowingly.

“Let me guess he was full of himself when he first met you.” his father said with a knowing laugh.

“Oh yeah, persistent, arrogant, almost too full of himself.” you agreed with a reminiscent chuckle. “But after I turned him down the third time he took a step back and tried again with a different approach.” you explained to them fondly. Jake watched as his mother and father looked at you with shocked wide eyes.

“Three times?” his father asked, surprised as his eyes darted over to Jake who nodded his head in answer. Jake took another step closer to you as he listened to speak up again.

“Yup three times. Once he figured out that I wasn’t interested in a cocky pretty boy aviator he showed me a different side to him.” You responded factually. “He truly is a sweet, thoughtful, kind man who I wished would show that side more to everyone else. But I understand why he doesn’t. It comes with the career, I understand.” you said showing how intuitive you were about Jake’s life.

“What was the sweetest thing he’s done for you?” his mother asked curiously and Jake could feel you light up at her question even while he stood behind you.

“I have a dog at home and one night I was working late into the night. When I told Jake that I was worried about my dog not being able to go out for a few hours he went over to my house and walked her for him as well as ordered take out for dinner for us.” You responded and his mother smiled kindly at you as she nodded her head.

“That sounds like Jake.” she said with a happy smile on her face. Jake shook his head gently as he felt his chest swelling with pride and love for you as you talked about him with his parents. He placed a hand on your shoulder gently and felt you jolt in your seat.

“Talking about me even when I’m not here huh?” he asked teasingly as his mother and father smiled at him fondly while you looked up at him worriedly.

“Only good things I promise.” you said hurriedly and he grinned at you softly before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“I know I heard the tail end of the conversation. I’m glad you’re not nervous anymore.” he whispered into your ear.

“How long have you been standing by and watching?” you asked him and he grinned at you as he took his seat.

“Only from when you said that you were proud of me.” he teased you softly and you gasped softly at him making him grin wider at you. “You keep giving me those compliments and soon they’ll go to my head.” he said, making his mother chuckle at his words.

“Too late.” you griped out and both of his parents burst out in laughter as they avidly watched the two of you interact. Jake grinned before winking at you then turning to his parents so he could join the conversation finally. He grinned ever wider when he felt your hand find his under the table and grip it tightly in reassurance, he responded in kind as the conversation flowed between the four of you.

#my writing #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #stupid cupid

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thebathatter · 2 years

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Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: This might just be the most interesting boring party Tommy Shelby has ever been to.

Authors Note: This was written for @notyour-valentine 1k Follower celebration using the prompt "An inappropriate giggle" which is so cute! I hope I managed to do this prompt justice. I went a little to hard so I hope its not too long. This is like my second fic ever but I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope y'all like it! Sorry in advance for any mistakes you encounter bc no beta. Anywhoo Once again Congratulations on such a huge milestone! Enjoy!

p.s I named her Lucy bc I had "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" on repeat lol

A Funny Girl

Thomas Micheal Shelby was a man of many talents, he was rather good with words, a natural leader, and a savvy businessman, seemingly all one needed to successfully run a company and intermingle with England's high society. Oh, how wrong he was, for all his many talents Tommy Shelby has yet to master the deplorable art of small talk.

Attending parties has suddenly become an integral part of his job. Charity parties, dinner parties, company parties, derby parties, the whole lot of them all the same high and mighty lords and those cowards from the cavalry and decorated upper-class ladies talking about everything and nothing. Granted they would once in a while say something with some merit but the instances were few and far in between, and it certainly was not worth the side glances he would get from the men or the overwhelming sound of the ladies giggling and not so subtly commenting on his bachelor status.

“I certainly think that is a cause worth supporting, don't you think so Mr.Shelby?” a high-pitched voice shook him from his thoughts. Shit! What is this woman's name Lady Beabroke? What were they talking about? Better to just go on with it

“Of course, noble indeed. Where would I need to inquire about donating?” he asks politely hoping his voice does not sound as dazed as he felt.

“Why I believe Lord Walker’s secretary handles all their donations isn't that right sir?” Lady Beabroke continues addressing the well-dressed plump man standing across from them.

“Ah yes, my niece! I am afraid she is late again as I have not seen her but once she makes an appearance I will make sure to point her out to you Mr.Shelby we are very grateful for any contribution, children are the future after all.” Lord Walker says a deep chuckle all proud and smiling way too much for someone as serious as a Lord. If Tommy still believed in Father Christmas he might have mistaken Lord Walker for him.

Tommy politely excuses himself for a moment to walk towards a waiter holding a tray with champagne glasses hoping the alcohol would hold him over until dinner, he doesn't make it 3 feet before he is ambushed by pearls and giggles.

“Oh, Mr.Shelby I am so glad you were able to make it tonight” says Lady Owen the organizer of the event, her husband is a betting man, and never seems to have any luck with the horses.

“Yes Mr. Shelby you’re a delight indeed” Lady Madison continues in an overly sweet voice almost making him cringe “ Why you should've brought your darling brothers! I would love to meet them, rumor has it they're as handsome as you!” Both women break into delicate practiced laughter.

“You lovely ladies are too kind,” he says, giving them a side smile. It must have the right effect as both women seem charmed enough.

A loud laugh interrupts whatever intelligent conversation the women were about to regale him with next, which causes them all three to turn towards the entrance of the grand hall.

“ I am fine, it's just a little water sir! I needed a shower anyways ” a female voice says just as a young woman in a green dress walks into the hall with a waiter holding a small hand towel up to her which she gratefully takes. She is more or less dry, her exposed arms are littered with droplets and he notices her trendy bobbed hair is slightly damp as she rubs the towel up and down both of her arms, the whole time smiling and giggling at herself.

“Ah that must be Lord Walker's niece,” Lady Madison says “Heard she is quite a… funny girl, she comes from America you see”

“Uncle!” she excitedly yells once she spots him among the crowd attracting everyone's attention “Oops excuse me that was loud! As you were everyone” she continues walking to her equally smiley Uncle who embraces her in a bear hug before looking her over and laughing once again both seemingly finding it hilarious that she showed up to this high-class party in such a state.

“Americans never change, do they? So loud! Also, look at her dress, it almost hits her knees how indecent!” said Lady Owens judgemental voice quipped sounding incredibly scandalized “Oh my she’s coming this way”

Indeed she was. The young woman was merrily making her way toward them this time with a small folder in her hand.

“Good evening! You must be Mr. Shelby, my Uncle has told me a good deal about you” she said offering her hand for him to shake. He was at a loss for a second as he’d often heard ladies don't shake hands but recovered quickly and extended his own gently shaking her smaller hand. Her skin was soft yet not without a certain roughness to it, definitely not an idle lady that sits all day for tea and gossip and her grip was firm and full of confidence, she's done this before then. She made eye contact with him the whole time offering a sweet smile, her gaze was soft and relaxed. He was not used to not seeing people with their guard up and this girl was an open book, it almost startled him to see someone bare it all without a care in the world.

“Thank you so much for inviting us Lady Owens, it's a lovely party” she turned to the hostess politely.

“I was beginning to think you would not show up Ms.Walker '' Lady Owens replied tensely, pointedly ignoring Ms. Walker's gratitude “A little more and you would've missed dinner. Would you like to use the upstairs to freshen up?” Ah, there it was the unique passive aggressiveness of the upper class.”

“I am truly sorry for my lateness it's too easy to get turned around in a city like yours and don’t worry about me Lady Owens I’m sure it's not the first time your guests have seen wet hair with this dreary weather you have here in London,” she says with a polite smile Good save Tommy thinks she was not rude but she did not take it on the chin either. Ms.Walker turned back to him and took a breath to start speaking when she was rudely interrupted by Lady Owens

“As I was saying Mr.Shelby your eyes are truly magnificent isn't that right Lady Madison”

“Why I do believe they the bluest I have ever seen”

“That is very kind of you, My Lady” Tommy replied, wondering if he was starting to feel embarrassed.

“See Mr.Shelby I have a daughter, she’s a bit younger than you but she's a pretty thing, very good background and very obedient” Lady Owens continued

“All of this is terribly interesting Lady Owens but in order not to waste more time,” Ms.Walker started “Mr.Shelby my uncle has instructed me to give you more information regarding our foundation it can all be found in these documents along with our office address here in London I would love to take you on a tour of our facilities so you can make an informed decision on whether or not you decide to partner with us”

He admired the way she politely took over the conversation and enjoyed Lady Owen's baffled look at being so suddenly stopped mid-conversation handing him the folder she turned to the ladies and said “Well ladies I won’t take any more of your time you can get back to your obedient daughter and Mr.Shelby's dreamy blue eyes” she looked at him and winked teasingly before gracefully walking back to her uncle.

“Well she is certainly forward, isn't she? Modern women, no wonder they can't find suitable husbands I heard they call them charity girls” Lady Owens said scornfully

“Charity girls?” Lady Madison asked suddenly very intrigued at the chance to hear some new gossip

“Oh, I can barely make myself repeat it,” Lady Owens said, putting her jeweled hand to her chest seemingly steading herself “You know working girls Mary? Well a charity girl does what working girls do without charge”

Lady Madison gasped and held her hand to her chest “Oh my”

Both had seemingly forgotten Tommy was standing there with them utterly bored of their little exchange. He turned to see Ms. Walker standing next to her uncle talking to Lord Madison who seemed to be charmed by her, both exchanged a couple of laughs before Madison nodded and he shook hands with her Uncle presumably making a deal. Working girl or not, she is good at her job.

Once dinner was served Thomas found himself sitting next to Ms.Walker and after a toast to the king they started to eat, chatter filling the large hall.

“So did she get the date?

“Excuse me,” Tommy said as he turned to look directly at her

“Lady Owen’s obedient daughter. Did she land a date with your magnificent blue eyes Mr.Shelby ?” The last sentence was said in a fake London accent, gaudy and posh imitating Lady Madison. Tommy did not know how to react. No one in these events ever spoke to him so casually or in such a direct manner before.

“No” he finally replied

“Shame” she responded “you know when she first started talking I thought she was trying to sell you a dog”

That made Thomas almost choke on his champagne. She just says whatever comes to mind eh? he thought.

“I mean good background and very obedient. I was thinking about a greyhound or something. Guess not, just her human daughter” she turned and smirked this time her eyes were mischievous. It reminded him of the look Finn gave them when he would think no one knew he was smoking cigarettes in the garden.

“But hey I am a modern woman, I drink, I smoke, I dance the Charleston, no chance of finding a husband with pretty blue eyes for me”

“You heard that” his brows furrowed. For some reason, he felt a tinge in his chest at the thought of her taking what those old hags said about her seriously.

“Oh they never say anything you are not meant to hear at these parties” she replied calmly smiling back at him “It only serves as a reminder that my life is more fun than hers”

He had never really thought about it like that. Money always meant freedom and power but fun? No, fun had never really crossed his mind.

“It almost makes me feel bad for Lady Owens” she continues

“Why is that?” Tommy started now engaged in the most entertaining conversation of the night.

“Even though she is a literal charity girl I doubt she’s had a good lay in a while”

Thomas' couldn't help but snort before his face fell “I am sorry you had to hear that. It's none of their business”

“Don’t trouble yourself about it Mr.Shelby it's not like you said it” She said calmly “Not the first time and not the last time someone will call me that I can assure you, the upper class is an uptight bunch but seeing them scandalized is always very entertaining”

“You got that right, love” he replies going back to his food “Call me Tommy”

“I’m Lucy,” she says and he turns around to find her already looking at him. She smiles sweetly and he finds himself returning it. Her cheeks blush a little, must be the champagne.

“A toast to my lovely wife” Lord Owen's booming voice is heard from the head of the table “Who organized this lovely evening and whose big heart encourages us to give to those most in need”

Everyone raised their glass before Lord Owens continued “And of course, we must include my wife’s fellow charity girls who are always willing to help her spread joy and kindness.”

Lucy turned to look at him immediately they managed to hold it together for a second before they dissolved into laughter. Lord Owens was significantly confused and his wife was going red in the face either in anger for their inappropriate reaction or her husband's seemingly innocent comment having a double meaning he was ignorant to.

Quickly composing herself Lucy spoke first “I deeply apologize, Lord Owens. Mr. Shelby is more charming than I gave him credit for” she motioned to him placing her hand on his arm gently ignoring the scandalized and judgemental stares from the ladies sitting across from them.

Lord Owens most definitely already under the calm fog of alcohol simply smiled “No apology needed Ms.Wilson. We were young once too”

Once dinner was through the guests started to slowly dissipate as their cars were brought towards the front.

“Well Tommy I thank you for a truly entertaining dinner” Lucy spoke as they both waited for their cars away from the rest of the guests

“You should be thanking Lord Owens and his charity girls” Tommy replied while lighting a cigarette feeling rejuvenated as he inhaled the smoke tasting the tobacco. His reply coaxed another pretty laugh from her, shoulders shaking with mirth. He stared at her lips, the rouge that lay on top of them almost gonet but they seemed soft and that cheerful smile that decorated her soft features creating a very alluring picture.

“Tommy?” she called. Shit, she caught me, he thought. Her mischievous eyes were back and seemingly hypnotized him as he barely registered her movements as she took the cigarette from his mouth and brought it to hers gently inhaling as she looked directly at him. She exhaled and then moved to put his cigarette back in his still-open mouth. Lucy then proceeded to caress the side of his face before bringing him down to her height to gently kiss his cheek.

Tommy looked deeply into her eyes when she pulled back still holding his face. “What was that for eh?”

“Charity,” she said teasingly before caressing his face. She started making her way to the front when he grabbed her hand. “See you around?” he asked, suddenly nervous, not sure why. Lucy squeezes his hand before saying “Not if I see you first” giving him one last wink before joining her uncle.

Tommy takes his cigarette from his lips and catches a glimpse of a slight lipstick stain around it where his lips had just been. He lets out a slight chuckle as he looks at the starry night sky.

A funny girl indeed.

#tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x oc #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky fookin blinders #battywrites #valentines1k #batty writes

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quinniefms · 1 year

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TESSA THOMPSON | THIRTY-SIX | CISFEMALE. welcome to san francisco, QUINN KELLEY! just to make sure, you go by SHE/HER, right? okay, great. i just have a few questions for you before i can let you go.. how long have you been here for? SIX YEARS. where are you currently living? SOUTH BEACH. what’s your current occupation? SOUS CHEF at/of ABACÁ but what’s your dream occupation? HEAD CHEF AT HER OWN PLACE. wow! interesting. is there a secret that we can keep between you and i? HER SON’S FATHER IS BACK IN HER LIFE, BUT SHE WANTS HIM OUT OF IT. lastly, this is a bit of a random question but … what’s your favorite song? MESS IS MINE by VANCE JOY & that’s all they wrote, friend! we can’t wait to see you around the golden city! WRITTEN BY MEL.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“i want to apologize to all the women i have called beautiful / before / i’ve called them intelligent or brave / i am sorry i made it sound as though / something as simple as what you’re born with / is all you have to be proud of / when you have broken mountains with your wit / from now on i will say things like / you are resilient, or you are extraordinary / not because i don’t think you’re beautiful / but because i need you to know / you are more than that.” — Rupi Kaur.

TRIGGER WARNING: mention of divorce, infidelity, pregnancy, child abandonment

BIOGRAPHY

Quinn Kelley was born in Dublin, Ireland to a family that just barely scraped by. Even if she never knew luxury, Quinn didn’t mind. The child was often lost in her own fantasy world — running through the fields behind the expanse of the family farm that the Kelley’s just barely got to keep. Her father sold the produce that they could bare to some of the markets in town, while her mother was a receptionist at a chain hotel in the city. Alongside her two older sisters ( wc !!! ), Quinn had no shortage of people to care for her and look after her, make her feel loved. That is, until her mother’s infedelity. When she was caught sleeping with her boss, it seemed like everything had gone up in flames — with her father filing for divorce not even a week later. Things moved faster than young Quinn could even blink, her sisters both grieving the loss of their parents marriage in their own way and it felt like slowly but surely, they were slipping away. The family would soon find themselves breaking to pieces — her father winning full custody of his three daughters. Soon after it was settled, her mother would move to the United States. Quinn was nine when she had to wave goodbye to the only life that she had ever known, clearly noticing that her mother relished in the freedom she now had. It was a pain that she never truly relieved herself of. Chicago. Now an ocean separated her and the life she wished she could have kept. When everyone was happy.

Quinn settled into their new life a lot slower than her two sisters, who both seemed to thrive in their new routine and the existences that they were keeping. At least, it appeared that way. The three that had once been thick as thieves had grown too far apart for her to ask. Each of them seemed to have their own skill where they bested each other — the eldest of the Kelley’s being a gifted academic, the middle child being a gifted musician. It took a while for Quinn to find her passion, but when she stepped into the kitchen to make herself dinner, a routine that would become very common after that singular night, she realized that she loved making… food. She would begin making herself elaborate meals with what she could find long into high school, soon beginning to cook for both herself and her sisters. It was this talent that would begin to bring her sisters back together, Quinn being the chef when her father had to work late. It was then she knew she wanted to make a career out of cooking, something she could clearly tell made people happy. While her acceptance letter to an esteemed culinary program in Italy came as a shock to her, it didn't to the rest of her family. She was off to her new home, to start a new life.

It was in culinary school where she would meet the man who she thought was the love of her life ( wc !!! ) who just so happened to be competing with her throughout their tutelage together. Internships, best in class, you name it. Much to his chagrin, Quinn usually won. Perhaps the first red flag should have been that their relationship was built on competition, but it seemed that both of them were oblivious. The two would get married shortly after Quinn turned twenty-six, staring at a positive pregnancy test four years into their marriage. Now thirty, both of them were both driven, each having separate careers after relocating to New York City. While Quinn tried to keep everything afloat, it proved to be too much of a burden for her to carry. When Nathaniel Isaac Parker was born, Quinn took one look at him and knew that she would never let anything hurt this sweet little boy. His first few months were quite quiet, that is, until Quinn answered a very distressing call that still chills her to the bone. Her husband had been cheating on her with a waitress from his restaurant, with the promise that he would be leaving Quinn for her. Within days, Quinn had packed up their lives and relocated to San Francisco, after winning full custody of Nathaniel. Life soon took a turn for the better once she accepted a sous chef position at ABACÁ, she began to make new friends, she got to watch Nathaniel grow up and then best of all -- her ex husband stopped calling.

That is, until her ex made a reappearance in her life -- begging for a chance to be a father. Begrudgingly Quinn has said yes, hoping to give their son the life that she never got. Her mother had been seemingly happy to leave her and her two sisters behind, but at least Nate's father was willing to try. Even if the thought of seeing him kills something inside of her, she still does it for her son.

HEADCANONS

Very quick to lose herself in her work - dozens of dishes before she even acknowledges the world or the people around her.

Living close to the beach has given her a sense of peace, some of her favorite memories are of her and Nate venturing there.

Nate is now six years old and a huge bundle of questions and joy. He charms everyone that he meets.

Very rarely ever found outside of the comfort of her home or the restaurant, has barely even thought about dating again ( even though I'd like to see someone catch her eye ).

Trust issues out the wazoo.

Her father has recently fallen into failing health and after he relocated to San Francisco a couple years ago, all three sisters actively pitch in to take care of him. He currently lives in an assisted living community about an equal distance between all three sisters homes.

Will occasionally let people call her Quinnie, but prefers just Quinn.

A kind-hearted person. A bit reserved, tries her hardest to be protective of her peace and usually refrains from letting people walk all over her. However, she tends to think of others before herself, no matter how hard she tries not to.

PLAYLIST

Everything to Everyone (Intro) - Renee Rapp.

Call Me - Blondie

Misunderstood - BANKS

We Begged 2 Explode - Jeff Rosenstock

Static - Steve Lacy

Cellophane - FKA Twigs

Bullet With Butterfly Wings - The Smashing Pumpkins

Sullen Girl - Fiona Apple

Us - Regina Spektor

Cigarettes and Coffee - Otis Redding

Bad Religion - Frank Ocean

Linger - The Cranberries

WANTED CONNECTIONS

Her two older sisters ( will be on the pain once I get my shit together ) !!!

Her ex-husband/father of Nate ( will be on the pain once I get my shit together ) !!!

Friends

Mom friends

Friends she cooks for

FWB's/Hookups ( former or current )

Love interest

Exes from San Fran - they could have dated for a long time or not for very long at all!

Customers

Coworkers

Any! I'm flexible and ready to right lots of super awesome stuff with you all.

IF YOU WANT ACCESS TO MY CONNECTIONS SPREADSHEET FOR ALL OF MY CHARACTERS, CLICK HERE.

#quinn kelley.#goldencity : intro #quinn kelley // about.

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journeydb · 2 years

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November 10 2021 Barcelona

Happy 21st Birthday, Elayna! Our beautiful, talented, brilliant, sweet, WONDERFUL niece has been a joy throughout her life and we are SO blessed to have her in OUR lives.

NOBODY has eyes like Elayna! If the eyes are truly the windows to the Soul then I believe she has a Spirit which is unlike any other I’ve ever known and truly amazing. Elayna is also a fabulous makeup artist and she practices on herself and isn’t afraid to try new things - hence the pink hair!

Elayna has the voice of an angel and also writes her own songs. She went to Gould Academy for high school and performed in MANY musicals and comedies. She is a really good actress and dancer, too. She excels as a writer and is also a hard worker. Elayna received almost a FULL scholarship to Trinity College in Hartford, Connecticut and has maintained excellent grades for the three and a half years she has been there. She’ll be graduating next May.

Elayna loves animals and they adore her too. They respond to her kindness and compassion and, like everyone else, they just like being around her. Bonnie and Clyde are siblings and were the CUTEST kittens. Now they are full grown and still love to sit on Elayna’s lap.

Elayna was a loving and caring big sister to Autumn and an adoring little sister to her big sister, Aimey. All the kids were very much affected by their parents’ divorce but, thankfully, Elayna was only five when it happened and she didn’t remember how mean her father had been to her mother and older siblings. Her life changed for the better when our sister, Fran, brought the kids to Bethel to live, where they had Aunt Kathi and Uncle John to watch over them and help them grow up.

Elayna has always been close to her cousins, especially Courtney, and those relationships have continued into adulthood. Elayna has many friends because she’s such a kind, considerate person and you can count on her to do what she says she’ll do. She is trustworthy.

I’ve missed out on a lot of our nieces’ and nephew’s lives, living in Colorado while they were all back east, but I did my best to stay close to them, visit them every year, and bring them to Colorado to be with us. Now that Aimey also lives in Colorado we see her family more than ever, thank goodness.

Being the third child is purported to be difficult and it hasn’t been easy for Elayna being in between her brother, Tucker, and her little sister, Autumn. Tucker picked on her a LOT, because she was often in her own little world, which I found endearing, but he couldn’t understand. She idolized him and wanted his approval and it was hurtful when he was so much kinder to Autumn, who was more like him than Elayna was, and with whom he could relate better.

When Tucker took his life in September, 2018, it was devastating for his family. Elayna had just started college and had to take time off to help her mother and deal with her own grief. She went back the next spring and took extra classes so she could graduate on time next spring. Autumn also was greatly affected by the death of her big brother and best friend and it was hard for her to concentrate on her studies but she worked hard and graduated from high school last June. We are all SO proud of these two young women and all they have accomplished. Autumn took some time off last summer to focus on herself and her relationship with her boyfriend, Sheyene. Now, with the grace of God, they are going to be parents in April!

Elayna has been through a lot in her short life and she has managed to stay the same, sweet, thoughtful person who knows her own mind and isn’t afraid to speak it. She’s strong, resilient, and hard-working and I know she’ll make a big difference in the world, because she already has made a difference in the lives of everyone who knows her.

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ashesandhackles · 3 years

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The Abandoned Boy And His Problematic Fathers: Snape with Voldemort & Dumbledore

"He and Voldemort and Snape, the abandoned boys, all found home here..” - Forest Again, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

This comparison line of Harry, Snape and Voldemort being abandoned boys is not an accident. There is an intentional parallel being made between three of them - not only in terms of their parallels with the Hallows (as Tumblr has astutely pointed out), but also the commonalities in their upbringing. Given that Harry empathises so deeply with both of them, I am going to argue one of Harry’s attributes was present in all of them. We know that as an abandoned boy with lack of male authority figures to model after, Harry strongly craved a father. Here is a meta by u/metametatron4 that tracks Harry’s feelings about James (and Snape) through the series.

In Voldemort’s case, Tom believes his father to be the magical one and keeps his father’s name until he could no longer prove that it was his father who gave him his “special” lineage. He goes as far as searching Hogwarts records for his father because in his mind, his mother was “weak” to die. Once he is forced to concede that his mother is the magical one, he chooses to emphasise her ancestry in a paternal sense - “Salazar Slytherin, greatest of Hogwarts four”, tying himself up in grandeur. He also killed his father and his own paternal side of the family, his source of rage and shame. He sheds his father's name and becomes someone else, only known by his "special" magical lineage - cutting off that undesirable part of himself. Voldemort’s reaction to both his parent’s abandonment is to be special in every way, and choosing to discard love and seek power and control - a place where he is not rejected at all.

Snape is different from both Harry and Voldemort is that he specifically rejects his abusive father, having known him. As a child, he is seen wearing his mother’s clothes, only with an overlong coat that might belong to his father on a hot sunny day. As per Pottermore, he occasionally got whipped - so one can assume the coat is to hide that. Harry identifies strongly to Snape wearing overlong clothes that don’t quite fit him - a clear sign of neglect, if anything else. The fact that he wears his mother’s smock (and is willing to comfortably wear it in private with Lily in the scene before Hogwarts express) is an interesting detail to me. It feels like a rejection of his father and a sense of identification with his mother. With a person who he is comfortable with, he cuts an "impressive figure" with his smock. We see this detail pop up again in his textbook - where he is proud of being “Half A Prince”, emphasizing his magical lineage, his refuge in a violent, neglectful home.

Snape rejects his father (implied to be a violent man) by also rejecting hypermasculinity - as he tells sneeringly to James Potter: “If you’d rather be brawny, rather than brainy-” and by mocking “foolish wand waving” and how Potions is much more complex than that ("bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses" - thanks for some sensual imagery, Snape :D). His skillset, with the exception of Sectumsempra, is further testament to his rejection of hypermasculinity: Potions (a witches’ brew), spying (again, noted to be something women were famous for in war), branches of mind magic such as Occlumency. He is also strongly associated with mother figures - Eileen Prince (by his own admission), Lily Potter, Narcissa Malfoy. He has a feminine Patronus, in memory of his love and devotion to Lily. The insults also thrown his way are also emasculating: “Snivellus” “a lapdog”, and Dumbeldore’s own “a basket dangling on the arm of Lord Voldemort”. So if he rejects his own father, who does he look to as a male figure to model himself after? After all, he does discard the smock quite eagerly when he gets on Hogwarts Express - so he is keen to perform masculinity.

But we see that teenage Snape and Adult Snape are entirely two different personas. Teenage Snape is anxious, twitchy and walks around like a spider. He swears, he is barely in control of his emotions, is often rendered incoherent when he is emotional and lashes out. And he lashes out in ways that is reflective of a power dynamic he models from home: he feels small, so he will look for someone else to make feel small.

Adult Snape, save for being around Harry where he regresses, is the opposite. He glides when he walks or "swoops like a bat" and if you see him in scenes apart from Harry’s, he is very in control of himself and his jabs are intended to discomfit rather than lashing out. (See the Bellatrix scene in Spinner’s End).

We don’t know too much about this phase of life - we can only speculate. Adult Snape has choice words to say when he witnesses Harry's lack of control over his emotions. He may have been speaking of himself: "Fools who wear their heart proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked so easily - weak people, in other words - they stand no chance against his powers!"

Speculation aside, what we do know is that teenage Snape shows signs of unstable identity, insecurity - all prime for grooming into a cult. He also shows a disorganised attachment style. His caregiver, his mother is too preoccupied by her own abuse to be there for her son - we see this in glimpses Harry sees in OOTP: " woman cowering" where a man shouts at her, and a young, neglected Snape cries in the corner. Children born in homes like this have trouble regulating their emotions, simultaneously displaying tendencies to aggressively lash out or show disassociative symptoms. Both of which Snape displays. Statistically, this is also seen more in low income households where economic instability and resulting domestic instability creates an unsafe environment for the kids to safely form ideas of their identity, or express emotions in healthy ways, modelling instead out of behaviour seen at home.

I believe Voldemort, as the man who has experimented with boundaries of magic in ways no one else has, is an attractive father figure for someone like Snape ( and Barty Jr. as well). After all, Snape spends his spare time inventing hexes, making great shortcuts to Potions. He has a genuine thirst for learning and is inventive and original. In SWM, we see that he has written far more longer answers than anyone else, he is poring over his paper after exams. Voldemort, as a man who pushed boundaries, is an attractive mentor who shows him a new path. Joining a cult not only gives you power and protection (one he desperately needs because of his social inferiority and as someone who is relentlessly bullied), but it also gives you an identity.

Cults usually instill a homogenous, stable identity centered around charismatic leader. Cults turn your unbearable feelings (sense of rejection, social inferiority), and externalise it and manage to a higher purpose. A cult acts as a safe container for people who cannot understand their trauma or overpowering feelings. As a boy with an unstable identity, it is easier for him to project on Voldemort and re-enact an attachment that he has rejected in early childhood: the one with his father. Voldemort also reinforces a world view that the system had taught a half blood working class boy with nowhere to go arrives at: "There is no good or evil. There is only power and those too weak to seek it".

And then, Voldemort does something Snape doesn't believe a father figure could do, something he cannot conform to or abide by - he threatens the only relationship in his life that he puts on a pedestal. To ensure Lily Potter’s survival beyond asking Voldemort (who he no longer trusts to keep his word), he goes to Dumbledore. Why doesn't he trust Voldemort to keep his word? We don't really know, but given the dynamics we see at play in the first chapter of DH, where Voldemort employs Legliemency to confirm the information from Snape, the trusted spy who at that point had killed Dumbledore - it is safe to say ruling through absolute control can only take you so far. Contrast this with his later scenes with Dumbledore, where Dumbledore trusts him with magic he does not trust himself with: "I am very fortunate that I have you, Severus" .

But before we get there, we see their first scene. In his very first scene with Dumbledore, there is a power dynamic established. He visibly shrinks from Dumbledore’s judgement: “you disgust me”. He is also "stricken" when Dumbledore says "perhaps we sort too soon" - indicating a need for Dumbledore’s approval and validation. (Dumbledore’s own reaction to Snape is interesting - he doesn’t express this kind of strong disgust with Fenrir Greyback in HBP, for example. Perhaps he sees something of himself in this man who lost his way?)

Their next scene together is a grief stricken Snape, who has turned his misery and self loathing inwards and wishes to die. Dumbledore is cold, harsh: “What use will that be to anyone? If you truly loved Lily Evans, your way forward is clear”. Once Snape accepts the path of atonement Dumbledore lays out for him, Dumbledore is demonstrably gentler with him and is even exasperated that Snape asks him to keep “the very best of him” between them.

Once Dumbledore becomes his new father figure, Snape’s loyalty to him is absolute. He will back up and defend Dumbledore where it is not even required - when people accuse Dumbledore in GOF of being unfair, Snape is quick to say: "Don't blame Dumbledore for Potter's lack of respect for school rules. Potter has been crossing lines ever since he first came" (Defending Dumbledore and insulting Harry, he has a talent lol). And at the end of GOF, he shows his Dark Mark to Cornelius Fudge, essentially outing himself as a former Death Eater, to back up Dumbledore's claims because Fudge was insulting him. Even in front of Bellatrix, he emphasises: "Dumbledore is a great wizard, yes he has - the Dark Lord acknowledges it".

He is also resentful of Dumbledore's trust in Harry with secrets that he is not privy to. He enjoys being Dumbledore's closest confidant..("why may I not have the same secrets?" "You trust him, you do not trust me"). It's a less intense version of Harry's "This isn't love, this mess he has left me in. He shared a damn sight of what he was thinking with Grindelwald than with me”. He angrily tells Fake Moody that Dumbledore happens to trust him and he "refuses to believe" he gave permission to search his office. Similarly, he tells Umbridge "jerkily" to ask Dumbledore why he doesn't have the DADA job. Snape is offended at any suggestions of Dumbledore's lack of trust in him.

He also has a similar disillusionment like Harry's with Dumbledore - "you have used me. I have spied for you, lied for you, all intended to keep Lily Potter's son safe and now you are telling me he is being raised like a pig for slaughter". All of this and yet, just like Harry, he chooses to do what Dumbledore would have wanted of him. He goes as far as committing a sort of patricide, just like his former father figure (who did it for different reasons) on the wishes of his current father figure.

And ultimately, he chose Dumbledore's plan of Greater Good rather than Lily's fierce intention of keeping her son alive. It’s also interesting that Dumbledore, a queer, non conforming man is what Snape ultimately chooses as a father /mentor to his path of atonement.

There is a cyclical projection of father among all three boys: Harry inadvertently projects a desire for a father figure on Snape when he wishes that the Half-Blood Prince was his dad. (Read more about Harry’s relationship with Prince in wonderful meta by @thedreamermusing here) Snape projects a wish for a father figure by projecting on to Voldemort. Ultimately, both of them project this desire onto Dumbledore, and it is Dumbledore who ends up being the ultimate guide and father figure for both of them, guiding them through their respective roles in the war.

Thank you to @thedreamermusing and pet_genius for the inputs for this post 🌻 here is a suggested reading from pet's treasure trove relevant to this meta: Death Eaters As A Cult.

#severus snape #hp meta #harry potter meta #character analysis #albus Dumbledore #lord Voldemort #tom riddle #the half blood prince #pro snape #snapedom #snape community #the abandoned boys

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entertainment · 4 years

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Entertainment Spotlight: Brandon Kyle Goodman

Brandon Kyle Goodman can currently be seen playing Deco in Netflix’s Feel the Beat, which follows a failed actress returning to her small hometown, who is roped into training a misfit group of young dancers for a big competition. Other acting credits include eager father-to-be Andy in Amazon’s Modern Love, as well as roles in People Just Do Nothing, Alive in Denver, Plus One, and Papi Chulo. Aside from acting, Brandon has found success as a writer for Netflix’s animated comedy series Big Mouth, which is set to return to Netflix in 2020 after an unprecedented three-season renewal. As a proud gay Black person, Brandon has recently emerged as a staunch advocate for the #BlackLivesMatter movement, actively speaking out against the injustices plaguing the African American community. He encourages his followers to donate to The Innocence Project, The Bail Project, NAACP, and Black Lives Matter.

What drew you to the role of brave, outspokenly queer Deco in Feel the Beat?

What drew me to the role was Deco’s fearlessness, as well as the movie’s choice to not center Deco’s story around his identity. He was allowed to be unapologetically queer without taking on an oppression-based narrative.

You are in the writing team for Netflix’s hugely successful Big Mouth. Can you tell us about how you got there and what it’s like writing for an animated series?

I was fortunate that the creators of Big Mouth considered reading a script of mine. We met a couple of times and discussed my experiences to determine if the writers’ room was the right fit. Thankfully it was and continues to be. Writing on an animated series like Big Mouth is truly a dream. It forces me to expand my imagination in a way live action doesn’t, while also strengthening my ability to tell impactful stories in new and exciting ways.

What inspired you to enter into the creative industries, and which came first for you—acting or writing?

I grew up with a minster for a grandmother and an actress for a mother, so creativity was ever-present in our household. More specifically, I watched two very talented women write for themselves. They blessed me with that tool. Even though I professionally started as an actor, as a middle schooler, my first love was writing. Acting soon followed. I’ve been fortunate to have many moments where they get to be linked together, and honestly, there’s nothing better.

You use your platforms to speak up and share your experiences as a Black person in America. Can you tell us a bit about how the response has been?

The response has been overwhelming and bittersweet. On the one hand, as a human being, there’s nothing better than feeling heard and seen. On the other hand, as a Black human being, it’s painful that it’s taken this long to be heard and seen, and quite honestly, there are a lot of people pretending they hear and see us. I choose to keep my focus and attention on the ones that really do—the people really doing the work and striving to do better, be better, and fix this abhorrent mess of a system.

In what ways does your activism influence your creative work?

My sheer presence on stage or on camera is activism. I’m Black and openly queer in an industry that doesn’t value Blackness or queerness, and especially not Black queerness. I pick my roles based not just on what I want to do but also on whether the role will be a portrayal that will amplify, elevate, and expand representation, or whether it’s a caricature. More times than not, it’s the latter, and those roles I turn down. Whenever I write, I write for myself and people like me. I write Black characters, POC characters, and, more specifically, Black queer characters, and I do it as fully as possible. I want to be seen as a full person, not just an accessory to the white lead. My activism is my creative work.

Which activists currently inspire you, and why?

There are so many, and they all inspire me for the same reason. They’re bold, they’re vulnerable, they’re smart, and they are committed to the amplification, elevation, protection, and equity of Black people: Alicia Garza, Patrisse Cullors, Opal Tometi, Sonya Renee Taylor, Tamika D. Mallory, Ashlee Marie Preston, Brittany Packnett Cunningham, Mila Jam, Tiffany Dena Loftin, Yves, and Kendrick Sampson, to name a few.

What advice would you give to someone who wants to get involved with advocacy but doesn’t know where to start?

Start in your community. Start at your place of work, your apartment building, your local businesses. Take it day by day. This is a lifelong commitment to life long change. It’s not going to get done in a day, a month, a summer, or a year. So, if you feel like you have to do everything, you’ll find yourself stuck and not making any change. But start with the three things you can commit to working on this month. If you’re feeling ambitious, maybe it’s this week. Remember, in addition to the protests, donations, petitions, phone calls, there are internal things you need to do. What are you reading? What are you watching? What POVs are you exposing yourself to? It all counts.

On the subject of advice, do you have any for young queer Black folx who want to get into acting/writing in America today?

My first bit of advice is to get into it! We need you. We need your voice, we need your experience, we need you to take up space in these creative spaces. My second bit of advice is to be yourself. Work towards showing up fully wherever you go. Obviously, depending on where you are, there are things you have to do to maintain your safety. Your safety is important. But how do you show up in your mind? Are you free in your mind, in your soul? Are you fully yourself in your spirit? Get to know yourself every day, it will make you a stronger actor and writer. It will bring an unmatched authenticity to your work.

What would you change about the industry if you could?

I would change the white supremacist system of doing things. I would change the value we place in whiteness as the ideal. I would change the lack of inclusion on screen and behind the scenes. I would change the all-white executive suites that think they’re diverse because they have a singular person of color on their team. I would eradicate the violent grip on the keys to “the gate”. I would create systems that mentored and shepherded new talent, especially Black, POC, and queer talent—especially from places outside of LA and NY. I would find ways to empower more artists having the ability to create and share their work in a global way. I would ensure that Blackness was valued and treated with the respect, reverence, and honor that it deserves.

Describe each of the following in one word: Who you are, what you value the most, and what you’d be if you were a food item.

Brandon. Spirit. Mac & cheese.

Thanks for taking the time, Brandon! Feel the Beat is now streaming on Netflix.

Photos: Leslie Alejandro

#entertainment spotlight #blackexcellence365 #brandon kyle goodman #feel the beat #big mouth

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havethetimeofyourstyles · 3 years

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Chapter One.

a/n: welcome to the first chapter of wtsgd! i’m so excited for you all to read this story and for what’s to come. please please please support content creators bc we’re doing this for free and it takes up a lot of energy to put out stories. so reblog, leave feedback, and send a message to motivate and support them. happy reading everyone <3

SERIES MASTERLIST | word count: 6.4k

come talk to me about wtsgd! i’d love to know your thoughts!

March 4, 2017

The trunk was filled with heavy boxes that were labeled with thick black sharpie, which didn’t seem to leave Luciana’s senses; and one too many suitcases filled with her many articles of clothing that she couldn’t get rid of—no matter how hard she tried—since she was too much of a hoarder and every piece of clothing seemed to have a lost memory in them that she tried very hard to think of, which only meant that it was worth keeping.

A droplet of sweat leaked down the side of her face due to her nonstop packing and heavy-lifting from her childhood room upstairs to her dad’s car in the driveway. It didn’t help that the sun was beaming down at her with every move like she was on center stage, in front of the spotlight, but it made much more sense for the sun to do that because that’s where she belonged: on stage.

Moving to Brooklyn, New York from Cambridge, Massachusetts during, what felt like, the coldest but the sunniest day of March wasn’t the smartest move—to be fair, Luciana was never one to make a smart move, anyways—but it was one that needed to be done. Plus, all the lifting seemed to have warmed her up.

Her destination, or now, home, in New York was one that she’d been anticipating for a while now. She had auditioned for the role as Kim in Miss Saigon on Broadway in November, and she’d gotten a callback in January for the role as the second Kim, meaning she would be on rotation to perform every week or two weeks, so the main Kim could rest. But she would still have to go to rehearsals and be on the side of the stage watching the show just in case she needed to jump in at the last minute.

It wasn’t her ideal way of playing the main lead, but nonetheless, she was grateful for the opportunity, and she would take any chance that was thrown at her to not only take another step towards her dream, but also another learning opportunity to make her a better actress.

Little Luci would’ve been so proud of the present Luci because it’d been her dream ever since she was younger, to be on stage and eventually, be on the big screen. Although she was far from completing her dream of being a face in Hollywood, this was a step that would take her to where she wanted to be in the future, and for that, she was proud of herself.

As a child, Luci had been in various commercials; from being the kid that played with slime and had no lines but to just put on a big smile while the sticky substance ran through her small hands, to being the daughter in a car commercial with one line that said “Are we there yet?” with a groan and a face of exhaustion as if she were the one driving the car. She hoped that these commercials would have someone recognize her talent, to cast her as a Disney star, but that would require moving to California, which her parents were wary of.

The commercials stopped when she reached middle school. Her early adolescent years consisted of an abundance of attitude and mood swings; Luci was a very tough and determined kid. Her love for acting had grown into a big balloon that was let go and on its way into the galaxy where no one could reach it—where no one could mess with her achieving her dream.

She would always stand in front of her white wooden framed mirror—with delicately painted colorful flowers around the border—reciting lines that she heard from a television series or the films that she watched, and she would write them down in her blue notebook. Sometimes, her parents would let her search the script up if it was available online. But oftentimes, she would test and challenge her memorization, and listen to it by ear; testing her mind, and eventually, her memorization skills were immaculate by the age of eleven.

It was perfect timing because by the time she was in middle school, she was able to snatch the roles she wanted when her school’s drama department held school plays. Her family thought that she would start to hate being on stage since school plays always ran until late evening, but being part of the productions had only enhanced her love for her talent, and it only prepared her for a quarter of what her future may look like.

All in all, from a very young age, she always knew that she wanted to become an actress. The spotlight or the center of the camera was where she always craved to be.

And she was finally making that dream come true.

A black Toyota Camry pulled into the space behind the car that was filled with her belongings. Ren and Beatrice, Luci’s lovely parents, both get out of the car with a pink box of donuts—a snack for the road and for when she gets to her new apartment.

“Ready, Lucky?” Beatrice asked, rubbing her daughter’s back. She was quite bummed to see Luci leave her childhood home, but she’s proud to see Lucky Luci chase her dreams. She was, after all, twenty-five and was bound to move out at some point, but to see it actually happen made Beatrice quite emotional.

“Ma, please, don’t cry…” Luci frowned as Beatrice pressed her fingertips to the corners of her eyes. She wrapped her arm around her mother’s shoulder, comforting her. “You’re all coming to New York in a month, right? To watch me on stage?” Luci asked, reassuring herself that she would see her family in a different state to rescue her from her loneliness.

Luci was an independent woman. She could do tasks by herself, go places alone, and she wouldn’t have a problem with it; she enjoyed the company of herself. But to know that at some point she might be alone—that everyone had left her behind or forgotten about her—was what scared her. She needed to know that the people who loved her unconditionally wouldn’t forget about her.

“Of course we’re going!” Ren exclaimed with a smile that Luci was going to miss seeing everyday. “We can’t miss our baby on the Broadway stage. If we could, we’d go to every damn show that you’re in, but that would be a lot of gas, no?”

She chuckled, nodding her head. She felt tears pricking her eyes at how supportive her parents were—they’ve always been. If she could, she would take them with her to New York, but her one bedroom apartment and their work said otherwise.

“Now, Lucky, don’t cry.” It was Beatrice’s turn to comfort her daughter. Like any parent, when they see their child cry, it breaks their heart and they cry too. “We’re gonna see you real soon. You can always come back anytime you want. We’re just a phone call away and we’ll pick you up,” Beatrice said between sniffles. The mother and daughter were embracing so tenderly and comfortingly—enjoying every last moment together until they got to see each other again.

“Jeez, you’re both the same—always crying!” Ren interrupted, making the two women laugh; and he was glad they found what he said amusing because he couldn’t handle the sad moment. “C’mon here, my Lulu.” Luci settled into her father’s arms, hugging him tightly. She’s always been her dad’s girl, despite having a close relationship with her mother, her relationship with her father was something that felt like home; he always knew what to say and when to say it. It helped that she was the female version of him. “You’re gonna be the best star out there, I’m sure of it. Now, I want you to have fun, alright? The fame, the fortune, the big city…it doesn’t amount to anything if you’re not having the time of your life” He comfortingly rubbed Luci’s back, holding her in a warm and tight squeeze.

Luci smiled at her father’s words. She was always a bit hard on herself when she would mess up or forget a line or a movement that correlates to a specific line in her script. When she was younger, she would beat herself up for a sliver of a moment; she would cry into her pillow—sobs loud enough that they were heard from downstairs. Luci would think that she wouldn’t become a well-known actress just because of the minor forgetfulness her mind had presented. But Ren would gently tap on her ocean blue door, letting himself in because he knew his daughter didn’t have the energy to get up and let him in, and he would sit beside her, gently urging her to sit up with him. Once she complied, after many groans of refusals, she would be glad she did because her father looked deeply into her eyes—and it was like looking into the reflection of clear and clean water—and told her she was a star. It was only three words, but those three words reminded her to never give up and get up when she would hit the pavement of what she felt like were her fallen hopes and dreams.

Ren would then end it with a statement of advice that had always lingered in her mind, resonating to the silent and harshful words that she tells herself. ‘Nothing will amount to anything if you’re not having the time of your life.’

A rush of gratitude settled upon her as her eyes became glossier by the seconds she was in Ren’s arms. Beatrice looked at her greatest treasures fondly, a smile appeared on her face only for it to be replaced by a look of confusion.

“Where is that damn brother of yours? He said he was going to be here at ten!” Beatrice interrupted the sweet moment she was having with her father, making them disconnect from the hug—just as Ren did with Luci and Beatrice.

Speaking of the devil, her dear brother was making his way towards home on the side of the street, wearing a grey sweatshirt that was stained with his sweat as his earphones were nestled in his ears, loudly playing music. He loudly sang along to some rap song, breath staggered as he rapped along with his hands.

Nathan smiled once he stepped foot onto the driveway as he took out his earphones, seeing his family look at him vigilantly. Luci laughed, shaking her head.

“Hey, there’s our superstar, little Ana!” Nathan opened his arms, ready to hug you but she quickly stopped him, curving her spine backwards to deny his hug. Ana had been one of the many nicknames her family had called her when she was growing up from the second half of her name, but Ana seemed to have stuck with Nathan as no one else really called her that, so it was his own personal nickname for her.

“Ew, please, do not hug me.” Her face wrinkled in disgust from the spell of her brother’s sweat from his run. Nathan chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes before turning towards his parents.

“Ooh, donuts-”

Beatrice slapped the back of his hand before he even got a chance to open the pink donut box. “Not until you shower and change. Lulu needs to be in Brooklyn by three!”

“Ow, mother!” Nathan whipped his hand away from Beatrice’s burning slap, although he was just playing around and being dramatic. “But fine, alright. The star always gets what she wants, am I right?” He dropped his head towards Luci, sighing before he hurried inside the house to take a quick shower and change.

Luci giggled, telling her parents that she would be right back to go up to her room to check if she’d gotten everything, even though she knew that she had everything, she just needed to reminisce alone for a moment.

Her feet took her up the wooden stairs, where she, for some unknown reason, always spent her time sitting on as she leaned her back against the wall and read or drew. Nathan always found it weird of her when they were doing homework when they were younger, but it was just one of the many fun anecdotes he could tell reporters if he’s asked about their childhood.

Pushing open her ocean blue door that she never changed because she loved the color, she was met with the emptiness of what was once her sanctuary. Despite the paint on the wall changing, the replacement of furniture, and rearrangement of her childhood room, Luci could still see the baby pink walls where she hung up various posters of her celebrity crushes when she was eight. She could still see herself walking over to her Cinderella white wooden dresser as she pulled out an inflatable microphone from her drawer before she walked over to her bed to sing her heart out with her cousin. In the corner of her room was her mirror that she painted colorful flowers along the border when she was younger, and she definitely did not want to change or get rid of it; it wasn’t difficult to stir up a memory when she was in front of that mirror because up until now, she was always reciting her lines to her own reflection until the late night.

All of these memories that Luci held within her heart would help her ground herself—remind her where she came from. No matter where her career took her, she would always be the girl that was firstly known in her room, crying, laughing, and acting within the four baby pink walls until she was sixteen, and then it changed to an ecru white. The feeling of nostalgia clutched her chest, and for the second time today—not even noon, yet—she found herself crying.

She silently sobbed in her sanctuary. Her chest felt tight, like her heart was grasping onto the memories, begging her to not leave, to not move on. But moving on would mean being stuck, and she didn’t want to feel stuck—she just never wanted to be in one place where the walls would slowly feel like they were closing in on her. She didn’t want to be in one place and eventually hated it, so for that, she had to move on.

A soft knock was heard from the outside of her bedroom, making Luci turn around hastily. She found Beatrice standing in the doorway, warmly smiling at her daughter, and keeping the tears at bay because she needed the comfort of her mother more than her mother’s tears.

“My Lucky Star…” Beatrice walked into the room, welcoming Luci into her arms. “You okay?”

Luci deeply inhaled and exhaled as she calmed herself down from her cries. “I’m alright. It’s just hard saying goodbye to this place—to my room.”’

“Oh, Lulu. You don’t need to say goodbye. I know you’ll be coming back here soon, anyways. I know you love home too much to completely stay away.” Beatrice was subtly trying to remind Luci about her love for her hometown, for her home, but her words also were trying to remind her about that certain love for her home and to never forget that love so she doesn’t stray away because Beatrice was simply afraid Luci would never want to come back once she discovered the luxury of her career. And even though she knew her Lulu wasn’t one to forget about her family, Beatrice would never admit her fear.

Luci sniffled, wiping her tears away as she pulled away from her mother’s embrace. “Yeah, I know. Just…doesn’t feel real that I’m leaving.”

“Sure, you’re leaving, but you’re going off to do bigger and better things. You were never one to stay in one place, physically and mentally—you were always moving, always loved learning more. And I’ve always been so intrigued and interested in how your mind works.”

“Ma…” The waterworks seemed to be the highlight of the move.

“I’m serious! I’m so genuinely proud of you. You’ve been keeping your talent—and I don’t mean ‘high school plays’ talent. I mean your Broadway, Hollywood, Academy winning talent. Now, you get to showcase your light in front of thousands of people.” Beatrice always had a way of boosting Luci’s self-esteem, making her ego a tad bit more bigger than it already was. She didn’t mind if her self-esteem had skyrocketed into the galaxy of her dreams, but she always reminded Luci that being humble and kind always outweighed being obnoxious and arrogant. “Now, enough with these tears. You’ve got a road trip to New York. C’mon, now.”

They made their way downstairs and out the door where Ren and Nathan were talking about the latest basketball game of the Celtics. The trunk was closed, and the only thing waiting was Luci herself.

“There she is! Ready?”

Luci took a deep breath, turning her head to look back at the pastel yellow house that had kept her safe for the past twenty-five years. From here, she knew everything was going to change. Whether it’d be for the good or if things would go downhill from here? She didn’t know; all she knew was that she was going to be doing what she loved and she was going to have the time of her life doing it.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

The state of Connecticut seemed to pass by quickly from the car as Nathan drove at a decent seventy miles per hour; the state vanished just as quickly as when they entered.

Luci mindlessly looked out the window, thinking about everything and nothing at once as she drowned out the music playing through the speakers of the car and Nathan’s voice singing along.

The cars passing by, the bystanders, and the locals filled the streets and highways, making her wonder what all of these people’s stories were—wondering if they lived in this city or if they were just stopping by to visit, or if they’re just going through the state to get to the one next door just as she was. Maybe she’s had an encounter or simply passed by them on the street in a world that seemed too large but small at the same time. She always pondered on whether everyone else thought the way she thought—if they wondered what her story was or the people around them.

The world is an interesting place and there were so many intriguing people out there, making her more excited by the minute as she takes on this new adventure in her life that would be completely life changing. Luci’s going to be meeting so many new people that, she would hope, have an impact on her personal life or career.

“Nervous?” Nathan broke the comfortable silence between them.

Luci raised her brows and curled her lips into her mouth. “A bit.”

He nodded, thinking for a moment. Nathan was always one to think before he spoke, and it was a quality that some people needed to learn how to do. He quickly learned that lesson when he was in high school; one of his friends, Johnny, and him were going back and forth joking around with one another. And for some odd reason, teenage boys liked to joke around about fucking everything, so Nathan had said “Yeah, I fucked your mom, what about it?” without thinking. Johnny stayed silent, the rest of their friends were waiting for his comeback, but they only received tears that glossed over his eyes before he ran off to a different part of campus, away from the lunch tables. Nathan found him behind the orchestra building with his face pressed on his kneecaps, crying. Later, he found out that Johnny’s mother had passed away before their sophomore year started and he hadn’t told anyone, which left Nathan quite speechless, but it was a lesson that he learned: to think before anything comes out of his mouth.

“I know you’ll do great. You were born to do this, born to be on stage. Everything you do is to greater your experience and opportunities. All the mistakes you’re gonna make, which we both know you’re gonna make, they’re gonna be learning lessons for you to continue doing what you’re good at doing; the mistakes are there so you can better yourself,” he reassured, occasionally glancing at you briefly before averting his eyes back onto the highway.

Luci smiled, never taking her eyes off her older brother. She leaned closer to the middle console, where his right arm was resting on the padded console. Hugging his arm tightly and resting her cheek on his shoulder, she accepted and appreciated his advice, his words. They made her heart fill up with so much gratitude and love, insanely grateful and happy that she had such an amazing and supportive family who always knew the right things to say when they could sense her nerves and anxieties powering through the roof.

“You’re gonna kill it out there. This is just a step towards where you wanna go, where you actually wanna be.”

She nodded, looking to her right as they quickly passed the ‘Welcome to New York’ sign from the state line of Connecticut and New York, and it was the sign indicating her new home.

Nathan pulled into the apartment’s parking garage, entering in with the code that the complex gave Luci on the silver keypad as the two watched the automatic gate arm swing up to the side, and Nathan entered the parking structure, parking in one of the many spaces available.

Luci excitedly got out of the car, rushing to the trunk where Nathan had opened it from inside the car. Unfortunately, she had forgotten to bring the hand dolly to help carry the boxes, which meant that the siblings were going to have to carry the many boxes she packed by her own hand and strength. But luckily, some of them weren’t that heavy; most of the items in the brown boxes were kitchenware and she figured she could just drag those.

One by one, they took one box each and headed for the elevator, where it took them to her apartment floor—floor four. Luci grabbed the keys from her purse that contained two copper keys hanging on one single silver loop and a small keyless sensor, and she unlocked her navy blue door, revealing her new apartment.

When she entered, she was met with a door across the entrance that she would use for her coats and shoes, things that she would need when she’s rushing out the door. Going through the small hallway in from the entrance, it led her to another small hallway to her left where her bedroom and guest bathroom was; and to her right, it would take her to the kitchen and living space. With four big windows with black window frames, the natural light really came in, making her place brighter for saving electricity.

Walking in and putting the boxes against the black cabinets in the kitchen, she immediately fell in love with the space, her space. Despite already taking a tour of the apartment a few months prior to her official move in day, it felt different being there for the second time because she now knew that this place was hers. She saw it in a different light, and she was already anticipating the memories she was going to make in her new home. The place was empty; and with every step and every noise from her mouth, the room would echo, and she loved it. There was something satisfying about the echo in an empty space that was hers, like she wanted to furnish the hell out of it, but at the same time, she didn’t mind the echo.

“This is your new home.” Nathan put an arm around Luci’s shoulder. He got a bit emotional seeing his baby sister grow up and move away from home, but he was excited for all of the experiences and memories she was going to make. Luci looked up at him, not saying anything but smiling as she was speechless. Nathan could practically feel the excitement run through her and all he did was chuckle at her speechlessness. “C’mon, let’s go get the rest of the boxes.”

For the next fifteen minutes, Luci and Nathan hauled the boxes from the car, to the elevator, and down the hallway to her apartment. There were about four more boxes left in the trunk, and they would’ve been finished by now if they hadn’t been taking breaks.

Nathan’s phone rang as he was sitting on the floor, leaning against the cabinets of the kitchen across from Luci who was sitting in the corner where her dining table would be.

“Hello?” Answered Nathan. “What? Tonight? I’m in New York. I’m helping my little sister move here. Uh, okay. Sure. Bye.” He groaned, standing up.

“Who was that?” Luci asked, nosy as she was.

“That was one of the board members at Mass General Hospital.” Luci’s eyes widened. “They just asked me if I could come in tonight to teach and supervise the new residents.” Nathan was a general doctor working in the Emergency Room as Mass General back in Boston. He’s always wanted to teach with all the knowledge he’s stored in his brain—always wanting someone to learn a thing or two when they spoke to him, and this was his chance.

“Holy shit, that’s amazing, Nate!” Luci stood up, excited for him.

He started to breathe a bit heavily and Luci immediately took notice; she could practically feel the nerves coming out of him, the same nerves she felt while going in for an audition. “Yeah, I actually have to leave, like, right now.”

“Hey, hey.” She quickly stopped him from running out of the building and out of his mind. “Come here—breathe with me for a second.” She held onto his wrists gently.

“Luci, I have to-”

He pulled away, but she tugged him back. “You’re going to drive yourself through the highway, and who knows what will happen, you might get pulled over and you won’t make it to the hospital. So, just take sixty seconds to breathe with me.”

For the remainder of the time that they had together, they took some deep breaths. She spoke encouraging and uplifting words to him to calm down his nerves and anxieties that he seemed to drive himself over a cliff for, and it seemed to work as Nathan’s shoulder’s weren’t so tense and the grip on her hands had loosened.

The two of them walked down to the parking garage where Nathan took down the last four boxes and placed them by the entrance of the complex. He was adamant on helping her get the last few boxes up to her apartment, but she shrugged it off, telling him that she was able to carry them and that he needed to leave because he’s most likely going to hit traffic during rush hour.

“Call me if you need anything, okay? I mean it. I will drive here in a heartbeat.”

“I will, I will-”

“Just not tonight,” he joked. “This is the highlight of my career.” His smile was so bright that it was like he was a little kid on Christmas again who just received a Hot Speed set from Santa.

Luci laughed, hugging him goodbye. “And call me if you need anything too. I’ll miss seeing you everyday,” she admitted, a slight frown on her face. She thought she’d have the entire day with Nathan, but it was cut short due to his work but she wasn’t mad about that at all because she knew there'd be plenty of times when he would drive down to walk along the New York streets and see her perform.

“I’m gonna miss you too, Ana. But I love you and I’ll see you next month!” He hurried into his car, and Luci watched him as he pulled out of the driveway, waving at the rear view mirror to say one last ‘see you later’ to his little sister.

Walking back to the curb where all of the boxes were set, Luci picked one up to test how heavy it was and she barely made it upright without almost hurting her back, so she put the box down to take a proper breather. She decided to drag the box closer to the door of the complex—which saved her a few steps without completely dropping the box that was labeled ‘glass plates’—and pulled the handle of the door, only to find it completely locked. There was a slight panic that flew through her until she realized that she needed her keyless tag that she had to press against the pad on the wall to get inside the complex, so she blew out a sigh of relief before reaching down to her pocket for her key, and with just her luck, her keys weren’t in her pocket or with her at all. Then she started to panic again.

Luci quickly walked out of the parking garage and to the front of the building where the leasing office was to find them closed, which was odd because it was Saturday, but apparently their servers were down so they just decided to take the entire day off. She rolled her eyes annoyingly, walking back to the garage in a fast manner because she didn’t want anyone to take her boxes, and so she figured that she could just wait until someone left the complex or arrived. She even left her phone at her place, so it wasn’t like she could call anyone to help her, but some sort of entertainment would help the time go by quicker.

Sitting on the curb in the garage, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, and humming the melody from the Miss Saigon soundtrack, an hour goes by until she sees someone walk past the automatic gate barrier, heading towards the entrance where he opened the door with his tag. Luci sprinted towards the door, calling out for help.

“Wait, wait!” The man turned around confusingly, taking his AirPod out of one ear. She caught up, taking deep breaths as she waved at the man. “Sorry, I’ve been out here for an hour and I completely forgot my key.” He didn’t say anything but stared at her, wondering why he’s never seen this woman before. The apartment complex really only had four floors, and he’s sure that he’s seen everyone who’s lived here. She noticed that he looked down at the boxes and back at her. “Oh, I just moved in.” He nodded more understandingly. “Do you mind holding the door for me?”

“Sure.” Was the first thing he told her before stepping aside to hold the door. She took another deep breath, getting into the correct form so she doesn’t throw her back out, and began to lift the heavy box. He noticed her struggling, and he felt foolish for not offering his help in the first place when he noticed the four boxes on the cement. “Here, sorry, let me help with that. Get the door, yeah?” Luci’s heart flipped once she heard his deep, accented voice before she gratefully thanked him and he grabbed the box from her, replacing her hands with his and the slightest brush of their fingers made her flustered; he held the box tightly to his chest without much struggle.

“Yeah, let me just get this one.” Luci grabbed a much lighter box that had all of her shoes, and held the door for him with her foot as he made his way inside of the building and to the elevator. He pressed the button with the arrow pointing up, and luckily, they didn’t have to wait for more than five seconds before the bell at the top chimed and the stainless steel doors opened.

With the heavy box in his hands, he still let Luci walk in first, which made her smile and he followed in as she pressed with the bold ‘4’ printed on it. He held the box in between his chest and the other end of the bar on the wall as they waited in silence as the elevator lifted them up to her apartment floor, and she brushed past him when he lifted his arm, gesturing her to go first.

Her front door was closed but it was unlocked, which only made sense, so she opened her door, putting the box next to the entrance and politely asking the man to put it next to the one you put down.

“Thank you so much, really. You have no idea how much I appreciate your help.”

“It’s no problem. I was the same when I moved here too—forgot my keys and was locked out.” He related to make her feel lighter about the situation since it was an honest mishap.

“Did you go to the leasing office?” She asked curiously.

“Yeah, but they were closed.”

“They’re closed today too! It’s like they do that on purpose whenever someone new moves in.” The man chuckled, scratching the back of his neck.

She hadn’t gotten a proper look at him since she was too distracted by trying to get into her building, but just by one real look at him, he was very attractive—probably too attractive to where she couldn’t think straight. He was wearing a pastel yellow and white striped button down that was a bit flowy and open, showing his white tank underneath that was tucked into his black skinny jeans. His tank top was low enough, exposing a patch of chest hair and his necklace that rested against his skin, in between his swallow tattoos just below his collarbones. Rings hugged his long fingers on both hands as he held two brown paper bags from Trader Joes. He was handsome, that’s for sure, and she felt like she was going to compare his beauty to all the other men that she was going to encounter in the future.

“They’re not very good at going into work, but if you give them a call then it’s like they’re a 24/7 help center.”

Luci nodded, chuckling. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’ll help you with the last boxes.” Before she was about to protest and tell him that he didn’t have to help her anymore because she was sure the last ones were light, he made his way towards the elevator and she quickly followed.

To her surprise, one of the boxes was heavier than the other and she was glad that the man was able to carry it for her. They took the boxes up to her apartment, stacking it on top of the ones that were set down before she thanked him gratefully again.

“I really appreciate all your help.” She smiled, leaning against the doorframe.

“Not that I’m doubting your strength or anything, but how were you supposed to get those boxes up to your apartment?” He asked softly, not wanting to offend her by his words.

“Oh, my brother was supposed to help me, but he had to go back home for an emergency at work.” The man nodded, seeming that was the most acceptable answer, not like he was searching if she was lying. “But thank you for your help. You’re a true lifesaver,” she said with a soft smile on her face. Her tone was a bit flirty than she wanted it to be, but it naturally came out.

“It’s not a problem. I’ll see you around.” Luci hadn’t closed her door yet, but she found out that he was literally her neighbor on the opposite side of the wall. He didn’t even have to take two steps to get to his place—all he had to do was turn around and he was home. She smiled at the thought of that, glad that her neighbor was already so kind to her.

As he was fumbling with his keys, he eventually got his door unlocked, and Luci was itching to ask what his name was—maybe make her first friend during her first day living in the big city. The man felt his neighbor's eyes on him, burning through the back of his head, so he turned around at the same time she spoke.

“Uh, hey,” Luci called out. He was looking over his shoulder, pursing his lips as he raised his brows. “I was wondering if…you’d like to have dinner with me tonight? Y’know, to thank you for all your help and practically saving me while I was stranded.” She chuckled, playing with the tips of her fingers as she looked at him with hope.

He thought the invitation was nice, but…“It’s okay, really. I, uh, have plans already tonight,” he admitted honestly because he doesn’t make a habit of being dishonest.

Luci had some thick skin—she grew it throughout the years, and she had always been pretty confident. So many people would think that she could handle rejection well because she’s auditioned for many roles in her lifetime, and had been rejected for most of those roles. But the rejection that her neighbor handed to her so respectfully and politely was one that hit her the most, and she didn't know why.

Curling her lips into her mouth as she felt the pang of her heart sinking into her chest, she nodded and placed a small smile onto her face.

“Have fun tonight, then. I’ll see you around.” She grinned, hiding the slight bit of pain that she felt. He nodded, walking inside his apartment as she was in her doorway as well. “Oh, I’m Luci, by the way.” She introduced herself, feeling like she should have done that ten minutes ago, but it had slipped her mind.

The corner of the man’s mouth turned up into a sly smirk, and she nearly felt herself fall as she gripped the door handle tightly. It was enough to make the pain in her chest disappear, and all thoughts of the rejection that she would think about for the rest of the night vanished.

“Nice to meet you, Luci. I’m Harry.”

With that, Harry closed his door, putting a barrier between him and Luci, who was still standing in her doorway. She let out the longest sigh of her life, feeling like she’d been constricting herself from breathing properly for the last ten minutes.

Luci closed her door and leaned against it, looking down at the boxes that were resting by her feet. She softly smiled, her cheeks were starting to get warm, and she was fully aware that Harry was the cause of it.

come talk to me about your thoughts and feelings! hope you all enjoyed the first chapter, thank you for reading <3

ty to @sunflowers-styles for beta reading!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles series #harry styles x oc #harry styles fic #harry styles ff #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #boyfriend!harry #harry styles writing #harry styles solo #actress!oc

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dialux · 3 years

Note

I’ve been going on a reading binge of all your Tolkien Women fics, and I cannot stop thinking about Indis. As a consequence I’ve created a headcanon that hurts my heart and I am going to inflict it upon you because this is clearly your fault.

Indis is one of those people just meant to be a parent, it fits her so well everyone knew it was just a matter of time before she became one. And once she gets married she tries so hard to be there for Feanor despite her own grief, but he won’t let her in. She has her kids and everyone congratulates her on having four (four!!) wonderful children, but in her heart she has five. Because Feanor might not have let her into his heart, but she certainly let him into hers, and she will always think of him as her eldest son.

It will haunt her to the end of all days and beyond, that he was always her son but she could never truly be his mother, and on her bad days she thinks that every catastrophe and death of the first age can be laid at her feet for not succeeding in the one thing everyone said was her speciality.

Okay, so a) fuck you, b) fuck you, c) fuck you. This story is basically just saying that, only in more euphemistic terms, anon.

...

Once, there were three: a woman with fair hair, a man with fair eyes, a woman with fair skin.

...

The woman with fair skin is captured and taken by the Dark One to his fortress, where she languishes for long weeks in grief and agony. She is not turned, even as those captured alongside her become evil beings, twisted and gruesome and cruel. Melkor wonders why this woman- this limpid-eyed, weeping girl- can withstand what no other has managed.

He does not get the chance to find out.

The woman with fair hair storms Utumno. She drags her sister out alongside whoever is left of their people. But the fair-skinned woman collapses only a few days’ from the chill of Utumno, and she shows her sister the secret she expended all her fea upon: a child, a fair-haired, fair-eyed, fair-skinned girl.

Intyale the Fair-Haired buries her sister Indis in a cave of glittering light. Then she takes the child down to her people, and she bids her brother, fair-eyed Ingwe, to watch their niece. Indis he names her, for the mother she will never know, and he raises her as his own daughter, this girl who bears the brightest things of all his family.

...

She is the daughter of all three of them. Of Indis the Slain, and Intyale the Bright-Speared, and Ingwe the Grand. Indis bears one woman’s name and another woman’s steadiness and a man’s strength. She is the princess of the Vanyar. She will always be that.

She will always remember how desperately her mother fought to keep her alive. Hidden in Utumno, chanting song after song of hiding and cleaving and darkness, straining for one more moment- one more moment- to keep the little babe at her breast alive- defying Melkor himself-

The Vanyar suffer the greatest of the losses to the Dark One before ever Orome comes to them. They- none of them, not from the eldest down to the youngest child- will ever trust Melkor ever again.

She was born in grief.

The Doom that Namo places- it is shocking, it is pitiless, it is cruel. But then Alqualonde still rings with the laments of the Teleri. But then, Finwe is dead. Melkor has taken not just one from Indis’ life.

She was born in grief, and, as one by one her children too learn that taste, she wonders: Perhaps the doom is my own.

...

When she is very young, she asks Intyale: What did I get from my mother?

And Intyale- this, Indis remembers very, very well- had paused, and considered, and then said, Her silence.

...

From Indis her mother, she receives silence. From Ingwe, she receives the knowledge of ruling and leadership. From Intyale-

-from Intyale, she receives the strength of will to remain unbowed.

...

Indis loves Miriel with the kind of love of a calf for its mother: overwhelmingly, adoringly, all-consumingly. She spends hours with Miriel, learning to weave those tapestries, hands tangled in thread of silk and cotton and wool, eyes affixed to the wall just as often as she watches the silver spirals of Miriel’s hair.

The Noldor tend to craft to show their passion for the world, but Indis has nothing of that: she is a fair dancer, a well-versed scholar, a singer of surpassing talent. None of them call to her more than the rest.

She aids Miriel often, now that the building of Tirion is almost complete. Indis enjoys sitting with her and with Finwe, sipping a salty-hot tea as the light changes from gold to silver; she often falls asleep there, slumped over in her chair, and returns only at the second Mingling to Ingwe’s abode.

...

This is what they all forget about Miriel’s death: it was slow.

Slow and lingering and painless. She had dignity unto the end. Finwe clutched her hand until it could not be held. Little Feanaro is the only person in all of Aman, they say, who has lost his mother.

Indis bites her tongue until it bleeds, and does not speak.

...

Intyale dies upon the hills of the Ered Luin. Indis is still young in those days, not quite an adult and not quite a child. Three children are gamboling near the water, and there is- something. Not quite something, but not quite nothing either. Intyale realizes before anyone else, and flings herself forwards, bare-handed.

Bare-chested.

The water boar is driven backwards into the river. Indis grabs the children. Two maiar run, grasp the situation, calm the boar down with songs. Intyale emerges from the river dripping.

She collapses upon the sand, and Indis is there in heartbeats: Intyale is the only mother she remembers, distant and proud though she may be. When she dares to let her eyes drift to Intyale’s chest, everything tightens up inside of her. Her mother is rent open, from breast to belly.

“No,” says Intyale, and reaches up, and grips Indis’ chin tighter than she ought to be able to, so close to death’s door. “Look at me, little one. We are more than our flesh.”

“You are dying,” whispers Indis, trembling.

“Yes,” says Intyale bluntly. “Call for Ingwe.”

Not for the maiar, who might save her. And not for the Valar either. Intyale has given up: Indis doesn’t realize this until later, but her mother- her aunt- would not have called for Ingwe had she not been determined to join the sister she watched fall.

Intyale forces Ingwe to swear to care for Indis as he would his own daughters. Then she asks for her spear, and to be burned until even her bones show no ash. She tells everyone who her sparse belongings must go to. And then, fingers clutching the bone-spear, she dies.

...

(Feanor, too, burns. Half her family burns to death, Feanor and Fingolfin and Fingon and Turgon and Maedhros and- and- and-

That fire is not of Finwe alone. Fire can be taught to catch, and Feanor never burned quite so brightly to anyone else as he did for Indis and her usurpation of his sainted mother. No: the fire is Indis’ inheritance, and Indis’ gift.)

...

Intyale does not tell anyone who her bone-spear should be given to. Indis finds herself holding onto it, and somehow never lets go.

...

This is what they forget: Miriel was the first to die in the peace of Valinor.

The second is Finwe.

...

Feanaro has lost his mother, but Indis will become that mother if he will allow it. She would wish for nothing more. Of course she wishes for nothing more.

But he does not.

Indis watches him when he does not realize. She can see it- the grief, the loneliness. He is a little boy, and Finwe is not half the father he would wish to be, and there are impossible things in this world that Indis wants- her mother, her Miriel, her peace- but most of all she just wants little Feanaro to be happy, to know happiness and joy and trust in it instead of fearing the joy will turn cold and dead in his arms.

...

Miriel had been- quickly angered.

So had Finwe. So do most of the Noldor. Indis is patient enough not to pay much attention to it.

Well. She is patient.

...

Miriel had been easily provoked into greatness. A few insults, a carefree comment- Miriel would sit at her loom and weave, something ever-greater and ever-better. Even now, the finest gown in Indis’ keep is one that she received from Miriel the day after she spent hours insulting Miriel’s taste in fabric.

Indis would have done that to her in those awful weeks after Feanaro’s death. She would’ve gone in and insulted Miriel to within an inch of her life, made her so breathless with rage that Miriel would have levitated out of her bed to strike Indis about the face.

But Este’s healers- called in when the labor lasted for more than two days- refused to hear of it, and Indis could only watch as Finwe’s face went whiter by the hour and all they heard from the sickroom were little Feanaro’s wails and the healers’ murmurs. She obeys the Valar: she watches Miriel fade into Lorien, and never return.

Little Feanaro is all that’s left of Miriel.

She is certain that he’s very much like her, too.

...

Feanaro thinks that his dislike of Indis comes from her marriage to his father. Perhaps the dislike deepened into hatred then; Indis does not know. What she does know- for she’s ensured it- is that Feanaro hated her well before her marriage.

...

(“I expected better of you,” says Indis, once.

Feanaro is three years old. His eyes are Miriel’s in shape and size and beauty. Indis, determinedly, does not flinch.

“I’m just doing with Rumil taught me!” he exclaims.

“In Valmar,” says Indis, “children learn their letters by the time they turn a year old.”

Feanaro flushes red. “I don’t like these letters. They don’t make sense.”

“Then make your own,” says Indis, careful not to let sympathy seep into her voice.

She does not smile when the news percolates through Valinor of Feanor’s Tengwar. She does not smile, but oh, oh: how she wants to!)

...

This is what they do not see: Feanaro is young, and while fire is forever dangerous, while fire is forever alluring, it is too easy, far too easy, to stamp it out. Especially when it is young. Especially when it is small.

Indis would have been the shelter to that little flame if he would have allowed it. But he will not, so all she can do is throw fuel onto the fire. Chaff and dross and dried straw: insults and backhanded compliments and petty slights. If Feanaro will not let her protect him, then she will build him so high that none will ever be able to strike him down.

(Letting him die was never an option.)

...

Finwe dies, and they leave, and then Feanaro dies, and then Findis disappears, and then Nolofinwe dies, and then Arafinwe comes to her, for the first time since his father’s body burned in Tirion’s courtyard.

“We have been given leave to go to Beleriand,” says Arafinwe quietly, solemnly. “Morgoth shall be defeated and thrown into the Void. The Vanyar shall all come, by King Ingwe’s decree.”

“Is there something you wish to ask me, then?” asks Indis gently.

Arafinwe swallows, one reflexive jump of his throat. “Will you join me?”

Indis rises. Steps away. Goes to her bedroom and plucks it from the wall, and returns in time to see her darling son’s shoulder slump with frustration.

“I will not,” she says. Arafinwe jumps, startled. Indis steps closer to him and presses the bone-spear into his palms. “I will not return, Arafinwe, to that land. Already it has taken much from me. I will not offer it more.”

“But-”

“Take this,” says Indis. “It is your grandmother’s.”

Surprise glitters in his pale eyes. “I have a sword.”

“This has already held off Morgoth once,” says Indis. “There are tales that will never be told, of the courage of the elves that never saw the Blessed Isles. Intyale Bright-Speared was your grandmother named, and well-named was she! This spear held Morgoth back long enough to release prisoners in the depths of Utumno before ever Orome saw us, long enough to let Intyale’s sister flee. Long enough for Intyale’s sister to hand the child in her arms over to Intyale.

“The sister’s name is Indis,” says Indis. “I was that child. I was named for her.”

Arafinwe stares at her. “You speak so rarely of them.”

“I’ve no desire to relive tragedy for the rest of my life,” says Indis flatly. “Now come. You’ll need to learn how to use that, if you wish to hold Morgoth hostage!”

...

Perhaps she began this, when she chose this path.

Perhaps she could have averted this.

But Indis is the daughter of Intyale, and it will be her bone-spear held to Morgoth’s throat at the end of this awful, deathful road, and if nothing else- if nothing else- she has the will to remain unbowed, this girl born in the shadow of Utumno, this woman who watched all those around her fall as wheat before a scythe, this mother who would rather her children loathe her than die, this daughter who has lost both mothers and knows, bitterly, the whole of that unfathomable loss.

...

That is what she tells Feanor, finally, when he returns to life.

There is something thoughtful in his gaze. He nods, and returns, a week later, and when she blithely tells him that his sons have inherited his monotonous fashion sense, Feanor flushes, and then pauses, and then says, carefully, “I’d rather it be monotonous than Finarfin’s gaudiness,” and Indis drinks her tea- salty-hot, just as she likes it- and she says, smiling, “I am glad you can be taught.”

#indis #feanor #miriel #silmarillion #my writing #dialux answers questions #i cannot believe i wrote a story abt indis and gave finwe literally no speaking lines but it's FINE it's all FINE i promise it's FINE #anon i would like to formally challenge you to a DUEL what the H E L L #Anonymous

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pieces-by-me · 3 years

Text

Little Mouse

Hello there! This is my piece for @youbloodymadgenius 1k Writing Challenge!! I originally wanted to post this sooner but I took too much on my plate and have now so many things to write that I put myself under pressure. The idiot I am.🤦🏼‍♀️

But anyway: Congratulations again on this huge step!! You deserve every single one of us and even more and I’m sure your blog will only grow bigger and better. I really hope you enjoy this and that you have an amazing day/night ✨

Words: 2827

Summary: Ivar’s night before the big war will be interrupted by a visitor from his past. Someone he has almost forgotten.

Prompt: I have always depended on the kindness of strangers. - A Streetcar Named Desire

Warning: mention of death, I think thats it. English is not my first language

He was standing over the table, browns lined in though. Somehow he had to do it. He had to beat Alfred and win this final battle. The battle over Wessex.

Ivar was in pain. Not only his brain, form constantly thinking of strategy upon strategy, but also his legs. They were killing him. The constant raining, the fog and the gloomy atmosphere shrouding Wessex into a climate that did not agree with Ivar. They hurt worst then on the coldest day in Kattegat or the snow filed days of Kiev. Maybe it was because Kattegat was his home and he was just too used to that. But this was close to agony. The wind blowing through his tent was not helping either.

Not finding the answer he was looking for after watching over the maps of the terrain he was done with it for the night. Tightly gripping his crutch while limping to his bed he made his way carefully from one side to the other. Sitting down he reached for his cup of mead and took a big gulp, hoping the warming liquid would help his sour mood and hurting bones. And after a couple of more cups he felt the familia tingling of warmness traveling through his body. It didn't stop his legs from causing him pain, but at least it was now more tolerable. With this he was able to take off his braces. Making him hiss and grimace as the metal left his limps.

But soon the soothing feeling came from not having his legs being trapped and pinched together that the hissing turned into a long sigh. Finally he could lay down and rest. His men and the one from Harald would want to know a plan by tomorrow but they would have to wait a bit, because he was to tired to think anymore. Something that didn't happen often. Taking of his heavy tunic and trowing it across the improvised room he closed his eyes with hoping to find sleep soon.

Ivar's hearing was always impeccable, a trait he was very proud of and something he would rub under the noses of his brothers every chance he would get. This time his hearing was the reason he woke up from a deep sleep. Someone was sneaking through his tent. And it was not his brother. That klutz was always too loud walking around. So who was mad enough to creep through his quarters while he was still in them? Someone with a death wish that was certain. He used his the arm he lay on to travel towards his hidden knife under his pillow. Something every son of Ragnar would sleep with. But just as his hand neared the edge of his pillow a voice filled with taunt went through his tent.

“I took your knife so you don't have to search for it.”

What in the name of Odin?

Not only was this voice teasing him, him a feared Viking throughout all the lands, but it was female and close to giggling. No use in trying to be stealthy he turned around to face this intruder and sat up.

When he looked at her he saw that she was a meek little thing. Thin, sickly and clothed in scraps. Standing there, proud and smiling, three meters from his bed. Twirling his knife in her hands. There was a glimmer of triumph in her eyes but something else sparkled alongside it. Admiration?

Pushing the initial shock away, Ivar slapped a smirk on his face and looked her deep in the eyes. Something about them was nagging on his brain. Like he had seen them a long time ago, or in a dream. But before he could say any words or threads she beat him to it.

“You are Ivar the Boneless.” It was definitely admiration.

“It has been a long time since I have seen you.”

That made him stutter a bit. So he had seen her. But when?

“I'm not surprised you don't remember me. I am a nobody. But I saw you. Way back when we both were little. Or at least younger, I never truly grew taller.” A sort of giggle that was close to sadness left her lips at her words. But it wasn't a wonder that she didn't grow. How could a body grow when there was never anything to feed it?

It was quiet then after her words. Ivar was in a state of remembering. Trying to pinpoint where he could have seen her. When they were younger and he was in Wessex, otherwise it wouldn't make any sense. She was Saxon, or at least not from his home. That could only have been when he was captured with his father by King Ecbert. His heart ached at the memory of his father. So it had to be there, but how could they have met, he was in in a cell or locked in a room for the whole ordeal.

A feeling like letting lose of a taut arrow whizzed through his brain as he glanced at her awaiting eyes again.

“You were crawling behind your father into the first ring of the city when....”

“You are the little mouse.” His voice was louder when he interrupted her.

For a moment she looked at him in pure amazement. Bewildered almost as if shot with his arrow. But then seconds went by and her looked formed to something of confusion.

“Mouse?”

“The little girl behind a barrel, hiding away. Tiny thing with huge eyes that stared at me. Like a mouse looking out of its hole.”

“So you really remember me?” Her voice and face went back to amazement and in her pure joy she took a step towards him. Almost as if not even realizing that she did. But he definitely saw it.

“The great Ivar the Boneless knows who I am.” Her voice was small but proud. Almost as if it wasn't a sentence meant for him to hear.

Ivar didn't know how he should react to this. He could yell for his guards, making them run in here and taking her a prisoner that broke into his tent. Probably punished and killed. But something held him back. He was intrigued of this women. Truly she was like a mouse. Small as one. Quiet as one. And also sneaky if he thought about it. Her hands must be quick and steady too if she was able to grab the knife quite literally from under his head. He decided to entertain her joy, and it had definitely nothing to do with the fact that she called him 'the great Ivar the Boneless.'

“Well since you know who I am apparently, tell me your name. Or do you want me to keep calling you mouse?” A self-satisfied smile grew on his face.

“I don't have a name and mouse sounds better then what I was called before.”

That again made him stop for a second. “You don't have a name? Don't be stupid, everyone has one.

“Don't call me stupid.” She held his knife steadily in her hands and this time her voice was void of all emotion. “My mother was crazy when I was born and the time I grew up with her so she called me by a different name every day. And after she died no one was there to give me one. So yes, I don't have one.”

“Well then I just have to call you Mouse then don't I. You looked small back then. And as you said there was no one there to help you. So how did you survive?” His smile turned into a bitter smirk after her mood change.

“Why do you want to know?”

“A person breaks into my tent at night, steals my knife and reveals that we already met once in this life. Why wouldn't I want to know how they did all that?”

Ivar could see that she was hesitating for a moment. But after thinking everything over, the good outcomes and the bad once, she started walking around in his tent. Went from one corner to the next and kept her eyes sweeping over every little thing that she could see.

'Probably looking for something to take with her' Ivar thought with a bitter kind of chuckle.

“I had to live on the streets since I was 5. Mother died and the men who owned our little house threw me out. Didn't need another mouth to feed, he said. So I had to learn how to live on my own. I was small and young so some people pitied me and gave me scraps of food of small measly coins. But I could also run real fast so I could rush around people and take things from them before they knew.”

There was more. He knew it, he could hear it in her tone.

“You said that Mouse was better then the name before, so what was that and who called you that?”

Her steps staggered for a tiny bit and he new that he was right.

“There was a men who helped me.” She was still looking at everything except Ivar. “He helped me, not out of kindness but because he saw that I had talent.” She wiggled her fingers at him and her lips turned up at her words. “I don't know his real name, he never told me but he always called me Pest. So I called him Oldie. He hated that.” Tiny laughter slipped out of her mouth and when she skipped through the room he caught her eyes for a second, seeing that she was in a memory.

“So I would say Mouse is better then Pest wouldn't you?”

Her eyes found his at her question and he only nodded. “So he helped you stealing?”

“I didn't only steal things you know? I sat out in my alley and begged. And I tried to find work. But no one wanted my help. How would anyone want me. I'm not strong and Oldie always said I have to big of a mouth. I can't keep it shut. And I needed training at the beginning. Had to run away a lot of times to escape the guards when people saw me.”

The smile that was threatening to grow on Ivars face was quickly pushed back down. He hadn't decided yet if he would let her go or not.

“For a long time in my life I have always depended on the kindness of strangers. I had to be lucky.Waiting that people took pity in me. I had to be patient and hungry for most of my days. But then I heard stories of you. People talked about the sons of Ragnar and even after I left York a couple of months after I saw you, I still listened to the people when they talked about you. How you avenged your father and later took York. How the cripple that I saw crawling around was now walking and riding a horse.”

Not even he noticed her standing beside his bed. He was too compelled by her words and the admiration that was back in her eyes that drew him in like a moth to a flame.

“But after hearing your stories. The stories of Ivar the Boneless and how he conquered and fought and of how he became King I realized that I didn't want to depend on anyone but myself anymore. If you could rise up to such a degree I didn't want to stay where I was” She sat down on his bed. Right next to him.

Never had he imagined that he would inspire someone in such a way. Raising fear and misery. Making people scream when they heard stories of him. Having poets sing about his conquests and destructions. All that was more logical then the admiration he got from this women before him. Confusion showed on his face.

“You knew that I could kill you the moment yet you stepped into my tent. But still you came.”

His question was met with a nod. Her eyes piercing his.

“You did not come here to steal my things did you?” After looking at her hands he added with a smirk. “Well except my knife.”

She smiled and and nodded her head again when she looked at the mentioned knife in her hands. Tightening her grip she slowly moved her hand towards him as if she wanted to give it back to him. He didn't react to her movements.

“I just wanted to see you again. You haven't left my mind for a long time.”

Her innocent honesty touched his heart in a strange way. She did not come to steal. She could have even killed him with his own knife. Gods she sat herself right next to him even though she knew that he could probably crush her like a bug with his bare hands. Still she risks her life just to see him one more time. To see the person that gave her hope all her life. Hope for something better. Hope that even a person that has to crawl though the dirt can become someone great.

Not knowing what he should do with her words and the warmness that spread though him all of a sudden he asked her the first thing that came to his mind.

“Where is Oldie?”

Bemusement at his question and sadness for her upcoming answer mixed on her face.

“I killed him.”

Shock and a slight silver of panic made itself known inside Ivar's head. Maybe he should have taken the knife back. But before it could grow bigger she continued.

“He was caught in a bear trap when we moved around. His wound did not get better so one night he asked me to end his pain. And I did.”

His panic subsided but with it grew a kind of sadness. Empathy maybe. He saw that her hands started to tremble just a tiny bit so he enclosed her small cold hands with his larger warm once.

The trembling stopped and a gasp was heard though the tent. She looked at their hands and took in his warmth. The difference in size was almost comical. And when he started to speak in a voice not many people would hear, quiet but tender, she met his eyes again. Feeling the squeeze of his hands.

“You should take my knife with you. You earned it by taking it from under my head.”

She wanted to protest, further proving that she really did not want to hurt him or steal from him.

But he wouldn't let her.

“A little mouse like you should have something to defend herself. You can't always run away to escape. You have this now as a gift. So you will take it.”

His last words were stoic. He wouldn't take it back and she knew it at his tone.

“Thank you.” Now even her voice sounded like a mouse. Tiny and high.

This was the first thing someone ever gave her as a gift. The sun that was slowly creeping up the horizon fell into his tent and with the new small form of light in it he could see that her eyes were shining again, this time with unshed tears of gratitude.

“Now run along little mouse. The sun is rising and you need to escape before the cats awake.”

He squeezed her hands one more time and then let her go.

Standing form his bed she did not broke the gaze they shared. Even when she made her way closer to his desk she still looked at him. Only now he could see the tiny gab under his desk. The one she probably sneaked her way into.

“Goodbye Ivar.”

“Goodbye little Mouse.”

“Hopefully I can see you again one more time. See if you still remember me then.”

“Oh I'm sure I will.”

With his last words her smile was as blinding as the upcoming sun. Oh yes he would not forget her.

She turned around reluctantly, bend down to the ground and crawled through the hole. The tent was empty again.

Ivar had to laugh. She really was a mouse. Sighing he laid back down, knowing that it was no use in trying to sleep again. He was wide awake and soon his brother and Harald were up to further discuss their plans. He really hoped that after this battle their paths would meet again. That he could talk to her more and learn more about her life.

But for now he had to win against Alfred. After that he could think of his little mouse again.

————————————

Let me know what you thought! Feedback is really appreciated✨ have a nice day!

#history vikings #vikings #youbloodymadgenius1kcelebration #vikings ivar #vikings imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar imagine #ivar fanfic #mywork

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tenthgrove · 3 years

Note

hi tenthgrove :D when you have the time can I get some lore on melone pretty please 💖 I hope you’re having a lovely day~!!

Melone's backstory- in as much depth as I have for it:

Melone was a Florence boy, born in July 1976, or 1996 for the modern AU. His parents were middle-class eccentric types, and lived comfortably on the outskirts of the city with their many pets and three children.

Melone had two sisters, one elder and one younger. His elder sister Martina was a genius, an impeccably organised young woman who went to study medicine at a prestigious university. The younger sister Giorgia was more the artistic sort, beloved in the family for her many talents and endless sweetness. Melone was close to them both, but had a particular bond with Giorgia.

As for Melone himself, he was as equally precocious as his sisters but did not quite click with the school system the way Martina did, so his grades tended to linger around Bs in most subjects. His parents were unbothered by this, encouraging their children to follow their own interests even if it was less rewarded, so they continued to be proud of him nonetheless. As a result, Melone funnelled his efforts into what fascinated him, namely biology and the growing field of computer science.

When Melone was 6 years old, he was diagnosed with a moderate visual impairment in his right eye, purely genetic, and prescribed special glasses to correct the vision. However, Melone was very resistant to wearing them, and noticing that he did not seem at all hindered by having to rely on one eye, his father made the decision to let him stop wearing them.

After Martina went to university Melone began to greatly admire her studies, and told his parents he wanted to be a doctor as well. They immediately provided him with resources to look into this further, but the more Melone read the more he found his interest was limited to a few areas of medicine, namely genetics and obstetrics. Simply put, he was fascinated by the creation of humans. With his parents approval, he set his sights on these fields. Unfortunately, he was not able to secure a place on a competitive medicine course due to his grades, but did manage to get on a medical technology course with an opportunity to transfer later on. Even better, through his parents connections' in the university they were able to get him put in a separate module for obstetrics, so he could get a head start on this passion too.

Melone very much enjoyed university, and excelled at his studies. His interests continued to involve to include the social factors that affect a child's outcomes, such as maternal deprivation and health in pregnancy. This was particularly fed by one particular encounter, in which Melone shadowed a doctor in visiting a patient in his clinic. This patient was very unique in one major sense- she was a prisoner, escorted to and from the consultation by prison guards. The fear and sadness on her face was clear.

The encounter stuck in his mind prominently until one day, he saw the woman again. She had been released now- her sentence was never very long to begin with, but was still yet to have her baby. She explained that after leaving prison she had been swept up in Passione, and it wasn't safe to seek antenatal care. She was aware that he was only a student but she recalled his eagerness to help her and was sure he must be better than nothing. She pleaded with him to provide her care through the rest of the pregnancy. Melone agreed.

All went well and the baby was born healthy, but a few months later the woman was back, this time with a friend. They explained that this second woman had become pregnant and was also looking to circumvent public care. She pleaded for the same treatment, and offered him a good sum of money if he would give it. Again, Melone accepted, as he did for the woman after her, and the woman after her. He enjoyed this, enjoyed the unconventional and having a patient all to himself. But of course, there was no way he was going to get away with this forever. Eventually, one of the women would be imprisoned again and the source of her care traced.

Melone was promptly expelled from the university, and with nowhere else to go, decided to continue down the path he had already started on and join Passione. He did not tell his family he was no longer at uni. He started out in Passione much as he was before, providing medical services with a speciality for obstetrics. But once he developed his stand Baby Face, he was funnelled into more... nefarious tasks. The act of killing came easier to him than he expected- he supposed it was the consequence of his scientific mind.

Even though he wasn't a student any more, Melone continued to live like one, spending most of his spare times in clubs. Soon, he had made friends with a group of assassins from La Squadra Esecuzione- Formaggio, Illuso and Ghiaccio. They got on well, finding Melone's weirdness charming and his skills admirable. Word of the friendship got round to Risotto, who was in need of a squadmate with some proper medical training. He also had ideas for how Baby Face could be operated more efficiently, so this new friend was very promising to him.

Melone agreed quickly to join La Squadra. He had never clicked with his old team and was off-put by the limitations to using his stand. He was the penultimate addition to the team and the last to technically be introduced, since Pesci was acquainted with them for some years before officially joining.

As for his parents, Melone told them he had moved abroad for charity work.

#small asks #melone

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the-obelisk · 3 years

Text

Grief - Fae Collection

Loki x Reader

Summary: A mission gone wrong. The one where he had watched you fall at the hands of a mad man. And also, watched as you crumple in grief at the twist of fate.

“Unhand her or I will kill you myself, mortal.” Loki stepped forward in a protective stance, anger etched into his expression.

The older man looked at him, clutching you even tighter than before, taunting the trickster. “Ah, ah, ah. Don’t play fake hero with me, you—”

“What do you want from her?” Sam asked with urgency in his tone. He was unsure why he had taken you, with no attempt to engage with anyone else.

The man pressed his nose against your head, inhaling deeply. He smiled through the strands of your hair and stared at the two men before him sadistically, “She is my safety ticket out.”

He smirked. “And by the looks of it, his weakness.” He gestured to Loki.

Sam looked at him with determination, “You know you won’t make it out of here alive. Let her go.”

“But you won’t shoot me if she is my living shield, now would you?” He taunted Sam.

The raven-haired 50-year old scientist looked at you as you felt something sharp press against your back, “Now tell me, agent, what is that little light trick of yours?”

And in that moment all three of you had realized, the mission now posed a real problem.

And you were at the center of it.

The mission was simple: Full team onboard. Part of the team moved to search and secure the civilians, the others were tasked to take out the target.

And there you all were.

One hundred miles from the Avengers compound, it was suspected that Dr. William Endo was kidnapping recent runaways and outcasts from nearby small towns to experiment on.

Tony was sure it would be a day long mission. In and out, until it wasn’t.

Sick of the world over run by super-powered individuals, Endo wanted to harness and transfer those powers into what he deemed his own subservient human army that were effectively trained to combat any threat through one of Hydra’s old brainwashing techniques.

This time all super-powered.

And his end goal: To sell the individuals to highly volatile regimes and dealers on the black market.

Endo had seemed to have his contingency plan all in place. One wrong move and the shout of a code word, the entire compound could be effectively blown up from the bottom up.

Wanda, Natasha, Rhodey, Bucky, and Clint were moving in to secure those in the compound— the issue was that they were underground and the people held against their will were scattered, most likely still being experimented on.

Steve spoke over the comms, “Team Two, heat signatures in the left wing, second level. Thor, back up is needed in the courtyard.”

The team quickly moved. Meanwhile, you, Loki, and Sam had cornered the mastermind in the courtyard.

“Diversion.”

Sam projected his thought to you, and in that instant, you made a fast move to turn around and face Endo. You had planned to blast him with your light, but on the defense, he moved in retaliation.

Taking the blade he held against your back, the man pushed it through your upper abdomen as you conjured your light.

Sam took the shot and Loki ran to catch you before you fell.

Rushing beside you, Sam noticed the pained, hurried look on Loki’s face as he pulled the blade out. His eyes had widened at the sight of the blade itself.

“Brother.” Thor called as he landed on his feet opposite to the two men.

Loki looked up at him in fear, an expression Sam had never seen. “What’s happening? Why aren’t you healing her?”

Moving his eyes to the blade in Loki’s hand, Thor spoke “He cannot heal her.”

“What? He’s healed the others before!” Sam looked at him with confusion and anger.

You were already falling limp and there wasn’t a way to get you to a medic soon enough.

“It is bronze. Deadly to the Fae. No magic can heal the wound.”

Sam shook his head calling all to the courtyard. “Man down in the courtyard!”

Confirmations swarmed in at the other members running towards the location.

Loki held your form, tears forming as he called for you to stay awake. “Stay with me, little one. Do not leave me so soon.”

You looked up at him noting his quivering voice. He wasn’t angry or hurt, but defeated. The idea of you soon slipping from him before he could ever experience all the joys you could possibly bring to him had broken him.

He was reminded of Frigga and her death. Two women that had always seen past the monster and into the soul of a tortured man, now leaving him.

Thor stared in fear. He was her protector, how could he had let this happen. The blonde-man stared helplessly. He couldn’t help you or heal you.

All he could do was simply watch as you began to fade and Loki’s heart breaking in front of him.

“I am not her.” You spoke softly. The three looked at you as your form slowly changed to into a man that would stand a foot taller than you.

Thor’s eyes widened at the sight of the 30-year old mocha skinned man, and kneeled down. “Lord Ambrose.”

Loki looked at Thor in shock. This was the man that had swore Thor in as Y/N protector. “She is safe.”

Sam stared in utter shock. Completely unaware that the man had used a glamour to mirror a version that looked exactly like you.

And then you had entered the courtyard alongside Natasha and Wanda in hurry.

“What can I do?” You said out of breath from running across the lot.

Only you and Loki had the power to heal, however, yours were more helpful with deeper wounds while Loki had limitations to his healing properties.

It had taken practice, but Loki offered some of Frigga’s old journals. It was a natural talent you had seemed to possess.

Loki looked up at you with tears, “Y/N?”

He was sure he had lost you and yet, you stood with your gloves off and ready to heal whoever needed it.

“Holy shit.” Sam mumbled as he stood up to look at you in utter shock. But you were confused at his reaction to you.

Noting the bottom half of a man with Loki blocking the first half from view, you inhaled.

You move to come closer but Thor stopped you, “It was Ambrose.”

The mention of your guardian shocked you. You were now truly confused at why Ambrose would be there, in the compound, especially in this moment. However, you felt the instinctual connection between you two dwindling. And then it had struck you— he was fading.

“He glamoured himself as you to protect you.” Thor offered a further explanation. You looked at him with an expression he couldn’t interpret entirely. He then moved aside revealing Ambrose’s barely breathing form. Loki kneeled next his form with an haunted look on his face. Once again, Thor spoke— this time in a quiet voice. “You must say your goodbyes, Y/N.”

You dashed over in a hurry looking to Loki who only shook his head. He offered only one word confirming why Ambrose could not be saved, “Bronze.”

Looking back down at your guardian, you placed your hand over his gash, “It is okay, father. Accept my life force.”

Life force. It was the one thing that could save any soul. Transferring your life into the body of another was no light feat. The giver would perish, and the recipient would live.

Loki looked at you with fear in his eyes. You were unharmed and yet here you were ready to die for the second time— but this time, it would be real.

Rarely had others of your kind offered theirs unless it was moments of pure desperation as it signed their death warrant, but this was Ambrose. And to you, his life had much more meaning than your own.

It was the ultimate sacrifice.

He was the leader of your realm, your guardian, your father, brother, friend, and closest companion. You now understood why he feared allowing you to make a life on Midgard instead of remaining on your plane.

“N-no... you are destined for much more. It is time for me to join the others in the Summerland.” He spoke quietly.

His skin began to desecrate, leaving you to shake your head. “Please, don’t leave me. I never should have left your side. I was wrong— I was selfish. Our people will have no one to turn to.”

“But they will. Anders has been prepped to lead one day. It is his time.” You cried at the sound of your brother stepping up to the plate, it was a role he never truly wanted. “Send him my wishes. Tell him, he has come of age.”

“Oh, Ambrose.” You barely choked out.

This was the man who had taken you and your brother in after fleeing from war on your realm. Anders held you in his arms at age seven, scared with his newborn sister in his hands when he appeared on the plane you would call home for hundreds of years. Your brother, still young, never knew of your origins and with his memory erased, he would never know. But Ambrose— as elusive as he was— was all knowing and had taken you both in.

He spoke even softer, “You protect this world as Anders protects our realm. Your mother would be very proud.”

“My mother?”

“I see her. She is quite beautiful...”

Closing his eyes, he smiled softly. “Aelsa, take me home.” Loki looked at Ambrose in surprise of the name he mentioned. He knew exactly who he had referred to. He looked at Thor, who had his eyebrows furrowed. Both drawing the connection of your origin.

For you, he name rang of familiarity but you were too consumed by the soft shimmer that surrounded Ambrose’s form. He was leaving and you could do nothing to stop him.

And within mere seconds all you held was the dust of his now death. Fairy dust, often claimed by folklore. The magical finality of all deceased Fae.

The world had seemed to go quiet around you. And all you could think of was all the loss you had faced, even before your arrival to the place you would call home above Midgard.

And your guardian, your only true parent in your life, vanished.

“Dove?”

You looked to Loki who seemed to be filled with utter concerned as he pulled you in noting the tears in your eyes. You clutched to him tightly, while a vicious sob erupted from your lips.

“I- I can’t. It’s my fault—”

His hand rested on the back of your head while you cried. Loki was thankful that you were unharmed. The thought of losing you was a reality he could not bare to imagine, but the sight of your heartbreak pained him so.

He could feel the deep sorrow and pain roll off of you. And in your mind, you were consumed with a plethora of thoughts. Ones of grief, of guilt, failure, anger, and confusion.

Loki only held you tighter as your hands gripped his shirt. He sent you emotions of love and comfort but your walls propelled them away.

“I did this.” You cried out. He held you tighter and kissed your head, “My little dove,” he cooed to you.

He had no way of knowing what to say. In truth, no one knew what to do. What can one say to someone who had watched their loved one die so instantly, so unexpectedly?

Thor ushered Natasha, Wanda, and Sam away instructing them to proceed with the rest of the mission of bringing the victims home.

Sam followed the two women out of the courtyard, informing Steve and Tony what had occurred. Thor would most likely fill them in when he returned.

Turning back to Loki, he nodded and walked away. He knew the last thing you would want were minds buzzing all around you, and so he parted.

Leaving you and Loki to the silence around you.

#loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x fairy!reader #loki fanfic #mcu loki #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #loki imagine #loki series #loki of asgard #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki avengers

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josiecarioca · 3 years

Text

About Shafiq’s "crush” on Severus

(Post War headcanon/meta/rambling/whatever this is, because @hayalee8 wanted to know. Also tagging @dragon-cove-719 @snapescapades @hbprincealice and @blxck-cxffee13 )

If you´ve been reading “Post War”, you must have noticed by now that Virgil Shafiq has a very particular type of relationship with Severus. I’ve been calling it an “unresolved crush” for the sake of simplicity, but it’s far more complicated than that.

Virgil Amir Shafiq is the youngest of three sons born to the Pureblood Shafiq family, one of the “Sacred 28″. His father is the head of the family and inherited the Shafiq’s business of magical gems and stones, his mother improved the family business with her jewelry designs which used the materials’ magical properties to create stunning visual effects.

In “Post War”, Shafiq is introduced in chapter 53 like this:

“Virgil had never tasted the bitterness of struggle as a child. He was the youngest of three boys, born to a well-off family of purebloods. His parents were liberal Muslims who were fairly easygoing in their upbringing. Coming to Hogwarts in the wake of his two older brothers graduating with near perfect scores, Virgil had a metaphorical red carpet laid out in front of him. Every teacher assumed he´d excel in everything just like his brothers had, and only ever showed surprise when he didn´t perform any less than stelarly.

Every teacher except Snape.

The only thing Snape assumed about any student was that they´d be a failure. And it was up to them to prove him wrong. It was the first time Virgil was challenged. Snape had been a very young man then, only 21 years old and in his first year as a teacher. He hadn´t taught any of Virgil´s brothers, so he didn´t compare Virgil to anybody except Virgil himself, and with that he was never pleased, never satisfied. 'Fix your tie, Mr. Shafiq', 'watch the cauldron´s temperature, Mr. Shafiq', 'do it over, Mr. Shafiq'. Praise from other teachers was such a common occurrence it meant close to nothing to him, but Virgil could distinctively remember the first time he got a nod of approval on a potion brewed to perfection from Professor Snape and how much that had meant to him. "Well, done, Mr. Shafiq." “

As a child, Shafiq lived in the shadow of his two older brothers, not exactly because the was unfavored by his parents and teachers, but because there was a set bar, a level of expectation already set for him, and regardless of how accomplished he was, it was, to some level, taken for granted, because his brothers “did it before”. Shafiq basically didn´t have “room for error”. This led to crippling anxiety about his own performance (be it socially or academically), as he didn´t think he was allowed to make mistakes. That made him very frustrated as his best efforts would always be considered the “baseline” on which he had operate, to the point that his accomplishments went entirely unoticed.

Shafiq’s first year in Hogwarts was also Severus’ first year as a teacher. Severus was only ten years older than Shafiq (a small age difference compared to how much older most other professors were) and he had no expectations when meeting the young boy. In seeking Snape’s approval, Shafiq found a sense of purpose, because that young, snappy, mean teacher was not like everybody else: he didn’t take for granted that Shafiq would be flawless. So Shafiq started to live to impress him. And Severus was impressed. Over the years, Severus made sure to encourage his slytherin students, knowing Slytherin was the house most malignated, the least liked. So he did, in his own way, nurture Shafiq’s talents.

As he grew older, Shafiq started to grapple with his own sexuality. He dated girls, but at the same time felt attracted to boys. His relationship with his best friend, Ravenclaw Leo Levinson, was tinted with shades of romantic attachment, and there were other boys he felt drawn to. At some point he struggled with the question of whether he was gay or not, because while he knew he liked boys, his attraction to girls also felt genuine and correct. He had been attracted to every girl he dated, and didn’t feel like any of those relationships was forced on him in any way, on the contrary, he sought them. Only as an adult did he understand he wasn’t gay, but bisexual.

In that period of initial confusion about his own identity, he also struggled to make sense of his feelings towards Severus. As a child he admired his teacher. Severus was the only one looking out for Slytherins like Shafiq, he was their head of house, after all. In Shafiq’s eyes Severus also had the confidence, the aplomb the young boy aspired to. Professor Snape was intimidating, respected, and not-to-be-messed-with. Shafiq looked up to him near to the point of hero-worship. But as Shafiq grew older and into his own sexuality, he found there was an element of physical attraction. Shafiq pushed it to the back of his mind, because he felt it was disrespectful, and perhaps he was simply mixing things up.

However, as an adult Shafiq found himself gravitating towards men who, in some way, were like Severus, whether in temperament or looks. His relationships with men have been mostly disastrous, particularly in comparison with his relationships with women, which tend to be simpler (if somehwat Oedipian). Leo (who’s still very much in love with Shafiq, but has accepted Shafiq only wants him as a friend) is probably the one who best sees how Shafiq’s attractions work:

He liked his women hyperfeminine, charming, smart. It wasn´t the only thing he liked, but he really did like it. When it came to men, the very few Leo had known of, things got a bit fuzzier. Over the years he had started to notice Virgil gravitate toward the same type...older, unavailable, emotionally distant...and at least a couple of them faintly resembled their former potions master.

Severus, however, is entirely unaware of Shafiq’s feelings for him. Even though Shafiq is nearing 30, whenever Severus looks at him all he sees is a kid. Not just any kid, of course, one of his best students, and one who has and continues to make Severus very proud...but a kid nevertheless. When Shacklebolt offers to provide a “bodyguard” for Evelyn, picked out of the ranks of his best aurors, Severus immediately demands Shafiq for the position.

Shafiq receives the assignment of protecting Evelyn with mixed feelings. On the one hand he would do anything Severus asked of him, on the other hand the mere idea of Severus having a lover (of any gender) makes him feel weird. In some ways, he idolized Snape to the point of de-sexualizing him, so he felt his own attraction to him was disrespectful. But Evelyn is living evidence of Snape as a sexual being, and that rattles Shafiq to his core.

It all gets complicated in a whole other level when Shafiq meets Evelyn in person. As per Leo’s remarks, Evelyn is exactly Shafiq’s “type” when it comes to women (” He liked his women hyperfeminine, charming, smart. “). And lo and behold, he goes from “who even is this person” to “she’s actually kind of interesting”

Initially, he brushes it off as just finding her good-looking, and that’s that. Shafiq does flirt with women with more ease than he does with men, after all. However, as he starts to become way too attached to Evelyn, who trusts him and cares for him a great deal, he realizes it’s not just that.

For one, now he can’t push his feelings for Severus aside because Evelyn’s presence established Severus as a sexual being, who can desire and be desired. He’s no longer the professor on a pedestal, safely distant. But being attracted to Evelyn puts in question his feelings for Severus as well: is he really in love with Severus and sees Evelyn is just a sort of “more acceptable/less complicated” proxy? Or are his feelings for Severus merely platonic admiration? In this case his being in love with Evelyn would be a complete betrayal of the man he sees as a mentor. And if he’s not really into her, maybe this supposed attraction for Evelyn is an unconscious attempt to emulate the man he so admires? It could be that there’s something he idealizes about their relationship, this love affair between a wizard and a muggle that has the markings of the type of all-consuming, romantic love story Shafiq has been chasing all his life...

Or maybe, just maybe, you can be in love with two people at once.

Shafiq honestly doesn´t know, which wrecks his emotional stability.

#Snapedom #severus snape #Virgil Shafiq #Virgil being a disaster #evelyn black #complicated feelings are complicated

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cocovikings23 · 3 years

Text

New Start - Chapter 6 (Modern Ivar x Reader)

Hi everyone !

As promised in the sixth chapter, I hope you like it. Nothing special is happening, the relationship between Ivar and the reader is intensifying, I needed to go through it to get to chapter 7 which will be more "full" ☺️😎

Words: 2284

Warnings : None except mention of sexual practices. Texts are written in italics

Again thank you to my beta @waiting4inspiration ♥️

Gif by @ivarsshieldmadien

Chapter 6: Business Travel

After landing, a limo is waiting for you, Floki, and Ivar. The three of you get into this beautiful car and the champagne is offered to you “Ecbert wants to impress us with his wealth, he should rather impress us by keeping his promises,” said Floki in a sarcastic tone. Ivar smiles a little ironic smile that only he knows the meaning of.

You arrive at the hotel and Gods, it’s enormous. A baggage handler takes care of your bags and the three of you go to the reception. The hotel has assigned you suites – it doesn’t surprise you – and you then head for the elevator. Ivar hasn’t said a word to you since the landing and it’s starting to get tense even though you know he prefers to say nothing to Floki about your little follies on the plane.

You go up to the tenth and last floor of this building. Floki already knows the place. He has come time and time again with Ragnar so, he does not need to be shown to his room.

Ivar interrupts this silence by greeting Floki who returns from his suite, “Floki, we meet at 19:30 for dinner with Ecbert at the restaurant of the hotel. Get ready for negotiations, old fool.” You chuckle softly at Ivar’s words and he turns his gaze to you. “Now I will show you your suite.” Your suites are next to each other. Yours is the one in the middle of Floki’s and Ivar’s.

You insert your card in the electronic box to unlock the door. And when you enter your room you are breathless. Large windows overlook the city that is illuminated with all colors, the entrance opens on a living room where there is a round table - there is a welcome card with a bottle of champagne and two glasses - and two armchairs, a beige sofa, and a huge mirror on the wall. On your right, there’s the bedroom with a king-size bed with bright white sheets, and four pillows carefully placed at the head.

A little further in, you discover the bathroom. An Italian shower adorns the room. It is very large. You think there is plenty of room for two in it... Towels with the name of the hotel sewn on the edge are arranged between the two sinks.

You come back to the living room to find Ivar is sitting on one of the chairs, his crutch on the ground. The porter knocks on the door to bring you your suitcase. Ivar thanks him so that he can quickly leave.

“Are you satisfied with the room?” asks Ivar.

“It is… really… great and very beautiful, yes. Thank you, Ivar,” you answer, walking to the window to admire the view and the night that gradually falls over the city.

You hear Ivar get up and feel him getting closer behind you. He presses his body against yours, smells your hair, and then your neck before placing a sweet kiss on it. It makes you close your eyes. He puts his free hand on your belly to pull you more against him. You turn to him and decide to kiss him. He grabs your ass to knead it, then quickly regains his mind before letting himself be invaded by his desires. “It is better that you rest a little before dinner.”

He goes to the door but stops to give you some information. “You’ll get a visit from a hairdresser and a makeup artist. I hired them for you fo-”

“Ivar, you don’t have to do this for me”, you cut Ivar off but it’s something he hates.

“Did you just interrupt me, Y/N? Huh? It seems to me that I don’t have to repeat to myself that I AM the boss and that if I want to hire a makeup artist or something else, I am entitled to do it”, he whispers as he approaches you. You look down, blame yourself for interrupting him even though you know he hates it. But he says nothing and does nothing. He starts again with a more relaxed voice, “I’ll meet you later. I’ll lie down for a bit. You should do the same.” Then he slams your door as he leaves.

You sit on your bed, the tiredness of the journey – which can be said to have been painful – takes you into a light sleep and you doze off for a few minutes. You are awakened by a text that Hvitserk sends you:

“Hello beauty, are you well in England? My brother is not too stupid with you? lol xoxo”

“Hi Hvitty, everything is going well, I miss you! Xoxo.”

You prefer not to talk about Ivar, so the less you tell Hvitserk, the better. You throw your smartphone across the bed and let out a big sigh before getting up.

You decide to start getting ready, take a nice warm shower and wrap yourself in one of the hotel’s bathrobes. You haven’t unpacked your suitcase yet, so you open it up and take out your things to hang them in the wardrobe. In particular, the beautiful dress that one of your friends gave you – it was your parting gift. It’s a beautiful dress with thin black straps. It’s long, with a few rhinestones on the neckline. Not to mention your pair of Louboutins which oddly match the dress perfectly.

A few minutes later, you hear a knock at your door. You open the door and there are two men – that look quite eccentric – smiling at you. “Come on, we will take care of you!”

You let them in and they put their equipment in the living room. They have more makeup and hair accessories than an entire beauty salon. They put one of the chairs in the middle of the room and signal you to sit down.

After 45 minutes of styling, makeup, and dressing, you look like a goddess. Your long hair is dressed in an extremely well-structured bun – not a strand protrudes from your head. Your makeup matches the color of your eyes, your lips are dressed with a peach-colored lipstick, and the best thing, you have false eyelashes that enhance your doe-eyed look. You only wear a pair of dangling earrings in yellow gold with a thin bracelet.

You walk out of your room – your dress matches a small glittering black pouch and you walk up to the elevator to go down to the ground floor where the restaurant is located. You cross the hall before arriving at a small staircase that allows you to enter the restaurant. You place yourself at the top of the steps to look for Ivar in the distance.

After a few seconds of observation, you see him. He’s dressed in a black suit and white shirt. He didn’t bother to put on a tie, just left the top two buttons open on his shirt and his hair falls on his shoulders. He didn’t do his hair and Gods, how sexy he is! He greets two men, one older than the other, and from the resemblance, it seems that they are father and son.

Ivar is smiling, not an ounce of anger or sadness in his eyes. He is friendly with the people around him. You take the opportunity to observe his beautiful blue eyes and you feel a strange sensation invade your whole body. No, no, no, you don’t have to fall in love with him. Not now, maybe never!

This is the first time you see Ivar like this and you discover another facet of his so atypical personality. Ivar turns his gaze to the stairs and discovers you with your beautiful dress, the slit on one side of your thigh gives a glimpse of your leg. He has stars in his eyes that you can notice in the distance. He walks up to you while you walk down the steps. He comes to meet you. “Y/N, you are…I can’t find the words…you are…incredibly beautiful!”

“Thank you, Ivar. I find you very charming,” you decide to tease him a little, “too bad you didn’t wear a tie”.

Ivar leans down near your ear to whisper to you “I have a tie. It is in my pocket but it will be useful to me with you after our dinner”.

You open your eyes as Ivar looks at you. The evening and the night promises to be very long.

Ivar gives you his arm to accompany you to your table where Floki is already settled and talks with a young man you think must be barely younger than you. Ivar introduces you to your hosts.

“Y/N, I introduce you to Ecbert with whom we are currently dealing, and his son, Aethelwulf.”

It’s very impressive that you’re here.

“Good evening. I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

“I see that Ivar still has a good taste for beautiful women!” Ecbert says.

You all sit around the table, you between Ivar and this young man whose name you don’t know yet. Floki rushes to introduce you proudly to him. “My dear Alfred, I present to you, Y/N, our new recruit. She is very talented, you should get along well.”

Alfred takes your hand by surprise and gives you a kiss-hand worthy of a romantic film. “Good evening, Y/N. I am Alfred, the grandson of Ecbert and son of Aethelwulf. You are ravishing”

You feel your cheeks heat up, smile back, and say very politely, “Nice to meet you, Alfred. Thank you very much and your family for welcoming us to this sumptuous hotel.”

Ivar doesn’t miss a second of the scene. He puts a hand on your right thigh which is exposed and exerts a strong pressure so that your attention is back to him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Two and a half hours after dinner – when you had to juggle between Ecbert’s open flirting, Alfred’s little attentions, and especially Ivar’s jealousy – you go back to your room. Ivar is, of course, by your side like a bodyguard. “If we weren’t negotiating with Ecbert, I would have gladly punched him in the face…” Ivar whispers as the elevator takes you to your floor.

“Ivar, don’t be irritated by it. I don’t care about this Ecbert. I answered only out of politeness and I especially remained very professional.”

“Yes it is true, you have been very professional. I am… how do you say…” Ivar is looking for his words with an embarrassed look on his face.

“Proud of me?” There’s a big smile on your face because you know that’s exactly what he can’t say.

Ivar sketches a slight smile and does not answer. He’s too proud to admit what he feels for you. You arrive in front of your suite and Ivar glances to the left and then to the right before slamming you against the door of your room while kissing you passionately.

You put your arms on his broad, muscular shoulders. He holds you with one hand on your waist as he stabilizes himself with his crutch in his other hand. His tongue quickly finds yours. He’s greedy for your body. He can’t help but bite your lower lip when he decides to break the kiss.

You both enter your suite without saying a word. You put your bag on the sofa and put your jewels on the little table. Ivar goes directly into your room, he settles at the edge of your bed and when you enter the room, your eyes unfailingly find his own. His blue eyes pierce you and he has a dark look. A dominating look.

“Please settle next to me,” his tone is calm but authoritarian, so you do it.

“Yes Ivar, what do you want from me?” your voice is soft and fearless.

“Do you trust me?” He turns to you and says these words.

With a dubious air, you say, “Yes, why?”

“Here, it is me who asks the questions! Remember what I told you about my tie?”

“Yes, I remember Ivar.”

“Know that you are mine now! No man will ever lay his hands on you.” He gets up hard to position himself in front of you and pulls out a grey tie from his pocket. “Take off your dress and give me your hands!”

You swallow then pass each strap of your dress over your shoulders, you make a small movement of the pelvis to make it pass under your buttocks and finally you let it slide along your legs. It falls at your feet. From now on, you’re only wearing your black lace thong.

Then you turn your palms towards the sky and hand them over to Ivar. He ties your hands with his tie, makes two turns to join them, and ends up with a loop tight enough but not too tight so that he doesn’t cut off your blood circulation.

“Now lie down on the bed.” This a different Ivar standing in front of you. You don’t say a word and you do what he tells you to do. You step back slowly and you manage to sit on the edge of your bed. Ivar supports himself with the edge of the bed then drops his crutch which falls to the ground. He takes off his suit jacket and puts it delicately on the chair behind him, and undoes the buttons of his shirt one by one. Then he drops it along his arms and poses it on the jacket.

With the strength of his arms, he crawls up to you on the bed and hovers above you “Are you ready to satisfy all my desires and that I satisfy yours?”

“Yes…Ivar…”

It’s going to be a long, warm night…

**********

Thank you all for your reading

@youbloodymadgenius @waiting4inspiration @whenimaunicorn @zuxiezendler @therealcalicali @peaceisadirtyword @peachyboneless @bonniebird @salt-is-a-terrible-currency @saldelys @flokisdaughter @flowers-in-your-hayr @honestsycrets @oddsnendsfanfics @ijustwant2write @thevikingsheaux @castielsangelsx @alexhoghsource @a-mess-of-fandoms @laketaj24 @ivarswickedqueen @ivarsshieldmadien @hrhbella @lisinfleur @heathenarmyimagines @car-karaoke @vikings-imagine

#ivar the boneless #modern ivar #modern hvitserk #story #fanfic #vikings #kattegat #ragnarssons #reader #couple

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hslllot · 3 years

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Part I. Draft Day

fic masterlist | rated: m, mature | word count: 4.6k content/warning: hockey harry, nosey family members, a very brief mention of anxiety, overzealous hockey stans.

DRAFT REPORT: The 411 on Harry Styles by John Michaelson for Sportsnet

There’s this kid named Harry Styles. He plays hockey. Ever heard of him?

At this point there’s not much else to be said about the british Fighting Hawks’ centre, a lock to be the No.1 pick in the 2015 NHL Draft.

Dubbed a generational talent, Styles’ abilities are at a level typically only seen in video games. We all know the Edmonton Oilers will select him with the first overall pick on June 26. In years to come, hockey fans from around the globe (but especially Oilers fans) will be on the edge of their seats, watching to see if the phenom can develop into a future Hockey Hall of Fame talent the way Wayne Gretzky and Mario Lemieux did.

Here’s what you need to know about Harry Styles:

Age on June 26: 19 Birthplace: Redditch, Worcestershire, England Current team: University of North Dakota Fighting Hawks Position: Centre Shoots: Left Height: 6-foot Weight: 190 lbs NHL Central Scouting Rank (North American): 1st

Harry Styles is a franchise-changing player in every sense of the word. He looked like a pro player even before he flew across the pond at a young age to play in the Canadian Hockey League. This has been a long time coming but the future is finally here.

He is talented beyond his years and always has been… Styles has played against older competition his entire career. Growing up in the small village of Holmes Chapel in Cheshire, England, the options for minor hockey teams were limited. Styles struggled to find a team in his age group that matched his talent level and was forced to play with older kids - and even then his talent was unmatched. Like the two other players from the UK currently playing in the NHL, Styles eventually had to leave home and play junior hockey in Canada, where he still had to play up a year against Canadian kids that grew up in a country that eats, sleeps, and breathes the game.

He should have been drafted 1st overall last year… Styles shocked the hockey world in 2013 when, instead of declaring for the 2014 NHL Draft, he announced he would be attending the University of North Dakota and lead the Fighting Hawks to an NCAA Championship. Styles, ever the media-trained athlete, dodged questions about why he chose to go to university for a year before joining the NHL, simply stating “University was always a part of the plan, no matter what happened with hockey.” The hockey community let out a collective sigh of relief when his agent, Jeffrey Azoff (whose father was, coincidentally, Wayne Gretzky’s agent), announced shortly after his championship win that after one year at UND, Styles would be declaring for the 2015 Draft.

His trophy case is full... Harry Styles has won pretty much every individual hockey award he could possibly win in his career so far. During his CHL career with the Vancouver Giants he won Rookie of the Year, multiple MVP awards, the award for most goals, assists, and overall points, and scholastic player of the year. During his short-lived NCAA career with UND, he won Rookie of the Year, the Hobey Baker Award as the top men’s hockey player, and was named to the Academic All-American team. Unfortunately, Great Britain’s ice hockey team will not be qualifying for the Olympics or the World Championships any time soon, so unless Styles applies for Canadian citizenship, international trophies and medals will be difficult to come by. Regardless, I have a feeling that there will be many Stanley Cups in his future.

He really hates underperforming… The kid puts a lot of pressure on himself. As we have seen with many successful athletes, an insatiable inner drive to compete can lead to greatness. Styles has that drive to be great and can be his own worst critic. “When I was growing up, my mum was worried about me because I was a bit of a perfectionist.” Styles told The Hockey News back in December. “When I had a bad game, I would get so upset about it. It’s just how I am and how I think every athlete should be. Good is never enough. It’s important to always keep learning and growing to better yourself.”

He is excited to play for the Oilers… Not that he would have anything bad to say about any of the 30 NHL teams, but the Oilers do hold a special place in Styles’ heart. “It’s a great hockey town with fans that are super passionate about the game.” He told The Hockey News. “They’ve been on a bit of a slide the last couple years but the team has a great history. Not many people watch the NHL where I’m from, but my dad was always interested in it and that’s how I got into the game. He was an Oilers fan during their dynasty years with Gretzky and Messier… So if they do end up drafting me first overall, I’ll feel honored to be a part of the team, and it’ll be a nice tribute to my dad.”

Be sure to catch our live 2015 NHL Draft coverage on June 26 starting at 5pm EST/2pm PT only on Sportsnet.

“With the first overall pick in the 2015 NHL Entry Draft the Edmonton Oilers are proud to select, from Holmes Chapel in England, Harry Styles.”

The room erupted in loud cheers and applause as the Edmonton Oilers drafted the National Hockey League’s newest and most sought after commodity.

Y/N’s closest friends and extended family roamed around her parents’ living room, congratulating one another with hugs and handshakes like one of their own family members was just drafted. That wasn’t the case though, they were all just deeply invested in the hockey team and the boy from England that was meant to turn things around after so many years of losing. They were so invested, in fact, that the family organized a gathering similar to something you might see on a holiday, like Thanksgiving or Christmas.

While it was not a normal holiday, for Y/N’s family it was just as significant. It was Draft Day. And every hockey fan in North America wanted Harry Styles to play for their team.

“That’s quite the suit, isn’t it?” Her uncle Will pointed to the television where the young man is dressed in an ornate red floral suit and black dress shirt. The suit was flashier than what most hockey players would wear, but it’s clear that Harry Styles is not like most hockey players. The camera panned to him as he stood up from his seat and hugged the two brunette women sitting next to him. He stuck out like a sore thumb among a sea of other young hockey players all dressed in variations of black and grey as they patiently waited to be drafted from the stands of the BB&T Centre in Florida. It was clear to Y/N that, much like his hockey skills, Harry Styles’ fashion sense was superior compared to his peers.

There was an air of excitement in the room as the draft party, all clad in blue and orange jerseys, watched the generational talent walk down the stairs of the arena and make his way to the stage. They collectively held their breath, the room becoming silent, when he arrived at the stage where both the owner and general manager of the team were waiting to greet him. Harry shook their hands before they handed him his own blue and orange jersey. As he slipped the jersey over his head and posed for a photograph with the executives, the silence in the room broke and excited conversations and speculations for the upcoming season continued. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a stir in her belly and a sense of anticipation for what the upcoming hockey season would bring.

Her thoughts lingered on the man on the screen, wondering what it might be like to meet him, when her brother pulled her out of her reverie. “Can you believe you’ll be working with the Harry Styles?”

No - she couldn’t quite believe it.

In fact, everything happening in her life right now seemed a bit too good to be true.

Set to start her third year of university in September and having to complete mandatory practicum hours in order to graduate the following year, she somehow managed to secure a placement with her favourite hockey team. The Oilers were only taking three students from the university program and everyone in the program wanted one of those spots.

The application process was incredibly stressful for Y/N. One telephone interview, one in-person interview, and a practical session where she had to demonstrate her athletic therapy skills to the team’s head trainer. She did well with the phone interview, given that they weren’t able to see her. She was able to look down at the talking points she wrote in her notebook and pause to take a couple deep breaths without making it obvious that she was reeling on the inside. Her anxiety got the best of her during the in-person interview though, freezing up when they asked simple questions like “why do you want to work for the team?” and “what experience do you have working with sport teams?”

She left the interview feeling embarrassed, but instead of taking the time to wallow and feel sorry for herself, she went home and spent hours upon hours taping her brothers’ ankles in preparation for the practical session the following day. There was no way she was going to let the opportunity fall through the cracks. Her dream of working for the Oilers was the whole reason she decided to go to school for athletic therapy in the first place. She was never any good at playing hockey but she knew in her heart that, someday, she would work for the team she loved so much. At the end of it all, she reckons her taping skills saved her, so she took her brother out to his favourite restaurant to thank him for letting her use his ankles for practice.

Fast forward a few months and she’s now stood in her parents living room thinking about how in three months she could be taping Harry Styles’ ankles.

At the time of her application, no one knew the Oilers would be picking first in the draft. The aura around the team was a bit negative at the time (because of all the losing) and there were rumours circulating the city that some of the star players were rude to the support staff and liked to party a little too hard at The Ranch (which contributed to said losing).

When she first decided to apply for the position her father warned her, “there’s a saying that you should never meet your heroes. What if they’re all a bunch of assholes and you end up hating the team you’ve loved your whole life?”

Y/N ignored her father’s warning but silently hoped that others would feel that way, narrowing down the applicant pool. However, the rumours circulating the team had no effect on the amount of students applying for the job. The fans were loyal in Edmonton (a city not known by many around the world unless you follow hockey or are compelled to visit North America’s largest shopping mall) and although the team was losing, every kid studying athletic therapy wanted a shot with their favourite team. Y/N knew of at least fifteen students that she beat out for the position.

Now, it’s late June and there is a general hype surrounding the team, as if Harry was about to come in and shine a light on the Decade of Darkness (a term Oilers fans use to characterize the recent years in which their favourite team hadn’t made the playoffs). That’s a lot of pressure to put on one person, but Y/N supposed that he’s been dealing with this kind of pressure since he was sixteen, maybe even younger.

Everyone at her family’s draft party was, yet again, watching the television intently while Harry gave his first interview as an official member of the Edmonton Oilers hockey team. While Y/N normally loved watching these types of interviews, she was a bit zoned out- mesmerized by the look of him. The suit, the wavy chestnut hair, the dimple in his left cheek, the accent. The accent. She had never really been that attracted to hockey players, which many people found hard to believe given that she’s such a fan of the sport. All of the guys from her high school who played minor hockey were rotten and thought they were better than everyone else. She did have favourite players in the NHL, players that she loved and admired, but they were her favourites because she loves how they play the game, not because she wants to fuck them.

There was something different about Harry Styles though. Not necessarily that she wanted to fuck him (especially since she recently signed an employment contract that would forbid it), but she was certainly feeling intrigued by him. He doesn’t look like the boys she went to high school with. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s British, or that he opted for a suit that set him apart from the rest of them, or maybe it was the duality of the way he held himself with unshakeable confidence in his floral suit, his gaze set intensely on the person interviewing him, posture strong and dominant, while simultaneously speaking so softly, his words laced with kindness and gratitude.

“When do you start working with the team, Y/N?” Her uncle Will asked from across the room, prompting everyone to look in her direction waiting for her response.

The news that Y/N would be working for the Oilers this season shook the family. As soon as her dad shared the news with his brother, she started receiving messages expressing congratulations from her many aunts, uncles, and cousins, shortly followed by messages asking if she would be getting free tickets to games.

“Um, mid-September, for training camp.”

“You get to meet Harry Styles?” her 9 year old cousin, Billy, asked.

“I do. I will be one of the team’s trainers.” The young boy held a look of wonder on his face, as if realizing for the first time that that his oldest cousin was actually kind of cool.

“Do you think he’s single?” Her aunt Maria asked with a smirk on her face, turning to the television to look at Harry Styles. Aunt Maria doesn’t care much for hockey but she never failed to mention which players she believed to be handsome. She was also the nosey type of aunt that liked to inquire about Y/N’s dating life. “Maybe you two will hit it off.”

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes at her aunt, waving off her comment. But before she could retort, her father chimed in. “Ha! Yea, right! That’s not going to happen. She’s not allowed to date anyone on the team, it’s the rules. Plus, Y/N knows better than to get involved with any of these guys.”

Her father was right. It is the rules. Y/N thought back to when she went into the Oilers headquarters back in April to sign her employment contract. She asked a lot of questions, making sure she understood everything about the document she was signing.

“Personal relationships? Even friendships are forbidden?” she asked the head trainer, TJ, for clarification.

“It depends. You can be friendly, sure, but I would avoid spending time with the players outside of training and game times. Could be seen as unprofessional.”

Y/N understood why such rules were in place, and she had no issue with it at the time. A woman securing a position on a professional sports team was rare, let alone a woman securing a position with a professional men’s team. She knew when she chose this career path that it would always be an uphill battle and that she’d have to work harder and be more strategic than the men in her field. She wanted- no, needed to excel and prove that she could be a talented athletic therapist and a valuable member of the team, so she had no intention whatsoever of messing that up with any type of personal relationships. She also understood the power dynamic between the professional athletes and the support staff, the different ways in which power can be abused, and how personal relationships could complicate things. It all made sense to her. Plus, she was happy enough with just becoming friends with the other trainers and she probably wouldn’t have a lot of free time, anyways, balancing her practicum and her school work.

Today, however, she couldn’t help the very slight pull on her heartstrings at the thought of not getting to know Harry Styles on a more personal level.

As if he’d even be interested in the first place.

In a hotel restaurant in Sunrise, Florida, a few hours after the draft, Harry Styles sat with his mother Anne, sister Gemma, and agent Jeff, celebrating his newly drafted status over a bottle of champagne. He knew he should be feeling elated, like it was the best day of his life, but all he felt was exhausted. The conversation at the table happened around him while he sat in his own head, unable to think about anything but what it might feel like to be tucked into his bed in his childhood bedroom in Holmes Chapel.

The weeks leading up to the draft were an absolute circus filled with interviews and talking to the media nearly every day (he hates talking to the media), shooting promo for all of his endorsements (he’s thankful for the money they give him but he knows he is an excruciatingly terrible actor), and flying around North America to visit all of the potential cities where he might be drafted (it was a pointless tour because everyone knew where he was going to end up).

He had only tonight to celebrate with his family before it was all set to start again. Him and Jeff will fly off to Edmonton tomorrow morning for a week to speak to the media there, meet the teammate he’ll be living with, and do a surprise skating session with some kids at a summer camp. Meanwhile, his mum and sister will fly back to England.

“Any idea where you’ll live then?” Anne asked her son, pulling him out of his thoughts and back into the conversation.

“Hm?” He hadn’t a clue what his mum just asked him but he’d hate to admit that rather than listening to anything the three of them had been talking about for the last hour he’d been thinking about how he’d rather be sleeping “Sorry, I think the champagne’s got to me a bit.”

“The team’s got him living with one of his older teammates and his family.” Jeff stepped in, knowing Harry wasn’t fully paying attention. “They do this with the young guys to get them used to living on their own. Teach ‘em how to cook, do laundry, and keep ‘em in line. He won’t be partying every night and bringing girls back to his place if he lives with the guy’s wife and kids.”

“Oh please,” Gemma chimed in. “Not like any of that would be an issue for Harry. He’s been away from home for years. And he’s hardly got time for partying and dating.”

Harry shot Jeff a look warning him to keep his mouth shut. When Harry found out about the living arrangements the team had planned for him, he was less than pleased. After all, he’d just spent the last year living in a dorm room at the University of North Dakota where he had complete freedom. Gemma was right, he didn’t have much time for partying and dating. But he liked having his own space, and he really liked being able to invite someone over after a game, either to celebrate a win or relieve some stress after a loss.

“You never know, some of these young guys get their first big pay cheque and a taste of the big leagues and it can go off the rails pretty fast.”

“I like to think I raised my baby to know better than to get caught up in a pay cheque.” Anne placed a comforting hand on her son’s shoulder and he quickly reciprocated, reaching up to place his hand over hers.

Not liking where this conversation was going, Harry finally cut in. “You did. And Jeffrey, you know I’m not that kinda guy. Either way, none of this matters if I don’t make it past training camp. For all we know I could be going back to the juniors for the season.”

“Doesn’t matter who you are or what kinda guy you are, H, it’s just what the team does. It’s tradition. And c’mon, I know you like to keep your expectations in check, but the team’s made it pretty clear that you’re gonna be in the starting lineup come October.”

Jeff was right. The team had all but promised that he would make it past training camp. The question wasn’t if he’d make it past training camp, but in what shape he’d be in and how long it would take for the team to start winning games.

“The coach said I’m small and need to bulk up, especially since I’ll be playing against older, more experienced men.” Harry could feel the weight of his mum’s gaze as she gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not quite where I need to be yet, but I’ll get there.”

Harry and his family were stood in the hotel lobby with Jeff, convening on plans for the morning when he felt a small tug on the hem of his red floral suit jacket. He spun himself around, ready to confront the individual bold enough to touch him without his consent, to find a young girl, no older than five years old staring up at him.

Harry looked at her, a bit taken aback and undoubtedly with a bit of confusion written on his face, and then spotted, a few feet behind her, two individuals who were most likely her parents. Suddenly, he realized that he may have actually had a few too many glasses of champagne and immediately tried to compose himself, standing straighter and trying to will away the exhaustion in his eyes and the haziness in his mind.

“Oh - um, hello there.” He cleared his throat before using the soft voice he reserves for adorable, small children like the one stood before him.

“Are you Harry Styles?” She asked with wide eyes and a small, timid voice.

“I am, sweetheart. What can I do for you?”

A bright smile etched itself onto her face. But instead of answering him, she looked back at the adults standing behind her, motioning for them to help as she was too shy to proceed on her own. The man, who Harry presumed was her father, moved to stand beside her.

“This is Millie. She wanted to say hi to you because she’s a big fan of yours.”

Harry lowered himself in front of the young girl so that he was crouched down and eye-level with her. “Hi Millie, it’s a real pleasure to meet you.” He reached out to shake the young girl’s small hand. “Have you got anything that I could sign? Or I suppose we could take a photo if you’d like?”

The young girl removed her hand from Harry’s, nodding her head eagerly. She began to unzip her jacket, revealing a bright orange Edmonton Oilers jersey underneath.

“Oh? Look at that! You’re an Oilers fan. In Florida?” Harry lifted himself from his crouched position and directed his question toward at the girl’s father.

“Yes, well, we actually travelled here from Edmonton, to watch the draft in person.” Harry raised his eyebrows in shock. He knew that the flight from Edmonton to Florida is long, and likely expensive. The tickets to attend the draft live probably weren’t cheap either. “It’s not every day your favourite team picks first overall! Let alone gets to pick a player like you. We were so excited so we decided to make a family trip out of it. Turn around, Millie, show him the back!” Millie’s father handed Harry a sharpie as Millie turned her back to Harry.

It was at that moment that Harry started to understand the weight of the moment. The name ‘STYLES’ was embroidered on the back of Millie’s Oilers jersey, above the number ‘15’ indicating his draft year. He was speechless. This was, after all, the first time he was seeing his name in the classic Oilers’ orange and blue colours adorned on a fan’s back.

The feeling was different from earlier at the draft when they presented him with his own jersey. This one belonged to someone else. Someone bought his jersey before he’d even ever played a single minute for the team. They flew across the continent, from Edmonton to Florida, just to watch him get drafted. It was a lot for his hazy, champagne-diluted mind to take in.

Realizing he’d just been standing there staring at the jersey, he cleared his throat once again in hopes that he could hide the unknown thoughts and emotions he was trying to reconcile. “Wow, um, I didn’t realize you could get these already.”

Millie’s father laughed, “Man, they’ve been selling these in Edmonton since they announced we’d be picking first in the draft.” Again, the feeling was overwhelming for Harry.

We’d be picking first in the draft.

To this family, and probably others in Edmonton, the Oilers were “we”. They win together, they lose together. If the Oilers pick first in the draft, they all pick first. It was their team. And now he, Harry, was a part of that “we”.

Harry reached down to sign the jersey on Millie’s back, quickly scribbling his autograph on the left side. As he straightened himself, he felt Anne move to stand beside him, apparently having sensed her son’s unease and unconscious need for his mother to join him in this moment.

“Hi, I’m Harry’s mum, Anne. Would you like me to take a picture of the four of you?” Millie’s father eagerly handed his phone to Anne and waved his wife over to be in the photo. Several photos of Harry and the family were taken, followed by a few of just Harry and Millie.

“Would you mind if I took one of Harry and Millie on my phone as well?” Anne asked as she snapped the last photo. “This is the first time Harry’s met a fan wearing his name on an Oilers jersey. We’d like to remember it.”

The family was more than happy to oblige so Anne took a few more photos on her phone, including one where Millie’s back was to the camera and the ‘STYLES’ name in full view.

It was so like his mum to understand how special the moment was and to come in and save him. He couldn’t quite articulate what he was feeling in that moment, as understanding emotions and sentimentality were not his greatest strengths, and he most definitely never would have asked to take a photo to keep for himself had she not done it.

The obvious feelings were joy and gratitude. Every day he was thankful to play the game he loved, to be successful, and to have fans that loved and supported him. It didn’t always make sense that complete strangers paid him so much attention just for playing a game, but he accepted it and always tried to show those strangers kindness in return. However, there was another feeling lingering, one that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Looking at his mum, he knew that she knew what it was. She always knew. And certainly she would make him talk about it later.

As they separated from the family and walked toward the hotel elevators, where Gemma and Jeff were waiting, Anne grabbed onto her son’s arm, holding him close as they walked side by side.

“Do you see that they love you already, my darling?” She asked. Harry raised an eyebrow at his mum, unsure of what she was going on about. “I know you. I know that you care what people think and that you are scared to disappoint them. You just need to step out on the ice and be yourself. Just be Harry. They already love you and this is only just the beginning.”

WOW! OK. I know it’s a bit of a slow start, but I wanted this chapter to be more of an introduction to harry and the mc and to the fan culture that harry is about to experience!! I’ve already started on the next part so that should be up before Christmas! If you’ve made it this far, all I can say is that I love you and appreciate you. If you liked it, please let me know. I debated not posting this so many times (and I might even regret it later) so feedback will certainly ease my troubled mind!! I ALWAYS LOVE YOU, BUT ESPECIALLY TODAY!! xx Shan.

Harry’s Draft Day Look

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#wow i'm so nervous to post this #generational #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles series #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #hockey harry styles #athlete harry styles

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