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musicforastylesrestaurant · 7 months ago

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By Order Of The Crimson Brotherhood.

(peaky blinder!harry)

masterlist || ask me anything

in which, the year is 1921, and the city of manchester is under the control of the ruthless gang the crimson brotherhood, so when there leaders wife gets mobbed in the streets on her way home from the farmers market, the styles brothers make sure they know she is one of there own.

word count - 2.6k

authors note - ik this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea but i have 100% been in my peaky blinders era as of the beginning of the month, im already on season four 🙈🙈 and thought it would be kind of cute to join the two worlds together, don’t know if this will turn out any good but who knows?? anywho enjoy angels 💗💞

January, 1921.

Harry Edward Styles, a man born and raised in the city of Manchester, a man known for his ruthlessness, his strong will and his dangerous antics.

Him aswell as his brothers roamed the streets of Holmes Chapel, with razor blades down into the flat caps which ultimately led to fear seeping into the bones of there enemies.

Which they had a lot of.

The Styles Brothers were well renown around those ends, the family always had been, there father wasn’t present and there mother died when the youngest brother was barely a year old.

Harry met you, his gorgeous girl at the age of nineteen, the two of you were childhood sweethearts, destined to be together no matter the circumstances.

You were wandering around the streets, when you bumped into him and his elder brothers Charlie and George. You were about to fall to the floor but your wrist was captured in the hands of the leader, who caught you and raised you back to your feet carefully.

You asked how you could return the favour and he muttered something along the lines of ‘you could let me take you out for a night on the town��

And the rest was history.

When the war broke out, Harry knew for a fact that he would be getting called up to represent his country, and at the point the two of you were already engaged, but he demanded that the two of you be husband and wife before he was shipped off, explaining that if he was to die, he wanted to die as your husband.

So, the two of you had a small ceremony and you officially became Mr and Mrs. Styles.

When he returned home from war, he demeanour was slightly colder due to everything that he had seen and been through, he was colder to everyone around him, except for you.

He could never be angry, harsh, callous or aggravated around you.

People feared him before he went to war, but when he returned it was like he was a ticking time bomb, one wrong move and heads would be blown.

He ruled Manchester.

And that would never, ever change.

In the heart of Manchester, you move with the grace of a queen, your every step echoing the legacy of the Crimson Brotherhood, the notorious gang led by your husband, Harry Styles.

Despite the weight of your marital ties, you refuse to be confined by the expectations placed upon you.

Alone at the market, you weave through the stalls with purpose, selecting the finest ingredients for the dinner you plan to prepare for your husband, and his brothers.

Determination fuels your steps as you pick out fresh produce, savory meats, and delicate spices, each item chosen with care to create a meal worthy of the Crimson Brotherhood.

You approach the butcher's stall with a slightly sense of innocence, the scent of freshly cut meat mingling with the bustling atmosphere of the market. As you exchange pleasantries with the butcher, you can't help but admire the array of cuts on display, each one a testament to the skill and expertise of the person behind the counter.

"Good afternoon, love. What can I get for you today?"

Returning the smile, you reply, "I'm looking for four round beef steaks, please."

One for you, one for Harry, one for Charlie and one for George.

The butcher nods, already reaching for the desired cuts. "Ah, excellent choice. Coming right up."

As they expertly select the steaks, you engage in friendly banter. "Busy day at the market?"

The butcher chuckles, their hands deftly working the meat. "Always is, especially with the sun shining like this. But I can't complain, keeps me on my toes."

You nod in agreement, admiring their skill. "I can imagine. Thank you for always providing such quality cuts."

With a satisfied grin, the butcher presents the four round beef steaks, neatly packaged and ready for you. "There you go, love. These should do the trick."

"Thank you so much," you reply gratefully, accepting the package. "I really appreciate it."

"It's my pleasure," the butcher says warmly. "Enjoy your meal."

With the package of steaks safely tucked into your basket, you bid farewell to the lively atmosphere of the farmers market. The sun's warm rays still linger, casting a golden glow over the bustling streets of Manchester.

As you walk, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at having secured the ingredients for tonight's dinner.

Reaching into your basket, you retrieve a pair of gloves, slipping them onto your hands with practiced ease.

Just as you're about to slip the second glove onto your hand, a sudden grip tightens around your arm, pulling you forcefully backward.

Startled, you gasp as you're dragged into the dimly lit entrance of a secluded alleyway, the bustling sounds of the market fading into the distance behind you.

Heart pounding, you struggle against your assailant, your fingers instinctively tightening around the basket's handle, the package of steaks forgotten in your grip.

Panic surges through you as you're dragged deeper into the darkness, your mind racing with fear and uncertainty.

As the man's grip tightens around your arm, you're suddenly face to face with a stranger whose features are etched with menace. His blonde hair falls haphazardly across his scarred face, the jagged line drawing your attention to the intensity in his eyes.

The overpowering stench of rotten egg fills your nostrils, sending a shiver down your spine as he speaks.

"Just the girl I've been looking for," he growls, his words sending a chill through your trembling body. Tears blur your vision as you stare back at him, unable to comprehend the terror unfolding before you.

He was Irish.

In a voice thick with malice, he continues, his words slicing through the air like a blade. "Your husband and his brothers owe me, and I aim to collect. And what better way to send a message than through his darling wife?"

You try to speak, to plead for mercy, but fear has stolen your voice. Before you can utter a word, his fist connects with your jaw, sending you sprawling to the ground.

Gasping for breath, you curl into yourself, the pain radiating through your body like fire.

The man's laughter echoes off the walls, cold and cruel. "They crossed me, and now it's time to pay the price. And you, my dear, are the perfect pawn in this little game of ours."

As he delivers blow after brutal blow, each impact driving the air from your lungs, you cling to the faint hope that someone will come to your rescue.

But as the darkness closes in around you, you realize that you are utterly alone, at the mercy of a man whose cruelty knows no bounds.

With aching limbs, you muster the strength to push yourself upright, the world spinning around you as you struggle to focus through the haze of pain and fear.

Casting a wary glance over your shoulder, you retrieve the basket of food that had fallen to the ground during the attack.

With trembling hands, you wipe the dried blood from the corner of your mouth, the metallic taste lingering on your tongue as a grim reminder of the violence you've endured.

Summoning every ounce of willpower, you force yourself to take a step forward, the basket clutched tightly to your chest. Your movements are slow and unsteady, each step sending waves of agony rippling through your battered body.

As you reach the end of the alleyway, you pause, casting a furtive glance around to ensure that no one is watching. The last thing you need is for someone to see you in this state, vulnerable and exposed.

With a silent prayer for strength, you begin the agonizing journey home, every step a testament to your resilience in the face of unspeakable cruelty. Tears threaten to spill from your waterline, but you refuse to let them fall, determined to maintain a facade of strength until you reach the safety of your own four walls.

With each agonizing step, you inch closer to the familiar sight of 24 Spring Lane, your sanctuary from the horrors of the outside world.

The journey that once felt like a mere stroll now stretches out before you like an eternity, every movement a testament to the relentless ache that pulses through your battered body.

Finally, you reach the doorstep, the key trembling in your hand as you struggle to insert it into the lock. Your fingers fumble with the familiar motion, the simple act of unlocking the door now a monumental task in your weakened state.

As you push open the door and step inside, relief washes over you, tempered only by the searing pain that courses through your body with each labored breath.

The injuries inflicted upon you by your assailant are beginning to take their toll, the dull throb in your ribs now accompanied by a sharp sting at the top of your eyebrow.

Unaware of your husband's presence, you stagger into the living room, your focus consumed by the overwhelming need to seek refuge from the torment of the outside world. But as you drop the basket to the floor and collapse onto the ground, a cry of pain escapes your lips, the weight of your injuries too much to bear alone.

In the dim light of the room, you catch a glimpse of Harry sitting in the corner, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

His expression is unreadable, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond your line of sight.

As you collapse onto the floor, your body wracked with pain, Harry's instinct kicks in, propelling him across the room in a blur of motion. With a sense of urgency, he drops his cigarette and rushes to your side, his hands reaching out to catch you before your skull can meet the unforgiving wooden floor.

His eyes widen in shock and concern as he takes in the extent of your injuries, his heart clenching at the sight of blood staining your face and clothes. Gently, he cradles the back of your head, his touch both tender and urgent as he ensures your safety in the midst of the chaos.

"M’Love, what happened?" Harry's voice is thick with worry, his usually steady demeanor shaken by the sight of you in such distress.

He carefully brushes the hair from your face, his touch feather-light against your bruised skin.

You struggle to find the words to answer him, the pain making it difficult to form coherent thoughts, let alone speak. But as you meet his gaze, the unspoken understanding that passes between you is enough to convey the depths of your suffering.

Without hesitation, Harry gathers you into his arms, cradling you against his chest with a fierce protectiveness that belies the tenderness in his touch. As he holds you close, you feel a sense of safety wash over you, a comforting reminder that no matter the trials you may face, you will always find refuge in his embrace.

As Harry holds you close, his voice filled with concern, he gently urges you to tell him who is responsible for your injuries. But fear grips you tightly, paralyzing your voice as you shake your head vehemently, unable to form the words to convey the terror that still grips your heart.

"Please, love," Harry implores, his eyes searching yours for any sign of reassurance. "Y’need to tell me who did this. I won't let ‘em hurt you again, I promise."

But the memory of the man's cruel laughter and the violence he inflicted upon you looms large in your mind, filling you with a sense of dread at the thought of facing him again. How can you trust that Harry's promise will hold against such ruthless brutality?

Tears stream down your face as you cling to Harry, your body trembling with the weight of your fear and pain. You long to confide in him, to share the burden of your suffering, but the words remain trapped within you, a silent scream of anguish and despair.

In response to your silent plea, Harry's grip tightens around you, his arms a shield against the darkness that threatens to consume you.

"I swear to you, (Y/N)," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm against the turmoil raging within you. "Whoever did this won't ever be able to hurt you again. I'll make sure of it."

"I... I don't know his name," you manage to say, your voice trembling with fear and pain. "But he... he had blonde hair and... and a scar."

Harry's expression darkens as he processes your words. "Patrick McDonald," he mutters, his voice laced with anger and recognition. "Bloody hell."

Another wave of pain radiates from your ribs, causing you to instinctively turn your head into your husband's chest, seeking comfort in his embrace.

As you lean against him, Harry's arms tighten around you, a silent vow of protection against the threat that looms on the horizon.

"I'll deal with him," he promises, his voice a low growl. "No one hurts my wife and gets away with it."

“George, Charlie!”

You hadn't even realized they were in the house, lost in the chaos of your own pain and fear, but now they appear, their presence a welcome relief amidst the turmoil.

With wide eyes, George and Charlie rush into the room, their expressions shifting from confusion to concern as they take in the sight of you battered and bruised on the floor.

"What happened to ‘er?" George demands, his voice edged with worry as he kneels beside you, his hands hovering over your injuries.

Harry's jaw clenches with barely contained fury as he speaks the name that has haunted your nightmares since the attack.

"Patrick McDonald," he growls, his voice thick with anger and determination.

Charley lets out a harsh breath, his expression darkening with recognition.

"Bloody hell," he mutters, his fists clenching at his sides.

As the gravity of the situation sinks in, George's gaze flickers between you and his brothers, his features set in a steely resolve.

"We need to find him," he declares, his voice firm with determination.

Harry nods in agreement, his eyes burning with a fierce determination.

"And when we do, he'll wish he'd never laid a hand on her," he vows, his voice a low growl.

With trembling hands, you grip tight onto your husband's waistcoat, your eyes pleading with him not to leave your side.

"Please, H," you beg, your voice wavering with fear and desperation. "Don't leave me."

Harry's gaze softens as he looks down at you, his heart aching at the sight of your pain.

"I have to, m’love," he murmurs, his voice laced with regret. "That bastard deserves hell f’what he did to you, and he's going to get what's coming to him."

You shake your head frantically, tears streaming down your bruised cheeks.

"But I need you here," you plead, your voice barely a whisper amidst the chaos of the room. "I'm scared, H. Please don't leave me alone."

For a moment, Harry's resolve wavers, his love for you outweighing the thirst for vengeance burning within him. But then, with a heavy heart, he gently extricates himself from your grasp, his eyes filled with determination as he rises to his feet.

"I promise, (Y/N)," he says, his voice firm with resolve. "When we find him, he's going to hurt just like he hurt you, s’a promise, and I never, ever break promises. He’ll get what’s coming to him one way or another.”

“By order of the Crimson Brotherhood."

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thepersonnamedsam · 1 year ago

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headcanons of the genz!driver

pairing: the genz!driver

summary: some cute and chaotic headcanons of the genz!driver

warnings: none :)

note: we love ourselves a chaotic queen

masterlist / taglist

we all know that a 18/19 year old will cause chaos on the grid, much more even if she is allowed to be there and not get evicted

like there was this one time, where she snook into the drivers conference, she was late, as usual, and instead of being silent and unnoticed, she let the door fall shut loudly and announced her great entry with: „welcome my fellow drivers, the best one has arrived and will grace your presence from now on. please, do not stop the meeting on my behalf, i am just here to look pretty.“

or there was a time when the FIA announced that no bikes on the track were allowed anymore and what do you think, at the next race, she arrived with her super fancy bike, blasting bicycle from queen singing the lyrics and riding her bike around the track, obviously

we love ourselves a confident queen

and she is so relatable

like, she posts vlogs on youtube of her life, stuff with a day at the paddock or a day outside the paddock and look, even though she is famous, her life is so relatable

she can’t drive, (seb learned it with her though), she struggles with her hair, almost every day, doing normal stuff is really hard because of mental health problems, her anxiety sparks in situations she doesn’t know, her jokes are weird and dark and almost no one understands them. it’s like she is almost a normal teenager

young fans, female ones especially, look up to her so much, just because she is honest, shares her struggles and is so supportive about it. depression and anxiety are valid and is not something to hide, it’s okay to struggle and she talks so openly about it. fans absolutely adore her and because of her, some find inspiration to do stuff they wouldn’t have done normally

so many young girls started karting because of her, she believes in everyone of them and is sure that they can make it big

lewis and seb are so proud of her, seeing her inspire so many people, makes them feel so so proud. seb has seen her grow up and has helped all the way from karting to formula 1

we all know that seb is the worrying one and always urges her to be careful. but lewis, oh lewis does stuff with her, that if seb actually knew what it was, he would die of a heart attack

he took her to go skydiving once, having her swear not to tell seb or lando, because he would so tell everyone else and seb would instantly know

or the one time let her have a drink with him when she was still underage, psst don’t tell seb

lewis is the cool grid dad, that lets her do stuff that she shouldn’t, always supervised though

because if you let her unsupervised, she is pure chaos

the one time her and lando got left alone, they had to get rescued by george

lando‘s car broke down

and not broke down like it just stopped working

no, his fiat jolly fell down, it laid on its side, on her side to be specific. lando and you were doing stupid stuff, putting all the weight on one side to see how much it would take to overthrow the car

it didn’t take much…

when seb found out, he didn’t let her out if his sight, always making sure she wasn’t doing something stupid that could get her injured

when seb retired, she cried like a baby. she was not sure what to do without him on the paddock, who would make sure she wouldn’t die? who made sure she was drinking enough and eating probably (it was a bit dramatic, because her personal trainer was doing that aspect of her life and not seb).

but still, she would miss seb, she would miss him a lot

that’s where danny comes, seeing her so lost and struggling, he kind of swept into her life as an older grid brother

helping her with stuff and being protective

he was not as great as seb or lewis, who is still the fun grid dad, but danny did his best

she is so happy to have all those people around her

and she is forever grateful and tries to let them know how grateful she is, but sometimes it backfires a bit

like the time she tried to gift all of them something for christmas

oh that was chaos

what do you gift 19 drivers, all at least 4 years older than her, something for christmas that is personal for them and her?

lance got alcohol, he was happy about it

she got lando some socks, he wasn’t sure why

alex got hair dye, made sense

she gifted max a stuffed lion, which he was actually happy about

but george got a shirt with a naked torso on it… she found it hilarious, he not so much

charles got a ‚sorry that your team is shit‘ bracelet

carlos got a chilli tree and a hard copy of smooth operator

zhou got a book of all of lewis‘ paddock looks

lewis got a whole gift basket with vegan stuff and toys for roscoe and a day with her

and many other weird gifts, but it shows that she is so grateful of all the people around her

we know that she always gives her best and that’s the most she can do

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @missskid , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #fernando alonso #genz driver #headcanons #genz headcanon #female driver

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calisources · 1 year ago

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GEORGE R.R MARTIN'S FIRE AND BLOOD QUOTES. all sentences here were taken from the book fire and blood which in part was adapted to hbo's house of the dragon. change pronouns, names and location as you see fit. warning for some foul language and mentions of inc*st.

“Then the storm broke, and the dragons danced.”

“A ruler needs a good head and a true heart, a cock is not essential.”

“Words are wind, but wind can fan a fire.”

“My father and my uncle fought words with steel and flame. We shall fight words with words, and put out the fires before they start.”

“The seeds of war are oft planted during times of peace.”

“Only you could have won me away from the sea. I came back from the ends of the earth for you.”

“The Iron Throne will go to the man who has the strength to seize it.”

“I fed my last husband to my dragon. If you make me take another, I may eat him myself.”

“Let no man think that the fire of the Targaryens did not burn in his veins.”

“We are as the gods made us. Strong and weak, good and bad, cruel and kind, heroic and selfish. Know that if you would rule over the kingdom of men.”

“This is a night for song and sin and drink, for come the morrow, the virtuous and the vile burn together.”

“Thrones are won with swords, not quills. Spill blood, not ink.”

“Such a fierce little thing she is, she has no need of comfort. They are wrong in that, I fear. All men need comfort.”

“When the gods are silent, lords and kings will make themselves heard.”

“I do not have the time for tears.”

“Pride goes before a fall.”

“It is always winter now.”

“I will not fight you, nor will I kneel to you. Dorne has no king. Tell your brother that.”

“But we will come again, Princess, and the next time we shall come with fire and blood.”

“Surely the Mother Above loved my children more. She took so many of them away from me.”

“The tradition amongst the Targaryens had always been to marry kin to kin. Wedding brother to sister was thought to be ideal. Failing that, a girl might wed an uncle, a cousin, or a nephew, a boy a cousin, aunt, or niece.”

“ This practice went back to Old Valyria, where it was common amongst many of the ancient families, particularly those who bred and rode dragons.”

“The blood of the dragon must remain pure, the wisdom went. ”

“Familiarity is the father of acceptance.”

“Brother, you need never kneel to me again. We shall rule this realm together, you and I.”

“All men are sinners.”

“You rose up in rebellion against your lawful queen and helped drive her from this city to her death.”

“We came here to be free of Old Valyria, and your Targaryens are Valyrian to the bone.”

“They practiced blood magic and other dark arts as well, delving deep into the earth for secrets best left buried and twisting the flesh of beasts and men to fashion monstrous and unnatural chimeras. For there sins the gods in their wroth struck them down.”

“She has such a tender heart. Give me time, and I will find a lord to cherish her.”

“Not every Targaryen needs to wield a sword and ride a dragon.”

“I would sooner she wed a lord, but if she prefers a hedge knight or a merchant or Pate the Pig Boy, I am past the point of caring, so long as she picks someone.”

“If she wants I can find a hundred men and line them up before her naked, and she can pick the one she likes.”

“I'll have no songs about how brave you died, Kingmaker. There's tens o'thousands dead on your account.”

“Who can presume to know the heart of a dragon?”

“The Red Keep has its secrets, known only to the dead.”

“He bound the land together, and made of seven kingdoms, one.”

“Sixteen Targaryens followed Aegon the Dragon to the Iron Throne, before the dynasty was at last toppled in Robert’s Rebellion. “

“Dorne has danced with dragons before, I would sooner sleep with scorpions.”

“Winter’s here. Time for us to go. No better way to die than sword in hand.”

“The High Septon was the true king of Westeros, in all but name.”

“I will leave the making of law to you, brother, I would sooner make sons.”

“And with his death, the war of ravens and envoys and marriage pacts came to an end, and the war of fire and blood began in earnest.”

“Paying coin to the usurper is proof of naught but treason.”

“Poison was regarded as a coward’s weapon, and lacking in honor.”

“For both the blacks and the greens, blood called to blood for vengeance.”

“It was a good time, a golden autumn, a time of peace and plenty. But winter was coming.”

“The confidence of youth counts for little against the cunning of age.”

“Thankfully I proved too small for the wolf to notice.”

“Such stories make for charming songs, but poor history.”

“Why be a lord when you can be a king?”

“Only the gods truly know the hearts of men, and women are full as strange.”

“Whatever her powers, it would seem Daemon Targaryen was immune to them, for little is heard of this supposed sorceress whilst the prince held Harrenhal.”

“They called themselves the Winter Wolves.”

“We have come to die for the dragon queen.”

“Under the terms of the pact, the prince’s firstborn daughter would be sent north at the age of seven, to be fostered at Winterfell until such time as she was old enough to marry Lord Cregan’s heir.”

“For the rank and file of the City Watch still loved Daemon Targaryen, the Prince of the City who had commanded them of old.”

“We are done with writing letters.”

“The North was too remote to be of much import in the fight.”

“The Dance of the Dragons is the flowery name bestowed upon the savage internecine struggle for the Iron Throne of Westeros fought between two rival branches of House Targaryen during the years 129 to 131 AC.”

“His mount was blood-red Caraxes, fiercest of all the young dragons in the Dragonpit.”

“The bells began to ring on the tenth day of the third moon of 129 AC, tolling the end of a reign.”

“These happy bastards were said to have been “born of dragonseed,” and in time became known simply as “seeds.”

“House Tyrell would take no part in this struggle.”

“For all the vaunted strength of its walls, King’s Landing fell in less than a day.”

“This is a night for song and sin and drink, for come the morrow, the virtuous and the vile burn together.”

“How many came to see the crowning remains a matter of dispute.”

“This we do know: Cregan Stark and Jacaerys Velaryon reached an accord, and signed and sealed the agreement that Grand Maester Munkun calls “the Pact of Ice and Fire” in his True Telling.”

“Here I have you to myself, day and night,when we go back, I shall be fortunate to snatch an hour with you, for every man in Westeros will want a piece of you."

“I have the dragon’s bastard in me.”

#rp meme #sentences memes #rp resources #meme call #roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt

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eviltiddyprodnz · 2 years ago

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Queen Charlotte : A Bridgerton Story Review

SPOILERS !!!! watch out bae <333

honestly, ngl I watched this show only because of the chemistry in the teaser. like the wall scene encouraged me to watch it. Bridgerton is always a little hit and miss for me in a I could not finish season 1 for the life of me but watched the next one like 8 times.

It felt a little too fast paced and people began pissing me off from episode 1 but I reminded myself it was a historical show. Although her brother just signing her away and then saying 'shut up, it's already done' made me so mad ??? like let her react ??? even further down the episodes even when he's concerned, he's like oops sorry, already done now like bitch ??? 😭😭😭 so just #uselesss and annoying !!! I am sorry his little burst @ her got me because she didn't even have time to react !!!

The wall scene comes and I'm practically ready to jump but then to me it felt like the show was going 80 kms/min I was like woah woah woah, why is he saying all the right things... this is just moving too fast. (i want to gloat about being right about being suspicious but the way all i knew i was it felt shady, still had no idea what was coming fr 😭)

they were so cute and tender :'(((( ! like this is what the show kept doing to me till we got George POV. I kept on thinking we were just skipping conversations or moving too fast or just going at it because chemistry !!! but one thing about me, i'll see a romance show through and i'm kinda glad.

the show moves too quickly in the first 3 episodes for me, especially if you're binging it like me. a part of me is glad like yes babe! keep kissing each other (their chemistry is insane!) but the other part is like ??? you're not even going to talk about things. like initially i was even mad that he got to decide when they saw each other and got to be with her with a small ass apology. (the pov episode does so much for us as an audience but my girl was #robbed of many explanations)

they look great together!!! like even when she heard his outburst from the door and thought that he married her and is miserable. you could see both of them really liked each other which is why you keep waiting for an explanation, although i was wondering since they dropped each other's hands QUICKLY post coronation did the king not find it weird that she suddenly is angry ??? maybe i'll catch things on a rewatch. like he's ready and has moved in with her !!! but is not curious that she's visibly angry ???

i also will use this post to say everytime someone is not there in the morning after scenes with their partner, a part of me dies !!! unless they have gone to bring you food, you better be cuddling mate !

i for some reason called Brimsley and Renoylds little romance, i just felt vibes and yet I yelped happily when they started making out while wondering what is wrong with the king lmaooo. #real and also the actual power couple of the show! their interactions made the show worthwhile and i love how both of them were ready to risk all sorts of conduct because of how much they cared for these bozos. trust me their hands slowly touching each other had me waiting breathless because for a second i thought they were about to break up 😭 i wanted to see them grow old together

back to the king and queen shenanigans, honestly i thought that the king had just grown forgetful or just had old people problems in the og show so i was actually surprised when he ran out of the house looking for Venus.

episode 4 is we get George's pov and honestly for a bit my stubborn ass was still not ready to hear explanations till I saw him crumble into his mom's arms and it broke my heart. :( (i do not know what the illness is so i am not going to assume or probably read other posts and learn but it feels like anxiety is always a trigger for it and i felt like leaping in like a protective mother everytime someone put him in that situation)

the actor is so good with tender eyes, like the way he looked at her made me wipe out all of the memories of the earlier 3 episodes and go awwww you love her. that doctor was shady from the jump and just kept on getting worse, like the way i wanted to actually k!ll him. like he actually seemed to be enjoying the torture he was doling out on this poor man... with the obsessive need to tame him like WHEN I CATCH YOU ! (nasty ass loser, like when he spoke about taming the wolf i just knew he was not okay...) practically used the shaving routine as a way to threaten the king! loserrrr

i love that her calling that small dog a deformed bunny is what makes the king laugh (which is a relief to see post doc torture) and is what brings him out of this, and he's like fuck this shit! i'm seeing my wife. both the actors are so gorgeous...

also i am a sucker !!! for POVS and this one came with explanations so i was even a bigger sucker

Renoylds just placing a hand on the king's shoulder did more than what the dumbass doc's aggressive slaps or methods could do...

one night with the queen, one dance with the queen and the king was like i'm all healed up he's just like me !!! he was so in love lmao

then he has the episode and the queen handles it well, but he wakes up alone

the queen was fully right for asking questions but once again like the first heard the conversation through the doors, instead of even slight miscommunication, we get no communication. btw, she's pregnant too (which starts the venus panic in the first place) , blessings ! she actually begins to show a full bump and btw this is where i think the timeline fully goes helter skelter for me because did he just leave her for months and worse did he get TORTURED FOR MONTHS???

my girl is about to leave and a lot happens and i'm running out of word limit so i'll save that for another post but a chat with lady danbury #mygirl pushes the queen into the king's place and she rescues him. I NEEDED THAT BAD like you do not understand for a second i was convinced that the doctor would break him and the queen and the king would never even be able to say i love you, like i thought he'd somehow freeze in that moment right there (it is stupid but like i was actually afraid)

she saves him, they tell each other they love her and like i'm ready to go to war for them atp, they are so tender in the way they hug and you can see relief in his eyes, in her eyes and you let go of a breath you didn't know you were holding.

i love how she lets him heal but more in how she takes care of him when she can feel panic rise and his hands shake and how he calms listening to his voice ( take that nasty violent ass doctor)

the way they lied under the bed and he was afraid he would never be fully there for her and understood if she wanted to leave and she said fuch that! i love you and you're just george, just george to me <3

anyway, i feel a wave of sleep coming because i intelligently watched this at 2 am and it is 6 now but the last two episodes were me just awwing at the screen watching him trust her and himself and be happy with her. i'm so happy he got to share that with her

the children, lady danbury and violet thing I'll get onto later

the scene where the king's mom tells the queen that he's happy because of her is so sweet because it is reminiscent of the dance scene where she also realised he was happy happy.

i love how he swoops his arms around her !!! he's happy and safe <333

also this is where the timeline shakes me up because my girl is already pregnant??? AGAIN??? i feel like he helped her deliver their first baby in the same episode LMAOOOO

anyway text limit warning but yeah i liked it

#queen charlotte #queen charlotte: a bridgerton story #bridgerton #i wanted to say stick it out for the couple and brimsley and renoylds #cuties #the chemistry is insane like it will keep you sitting till the first 3 episodes #bridgerton won #just george #they are so tender #lady danbury deserves the world kinda #i do think the writing except for the king and queen was very helter skelter #my eyes are so heavy i'll get back to this later #sorry if this is all over the place lmao i don't know how i even managed to hit the text limit

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thephantomcasebook · 2 years ago

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do you think it would had been really out of character in any circumstances for heleana to be more active in dance of dragon with her dreamfyre

i just feel dreamfyre is literally old as vermithor and yes vermithor went to battles and dreamfyre’s past rider rhaena was not involved in any fighting as well

but i wished of the alternate reality where heleana in her own way with dreamfyre survives and wins the dance, not acting like rhaenyra or heleana but acting like herself in an authentic way but still involved in it because yes she lost her baby jaehaerys incredibly traumatic way but she had two other kids , what about them!??? They were still right there heleana why why why would u give up

and when i heard that george martin had changed that heleana and aemond had died different days instead of same day like how george wrote at first. My heart broke and i felt really upset at that. As i feel that was the evidence of heleamond to me

I just don't see Helaena in either the books or the show having the heart or the nature for war.

I get the strong sense from her character that Helaena doesn't like killing any living beings, animal, bug, or human. Though, I do wish the show would do something with her character.

It seems that when she was a tweeny in the show that she was lucid, intelligent, and kind of a prissy princess. She just had weird hobbies and flashes of foresight. But it seems that Phia plays adult Helaena like she's on the spectrum and has decided to go full weird, most likely not reading the book and realizing that Helaena is supposed to be one of the most popular and beloved queens in the history of the Seven Kingdoms. Her death started a revolution that drove Rhaenyra to her death.

I hope in Season 2 we see a bit of Queen Helaena "The Beloved" out amongst the people. It is really important for the plot to show that both Helaena and Daeron are extremely popular figures among the smallfolk and commons.

I do offer a bit of comfort in that "Rise of the Dragon" - the book that changed several things recently - is not actually written by George RR Martin, but by his friends and editors Ellio and Linda, who run "A Wiki of Ice and Fire".

Also, having my contentious run-ins with one of them over the past 13 years, They both have a history of ... "Fudging" continuity that they don't like and styling themselves the arbiters of what is real and fiction in continuity ... most of the time without GRRM's opinion on the matter. They have, on occasion, tried to squash popular fan theories and canon that they don't like or agree with.

So, the new "continuity" that mixes up the dates of Helaena and Aemond's death and the reason that Criston dies, is not exactly law, because "Rise of the Dragon" was not written by GRRM himself. It is a compilation and cliff notes version of "Fire & Blood" written by his friends.

So, in the official GRRM written canon of "Fire & Blood" Aemond and Helaena still die on the same day.

If that helps.

#House of the Dragon #Helaena Targaryen #Aemond Targaryen #Helaemond #Aemond X Helaena

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mybloodyfamousprophets · 1 year ago

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walking up the stairs into the city lights, warm in the tube but it’s cold out tonight, the red leaves are falling and the blue ones are skating, into the city the trolley is racing,

past that old park where we all got drunk, pass by the shop where i buy that skunk, riding the train just never gets old, just a silly little wonder i hold,

signs flashing by as the sun gets higher, i’m out feeling streetcar desire,

love in the 6ix, do you think it exists? do you believe in something, could you tell me a myth?

give me a story for the morning glory, there's nothing you’ll say that'll ever bore me, late night chats on the 506, me and my bestie just talking the shit,

answer the universe 'fore our stop, feeling it now that i sent her off, downtown lights and city life, flected all in starstruck eyes, the photos on billboards are fake, a lie like the cake, a lure, if you sent me one i'd fall for, i'm sure, get a robot to sell me coffee, caffeine fuels the dead man walking, looks like the cafe door is closed, you're not open, nowhere to go

i stood in that spot like my 12 year old self, childhood wonder flown off the shelf, everything changes, broke my glasses, stop and smell the flowers while life passes, hit the cartridge won't quit but you say it, phone's distorted i cant hear what you're saying, rogers 5G subway quit complaining, st george to kipling station i'm changing, new train just one destination, go the place that stops my mind racing, sit on the hill feel the trains pass by, high school down the street no school now just high, find the spot i became myself, eggs cracked, come out the shell, quiet kid got a little loud, city changes everything around, new faces and places, trying to find my spaces, strange city no lights like las vegas, wall street on bay spot exchanges, queen west hipsters, gentrification, head east to the beaches, day in the city see the stars must be dreaming, no ID card robarts I can't sneak in, annex photo negative stayed peaking, the photos from last night i am seeing, but your face is nowhere to be seen in the crowd

towards your home i’m racing, flowers in hand heart’s pacing, no flower on hand im not faded, cedarvale line 1 delayed it, your favourite perfume i sprayed it, no smelling like smoke, not like lost hopes, and dreams and memories, more like cherry blossom breeze, galão by the ocean sun is on me, you’re someone’s son and you’re on me, and my mind, think about you all the time, why else do i write these line by line, every song ends up about you, talk about nostalgia there’s that word “you”, i just end up thinking about things i dont think i can have

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torchlitinthedesert · 2 months ago

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I hadn't heard of Lou Sullivan, trans gay author and activist. So I looked up his diaries, and op's tags are 100% accurate. You can see his whole progress as a fan, how much it meant to him - both at the time, and later with adult hindsight. Fandom as something we pour ourselves into, and use to work out/shape how we see ourselves. Plus all the idealism and obsessiveness - I love him buying Beatle-relevant clothes, and reading terrible books about the beloveds.

Diary excerpts, starting in 1964, when Sullivan was 13 (the entries aren't dated).

Didn't do anything great except saw "The Beatles" on The Ed Sullivan Show and Kathy practically had a bird. They are sorta cute but I think Ringo is swingin, George is cute, Paul is a good singer and John is icky. Too!

Did my homework and could not wait for The Beatles at 7-8 on Ed Sullivan. Went home to see them. Kathy & I & John went in the den and screamed! After their last song I started to cry, I guess because they wouldn’t be on any more. Mom got mad but Kathy joined me. I guess we feel the same about them.

Paul-Ringo-Paul-Ringo they keep bouncing around my head. They're so perfect. Model yourself on them & you'll have no worries. Paul! I love the name. Such a beautiful sound to the ear. Ringo! Such an adorable boy. So sweet and modest. So bouncy. Know that I love you and I'm not crazy. This is a love so strong and real. Oh, love me, too, anyone.

I’m reading “The True Story of The Beatles.” So sad—I even cried I felt so sorry for those poor boys. They hardly could get anything to eat. They went without food for 36 hours once. Poor darlings. Today is Sunday. The Beatles mean so much to me. I could never say I didn’t like (or even love) The Beatles. I hope God is good to them when they die. I pray for them every day. Ringo, John, George, Paul. These names do something to me. Put me in a trance.

I'm going to start saying "y'know" for a while. It's fun.

I think I’d like a husband under the zodiac sign Libra. John Lennon’s from that sign and he seems to be a very wonderful husband. I’d like to be a famous writer of romance and love. I bet I could do it! All I need is the atmosphere and mood and I could write a heart-touching story. I love to think at night, with beautiful music playing, of young lovers and love. Of how they feel, cuz I know, I felt that way about Paul and still do, a little I guess.

I'll probably never forget this day. My babies on the stage, alive, in front of me. Pauly! Pauly! Oh, I love you with all my heart, so much. At the end, when outside, kids screamed and ran. I followed, losing the others. I touched it with my hands—their car to take them to the hotel. I cried, lovingly, as I walked to our meeting place, people looked at me, but I didn’t care. My darlings were there and I had to leave them. I saw my Pauly! And George, John, Ringo.

I got a black leather “John Hat.” It’s called that cuz John Lennon wears one like it. [Here's a photo of Sullivan wearing it]

I’m not shy anymore! I don’t care if people think I’m crazy, I’m gonna be myself. And guess who helped me to this. The Beatles. The Beatles.

Grandmother bought me a $20 pair of boots. I donated $7. They’re genuine black leather and go up to my knees. They have a 1” stacked heel. A zipper down the side. A dream come true! Jane Asher has a pair. Excellent. Now I'm broke. Ha-ha!

I really don’t know what I’d have done without Paul, George, John, Ringo. I’d probably be real queer. You know, when I was around 7-11 years old, my favorite play would be “boys.” One of us, Bridget, Maryellen, or I, would say “Let’s play boys.”...

And in adulthood:

And it came to me how I’ve always had a male idol. Since I was 6 yrs old & thought I was Davy Crockett. Memories of others are gone but Cheyenne, another cowboy star I fantasized I was; David Janssen on TV as “The Fugitive;” Paul McCartney (my original boy-queen); Bob Dylan; now Lou [Reed].

Maryellen and I went to see Paul McCartney (yes! my Paulie) in concert in Berkeley. I felt very emotional during the concert—just remembering back to seeing him with the Beatles in 1964, and now again, here, 26 years later—and all that’s happened in my life in the interim. Although I haven’t followed his career in the interim, somehow I see him as the beginning, the awakening of my sexual maturity. I remember so clearly sitting at Bluemound Rd. with Paul’s picture in hand, staring and dreaming of him and thinking, “I wish I were you! I wish I was a boy like you!” I also kept thinking of Kathleen and how she would have LOVED to have been at this concert and I kind of dedicated my presence there to her. And like that first concert in 1964, I did quite a bit of crying during this show: “The Long and Winding Road,” “Let It Be”…all bring my life full-circle.

in happier book news i just started lou sullivan's diaries and idk what i was expecting but i can tell you i DIDN'T expect to be dropped straight into the deep end of the diary of, essentially, a 12 year old diehard one direction girlie (gender neutral)

#lou sullivan #thank you op!#beatlemania #john paul george ringo #trans history #he would have loved tumblr #i feel sure he'd have views on which beatle would die in childbirth #and 'paul mccartney (my original boy-queen)' belongs in tumblr tags #that final reflection is so lovely: fandom and memory and shared experience #also i lost it when he decides to start saying y'know #if y'know y'know #long post #mine and my additions

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elegantwoes · 2 years ago

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I remember the smells of those nights, my lord—perfume and sweat, melons ripe to bursting, peaches and pomegranates, nightshade and moonbloom. I was a young man then, still forging my chain. The heat did not exhaust me as it does now.” Pycelle’s eyes were so heavily lidded he looked half-asleep.

I am only at page two but Maester Pycelle is already pissing me off with his feigned frail old man act. I have half the urge to pull at his long white beard.

“I have heard that you sent Maester Colemon away.” The Grand Maester’s nod was as slow and deliberate as a glacier. “I did, and I fear the Lady Lysa will never forgive me that. Maybe I was wrong, but at the time I thought it best. Maester Colemon is like a son to me, and I yield to none in my esteem for his abilities, but he is young, and the young ofttimes do not comprehend the frailty of an older body. He was purging Lord Arryn with wasting potions and pepper juice, and I feared he might kill him.”

Last time I checked purging is the first step in curing someone who is poisoned. By sending Maester Colemon away Pycelle has basically murdered Jon Arryn. Yet here he is, trying to act like he was saving Jon when he did the opposite. He is such a slimy piece of shit.

(╬▔皿▔)╯

“You have been most courteous,” Ned told him. Then, almost as an afterthought, he said, “One last question, if you would be so kind. You mentioned that the king was at Lord Arryn’s bedside when he died. I wonder, was the queen with him?” “Why, no,” Pycelle said. “She and the children were making the journey to Casterly Rock, in company with her father. Lord Tywin had brought a retinue to the city for the tourney on Prince Joffrey’s name day, no doubt hoping to see his son Jaime win the champion’s crown. In that he was sadly disappointed. It fell to me to send the queen word of Lord Arryn’s sudden death. Never have I sent off a bird with a heavier heart.”

Dear Ned, surely you can see to what conlcuson you should come to, right? Cersei. is. not. responsible. for. Lord. Arryn's. death. I beg of you please.

The night the bird had come from Winterfell, Eddard Stark had taken the girls to the castle godswood, an acre of elm and alder and black cottonwood overlooking the river. The heart tree there was a great oak, its ancient limbs overgrown with smokeberry vines; they knelt before it to offer their thanksgiving, as if it had been a weirwood. Sansa drifted to sleep as the moon rose, Arya several hours later, curling up in the grass under Ned’s cloak. All through the dark hours he kept his vigil alone. When dawn broke over the city, the dark red blooms of dragon’s breath surrounded the girls where they lay. “I dreamed of Bran,” Sansa had whispered to him. “I saw him smiling."

Such a beautiful passage, especially the bolded part. It obviously means the Starklings (Jon, Sansa, and Bran) will survive the Long Night. Though, I worry about Rickon. George RR Martin I beg of you. Spare the innocent child.

Yet someday he may be the lord of a great holdfast and sit on the king’s council. He might raise castles like Brandon the Builder, or sail a ship across the Sunset Sea, or enter your mother’s Faith and become the High Septon.” ... “You,” Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, “will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon.”

To use @istumpysk own words here. The fate of the remaining Starks is in this passage

Lord of a great holdfast and sit on the king’s council. Bran Stark

He might raise castles like Brandon the Builder. Jon Snow

Sail a ship across the Sunset Sea. Arya Stark

Marry a king and rule his castle. Sansa Stark

Become a High Septon. Rickon maybe?

Let the last one be about Rickon. Please let it be so.

Inside his chambers, he stripped off his sweat-stained silks and sluiced cold water over his head from the basin beside the bed. Alyn entered as he was drying his face. “My lord,” he said, “Lord Baelish is without and begs audience.”

Ugh. What in the fuck does he want?

“And as tiresome,” Littlefinger added, “though I daresay he should do well in the tourney. Last year he unhorsed the Hound, and it was only four years ago that he was champion.”

HA. In this small nstance I like Barristan Selmy. Anyone who humiliates Cujo come again is good. (ﾉ��ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

“Lord Petyr,” Ned called after him. “I … am grateful for your help. Perhaps I was wrong to distrust you.” Littlefinger fingered his small pointed beard. “You are slow to learn, Lord Eddard. Distrusting me was the wisest thing you’ve done since you climbed down off your horse.”

When someone shows you who they are always believe them, Ned. You will spare yourself a great deal of pain.

Next chapter our sour patch kid Jon Snow.

#asoiaf reread project #rereading agot #Ned Stark

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nobutfredweasleytho · 3 years ago

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YOU JUST DON’T LISTEN(F.W)

Summary: Fred’s ex girlfriend writes him a letter to explain the how him using her wrecked her emotionally.

Warnings: angst, like a lot of angst, depressed Y/N, mentions of self doubt, a little swearing, mentions of parents not loving correctly, used reader. Let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Major thank you to Gabriella @onlyfreds for being an amazing person and encouraging me to write whatever this mess is. I am forever grateful to you

(The font is terrible Im sorry im just getting used to working on tumblr)

Fred Weasley checked the muggle clock on his nightstand. 10:30 AM. His mom will call him for breakfast anytime now. He has been awake for quite some time if he can even count the 30 minutes he tried to sleep but couldn’t, not when every time he tries to close his eyes his mind and eventually dreams are clouded by her. By the last time he looked at her, how devastated she looked, How her face was wet from her tears and her eyes bloodshot red, but the thing Fred will never be able to forget is her voice. How raw and vulnerable she sounded while saying the most horrible thing’s anyone has ever said to him, but he can’t blame her, he has no one to blame but himself because in the end it was he who caused all of this and now its come to bite him in the ass. He hears the door open and his twin brother George enters.

“Mom says breakfast is ready and she wants you downstairs. She says she’ll drag you herself if you don’t show up again today.”

“Tell her I’m not hungry and I’ll come grab a bite later.” I really don’t feel like being surrounded by other people right now. Not in this pathetic state I’m in. Besides it will take me willpower I don’t have to not hex Ron into oblivion.

“Well she will not take no for an answer and I wont either. What’s done is done now and you’ll have to face the world someday so start with your own family because everyone down there is worried sick about you and the least you can do is show your face once in a while so they know you haven’t died of starvation or sleep deprivation.” George has worry written all over him and I’m sure the rest of the family has it too. I feel even more like shit for worrying them.

“Fine. But I come back here if she is mentioned are we clear?”

“We weren’t gonna mention Y/N anyway now lets go moms worried sick for your dumbass.”

Breakfast was going smoothly with Ginny and Ron being exited for Quidditch season, Harry and Bill discussing the unfortunate events of the Triwizard tournament last year, dad asking Hermione about a rubber duck whatever that is, but the most shocking thing is mom asking me and George about the joke shop products. George is doing most of the talking but still the fact that shes even asking is awesome. I was finally feeling peaceful this whole winter break until I heard a hoot outside the window.

“I thought it was Tuesday but since mail is here does it mean its Friday already? Oh how fast time is going.

“No Arthur honey you are right it is Tuesday, Bill or George can one of you see if that owl has the owners name attached to it and bring whatever letter he has here to see who is it for.”

Bill got up from his seat and went to the window next to the countertop to look at the mystery owl. “Do we even know a Y/N Y/L/N?”

The room went quiet. The only thing that could be heard was the owls hoot asking for its treat. Bill seemed not to realise this as he took the letter from the owl, gave him a treat and sent it on its way.

“To Fred Weasley from Y/N Y/L/N… Who’s Y/N is she the girl you’ve been crying over this whole time huh Freddie?” Bill chuckled but I just grabbed the letter. I had no time to even be mad at him because once again my mind fogs up with only her. I couldn’t help but feel relieved and the happiest I felt in a long time. She has forgiven me. Y/N forgave me. That has to be it. Why else would she send me a letter?

“I had a great time with you guys but there’s important matters for me to attend so I have to go to now. Thanks mom the breakfast was amazing as always.” And with that I sprinted towards my room, locked the door and examined the letter in my hands. It was a bunch of them in here. I went to mine and George’s worktable threw some papers that were on top of it to make room for these letters and carefully opened the envelope.

The first thing that I grabbed was a photo. It was a polaroid of me and Y/N on the Gryffindor common room. Happiness filled my heart when I started remembering this night. I looked at the back of the polaroid and surely enough there was a writing on it.

Fred and Yn on the Gryffindor common room at 1 AM the night she turned 17. Listening to ABBA’s “Dancing Queen”. Picture taken by major 3rd wheel George Weasley.

Tears filled my eyes when I remember this night. It was the night I looked at her the way I always should have. Not as a replacement of someone who didn’t care about me.

The next one was also a polaroid photograph but this one I don’t remember being taken. It’s a picture of Y/N teaching me how to play the guitar. I can make up that we are in her dorm but not more as the picture is taken in black and white. I look at the back and surely this one also has a writing on it but the handwriting doesn’t look familiar at all.

A drunken Y/N accompanied by a even drunker Fred trying to play the guitar in the middle of the night. If I fail my charms exam tomorrow I’m killing you both but right now you two look adorable. Picture taken by Cho Chang.

The third one is an actual letter. I chuckle looking at the handwriting. Always so precise and not even one line out of place. I always thought Y/Ns handwriting always contradicts her hot headed persona but it’s actually really cute. I start reading the letter and my heart stops.

Dear Freddie,

I can only imagine the shock that receiving a letter from me would cause you right now especially after our last conversation.

But I have a lot to get off of my chest and I wont be able to move on if I haven’t said it all. Call me a coward but I was really scared to ask you to meet me so I can say it in person, but maybe that’s what I have always been. A coward. A coward because I get scared when someone wants to enter my life, a coward because I hate trying new things at the expense of failing, a coward because I should be able to confront people who brought darkness and sadness to my life.

But one thing I will admit Fred Weasley is that I wasn’t a coward when It came to loving you. It was the first time that I let someone come into my life and heart the way you did, and it will probably be the last. Throughout our “relationship” if you can even call it that as it was more of you customizing me to be her, to be someone I’m not. But that’s why you even talked to me is it, because I reminded you of her.

The signs were right in front of me and I feel stupid enough not to have seen them. But I guess people are right when they say love is blind. Love is such a funny thing to me as the first time I experienced the right kind of love was through you. But that was me creating stuff in my head. You didn’t love me no, you loved the idea of me. But I loved you. I loved you more than anything or anyone I have ever loved, I loved everything about you. But you just don’t listen. You don’t listen to anyone around you. Not George, not your other siblings, not Lee or any of your other friends for that matter, not your professors, but most importantly you don’t listen to me.

You didn’t listen when I told you that the love my parents gave me was only because I reminded them of my brother, the love my old friends back home gave me was one of interest. Everywhere I go no matter who I talk to no one will love me for me. I came to accept that until I met you.

You were funny and crazy and brave and oh so gorgeous. You were basically everything I looked for in… well everything. In a friend or in a partner it doesn’t matter. I thought you saw me for who I am. A broken teenager with issues but that at the end of the day was deserving of love. Oh how wrong I have been but no more wrong than you. You knew this but you just didn’t listen.

That makes us both horrible people now does it. Me who thought you were some kind of savior or some kind of saint and selfishly wrapped myself around your love and you who used me because I remind you of your ex girlfriend who broke your heart. But mine is excused I feel like and yours isn’t.

You would have kept me going for who knows how long just so you can live your imaginations you had for someone else.

Did you think about her the first time we slept together?

Was I not enough for you Freddie?

Was I too clingy too soon?

Is it my hot temper that gets the best of me?

So many questions will be left unanswered on my end because frankly, I never want to speak of you again. Sure I am deprived of love but I will not take it if its not directed directly at me.

I still care about you and will continue to support you and George on whatever you set your mind into. I was waking through Diagon Alley last week and saw this little store with a “for sale” sign. It’s right in the middle of Diagon Alley. I hate how my first thought went that you would have loved it but I seem to do that a lot recently.

I’ll get dressed and think would Fred love this skirt or this shirt.

I start applying lipstick and I’ll think will Fred love this color.

I start eating and I’ll think does this look good enough that Fred would’ve stolen a piece of it when I’m talking to Ginny.

I don’t even know why I am telling you this. How pathetic I’ve become clinging into someone that doesn’t want me.

Anyway I’ve probably bored you enough with my ranting but I wouldn’t have been able to move on unless I said everything that felt heavy on my heart. I also attached some photos I thought you’d like to keep seeing as now you can see yourself with Kayla without having the burden to be near me.

Say hi to your siblings and Harry for me.

Have a nice life,

Y/N

#harry potter #fred x y/n #fred weasley series #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #fred weasley angst #george weasley #hogwarts #fred and goerge weasley #weasley family #sadnees #i hate this

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years ago

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Heart-Shaped Wreckage

Day 16, Story #2 is by @adenei

Title: Heart-Shaped Wreckage

Author: adenei

Pairing: Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger

Prompt: Songfic

Rating: T

TW: implied violence and near-death experience (but nothing explicit)

A/N: This is the part two follow-up to Rewrite the Stars.

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

Hermione’s hand trembles as she reaches over to her nightstand and turns on the light. She can’t sleep, which is a common occurrence as of late. Where she once relished in the quiet of her flat, now the serenity is too much to bear. She is running out of changes to make that will erase the worst, most painful decision of her life. The ultra-soft linens she purchased for her bed are anything but comforting and luxurious. They feel scratchy and cold, and the fresh and clean look of the white comforter with its floral patterns gives off more of a sterile vibe than the new slate she’d been hoping for. Instead, it serves as another stark reminder that all the vibrancy and color had evaporated from her life when she pushed Ron away.

It’s been 62 days since the disaster of the Auror gala, and 50 since Hermione’s received any form of contact from him. Ron has honored her wishes to break things off no matter how much it pained them both to do so. Part of her still wishes he’d floo into her fireplace or knock on her door, begging her to give them another chance. But she knows deep down none of that will ever happen. He is a man of respect, and he will always abide by her requests, even if she no longer wants to keep them herself.

It’s better this way. She reminds herself of the constant scrutiny they’d face if they stayed together, and the hurt and discomfort even at the mere thought indicate that her feelings haven’t changed. There is no way she could put him through that sort of subjection just so she can be selfish and happy. Their lives are too different, and they live in a world where the acceptance of all kinds of love doesn't exist.

So, in the grueling months since they ended things for a second time, Hermione has worked to make changes, some drastic, some minute, in an effort to force herself to move on. She is too proud to let anyone in her life know the pain that she feels with every conscious breath that she takes. Hermione has thrown herself into her work, staying at school late to mark papers, redecorate the classroom, or develop new lesson plans to benefit the students and create more hands-on experiences.

And once she realized that her preparation was complete through the end of next term, Hermione turned to her flat. Weekends have been spent on home projects. Painting the walls, updating the decor, and cleaning every square inch of her flat, all to help her forget.

But the problem is, her heart doesn’t want to forget. Every book she sits down to read reminds her of time spent with Ron. Her renewed efforts in the kitchen never fail to bring a smile or a chuckle to her lips as her mind traitorously wonders what Ron would think if he were here to observe the barely edible mess she’s created. Yet, Hermione is not naive enough to believe that it will change anything. She knows it won’t.

As she sits up in the enormous queen-sized bed, she reaches for the parchment that lays in tri-folds on the nightstand. The paper is worn, with visible wrinkles preventing it from lying flat and tear stains causing the corners to curl as she unfolds the delicate sheet. Hermione’s not sure why she’s opening the letter to read. She knows it won’t bring her the comfort she craves or the answers she desires.

The messy scrawl gives way to Ron’s only correspondence with her since the last time they spoke, and she latches onto it as if it’s the only life preserver on a capsizing vessel. It’s the only thing she has left. The only reminder of the life she could have had.

I’m not scared to tell the truth.

I went to hell and back and I went with you

Remind me what we were before,

When you said you are mine, and I am yours

Hermione,

There’s a lot I want to say and I’m not sure if I can fit it all in this letter, but I’m going to try. I never meant for any of this to happen, but I did mean everything I said that night. I’m not afraid to tell you how I feel. What we have, er, had, I guess, is special. I’ve never felt this way about anyone in my life, and I don’t think I ever will. And it’s not just about the case and finding comfort in each other.

When we broke things off after graduation, I felt like a part of me was missing. The Auror academy kept me busy, and sure, my life moved on, but I wasn’t really happy. Not as happy as I was when we were together. And then fate brought us back together and we decided to make another go of it, that’s when I realized that you were what was missing. You make my life so much brighter, so meaningful, and I’m sorry if I sound like a sap, but I need you to know how I feel.

I would give up everything for you. Social status means nothing to me. If the Aurors sack me because of my personal relations, then so be it. I’ll work with George, or find something else. If my family can’t be supportive, then it will be their loss. I’m not willing to live in a world that doesn’t have you in it, and I refuse to give in to the Ministry’s stance on bloody purity.

I know this is all probably ‘too little, too late’ or whatever that Muggle saying is that you like to use, and I promise you I’m going to respect your wishes. But I had to tell you. I had to let you know because...well...there’s this mission that’s come up. It’s going to be bloody dangerous and Robards asked for volunteers because he knows how risky it’s going to be. Anyone who goes isn’t guaranteed to come back and, well, I won’t go into the details, but I volunteered to go.

I know, I know, I can hear you in the back of my head telling me that it’s probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done and not to throw my life away because we’re not together, but Hermione, it’s been twelve days and I can’t go on day to day like this. I can’t. Working is the only thing that eases the pain and gets my mind off of everything. I’ll be as safe as I can be, I promise.

I hope you find the happiness you deserve. You’re brilliant, always remember that. Just know that I love you, and it’s because I love you that I’m going to try to let go.

Ron

Tears threaten in Hermione’s eyes once again. It’s no different than every other time she reads the letter. Nothing has changed; Ron’s gone, still on his mission six weeks later and no end in sight. Hermione is sure this is the reason she’s not sleeping. With every passing day and no news of Ron’s whereabouts, she turns to the only object that can provide her with any source of comfort: the letter.

After three weeks of constant worrying and bags under her eyes so prevalent that even her eight-year-old students noticed, Hermione caved and wrote to Harry. Even though they can’t be together, she knows deep down that she can still care about his well-being.

Harry’s response had been timely and brief. He didn’t have details of the mission but reassured Hermione that no news is good news. Hermione thanked him and asked for updates if it wasn’t too much trouble. The two had been friendly in school, growing closer as her relationship with Ron blossomed as well. She didn’t expect his alliance to stray from his best friend but still appreciated his willingness to be cordial with her after everything she’d put Ron through.

“Please come home to me,” she whispers into the darkness.

Her heart aches more as her eyes hover over the parchment once more, searching for the three words that she knows she’ll never read too many times: I love you.

For some reason, this three a.m. readthrough hits differently. She carefully folds the parchment, places it back on the nightstand and turns off the light. There are still a few more hours left to find sleep.

Hermione tosses and turns as she attempts to focus on sleep and quieting her thoughts. At some point, a flash illuminates the night sky, and that’s when the pieces begin forming more vividly in her mind. The clap of thunder follows seconds later, and with it, a realization is born. As the rain begins its slow cadence of pitter-patters on the window, the brevity of Hermione’s decision hits her with the force of the storm strengthening outside.

I don’t know much, but I know myself

And I don’t want to love anybody else

So let’s break the spell and lift the curse

Remember when we fell for each other head first

There is only one question that forms in her mind. One question that surpasses any of the other thoughts she’s managed to cope with over the last two months.

What have I done?

None of her previous attempts to move past this matter anymore, even though it’s too late, and there’s nothing she can do.

Three days later, Hermione is finishing up her night-time routine when there’s a knock on her door. She looks at the antique clock on the wall that reads 10:45. Her heart plummets to her stomach. No one calls this late at night with good news. She stands frozen in place, amazed that the glass of water in her hand hasn’t spilled to the floor as a result of her shock.

Another knock, and Hermione manages to lift her feet from the floor. She reaches over and sets the glass on the counter before pulling her dressing gown tight around her waist. The carpet feels thick and heavy, as if her feet are wading through mud and sludge as she makes the torturous trek to the door. Five steps feel like five thousand. She’s sure all of this has happened in a matter of seconds, but it feels like minutes. Maybe the caller will be gone by the time her eye reaches the peephole.

Her hope is instantly quashed when she peers through the tiny circle to see an older gentleman that she doesn’t quite recognize at first. He’s wearing an overcoat and tan bowler hat, and is looking down at a torn piece of parchment. A pair of cerulean blue eyes drift back up to the number on her flat’s door, and that’s when the familiarity hits Hermione like a muggle slamming into the brick wall that separates platforms nine and ten at King’s Cross Station.

She can feel the blood drain from her face as dizziness overcomes her. Falling forward, she clasps onto the doorknob to steady herself. The noise catches the gentleman’s attention.

“Er, Ms. Granger. Are you home? It’s very important that I speak to you. Please, I mean no harm if you’ll open up.”

Hermione struggles to find her voice to respond. Her hands are shaking so violently that she can barely latch on to the deadbolt that has been fastened for the evening.

“Oh, er, please forgive me. We haven’t formally met, but it’s Mr. Weasley out here. Ron’s father.”

Hearing Ron’s name gives Hermione the strength that she needs to click the deadbolt to the left as she manages to turn the door handle with her other hand. Pulling the door open, she slowly looks up at the elder Weasley.

“Is—is everything okay?” Her voice is raw and weak, and she’s sure the shock is the only thing preventing the tears from pooling in her eyes.

“Er, no, it’s not. May I come in?” His eyes dart around, as if he doesn’t want to discuss the matter out in the open.

Hermione opens the door wider to let him in and manages to shut it when he’s through the entryway. Her free hand fiddles with her wand that’s still inside her pocket—just in case—though she fears no imminent threat from Ron’s father.

"Ms. Granger, I’m sorry for calling so late. I wouldn’t be here at all, actually, if it wasn’t for Harry mentioning—ah, well, that’s no matter...”

Mr. Weasley is rambling, and Hermione has trouble processing his words. Her breath catches at the mention of Harry’s name, which draws Mr. Weasley’s attention to her, helping him get to the point of his late-night visit.

“Ron’s been gravely injured. He’s at St. Mungo’s now. They brought him in an hour or so ago. Molly and I met Harry and Ginny there as soon as we heard. He’s stable for now, but the Healers are unsure if it will hold.”

Hermione grasps the back of the couch to keep from collapsing to the ground. A sob bursts from her throat as the tears that threatened moments ago now spill freely down her cheeks.

“Wh-what happened?”

The words are spoken with great effort.

“We don’t have many details. The Aurors are still trying to clean up loose ends on the mission, but it sounds like the operation was successful thanks to Ron’s efforts. One of the target’s accomplices hit Ron with an unknown spell before he was caught.”

Even through Hermione’s own devastation, she can hear the tremor in Ron’s father’s voice. He’s scared, though he’s hiding it well as he continues to explain what he knows. There’s a sheen in his eyes as the moisture appears, emotions raw as he finishes bringing Hermione up to speed.

“Everyone was apprehended, and Ron appears to be the only one who got hurt. We should know more in the coming hours.”

Hermione can only offer a blank stare as she processes the information. His letter said it would be a dangerous mission. He didn’t sound as if he was hopeful that he’d come back alive. Or maybe he was hoping—no, don’t think like that. It was her fault that he’d gone in the first place. By some miracle, he was still hanging on, and the haziness of Hermione’s previous decisions about their relationship begins to give way. The fact that his father is there in her flat informing her has to mean something.

“Why are you here?”

It comes out harsher than Hermione intends, but after their less than amicable meeting at the gala, Hermione can’t be bothered with pleasantries. Even if his wife’s behavior was ruder than his own.

The older man pulls out a handkerchief and wipes beads of sweat off his brow as he sighs deeply.

“Ms. Granger—”

“Hermione.”

“Right, yes, Hermione. I am aware that we did not get off on the right foot. I’m sorry I never introduced myself on the night of the gala. We weren’t expecting Ron to have a date. I’ll admit that Molly and I were ignorant in the way we treated you that night, and for that, I am sorry. Nothing can take back our words, nor can it change the way others view you based on your blood status, but please know how wrong we were.

“Ron was devastated after you broke things off after the gala, and I suppose that was largely due to our behavior. It’s clear to us how much he loves you, and we don’t want to stand in the way of that. So, when Harry mentioned you had asked for news and wanted to come tell you, I insisted that I should be the one to see you. Please don’t let our ignorance stand in the way of your happiness.”

Hermione stands there, listening to Arthur’s apology. While she appreciates the olive branch, part of her can’t help but feel that it’s too little, too late, and a new wave of tears flood her eyes as she sees those exact words in Ron’s letter. She offers a curt nod to let him know she appreciates the gesture, even as her voice can’t find the words.

“I won’t keep you. I should be getting back, but Ron is in room 408. You are on the approved list as a family member if you decide you want to see him, and Molly’s agreed to let you stay with him if you’d like.”

Arthur gives a weak nod as he dabs his forehead once more before making his way to the door. It takes Hermione a moment to realize what’s happening, and as soon as everything processes, she’s pushing herself off the back of the sofa and calling out to Arthur.

Look at this heart shaped wreckage

What have we done?

We’ve got scars from battles nobody won

We can start over, better

Both of us know if we just let the broken pieces

Let the broken pieces go

“I’m coming! Please, er, if you don’t mind waiting. I just need to get changed—”

“Of course.”

Arthur offers a paternal smile as Hermione rushes into her bedroom and throws on the first thing she can find. She almost forgets to grab her bag as she throws on her coat and locks the door behind her.

Moments later, they’re entering St. Mungo’s, and Mr. Weasley leads the way through the main hall to the lifts. It’s only as the gate shuts that nerves begin to bubble up in her stomach. She’s been running on the adrenaline of the news, and now she can’t help but wonder how the rest of Ron’s family will react when they see her. Or, what’s worse, how Ron will react if and when he wakes up.

When. It has to be when.

As if sensing her trepidation, Mr. Weasley places a reassuring hand on her shoulder. The lift opens, and the first person she sees is Harry in the waiting room. Her feet gravitate toward him of their own accord, and when Harry sees her, he meets her halfway and wraps her in a tight hug.

“He’s going to be okay. He has to,” Harry whispers in her ear.

Hermione nods, forcing her brain to believe his words. When they let go, Ginny hugs Hermione next, which helps her feel more relaxed.

Maybe this isn’t so bad after all.

After one final squeeze, Ginny lets go so Hermione can follow Arthur down the hall to Ron’s room. He opens the door, and Hermione enters the sterile, white room. The most color she sees is his shock of red hair against the fluffy white pillow that’s cradling his head. Her heart begins beating faster as she spots his mum sitting vigil at his side.

Mrs. Weasley looks up to see the two standing there. A hard, stony look immediately sets on her face in defense before it softens slightly. She stands and walks over to Hermione. She knows that she’ll have a harder time winning over the Weasley matriarch based on this interaction, but if Ron wakes up—and will take her back—she’s willing to do anything to make it work.

“Let’s give her some privacy, Molly. The healers will call us in if he wakes up,” Arthur coaxes his wife out of the room as he gives Hermione one last reassuring smile.

When the door closes behind them, Hermione walks up to the chair Molly was perched at and takes a seat. She moves the chair closer to the bed as she observes Ron in his sleeping state. A tear slips down her face as her hand reaches out to take his. It isn’t cold, but it’s also not as warm as she’s used to.

“Please wake up. You have to wake up,” she pleads, choking back a fresh wave of tears.

I can’t find you in the dark

Will we get back to who we are?

And I can’t fix this on my own

Our love is still the best thing I’ve ever known

She’s not sure how long she sits there, watching his chest slowly rise and fall as he breathes. No matter how hard she tries, Hermione can’t look away, for fear that his breathing might stop if she does. She’s so focused on his chest, that she doesn’t see his eyes flutter open.

“Er-my-nee.”

His voice is breathy, with more rasp than she’s used to, but she’d have given all the gold in her Gringotts vault to hear her name on his lips again if she had to. He lifts the hand that she’s holding, and Hermione leans in closer to press her face into it.

“You came,” he whispers.

Unable to contain herself any longer, she lifts off the seat and leans over him, capturing his lips with hers. They’re cracked and dry, no doubt from being undercover in who knows what kind of conditions, but none of that matters. Ron’s alive, and he’s kissing her back.

Look at this heart shaped wreckage

What have we done?

We’ve got scars from battles nobody won

We can start over, better

Both of us know if we just let the broken pieces

Let the broken pieces go

“I’m so sorry.” The apology seems frail as she mutters the words against his lips.

His other hand reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear and wipe the tears from her face. “It’s okay.”

“Don’t ever do something that stupid again.”

“Only if you give me a reason not to.”

Let the broken pieces go

Just hold on to each other tonight

“I will, I promise.”

She pulls away to look into his tired, bright blue eyes that carry the hope she feels in her chest.

“Does that mean…?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know what life is going to throw at me, Ron, but I only want to take it if you’re by my side.”

“It’s about time you came to your senses.”

The hand that’s still cupping her cheek adjusts to pull her back to him as he does his best to crash his lips into hers for a searing, though still tender, kiss. His breath is hot as he groans against her mouth, solidifying their reunification. There’s an unspoken agreement to let the broken pieces of the past go.

Tonight, they’ll start over, rewriting the stars to match their love story the way it’s meant to be.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission #tw: implied death #tw: implied violence #romione #ron weasley x hermione granger #hermione granger x ron weasley

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fantastic-nonsense · 11 months ago

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That, like most things related to Wonder Woman lore, is a difficult question. DC fundamentally does not respect the Wonder Woman mythos on the same level that they do Superman and Batman, so unfortunately her age can vary wildly depending on the story, continuity, and screen adaptation. In the comics, though, the answer has largely consistently been "she's less than 30 years old when she arrives in Man's World" because they want to keep her age vaguely contemporaneous to Clark and Bruce.

Pre-Crisis!Diana was a grown woman when she first entered Man's World, but was also usually shown as being a contemporary of Clark and Bruce. She was not portrayed as significantly older or younger than either of them, but was significantly older upon leaving the island than she has usually been portrayed as being since 1987. Post-Flashpoint!Diana's age has been very nebulous, but she is also usually portrayed as being of a similar age to Clark and Bruce.

For our purposes, the post-Crisis continuity remains the blueprint for the Amazonian backstory and thus Diana's birth, so I'll give a more detailed answer using that one: there, Diana was 21 when she left the island. She was born long after the Amazons were enslaved by Heracles and broke free, long after they were sent to Themiscyra by the goddesses to guard Doom's Doorway, and long after they had built a functioning society and begun living on the island as a society of ageless, immortal women. Specifically, she is born approximately 30 centuries (or 3000 years) after the Amazons arrive on Themiscyra:

Outside, beyond the seas, the world of Man changes. Great civilizations rise and fall. But the Amazons know nothing of this. They hear only the voices of the Old Gods grow more distant—as if Olympus itself were being swallowed in the clouds!........thus it is that on this fateful night, during the 30th centennial of Paradise Island...... -Wonder Woman (1987) #1

Diana is then raised collectively by the Amazons as the sole child of Paradise Island, which deeply informs her perspective on Amazonian culture and ideals:

Diana! The word sings from the lips of all Amazons. She is the only child they have touched in over 30 centuries, and her innocence stirs the love of Aphrodite within them! So it is that the infant princess knows the care of a thousand mothers...of the Queen's most learned scholars! They read her their history—that she might be one with them, heart and soul! And the more she matures...the more she excels! -Wonder Woman (1987) #1

She was depicted by George Perez in his debut "Gods and Mortals" arc as a sheltered young hero whose initial entrance into Man's World and fight against Ares functions as a "coming of age" narrative:

It is so...unfair! Was I born only to be coddled like some eternal infant? Am I not an Amazon? Am I not a woman? "Oh Gods of Olympus! Though I love Paradise, I yearn for more from my life...I yearn for purpose!" -Wonder Woman (1987) #1

And was also far from the first superhero on the scene, as post-Crisis continuity depicts a world where several superheroes (including Superman, Batman, and Black Canary) are already operating when she begins integrating herself into Man's World:

Now, for the first time, it seemed as if Diana might finally find some sense of belonging in Man's world. But, despite their warm welcome, Diana fled this company of heroes even as she was invited to join the newly reformed Justice League.....however, from that day forward, Diana was constantly discussing these unique beings. The Black Canary was the first female crimefighter the Princess had ever seen. On Paradise Island, Diana said the Canary would have been hailed as a great gladiator.............Most interesting was the strange silence that would come over Diana whenever I mentioned Superman. She would not talk about him-as if some unspoken secret existed between them. Maybe some day she'll tell me about it. -Wonder Woman (1987) #8

This, of course, has somewhat changed over the years as DC has done some soft retconning to emphasize the Trinity as equals, friends, and co-founders of the Justice League, but the one thing that rarely changes in these origin retellings is that Superman and Batman are already established heroes when Diana arrives on the scene as a fresh-faced new hero. Her actual age has fluctuated from being somewhat younger to being about the same age to being a little older, but largely: Diana been portrayed as being of a relatively similar age to Clark and Bruce, while Wonder Woman debuts as a hero at least a couple of years after Superman and Batman.

On the topic of Diana's immortality...tricky question. The gift of Amazonian immortality is usually specifically linked to Themiscyra. If an Amazon leaves the island, their immortality is forfeit and they become mortal, though the reasoning behind this change differs:

At the age of 15, she recieved her bracelets of submission at the altar of Aphrodite and first drank from the Fountain of Eternal Youth. As long as she remained on Paradise Island, Hippolyta told her, she would remain always young by drinking from that spring. -Who's Who: The Definitive Directory of the DC Universe (1985)

As long as you remain [on the island] and shirk not your new charge-you shall live as immortals and your souls shall again become pure. -Wonder Woman (1987) #1

"This champion...my Queen, you would damn one of our sisters to eternal exile. Any who leave Themiscyra can never return. Their immortality is forfeit. She would be a woman in a world of men." -Wonder Woman (2016) #4

This is why the other Amazonian tribes who don't live on Themiscyra—the Bana-Mighdall and the Esquecidas—are not functionally immortal the way the Themiscyrans are. Themiscyran Amazons can be killed, but they are generally immortal in the sense that they will not age, get sick, or die of natural causes.

While this is not universally the case for Diana specifically (occasionally writers want to put in weird stuff about her being immortal because she's a clay baby or Zeus's demigod daughter), Diana is usually portrayed as a very hardy, long-lived mortal once she leaves Themiscyra. She's even been killed on a couple of different occasions (most notably in the 90s, when she was killed by Neron and spent a bit of time operating as the Goddess of Truth, and a couple of years ago after sacrificing herself to save the multiverse in Dark Knights: Death Metal). But she has never been depicted as already being thousands of years old when she first arrives in Man's World in main comics continuity; unfortunately a lot of adaptations, where most peoples' knowledge of her comes from, seem to want to treat her like a female Thor instead of the unique character that she is and so they tend to dial up her age a lot.

In the comics, Diana is often contrasted with the rest of her people because where they've already experienced the joys and horrors of Man's World (both in their first lives and their reincarnated ones as Amazons) she had not. Diana was and remains the only Amazon truly born on Themiscyra rather than being reincarnated via the Well of Souls, and she is born from clay and the goddesses' will rather than through "natural" birth. She is the hope and promise of Amazonia realized, a child who grew up completely separated from Man's World and any cultures it contains.

Because of her unique birth and childhood, she is able to be a fresh voice of truth and reason among a mythos of ancient gods too set and stubborn in their ways to see the Truth, a society of women who have been scarred and disillusioned by their own experiences and victimization in Man's World, and the world of men not prepared for her earnest mission to teach Amazonian ideals to mankind. That is her function as a character and it's one she fills very well!

However, this is not to say that the Wonder Woman mythos is without the "ageless immortal Amazonian warrior woman who's already spent a lifetime fighting against gods and men and mythological monsters." It's just not Diana! It's her mom, Hippolyta:

"A fierce, aggressive warrior, Hippolyta was also a decisive leader.....As Wonder Woman, Hippolyta fought alongside the JSA to end Nazi tyranny in World War II...Hippolyta and Heracles face off in ancient Greece." -Wonder Woman: Secret Files and Origins (2002) #3

When DC revamped Wonder Woman lore in the late 90s to explain why Wonder Woman was active during World War II, they did not attempt to explain it by saying that Diana was actually thousands of years old and had been operating as a hero for decades before Clark and Bruce were born. They just said it was her mom, who had temporarily time travelled and spent a few years there working with the JSA! Which is a perfectly valid explanation that doesn't compromise Diana's unique story and place amongst the Amazons.

This is what ultimately frustrates me about Diana age discourse: you don't need to make Diana into something she isn't to get the character you want to see! All you need to do is acknowledge that other Amazons exist and read about them instead!

Honestly, people can argue about Diana's age when she arrives in Man's World if they like—there's lots of contradictory canon to argue about there—but it should still be a somewhat reasonable age that is relatively similar to Clark and Bruce's ages, none of this "she's 1000/2000/3000 years old" nonsense.

Wonder Woman age discourse is happening on twitter again. when will I be free

#wonder woman #diana of themyscira #wonder woman meta #dc meta #dc comics #long post #queue

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lin-nin · 4 years ago

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Tribulation & Tenderness - Chapter 9

Ship: Main Technoblade x Reader, some Dream x Reader

Plot: You're a princess in a Kingdom suffering a years long famine. In a desperate attempt to help your people, you accept one simple offer: Marriage to the crown prince of a neighboring kingdom. Anything to help your people survive. Surely it can't be too bad, can it?

Chapter List: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 Disclaimer: Cross-posted on Wattpad (discontinued) and Ao3. This is based off of everyone's CHARACTERS. I do not write fanfic based off the actual people.

Chapter 9: Tours

< | Previous Chapter

The castle was nothing short if huge, as well as breathtaking. It, truly, made the castle in your own kingdom feel small. Then again, your kingdom was never exactly huge to begin with. Techno's felt as if it would sprawl on for ages. You had no idea how you'd get through this place on your own. Honestly, if it weren't for Techno’s hand gingerly placed upon your back, you would probably have already gotten lost.

You hardly noticed the hand most of the time, only absently aware of the warmth of it. He led you down the hall Wilbur had gone down, first, taking a turn to the right when the hallway branched off. Various paintings lined the walls, some catching your attention long enough to peer at. Whenever you did, Techno would stop and tell you what he knew of the paintings, whether they be portraits of his father following some conquest or battle, or of the sun setting over a ridge that lay somewhere in the kingdom. You couldn’t help but lament how pretty some of the places were. Each time you did, Techno would assure you you would likely get to see each place at some point.

You were eventually led to the kitchens, which were bustling with servants and chefs. That’s where Wilbur had gone to, you found out. The blonde woman beside him must have been the Nihachu he spoke of. You don’t know what you had expected, but it wasn’t exactly a chef. She was talking animatedly, a soft grin on her flour-splattered face. Wilbur had turned to glance at the door way, offering a faint smile your way. Nihachu’s gaze followed and she only dipped her head in a form of bow, hands busy with the ball of dough in front of her.

“Nihachu, she’s our head chef and an old friend of Wilbur’s. You’ll get to properly meet her tomorrow,” Techno informed from beside you. You simply nodded at that, letting him steer you away from the kitchen. The area the both of you were currently in consisted largely of servants quarters and storage rooms of the sorts. Nothing too exciting for you to see, though. That was fine, so long as it made the tour short.

At the end of the west wing was a door leading outside, into a large courtyard. This one seemed to have been turned into a bit of a training grounds. Curiosity lit up your eyes as you looked at the flattened area of grass with training dummies littering the edge. Techno laughed at the way you stared at it, patting your back a couple of times. “Wilbur, Tommy, and I train there. You’ll be able to soon.” You nodded, fingers running along the hilt of your dagger.

The courtyard opened up into a garden, which you only really glanced at. Your heart ached briefly, thoughts of George flooding your thoughts. You didn’t know when you would be able to walk through the gardens again. Not without thinking of him. The two of you had always gotten into such trouble in the gardens. They felt empty without his laughter ringing through the air, even if it wasn’t the gardens you had grown up in.

Techno led you through to the opposite side of the courtyard, away from the garden. A veranda greeted you, and you stepped up onto it. Of course Techno insisted on holding your hand to help you up, but you were becoming quite used to that. It was a little strange, but not entirely unwelcome. It was sweet.

“This is the ballroom. Where we hold our big celebrations, birthdays and the like. We’ll wind up holding the wedding here as well.” Techno pushed open one of the doors on the veranda, leading the pair of you into a large circular room. It was impressive. Not that you expected less. You wondered what the wedding would be like, briefly. It was hard to imagine it as your own. Everytime you did, your stomach flipped.

"Is there anywhere in here that isn't pretty?" You wondered, awestruck, aloud. It seemed unlikely. Techno laughed again, an occurrence that was becoming more common. Good. The way his laugh differed so vastly from his voice was nice. It made it pleasant.

"Maybe not in appearance, but I assure you that there's unsavory things here." His hand abandoned yours again, a feeling you didn't like still. At the very least he was once more guiding you along with a hand to your back. The exit from the ballroom took the pair of you back to the main room from earlier, emerging from between the stairs. Which presumably meant that all that remained on the main floor was the east wing. Which was exactly where Techno was leading you next.

"This wing is mainly official rooms- the throne room is here, as well as our dining hall. The library sits at the end of the wing," Techno explained as the pair of you walked. You nodded as he did, looking at everything you pass. Some doors he didn’t open, saying they were someone's office or another. There were a few rooms, the ones with mostly closed doors, that he did let you wander in.

When you had arrived at the dining hall, you took in every painting gracing the walls. These seemed more personal. All of them were portraits. You were attracted to one of the larger ones, scrutinizing it in your curiosity.

It depicted the royal family. The current one, at that. Even if the portrait was outdated. The King was sat in his throne, with a woman you could only assume was the Queen beside him. She was pretty, brown hair braided neatly, though you could see a few curls escaping it. That must be where they got the curls from, then. She had the same eyes Wilbur and Techno did. Warm, and kind. They were that brown that was comforting in a way you adored.

In front of the king stood who could only be Wilbur, looking very sullen. It was strange, compared to the warmth he seemed to radiate now. Tommy was in front of him, looking gangly but with a grin on his face that didn't seem to fit that of a royal family portrait. A bandage covered his cheek, a green bandana curled around his neck. He looked carefree, though that wasn't too different from the impression he gave off earlier.

Which meant the last figure, standing in front of the Queen, had to be Techno. It wasn't exactly what you would have expected, though. Instead of the long pink hair he sported now, it was cropped fairly short and blonde. He looked just as sullen as his older brother, but you had a feeling you knew why. His face was marked with a red scar, angling towards his eye. The one he mentioned getting from Wilbur.

"I'd been named crown prince about three days before this picture, this was about five years ago," Techno muttered from behind you. You turned back to him, glancing at him, then back to the painting. It was hard to connect that that was him.

"I never pictured you as a blonde." Those were the initial words out of your mouth, out of everything you had thought about. You commented on his hair.

He huffed softly in laughter at that, head shaking. "Did you think my hair was naturally pink? I have an image to uphold as crown prince." Him and his image that he was so obsessed with. You couldn't help the soft giggle that escaped you as you shook your head.

"I wasn't sure what I pictured, but it wasn't blonde. Your mother- The Queen- I haven't met her. Is there a reason?" You finally broached one question that stuck out to you in your mind. She hadn't shown to your kingdom, and you had yet to see her around.

Techno's amused face slowly faded, a frown replacing the smile he had worn. His brows furrowed for a few moments before he sighed. Should you have not asked that? "She'd been sick for a while. She died about half a year after that portrait. We still don't know what it was, it only affected her." He sounded distant as he spoke of his mother, and now you really felt guilty. Especially as he gazed at the painting with a forlorn look.

Without much else thought, you reached out and took his hand, giving it a squeeze. To force his attention back towards you. "Show me more of the castle," You murmured. Trying hard to distract him from what you were sure was an unpleasant memory. He looked down at you for a few moments, before nodding and leading you from the dining hall and the numerous portraits that filled the walls.

He took you through the rest of the east wing, telling you about certain things when he deemed necessary. After the east wing, it was time to go upstairs. This is where several bedrooms were, heading down each wing. Some were for the royal family, others for guests. Some just existed simply as spares, which you noted were the ones Tubbo would possibly be granted.

"This is the room I stay in," Techno broke you from your reverie as he knocked on the wood of the door. Something in your stomach flipped at that. Would you be expected to stay with him? You knew the two of you were getting married, but the nerves always got you. Heat rose to your cheeks at the meer thought. You heard that huff of his as he led you a little further down the hall. It made the heat spread to your ears.

"This one is your room, to stay in and decorate as you please." He leaned around you, pushing the door open carefully. The room was large, a four poster bed settled near a window. The blanket from your mother was folded neatly on it, and you were truly relieved for it. To one side was a fireplace with a couple of chairs in front of it, a door a few feet away. The other side of the room had another door. You assumed one held your clothes, while the other held bathing chambers. Good, you had everything you would need here.

"Thank you," you sighed in relief, smiling up at him. He returned the smile, motioning you into the room.

"It's courtesy. If you need me at any point, you can check my room. If I'm not there, just ask around." You nodded at his words. Good, you could deal with that. Maybe this entire arrangement wouldn’t be all too bad. Next Chapter | >

#dream #dream smp #dream team #dream x reader #dreamwastaken #kingdom au #reader insert #sleepy bois family #sleepy bois inc #technoblade #technoblade x reader #t&t

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cappymightwrite · 3 years ago

Note

So I’ve just read your meta on the TWOW Alayne I sample chapter (it’s amazing btw!) and I noticed something while reading it that I wanted to share and see if anybody else has noticed - nearly every man Alayne dances with during the feast could be taken as a reference to Jon or the Night’s Watch.

Ben Coldwater -> Snow is, obviously, cold water, and Ben is a sneaky Benjen reference

Andrew Tollett -> most likely related to Dolorous Edd Tollett, Jon’s old steward and good friend

Ser Byron the Beautiful -> GRRM has described Jon as a Byronic hero

Ser Morgarth and Ser Shadrich the Mad Mouse -> these men are more dubious, I’m not really sure of the link with Morgarth. Shadrich is a callback from Brienne’s AFFC plot though, and a sign that Sansa’s cover isn’t as secure as she and Littlefinger think it is

Ser Albar Royce - a reference to Waymar Royce, he of the many Jon parallels and Sansa’s old crush, though she finds his cousin(?) stout and dull

The Sunderlands - their family are the lords of the Three Sisters. In ADWD, Davos is told a story on Sweetsister about Ned having to sneak across the Bite during Robert’s Rebellion, to get North and call his banners. A fisherman helped him but drowned when a storm caught their boat - but his daughter got Ned safely to the Sisters. The prevailing story on the islands seems to be that he left her with a bag of silver and a bastard in her belly, whom she named after Jon Arryn

Uther Shett - I was half-convinced this guy also had a relative on the wall, because his name (insulting pun aside) seems to be a reference to Chett, the prologue POV of ASOS who had a grudge against Jon for losing him his position as one of Maester Aemon’s stewards in favour of Sam

Ser Targon the Halfwild - Jon will likely be half-wild when he comes back from the dead, but he’s already been described as ‘half a wildling’ multiple times. Also Targon = Targ-Jon?

Ser Roland and Ser Wallace Waynwood - both are described earlier in the chapter as long-faced with brown hair, which are also Stark features. Alayne thinks of them as “horsefaced”, probably an Arya reference that also calls back to her and Jon’s shared Stark look. Wallace is even the same age as Robb, and thus Jon, would be.

So though Jon wasn’t mentioned by name in the chapter, I think he was very present... not just lemoncake-wise ;)

Thank you! :D Haha for a moment there I was like...wait which meta? Had to take my mind back for a sec there because I've written quite a bit since then! But yeah, doing deep dives into certain chapters is really fun — my next one that's in the works is Jon XI in A Dance With Dragons. Great to hear you enjoyed my Winds one :)

Ooooh that is really interesting and a mighty fine catch! Definitely the vibe I got whilst reading that chapter, after having analysed Alayne II, AFFC (which chronologically precedes it), is that Jon's presence or references to him are made subtly throughout the chapter(s) — especially whenever Winterfell is alluded to because Jon is the "Snow of Wintefell", the "blood of Winterfell", etc. But also vice versa, Sansa is very much connected to Winterfell in Jon's chapters as well — "Winterfell belongs to my sister, Sansa."

But let's take a look at those names you listed below the cut! Big post ahead, so buckle up kids!

So, I hadn't noticed the significance of those names on my reading, but I can well believe what you're suggesting because it plays very much into how I interpreted the subconscious goings on of that chapter — that you have these rememberances/reminders of Winterfell and Sansa's Stark idenity at crucial moments within the chapter’s narrative pacing, especially prior to moments with Harry the Heir. Not to sound too crass, but it's sort like a marking of territory, and this is made even stronger by that goddamn phallic as hell Giant's Lance lemoncake (aka Jon's peen). It's all quite neatly buried, but when you start matching up the imagery...I mean, I guess wolves are territorial beasts, so...checks out? (George...why are you like this?)

It is interesting that we get that iconic entrance of the Giant's Lance lemoncake prior to these dance partners, i.e. a claim has been staked essentially, and it ain't from Littlefinger, which is what could be interpreted on first inspection. And let's not beat around the bush, as uncomfortable as it is (because Sansa is ONLY 13/14!!), this is a sexual claim being made owing to the phallic symbolism and the general tone of the chapter being about Alayne's betrothal/marriage:

And best of all, Lord Nestor’s cooks prepared a splendid subtlety, a lemon cake in the shape of the Giant’s Lance, twelve feet tall and adorned with an Eyrie made of sugar.

For me, Alayne thought, as they wheeled it out.

I legit just snorted re-reading this: "splendid subtlety" MY ASS! What follows is a whole lot of gift-giving, which come to think of it, in combination with this bloody big cake...well, it reads quite a bit like a wedding breakfast to me, followed by dancing, in addition to a possible nod to a Stark bridal cloak, masked by the Arryn colours:

There were gifts as well, splendid gifts. Each of the competitors received a cloak of cloth-of-silver and a lapis brooch in the shape of a pair of falcon’s wings. Fine steel daggers were given to the brothers, fathers, and friends who had come to watch them tilt. For their mothers, sisters, and ladies fair there were bolts of silk and Myrish lace.

Because if we compare this "cloak of cloth-of-silver" with previous descriptions of Sansa's maiden cloak, we see this obvious recurring inclusion of either silver or grey as one of the Stark colours:

Cersei Lannister ignored the question. "The cloak," she commanded, and the women brought it out: a long cloak of white velvet heavy with pearls. A fierce direwolf was embroidered upon it in silver thread. Sansa looked at it with sudden dread. "Your father's colors," said Cersei, as they fastened it about her neck with a slender silver chain.

A maiden's cloak. Sansa's hand went to her throat. She would have torn the thing away if she had dared. – ASOS, Sansa III

"[...] and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back...why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright [...]" – AFFC, Alayne II

This is all very in keeping with the theme of the chapter, which is meeting Alayne's betrothed, Harrold Hardyng, so obviously a future marriage/alliance is very much a prevalent theme here. Furthermore, the mention of "Myrish lace" for the "ladies fair" does somewhat remind me of Alys Karstark's wedding garb:

The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart. "Let him be scared of me." The snowflakes were melting on her cheeks, but her hair was wrapped in a swirl of lace that Satin had found somewhere, and the snow had begun to collect there, giving her a frosty crown. Her cheeks were flushed and red, and her eyes sparkled.

"Winter's lady." Jon squeezed her hand. – ADWD, Jon X

I think some other people have mentioned before how even though Jon makes a conscious comparison between Arya and Alys — "reminded Jon so much of his little sister" — the romanticised, flushed cheeked imagery very much points towards a subconsious allusion to Sansa (ETA: anyone spoken on this got a link?). With that in mind, we could see this as foreshadowing of not only Jonsa, but a Jonsa wedding, and Sansa as Queen in the North — "a frosty crown" "Winter's lady" — with Jon as her king/consort. In my current Jon chapter analysis I've been working with the idea that actually as soon as Jon starts romanticising a girl, which is notably different from just noticing someone's physical beauty (e.g. with Val), that is when the subconscious comparisons to Sansa really jump out.

But anyway! Onto those names...or rather, Jon Snow stand-ins.

Rising, [Ben Coldwater] offered Alayne his hand. “Would you honor me with this dance, my lady?”

“You’re very kind,” she said, as he led her to the floor.

He was her first partner of the evening, but far from the last. Just as Petyr had promised, the young knights flocked around her, vying for her favor. After Ben came Andrew Tollett, handsome Ser Byron, red-nosed Ser Morgarth, and Ser Shadrich the Mad Mouse. Then Ser Albar Royce, Myranda’s stout dull brother and Lord Nestor’s heir. She danced with all three Sunderlands, none of whom had webs between their fingers, though she could not vouch for their toes. Uther Shett appeared to pay her slimy compliments as he trod upon her feet, but Ser Targon the Halfwild proved to be the soul of courtesy. After that Ser Roland Waynwood swept her up and made her laugh with mocking comments about half the other knights in the hall. His uncle Wallace took a turn as well and tried to do the same, but the words would not come. Alayne finally took pity on him and began to chatter happily, to spare him the embarrassment. When the dance was done she excused herself, and went back to her place to have a drink of wine.

And there he stood, Harry the Heir himself; tall, handsome, scowling. “Lady Alayne. May I partner you in this dance?”

She considered for a moment. “No. I don’t think so.”

If I've counted that right, that's 14 men? Alright, here we go.

First up...Ben Coldwater

I think you're right that Ben Coldwater feels very much like a nod to Ben-jen Stark, who is referred to as Ben a few times I think, and Jon Snow (cold water = snow), both men of the Night's Watch. House Coldwater also traces its lineage back to the First Men, and are sworn to House Royce, who are also notably descended from the First Men, have previously married into the Stark family and still maintain close connections to the current house through Ned's fosterage in the Vale. So, through the Royces, we see another possible connection to the Starks and Jon Snow...Jon Snow who was named after Jon Arryn.

I would also add that we have Ben make this inquiry prior to his dance with Alayne:

“Are there no singers?” asked Ben Coldwater.

I don't know, maybe I'm reaching but...singers feature quite a lot in connection to Jon, for instance:

Mance Rayder, who infiltrates Winterfell disguised as a singer called Abel, an anagram of Bael, aka Bael the Bard;

Bael the Bard and the Blue Rose of Winterfell — a story told to Jon by Ygritte, which very much evokes the tale of Rhaegar and Lyanna;

Rhaegar Targaryen, Jon's real father, was a notably skilled lyre player, whose singing supposedly made Lyanna cry — "The dragon prince sang a song so sad it made the wolf maid sniffle," (ASOS, Bran II). He is also theorised to have written the song Jenny of Oldstones, possibly for the Ghost of High Heart, Jenny's friend.

Ygritte — when Jon starts to find her more attractive, when he starts to romanticise her, he observes that "sometimes she sang in a low husky voice that stirred him," (ASOS, Jon II).

Val — again, we start to see Jon begin to warm to Val, to see her in more of a romantic + typically feminine light, because of her singing to the baby Monster: "I have heard you singing to him," (ADWD, Jon VIII).

Sansa — oh, my sweet Sansa...when remembering his family, not quite in his dying moments, but a little bit prior to that, Jon thinks "Of Sansa, brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow," (ADWD, Jon XIII).

I think it's clear that Jon loves a good song and you know what? He'd probably be asking about the lack of singers too! One final detail perhaps worth noting is the seat of House Coldwater:

[...] the Coldwaters of Coldwater Burn [...] – TWOIAF, The Vale

Obviously, the "song of ice and fire" is not a person, but more the elemental and destructive forces of the Others and the dragons, yet nevertheless, through Jon's parentage, as well as his actions (burned hand, etc.), plus his personality to a certain extent (hot-headed then repressing emotions) you do have this duality of hot and cold, of fire and ice...Coldwater Burn? Could be something.

Ser Andrew Tollett

So, like you said, the name Tollett immediately puts us in mind of Eddison Tollett, also known as Dolorous Edd, who is like Jon, a black brother of the Night's Watch. And he is a good brother to Jon, voting for him in the election for the Lord Commander, as well as becoming his loyal steward for a time, before being sent on a mission to Long Barrow. Interestingly, Dolorous Edd, as well as the Tolletts in general, do have a bit of a Stark vibe to them...

Like a typical Stark, Dolorous Edd is described as having a "long face" (ACOK, Jon III), a face like a mule's to be exact, but also notably a horse's as well:

"[...] Me, I have the mules. Nettles claims we're kin. It's true we have the same long face, but I'm not near as stubborn [...]" – ADWD, Jon XII

He only wished he had time to kill Tollett as well. Gloomy horsefaced fool, that's what he is. – ASOS, Prologue

He is given the nickname Dolorous Edd (dolorous = mournful), and is referred to several times as being "dour" (ACOK, Jon II, Jon III, ASOS, Jon V, ADWD, Jon XII, XIII), an attribute not entirely out of place when we consider some notable Starks and their disposition, as well as their house words:

He had the Stark face if not the name: long, solemn, guarded, a face that gave nothing away. – AGOT, Tyrion II

Winter is coming. The Stark words had never sounded so grim or ominous to Jon as they did now. – AGOT, Jon VIII

I gave my maidenhood to this solemn stranger and sent him off to his war and his king and the woman who bore him his bastard, because I always did my duty. – ACOK, Catelyn VI

Ned was shorter and plainer of face, and so somber. He spoke courteously enough, but beneath the words she sensed a coolness that was all at odds with Brandon, whose mirths had been as wild as his rages [...] And after the war, at Winterfell, I had love enough for any woman, once I found the good sweet heart beneath Ned's solemn face. – ASOS, Catelyn V

So, not unlike Jon, Arya and Ned, Dolorous Edd has a "long and solemn" face (AGOT, Arya I), as well as a "dour" personality. Furthermore, even House Tollet of Grey Glen's sigil and words have Stark vibes, since according to semi-canon sources, their shield is "pily grey and black" and their words are "When all is darkest," which arguably carries the same ominous, Long Night warning of "Winter is coming". In addition to this, like the Coldwaters, the Tollets are sworn to the First Men descended Royces.

But beyond this, if we take a look at some legendary and historical Tolletts...we actually have two notable names:

Torgold Tollett — also known as Torgold the Grim, though ironically, because he was famous for riding into battle laughing, and naked from the waist up:

The songs say that Torgold knew no fear and felt no pain. Though bleeding from a score of wounds, he cut a red swathe through Lord Redfort's staunchest warriors, then took his lordship's arm off at the shoulder with a single cut. Nor was he dismayed when the sorceress Ursula Upcliff appeared upon a bloodred horse to curse him. By then he was bare-handed, having left both of his axes buried in a foe's chest, but the singers say he leapt upon the witch's horse, grasped her face between two bloody hands, and tore her head from her shoulders as she screamed for succor. – TWOIAF, The Vale

Ser Jon Tollett — In Fire & Blood, Jon Tollett is recorded as a member of King Maegor the Cruel's Kingsguard. After the king's mysterious death, his successor, King Jaeherys I, offered Maegor's surviving Kingsguard a choice between execution or taking the black. Jon Tollett chose the latter. This somewhat parallels Ned's decision to take the black, to a certain extent.

You could argue that there are more than a few similarities, or future foreshadowings, between these Tolletts and Jon Snow...

Ser Byron the Beautiful

Like you mentioned, Jon Snow has been described by GRRM as a "Byronic, romantic hero". I'm so annoyed with myself, because I had written up some good stuff on how Jon really does possess certain Byronic traits but as I was inserting a gif it ended up deleting most of what I wrote...so I'm still a bit bitter over that, but will rewrite it at some point soon. Take my word for it though, Jon Snow is 100% more of a Byronic Hero (a la Byron's own Manfred), than Sandor Clegane, for example:

GRRM: “Well who wouldn’t want to be Jon Snow — the brooding, Byronic, romantic hero whom all the girls love.” [source]

Ser Byron, as well as being described as beautiful, is also notably very gallant, the perfect knight:

"Dutiful and beautiful," said an elegant young knight whose thick blond mane cascaded down well past his shoulders. – AFFC, Alayne II

We all know that Sansa appreciates a bit of genuine courtesy, and in fact, she's taught Jon well in that regard:

"Gilly, he called me. For the gillyflower."

"That's pretty." He remembered Sansa telling him once that he should say that whenever a lady told him her name. He could not help the girl, but perhaps the courtesy would please her. – ACOK, Jon III

I think this Jon stand-in does rely mostly on Jon's connection to the Byronic Hero. So, if anyone is still a bit dubious on that (because Rochester and Heathcliff are trash), just hang in there for my eventual meta on the subject, which focuses on Lord Byron's OG Byronic Hero, rather than the later Brontë/Victorian iterations.

In fact, in terms of Jon's parentage and future romance with Sansa, there's one Byronic tale that may be a particular source of inspiration — The Bride of Abydos. This poem notably includes a romance in which half-siblings are revealed to be cousins...sound familiar?

Ser Morgarth the Merry

Another hedge knight, like Ser Byron, who is sworn into the service of Petyr Baelish. I've got to agree with you here, red-nosed Ser Morgarth's connection to Jon is quite a bit harder to decipher! I have done a little digging though, and it is possible that the Garth in Morgarth is a reference to several Garths that appear in Jon's chapters, as well as Garth Greenhand, the alleged ancestor of legendary House Stark founder...Brandon the Builder:

Garth of Oldtown

Garth of Greenaway

Garth Greyfeather

All of these Garths are rangers/members of the Night's Watch at the same time as Jon, though I think by Dance it is presumed that they are all dead, or at least missing — in fact, Garth of Greenaway kills Garth of Oldtown. Garth on Garth violence!!

Haha, oh god...I think I just got the pun...Morgarth = More Garth! More Garths the merrier! Get it?! More Garths everybody!

George, I hate you.

Ok, so that's what that is. It's literally just a dumb pun, yet it also connects Morgarth to the Night's Watch Garths, and therefore Jon.

Ser Shadrich the Mad Mouse

I think you're right that Ser Shadrich's presence connects us to Brienne's quest, as well as foreshadowing potential shit hitting the fan at the tourney of the Winged Knights. But he also notably makes some interesting remarks, both to Brienne and Sansa, which we can connect to Jon Snow's secret Targaryen heritage:

"Where?" Brienne slapped another silver stag down.

He flicked the coin back at her with his forefinger. "Someplace no stag ever found...though a dragon might." – AFFC, Brienne III

On the surface, in response to Brienne's questioning about the whereabouts of the Stark sisters, Shadrich is talking about a monetary bribe. However, beneath that explicit meaning, is an implicit reference to a stag (Joffrey) failing, where a dragon (Jon) will succeed. Others have talked about this line in more detail elsewhere, but it seems like a pretty good allusion to the foils, Joffrey (a prince who is really a bastard) and Jon (a bastard who is really a prince).

In this exact Winds chapter, however, we also see a conversation between Alayne and Shadrich, which hints at his possible plans to uncover and abduct Sansa Stark in return for a lucrative reward:

“A good melee is all a hedge knight can hope for, unless he stumbles on a bag of dragons. And that’s not likely, is it?”

This "stumbl[ing] on a bag of dragons" could also be seen as an implicit nod towards stumbling upon Jon's Targaryen heritage later in the novel, something that is more "likely" than anyone would expect. That claim might be a reach, were it not for the implication that when Shadrich talks about money, i.e. dragons...he isn't actually talking about gold coins, he's talking about Targaryens, but more than that...he's talking specifically about Jon Snow.

Ser Albar Royce

"Myranda’s stout dull brother and Lord Nestor’s heir." I think like Ser Morgarth, the physical appearance of these stand-ins doesn't always play a factor, because it would be kind of unnerving if they all had solemn long faces... So, what is important here is, like you say, the name Royce and his relation to Ser Waymar Royce, Sansa's first crush, who just happens to resemble and parallels Jon quite a bit:

She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar, she remembered dimly, but that was a lifetime ago, when she was a stupid little girl. – AFFC, Alayne I

Ser Waymar Royce was the youngest son of an ancient house with too many heirs. He was a handsome youth of eighteen, grey-eyed and graceful and slender as a knife. Mounted on his huge black destrier, the knight towered above Will and Gared on their smaller garrons. He wore black leather boots, black woolen pants, black moleskin gloves, and a fine supple coat of gleaming black ringmail over layers of black wool and boiled leather. Ser Waymar had been a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch for less than half a year, but no one could say he had not prepared for his vocation. At least insofar as his wardrobe was concerned. – AGOT, Prologue

Jon's eyes were a grey so dark they seemed almost black, but there was little they did not see. He was of an age with Robb, but they did not look alike. Jon was slender where Robb was muscular, dark where Robb was fair, graceful and quick where his half brother was strong and fast. – AGOT, Bran I

"They're not my brothers," Jon snapped. "They hate me because I'm better than they are." – AGOT, Jon III

Although, it is worth noting that the Royces, as a whole, do somewhat resemble the Starks in appearance, at least in terms of their eye colour:

Bronze Yohn Royce, the current head of House Royce of Runestone, has "slate-grey eyes" as well as a "solemn face", (AFFC, Alayne I).

Ser Robar, his second son was "comely in a rough-hewn way" (ACOK, Catelyn III), with "pale" eyes (ACOK, Catelyn IV), possibly grey like his father's.

Ser Waymar, Yohn's third son, as mentioned, was "grey-eyed" (AGOT, Prologue).

It isn't as clear whether or not their cadet branch, which Albar belongs to, tend towards grey eyes as well, though we know that Myranda has brown hair, specifically "thick chestnut curls" (AFFC, Alayne II) — typical looking Starks, like Ned, Arya, and Jon, all have brown/dark hair.

As previously mentioned, the Royces are also descended from the First Men, have kinship links to the Starks, knew Ned when he fostered in the Vale, and Bronze Yohn even "knows" Sansa Stark:

"Bronze Yohn knows me," she reminded him. "He was a guest at Winterfell when his son rode north to take the black." She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar, she remembered dimly, but that was a lifetime ago, when she was a stupid little girl. "And that was not the only time. Lord Royce saw...he saw Sansa Stark again at King's Landing, during the Hand's tourney." – AFFC, Alayne I

His seamed and solemn face brought back all of Sansa's memories of his time at Winterfell. She remembered him at table, speaking quietly with her mother. She heard his voice booming off the walls when he rode back from a hunt with a buck behind his saddle. She could see him in the yard, a practice sword in hand, hammering her father to the ground and turning to defeat Ser Rodrik as well. He will know me. How could he not? She considered throwing herself at his feet to beg for his protection. He never fought for Robb, why should he fight for me? The war is finished and Winterfell is fallen. "Lord Royce," she asked timidly, "will you have a cup of wine, to take the chill off?"

Bronze Yohn had slate-grey eyes, half-hidden beneath the bushiest eyebrows she had ever seen. They crinkled when he looked down at her. "Do I know you, girl?" – AFFC, Alayne I

They also have the house words "We will remember", which somewhat evokes the recurring refrain "the north remembers" (ASOS, Catelyn, ADWD, Davos IV, ADWD, A Ghost in Winterfell, TWOW, Theon I), as well as a possible remembrance of the Long Night, similar to the Starks’ and Tolletts’ words. All in all, as well as evoking a certain Starkness (and Jon-ness), the Royces seem set up to be staunch allies of the Starks going forward.

All Three Sunderlands

Since these Sunderland brothers aren't given names, we can assume what is significant about them, in relation to Jon and Sansa, is their Sunderland name. As you noted, the Sunderlands are the reigning lords of the Three Sisters, and in Dance, through Davos' pov, we hear about Ned's time there during Robert's Rebellion:

"At the dawn of Robert's Rebellion. The Mad King had sent to the Eyrie for Stark's head, but Jon Arryn sent him back defiance. Gulltown stayed loyal to the throne, though. To get home and call his banners, Stark had to cross the mountains to the Fingers and find a fisherman to carry him across the Bite. A storm caught them on the way. The fisherman drowned, but his daughter got Stark to the Sisters before the boat went down. They say he left her with a bag of silver and a bastard in her belly. Jon Snow, she named him, after Arryn.

"Be that as it may. My father sat where I sit now when Lord Eddard came to Sisterton. Our maester urged us to send Stark's head to Aerys, to prove our loyalty. It would have meant a rich reward. The Mad King was open-handed with them as pleased him. By then we knew that Jon Arryn had taken Gulltown, though. Robert was the first man to gain the wall, and slew Marq Grafton with his own hand. 'This Baratheon is fearless,' I said. 'He fights the way a king should fight.' Our maester chuckled at me and told us that Prince Rhaegar was certain to defeat this rebel. That was when Stark said, 'In this world only winter is certain. We may lose our heads, it's true…but what if we prevail?' My father sent him on his way with his head still on his shoulders. 'If you lose,' he told Lord Eddard, 'you were never here.' " – ADWD, Davos I

This passage has one of my favourite asoiaf quotes of all time..."In this world only winter is certain. We may lose our heads, it's true...but what if we prevail?" Truly iconic. So defiantly hopeful.

But, yes, you're right that this story, and the Sunderlands, connects us to Ned, but more importantly...to Jon Snow. Really, Jon has quite a few Vale connections, all things considered, and he is named after Jon Arryn after all!

Uther Shett

Well, along with his buddy Ossifer Lipps (ass for lips), Uther Shett (utter shit) is an example of George having some pretty lowbrow fun with punny names. During their dance, Uther paid Alayne "slimy compliments as he trod upon her feet"...so not the best partner!

But from one shit to another...I think you're probably right that Uther Shett is meant to recall Chett, indeed, if we take a look at his description in Winds:

The one on her left was no more than eighteen, and skinny as a spear. His ginger-colored whiskers only partially served to disguise the angry red pimples that dotted his face.

His bad skin is somewhat comparable to Chett's boils:

Chett had a wen on his neck the size of a pigeon's egg, and a face red with boils and pimples. Perhaps that was why he always seemed so angry. – AGOT, Jon V

What is also noteworthy about Chett's prologue pov in ASOS, is that we get this linking of literal snow and Jon Snow:

Snow was falling.

He could feel tears freezing to his cheeks. It isn't fair, he wanted to scream. Snow would ruin everything he'd worked for, all his careful plans. It was a heavy fall, thick white flakes coming down all about him [...] The snow's taken it all from me...the bloody snow...

Snow had ruined him once before. Snow and his pet pig. – ASOS, Prologue

This makes any mention of snow beyond this point a bit more noteworthy, especially since Jon is referred to as "the Snow of Winterfell," (ASOS, Jon I), and we also have Sansa's famous "drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover's kisses" whilst building Winterfell out of snow scene, also in ASOS, (Sansa VII). So, Chett is very important when it comes to establishing this connection.

Ser Targon the Halfwild

Targon is only mentioned once and it is in that list of dance partners. He's not connected to any particular house, all we know of him is that he is a knight and that he "proved to be the soul of courtesy." This detail is interesting because it sort goes against his "Halfwild" moniker — he is courteous in spite of his half-wildness. Likewise, Jon is also courteous, chivalrous and knightly even, in spite of the stigma attached to being a bastard:

They still think me a turncloak. That was a bitter draft to drink, but Jon could not blame them. He was a bastard, after all. Everyone knew that bastards were wanton and treacherous by nature, having been born of lust and deceit. And he had made as many enemies as friends at Castle Black...Rast, for one. Jon had once threatened to have Ghost rip his throat out unless he stopped tormenting Samwell Tarly, and Rast did not forget things like that. – ASOS, Jon VII

As mentioned in comparison to Ser Byron, Jon behaves courteously towards Gilly, calling her name "pretty", just as Sansa taught him. He also often refers to Val as "my lady" despite her being a proud woman of the Free Folk. Jon also clearly looks up to and wishes to emulate legendary knights to a certain extent, and behaving with courtesy and honour is very much part of that:

They were not little boys when they fought, but knights and mighty heroes. "I'm Prince Aemon the Dragonknight," Jon would call out, and Robb would shout back, "Well, I'm Florian the Fool." Or Robb would say, "I'm the Young Dragon," and Jon would reply, "I'm Ser Ryam Redwyne." – ASOS, Jon XII

Furthermore, Jon has this connection to the Free Folk, also known as the wildlings, having spent a fair amount of time with them:

"The wildling blood is the blood of the First Men, the same blood that flows in the veins of the Starks [...]" – ASOS, Jon I

"Some of your own Sworn Brothers would have me believe that you are half a wildling yourself. Is it true?" – ADWD, Jon IV

Mully cleared his throat. "M'lord? The wildling princess, letting her go, the men may say—"

"—that I am half a wildling myself, a turncloak who means to sell the realm to our raiders, cannibals, and giants." Jon did not need to stare into a fire to know what was being said of him. The worst part was, they were not wrong, not wholly. "Words are wind, and the wind is always blowing at the Wall. Come." – ADWD, Jon VIII

"A wildling. A filthy, murdering wildling." Cregan's hands closed into fists. The gloves that covered them were leather, lined with fur to match the cloak that hung matted and stiff from his broad shoulders. His black wool surcoat was emblazoned with the white sunburst of his house. "I see what you are, Snow. Half a wolf and half a wildling, baseborn get of a traitor and a whore. You would deliver a highborn maid to the bed of some stinking savage. Did you sample her yourself first?" He laughed. "If you mean to kill me, do it and be damned for a kinslayer. Stark and Karstark are one blood."

"My name is Snow." – ADWD, Jon X

I am not the trusting fool you take me for...nor am I half wildling, no matter what you believe. – ADWD, Jon XI

If Stark blood is also essentially wildling blood, and Jon is half Stark on his mother's side...that would make him "Halfwild" in blood as well as in spirit. And like you said, Targon feels very close to Targaryen/Targ-Jon. So this name is there solely as a hint towards Jon's true parentage — half Targaryen and half Stark. But I think you could argue that the "Halfwild" element could allude to Jon's post-resurrection state as well. I do personally like the idea of Feral Jon™.

Ser Roland & Ser Wallace Waynwood

Like the Royces, and Dolorous Edd, the Waynwoods also bear some notable Stark physical traits, as noted by Myranda in this chapter:

“The first Lady Waynwood must have been a mare, I think. How else to explain why all the Waynwood men are horse-faced? [...]"

As we know, looking horse-faced, or in Edd's case, mule-faced, indicates a rather long visage:

Arya took after their lord father. Her hair was a lusterless brown, and her face was long and solemn. Jeyne used to call her Arya Horseface, and neigh whenever she came near. – AGOT, Arya I

[Arya] even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring. – AGOT, Sansa I

Interestingly though, Jon is never referred to as being called horse-faced, although we know he has a long Stark face. You'd think that Chett, in the ASOS Prologue would have made that kind of dig, since he says as much about Dolorous Edd? This is why I tentatively believe that, although long-faced, Jon isn't as apparently "homely" as these Stark looking Waynwood brothers:

Ser Roland was the oldest of the three, though no more than five-and-twenty. He was taller and more muscular than Ser Wallace, but both were long-faced and lantern-jawed, with stringy brown hair and pinched noses. Horsefaced and homely, Alayne thought.

That being said, I don't think he's as "handsome" as Ser Waymar Royce, or "beautiful" like Ser Byron. But obviously, he's got something going for him because as GRRM says "all the girls love" him, and you know, he's got a good bod probably and if the Giant's Lance cake is anything to go by, as well as all Tormund's small penis jokes...um, well, maybe he's packing, I don't know! (Don't look at me like that guys...it's GRRM not me!)

But anyway! Like you said, Ser Wallace Waynwood is even of an age with Robb, and therefore also Jon:

Robb would be his age, if he were still alive, she could not help but think, but Robb died a king, and this is just a boy.

There is also a teeny bit of Stark blood, though obviously potent stuff, in the mix with those Waynwoods:

"No," Catelyn agreed. "You must name another heir, until such time as Jeyne gives you a son." She considered a moment. "Your father's father had no siblings, but his father had a sister who married a younger son of Lord Raymar Royce, of the junior branch. They had three daughters, all of whom wed Vale lordlings. A Waynwood and a Corbray, for certain. The youngest...it might have been a Templeton, but..."

"Mother." There was a sharpness in Robb's tone. "You forget. My father had four sons." – ASOS, Catelyn V

Shit — "all of whom wed Vale lordlings" — that's probably where all these Stark looking mother fudgers are coming from. So, all in all, I think there's some strong parallels.

And finally...Ser Harrold Hardyng

But let's not forget this bitch.

And there he stood, Harry the Heir himself; tall, handsome, scowling. “Lady Alayne. May I partner you in this dance?”

She considered for a moment. “No. I don’t think so.”

Prior to Harry, who notably fits into the Ashford pattern of Sansa's suitors, we have all these Jon stand-ins, or references to Jon. We can actually separate them out into their different functions, though there is some overlap with Andrew Tollett:

Those who reference Jon's Starkness/the Stark Look™:

Andrew Tollett

Albar Royce

Roland Waynwood

Wallace Waynwood

Those who reference his position/location at the Night's Watch:

Because in the Alayne chapter prior to this one, Sansa learns that Jon has been made Lord Commander:

[..] Oh, and the Night’s Watch has a boy commander, some bastard son of Eddard Stark’s.” “Jon Snow?” she blurted out, surprised. “Snow? Yes, it would be Snow, I suppose.” – AFFC, Alayne II

So, it is interesting that you then have a number of dance partners connected to members of the Watch:

Ben Coldwater

Andrew Tollett

Morgarth the Merry

Uther Shett

This could be read as foreshadowing for Sansa's future journey north, and specifically to the Wall, where she believes Jon to be.

Those who reference his true/uncertain parentage:

Byron the Beautiful

Shadrich the Mad Mouse

The Three Sunderlands

Targon the Halfwild

All these guys get a dance, but when Harry asks? He is denied. It is only after some A+ dragging by Alayne, and begging by Harry that the latter gets his dance. Yet don't be fooled into thinking this is a win for Harrold:

"Should we ever wed, you'll have to send Saffron back to her father. I’ll be all the spice you’ll want."

He grinned. "I will hold you to that promise, my lady. Until that day, may I wear your favor in the tourney?"

"You may not. It is promised to… another." She was not sure who as yet, but she knew she would find someone.

First off, we have this reminder of the betrothal, but there is a lack of certainty there — "should we wed" — and I would argue that's because...they ain't gonna. Remember all that wedding breakfast imagery, including an umcomfortably phallic lemon (wedding) cake, gift-giving and nod to a bridal cloak? Remember how that was followed by several dances with Jon stand-ins?

"[...] It is promised to… another."

Oh, I wonder who that could be? Honestly...GRRM has very clearly, for those who care to really look, stated someone else's claim here, and it ain't Harry's. In fact, it is the very same person who also evokes Valarr Targaryen in the Ashford pattern.

...it's our boi, Jon Snow.

“Jon Snow?” she blurted out, surprised.

“Snow? Yes, it would be Snow, I suppose.” – AFFC, Alayne II

You "suppose", Myranda? Honey, I'm certain.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #cappy's thoughts #Alayne I Winds #i'm actually so chuffed with myself on the morgarth = more garth #thanks for this ask!#jonsa supremacy honestly

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like-a-bag-of-potatoes · 3 years ago

Text

Our Story - Prologue

theA/N: My first Chris Evans series. This is just a fluffy little series that has been floating around in my brain for a while, and because I've recently fallen head first into the Chris trashcan, I figured he’d be the perfect person for this little love story AU. I mean absolutely no disrespect with this, it's just a work of fiction. I also want to give a huge thank you to @percywinchester27 and @girl-next-door-writes for being my betas for this story. You are both amazing and I'm so grateful for your help on this.

Chapter: One

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader (unfortunately no Chris in this part)

Warnings: Absolutely none.

Wordcount: 1850

Four weeks after my twentieth birthday, I left my childhood home in Savannah, Georgia, and pointed my nose towards New York. It was hard to believe that eight years had passed already, but my twenty-eighth birthday approached in large strides to remind me of how much time had passed, and how much had changed. New York City was a stark contrast to Savannah, the city that never sleeps VS the most charming city in America. When I first moved here, it was my intention to stay for only a year, then I would be back in Savannah with my family and the man that I loved so deeply, Josh.

However, life never really turns out how you intend it to, no matter how much you plan for your future. Josh and I used to talk at length about our future together, and I honestly couldn't wait to get started on it all, house, careers, and then a family of our own at some point. Then, after eight or so months of long-distance we finally broke and admitted to ourselves that it was just too hard. I know you might think that since we had stuck it out for that long, we surely could manage a few more months, but by then I had been asked to stay on in what was supposed to be a temporary position, and I had fallen in love, not only with the city, but with my work. I asked Josh to come to me, told him we could find ourselves a little apartment in Queens, or the East Village, something we could afford, and we could spend a few years together here before moving back home to start a family. I guess you’ve already figured it didn't turn out that way, and it ended, as long-distance relationships often do, in heartbreak. It was my first real heartbreak- amicable, civil, and soul-crushing. It was also then I realized, as we all, unfortunately, do at some point in our lives, that love does not, in fact, conquer all.

If I'm being completely honest, I knew within my first month in this magical city that I would never want to leave, and after things ended with Josh, I felt as though I had deceived him in some cruel, unintentional way. Every conversation we had, had after that had been filled with lies and promises I never intended to keep. I had fooled myself as much as I had fooled him. After our break up, although completely heartbroken, I felt free and unburdened, which strangely made me feel even worse about the whole thing. Our love didn't end in some big blowout argument, or because we didn't want to be with one another. It ended because of the thousands of miles that separated us, and because in the months we spent apart, I changed in a way that could not have been foreseen. Never did I imagine myself in a big and busy city, but as I said, New York and me, it was love at first sight.

You might be wondering what job took me from my safe and comfortable life in Georgia, thinking that it must have been some grand, once in a lifetime thing. It was not. It was a temporary job as a personal assistant. I found it as I sat by my computer one night, daydreaming about what kind of life I would live if I had all the money in the world, what life Josh and I could create for ourselves. That's when I came across the ad. A woman, Mrs. Wallace, needed an assistant. She was a very wealthy woman in need of someone to keep track of her very busy social calendar, amongst other things. I knew she was wealthy because she lived on Fifth Avenue, not that I had ever been to New York and really knew what that entailed, but I had seen movies and read books placed in the city and knew very well that Fifth Avenue was a very expensive street. There was little to no description of the job or what Mrs. Wallace was looking for in an assistant, other than that they had to be organized and were able to juggle multiple things at once. Beyond that it really came down to compatibility. I was nothing if not organized, so before I knew it, I had compiled an application letter and sent to her email. I told no one about this, because it was ridiculous for me to think I'd even get a reply back. In all honesty, it had all been forgotten by the next morning, and I didn't think of it again until three days later when, at dinner with Josh I might add, I got an answer. She would like for us to meet. We sent a couple of emails back and forth where I tried to, as politely as possible, explain that I did not have the means to travel to New York just for an interview. I stated that I appreciated her interest, and apologized profusely for not being able to make it out there. It was then she asked for my details, and about fifteen minutes later I got a confirmation from American Airlines that my ticket had been booked and paid for. Two days later I was sitting opposite Mrs. Wallace at a restaurant that I would never be able to afford, listening to her talk about the job I had applied for and what she expected of me.

The very first thing that struck me about Mrs. Wallace was her age. For some reason, I had imagined someone in their fifties, full of botox, fillers, and whatever else middle-aged women put into their faces to look younger, but Mrs. Wallace was not that much older than me. At the time we met, she was twenty-seven, so younger than I am now, and strikingly beautiful. Thick, black hair that looked professionally blow-dried and sculpted so that not a single strand was out of place. It draped over her shoulders in loose Hollywood style waves and stood in sharp contrast to the white blazer she wore. Her skin was olive, her eyes deep brown, and her cheekbones could probably cut glass. When you put that together with her long, model-like legs, an hourglass waistline, and a very ample bosom, the woman looked like a greek goddess. To top it all off she had a warm and kind smile, and a kick-ass sense of humor. Kate, as she insisted I call her, was far from the stuck up, nose in the sky, botox filled woman that I had imagined in my head. We hit it off, and before dessert was served, I had a job offer.

It's hard to explain, but I felt as though I needed to take this opportunity, that this was an experience I was meant to have in some inexplicable way, and I accepted right then and there without a second thought, or even a conversation with my family or boyfriend. Josh was angry with me at first, but supportive, so two weeks later I stood in front of 1040 Fifth Avenue and looked up at the towering building with its limestone and intricate carvings here and there. Kate greeted me at the front door as I stepped out of the car that she had sent to pick me up from the airport. This place even had a porte-cochere to protect the residents from rain as they walked from the door to their private chauffeur-driven vehicles. I would be staying here with the Wallace family, in the staff quarters with the rest of the staff of course, so that I could be available to Kate at all times. And that's how my New York adventure started.

Eight years later, I am still working for Kate, still living in my little room in the staff quarters, but I love it. I have a little bathroom and everything I need. Food is prepared for us all by the cook, Rosalia. She is a little, plump woman in her mid-fifties, kind and compassionate, not to mention deeply passionate about the food she prepared for the whole household. Along with me and Rosalia, the other staff in our quarters are Magdalena, the housekeeper, and Mitch, who is Mr Wallace’s assistant. There was more staff, of course, like the private chauffeur’s, who didn't live on-site and throughout any given day, people would be in and out of the place like it was a busy office space as opposed to the home that it actually is.

Now, Mr Wallace was a very busy man, working non-stop whether it be at his office, or at his home office. It seemed as whenever I saw him, he was walking in fast strides, either on the phone, or confirming things with Mitch who half sprinted behind him with his I-pad, trying not to trip over anything as he tried to keep up and take down notes at the same time. Henry, that was Mr Wallace’s first name, was a little older than Kate, not so much that you could accuse her of being a gold digger, but he was approaching his fifties now. He didn't look it though, he was a very handsome man, and kind. Imagine George Clooney, a man that just seems to get more gorgeous with every passing year. Kate and Henry were busy, always had their hands full with whatever it was, but somehow they always found time to share a meal together every day. Even if it meant having Rosalia heat up some leftovers for them at midnight. They were very much in love, and it was clear in the way they looked at one another, and how they always made sure to have that little moment to themselves every day. A couple of years ago, Kate had confided in me that she could not have children of her own, it was something that had weighed on her since she was only sixteen years old, but with Henry, she said, ‘I have all I need with that man, all the love I could ever wish for.’ It was a shame really, because I knew that Kate would have made an amazing mother, and Henry a great dad. ‘I'm alright,’ she had assured me. ‘I've come to peace with it, and learned not to dwell on something that will never be.’

So, that's the short version of how I ended up here, doing a job I adored in a city I loved with all my heart, so I think it's about time we move forward. Jump to the part where my real story starts. Spoiler alert; it involves a warm summer day in Central Park, a ruined dress, and an extremely handsome man named Chris.

******

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#Chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans series #chris evans au #OS #chris evans fluff

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