carolina past

Shot Down

Sebastian Aho x Reader

Team: Carolina Hurricanes

Warnings: Technically unwanted flirting, non-interactive 

POV: Second

Heyo! I see a lot of sepe here so I figured you should be the one I request this from xD Could you write about dating Sepe and one night another player, maybe McDavid, tries to hit on you and he gets defensive??

(Hi!! Sorry, I didn’t go with Dado because the direction I took this in did not seem like Connor at all, so I changed it to Tyler Seguin! Hope that’s okay.)

Originally posted by wonthetrade

You stood silently a couple yards outside of the door, waiting for your boyfriend to return. Jorge Alves passed you, giving you a smile as he fumbled with the equipment in his arms. 

“Are they still talking?” You asked, pointing to the dressing room that was down the hall. 

Jorge nodded, “They sound like they’re wrapping up, don’t worry.” He gave you another smile and a nod and proceeded to enter the room where the team was just taking their sweet time getting dressed. 

You didn’t mind though, the boys had a nice 4-2 victory over the Dallas Stars and pushed their home-game win streak further. 

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anonymous asked:

Will there be more of the parallel universe one where Claire is pregnant?

Note from WTT: So this isn’t a continuation of the parallel universe fic, I’m not sure when I’ll get to that one so please enjoy this different parallel universe fic!

“…and that’s how this particular set of mountains got their names, at least if you believe the story of an old woman passed down from the generations.” The old woman smiled, the creases of her skin wrinkling in happiness.

“Thank you! You’ve been such a help to us. Do you know of anywhere where the artifacts you mention might be? I’d love to be able to provide a sketch for my books,” Uncle Lamb asked, intriguing the old woman again. Their talk was animated and I wandered about the room, the odd carvings and paintings leading to knick-knacks and heirlooms. It’s a wonder that these things were made, let alone still existed in the twentieth century.

A shine caught my eye as I paced by the small, but ornate hearth. Tucked behind a carving of the Virgin Mary was something metallic. Groping behind the statue, I could just feel the object with my fingertips.

“Aha!” I gasped in triumph when the object was secured in my fist. “A knife?”

The small knife had a shiny, well worn handle with the perfect finger holds, it felt warm and fit perfectly in my hand. I turned it over inspecting the craftsmanship. The silver was finely polished but there were nicks and scratches all along the edge proving that this had been used, and maybe not just for household needs. If there was a design on the handle it had long since been rubbed into smoothness. The only flaw was closer to the blade where a small chunk of wood was missing, exposing the metal beneath.

“So ye found my ancestors wee knife, hmm?”

I jumped and let out a squeal the knife flying from my hand and landing tip first into the wood near my foot.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to pry, I just—well it was that the blade—I—”

The old woman held up her hand shook her head. “Och, dinna fash yerself one bit. This blade is tough and old. I doubt you could do any harm to it. The way you were holding it showed more that you’d be the one to get hurt. Never point the blade at yourself. You nearly took out a toe when you dropped it.”

To emphasize her point, the old woman stooped down and pulled the blade from the floor, giving her left big toe a thump with the flat part of the blade.

“This knife has been in my family for generations. The story is said that it was owned by a witch and she used it to make her brews here in this very cabin. But that’s just to scare off the locals children. The truth of the blade is that it was owned by a healer who lived on this mountain, nearly two hundred years ago. She helped raise my great-great-great grandmother as well as her own family. My great-great grandfather always had it on the mantle. I never understood why as a child that my great grandparents and grandparents continued to do so. ‘It brings luck!’ Uncle Thomas would say, or ‘It’s magic and it’ll keep folk from messing with us!’ my Grandda Beardsley would murmur before doing the sign of the cross.” The woman twirled the knife between her fingers until the underneath was shown. Scratches that weren’t scratches at all shone in the firelight.

“T C L J?” I murmured, “What does TCLJ mean?”

The woman shrugged. “No one knows. I assume it’s the initials of the crafter, but I can’t be certain. Anyone who would know is already dead.”

I reached out and gently stroked the initials. “Maybe it’s To someone Love someone else?”

“Hmm… Perhaps. Here.” The woman handed me the knife. “You keep it. It may come in handy where you and your Uncle are headed.”

“No! I couldn’t possibly! It’s a family heirloom. You should pass it on to your children, I don’t deserve it,” I protested, trying to hand back the knife.

“I won’t hear of it. My children are grown and my grandchildren uninterested in a bit o’ family magic. You, though, would appreciate it and use it as it’s meant. It’s not meant to be tucked away, but used!”

“Thank you. I’ll take care of it,” I promised, as I gingerly held the knife closer to me.

“Just remember things always have a way of making themselves back to their rightful owners. And I think you were meant to have this knife. Do you have any roots at all leading to North Carolina or the States?”

I shook my head, still transfixed by the initials on the handle. “No ma’am. Not that I know of. Uncle Lamb might know.”

“Claire?” Peeling my eyes away from the knife I looked at Uncle Lamb, who looked like a kid in a candy store. “Come. We need to get going if we want to make it up the mountain and back before dark.”

Following obediently, I said one last thank you to the old woman and pocketed the knife.

anonymous asked:

I kinda hope people catch on the Carolina story and Harry and his team get in trouble for it. They're tryna play games and make the fandom believe shit but we're smarter than them we caught on about her age and they fucked up.. but they keep constantly mentioning her age tho maybe they want Harry to be thought of as fucking a young fan and he's a "rocker who sleeps around".

RS changed it to 20 so team probs thought young fan storyline was too yikes. Too little too late man… 

You’ve Forgotten Something

Teuvo Teravainen x Reader

Team: Carolina Hurricanes

Warnings: Implied sexual themes

POV: First Person/Reader’s

Summary: Reader and Teuvo chill out before the morning skate

NOTE: I made this in a way that I hope @ministromer would enjoy lmao ily

Originally posted by blackhawkshawkey

It was a lazy morning, just before the morning skate for tonight’s game. I was currently curled up with Teuvo. We had both gotten up and ready for the day and then immediately crawled back into bed. Could you blame us? 

“What time do you have to leave?” I asked looking up at him, patting him to get his attention. 

He looked at the bedside table and checked the time. “An hour maybe,” He slightly shrugged. “I have to drive back to my place to grab Sepe.”

“Right,” I giggled. “The two Finns are inseparable.” 

“It’s just nice to have him on the team,” Teuvo said nonchalantly. “Another young, Finnish player.”

“I bet if we weren’t dating, you’d be all over him.” I laughed, kissing his jaw. 

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Confession: I am sitting here laughing so hard at my own fucking nonsense that I am gonna have to compose myself before writing a rambly artist note.

Will you even look at this.

Okay, so: This was a gag gift, you know it was a gag gift, obviously a very well-thought out one that took some planning, but the person who gave it was apparently unaware that while you can take the man out of Iowa, you cannot take the Iowa out of the man.  Even if you manage to surgically excise every trace of Midwest, you’d STILL have someone who used to wear a purple miniskirt to work.

Last statement here is that if you’re new enough to Hawkeye that you don’t recognise the GOSH I LOVE ARROWS thing, I am going to give you the pleasure of Googe-Image-Searching it yourself.  Enjoy!  You’ve picked the right Avenger to love, you really have.

If I didn’t get a tattoo of something cryptozoology related, I’d probably get a red vs blue tattoo. Red vs blue has been such a huge part of my life. I’ve met so many friends because of it, even my best friend. I got to meet Monty, Burnie, Gus, Geoff, Michael, Ray, Jack, Barbara and Gavin. They got me through middle school, high school and college. I used to be able to quote most of the seasons by heart. I’m sure I still could.

Maybe I’d go cheesy and get a “Memory is the key”. Or maybe I’d get something that connects with my favorite characters.

Delta’s “It’s just part of what makes us human, Tex.” Or York’s “We’re the good guys, right?” Or Carolina’s “The past doesn’t define who you are, it just gives you the starting point of who you’re going to be.”

I always felt so connected to the Freelancers, York was my favorite since I saw Out of Mind when I started watching RvB 8 or 9 years ago. I was so happy when we got that Freelancer story arch.

Red vs Blue Fic: Thicker Than Water

Summary: There are a hundred words for “sister.” Wash has forgotten all of them, and Epsilon remembers too many.

Parings: None.

Warnings: Canon-typical language, canon character death.

Notes: Also available on AO3

I never had any particular attachment to the “Carolina and Wash are siblings” idea…until @a-taller-tale dropped a headcanon that slayed me, and then this fic happened.

Agent Washington


Wheedling always used to work on her.

“C'mon, Sis, pleeease?” he begs. The kitten squirms in his arms, trying to escape, but its purr is a steady vibration against his ribs.

“No,” she says. “We can’t keep it, David. You know what Dad would say.”

“He wouldn’t notice,” David mutters, looking at the locked door of their father’s study. 

He hasn’t noticed anything, since they got the news about Mom.

“I’ll call the shelter,” she says, her voice brisk and grown-up, the same way she says here’s your dinner when she shoves another plate of baked beans and sliced hot dogs in front of him. David knows it’s hopeless, and he wants to be grown-up, wants to be the little brother she’d be proud of, but he can’t stop the tears from stinging at his eyes.


The visor of her helmet gleams golden. “You can’t slip up, David,” she warns him. “Anyone here finds out you’re my brother, and you’re out.”

“You got it, boss,” he says, and grins at her through his HUD. “And call me Wash.”

It’s not hard. That’s the one thing she doesn’t get. Burying the person he used to be, that’s not hard at all.

David’s the screw-up younger brother who cried when he didn’t get a cat, who nearly blinded Cecil Kyle, who watched his older sister walk away into the ranks of the UNSC and leave him alone. Who tried to follow her and ended up facing a court-martial.

Wash is the rookie agent who made it onto the leaderboard inside of a month. Wash is the one who deserves to be on Agent Carolina’s team, who gets to back her up on missions and take her orders the same as anyone. Who gets teased by York and protected by Maine and actually belongs.

He’s never happier than when he calls her “boss.”


Epsilon happens.

Afterward—when he’s recovered enough to realize there is an afterward—he sits in his bed. Listens to the doctors and nurses walking back and forth. Feels his single, separate heartbeat. Flexes his fingers one by one.

There are too many memories jammed into his head now, and they aren’t all his. That’s not the problem. Wash remembers being Leonard Church, but he knows that isn’t true.

The problem is that Epsilon didn’t just dump data and leave; he read, copied, overwrote. And now Wash doesn’t have a single memory left that isn’t altered. When he tries to remember his own childhood, his fucked-up mind can’t help twisting it into memories of being Leonard Church’s son. Of a red-haired older sister heating up a can of baked beans, and the bugles at his mother’s funeral, and it’s not real, it’s not. 

His name was never David Church.

(If Carolina was his sister, she never would have left him here.)

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I feel like I should specify something.

When I say “I’m not interested” in the Freelancers, I’m not saying that no one should be interested in the Freelancers. The Freelancer fans are all perfectly entitled to liking Freelancers and I hope they have fun like everyone else. It’s just a personal opinion on my own preferences. I think their story is over and done with, and thus I’m not super interested in it.

In line with this thought, this is why I’m not in favor of new Freelancer content. I see their story as over, they’ve been dead for seasons, and while I do think bringing them up once in awhile is realistic since they’re such a major facet of Carolina and Wash’s past, I don’t really want any of them to come back except Niner. Their story is resolved in my brain.

That being said, if we do get new Freelancer content, awesome for the folks who adore them. I just won’t be on the hype train.

Ok so. I went to Carolina Rebellion this past weekend and it was AMAZING. I love festivals so much. Honestly the sense of camaraderie that I feel with fellow music fans at these events makes me feel so much less alone in the world… I mean that to sound uplifting, not depressing.

Anyway, read more if you want to know about the bands and I saw and things I did.

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So the other day I drew a punk!Wyoming and a pastel!Florida and I sorta accidently created a flyoming greaser au.

Basically greaser!Wyoming falls in love with Butch Flowers, a pretty boy who runs a flower shop. Unfortunately, York, technical leader of the infamous Freelancer gang, forbids him from seeing Flowers because he believes that their relationship will jeopardize the reputation of the group.

Carolina, the real leader of the group and York’s girlfriend, cares deeply about Wyoming and wants him to be happy (he was a family friend and helped the young Carolina move past Allison’s death). However, she sides with York, only because she fears a bad reputation will cause a dangerous enemy gang (Charon, so like the Innies and Mercenaries) to move onto their streets and endanger their friends.

Meanwhile, her older half-brother Church works at the flower shop Butch owns. He believes gangs are dangerous and greatly disapproves of Carolina running one, only because she is the most important person to him and he doesn’t want her to get hurt. He warns Flowers to steer clear of them, but Flowers ultimately falls deeply in love with Wyoming.

There’s a few other side plots, like York’s strained relationship with his father (Mayor Malcom Hargrove), the Allison backstory, flowershop antics starring the Blues, ect. It’s really sorta grown so large so quickly, but I’m actually super excited about it.

I’m just wondering, would anybody be intrested in reading that sort of thing?


this just in: sharkalina has passed from passive shipping lane to active shipping lane

in the past month, i’ve met about 5 harry potter fans and when we got into deep discussion of the books not one of them failed to say something between the lines like “did you like that ginny ended up with harry? it didn’t make sense.” i’m just tired guys……. 

A word from my wise friend regarding the historic destruction in the Carolinas:

“Ok here’s a little rant from my history heart: If we ban the confederate flag and get rid of historical Confederate monuments because they represent a oppressive society and slavery then you need to get behind the ideal of tearing down the Egyptian pyramids, Great Wall of China, and anything important built in England before 1800 because they were all built by slaves and represent the oppressive societies that flourished under slavery.

But that’s ridiculous. You shouldn’t get rid of history because it’s messy or wrong. You learn from the past and apply what you learn to the present so that when generations from now look back and study OUR history, they learn that our society evolved from the one before it. This post is not in favor of removing or maintaining the Confederate flag but rather advocating for the protection and preservation of Confederate statues, memorials, sites, etc. that are of historic importance. If you get rid of the physical proof that history happened then people actually start to believe it didn’t happen. For example, people still think that the Holocaust didn’t happen because there wasn’t enough bodies to represent the 6 million Jews who died…”

The solution is not to wipe away the past and act like nothing happened. Respect those who suffered by acknowledging the cruelty lavished upon them instead of pretending like modern society, built upon the civilizations of old, is spotless.