#i use these strategies to talk with her and my nephew and it helps a lot!!!!!!

[songofsunset]

Tips for talking to someone with hearing loss

(this is what helps when people are talking to me, and when I'm talking to my relatives)

Make sure they can see your mouth. Lip-reading helps with clarity, and facing them while you talk also helps a lot with volume. People are really bad about getting your attention, starting to say something, then turning away mid sentence. Stay facing them the whole time!!! (People are the worst about this while we are shopping together!)

Be comfortable with repeating yourself. Either they will ask you to repeat yourself, or you will realize they misheard you. Both of these are fine- just repeat yourself clearly and make sure they can see your face while you do. "Never mind" makes me sad :(

If someone misheard you: try rewording your sentence! Maybe certain sounds are harder for them to hear than other sounds. Instead of "grab that shampoo!" three times at increasing volume, try "grab that blue bottle, the one next to the conditioner" or "I like that dandruff shampoo up there, can you put it in the cart?" There are a lot of ways to rephrase things that will give the person you're talking to more chances to understand, and it feels much less patronizing for everyone. And make sure you're facing them so they can see your mouth!!!

If someone misheard you: try a Yes, And approach. If your grandma didn't understand your question and starts telling you an unrelated story, enjoy it! When she is finished, thank her, and then try asking your question again with more clarity, or worded differently. "No, that's not what I said" is much less enjoyable for everyone involved.

Enjoy your conversation! Not everything needs to be understood perfectly. The important thing is that you are spending time together and talking to each other. Each conversation is a journey and you will get there in the end!!!

[thenightfolknetwork]

I’ve been with my fiancé for over 8 years now. We’ve been friends for even longer and just last summer we had been planning our wedding ceremony. Now, his family hadn’t been the best supportively, not when he came out as gay, and especially not when he, a Sapio, started dating me, a giant. They then effectively disowned him after we announced our engagement. I think they might have had some weird hope he’d ’change his mind’ or that it was a ‘phase’. This was about 3 years ago now, and I can’t speak for my partner, but he admitted though it hurt, he was relieved to be away from them after all the abuse.

Anyway, the reason for this letter is about 7 months ago we had gotten word that his family had been in a serious accident and that his parents, sister and her husband had passed away and he was listed as next-of-kin and subsequently guardian for his 4 year old nephew.

Now, we never really talked about kids beyond some vague idea. But my partner wasn’t going to turn away the kid, nor did I expect him to. So, after the funeral service and sorting with social services, we brought his nephew home.

It has been an adjustment for all of us, getting used to having a kid around and him being in a new environment that’s more geared for my size honestly. and we’ve been trying to find a good child psychologist for him. but the main problem is… well, he’s afraid of me.

I can’t really blame him for that, after everything he went through, but it still hurts sometimes when he flinches when I enter a room or speak to him. Or how he looks ready to cry when I open my mouth. Even trying to hide when he sees me just reading a book. I’ve grown up in a mixed community, but the way the kid looks at me, for the first time in a very long time, I feel like a monster.

My partner has told me once when we were in bed that his ‘family’ had been filling the kid’s head with anti-nightfolk ideologies and even some rather… well, blood-libel comments. I think he was trying to comfort me as he noticed the way the kid had been a lot more skittish with me than with him. He has been trying to explain that a lot of the stuff his folks talked about was lies and really bad stuff, but it’s hard unlearning these sort of things. I had suggested we postpone the wedding, at least till things settle.

I have been trying to seem less ‘intimidating’, not smiling with my fangs and trying to look smaller than I really am. But I’m worried he might never not be afraid of me. And I never told my partner, but I’m afraid that he will be forced to pick between me and the kid, and I don’t want him to do that as I know either option will hurt him.

So I’m asking. Is there anything I can do to try and help seem less… monstrous to my nephew?

I'm afraid there are no quick fixes here, reader. Your nephew has been exposed to some seriously toxic ideologies from a very early age. That isn't the sort of thing you can fix over night.

I would caution against trying too hard to diminish yourself or your creaturely traits as part of this process. You want your nephew to be comfortable with you, not with a nervous caricature of yourself.

Instead, I encourage you to behave at home as normally as you can, being as friendly as he'll allow you to be and respecting his boundaries when he expresses them.

If you haven't already, talk to your partner about what your strategies are going to be to improve the situation. This is a long-term project that needs complete buy-in from both of you to succeed.

As much as possible, your partner should be exposing your nephew to the idea of difference, teaching him that it's OK to notice that other people are different than him, but that he still needs to treat them with kindness and respect.

There are so many more resources available today to help children learn about these matters, from books and films to websites dedicated to help you discuss these issues in an age-appropriate way.

Books like Paws, Claws and More, What's for Lunch? and My Daddy's A Mummy are a great way to start these conversations and to help introduce your nephew to these ideas in a way that is accessible for him. Talk to your local librarian for more recommendations.

The best way for him to learn to trust you is through spending time with you, drowning out the hateful ideas he's been taught through real, lived experience of being safe and happy in the company of people in the community. Make sure to set time aside for all three of you to spend time together, doing activities your nephew will enjoy.

Of course, his exposure to the creature community shouldn't start and end with you. If you can, consider getting him involved in mixed genus groups where he can meet liminal children his own age. It might be a bit of an adjustment for him, but it will a huge boon to him in the long run.

Finally, please consider seeking out some additional support for yourself during this process. This is a difficult, highly emotional situation, and you need to find people who you can talk to about it beyond your partner, whether that's to talk through possible solutions or just to vent occasionally.

Fortunately, reader, if there's one thing children are built for, it's learning. It will take time and emotional commitment, but with a little effort, I think you and your partner will be able to teach your nephew a kinder way of looking at the world.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[firesnap]

There's this tiktok that gives me very conflicting feelings about teaching. It's this 5th grade teacher who is talking with a parent about how they're struggling to get the parent's daughter to focus and turn in "redo" assignments. Parent asks some legitimate questions of "how does she know it needs to be redone? how does she know deadlines" and so on. They talk and then the parent goes "Well, 4th grade teacher figured out that sometimes a very small incentive like a Starburst or something would help her know when she's actually finished an assignment. Like she knows no more work needs to be done when she's gotten that sort of indicator and she's pretty sweet motivated."

And the teacher is appalled. "I do not give out food for assignments." And the parent, even through the lens of omg ridiculous "Karen" mom flat out is like "I'm just trying to work with you here to come up with a strategy and telling you of one we had a LOT of success with last year. I could buy you a bag of Starbursts so it's not an expense for you." And the teacher is just, again, horrified that the parent is trying and is willing to give the kid something the other students don't get to keep their focus.

But like, my nephew has an IEP in place and this...doesn't sound too far off from how they work out what accommodations work for a student? He gets a special bouncy chair for so much of the day because he fidgets and gets restless. He used to get a reward of an animal cracker or a sticky hand or something similar from his occupational therapist for finishing coloring sheets and stuff.

The language the parent used, even in the tiktok, reminded me of all of that. It's the "She needs an indicator that she's actually finished" and it sounds like it's more of a mental thing of "ok I've been told I have these things to do and I can keep track of them better if I've received my starburst telling me I've finished things." Like it's a focus tool and not straight up bribery?? Am I off here? Because I think the parent is just telling the teacher reasonable accommodations they've made in the past to help their kid complete lists of tasks, offered to cover any expense in doing it, and the teacher is just going "no she has a list."

[novankenn]

"Ozpin's Fault - AU"

Oz's Hazardous Encounter (1/1) (1100 words)

(Tumblr exclusive "Remake" of Oops My Bad posted on AO3)

Ozpin felt a disturbance, an aura of intense anger approaching his location. Swallowing nervously, he tidied his desk, and made himself presentable. Clasping his hands on his desk before him, he waited with bated breath. As if signalling his impending doom, the elevator dinged in a very sombre tone, before the doors slid open, revealing the source.

"Glynda, what brings..."

"Can it. I know you did something last night, not you're going to fix it!"

"What?" Ozpin squeaked before schooling his voice and regaining his normal tone, "What could you mean? I'm at a loss to what you are referring to."

"Ozpin. Do. Not. Make. Me. Call. Jasmine. Arc."

"Why, would you do that?" Ozpin's face paled.

"Because, you did something last night, and it has directly effected a member of my family... and her son." Glynda said coldly.

"I still have no inkling to what you are referring to."

"Really?"

"I'm serious. I don't know what you are talking about."

"My mistake." Glynda pulled her tablet from under her arm and appeared to take a moment to find something on it, before tossing it on Ozpin's desk. An image of an overly cute blond haired fox faunus woman filling the screen. "Explain. Now."

"Um..." Ozpin was at a loss for words. He had no clue what Glynda was asking of him. So he just went with being stupid. "She's cute?"

"She is my niece..."

"Oh, I didn't know one of your family married a..."

"No you misunderstand. She is my niece... who used to be my nephew... Jaune Arc."

Ozpin's face paled. Now he understood the veiled threat about calling Jasmine Arc, and why Glynda Goodiwtch was on the warpath. He had faced a similar type of anger right after initiation when Glynda took him to task about "Flinging her precious darling nephew off a cliff." It wasn't his fault that Glynda had been sick the day of the initiation planning meeting.

"He... er... she is a real heartbreaker, maybe instead of being mad at me... you should, I don't know, be chasing off the guys that are going to swarm her?"

"Jaune is attracted to girls."

"Not judging, but my comment stands. You know how hormonal teenagers can be..."

"Oh, I do, and I also know how geriatric immortals with too much time on their hands like to play around with us... mortals."

"I do no, such thing!"

"I have to tell you Ozpin, there is an idea rolling about in my head, and I am really tempted to follow through with it..." Glynda gave Ozpin a cold smile. "So before I give in, please help me."

"Help you do what?"

"Find an explanation why my darling, precious nephew is now female and a fox faunus." Glynda growled, "Do you have any thoughts on that matter?"

"Well," Ozpin paused, picking the words that would be least likely to cause Glynda to snap. "What do we know, about the situation."

"It happened last night. Jaune went to sleep as a boy. Felt sick, and then woke up in the bathroom as a girl, this morning."

"That's not much to work with."

"Humour me, and give me your thoughts on a potential cause as to why my darling nephew is now my adorable niece. I would LOVE to hear them."

"Well..." Ozpin paused as he racked his brain to come up with something. "Delayed side effect from a Dust experiment gone wrong?"

"Dust doesn't work that way, so Ozpin, should we see IF you can reach Mount Glenn?"

“I don't think...” Ozpin in his mind could see Glynda trying. He doubted he'd reach Mount Glen, as much as he doubted that his landing strategy would handle the crash landing he would end up having to endure.

"That's right, you're not thinking... so try again."

"Strange glowing meteor?"

“Really?”

“Rare flower pollen?”

“Doubtful.”

“Mutant grimm?”

“Seriously?”

“His semblance?”

“Jaune never unlocked his... her semblance, yet.”

“Maybe he... she has?”

“Doubtful.” Glynda's eyes narrowed. “I noticed you missed a possibility, that would actually be reality knowing what I know about you.”

“Nope, can't think of anything else. Sorry.”

“Magic.”

“Now, now Glynda why would you assume this is magic?”

“Because there is NO other reasonable explanation for it to happen. So. What. Did. You. Do?”

“Why do you feel this is my doing?” Ozpin shifted nervously in his seat. He knew without a doubt he had caused this chaos, but he'd be damned to admit it.; considering who he unintentionally targeted.

“Unless SHE has suddenly decided to change her tactics, and happened to be having a joy walk on Beacon grounds... there is ONLY you as the other suspect.”

“I'm hurt...”

“Not yet, you're not.” Glynda growled.

“I'm serious. I have no idea how this happened.” Ozpin lied through his teeth. He knew exactly how it happened, just not why he did it. Wrong, he did know. He wanted to have some fun and blow off some steam... he just hadn't specifically to target the young Arc heir. He just happened to be a target of opportunity.

“Ozpin...” Glynda reached out, still leaning over his desk, and grabbed him by his collar with her right hand. She yanked him forward until he was nose to nose with her. “You did this. You WILL fix it. Understood?”

“I still...”

“You WILL fix this, or...”

“Or?”

“Beacon will suddenly develop a Space Program.” Glynda glared, her green eyes borrowing right into him, “How would you like to be the first person on Remnant to set foot on the moon?”

“Interesting possibility, but I still have no idea what happened to Mr... Ms Arc.” Ozpin again lied, but he had the distinct feeling it wasn't working with Glynda.

“You DID this.” Yep he was right, Glynda wasn't buying it. “You WILL fix it. Understood?”

“And... if I can't?”

“You'll find out if the moon is actually made of cheese.”

“We both know that...”

“Ozpin.” Glynda cut him off.

“Yes?” Ozpin was unable to suppress the waver in his voice.

“FIX. IT.”

“I can try.” he whimpered as Glynda's grip tightened on his collar making it slightly harder to breath.

“There is NO try. There is do or do not.” Glynda spoke in way too calm of a tone. “And if it is do not... you're going to learn to fly.”

“I'll see what I can do.” Ozpin muttered, knowing he was defeated and resistance was futile. Though he refused to openly admit that he was catalyst for this incident.

“You will do more than see. Understand?”

“Perfectly.” Ozpin replied with a whimper.

[none-prob]

I write about a character per day

Day 13: Philip Wittebane/Emperor Belos

I have had my fair share of thoughts and even at some point comparing him to freaking George W. Bush. I mean, he had his turning point with Lilith's punch, faked evidence to cause witch genocide, fear mongered the power of wild magic, and caused absolute chaos under the cover of a classification system. But I have to give credits where credits due, Belos is a really well-written villain.

Belos is an excellent manipulator. One who successfully fearmongered like the entire island against wild witches. It took a long time for him to get his own army, gain the citizens' trust, and follow his orders, even the ones that would actually kill them. The moment he successfully gained the trust, the knife will stab in the back. Lilith was also a victim in this. She was promised a cure for her sister's curse, even at some point being used to pitch against her own sister, only to realize the lies under his mouth.

Hunter is probably one of the biggest victim of Belos. Someone who was his right hand man, his nephew, and Belos used it so successfully to isolated him from the open world, as well as built the trust in him. Even at the end of King's Tide, Hunter is still shaking and doubting himself when Belos used that nurturing voice to manipulate him again. It's insanely powerful, one of the weapons Belos used so well, and the only way Hunter broke through, wasn't just his willpower, it was for him to see Belos for who he is.

We even saw this strategy working on the Collector, a villain-victim hybrid whose villain side finally showed up in Season 3. Belos had used the Collector to the maximum, only to betrayed him again, like he did with Lilith and Hunter. And even after all of that, he still managed to possessed puppet Raine and once again to get the Collector into fighting our Hexsquad.

So I want to talk about Elsewhere and Elsewhen for a bit, because this was when we found out about Belos' turning point. He already had his own hatred towards witches, they bullied him, but he couldn't find back. But now, he hated them even more, found the tools he needed, and ready to take over everything. This is an important point, because neither Luz or Lilith had to be responsible for his crappy behaviour. Luz and Lilith helped him reached the Collector, but it was always him who decided to react that way. But oh boy he made sure he would not let Luz forgot about it.

With the vast majority of the people following Belos' rules, he still had some of the rebels who wouldn't. And he had two options. The first one is gaslighting. And it apparently did damage on Luz, as she starts self-doubting and regretting a lot. Guilt-tripping is an incredibly strong and dangerous strategy, as it starts causing chaos within the other group, and weaken the victim. Luz once she found out she accidentally helped Belos, she couldn't help herself. She can't be frank with her friends, or do anything, as she can't stop feeling guilty about herself. This is why I said Belos' writing is good. A good mix of traditional Disney villain with a more modern villain type.

The second way to get the rebels is of course, violence. Belos had successfully built a narrative that is so strong within the people, vilify "wild magic", legitimate and praise "coven". This is a textbook right wing strategy, their purpose is to drive the narrative for them, pushing the people who were supposed to be on one side into against each other, and at the end take them all out. He got the military ready to capture all the wild witches, time and time again trying to capture Eda. With the downside of violence being losing the trust of people, Belos even sugarcoated it as "helping wild witches joining the society", when in reality, he wanted to control.

One of my favourite quote by Malcolm X is "A fox is always more dangerous in the forest than the wolf. You can see the wolf coming. You know what he's up to. But the fox will fool you. He comes at you with his mouth shaped in such a way even though you see his teeth, you think he's smiling and take him for a friend." Belos is that fox. A slimey, greasy, dangerous fox. A control freak. He is, in that sense, a really well-written character.

[diakosiwayne]

4 Reading Strategies to Retire This Year (Plus 6 to Try Out!)

Bagares, John Wayne B.

Reaction Paper

            The article talked about reading strategies that needs to retire and suggested strategies to compensate it, they first quoted the rampant use of round robin reading, for those of you who don’t know it, it basically means that it is a teaching strategy where the teacher ask one student to read a sentence and then the student sitting next to them will continue reading it until all the students in the class or if the story is finished. They stated that the used of round robin reading is widely used in US, although there are researches that contradicts its effects, teachers still used it because it is easy to implement.

            They moved forward to stating the four practices that needs to retire and these are reading logs, turn-taking oral reading practices, Awarding prizes for reading, Overemphasis on reading as a discrete skill. Reading Logs requires students to note every book they read, I agree on their take on this one, my reason is that students are forced to read for the sake of having entries for their logs. A good example of turn-taking oral reading practices is round robin reading, I also agree on their take on this one, because I believe that students comprehends at a different pace, forcing students to follow a text to catch up to their peers destroys the whole purpose. Awarding prizes for reading just like the title suggest, this is giving prizes to readers to encourage them to read, I also agree on their take on this one, because I find prizes something that wouldn’t motivate readers to enjoy what they are reading, this blinds the readers to read story for the sole purpose of gaining a prize. and lastly, Overemphasis on reading as a discrete skill, I’m at loss on this one, there’s a part of me that believes the efficacy of this and there’s a part of me that contradicts the very thought of it.

            After stating all the strategies that needs to retire, they gave alternatives for teachers to use and these are Reading accountability partners, Choral reading, Scaffolded silent reading, Teacher read-aloud and modeling, Reading buddies, Building background knowledge. Out of the six alternatives they gave two struck my attention, these are reading buddies and building background knowledge. Reading buddies is an effective method for me, this is because I’ve witnessed it personally, my niece and nephew read a story book together, although the main purpose why they are reading together is for my nephew to improve his reading skills, my niece looked like she’s enjoying it and also correcting him boosted her confidence in reading. The second one is building background knowledge, this is something I experience personally, my former teacher always gives us prior teaching before we are tasked to read a story, this helped me in understanding various terminology and also made reading enjoyable.

[thestarrynightslover]

I'll Make It Okay for You - Part 1

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Word count: 3,666

Warnings: Discussion, yelling, some angst, mentions of drugs, and drug abuse. 

Summary: What happens when (y/n) (y/l/n), Harvey’s secret crush and a junior partner at his firm, openly defies him in front of everyone?

You can find Part 2 here.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the show Suits, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: So, this is my first Harvey Specter fic and I’m obviously quite unsure about it, lol. This might’ve ended up like one big mess, cause I tried to combine a bunch of Harveys I wanted to see. The perfect recipe for disaster, right? Anyways, I hope it doesn’t suck too bad and, please, feel free to give me feedback, cause I’m also here to learn!!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

You’d barely stepped out of the elevator when you were met by your secretary that morning. That couldn’t mean anything good.

“Morning, (y/n/n). You’ve got an emergency meeting with Jessica today. Gonna give you the schedule on the way there.” Lucy stated, leading you on the opposite way to Jessica’s office.

“Oh, I got the memo; company’s under attack again. She wants me on the frontlines this time. Louis is probably running around saying ‘We’re at war, people, war!!!’, or something like that. But why aren’t we headed towards the boss’ office?”

“Apparently, uh, she wants y’all to convey at Harvey’s office.” She said hesitantly, as if afraid of your reaction.

“Are you kidding me? It’s the first hour of the morning and she wants me to go see that smug face of his?” You pouted childishly.

“Smug and hot, you mean.” Lucy corrected you, getting an outraged look from you in response, as she usually would by saying anything positive about Specter.

“Shush,” You said, motioning for her to stop talking, “ one shall not praise Harvey Annoying Specter around me.” You stated full of obstination, but the younger woman just laughed you off and said:

“Well, here we are. I guess I’ll just have to send you an e-mail with your schedule, since, once again, we spent our schedule minutes of the day talking about “the enemy”.” She mocked with gestures and everything this time. That Lucy really was a piece of work, she timed the whole thing perfectly, in a way that you couldn’t even repudiate her insinuations because you were already standing in front of Specter’s office door.

Not long after you had entered and Jessica had officially started the strategy-meeting, though, all eyes in the room turned to you, as your phone started ringing in your back pocket. "Shit! I'm- I'm so sorry, guys, I guess I-"

"Can you please take your job seriously for once in your life, (y/l/n)?" You heard Harvey Pain-In-The-Ass Specter rudely remark, as you tried to swallow your embarrassment.

“Well, like I was trying to say, I’m sorry. Gonna turn it off right now, won’t happen again.” You said, directing your apologetic look to Jessica.

“You should just go ahead and answer it, could be something important.” She calmly told you.

“Especially now that you’ve already interrupted our work.” Specter chipped in again, which just gave you more fuel to answer the goddamn phone.

“Hello, yeah this is her.” You confirmed to the man on the phone, while taking a few steps towards the corner of the room. “What??? Are you sure? Oh my God! O- okay, just tell me which one and I’ll be there as soon as possible! Right, thank you.” Everyone’s eyes were on you, trying to understand what made you look so distressed. Except his, of course.

“Wait a second. Are you leaving right now?” He asked with a mix of annoyance and irritation in his voice.

“Yes, I am. I’m sorry, Jessica, but this is a family emergency. I have to go.”

“Well, I just hope you know that this doesn’t look good for you, (y/n).” She said, voice inexpressive.

“I do and, honestly? I couldn’t care less about that right now.” You firmly told her, while hoping your career wasn’t over by the next morning.

“I hope everything goes well for you and your family, (y/n). If you need anything, and I mean anything, just let me know.” Louis told you with that childish smile of his. Jesus, even in a moment like this, he tried to flirt with you.

“Thank you, Louis. That’s very kind.” You faked a tiny smile.

“Unbelievable.” 

“What?” You asked, turning back to face Harvey.

“Your firm is under attack and you’re leaving because of some stupid family crap?” Was he even serious?

“Precisely. And I don’t really care what your thoughts are on it. Our priorities are clearly very different.” Who the hell did he think he was to say anything about your family’s issues?

“Well, that shouldn’t matter because, the minute you walk in here, through those elevators out there, you’re supposed to leave all things personal behind.”

“Oh, right. I’m so sorry that I’m not some heartless lawyer like you, who’s just in it for the petty fights in the name of money-making.” Shit. You needed to get the hell out of there before you said something else to make Specter wanna kick you out himself. So you did. Stormed out like there was no tomorrow, leaving nothing but the very shocked Donna, Jessica, Louis, Mike, and Rachel behind. Oh, yeah, and a very pissed-off Harvey Specter.

Okay, maybe you were a little too harsh, but given the place you needed to go, to do what you needed to do, you didn't care about Harvey, your job, or anything else.

---

It was much later on that same day, around dinner time, that you heard a soft knock on your door. But how could someone be at your door, if the doorman downstairs hadn't announced any visitors? Were you dreaming? Well, the day had been so tiring that that wasn't exactly impossible… Nonetheless, you made your way to the door, whilst holding your very needy three-year-old nephew in your arms. Not that you could blame Henry after the day he’d had.

Since you weren’t expecting anyone, it was reasonable to believe that, whoever it was, was going to be a surprise. But not in a million years would have you ever guessed that Harvey Specter was the one knocking at your door. Especially considering what had happened at the firm earlier. How did he even know your address?

“Hi, (y/l/n). I didn’t know you had a kid.” He stated with a bit of surprise of his own, pointing to the little boy you were carrying.

“No, uh, I don’t have any.” You managed to say, trying to control your shocked expression. “This is my nephew.” You clarified again, a little more at ease this time.

“My name’s Henry. What’s yours?” You heard your nephew ask with his cute child-voice.

“Harvey. It’s, uh, it’s very nice to meet you, Henry.” Harvey told the boy, holding out his hand for him to shake, as a sweet smile came to his lips.

“Is he your friend, auntie (y/n/n)?” Henry asked you hesitantly, before making a move. The Don’t Talk to Strangers Rule must’ve kicked in his mind. 

Before answering him, you hesitated a little bit yourself, though. Was Harvey your friend? Obviously not, but if he came to your apartment in the middle of the night like this, it was probably because of something important. Work-related, of course. Which meant you’d have to let him in, so you settled for what would be the easiest classification for a three-year-old.

“Yeah, bud, he is my friend from work.” Hearing that, something in Specter’s eyes changed, you didn’t really know what, though.

“Well, then, can he come play with us?” He gave you such a cute look, that you almost said yes right on cue. But you obviously couldn’t. 

“You’d have to ask him, but I’m sure he has a lot of other, more important, things to do now.” You tried to explain to the little boy, giving Harvey a look. But you didn’t get too far, as the lawyer quickly said:

“Of course I wanna go play with you! That is if your auntie’s okay with that…” Now he was mocking you, that was the only explanation.

“Can we play with him, then, auntie (y/n/n)? Please, please, please?” God, what horrible thing could’ve you possibly done to deserve this particular punishment?

“Um, I guess... If he really has nothing better to do-” Harvey didn’t even let you finish your sentence.

“I really don’t.” He said, shooting you and Henry a bright smile that you’d never seen before.

“Okay, then, come in. Please disregard the mess, I got this stuff to make dinner, but someone just won’t detach, right, mister?” You asked your nephew with fake annoyance in your voice, as you tickled his sides a little bit. He just laughed at you. Though what really caught your attention was the fact that Harvey, too, was chuckling lightly at the scene, as he started picking up your groceries’ bags from the floor. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you, what else?” You gave him a weird look because, well, it was a weird situation. Maybe he noticed your discomfort because he added: “You look tired, so I’ll help you by making dinner and putting the rest of these away.”

“You’re kidding, right?” There was no way in hell that the All-Mighty Harvey Specter was gonna get domestic for you, of all people. Since he didn’t bother to answer, you went on: “First of all, what was it that you really came here to do, hum? And, second, I don’t need your help with anything.” Normally you tried to be kind to everyone, but, then again, Specter wasn’t exactly your normal kind of guy.

“Well, first of all,” he started in a tone of mockery, “that was rude! Look at the example you’re setting for little Henry!” Oh God, as much as you hated to admit it, he was kinda right, because you had completely forgotten about the little boy still cradled in your arms. “Second, we can talk about the reason why I came here later,” after your nephew’s asleep, was implicit in his speech, “third, it looks like you do need some help. And, for your luck, I happen to be a very good cook when I want to.”

“But-” You could barely begin your sentence, as Harvey sharply cut you off:

“You see, buddy,” he started, motioning to Henry this time, “the quicker we get your auntie on board with the game plan, the quicker we’ll get to eat and go play together!” Son of a bitch! Using a child to get to you…

“Can we please, auntie? Please?” How could you not crack after that pleading?

“Fine, but I swear I’ll make you pay if we wake up with food poisoning tomorrow, Specter.” You told him playfully, trying to lighten the mood after all of your bluntness.

“Oh, trust me, (y/l/n), you won’t. This will be the best meal you and the young man here will ever have in your entire lives.” He said cockily, but without the usual arrogance level, if that even makes sense.

A few hours and a really great dinner later, you and Henry couldn’t help but snicker shamelessly at Harvey’s ridiculous faces, as the three of you played a game on your living room’s floor. Trying to catch your breath from your giggles, you glanced up at the clock and realized that it was way too late for your nephew to be out of bed like that. So you broke up the game, announcing:

“It’s bedtime for you, Mr. Henry.” You watched the faces of the pair turn into ones of pure disappointment, as they prepared to pout.

“Just a little longer, auntie (y/n/n)! please!” The little boy started.

“Yeah, auntie, just a little longer! Please?” This time it was the grown man, one of the toughest Wall Street lawyers.

“As moved as I am by your synchrony, guys, the answer is a big no. C’mon, bud, let’s go brush your teeth. And then straight to bed. So say bye to Harvey, and thank him for being so nice to us tonight.” He looked between you and Specter as if still hoping for a hail Mary of some sort.

“Bye, Harvey.” He sounded so sad, but then he smiled brightly again, as he repeated what you’d told him to say word by word: “And thank you for being so nice to us tonight.” Hearing that, both you and Harvey chuckled lightly at the young boy, who quickly added: “Will you come see us tomorrow too?”

“Uh, we’ll, uh, we’ll see about that, okay, little man?” He tried to let Henry down slowly but, watching the boy’s expression become a sad one instantly, he added: “It’s just because both your auntie and I have a lot of work ahead of us tomorrow, but I’ll do my best, okay?” That was definitely a side of Harvey you’d never seen before, he had even bent down to be on your nephew’s level.

“Okay.” Henry said quietly, seeming to be a little happier, too.

“Okay, then let’s just go upstairs already.” You took the boy’s hand to guide him towards the spare bedroom’s bathroom, all the while shooting Specter a look that told him to wait for you a little longer.

“I’ll wait for you down here.” He said, proving he understood what your eyes tried to transmit.

So you headed upstairs with your nephew and, after a good fifteen minutes of brushing Henry’s teeth, helping him into his PJs, and tucking him in, you finally managed to come back to the living room, where you found Harvey looking through some of your photos displayed on the sideboard. For a minute or two, you just watched him. It wasn’t that you liked what you saw or anything. It wasn’t. It was more like postponing the weird conversation you two were bound to have, because, after all that had happened in those few hours, the atmosphere was, at very least, a strange one. But, almost as if he’d felt your gaze on his back, the lawyer in him was switched on, and he interrupted your thoughts by saying:

“Ah, you’re back. Good, because we need to talk.” You just motioned for him to follow you into your home office. But both you and Harvey looked so informal to be in that kind of environment, that you just indicated the small couch on the wall opposite to your desk for you to take your seats in.

“So, uh, before you even say anything, I wanna thank you for being so kind tonight,” a small smile came to your lips, as you remembered, not only the evening but how your nephew had used almost those exact same words, already imitating you, a little earlier. Specter smiled too, you noticed. “and I also wanna apologize. If you came here to talk to me… I must’ve made you waste a lot of time, huh?” You tried with a half-smile this time, as embarrassment started taking over you.

“What? No, of course not! I'm pretty sure that I told you I didn't have anything better to do, didn't I?" He calmly asked with a smile.

"Yeah, but I'm not buying it. You're Harvey Specter, isn't that what you're always saying? And Harvey Specter always has something better to do, isn't that right?" You shot back in a mockery tone, regaining your confidence.

"Well, maybe. But, not today. So don't apologize, and don't thank me. I'm the one who should be thanking you, I had a really good time tonight." Okay, now you were shocked. He had a good time?

"Uh, okay, um, so... What was so urgent that you had to come here in the middle of the night?" You nervously ranted, while tugging your hair behind your ears. He just stared at you, so much so that you almost repeated your question.

"Um, yeah, about this morning… That's why I came here…" You were already guessing that that would come up eventually, but it was the topic of your conversation? "I know that you and I always had our differences, and maybe even some rivalry-"

"Some rivalry? Dude, I'm just a junior partner, and ever since I started on that firm you've been persecuting me-"

"I wouldn't say persecuting…"

"Oh, you wouldn't?"

"Not since you made junior partner anyways. Now it's just a healthy rivalry between work friends…" He tried to use what you’d told your nephew earlier. 

"Oh, so you do admit you were persecuting me when I was an associate, huh?"

"Shit." He muttered quietly, as you watched him with a victory smile on your lips. "You know what? Hell yeah, I did persecute you when you were an associate." Hearing that blunt admission of guilt, you just couldn't find anything to say. “You wanna know why? I did that because, from the first time I saw you doing your job, I saw this very thing that I see now: you kicking ass, you think I wanted to admit this to you? I’ll answer it myself: no, I didn’t. The only reason why it happened is that you led me to it.” He blurted out, completely knocking you off your socks.

“So, um, you treated, you treat me like shit because, um, because I’m good?” You asked, still unsure of what to think about his confession.

“Well, that was part of it, sure. So, you see, I could understand it when you weren’t particularly thrilled at the perspective of working with me. But, this morning, you said that I’m a heartless guy who only cares about money… Is that really what you think of me?” This time he sounded genuinely sad? When Harvey said that he’d come to your apartment to talk about that morning, you thought he was gonna reprimand the shit out of you for disrespecting him ⎯ your sort of boss, a senior partner ⎯, but, apparently, he was asking about it on a more personal level. A level you’d never really thought played a part in your relationship with him.

“Oh, Harvey…”

“Be honest, please. I don’t want your pity. You don’t even know me all that well, so don’t try to minimize anything. I can take it.”

“That’s not what I was gonna do. And, trust me, you’re probably the last person in the world I’d pity.” You told him with a sly smile. “You’re right. I don’t know you all that well. Or, at least, I didn’t this morning. But I do know that you’re not heartless. Also, I was really out of line then, I’ve seen you fighting tooth and nail for a lot more than just money in that firm. You’re loyal to your firm and friends like no one else and, tonight, I watched you sitting on the floor and playing with a little boy. And, trust me, that meant more to him than you’d ever know, especially after today… Anyways, what I’m really trying to say is that I was so damn wrong and that I’m sorry. I’d gotten some pretty nerve-racking news beforehand, not that that’s an excuse but...” You told him, meaning every word and trying hard to show how much you regretted your previous actions.

“Wait, what news?”

“Ah, it’s nothing for you to worry about, really.” You tried to brush him off.

“Oh, c’mon! You said all those nice things about me, but when it comes to your life and your problems you still don’t trust me, isn’t that right?” His tone was sharply inexpressive, but his eyes showed he was actually hurt.

“What are you talking about? Oh my God, Harvey! I’ve relied on you for a number of cases that I really cared about! I let you in on my apartment! I let you spend an entire night around my nephew! Of course, I trust you!”

“Then what the hell is the problem? You think I’m not gonna give a damn about your family issues? Is that it? Because I am literally begging you to tell me about them!”

“I don’t wanna tell you because I don’t want you, or anyone else on the firm, to think that I’m some pathetic little girl who uses her family issues as an excuse to get out of a tough fight.” You confessed in a lower tone, slightly embarrassed, just hoping he would understand and stop poking. “Things are very different when you’re a woman, you know…”

“I would never think that about you. Family is important. Especially if it’s made of people like Henry…” He said, reassuring you, even though there was a hint of sadness in his voice. “Besides, you said you trust me, so you need to trust me when I say that I wouldn’t betray you by telling people about your problems. I’m not here as your boss, (y/n). I just wanna help you.” He sounded so sincere and, if you were being honest with yourself, you kinda really needed to vent.

“Okay, um, where to start? I have two sisters: Henry’s mother, Kat, and a fifteen-year-old, Lisa. I’m the older one of all three of us. Lisa’s sick, like very sick, so my parents, who are both retired, are with her at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, to try and get her better. In the meantime, Kat was supposed to go to college, as well as care for her son, between my parents and me, she wouldn’t even need to provide for them or anything. But, a while ago, she overdosed for the first time. That’s when we found out about her addiction. We’ve already tried a million different things but nothing works. So, my parents and I threatened to make her lose her parental rights over Henry, hoping that it’d be a wake-up call for her, but it backfired. She just took the boy and disappeared, then today I get that call, from the police department, saying that she was in custody for drug distribution and endangering the well-fare of a minor. They asked me to go pick my nephew and, maybe, get Kat a lawyer.” And, just like that, you’d told Harvey Specter, of all people, everything. Tears rolling down your cheeks and him pulling you into a hug.

If anyone had told you that that was how your night was gonna go, you would have definitely laughed them out of the room. But now, just sitting there, being held and caressed by Harvey, as you let your armor down, it was finally beginning to look like things were gonna be okay. 

[evita-shelby]

Between the Shadow and the Soul

Chapter 45

Taglist: @joossieisdabomb @johnathancanines @peakyblindas @kissmyquill @zablife

The first lesson Finn learns is to keep his mouth shut and given the praise Arthur heaps on him for using his head for once has him ready for his next lesson: observing.

Finn’s focus on Billy Grade and the things he did and said and the way he acted was incredibly useful. Something was off about him; the newly engaged boy had confided in her. Like he wanted in on the gang, but not wanting to get his hands dirty.

“Arthur thinks he’s just scared, but I know how scared looks, Evie.” He told her when no one else believed him.

Tiago was still out of commission and Florence was still in Mexico with her nephew. There wouldn’t be a way to get anything on Billy Grade without arousing suspicion.

“Make sure it doesn’t look obvious, Finn, ask Isiah and his dad for help if you need to. Even if it proves nothing, you can’t stop until you either find the thing you need or proof that you’re just being paranoid.

Remember lesson number one, kid.” She told him as they measured him for his wedding suit. “And no more drugs, Finn, you’re having a baby and a wife who need you at your best.”

“If I had a wife as stunning and attentive as you, I wouldn’t have fucked mother-in-law,” Mosley says from behind her.

The immediate repulsion she feels when she meets him makes her instant loathing for Gina look small and insignificant compared to it.

"You must be the infamous Sir Oswald Mosley,” She smiles and plays the vivacious and enigmatic Mrs. Shelby like a seasoned actor. After all, she did spend nearly three years being the pretty and wild Señorita Smith in Mexico City.

“In the flesh, you must be the enchanting Mrs. Eva Shelby.” He makes to kiss her cheek, a custom everyone has now associated with her, but moves away.

“I thought it was a Mexican custom to greet people with a kiss on the cheek.” He keeps trying to flirt with her and Eva wished Tommy could end his meeting sooner.

“Only the cheeks of women and men in my family, I’d hate for people to think that you invited my husband into your party because you wanted to fuck his foreign wife.” She says with an innocent laugh.

“Why can’t I have him there for both reasons, Mrs. Shelby?” This was considered one of the most handsome politicians and Eva finds him as repulsive as cow shit.

“I don’t think your fascist friends would like it if they knew you fucked a half gypsy, quarter Aztec woman.” Eva warns with a smirk. “Besides, I have a husband who’s more than capable of satisfying me.”

“I’m having a dinner party for my birthday, I’m sure my wife would be glad to invite you.” Mosley leans in and she finds the urge to move even further away.

“I’m afraid we won’t be there, Cimmie invited us last week, but you see, Dia turns four that day and I’d hate to ruin my girl’s party.” She says with fake regret.

Thank God Diane was born on November 14. Sure it was horrible for her baby to share a birthday with this fucking prick, but thank the universe for giving them an excuse not to be there.

“I’ve heard things about you, Mrs. Shelby.” He keeps talking to her dismay.

“Good things, I hope.” Eva knows what he means, whispers had started that Mrs. Shelby was a fortune teller, an accurate one too. Most men here sent their wives to get a reading from her when she was in London. The prices always vary, sometimes its money, other times it’s an object and once or twice it’s a favor.

Cynthia Mosley gave her a guaranteed invitation for every single event she and her husband would host after the Sun appeared with the promise of a baby boy next two years. Never mind that she’d die a year after in 1933.

“I heard you are better than Nostradamus at his best. It’s no wonder Queen Mary trusts you with her purse.” Mosley said, his voice low enough for only her to hear.

Visions of Mosley reading on reports ---translated into English--- detailing how Eva planned strategies with Villa’s Dorados, how Eva knew at which time to have her ships leave the docks to avoid searches and rough travels and worst yet, how she was present at interrogations in Mexico.

Churchill had fed Mosley the information he needed, that fucking bastard.

Eva can hear Tommy stand from his desk chair, shake hands with whoever needs his services and soon enough they hear the small chatter as they pretend they didn’t just pay 40 thousand dollars to silence some mistress blackmailing some government official.

Eva can’t concentrate on what is being said, she’s too busy waiting for it to be over.

Tommy invites him for a pheasant hunt to make up for not going to his stupid dinner and she gives no hint that her mind is already on planning his murder.

The door closed behind the devil and she waits until he is ten paces away to say what she has been trying to say this past hour.

“He knows, he fucking knows I’m a real witch.” Usually everyone assumed she just did tarot readings for fun, after all everyone dabbled in the occult from time to time. But Mosley knew she was a real witch who had visions, something she didn’t tell anyone, not even May Carleton. “Churchill gave him my files.”

“I know, he said it’s part of the plan.” Thomas put out his cigarette eve if he was only half ways with it.

“He needs an informant, and I believe that if we lull him into a false sense of security, we can avoid being caught. Besides your abilities are an open secret here, they just know better than to say it.” He explains as if it weren’t a big deal and expecting her to counter it as she usually does.

“I wish you could’ve told me first, you know I don’t like surprises, amor.” As much as Eva hates to admit it, it’s a good plan. “But it’s a good plan, we did the same with Carranza and his people to let him think I had truly repented. Except they asked me permission first.”

“Churchill has suspended all searches on your ships, particularly those coming from Germany and other fascist countries as an apology.” Tommy gestures for her to come sit on his lap and she plays hard to get by remaining where she is.

“And what will I get as an apology from my inconsiderate husband?” she asks coquettishly, horniness was a side effect from pregnancy, one of the few she enjoyed.

“The chance to make Mosley’s life miserable in the best ways you know.” Tommy says with a wicked look in his eyes.

The rest of October passed with little to know excitement. Bonnie had not been avenged, the family discovered Linda had an estranged half-brother in Bourneville whom Mosely’s spies had assumed was her lover, and ---to everyone’s relief--- Ada was engaged to Younger. Wedding was scheduled as soon as he could get his hands on his mother's wedding ring.

It was at Diane’s birthday party that everything started coming at them.

It was just family and some friends, but people had sent gifts to the birthday girl, just like they had done for Gabe in August, Charlie in September and even Tommy.

Eva was renowned for her magnificent parties; Diane’s fourth birthday was no exception.

Eva liked big parties, sure somethings could leave her a nervous wreck a breeze away from falling apart ---like pretending someone isn’t being murdered in the stables---, but small parties did not exist in her book.

The theme was princess and Dia had been the belle of the ball in her rococo era dress made just for her.

“She looks like Marie Antoinette with that fucking wig.” Polly chuckled into her champagne.

The maids cleaned out the dining room, and those who’d be staying the night helped themselves to the glorious pink and gold cake with real roses and crystals.

Said wig made the four year old look like some child from the 18th century who’d been transported to the modern age from Versailles.

“Dia wanted to wear it. Ask her why she chose a red choker for it, I’ve never been so proud of her fashion choices.” Evie drank her non alcoholic cocktail, a creation she had to begrudgingly thank Gina for.

“I can’t believe Beth Boswell came here all the way from Wales.” Polly could not get over how their distant kinswoman ---and Diane’s godmother--- had forgone payment for tonight. “Gave her a fucking sapphire necklace like yours to boot.”

The sapphire had been just as cursed, after all it had been the one Tatiana Petrovna had kept and later sold. Bethany had seen it on the hands of an unsuspecting woman and had stolen it before it took her life. Now the curse was broken and the stone was set into gold and copper chain like hers.

Bethany was very generous and every gift of hers was grand. Charlie had the lost pocket watch that once belonged to his great grandfather, Gabe had a toy horse that used to be his father’s and had been sold when the Shelbys fell on hard times and Tommy had gotten the ring his grandfather had lost to Aberama Gold. Eva was giddy to see what treasure the witch would give her on her birthday.

“If you look at Dia’s mountain of gifts you’ll find a fucking doll house given to her by Queen Mary.” Eva whispers before Gina came to them. “I may not like royalty, but Jesus, fuck, their gifts are amazing.”

“When Izzy said Pythia was friends with everyone, I didn’t believe that included fucking royalty.” Gina says and Eva fights the urge to roll her eyes. “Your Diane is so precious.”

Diane had gone and hugged the twat and pressed her ear on her flat stomach and pronounced Lawrence’s fate. The witches in her family had been so proud especially when the birthday girl did the same to Ada and the newly married, Deborah.

“If Lawrence was a girl, she’d be a witch too.” Polly says with a smirk.

The conversation ends abruptly when Diane comes running to Polly, clutching to the pretty ballerina she gave her.

Poor girl’s in tears sobbing with such emotion that everyone wonders what the fuck did Diane see when she took the doll.

“You’re going to die, someone’s gonna kill you.” The four year old managed to cry out loud.

It is with those words that all joy dies in the house.

[downtonabbeyrevisited]

Season Two Episode Two

Following a typically chaotic opener, Episode Two of Season Two strikes a far more sombre tone. The arrival of Henry Lang as Robert’s valet brings the first of this episode’s three plot points that address the impact of WW1 on the mental health of its soldiers. There is nothing funny to say about either shell-shock or suicidal ideation both of which are vast, complex issues that, for my money, Downton Abbey isn’t the vehicle explore in (because they require more time and depth than the pace of the plot in Season Two affords) and it certainly isn’t my place to make light of them in this rather irreverent corner of the internet. So I’m going to have a go at treading a fine line here. Forgive me if I stumble. 

Lang is clearly in the grips of something awful and yet in an attempt to avoid the indignity of having maids in the dining room, he is bumped up to footman duty. He struggles throughout, culminating in him depositing his cargo on Edith’s dress. Mrs O’Brein has firmly taken Lang under her wing, recognising that he is struggling and offers him assurance and comfort that she has never gifted to Thomas. 

Across the Village, Lieutenant Edward Courtenay is in the hospital having been blinded by gas. The use of gas (both chlorine and mustard) had a devastating impact on soldiers in WW1 but was also the root of the development of Zyklon B. Frtiz Haber, a German Jewish chemist, enabled chlorine gas to be used a weapon in WW1 and his research was later developed into the Zyklon process which was used by the Nazis to murder millions, including his own family. This is only one of a dizzying number of appalling ironies to be found in the World Wars but as I said last episode, I’m not a military historian so I’m going to leave it there. Edward had plans to return to the country after his graduation from Oxford to pursue the simple life (although one gets the feeling that his idea of the pursuit of a simple life will still be one that is very well upholstered). Thomas has taken it upon himself to read Edward’s letters to him and  together with Sybil is helping him to adjust to living life with a different set of parameters. But growing pressure on the hospital’s limited capacity means that he is to be transferred elsewhere. All three voice their dissent at varying volumes to Major Clarkson who falls back on the very real backlog of wounded men. After Edward has died, Major Clarkson, Isobel and Sybil talk about a renewed need for the Abbey to become a convalescent home, an idea that has been bubbling under the surface for a while now. Meanwhile, Thomas has been left on his own to process both Edward’s death and the implications of witnessing a lack of support given by his own physician to those with depression.  

The usually reliably jovial Mrs Patmore also has a more somber episode with her pursuit for the truth about the death of her nephew Archie. Robert finds that he has been shot for cowardice. Not only does this mean that her family is in mourning but they will now have to navigate the stigma and undue shame that came with having a relative die in this way. So entrenched in British life was the derision levelled at those who were shot for cowardice or desertion that it was only in 2006 that pardons were offered by Britain for 309 of those that were executed by firing squad during WW1. I know I said I’d leave it there with the military history, but that felt like an important bit of context. 

We are now in 1917 and Matthew is still in the same trench that he was in 1916 (a detail I hadn’t actually noticed until I got the screen cap for this) so it looks like his strategy of downing tools mid-fight and continuously popping back to Blighty for important plot developments isn’t really paying dividends. Perhaps the addition of William to the ranks will help him? William certainly seems to think so and if the speed at which he moves through the various stages of his ‘relationship’ with Daisy is any indication of his tactical prowess, the British Front will not only be well within Germany’s borders but will be breathing down Russia’s neck in a fortnight. In any other episode, this would certainly get the award for oddest relationship dynamic but Sir Richard Carlisle exists. 

Sir Richard makes his debut at Downton, having been introduced in name only in the previous episode. He and Mary met at Cliveden which is a regular haunt of mine, giving me hope that one day I too will from a strategic alliance with a newspaper magnate. He may know how to talk his way around a boardroom but he is lacking in the sartorial department. Whilst Sir Richard manages to avoid catching fire in his tweed, Lavinia is not free from the heat as he threatens her with his connection to her uncle. He may not know much about navigating the niceties of Downton, but at least he has cottoned on to the fact that any major disagreement should occur under a specific tree. Whilst Mary’s signature move is weeping into her gloves, Sir Richard’s is grabbing women by the forearm. A female friend of mine told me that one of her favourite things about the pandemic and the compulsion to keep 2m away from anyone (and not just emotionally) is that she has not been ’steered’ by a male hand on her lower back since 2019. It turns out that she can enter and exit rooms just fine on her own and I get the impression that Lavinia could get the gist of Sir Richard’s rage without the vice like grip of a man probably about twice her age. 

Twinned with the ’tree of emotional conflict’, the ‘platform of romantic uncertainty’ provides the backdrop for Sir Richard’s proposal of marriage to Mary which is a declaration that really feels like it should come with a series of well-formatted charts. Mary’s heart, however, is still very much with Cousin Matthew. After being counselled by Carson in a type of conversation I cannot imagine her ever having with her father, she is on the verge of coming clean with Matthew. But in the second round of Lavinia vs. Mary, Lavinia declares that she ‘could not go on living’ without Matthew and Mary winds her neck in. 

Also having a romantic entanglement this episode is Edith. Drake, previously of dropsy fame, has lost his farm hands and Edith turns up to offer her help in a wildly unsuitable trouser and heeled boot combo. But she soon gets down to it by pulling up a tree stump and flirting in a barn whilst a rather lovely border collie looks on (I’m currently trying to talk myself out of getting a border collie and this incident has done nothing to help things). After showing Drake that she can drink from a bottle like literally every single other human on the planet, the two share a kiss and some highly awkward dialogue that only slightly resembles ‘Carry on Downton’. 

Whilst Edith is more than happy to crack on in a barn, Mr Molesley is much more backwards about coming forwards. Apparently having predicted the creation of ‘The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society’, he figures that a book is the perfect kindling for romance when you exist in a glossy depiction of the past. Sadly neither Elizabeth nor her German garden can lure Anna from Bates who is fast shaping up to be schrodinger’s boyfriend. Anna proceeds to make some odd analogy where she compares Mr Bates to her moon-based child, revealing a rather unhealthy amount of codependency in that particular relationship. 

Romantic declaration of the moment 

Again, it feels like anyone but Sybil and Branson should get this but I am an agent of chaos and here we are. Branson defends Sybil’s will to work and has ample opportunity to see her shine in her chosen field. The admission that she will not be returning to her old life is a little chink of light that Branson basks in. 

Expressive eyebrow of the week 

I nominate Carson’s entire face when he realises that he has taken on too much and goes an impressive shade of red. As Carson frets about spoons, sauce, and something I can’t quite fathom, he starts to resemble a man who is re-arranging the deckchairs on the Titanic. Carson’s battle to get a cork out of a bottle and knocking into chairs is a warm up to his rather dramatic collapse which is accompanied by a pretty disturbing groan. Sybil springs to action and he is soon efficiently ensconced in his own quarters. 

Wait, what? 

“I got a lot done on the train” Clearly Richard was on a train that was unencumbered with the wifi issues that plague the Pendolino.  

“It takes a good deal more than that to shock me.” Mary’s shock-o-meter is a pretty odd instrument. It is unresponsive to corpses of diplomats but goes into absolute meltdown at the notion that she might have to live in a cottage. 

“Let's hope my reputation will survive it.” I’ve not checked (and I categorically never will) but I would put money on the fact that someone has created a rarepair out of this. 

“How can Matthew have chosen that little blonde piece?” Is Lavinia blonde? Women’s hair is not really my forte but I would have thought she was more akin to Tim Minchin than 1998 Justin Timberlake. 

“I believe in this war. I believe in what we are fighting for.” William seems to have a better grip on what all of this is about than I ever did in high school history. The ‘A’ that eluded me is heading his way. 

“I thought he might've died for love of you.” How I love snipey Thomas. It’s good to have him back. To borrow a quote from Bottas (another man who is currently living a life in which his destiny is his own demise) ‘traditions’. 

“Fold it in, don’t slap it” The more season two goes on, the more I think that Moira is just an amalgamation of some choice elements of Julian’s kingdom. 

[azucanela]

HOME PT. 1 | ZUKO

HOME MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: In which Zuko has a chance to go home.

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

WARNINGS: blood, weapons, fights, death threats

A/N: we love zuko in this house, also send stuff into my ask box im bored and need ideas to write kashdkfkjasdhlf 

When Zuko was banished, it seemed that Ozai was more upset that Y/N intended to go with him, than at the pain he had caused his son. She was a talented firebender, capable of defeating even Azula, his prodigal daughter, in an Agni Kai. Her tactics and strategies, despite her young age, proved effective time and time again. She had the makings of a great General for the Fire Nation Army, and Ozai saw it as a waste for her to search for someone who would likely never be found. Not when Y/N L/N had so much potential. 

Y/N just saw it as proof that Ozai never truly cared for his son. His recognition of the impossible task he had bestowed upon his own child.

At the end of the day, her loyalty lied with the prince, so she set sail alongside him and his Uncle, in search of an avatar that had been gone for a century. They had known each other since they were children, when Ozai had taken interest in her natural talent for firebending. She had been raised alongside Zuko and Azula, training with them. But as most knew, Azula had an affinity for inflicting pain to those around her in her free time, so when the time came for a sparring match between Y/N and Azula, the results were deadly.

Ozai decided Y/N would stick around a little longer when she managed to beat Azula that day.

Zuko had never been competitive, not like Azula was. Though he’d asked her for tips on how to improve, and she’d graciously assisted him. And so, a friendship blossomed in the fire of their youth. She became his sparring partner, and as they grew older, his right hand.

She never regretted stepping onto the boat with Zuko the first day of his banishment. But she was beginning to regret ever speaking with him in the first place. He had no goal other than finding the Avatar, it was his sole purpose at this point, even after nearly three years of searching. But there were moments in which she found him rather… peaceful. He was almost the same boy who Y/N had played tag with as a child all those years ago. And in these moments, when she caught a glimpse of the real Zuko, she couldn’t help the warmth that blossomed in her chest each time they had an actual conversation. 

One that wasn’t about his never ending quest to find the Avatar.

The conversations they had in the middle of the night, when sleep failed to reach them. The ones they never mentioned when the night was over. Because what happened in Zukos’ room at night, stayed there.

Y/N had only ever needed to knock once and Zuko was opening the door to his room on the ship. She gave him a tight lipped smile as she slipped inside, hoping no one noticed because they both knew what it would look like from an outside perspective. Not that she cared what others thought. What happened between her and Zuko was their business, though nothing ever really happened. He would try to make tea, they would dump the tea because of how bad it tasted, Y/N would remake the tea, and then they would talk.

Sometimes she wished it was more than that though. 

It was a foolish dream to have, she recognized that as she took the teapot before he could even make an attempt to boil the water. “You couldn’t sleep either?” She asked as she began to heat the water with her firebending, holding the pot above her free hand.

Zuko scoffed, sitting back on the mat he referred to as a bed, “no, I just knew you’d be awake.” 

Y/N frowned, “you should’ve gone to bed.” She places the tea leaves into the steaming pot, moving to sit with her legs crossed, across from him on the floor.

“And put the entire ship at risk?” Came his response, his brow raised. 

Y/N laughed lightly, “what are you talking about?” Her head tilts as she looks at him in confusion, grabbing the two solitary teacups on his desk. 

“Last time you were left unattended you nearly blew up our only means of transportation.” He deadpanned. 

She rolled her eyes, looking to him as she spoke, “that was one time-”

Zuko was smiling now, “remember the time you nearly killed that man with a cabbage cart because he-” 

“Okay! I get it, you can stop now.” Y/N exclaimed, cheeks warming as she recalled the event. She handed him his cup of tea, and for a moment she could even forget that the only reason that they were on the ship in the first place was to find the Avatar, for a moment she could forget that Zuko had changed 

His hand grazed hers as he took the cup, mumbling a small, “thank you,” before he took a sip. Looking out the small window of the ship, he realized he would never forget his banishment. His home. He quickly brought his attention back to Y/N, only to realize she was already looking at him. 

She brought herself closer to him on the floor, “what are you thinking about?” She recognized the look on his face, the nostalgia, the pain. 

If he was honest, he was now thinking about the small amount of space between them since she’d moved to be seated beside him on the mat. Though he responded, “home.” 

Y/N hummed in response, taking a sip of her tea, “you miss it?” She asked.

Zuko scoffed, “that’s a dumb question. Of course I miss it. Why wouldn’t I?” Y/N was tempted to tell him that he shouldn’t miss the home that cast him aside for thinking of the best interest of the people. The home that was ruled by the man who scarred him for life. The man he still seeked validation from. 

Instead she shrugged, placing her tea onto the floor of his room, “well I don’t.”

His head snaps up, eyes meeting hers, he looks to her incredulously, “what do you mean you don’t? We’ve been away for so long!” He exclaims, his temper beginning to show. It was rare for him to explode at her like he tended to with other crew members, Iroh had pointed it out to him, and though Zuko shut him down quickly, nobody could deny the accuracy of the statement. But they had grown up there, together. All of his happy memories, all of his dreams, his past and hopefully his future, were all there. Had that all meant nothing to her?

“The Fire Nation was never my home, Prince Zuko.”

He almost flinches when she uses his title. And she quickly changes the subject, though she can feel it lingering in his mind as they have their tea. 

She ended up falling asleep in his cabin after they talked for the rest of the night, awakening in the room she internally groaned, knowing what it would look like when she set foot outside of his room. Being on this ship for so long, she knew her fellow crewmates were looking for some gossip to spice up their lives a bit. Looking around, Y/N realized he wasn’t there. She brought a hand up to rub her temple she sighed when she sat up, deciding she’d go back to her room and get dressed before heading up to the deck.

They’d been coasting around Earth Kingdom waters that recently been put in Fire Nation control, and as she entered the deck of the ship, Y/N realized they had docked on one of the piers. The sea of people around the market made her wonder what the area could have to offer as she turned to look back on the deck, where Iroh had been seated with his Pai Sho board, along with several other crew members loitering in the area. “Good morning Iroh,” she said with a smile as she made her way towards him, “do you happen to know what we’ll be doing today?”

He smiled up at her, gesturing for her to take a seat as he responded, “well Prince Zuko was not very pleasant this morning, so perhaps something more violent.” He took the teapot on his side, “you should probably go look for him before my nephew does something unwise.” Iroh explained with a sigh, refilling his cup. 

Y/N gave him a tight lipped smile, suddenly grateful she hadn’t gotten comfortable and taken a seat when he’d offered it, “of course. He likely intends to do something irrational and stupid.” She cracked her knuckles, aggressively securing her dagger at her side as annoyance bubbled up inside her, “I’ll see you later Iroh.” 

She decided that if thugs hadn’t attacked him yet, she would, stepping off the ship and into the crowd. She slipped between the people with ease, making her way to some of the stands, shopkeepers yelling out deals as they tried to sell some of their products.

And then Y/N got distracted. It started out with a new dagger for her growing collection, then a new holster for said dagger which was now strapped to her leg along with the weapon. Would you look at that, with all this new stuff she was getting she’d definitely need a bag to carry it. Right? Right. Then it was some rare tea leaves for Iroh and new cookbook for the chef that lived on the ship, though it only served as a reminder that she was yet to eat. 

Making her way towards the part of the market that specialized in foods, the aroma filled her nose. Holding the strap of the bag tighter as she maneuvered through the busy market as she’d spotted a stand with a variety of foods. Y/N inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet smell as she reached the stand before picking out what she wanted to purchase. In the corner of her eye she saw cabbages and couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto her face. Bringing out her small pouch of money, she went to hand the shopkeeper some coins, but the old woman shook her head.

“The young man over there paid for your things already Miss.” She explained, “scary guy. Just shoved this bag of money at me and told me to keep the change while you were on the other end of the stand shopping.” Though she ended up pointing in the direction of this elusive ‘young man,’ Y/N already knew who it was as she turned around and saw Zuko brooding against a wall in one of the emptier parts of the market.

She sighed, “thank you ma’am. Have a nice day.”

The old woman nodded, and Y/N put the foods into her bag as well, grateful for the variety of pockets within it as she made her way to where Zuko stood. “She had cabbages. I’m shocked you didn’t attack her.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes, “where have you been all morning?” She pulled two of the bite-sized pastries she’d bought from the old woman, handing one to Zuko that he begrudgingly accepted as they began to walk down the empty street before taking a bite out of her pastry.

“Around.” Came Zuko’s response as he ate the small pastry. “I just wanted to browse the marketplace.” Y/N took another bite of her pastry as she listened, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. 

She scoffed, “Zuko, I swear.” They were entering a plaza, with a fountain in the center, “it’s my job to know where you are. I’m here to make sure you don’t die during your search for the Avatar, because I’m your right hand, remember?” She exclaimed, hoping he hadn’t noticed that she got side tracked in her search for him,

“You were my right hand. At home. Not that it was your home.” He corrected her pointedly. It was quickly becoming clear that her statement had bothered him, and he wasn’t going to let this go. 

She looked at him incredulously, throwing what was left of her pastry at his chest, causing him to roll his eyes and throw what was left of his own at her face, though she dodged it. Y/N raised her brows, taken aback by this statement and action. He continued to walk as she stopped, dead in her tracks, “oh, is that what this is about? Because if you wanna talk about that we can-” A deep exhale escaped her, followed by silence. 

Zuko’s brows furrowed, “what? Don’t wanna finish the sentence?” He asked as he turned around, only to find that she had a knife pressed to neck, and was surrounded by a group of men.

Of course it had been thugs.

One of them reached to the pouch on her side, yanking it from its place on her belt while the other looked up to Zuko, “you’re going to give us your money, or your little girlfriend is gonna die.” He threatened, pressing the knife harder onto her neck, drawing blood.

Inhaling sharply, Y/N managed to let a bitter laugh escape her despite the situation, “in case you didn’t notice, we had just been arguing. I doubt he has a problem with my death at this point.”

Zuko glared at her, “could you shut up for one minute?” He exclaimed.

“Oh, I think I’m about to be shut up permanently but okay Zuko.” She replied, a sarcastic smile on her face as he narrowed his eyes at her.

He quickly returned his attention to the thugs, who had exchanged looks due to the strangeness of the exchange they were witnessing. “Here’s what’s actually going to happen. You are going to let her go, and if you don’t, you’re going to die.” 

The man with a knife against her throat laughed, “and how are you gonna manage that?” He asked, his four companions moving forward to form a circle around Zuko, weapons in hand. “We’ve got the upper hand.”

“Well, I’m not going to kill you. My little girlfriend will. And,” Zuko paused, eyeing the men surrounding him as he cracked his neck, “you don’t have the upper hand. Not while I have Y/N.”

The man was about to speak when a dagger suddenly pierced his leg, causing him to yelp in pain, dropping the knife he’d held into Y/N’s free hand. She threw the blade in Zuko’s direction and he caught it with ease as he dodged one of the men that lunged at him. 

Y/N kicked her captor’s injured leg, causing him to fall to the ground and allowing her to slip her bag off of her shoulder, wrapping the strap around his neck as she rammed the hilt of the dagger onto his head, effectively knocking him unconscious. Turning around to assist Zuko, she had a deadly realization.

One of the men was missing. 

Everything happened rather quickly after that, she extended her hand, preparing to begin firebending at the man that was attempting to sneak up behind Zuko, except no fire came out. Instead, a whip of water extended from the fountain, slamming him into a nearby building. 

The other three men exchanged looks, stopping their movements momentarily, then taking a few steps back before breaking into a sprint in the opposite direction.

Y/N was still staring at her hand in shock, though her eyes soon rose to find Zuko staring at her as well, the look in his eyes unreadable. A shaky breath escaped her, “guess that conclude your search.” She swallowed nervously, squeezing her eyes shut as she continued, “you can go back home now.” 

“We should get back to the ship.” Came his response. “You need medical attention.” Moving towards her, she took a step back.

“Zuko-”

“You aren’t the Avatar, Y/N.” He stated firmly.

“Really?” She exclaimed, disbelief clear in her voice, “because it sure does look like I am. No one else is capable of bending more than one element!” She pointed out. 

Zuko shook his head, “the Avatar is an Airbender. You were born and raised in the Fire Nation.” He rationalized. “It’s not possible for you to be the Avatar, even if the Airbender is dead, the next Avatar would be from one of the Water Tribes.” Zuko opened his mouth to continue speaking but Y/N cut him off.

“Zuko.” Her voice came out as a whisper. “What are you doing?” 

In that moment he is silent, and she wonders if he’s reconsidering his choice. In actuality, a million thoughts are running through his mind, maybe he could fake her death? Tell them that she died in this town, let her live out her life in peace while he continued a false search for the Avatar. Maybe this was a fluke, or there was a Waterbender hiding in the shadows that saved their lives. Or maybe he was in denial.

The only thing he was sure about was that Y/N wasn’t going back to the Fire Nation a prisoner. 

“Protecting the only home I have left.” 

Because sometimes home isn’t a place. It’s a person. 

You can imagine their shock when they discovered the last Airbender.

a/n: are there two avatars? maybe. is the reader a dual bender? maybe. will we ever find out? idk

[boxofbadaddiction]

All I Wanna Do is Make Love to You

Song Inspired

Fred Weasley x Reader

George Weasley x Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Sexual References. Swearing. War. Angst with a happy ending.

War was fast approaching. People were running scared, others disappearing at random. Everyone was on edge and looking for something, anything, to bring comfort. Something to distract themselves, even if only for a moment, from the horror of their reality.

For [Y/N] and Fred, that comfort was found in one another.

The night before the battle saw members of the Order organising, coming together to discuss possible strategies in the fight to come. Following a particularly gut wrenching speech from Lupin about "preparing for the inevitable", which everyone knew from the look of his eyes he meant the unavoidable deaths that will occur, the room fell silent.

Fred and [Y/N] turned their attention to one another as if in slow motion. Frightened and teary-eyed expressions mirrored by the other. It was the first time she had ever seen him so vulnerable. As members began to disperse Fred reached his hand out for her to take. Not a word was spoken as the two ascended the staircase of the home currently being used as Headquarters for the Order, finding refuge in a room Fred had occupied for the past three nights.

Releasing her grip on his hand [Y/N] entered the dimly lit space first as Fred closed the door gently behind him, leaning his weight back against it. He watched her as she turned back to meet his gaze.

[Y/N]s chest began to rise and fall as panicked breaths took over, shoulders shuddering as tears pooled in the corner of her eyes. Appearing as the embodiment of sorrow itself. Freds head fell to the side sadly as a defeated breath escaped his throat. Heart aching at the sight.

In an instant the two were closing the space between them, lips crashing in a frantic kiss. His hands came to the nape of her neck and hers bunched in the fabric of his shirts collar.

Tongues entwining hungrily as their hands began to roam the others body, discarding various articles of clothing in their wake.

Slowly stepping backwards [Y/N] began blindly leading them towards the bed, stopping momentarily to kick away their pants that'd slung around their ankles.

Fred seized the moment to take control, lifting [Y/N] with a firm grip to her ass from the ground. Her legs immediately wrapping around his waist and arms wrapping around his neck. Fred collapsed the pair onto the bed hovering mere millimetres above her as they proceeded to rid the other of their final items of clothing.

Freds mouth traced her entire body as if mapping her every detail with his lips.

Their bodies entwined and writhed together in perfect sync. Soft moans, gasping breaths and declarations of love filled the thick air. They cherished every movement, every taste and sound shared by the other as if they had an eternity to do so. Though it very well felt like nothing more than borrowed time.

That night suddenly seemed like a lifetime ago as [Y/N] stood pale and cold before the gathered Weasley family who mourned the loss of their son, brother and best friend. Whilst she denied the fate of her lover laid before her.

Soft gasps and declarations of her lost love were the only sounds to peirce the thick polluted air as she crumpled in front of his body. Tears pouring from her eyes at the sight.

The moment replayed in her mind every second of her days. His lifeless form plaguing more than just her dreams. It plagued her entire existence. It was too much to bare. Not knowing where to turn next [Y/N] responded in the only way she could think to.

She ran.

There was nothing left for her there. Nothing but heartache and pain and the tormenting memory of what had once been. She left for her home country, with no intention of ever returning.

But fate had other ideas.

11 years later found [Y/N] wandering the streets of Diagon Alley. It was just as it always had been, before the war. Shops bustling with the life of families searching for their various books and essentials for the beginning of a new school year. She were delighted to see so many of the original stores that were destroyed during the second war restored to their former grandeur. As she strolled through the crowed street gazing through the display windows, she was brought back to her old days. Back to all those school years when she'd come to collect her books and supplies. Mind running with itself through the many memories of her youth blissfully unaware of the busy bodies of people around.

Until...

"[Y/N]?!" a tall redheaded man barrelled through the street towards her.

"George?!" She found herself suddenly wrapped tight within his arms, it felt just like it always had. It felt warm and safe. Like being home. [Y/N] hadn't seen him since the war. She hadn't seen anyone. Right now she were struggling to see reason why, well more how, she'd stayed away. God, had she always missed him this badly?

"What are you doing here?" [Y/N] asked, finally breaking the hug though somewhat reluctantly.

"Well, the shop's back up and running so I'm living down the street again. It's my day off though so I'm out scoping for new ideas." He said smiling. "But what about you? I haven't seen you in years now suddenly you're here, what gives [Y/L/N]?" He playfully pushed her shoulder.

"I'm shopping. No better place to after all" the girl winked.

Laughing he kept looking at her like she'd come back from the dead. Though given the way she had disappeared after the Battle I guess to him it was like she had.

"Merlin, there's so many questions on my mind right now. Just...oh God, how have you been? Where Have you been!?" His eyes were searching her face. For what, she didn't know.

"Oh ah...well I mean, I've been okay. I moved back home after...everything." her expression was solem at the memory of the war. His, sympathetic and understanding.

"Ya know" he took a step closer to his old friend "last I checked that 'home' you always talked about was in a different bloody country! So you obviously aren't here just 'shopping'." She was unable to control the blush which spread across her features, brought on by the mischief he had painted over his face, trying to goad the truth from her. She bit her lip trying to hold back a smile. Damn that Weasley charm!

"So, come on, don't keep me hanging here. What have you been up to?"

"Well actually I ah..."

"MUM!"

Both turned in the direction of the call from a young boy, one with incredible [Y/E/C] eyes and firey red hair.

"MUM! did you see they have the new Windbreak on display in Quality Quidditch Supplies!?"

"No, I didn't sweety" she could feel Georges eyes on the both of them but was too scared to face him. Knowing the question that was going to be on his face when she did.

"Can I go to the Magical Menagerie now to pick my Owl?"

"Of course. I'll meet you there shortly, be safe."

The boy hurried off through the busy crowd once more. Disappearing from sight.

[Y/N] turned slowly back to see George staring after her son. Mouth agape, twitching slightly as he tries to find the words to say something. Anything. It can't be? He looked so much like...surely that's not...

"George?" She asked tentatively reaching slowly to touch his arm.

He shook his head trying to break free of his trance.

"So you're ah...you're a mother. Wow that's...how old is he?" He turned his gaze to hers.

Heart beating fast in her chest a tightness formed in her throat.

Offering a weak smile as her eyes start to turn red she replied, "He'll be 11 in a few short months. He just received his Hogwarts letter."

"Wow that's..." the pieces were falling into place behind his eyes as he looks back to where the young boy had ran off. "11?" He turns back to the mother, disbelief and a little anger evident all through his expression.

"George..." she took a step toward him but he moved away from the touch.

"[Y/N], tell me he's not..."

Tears were filling her eyes now as she noticed his had begun to turn just as red. Fighting back tears. He knows the answer, aside from the eyes, he was the spitting image of his father. Of himself. But he still needs to ask.

"He is, George." Tears finally spilling over and rolling down her cheek she watched him, chest aching at the confession.

"11 years and you never thought to tell us? You never thought I'd...that'd we'd...for Merlin's sake, [Y/N]! He's.." over come with emotion George's breathing had become rapid. He's angry and panicking he keeps looking between her and where the boy ran to. He's crying, running his hands frantically through his hair as he desperately tries to make some sense of this situation. 11 years. For 11 years he's had a nephew. For 11 years she hid the truth from his family. For 11 years she hid the last remaining part of Fred from them. From him. How can he begin to process this?

"George, please, I'm so sorry I didn't...I couldn't..." she were clinging to any excuse that rushed through her head. Fighting for a reason good enough to justify the decision not to tell anyone, but she couldn't. She knew she was wrong, and now could see just how badly, it was all over George. In his tears and the whites of his knuckles and the emotion fighting on his breath. She'd never even been able to convince herself after more than a decade of arguing between heart and mind. So how could she possibly convince him now?

"I'm sorry, I panicked! I thought it was the right thing at the time!" Not a lie, but definitely not a good enough defence.

"The war was over, Fred was gone and I found out I was pregnant only a week later. What was I supposed to do!?"

"You were supposed to trust us!" George was nothing but angry now. He was looking at her with such rage in his eyes it terrified her. He began shouting as he approached. [Y/N] was shaking and walking backwards.

"You were supposed to know that we're family! We always had been, even before you had his baby. We would have helped you. Cared for you. Cared for him! I mean for Gods sake [Y/N] he's the only piece of Fred left on this fucking planet and you hid him from us!"

"George please, I'm so sorry just...just please stop yelling." Her hands were out in defence as she gazed over to the group of passers by whom had stopped to view the scene currently unfolding before them. People were watching, silently asking if she needed help. He looked around, realising he needed to calm himself. She grabbed his hand as he looked away, trying to control his breathing. She'd never seen George so upset. He was usually the most understanding and level-headed of the pair. This side of him scared her, and she hated herself for bringing it out from him.

"Hey..." she spoke, barely in a whisper, reaching to stroke the arm of his hand which she were holding.

"What's his name" George interrupted, still not daring to look to her.

She smiled softly.

"His name's Marcos. From-"

"Your uncle." George nodded. "The one who raised you. I remember him." A strain was evident in his voice as he tried to move the conversation forward without losing his temper.

"He has a middle name." [Y/N] blurted out. "He ah...he has a middle name."

He finally looked down at her. His mouth clamped so tight it was a thin line. "Mmhmm. Yeah, alright. What is it?"

"It's George." She smiled at him. "It was Fred's idea. He used to joke about us getting married and growing old. Whenever he spoke about children there was one name that always came back to him. He said he wanted to name one after you..." he was crying again, head bowed while silent sad laughter shook through his shoulders. She moved to stand infront of him. One hand gently stroking the side of his cheek as his hands traced circles on her arms. "He said it'd drive your Mum mad, having two of you around the house, and thought that was exactly the way it should be." He laughed and they embraced each other, Georges head resting against the crook of her neck.

"I'm so sorry George. I should never have kept any of this from you. From your family."

"Our family" he corrected. "You're apart of us too. Just like he is." He finished standing straight once again but never letting go completely.

"I promise I'll tell everyone. I'll do it tomorrow. I should never have kept him from you. Nor you from him. I was stupid to think I was alone in this. I know you're all what's best for him. And I'm going to mend my mistake. I don't expect anyone to greet me with open arms. And I know this will take time to win you all back, but it's the right thing to do."

George was looking with nothing but cherish in his eyes. He was devastated yes, to say the least. But he had to look past that now. He had his best friend back, and what's more, he has a nephew! He is an Uncle! And he had 11 years worth of pranks and mischief to make up for, he wasn't about to waste a second.

"Can I meet him" he asked, trying not to sound as eager as he was feeling.

"Of course."

"The menagerie wasn't it? He was going to?" He said as they began walking.

"Oh, yes but there's not a chance in the world that's where he's gone." She smiled knowingly. George furrowed his brows at the comment. [Y/N] led him on through the crowds in Diagon Alley. Past the Broom store, past Olivanders, past the Magical Menagerie. All the way down to the bright and lively store of number 93, Weasley Wizard Wheezes. George began to laugh.

"You're not serious?"

"It's safe to say he has inherited his Father, and Uncles talent for mischief." She winked opening the door.

The store was crowded, but she knew him better than anyone and knew exactly where he'd be.

"Your store is his favourite you know?"

George smiled trying to see over the crowd of people within the store to catch a glimpse of him.

"His favourite section..." she pointed over her shoulder with a grin. "...fireworks." grasping his hand and pulling George along behind her.

True to form, that's exactly where he was. Startled by his Mothers sudden appearance, and the stern smiling expression on her face the boy hid two boxes, of what no doubt were the biggest and most uncontanable fireworks the Twins had created, behind his back feigning innocence.

"Oh! Mum! I ahhhh...I'm glad you found me, you see I couldn't seem to find the menagerie and I got a bit lost amongst all the people so I ahhh...i just sort of ducked in here to ummm"

"Save it, Marcos." She raised her hand and chuckled. George was beaming, he was just like Fred, although hadn't quiet perfected his lying ability yet. At the moment it was about as strong as his mothers...aka patheticly weak.

[Y/N] crouched down in front of him and Marcos let his hands fall by his sides as he bowed his head in defeat "I'm done for aren't I?"

"Not this time", Marcos head rocketed up to stare awestruck into her eyes. Surely he hadn't heard that properly?

"Marc, I'd like to introduce you to someone...the man I was talking to earlier."

The boy looked up behind his mother and his eye's widened. "You're the owner of the store! I hadn't realised before not with...you know, you not being near that giant bust of yours out front..." George laughed. "But Mum...how ever do you know him!?" He was near shaking with excitement as he stared back at his mother.

"Well sweety, there's-" she was interrupted as a small group of people entered the firework section.

"Perhaps you'd like to do this upstairs [Y/N], away from interruptions that is" George whispered in her ear. "We can use the flat" he said standing back against the wall he'd leaned on when they'd entered.

"Yes that would be best I think. Come on Marc, just follow George alright." Marcos was becoming increasingly worrisome. This whole scene screamed seriousness. Something he didn't care for at all, he much preferred to stay joking and happy. Another trait he'd unknowingly inherited from his Father.

They climbed the winding stairs of the Twins store into the flat where George shut the door behind them.

"Make yourself comfortable" he ushered towards the couch. "Anything to drink?" "No thank you, George" "how bout for you little man?" "Can I have a fire whiskey?" George laughed as [Y/N] looked sternly at her son. "Nevermind. I'm all good." He slouched down into the couch cushions.

Resuming her position from earlier the Mother kneeled before her son, and grasped his hands in hers whilst George stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets behind them. Head hung slightly.

"As I was saying, there's something I've needed to tell you. Something I should never have kept from you in the first place and it's time you knew." She took a deep breath. "George here well...we went to school together. We were very close."

"Well, what happened?" Marcos asked confusedly. "You hardly ever mention your school days." "I know. And you see...you remember the story I told you when you asked about your Father, Marc?" George became suddenly more alert, he hadn't thought about what she had told him during all of this...he sat on a neighbouring armchair, listening intently.

"You told me he died in the War, as a hero. Saving people." George felt his eyes sting with fresh tears but fought to control himself.

"That's right, honey, and it's true. Your Daddy died a very brave, strong, man. He helped save so many people."

"So what's this got to do with me meeting George?" He asked.

"Well...George here was your Daddy's brother. His twin."

"Really!?" Marcos asked excitedly. "I have an uncle?" He smiled at George.

"Well, more than one." George smirked with a raised brow.

"There's more?" Marcos was on the edge of his seat now "how many more?"

"At least 5." "Woah!" "You also have 3 aunts" George added. "Why haven't I met them? Can we go now!?" Marcos stood enthusiastically looking between the two adults. He was truly a fearless young man. That which his Mother adored.

"Uh no, not right now Marc but I'm hoping" she glanced at George, "sometime this week." "Definitely." He smiled. "So you're what my dad looked like? Mum doesn't have any photos, they were all burned in a house fire." "Well, pretty much, minus an ear of course." He said pointing to his wound.

"Wicked!" He smiled "how'd it happen!?" Marcos was cross legged on Georges coffee table sitting eagerly infront of his newly discovered Uncle. "Marc, that's rude, you can't just ask -" "it's okay, [Y/N]. Really. And I'll be happy to tell you. Everything." George was leaning in nearly as excited as his nephew. "Can you tell me all about Dad?" He asked with a cautious expression. "Like I'd leave him out" he scowled jokingly. [Y/N] had tears in her eyes. Seeing them so happy she couldn't believe that after the War she ran. How could one keep George from him?

Distracted by her own thoughts she hadn't realised her son was patiently waiting an answer to a question he'd asked. "Sorry?" "I said, can I stay with Uncle George tonight?" "Oh..." she looked at George who had the same pleading expression on his face as her son. "Only if it's okay with-" "of course it is!" George stood with a clap of his hands. Marcos was beaming once more at his uncle. "Well then I guess it's okay." The boys high fived excitedly and began to celebrate "BUT!" "here it comes" Marcos rolled his eyes and dropped his head. George looked between the pair slightly confused but ultimately he could guess what was coming.

"I want you on your BEST! behaviour. No mischief!" She scolded "I promise" Marcos pleaded. "See he promises" George wrapped an arm around Marc's shoulders as they both smiled. "The both of you!" She added "...oh." Georges mouth formed a thin line as he looked at [Y/N]. There goes 80% of his plans for the night. Although what she doesn't know wont really hurt her he thought with a smile.

After a while more talking, exchanging stories with George from school and hearing him talk about his newest inventions, as well as answering all questions Marcos had, [Y/N] had decided it was time to let the boys have their night together. Saying goodbye at the door she began yet another warning, having knew these boys too well. "And I mean it you two! Absolutely no! Mischief!" George put a hand on his heart and the other rested on Marcos back. "I solemnly swear" he winked.

Laughing she gave the boys a final hug and began desending the stores stairs when her ears were met with the sound of her sons celebratory cheers and the slap of a high five. Smiling she kept walking till met with the emptiness of Diagon Alley where only few people remained as stores were closing. Casting a loving look to the top window of number 93 she smiled. Everything was going to be okay. She stood contemplating for a moment when the unmistakable flash of fireworks issued from the window and her expression deadpanned. Hadn't been gone 5 minutes. She rolled her eyes. "It's harmless fun" she told herself, going to turn and continue on her way home when the sudden sound of glass breaking and sparks flying pulled her attention back to the top floor window which was now shattered as a firework whizzed down the dark street.

"Awesome!" Came her sons voice in celebration. "MARCOS! GEORGE!" She bellowed. Their heads poked immediately out from the window. [Y/N] threw her arms out wide, brows raised, silently asking the question...

The boys responded in sync "sorrrry Muuumm" "Sorrrry [Y/N/N]" rolling her eyes as she walked off, the firework still in view she laughed to herself.

"We're doomed."

Part II>>

[hewhofightsbythesword]

precious cargo: part two - thomas shelby x Hispanic reader

“Family meeting. Now.” Thomas Shelby called out as he entered the Garrison’s snug.

At the sound of this voice, Aunt Polly could tell her nephew was once again up to no good. But then again when was he not? “Thomas Shelby has had an idea once again. Watch out.”

“Tommy, I’m not doing that again. I will not be made a fool for you. I said the last time was the last time and I meant it,” Finn stood his ground prematurely.

Ada scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. “Jesus Christ, Thomas. What the hell are you doing to our poor Finn?”

“What? No, not that,” Tommy waves off the youngest Shelby brother. “I’ve received a call all the way from America.”

“What the fuck do the Americans want from us, brother? What did you do?” Arthur accuses.

Tommy stands up and rubs his eyes in frustration. “Everyone fucking listen to me. No more interruptions. The sooner we get started, the sooner we can end this family meeting.” Silence filled in the room for a few seconds. “Now, as I was saying: I got a call from America, but it wasn’t the Americans. The Mexican mafia called, and they’re calling in a favor.” A big fucking favor, Thomas thinks to himself.

“You are just the gift that keeps on giving. First the Russians and now the Mexicans.” Polly shakes her head.

“What do we know about them? Can we even trust them?” Arthur asks.

Thomas ignores his aunt. “The Mexican mafia is ruled by the y/l/n family. They go by la familia. Recently, they started several expansions into America. The Don’s people called me some nights ago about his daughter, y/n.”

“y/n y/l/n. I know her,” Michael says.

Tommy doesn’t bother to look at his cousin, slightly annoyed he knew more than he did. “And what is it that our Michael knows that we don’t, eh?” Thomas keeps a stoic stare at the wall in front of him.

“We met during one of my business trips to New York. She recognized our name, said her family owned some businesses near the ones we do. We never kept in touch, but I’ve heard stories about her.”

“What kind of stories?” Ada asked, half afraid for the answer. Just like everyone else in the room, she knew how much her big brother could never resist a challenge that guaranteed some danger. Add in a pretty face and Thomas was lost.

“I hear she’s taking over after Don, not the eldest brother, Santiago.” Arthur feeling this Santiago’s pain from an ocean away stood to pour himself a drink in hopes to mask his suffering.

“And you know what, Tommy?” Michael continued to press him, “She reminded me of you.”

“That’s enough.” Polly places a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Go on, Thomas.”

“She had a run in with some Italians in New York, more specifically Enzo Changretta.” The atmosphere in the room stiffens. “She alone has received the black hand and needs protection.”

“Why have these meetings if you already very clearly have made up your mind?” Polly spits.

“So I can say to all of you that y/n y/l/n is on her way as we speak.” Sounds of disapproval rang out through the snug.

“Fuck, Tommy. This isn’t some backstreet gang. It's the Changretta's. Look around you. John is not here. Michael almost died. You almost died. What can the Mexicans do for us that we can’t already do for ourselves?” The voice of reason called out.

“I have me reasons.” He takes a heavy drag from his cigarette.

“And of course you won’t share what any of them are with any of us.” Ada crosses her arms against her chest.

“La familia are not the kind of people we want to owe favors to, Polly,” he points to her, “It’s better if they owe us. If they owe us, we control the narrative and we have ourselves a new ally. As we all know, allies come in short supply these days.”

“And?” Polly eggs on.

“And they’re fucking rich.” Michael reveals before Tommy can.

“And they’re fucking rich,” Tommy echos, “The y/l/n’s own the majority of their country’s petroleum businesses. They help supply America, except the Italians are now threatened.”

“Who the hell made it your job to play the middleman?”

“It is not my job. It is our investment.” Thomas, having enough of his family’s obvious disapproval, stands up to leave for the night. “y/n y/l/n is coming and we will all protect our investment.”

Over the next few days, all Tommy could think about was you and about your family. He wondered how you would look, how you would talk. Were you any different from the few Americans he has met? Thomas does not recall a time he has met someone from Mexico. You were obviously smart; smart enough to move large amounts of petroleum from your home country to America. His sources told him it was all your doing, all your strategy. He couldn’t help but to think if perhaps Michael was right. Was there some truth to his teasing? She reminded me of you, he remembers.

And of course Thomas Shelby wouldn’t be Thomas Shelby if he didn’t entertain the idea of the y/l/n’s making up a story to take his ever-growing empire. The chances were low, sure, but not zero.

Thankfully Tommy no longer had to torture his mind with any more questions and hypothetical situations about his soon-to-be visitor. Today was the day y/n arrived in Birmingham. His men would be there for your arrival so that they could escort you to Arrow House. Tommy figured only the best for his best investment.

Upon your arrival, the first thing Tommy Shelby noticed about you was your demeanor. You walked in his home with your head high and squared back shoulders. There was not a single trace of worry or fear coming from your face, at least none Tommy could clock. Anyone who could see you would not know there was a mafia hit on your head. But then again, they would also not know you were soon to head your own mafia. When he first heard of you, he didn’t know you were rich. When he did know, he didn’t know exactly by how much. Standing before him, all Tommy knew was y/n y/l/n was rich by a fuck ton. That was just the immediate aura you gave off.

Maids automatically surrounded you, taking your luggage and coat. Even through the crowd surrounding you, your eyes could be found fixating one thing only. Blue. So much fucking blue, you think to yourself. Your eyes never left who you could only assume was Thomas Shelby. And you knew you would not get far in this unfamiliar country with only assumptions. As soon as the crowd cleared up, you decided to take initiative.

“Hello, you must be Thomas Shelby. I’m y/n y/l/n.” He shakes your outreached hand.

“Please, call me Tommy.” His deep voice rings out, demanding to be heard as always.

“Tommy,” you say, trying out the name on your tongue. Tommy kept his eyes on you and no other words were exchanged, a comfortable silence falling upon the two strangers. “Tommy?”

“Yes?” He manages to croak out.

“Do you think I could have my hand back?” Tommy still enveloped his rather large hand in your small one.

Quickly, he drops your hand in embarrassment as if he had just been burned. Tommy couldn’t help but notice the warmth of your palm leaving him rather fast. He has met many rich people. Too many, his Aunt polly would say. But none like him. None like you.  

“Why don’t we go to my office and have a drink. We can talk there.”

Tommy wasn’t one to show any facial expressions, you soon realize, but it was all in his words. It was in that moment you knew Tommy Shelby didn’t like to ask for things, even as simple as a drink. He demanded. In your world full of coke, guns, and sicarios, you were used to being the one to make the demands. Given almost any other circumstance, you would have taken action against it, but not now. Not to Tommy. All your feet could do was follow him.

“Tell me everything leading to the black hand.” He demands again as he hands you a glass of whiskey. “What do the Italians want with you other than have you dead?”

“They want what’s mine,” you simply say as you hand him the black hand letter.

“The petroleum businesses?” He asks. His eyes skim over Enzo’s signature.

“That’s not all. We also deal guns in large quantities to our allies. For the past year or so we’ve moved both the legal and illegal side of our businesses to America. We cross state lines where the Italians reside. At first, we were warned. Didn’t listen. They tried to rough up a few of my men. Didn’t work. None of it will work,” you say that last part a little more to yourself than Tommy.

There was something eerie about receiving the black hand. To you, it was all bad vibes. It was the malo ojo. It carried evil energy and a haunting presence. This was something Tommy knew too. Although he would have different opinions on what it carried, it was all the same feeling in the end: eery.

“Are you armed?” He goes to reach for one of his cabinets behind his desk.

“No, I have men for that. The sicarios do the killing.” He slides the gun across the desk. All you could do was stare at the weapon and so could Tommy. His eyes would switch to the gun, then to you, then back to the untouched gun. “We’re living in modern times, Tommy.”

“You are free to conduct the appropriate business here as long as you have that gun and my men too.”

“I just said I have my own men. I don’t need your Peaky boys following me too. Thomas, it was never about your protection.”

Tommy’s eyebrow slightly rises, starting to feel irritated. The motive was now clear to Tommy. It was never about the Peaky Blinders protection but about the land. The y/l/n’s had the potential of being a superpower to the world because of their oil. If they really wanted to, they could knock a few Italian heads on the way. They just couldn’t do it in America. The American government was so different and so were its people.

The Yankees still believed in their government and what was right and what was wrong. And killing was wrong. The Mexicans were too gruesome, too brutal. All you and your family wanted to do was eliminate the threat, and its name was Enzo Changretta. Mexico would want the whole family, women and children alike. In Birmingham, the cops were dirty; all paid by and loyalty to Thomas Shelby. You knew the value of loyalty, thus you knew the value of Birmingham. It wasn’t a city. It was fucking empire, and in his empire killng was allowed.

“You want to draw them out and kill them on my land.”

You down your drink in one large sip, letting out a soft sigh. “Sometimes, Tommy,” so we’re back to Tommy, “killing is a kindness.”

Michael was wrong. y/n was not like Tommy Shelby. Right then and there, he decided you were an extension to himself. You were Tommy Shelby.

“You are still in clear danger.” He yells out to you as you leave his office and the gun behind.

“And I still prefer my bullets over your razor blades.”

It was never about your protection.

Tag List: @apollonshootafar

[marshmallow-phd]

Healing Touch

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Yixing x Reader

Summary: Medical school abroad was the last line on your to-do list before starting the rest of your life. Everything was going according to plan. Everything, that is, until tragedy strikes your campus. In the wake of a professor’s untimely death, you’re partnered with the cute boy with a breathtaking smile in the newly combined labs. You find yourself unable to resist the dimples and shy glances, but his life is here with no plans of leaving. Will you continue on as planned or will you accept the hand that Fate had dealt you?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Final

**

The smell had not changed in all the years that you used to call this place home. Pinecone potpourri mixed with traditional cooking spices and a hint of citrus from the constant dusting. Your aunt had always been a bit eccentric, a bit off beat. It had made being raised by her both adventurous and anxiety-inducing.

In the privacy of your home, her random dance parties and unfiltered way of speaking made you laugh. But when you were in public and she was pretending to be a mannequin in a window display, you ran away to the food court to hide behind a cup of boba. The explanation was always the same no matter what antics she was pulling: she wanted to break you out of your shell. It seemed like a lost cause. You were comfortable in your shell. It protected you and kept you warm.

“I don’t see how you expect to go trialing off to a place you’ve never been before,” your aunt had complained when you first told her about applying to the far away college.

“They’re two entirely different situations,” you had argued. “I can go to class and go back home without any issues.” These days there was your phone if you ever got lost or in need of food but didn’t want to leave the comfort of your apartment. Modern conveniences only enabled your shut-in ways.

“But what about, you know, friends?” She looked at you over her stylish, cat-eye glasses that she had no use for with her perfect vision.

“I have those,” you insisted. So, you might not have had a best friend, but you had people that you occasionally hung out with and collaborated on. Then there was Victoria and Amber from high school. You still spoke to them regularly, despite them going to different colleges out of the area. Your aunt didn’t realize that not everyone needed multiple circles of friends to bounce between.

Pushing her glasses back up her nose, your aunt pouted. “I just worry about you, that’s all. You still don’t like getting into cars, especially by yourself, and if you happen to be studying late….”

“I don’t mind taking the bus.” A bit of a stretch. You did mind but would still take it if the situation were dire enough. Walking was good exercise. And better for the environment. Someone had to look out for the little bunnies.

“Alright,” your aunt huffed as she sipped on her now lukewarm tea. “It is your life. I’m just a spectator of it.”

“At least you have premium seating,” you teased.

That had made your aunt laugh. She was back to her more carefree self.

“Is that my favorite niece?”

“No, it’s your least favorite nephew.”

Your aunt poked her head out of the hallway, the edge of her pink fuzzy robe telling you that she was getting ready to go out.

That was the exchange the two of you always had when you came to visit. The first time around, you had rolled your eyes and given the sarcastic answer for the cliché greeting. As your mother and aunt were the only siblings in their family and your father was the single offspring from his parents, there were no other nieces or nephews to put above or below you.

Without prompt, your aunt passed through the living room and onto the kitchen. When she came back, she had two wine glasses filled with bubble pink liquid. After handing you the lesser filled glass, she sat down on the couch while you opted for the loveseat, letting your purse drop to the hardwood floor by your feet. Your aunt leaned back on the arm rest with one elbow as she sipped on the wine. “It’s watermelon,” she informed you when you hadn’t taken a drink. “Try it.”

Shaking your head, you did as she asked. Oh, no. It was delicious. That was dangerous. You took another, larger swig before putting the glass down on the coffee table.

Growing up, you’d felt bad for your aunt. Sometimes you still did, though not as much after her many lectures as to why you shouldn’t.

She’d always been the carefree one. As a marketing consultant, she was constantly flying all over the globe, having adventures in between work meetings and bringing those experiences back to you in the form of expensive souvenirs. When your parents volunteered to go help a poorer nation with their health crisis, your aunt was quick to lend her babysitting services. It was only supposed to be temporary, after all. Then tragedy struck

Your parents never came back and suddenly your aunt was now your permanent guardian. The carefree spirit took it in stride. She shifted her strategy to more web-based conferences until you were in high school and able to be on your own for longer periods of time. She never turned into your mother; she never wanted to. For that, you were even more thankful. She was still the spontaneous, forever young aunt that you had always known. That stability in her personality was exactly what you needed. Too much had changed in your world on a dime, the less that was altered the better.

“What prompted this little visit?” she asked, a curious half smile on her lips.

You shrugged. “I hadn’t seen you in a while, so I thought I’d stop by and say hi. It looks like you’re getting ready to go out, though.”

Your aunt waved her hand limply. “Not for a few hours. Besides, anything can wait for you.”

Shifting in your seat, you smiled at the affection she had for you. “I finally heard from the university,” you told her.

Her eyebrows shot up. “You did? They finally decided to stop dangling the carrot and just give it to you, did they?”

“Not exactly,” you cringed. “They said they wanted to see how this semester went and then they would let me know.”

Your aunts face fell into a scowl as if something awful smelling had made its way into her nose. “What sense does that make?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. But at least it’s not an outright no.”

Clicking her tongue, your aunt leaned forward so she was now balancing her elbows on her knees. “You know, there are still other options. Closer options.”

“I know,” you said with a monotone voice. “But Plan A is my focus. I’ll look to other options if that falls through.”

That knowing look you were all too familiar with formed on her face. A long, reminiscing sigh blew out from her lungs. “You are so much like your mother. It’s scary sometimes.”

You never knew how to respond when she said things like that. Should you be happy at the comparison? Sad because your mother wasn’t here to tell you herself? You were a child when your parents passed away. You remembered vague moments, birthday parties and movie nights. But when you’re that young, you don’t get a good idea of your parents’ personalities. You don’t learn what they like or don’t like, how they act in crowds versus a small group of people. You have to rely on the memories of those left behind.

You stayed at your aunt’s house for another hour or so, talking to her about her latest clients and nights out with the girls. You told her how your days were going and how you were adjusting to the new routine with the combined class. The news of Yixing sat on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mention him. Her reaction would have been too predictable.  She’d ask when the two of you were going to go out and when you explained that it wasn’t like that, she would ask why not. For that, you didn’t have an answer.

While you wanted to say that the two of you were just friends, it didn’t feel like the truth.

You saw more of Yixing than of anyone else, including Ran. He would walk you to class multiple times a day and the two of you would talk. Not about anything too deep. You weren’t at that level yet. He was funny and charming, never speaking a word that wasn’t kind. You learned that he lived in farmhouse in the woods with eight other people, all men. He swore it was never too crowded and that he actually enjoyed the company. He got lonely easily.

He also told you about how he took a few years off of college to figure out what he wanted to do. You’d asked him how he came to the path of becoming a doctor. He said he simply wanted to do something that would help people. He thought about opening a low-income clinic once he had his degree. Suddenly your heart was pumping under your sternum. When he asked why you went pre-med, you gave a shrug and said your parents and left it at that. These conversations were usually nice and lighthearted, you didn’t want to be the downer.

Yes, spending time with Yixing was nice, the highlight of your day, sometimes. But he also felt like a secret. One that you should keep to yourself for now. Good things didn’t always last. You wanted to see if this was a long-term investment for him before you invited anyone else in.

The next day, you needed some fresh air, so you decided to take a walk in the nature center on the edge of town. Although the woods would be a no-go area since they still hadn’t caught the animal terrorizing the area, the center would be full of people and should be quite safe. It couldn’t really be considered part of the woods given the infrastructure and the observation building, could it? Deciding to go anyway, you packed your bag with a few notes, snacks, and a water bottle. As your hand landed on the doorknob to leave, your eyes fell on the jacket lying on the back of the couch.

You hadn’t worn the comforting fabric since that day. The weather had been nice and putting it on would have seemed a bit obnoxious in your eyes. But this morning the weatherman had mentioned a chilly breeze. It wouldn’t hurt.

Arms through their designated holes, you left the apartment and started the walk to the outskirts of town. It wasn’t too far of a walk, maybe thirty, forty minutes at the most. You thanked yourself for wearing the jacket. A “chilly breeze” was an understatement. A few families and couples were dotted among the trails of the nature center that wound near and over the small creek. You passed by them all until you came to a spot that was deserted. Resting your legs, you sat on a bench with your back to the trees. The sun was shining up above. The only noise seemed to come from the rustling leaves and trickling creek. It was peaceful, just what you needed.

With your bag beside you, you took out a piece of paper with yesterday’s notes and started to review them. Some of the words were smudged and the edges were already crinkling, but you could make most of it out. The paper flopped in the wind. You thought you had a good enough grip on it, but a gust of air proved you wrong.

The paper went flying over your head and straight for the trees. Panic made you jump up, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you ran after it. The wind – now relentless – was enough to keep the paper continuously out of your reach.

It finally came to a stop when it caught on a tree root sticking out in the ground. You snatched the paper up and stuffed it into the bag to keep it from running away again. Straightening up again, your eyes settled on the horizon.

Then you screamed.

**

Yixing’s eyes snapped open.

He was no longer a wolf. He was human again. Sitting up, he brushed off the leaves from his arms. What time was it? Was it even the same day? He’d blacked out again. At this point, it was almost routine. His only consolation prize being the fact that he was alone. He still needed to figure out what was happening to him. He wasn’t ready to take this to his brothers. There was enough to worry about at the moment.

Getting on his feet, Yixing headed in the direction of where his things were stored. In order to avoid the others wanting to run with him, he’d entered the forest from a different area, storing his things in a bush to get back to later. He flicked his jeans to get the dirt off before pulling them on and then stuffing his feet in his shoes.

A piercing cry for cut through the air.

The hair on the back of Yixing’s neck stood up.

“Help! Somebody help!”

It was your voice.

He gasped. Then he took off. If anything happened to you-

Yixing skidded to a stop when he saw you kneeling in the grass. A body was laying in front of you, the clothes ripped and stained dark. It was lying face down, but Yixing could tell that it was a man and that he’d been attacked.

“(Y/n), what happened?”

You stared at him with wide, confused eyes. “Yixing? What are you doing here?”

He ignored your question, more worried about your own wellbeing. “What happened?” he repeated.

You shook your head as you dropped your eyes to the man lying on the ground. “I don’t know. I just found him like this. He’s still breathing but I’m not strong enough to move him.”

Yixing analyzed the situation. His car was only on the other side of the trees. The man was still alive. From Yixing’s point of view, he could make it, but they needed to act fast. Slipping his arms under the man while careful not to move him too much, he picked the man up and motioned with his head for you to follow.

He said nothing and you asked no questions as the tree line broke. Yixing scanned the parking lot of the nature center until he found his car. He rushed to the vehicle with a few glances over his shoulder to make sure you were keeping up with him.

“(y/n)?”

“Yeah?” You were huffing. Had he been running? He’d tried to go at a pace that you could keep up with.

“In my front right pocket are my keys. Can you fish them out and unlock the doors?”

You nodded. Yixing could feel your fingers trembling as they slipped into the denim opening. The shaking was even more obvious once the keys were free, the house and car keys clinking together as you searched for the fob to unlock the doors. Without prompt, you opened the back door to allow Yixing to slip the man into the bench seat. He told you to get in the front. You tossed him the keys and the two of you rushed to the hospital.

A pair of doctors rushed out of the automatic doors as soon as the car pulled into the emergency entrance.

“We found him in the woods,” Yixing explained. The doctors quickly examined the man as two more nurses came out with a stretcher.

“I think that animal attacked him,” you added.

Yixing’s eyes flickered over to you with worry. The doctors nodded in acknowledgement then helped the nurses move the man to the stretcher. The two of you followed closely but were forced to stay behind in the waiting room. Yixing sat next to you in the uncomfortable plastic chairs that were connected to the wall.

“You never answered the question.”

Yixing frowned. “What question?”

You turned to look at him with your eyebrows furrowed, making him want to reach out and smooth the creases they created. “What you were doing out in the woods.”

Yixing stiffened. He pressed his foot into the tile floor to keep it from bouncing. “I was… hiking.”

“Without a shirt?”

He looked down. Crap. He hadn’t even realized that he wasn’t finished getting dressed before he took off. “I get warm easily.”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. Yixing fought to keep his face neutral. It was a pathetic excuse, he knew it. But you didn’t call him out on it. Instead, you leaned forward, unzipping the polyester bomber that was easily recognizable as his own, taking it off, and holding it out to him.

“I’m fine,” Yixing said, ignoring the jacket.

“You really should put it on. I heard the front desk call the cops. They’ll be here soon, and it’ll look suspicious. What would you tell them the reason was for you not having a shirt?”

A cheeky answer came to mind. Yixing bit down to hold it back, even if it would have caused your face to heat up in an adorable fashion. The instinct of making sure his mate was okay was almost too great to ignore. You were the one who needed to stay warm, stay protected. But you had a valid point. And you were inside, out of the wind. So, he accepted the jacket and ran the zipper almost up to his neck to hide the lack of shirt underneath.

The police arrived about twenty minutes later. They separated you, making him anxious. Over the next hour or so, Yixing gave his side of the story to the officer. They took him at his word that he was strolling through the woods. The doctors had already informed the officers that the wounds were clearly animal made. While severe, they weren’t life threatening. That gave Yixing a small amount of relief.

“Would you two like to see him?” one of the nurses asked another hour later. You nodded eagerly. Yixing stayed a bit behind as the nurse led you through the halls to a large room that held several beds separated by plastic curtains.

The man was awake. Black stitches covered his arms. Three claw marks ran down the left cheek. From what Yixing knew of the other victims, this guy was lucky. He was talking to a nurse when he looked to see who his visitors were. As soon as his eyes landed on Yixing, the heart monitor spiked and his breathing quickened.

“Hey, it’s okay, these are the people who found you,” the nurse said to try and calm him down.

“Oh.” The man’s heart rate started to slow again. Each breath was deeper until they were back to normal. “I’m sorry.”

“How are you feeling?” you asked, taking a step forward. Yixing fought the urge to put himself between you and the man you’d rescued. He was probably harmless, but he had also been through a traumatic situation.

The man nodded. “I’m… alive, at least. Thank you.”

You gave a small smile. “I’m glad I came along when I did. Did you,” you bit your bottom lip nervously, “happen to see what attacked you?”

Yixing held his breath.

“It was a large gray wolf,” the man answered. “Huge. Like a mutated one you would see in the movies. He came from nowhere, knocked me down. I thought I was going to end up like the others as he clawed at me. Then he was gone.”

Yixing’s fist tightened at his side, his throat constricting. He forced down a swallow. He couldn’t panic. Not here.

You frowned. “I wonder what scared him off.”

“Maybe you did?” Yixing said with a slight tease. It was more to keep his own mental state calm than for the benefit of everyone else.

“I’m not that frightening.”

“Whatever it was,” the man shook his head, “I’m thankful.”

“He should really rest now,” the nurse said sternly. Yixing nodded in agreement and, after the goodbyes were given, led you away.

Once outside of the hospital, Yixing stopped you. “I can take you home.”

“That’s okay,” you countered, “I can walk.”

He didn’t like that one bit. Besides, he really needed you by his side right now. “Where do you live?”

“In an apartment near campus.”

No way. “That’s nearly halfway across the city. I can take you. It’s not a big deal.”

You shifted form foot to foot, refusing to meet his eye. “I don’t… really like cars.”

“You made it here alright.”

“That’s because I was too worried about him to think about it. The adrenaline blocked everything out.”

“I’m a safe driver, I promise.”

“I believe you. I just-” You blew air out between your lips, which ended in a growl. It was actually kind of cute. Yixing pushed back a grin. It wasn’t appropriate right now. “My parents were killed in a car crash, so they kind of freak me out.” You sucked in your lips as if you hadn’t meant to reveal that vital information.

Oh. That explained… a lot actually. At least, in terms of what you had been holding back from him. He never wanted to push, but he felt better knowing more about you.

“I understand,” he said sympathetically. “Can I walk you home then? I can come back for my car later.”

You shook your head. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe so. But I need to make sure that you get home safe.”

You weighed his alternative for a minute or so. Yixing kept his patience. He refused to push you farther than you were willing to go. He just needed to see you walk safely into your building and then he would be okay until he saw you again.

“Okay,” you sighed. “You can drive me home.” He could have leapt with joy.

Yixing waited for you to get in the car before sliding behind the wheel himself. The death grip you had on the side handle didn’t escape his notice. He made sure to slow down easily and to take each turn with care. The only words you spoke were to give him directions. It wasn’t until the car was in park outside of your building did you finally relax.

“Thank you,” you told him in a strained voice.

“Any time.”

“I’m sorry if I was a little dramatic. I—” the growl of your empty stomach interrupted your speech. You groaned from embarrassment. Yixing couldn’t help his laugh.

Knock, knock, knock.

Leaning over and looking through the passenger window of his car was a strange girl Yixing had never seen before. He rolled down the window barely enough to be able hear what she was saying.

“How the hell did you get (y/n) into a car?” the girl gasped. You visibly cringed in the seat, sinking down a few inches.

Yixing blinked, unsure of how to respond. “Um, I—”

“Yixing, this is my roommate, Ran,” you interrupted, saving him. “Ran, this is Yixing. We have class together.”

“Oh!” The inclination behind her exclamation was more than obvious. And Yixing didn’t object to it. “I just ordered pizza and I know (y/n) usually gets hungry around this time. Do you want to join us?”

You flashed your roommate a panicked look, but Yixing couldn’t resist the opportunity. “That sounds great.” He caught you flinching, so he added, “As long as (y/n)’s okay with it.”

“Yeah,” you relented. “It’s the least I could do. For the ride.” You flashed an annoyed glare at Ran before getting out of the vehicle.

Yixing shouldn’t be this elated as he nearly sprung from the driver’s seat. He walked around the car slowly and let you and Ran lead the way, in case you changed your mind. You didn’t, thankfully, and Yixing walked up to your door with anticipation so great that he almost was able to forget what the man had said back at the hospital.

Almost.

[elriel-sparkleshadow]

A SNOWBALL WAR - SHORTFIC

I liked the idea that @mrspettyferr have. So I write a shortfic. Hope you like it! ps: English is not my first language, be kind Couples decide to play the famous snowball war in pairs: Feyre / Rhys, Nesta/ Cassian, and Elain / Azriel. They just didn't count that Elain and Azriel would have a big advantage since she foresees the proposal in time for them to formulate a strategy and they are both very good at moving in silence.

Azriel was sitting on the chair when Elain came into the room and slid into his lap. A smile on her lips like a promise of secrets. She had run to the kitchen as soon as they landed at the river house, dying to talk to her friends Nuala and Cerridwen. They hadn't had a chance to talk much since Elain moved permanently to the townhouse with Azriel.

Nesta and Cassian had not yet arrived from the house of wind and Rhys and Feyre were upstairs putting Nyx to sleep. Just the cauldron as known where Mor, Varian, and Amren had gone.

- I heard something. - Elain whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

- With that smile, I assume it was a good thing. Azriel raised an eyebrow and kissed her cheek, making her laugh before talking again.

- Rhys and Cassian are going to challenge us to a snowball war in pairs. - Az laughed at hearing his words, throwing his head back. - Cauldron save us.

- I think they've been planning this for a long time. - She concluded. - But the proposal will be made during dinner today. - Ready to finish them off? - Az smirked.

- Certainly. - She joined her lips to his and he lost himself in the sensation, it was always like this as if the floor disappeared under his feet and time stopped.

- They are even more sticky than Rhys and Feyre. - Az heard Mor's voice coming from the hall and Elain walked away, turning red and trying to get up from his lap. He smiled, pulling her against his body and resting his chin on her neck as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

- The beginning of a relationship is like that. - Varian entered the room, carrying several bottles of wine and nodding in the direction of the two. They were probably breaking into Rhys's stock.

- She is just jealous since she is the last single in our group. - Amren also entered the room, being followed by Mor who grimaced when he heard his words. Az laughed, feeling happy that he could finally show his feelings for Elain in public and she relaxed in his arms, leaning against his chest.

- If you want I can introduce you to some people, Mor. - Nessa entered the room, with Cassian in pursuit and Mor blushed while everyone laughed.

- I appreciate the offer, but I think I can manage on my own. - The blonde threw herself on the sofa opening a bottle of wine.

- The party is just beginning, use wine glasses Morrigan. - Rhys came down the stairs arm in arm with Feyre and laughed when his cousin showed him the middle finger, turning the bottle directly in his mouth.

Soon they were all settled on the sofa and Rhys made the fireplace light and wine glasses appeared on the coffee table, using a little magic.

- These three I already noticed were in my wine stock. - Rhys gestured to Mor, Amren, and Varian. The latter raised his arms in surrender, casting a look at Amren.

- I'm sorry man, I was coerced. - Rhys laughed when Amren rolled his eyes.

- Today I'll let that go. - The high lord turned to where Cassian was lying on the carpet, his back resting on Nesta's legs, who was sitting on the sofa. - But I want to know why you two are late. - A malicious smile painted his lips.

- Cassian takes more time getting dressed than a bride. - Nessa spoke pretending impatience and the general shrugged before saying playfully: - Beauty takes time.

- Some already wake up with it. - Az murmured and slammed his glass against Elain's, making everyone laugh. Everyone went back to drinking while they waited for dinner and soon the alcohol started to do.

- Hey, couple. Have you managed to break some furniture yet? - Cassian smirked maliciously, turning to the chair where Azriel was with Elain and Nesta slapped his arm, but before Az could think of an answer, Elain was already saying: - I think you would not like to hear details, Cassian. - Az laughed against her neck, surprised by the cross answer, and noticed her skin warm-up, for sure she was blushing.

- Wow, Az. What did you do to my cute and innocent sister? - Nessa was laughing and Elain rolled his eyes looking at her. - Our girl grew up. - Feyre put her hand over her heart as if she had been moved.

- Hey, I'm older than you, Feyre. - Elain folded his arms to channel her sister but then smiled. - You who always had a distorted image about me.

- She's still a good girl. Azriel turned slightly to look at Elain's face. - She’s just a bad girl with me. - Elain blushed, even more, nudging him. - I would be careful with words, spymaster.

- Is that a threat, baby? - Az brought his face close to hers and she bit her mouth, making him want to put his teeth in there. - Perhaps.

- Get a room. - Cassian shouted as he threw a pillow at them and everyone laughed. The noise made Nyx wake up and soon the little Illyrian was being passed from arm to arm, receiving attention from all his uncles.

- That child won't even be spoiled. - Feyre said wryly, hugging Rhys around the waist while Mor and Cassian argued to see who would hold Nyx after Nesta. Az and Elain had already played with their nephew as soon as they arrived, even the baby fell asleep in Az's arms and now they watched the scene with a smile.

Dinner was soon ready, and everyone went to the kitchen, everything was wonderful and Nuala and Cerridwen joined them. Mor who had won the dispute over Nyx with Cassian now struggled to get the baby to feed.

- I will never have children. - The blonde sighed. - At least nephews I can return to the parents. - Everyone laughed as she handed the little one over to Rhys, who easily managed to convince him to eat.

- Just because we were going to ask you to babysit tomorrow. - Rhys shook his head and Nyx clapped his hands together, making Mor melt looking at him.

- What do you not ask me crying that I don't do smiling? - She laughed, helping herself to more wines. - Do you need time just for the two of you? - The blonde winked at Feyre, who laughed.

- It is actually for an idea that these two had. - Feyre gestured between Rhys and Cassian and Nesta winced, probably already knowing what they were going to say. - Here it comes.

Az subtly turned his head to Elain, pretending to fill her glass, and saw her wave only once, confirming what was coming.

- We want to make a snowballs war in pairs. And without offenses Mor, you are the only one without a partner. - Rhys completed and Mor pouted. - Okay, my company will be great, right Nyx? - The little boy threw food upwards, having a party and everyone laughed. Cassian turned to the others at the table. - Who's in?

- Get ready to lose. - Az leaned back in his chair, putting an arm around the back of Elain's chair. - We're in. - Elain completed with a smile.

- I liked the confidence. But it will not be easy to pass us. - Nessa replied, turning to wink at Cassian as if they had some trick up their sleeve.

- Neither us. - Feyre and Rhys exchanged a look and Az imagined that they talked for the connection in their minds.

- Unfortunately, we left too early for the summer court. Varian looked at Amren. - But who knows next year?

- No way. - She said and everyone laughed again. "I will be enjoying the heat while you bury yourself in the snow.

- Then it's agreed. - Rhys raised his glass - Be ready at 6 am.

After exchanging gifts and when everyone had already retired to sleep, Azriel and Elain went to her old room on the property. The snow had fallen outside again and Elain walked to the window.

- Do you think we can win? - She looked over her shoulder at Az and he smiled as he unbuttoned his jacket.

- Taking into account that I won in the last 199 years and only lost last year because I couldn't get you out of my head. I think so. - She walked over to him, a sweet smile on her lips.

- I did not imagine that I would distract you so much. - She replaced his hands on the buttons and pushed him on his back to the bed.

- You have no idea. - He sat up and pulled her to the bed too, making her place one knee on either side of his body and sit on his lap. - But things have changed a lot in a year. - He moved his hands up her thighs. - And considering how happy I am, I think we will win.

Elain laughed, finishing unbuttoning his clothes. - We should rest for tomorrow then. To sleep early ... - Az proceeded to undo the ties of her dress, leaving kisses all over her neck.

- What were you saying? - He whispered against her skin, with his hands working quickly, and soon the fabric was loose. Elain laughed, pushing him on his back on the mattress, raising her arms then, and causing him to quickly pull the dress over her head.

- Wow love. I don't think we're going to sleep early anyway. - Az said, surprised to notice the cobalt-blue underwear she was wearing and she laughed, kissing him afterward. - Happy Solstice.

The morning came even colder than the night before, and Azriel and Elain went over their strategy again before going down for breakfast. Az was in his regular leathers and Elain was wearing leather pants and a heavy coat to withstand the cold. Soon Nesta and Feyre entered the kitchen wearing their Illyrian leathers, as did Rhys and Cassian. Breakfast was fast, and it didn't take long to leave for the cabin, Nestha winnowing with Feyre, Cassian with Rhys, and Az with Elain, Mor stayed at the river house with Nyx.

The snow was soft and untouched when they arrived. Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys exchanged a smile before the latter began to explain the rules to the girls, emphasizing mainly that the use of powers was prohibited and that if anyone did, the pair would be disqualified. Everyone agreed and split across the field, each pair in one direction.

Feyre and Rhys seemed to communicate through that mental link and the high lady laughed without a doubt, something he had said to her. Cassian and Nesta stretched and warmed up their muscles and Elain smiled at Azriel, opening and closing his fingers to warm his hands into the gloves, he noticed the movement and pulled her close, taking her hands between his and bringing it to his mouth to blow hot air into them.

- Ready? - He asked, smiling and getting more closer. She nodded in agreement. - Let's finish them.

Az smiled holding her chin and giving her a light kiss. - That's it! - Elain winked at him and they pulled away and turned away, walking the same amount of steps in opposite directions and ready to start.

Rhys counted down and in the next instant, the battle began, with snow flying in all directions. Cassian went on the attack, a technique that he had been improving in the last years and that Rhys already knew very well. The high lord laughed as he faced his brother, not noticing that Az appeared behind him ready to knock him into the snow. Feyre was agile and ran from the balls Nesta threw, and Elain as a good spy managed to go unnoticed while throwing balls when no one was waiting.

In a moment of inattention, Nesta ended up hitting Cassian in the face with a ball that was meant to hit Rhys in the back and enjoying it while they laughed, Azriel made a big mountain of snow behind which he hid with Elain, going over the tactics of the next one.

Elain jumped when Azriel pulled her to the side and in the next instant, Cassian and Nesta were rolling through the snow in screams.

- Are they fighting or kissing? - Azriel asked confused, trying to decipher what was happening and Elain spilled his head, also curious.

- Fighting. - She spoke when she saw her sister hit Cassian's head with a snowball and sit on top of the general who was lying on his back, but in the next instant, Cassian had pulled her down and joined their mouths together. - Now they're kissing.

Az laughed softly, getting to his feet and pulling Elain up, and soon afterward they dropped the snow mountain on top of the couple who clung to the ground.

- Eliminated. - Rhys's voice came from across the field, as Elain and Az clapped their hands and watched Cassian and Nesta coming out of the snow and not caring about the game, walking towards the cabin.

- Two to go. - Az whispered in Elain's ear, pulling away as she smiled and ran the other way. The wind was rising, lifting snow and making it difficult to see, but both were used to using all their senses and being sneaky.

Rhys was the first to fall when Az came out of nowhere in front of him and dropped him in the snow. They rolled for a few minutes, so couldn't tell who was who, but in the end, Az got up in time to see Elain use practically the same technique with Feyre.

- Feyre, darling. - Rhys called out as he got up and shook the snow. - We lost.

Feyre walked over to him, taking a look at the cabin where Cassian and Nesta were most certainly destroying everything. - Let's go home?

- I have better ideas, let's enjoy that Nyx is with a nanny. - And smiling, they held hands and winnowing who knows where.

Azriel brushed the snow from his hair and turned to Elain, who was doing the same. She smiled from ear to ear and he repeated the gesture while calling her with his hand and she ran up to him, jumping in his arms.

- We won. - She wrapped her arms around his neck and he laughed, holding her by the thighs.

- We won. - Az closed the distance between them, kissing her deeply, so that her whole body warmed up, even in the middle of the snow. - Let's go home. We have to celebrate before I freeze - She whispered against his lips and he smiled, before kissing her again as the shadows swirled around them, taking them home. Did you like it? Let me know in the comments

[luninosity]

Okay, so, some Falcon and the Winter Soldier thoughts (will have some spoilers) for episodes two and three. General non-spoilery comment first: I feel like these were both *okay* episodes - neither as good as the first, but I didn’t dislike them, either. I’m still really curious to see how we’re going to wrap this all up in three more episodes; it doesn’t feel like we’re halfway done yet!

Okay, more spoiler-y notes below the Read More, not in any real order, just as I think and type. I’ll probably forget some things, but for now, here’re some thoughts...

--I like ep 3 slightly more than ep 2, mostly because of Zemo!

--I actually really love Zemo here (I liked him in Civil War, too): complex, sardonic, enjoying poking at people, a villain we do feel sympathy for even as he’s still sharp enough to remind us that he is a villain. Daniel Bruhl has always done a fantastic job flipping between calculated cruelty, wry humor - the whole “I am a Baron” moment was great - and pain that for him is still raw, about the loss of his family. (Some things’re awfully cliche - look, the supervillain’s playing chess and reading Machiavelli in his cell? really? - but, y’know...sure. Why not. We expect some cliches in the superhero genre, and this is an inoffensive one.)

--also Zemo dancing. That’s it. That’s everything.

--moving on from that: I’m also really liking how they’re writing John Walker. He does have charm, and there’s a certain amount of sympathy - especially as we see him worrying about filling the Captain America shoes, in ep 2 - but we’re also getting this really subtle sense of wrongness about him. He’s clearly vindictive and angry when things (and people) don’t act according to his mental script for them, and he’s willing to use his name and power to do things like get Bucky released...which in context and given our sympathies for Bucky is a good thing, but...it’s also an indicator of his willingness to do what he wants, because he can. (To be fair, Steve Rogers also often did that! - but Steve earned our trust, both in narrative and character. From his first introduction to WWII leadership experience to all the Avengers stuff, Steve consistently acts to protect people, and he’ll also listen if someone else has a good idea or if someone needs to talk, like with Wanda.) So I’m really liking this slow-fuse character development.

--mixed feelings about Sharon. I love that the show’s acknowledging how much she sacrificed for our main heroes, with no reward. On the other hand, she also clearly knew the consequences that could happen; she said as much at the time. The level of bitterness seems like a lot. But I’m also interested in everything we still don’t know about her - if she’s not the Power Broker herself, she’s obviously Up To Something. So that should be fun.

--hey, look at that X-Men location, with Majipoor! Also a nod to Wolverine’s favorite bar there, I think?

--I love heist and disguise plots!

--I also really like Bucky’s having to revert to the Winter Soldier - Sebastian Stan does it so brilliantly, with so many layers of emotion: not wanting to, loathing it, recognizing the necessity, shutting off all emotion and just coldly doing it, hurting but covering it up...just fantastic, and you know I love some hurt/comfort, and this seems like such a great set-up for emotional hurt

--but! this also seems like...a weird plot hole, kind of? Bucky’s pretty famous at this point, right? I imagine the criminal underworld knows he’s been pardoned and deprogrammed, right? or do they assume Zemo, with his knowledge of Hydra, still has some special control over him?

--along the same “this seems like someone didn’t think this through” path, Sam, you’re a professional, turn off your phone on a mission. Oh my god. Face-palmingly stupid - and I think somewhat lazy writing, as the writers plainly needed a giveaway, and went for the first idea they had. Even if it made a main character look incompetent.

--the Flag Smashers and Karli are...fine. They feel very Generic Marvel Villain - not the big space alien type, but the other type, the “I have a personal loss and motivating pain so I’m a little sympathetic but also Clearly Evil, watch me kill civilians so the audience won’t ever find me TOO sympathetic” type. Meh. Fine. Zemo’s more interesting, but...fine.

--Anthony Mackie is such a fantastic actor - every bit of his reaction to the Isaiah Bradley reveal is so good. The anger, pain, frustration, ferocity...heartbreaking. Actually that whole scene is so good - his emotions at discovering this secret history are palpable, and it’s so painful, because we also understand why Bucky would keep the secret - as someone who knows about pain and trauma and being experimented on, and knowing Isaiah wants to be left alone - we feel really deeply for both characters here, and it’s great.

--I actually liked the abrupt swing from the Isaiah Bradley encounter to the casual everyday racism of the cops on the street - is it subtle, no. But it’s not meant to be: it’s meant to be standing up and shouting about how not that much has really changed, and about how pervasive racism is. I know some reviews were all, “this was just too much!” or “too forced!” but...look, it needs to be shouted sometimes for people to hear.

--Bucky’s notebook being Steve’s, oh, ouch, my feelings. If I had the time and energy to write fic...

--(also, if I had the time and energy to write dark!fic: where’re my fics in which Zemo’s implication about the Winter Soldier “doing anything you want” gets played with? what or who does Bucky have to do to keep the undercover charade going? so many Bad Wrong Kinky power dynamics and explorations of consent and what this would do to Bucky’s head, here, and honestly I’d totally read them all, just saying.)

--Sam and Bucky together...I don’t know. This is one of the elements that I’m not actually a huge fan of, but I think it’s partly a personal genre / sense of humor thing that’s not clicking for me, personally, again. Like...

--I don’t find people shouting aggrievedly at each other to be funny? I’m not sure why it is.

--I mean, I get that they’re doing, like, eighties buddy cop movies, but...it got old really fast then, and it’s not something we needed to bring back. It’s not clever, and it’s...well, shouty and annoying.

--(I say this as someone who genuinely likes the first two Lethal Weapon movies...but the significant difference is, I think, we’re also shown in both those movies that Riggs and Murtaugh care about each other. They don’t want to be partners initially, and they don’t get along initially, and they do argue over tactics**...but they immediately feel responsible for each other and act to protect each other even as they argue, because it’s the right thing to do and we’re shown moments of them awkwardly trying to connect, because they both have that deep sense of...protectiveness...that makes them Good People - like, if they learn something that the other person needs to know, they tell each other. They protect each other’s families / love interests. So by the end of the second movie, with that fabulous character death fake-out, Murtaugh’s initial shock and grief is real and powerful and painful, and so is his genuine relief when the worst isn’t true - and it’s all earned.) (**however, they tend to argue tactics *before* jumping in - “is it 1, 2, 3, go on 3? or 3, then go?” And then once that’s established, they go ahead. That makes a difference as far as...well...competence and teamwork!)

--(Sam and Bucky, as far as I can tell, don’t do the above, and just...maybe shouldn’t be working together?)

--I also don’t find grown men acting like my youngest nephew, when he’s having a temper tantrum, to be funny. Staring contests? Random insults? Sulking in silence? Oh, grow up.

--(Also, yes, writers, we see you with the “couples therapy” and “get closer and make your legs touch” and “landing on top of each other as they hit the ground” moments. I, at least, personally, am very tired of...I don’t know that I’d call it queerbaiting exactly, but this idea that we’re supposed to find these moments funny...because why? Because, ooh, they’re two men getting close to each other, physically or emotionally? Why is this a thing we need to draw attention to? Do you think you’re doing some sort of fan service? Please either make Sam/Bucky happen or stop doing this.)

--both Sam and Bucky are highly competent and professional agents, or they should be. They should know how to work in the field - even with people they may not like - and adapt to shifting strategy, make best use of available assets, include people in the plan, etc. I can’t help but compare this to something like, say, Leverage, which also has a team who mocks each other and makes jokes but clearly absolutely respects each other’s capabilities, has a plan going in and tells everyone what the plan is, and adapts (and trusts each other to adapt) on the fly as necessary, and does it all without random insults about someone’s (PTSD-related) staring and “robot brain”.

--one of the very specific moments that bothers me a lot is the ending of the therapy scene (yay for showing heroes in therapy! but also I’m pretty sure she’s...not a great therapist?). Bucky finally opens up and says something real, about his own self-doubt and wondering whether Steve was wrong about him....and Sam just...brushes it off and goes, “we’re done here,” basically. Not only does that feel wildly out of character for former counselor Sam, it feels cruel. I really deeply dislike that moment the more I think about it. Makes me want to scream.

--Sam insults Bucky way more than the other way around. It’s starting to feel very one-sided (it’d be better if more clearly reciprocal, though it’s still not a dynamic that’s my favorite), and again, feels out of character - maybe this is Anthony Mackie’s sense of humor, but Sam isn’t Mackie, and Bucky isn’t Seb, and it reads as...a weird unbalanced power-trip thing to me. And also out of character for Sam, who can be sarcastic (”If you guys eat that sort of thing,” about breakfast, when Steve and Nat have randomly shown up at his door) but that’s not the same as just throwing unprovoked insults at a person who’s trying to recover from trauma, and a lot of those insults seem to center on things that were done to Bucky, that he had no choice in (the staring, the arm, etc), and that feels....it just feels mean, to me. Make fun of things he’s had a choice in / can do something about, if you have to - hair, clothes, liking “old people’s games” like gin rummy or pinochle, not knowing who Beyonce is, I don’t know, there are so many options that aren’t cruel! Do that instead. Let Bucky have a good comeback for once, too!

--the action scenes are action scenes. Also fine.

--Sam might be right about destroying the shield, and the show may even be (unintentionally?) setting that up as the best outcome, but that’s a problem for the future, Sam; get it back first. Also it’s a problem you caused by giving the shield up - did you really trust the government to leave it unused in a museum? You’re not that naive.

--overall, it’s...a perfectly fine show, so far, I think? Solid, and interesting, but not great. I think some of what doesn’t work for me is because it doesn’t work for me personally, as far as the shouty insult-heavy action “comedy” bits that I’m not enjoying, but I think they’re doing what they aimed for with it, so in that sense, I guess it’s working? There’s a lot of really cool stuff around the edges - John Walker, Isaiah Bradley, that Dora Milaje stinger, the bigger world of a history interwoven with racism and superpowers, the chillingly effective use of Bucky’s past - but I wish I liked the central Sam-Bucky relationship more. Individually they’re wonderful - they’ve both had such powerful scenes dealing with family, trauma, and consequences - but I feel like, in the effort to do the buddy comedy dynamic, the writing has just made me really sure that they actually genuinely don’t like each other? To such an extent that if they show any affection / caring / interest in each other in the last three episodes, it won’t be believable. (I mean Sam and Bucky, not Mackie and Seb. Mackie and Seb’re adorable.)

--I just want to think about Zemo dancing some more.

[random-imagines-blog]

Over {Thorin Oakenshield x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: @queenofmankind​ Wordcount: 2492 Summary: The dwarves have been debating an important issue for a few months now. What happens when you offer a solution that impresses a certain King?

The meetings of dwarves were always long and full of tension. Arguments always erupted between Thorin Oakenshield, and Dain, and there were some problems that even Fili, and Balin having trouble solving. You  had been thinking about the solution to the main problem that they have been addressing, but it was not your place to offer. You were just here as a secretary, on top of being both a human and a woman, both of whom never sat in these discussions. It was only because Thorin had vouched for you that you were here at all. It was a little terrifying, knowing how precarious your situation was and how you could be ejected from the dwarves at any time. You had been helpful during the battle of the five armies, suggesting strategy to Bard who then passed it on to Thorin and Thranduil, which helped to win the mountain back. This place was like a home to you now - and the dwarves like family.

The main problem was the injured and how to take care of them. There was more than enough wealth to go around and the dwarves who had suffered in the wars were well compensated - but at the same time, they were arguing that they didn’t want to just hang around in bed doing nothing. It was not the dwarven way to be lazy. But all of the reconstruction jobs have already been given to the more able-bodied, and they weren’t about to be putting them out of work to give into the needs of the few. It was a difficult dilemma, and though a few things have been suggested, they’ve either been vetoed or tried for a day and then shut down.

You had written down all that had been said that night, and the meeting was coming to a close, when a solution popped into your head. You looked around the room, hoping that there may be a lull in which you could say it. But the arguments gained in escalation, with Thorin saying that he was not going to remove his dwarves from their task because he is the King Under the Mountain and he makes those decisions, while Dain was defending his own who were hurt from the battle that Thorin had started.

“Oh, hello!” Balin said, standing tall. Or as tall as he could on his own. You hadn’t noticed that he had been watching you, but he had been keeping a particularly close eye. He had seen something go across your face. An idea, perhaps. Anything to stop these two from arguing. “I think that y/n has an idea, and I think that we should listen to her!”

“Ay, why should we listen to her human ideas? She knows nothing about the affairs of dwarves!” Dain complained, just as he had when you had first started joining these meetings.

“And neither did a hobbit, and look at where Bilbo brought us,” Thorin interjected on your behalf. He looked at you with his wise blue eyes, and gave you a nod to say what was on your mind. Dain crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, not interested in learning, while the others looked at you with excitement. It would be the first time you would be speaking at one of these meetings; and Kili and Fili did notice that it was Thorin encouraging you. That would come up later.

You cleared your throat as you realized that all of the attention was on you. “I - I was just thinking, I don’t have a thorough solution or anything...”

“Sometimes a thought can change the world,” Balin encouraged, leaning forward with a smile on his old features. He was being very kind and welcoming, and it pushed you to go ahead and say your idea.

“Well, dwarves aren’t the only ones working on piecing their land back together,” You said outloud, focusing your eyes on Thorin although it was his opinion that you were the most afraid of. If he dismissed you outright, it would hurt like mad. “Laketown and the surrounding area were destroyed by Smaug. And yes, they have the gold to repair it and make it grander than before, but they don’t have the men. Or the materials.”

“Yes, we’ve heard the complaints,” Dain interrupted. Dwalin shushed him loudly, but he continued. “Are you sayin’ that we should go and do the work for the humans?”

“That’s ... not exactly it,” You said, the wheels in your mind turning. This was your chance to be taken seriously and you were going to seize it. “I know that the injured are healing but some have ... disabilities. We can’t expect them to do the careful work of the healthy, working with forges and the like. They could hurt themselves, or others that way. But they are still more than capable of doing other work if they stop being so ... stubborn.”

“Ye think we’re being stubborn now, just you wait til I tell em about this-” Dain said, but was shushed once more. This time he seemed to listen.

“A trading post,” You said, just as the words popped into your head. “They still have control of the lake, which means that you would need their permission in order to get fish. And other food, because it’s not as if dwarves can live off of eating rocks ... can you?”

You looked over to one of the dwarves who was closest to you, Nori. He shook his head. “I didn’t think so,” You continued with a little laugh, which Fili and Kili joined in on. “So they might not be able to handle a hammer and anvil, but surely they can work a boat or carts, set their own hours, make their own pay? That’s part of the problem, isn’t it? They feel like charity because you’re just giving them gold without them really earning it? At least, that would offend me partly. I can’t speak for dwarves, obviously.”

“It is something that we will think on,” Thorin grunted. At least he didn’t outright dismiss you, which was more than you bargained for. “Meeting is over - we’ll talk about it next month.”

The dwarves bundled up their things, with Dain doing the most since he was going the farthest. He gave you a look that was most queer. You couldn’t read it, you couldn’t tell if it was a good look or a bad look. Before you could determine that, he looked away, and took off to head back to his own home, leaving you with your own company of dwarves for a little better.

“That’s clever, actually,” Fili said, turning up on one side of you, while his brother was on the other. They were who you would say you were closest to within the company.

“Didn’t think you had it in you, honestly,” Kili piped up.

“If you’re still trying to impress uncle, you’re doing a good job.”

“Hush,” You said quickly, clapping your hand over the prince’s mouth before he could say much more. You looked over your shoulder to see if Thorin had heard, but he didn’t appear to. He was talking with Balin rather animatedly.

That was another reason why you were the closest with them. Because, unfortunately, they had caught the looks that you had been giving the King. After that, it seemed like a better idea to be on their good side than on their bad. They might tell and poof, your position goes away because of a simple case of...

It was love, wasn’t it?

It had gone beyond the crush that you had when you first saw the blue eyes peeking out from behind the mounds of hair. Now you understood why so many of the people around him loved him. Why every one of these dwarves would have died for him. It was not only the cause that was great, but the dwarf behind them.

“‘Ello Uncle, good meeting today, wasn’t it?” Kili said, making you release Fili quickly and look towards the King. You smiled nervously, awaiting the verdict.

“I’d like to talk to y/n, alone,” He grunted, looking at his nephews. They looked at each other, and sheepishly smiled.

“Just like to say that was a very Queen-ly idea,” Kili stated, then bowed out of the room.

“I’d give her a promotion if I were you,” Fili said, leaving as well. You chuckled nervously at their attempts to win your favor with Thorin, but largely, you were worried that it would only have the opposite effect.

“Okay, now that the meeting is over, I’d like to apologize,” You said before he could tear into you for speaking out of turn.

“For what?” Thorin asked. You bit the inside of your cheek, expecting a reaction but not a question.

“I know that my position here is just to record the meetings, and not to give ideas. I wouldn’t have said anything if I hadn’t been asked by Balin. I don’t have the experience to suggest such things, it was just something that came into my head.”

“You’re  not confident in your own ideas,” Thorin observed, stroking his beard with his rough fingers. He sat back down at the table and kicked out a chair for you to join him, across from him. Hesitantly, you took the seat. “I was going to ask you if you have anymore. I’m going to tell Dain to suggest the idea to the dwarves. Let them decide their fate.”

“You are?”

Thorin nodded in response. He wasn’t a man of many words, more so a man of displeased sounds, so the fact that he was talking to you now was a big deal. “There’s been some other issues that have been bothering me. I’d like your input.”

“Oh, well, why didn’t you bring any of them up when the meeting was going on?” You asked, looking at your papers. The only real issue on the docket was the one that you might have resolved.

“I like to have solutions before the problems are brought up,” Thorin said. You nodded, supposing that made sense, and listened to him as he unloaded what was on his mind.

-

Bombur found the both of you two hours later, still talking in the room. He brought you guys dinner - some rabbit stew that was made. Fili and Kili found you two an hour after that, still in the room. This time you were taking down notes, and doing most of the talking while Thorin was listening. After that, the two of you were left alone because everyone else had retired to their bedrooms.

Thorin kept his eyes on you as you talked. You had a lot of motion inside of you. You drew things to explain your point, you waved your arms around, it was like you were putting on a one-woman show. You displayed passion, much like the way that Thorin had when he had set out to reclaim the mountain. And he was struck by how intelligent you were. All of your ideas seemed more than feasible.

You had ideas about how to solve the food shortage, how to better farm the area, and even how some of the disabled dwarves could help with both of those things. Thorin didn’t say much, only brought up a couple of questions which you explained.

It was only when you finally started to show signs of exhaustion that he stopped you from going on. He held up a hand when he asked if you had any other questions, then got to his feet. “You’ve worked hard enough for tonight, lass,” He said. “I have more than enough to bring to the council. And they will listen to their King.”

“Oh, of course, you’re right,” You said, remembering that it would be him who would be presenting your ideas, rather than yourself. Thorin, though rather clueless at times about what other people are thinking, saw a doubt rush across your face.

“So I will back your ideas, and make sure that you are heard.” Thorin finished. He liked seeing the excited look come back into your eyes, and the smile of triumph. “It is late - I will walk you to your room.”

“Thank you,” You said. The lantern was sitting on the table, the wick of the candle inside beginning to wane. You both reached for it at the same time, and your fingertips touched on top of the handle. You were the one to pull away after a couple of prolonged seconds, and Thorin just grabbed hold of it. It was difficult to pretend that he did not just feel a spark that sent his heart alight.

Queenly idea, Kili had said? Perhaps that was so. You had all of the makings of a great leader, and you were just beginning to make it known. An excellent choice, despite the fact that you were a human while he was a dwarf. “I pronounce this meeting to be over.”

Over. No more time with you tonight, but it must be done. There was work to do tomorrow, but perhaps, just maybe, he might be able to see you tomorrow.

He lead the way through the confusing halls of the inside of the mountain, before stopping outside of the room that has been claimed as yours. It was one of the bigger ones - as a lady, all of the male dwarves thought you should have it. He stopped outside of the door and turned to face you for the last time that night.

“Goodnight-” You started, but at the same time-

“Y/N,” Thorin had sputtered. You blinked, a little surprised that he was saying your name.

“Yes?” You questioned, looking up at him with your beautiful eyes.

“Would you care to join me for dinner tomorrow night, so we can discuss this more?” Never had he been so nervous to ask a question. He wondered how Kili ever talked to Tauriel without feeling the winged things in his stomach.

“Yes, I think that would be wonderful,” You said with a smile. “Until the day is over then?”

“Until the day is over. Goodnight.”

Thorin waited until you were safe inside your bedroom, with the door closed, before he went down the hallways to his own quarters. Sleep seemed a waste of time to him throughout most of his life, since he had so much to live up to. But now, he was looking forward to it. The sooner he fell asleep, the sooner he would be awake, and the sooner that dinner would come around and he could listen to you talk until the meeting was over.