#you cannot tell me he wasn’t fishing when he said she was really becoming obsessed with the monster in the woods

[lesbian-deadpool]

Saving Rosie

Part One of Two: “I’m Not A Spy.”

Rosie Betzer x Reader

Words: 5,768

Warnings: WWII (and everything that comes with that era), Nazis, spy shit, arguing, alludes to execution, sadness... I think that may be it.

Request: No.

Summary: You save the woman you have grown close to over the past few years you have been undercover as a Nazi general, and now you’re going to save her family.

A/N: Me, still broken after watching Jojo Rabbit almost a year and a half ago?? It’s more likely than you think... so, apparently I write Rosie Beltzer fics now lol

Also, just some lil notes. The reader in this is undercover as a male Nazi general, and they’re not actually German in this fic.

EDIT: I accidentally tagged this as a Natasha fic lmao. I fixed it now tho.

Ko-Fi

Commissions

(Not My GIF)

***

"It's a lovely night for it, huh?"

For what? You weren't 

certain. Maybe it was the full moon. Maybe, it was the clear sky. The deserted streets, perhaps... what loomed in the following days to come.

Or maybe, just maybe. It was the woman by your side.

The woman hummed, a small sweet smile caressing her face.

"One of the better ones we've had in years. Came her strong German accent. A stark difference to yours, considering you no longer had to mask it. Around her, anyway.

Your smile mirrored hers as it brightened.

"It sure is."

"I can't believe it's almost over. And after so long..." she said, while you grunted, sitting down beside her on the small roof over the open attic window. "This unjust war is finally coming to an end."

"Okay, you're starting to sound like my commander now."

Rosie chuckled at your words, moving to softly lean into your side, keeping her head up to continue looking at the bright white stars that littered the midnight blue sky.

"Why do you always insist on meeting up here?" you grumbled, no malice in your voice, "It's a pain in the ass to get up onto the roof, from the outside, y'know?"

"You're a spy, aren't you? Aren't you supposed to be good at this stuff?"

"Oh cheeky," you laughed, lightly slapping the side of her leg, with the back of your hand. Rosie's quiet giggles following your remark, "And I'm an undercover soldier. Those are two very different things."

"Still." She shrugged.

You sat in silence for a small while. Over the few years, you and Rosie had grown close. Meeting up on her rooftop, at the dead of night, where there was no chance of anyone seeing you together, this way, becoming an almost every day occurrence.

You knew you could trust her the moment you first met, almost three years ago. After you had stolen the identity of a Nazi officer, that looked starkly like you. Luckily, there was hardly any information about this person. So, there was less chance for your cover to be blown.

Soon, the resistance that Rosie had been deeply a part of was un-earthed to you, thanks to your informant and the letter she carried. It wasn't long after that you started working with them too. Helping them better than they could ever hope, thanks to the military resources and information you brought.

"What happened to your neck?" Rosie asked, pulling you out from where you were, deep in your memories.

A hand came up to rub at your slightly sore skin.

"My informant can be cruel..."

Rosie cocked a blonde eyebrow at you, wanting an explanation from you.

You sighed, getting ready to tell her.

***

Eyes burned into the woman from all sides as her heels kicked against the polished wooden, yet stained, floor. Her light brown hair shone under the glowing lights, confidence radiating from her just the same.

"Can I help you?" a German Soldier slid in front of her, she had to stop herself from sneering at the man. For both his being a Nazi and his sweaty stench. But instead, she managed a sultry smirk.

"I'm here to see your General," she replied, in a German accent.

"Don't bother," another Soldier, this one drunk and slightly swaying, called over, from where he was pressed into the wall a few feet behind her.

"I don't think your General would take too kindly to you stealing what they paid for."

"They're gonna have fun with you," he replied, blatantly looking her up and down. Like a wolf would, to a tiny bunny, ready to devour it whole. However, the wolf was not a wolf at all, the wolf was, in fact, the bunny, and the bunny was the actual wolf.

She would tear him to shreds, given the chance.

"The General is in the usual room," the original man said, "Fair warning, though. They're not in a good mood today."

The woman began strutting down the hallway, once again. Throwing, "Aren't they always?" over her shoulder once she passed him by.

When she opened the thick wooden door you resided behind, the sounds of your continued groan began pouring through the crack.

"Sometimes I cannot believe that you got this assignment," she uttered in her original London accent, with her back pressed against the now-closed door.

You finished your groan off and took a deep breath before you uttered your reply.

"Luck-of-the-draw, I guess," you spoke from the floor where you lay on your back, with a shrug, "That, or I look strikingly alike the guy who died. The Nazi prick."

She walked over to you, one foot rising to press her heel into your neck, your thyroid resting in the open space of the shoe.

A choking noise sprang from your mouth as you flailed your limbs around gently. You knew that if she were to press any harder, she would surely manage to choke you.

"You're not suited for this job."

The brunette pressed harder against your throat before she released you. Leaving you to turn on your side, coughing and spluttering.

"Well, no shit. I'm a soldier, not a spy."

"You can tell."

"What was that all about?" You motioned to your neck. Red marks already making their way upon the tender flesh.

"We need to make it seem like we are having sex. Remember? I am supposed to be your hooker after all."

"You're a bitch, is what you are."

She scowled at you as you rolled yourself onto your stomach, sighing when you finally got to your feet.

"Where's the update?"

You hummed, almost as if you were remembering what you were here to do. Removing the crystal tumbler from your lips the whisky sloshing around inside. Reaching behind you, you pulled the file from where it was tucked into your pants and under your shirt. Handing it over to her.

"Is this it?" She asked, weighing the file in her hand, "It's very light."

"Yeah, and so's the information swimming around. Unless you wanna hear about the fish Agatha caught last weekend," you snarked back, moving to point at the file with the same hand that held your glass, "There's some good stuff in there. It's not much. But it's good."

"I'll take your word for it."

She tucked the folder into the long overcoat she wore, then you saw her eyebrows furrow.

"Aren't you supposed to take care of that?" She nodded towards the uniform jacket you had thrown across the room not long after you had entered it.

"You sneered at the fore-talked about item.

"I hate it and everything it stands for." You turned back to face her. "As soon as all of this bullshit is over, I'm burning that fucking armband. And then the rest of the fucking uniform."

"Real calm there, aren't you?"

"Don't start shit with me, Hannah." You took a large swig of your drink, almost emptying the glass. "I know that you wish you had somehow gotten this mission. But trust me, you don't fucking want it. The shit I've seen and done. The stuff that I've had to authorise, just to keep my cover. The fucking horror storied these monsters have told proudly, or as if they're fucking jokes." You were panting now. "You don't want that."

You had her startled into silence. Hannah had never expected this to come from you.

"How's the resistance?"

You grunted. Downing the rest of the brown liquor before moving to pour yourself another glass three fingers tall.

"It's going." you gave a heavy nod. "Still trying to spread the word."

Hannah hummed, slowly making her way towards you. Fingers coming up to razzle her hair, and wipe her lipstick, so it smudged onto her cheek.

"How's the blonde?"

"What-?" you were cut off when she wiped the red lipstick on her fingers across your own lips, leaving a smudge like hers there. "Ugh," you groaned, moving away from her palm, only to utter small obscenities and sounds of pain when her lipstick freehand messed up your short, slicked-back hair.

"What blonde?" you finally managed to ask.

"The one from the resistance. What's her name?" She clicked her fingers together, in realisation, "Rosie."

"Oh! Yeah, she's fine, and so are the kids."

"You seem to be taking a shine to her, from what I hear from the resistance. You and Rosie seem to be something of a dynamic duo."

Suddenly your shirt was ripped open, from the collar to your ribs. Making your eyes widen in shock.

However, you were used to this by now, so they soon returned back to their regular size.

"Yeah, we're friends."

Hannah hummed, something akin to a knowing smirk on her face. As she untucked your shirt.

"I'd keep an eye on her, though."

She opened your pants.

"She's being watched."

Breathless at what she just said, you stood stock still, watching as she walked towards the wooden door.

"Oh." Hannah stopped, her hand upon the handle, pulling some pieces of paper from her pocket and threw them to the floor, "I'll leave you to deliver the bad news."

And with that, she left.

***

You forewent telling Rosie everything from the mention of her.

Thinking it the best if she heard it differently.

"That really sounds like a spy meeting to me," Rosie said with a smirk, knowing it would annoy you to no end.

You closed your eyes before you could roll them into the back of your head. Taking a deep breath, you exhaled, "I'm not a spy."

"So, you've said," she giggled.

"You're drunk," you mumbled to yourself.

"What was that?"

"How are the kids?" you asked, clearly watching as Rosie groaned lightly. Her head down-turned, almost sad looking.

"Jojo's still obsessed with Hitler and everything. And Elsa's doing her best. But I can tell how much this is affecting her. And in what world wouldn't it?"

"She's strong." You nodded. "She'll get through it. We all will."

"And what about Jojo?"

Rosie turned to face you, hair swaying as she did. You could see the glazed look in her eye's, telling yourself to be extra vigilant with the woman upon the roof. You had to make sure she didn't fall off in her drunken state.

"Is he going to be like this for the rest of his life?"

Tears were building in her eyes now.

"Supporting evil dictators, wanting to take over the world, and fill it with hate?"

"No. No, of course not," you whispered. Reaching over, you clasped her cheeks between your rough, war-hardened hands. Wiping away her silent tears. "He's just a boy. A boy who wants to be a part of something, even if he doesn't understand what that is. What monster's he's following. He will realise one day. Trust me."

"I trust you." She nodded. "It just. It's hard. It's so hard. Especially when he plays up, like he did at dinner today."

"He did?"

She hummed with a nod.

"We're low on food right now. I had to go without to feed Elsa. But Jojo, he didn't know, obviously, so he took that too. Then he started arguing about his father-"

You inhaled sharply, shoulders tensing. But luckily for you, she didn't notice your reaction.

"-I yelled at him... we made up not long after, but I still feel awful about it. I'm a terrible mother."

"No, you're not-"

"I am-"

"No. You're not," you said firmly. Grabbing her forearm, gently moving it side to side, to get your point further across, "You're such a caring and amazing person. Your heart is so big and kind. And you're an even better mother. It's like all of that is doubled for those kids."

"Thank you," Rosie whispered, tears in her eyes once again, before she moved to wipe them away.

"Anyway, you're way better than my mother. She abandoned me at a farm. I was lucky a cow didn't shit on me."

She giggled at your little joke.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you."

"There's no need. I wouldn't change it."

Things were quiet for a few minutes when you suddenly remembered.

"Oh!" You reached into your pocket and pulled out three packages, wrapped in brown paper and tied together with string. "I guess it was just lucky that I brought these then."

"What are they?"

"Beef sandwiches, I thought you would like them."

"Oh, you're a lifesaver," she spoke in something close to a moan as she took a bite out of her sandwich.

You gave a small chuckle at the woman seated beside you, "I'd thought you'd say that. I'll have to start bringing food over to these meetings of ours because it's not like I can do it out in the open."

"People would think something was going on between us," Rosie hummed.

"You're right about that. Everyone is so bored around here. Gossip is like their life sauce."

"Would you be surprised if I told you that it was the same before the war?"

"Not at all," you laughed.

Rosie finished her sandwich, and you dreaded what was coming next.

"I need to tell you something," you almost whispered.

She bumped her shoulder against yours when you didn't continue.

"Well? What is it?"

"It... it's about your husband..."

You watched her carefully as you said that, all the while emotions, flew into her while she processed them.

She held back more tears, ones from the look on her face that she had shed more times than she could count. Face contoured into one of concealed pain. Looking away from your gentle, caring eyes while rubbing her hands together.

"He's dead, isn't he?"

"I'm afraid so." You nodded, looking out before you, into the starry night sky.

That's when you felt a tiny jolt beside you. Looking over at the blonde, you watched as a tear trickled down her cheek.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered.

With a gasp and a wet sniff, Rosie wiped her tears away.

"What happened?"

"There was a raid, some members of a resistance was there, your husband included. None of them made it... they saved the people they intended to, however."

She nodded with a sad yet proud smile.

"How long ago was this?"

You swallowed. Hating the words you were about to say.

"A little over a year ago."

You winced when you heard her sobs, ones being held in so hard just so no one could overhear her cries.

And, sickeningly so, the worst thing of all was that you didn't know how to help her.

Placing a hand upon her back, rubbing small comforting circles into her shoulder. Feeling her lean into you, face now pushed into your neck.

"I'm here. Everything's going to be alright."

You left not too long later, after already spending way too much time up on that roof.

Rosie wished you a "goodbye" with the promise that she would be fine. However, she didn't reply to you when you told her not to finish the rest of the wine. That she had been pounding for the majority of the day.

Before you arrived "home" and promptly collapsed onto the bed.

***

The afternoon sun was warm upon your face as you walked the streets of the German town. Watching as children ran around, women worked, and well, gossiped, and Nazi soldiers came and went.

Soon. You thought. This will all be over soon.

That's when you heard the murmured words from the women you had just walked past.

"Yes, the Gestapo. They're here right now."

"Who for?" the other woman asked, voice slightly higher at the aspect of such "juicy" gossip.

Sometimes it surprised you just how detached some of these people were from human lives. But then you took a step back and saw everything that was happening in the world. And you weren't surprised anymore. Just disappointed.

"The traitors wife. Beltzer."

And now you were scared.

"-They should be taking her to the square, right now."

It was like the world had slowed down as you turned to look at them, meeting their curious eyes.

The last thing you heard before taking off at a run towards the town square was a fading, "Like husband, like wife. I guess."

The people you passed by looked at you like you were insane. To see a, what they thought, General, sprinting down streets and panting like crazy, it set them on edge.

But you didn't give a damn about what anybody thought.

You just had to get to the square.

And quick.

***

By the time you got there, you had a light shine over your skin. Thanks to the sweat from both the running you had done and the worry that coursed through you.

"Remove your hands from her," came your faux German accent.

"She is a traitor to the Reich," one of the Gestapo's, seemingly the leader, replied assuredly.

"And what proof do you have of this?"

Rosie was terrified. You could see that as clear as day, no matter how she tried to keep calm. It was written all over her face.

So, you forcefully pushed their hands from the heavily breathing woman and pulling her to stand by your side and away from the group of men dressed in black suits.

"I'll have you know, we have very probable tips from some of the community-"

""Probable"?!" you shouted, causing the on edge woman beside you to jump slightly. To which you pulled her closer to you as a form of comfort. Your hand, coming to rest on her shoulder.

"Yes. Probable. We cannot have risks."

"Well, I say that it is bullshit."

"You have no jurisdiction or authority over our department."

"And I never said I did. I am saying that I vouch for this woman."

"But the tip-off's-" another man began.

"You choose to believe lonely and bored housewives over a General?!" You watched as their faces fell, and they tried to grab onto any straw they could to change your mind.

"There is still a chance-"

"There is no chance!"

"And can you be so sure?!"

"Do you really believe that I, a General, would be with her if you were right?"

"With her?" a third Gestapo asked curiously.

You knew what you had to do to get her back home, safe and away from the men trying to execute and make a spectacle of her. Just like the poor people hanging to your right.

"It means that I have been seeing her. Romantically, if you still do not fully understand, what I mean."

They didn't say anything for a few short moments, only stumbling and stuttering over their own voices.

"So, tell me. Who are you choosing to believe?"

"Uh. Y-You General."

"Good." You nodded once. "Now, I'm going to take her home. Goodbye, gentlemen," you spat. Turning on your heel, with Rosie under your arm, and walking away.

"Are you okay?" you whispered. Not drawing any attention to yourself or Rosie.

"I'm fine. Thank you for saving me," she replied in the same way.

"I wouldn't have done anything else." Your hand slipped down to the blondes dip in her lower back, helping to guide her back home. "Where are the flyers? Did you have any on you?"

"Yes. I threw them down the drain before they could see."

"Good. You did good." A squeeze to her hip before your hand returned to her lower back, just to keep up the appearance of the lie. "They're not gonna find them."

***

Rosie had relaxed more by the time you were at the bottom of her street when you saw a distinctly expensive car parked outside of Rosie's house. A car that everyone knows belongs to that of Gestapo's.

"Is Jojo home?" you asked, just stood there starring at the sight, with Rosie by your side.

"Yes," she husked.

"Shit."

And that's when you both broke out in a run.

You, being faster than Rosie, arrived at the building first. Barging through the door, with her hot on your heels.

Pounding your way up the stairs, only to come face to face with a gang of men, identically dressed to the Gestapo's, you had just saved Rosie from. Along with Jojo and Elsa, in clothes that didn't look like they belonged to her. Not to mention the demoted soldier, holding an identification book.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

"What are you doing in my house?!" you and Rosie said at the same time. Your yell angrier, compared to her more so worried one.

"We are searching the premises," the lead man, who wore round glasses, spoke. Face confused as to why Rosie was still alive. But as soon as he saw the anger chiselled upon your face. He could take a successful guess as to who had stopped the execution.

"Mama, they were just checking Inge's identification," Jojo said as his mother rushed towards him. Her hands, on his cheeks, as she checked him over.

"Oh, yes. Of course." Rosie pulled Jojo along to bring Elsa into her side, just as you had done for her mere minutes ago. "Are you both alright?"

She gained words and nods of confirmation from the two children.

"I think it's time that you all left."

"But-" one Gestapo said, looking to Rosie.

"But nothing," you continued, "I'm sure your associates will fill you in on their mistake. Now, if you are finished, I ask that you leave this house."

"We were just about to, anyway," the leader said, leading the way out for everyone. But not before the ID was handed back to the assumed Inge. With you trailing after, to slam the door behind them.

You turned, leaning your back against the wooden door, sighing deeply.

"Are they gone?" Rosie called down, leaning over the railing, to peer down at you.

The stairs creaked below you, the layer of carpet doing nothing to quiet them. You spoke your confirmation, as you reached her, "They're gone."

The kids looked like they had just been caught with their hand's in the cookie jar.

"So..." the caring woman started, "You two know about each other."

They nodded.

"For how long?"

"A couple of weeks, at most," Jojo said.

"How did you even find out about her?"

"I-I found the hatch-"

"He crawled in-"

"And I found her-"

"He was terrified."

"Was not!"

"Was too."

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Okay, enough," Rosie raised her voice, gaining the bickering children's attention.

Taking a breath, she ran her hands through her soft blonde hair.

"And you never told anyone?"

"No." Jojo shook his head. "I didn't want you to get into trouble..." It was at that point, he realised you were silently stood behind his mother, watching as everything unfolded and who you were.

Rosie caught this and looked over her shoulder at you.

"Don't worry," she told both of the kids, crouching down before them. Elsa's face one of mild terror.

This is when it hit you that these kids were exactly that.

Kids.

Kid's that were too scared of their mothers, or motherly figure, scolding them, than the actual, apparent danger that lurked not too far away.

"They're not going to tell anybody. They know. And won't let anything happen. To any of us." she manoeuvred to face you. "Right?"

You nodded. "Absolutely. I will do my best to protect all of you."

"Speaking of." She slowly rose to her feet, walking towards you.

The hand that Rosie placed upon your arm was gentle, almost like she was worried she would hurt you. Fingers curling into the jacket of the uniform you loathed.

"I have to speak with the General. So, you two stay up here. Understood?"

They nodded.

"Good." She pulled you through the open door, but before she could close it fully, her head popped through the door, "Oh. And we're not done yet. We still have a lot to talk about."

Then the door clicked shut.

"You're really good at that."

"What?"

"Being a mother."

"I know. You've told me before."

***

Things had changed rather quickly when you arrived downstairs.

Sat upon the blue cotton cushions of the wooden framed couch. Watching as Rosie paced around in front of you, fingertips rubbing against her full lips, worry etched across her face.

Your eyebrows shot up, and your body straightened when she turned to face you. Arms now down by her sides.

"So, we're together, huh?"

"I'm sorry," you replied, German accent dropped, "But that was the only thing that would get them to back off and drop the suspicions against you."

"I know." She nodded, completely understanding. Before her minimal composure dropped, and the worry came back. "What do we do? Jojo obviously thinks you are a traitor now. What if he tells someone?"

"He won't." You stood abruptly, taking Rosie's shoulder's into your hands, squeezing them gently. "He didn't tell anyone about Elsa when he had so many chances to do so. Hell, he had the chance, not even five minutes ago. But he hasn't said a word, purely just to keep you safe... he doesn't understand that this could hurt him and Elsa too. He doesn't know what's happening."

"But this is different-"

"Yes, it is different. It's better he thinks I'm a traitor, helping his family, than him knowing I'm an undercover soldier."

"You mean a spy?"

"Don't you start with that shit." You pointed at her playfully.

Rosie's smile dropped when a thought popped into her mind.

"Do you think they will still come back?"

"It is possible," you said honestly, "Which is why we should leave as soon as we possibly can."

"And go where?"

"Anywhere that isn't here."

"What do I tell the kids- What do I tell Jojo?" she clarified.

"The truth. You tell them that they could come back and that we all need to leave because we could all be in danger."

With her head in her hand's, the blonde scoffed tearily, "God. This fucking war."

"I know. I know."

You pulled her into your chest, letting her cry into you. Arms wound around your torso tightly.

"I hate it, For so many reasons."

"I know," you repeated again, "I feel the same."

"When will it just end? When will people be safe again?"

Deciding that it would be best to tell her the truth, you said, "I don't know. Soon I hope."

And there you sat, for a small while longer, allowing the blonde to cry into your chest.

***

You had left.

Gone to go gather some of your things, thinking it best to stay with Rosie and the kids while you were forced to stay in town.

All the while Rosie, spoke to the kids about leaving.

"I don't understand why we have to go!"

Was what you were greeted with as you entered the home.

"Because it is not safe for us here anymore," Rosie's voice came, calm but firm.

"But they won't come back."

"That's not entirely true," you spoke, entering the kitchen. Placing the leather bag you carried and the wicker basket upon the small table against the wall, you continued, "There's always a chance, no matter how small."

The young boy watched you silently for a minute. Not knowing what to say.

"Trust me, Jojo. I know how all of this works. I just want to keep you all safe, so does your mother. And this is the best way to do it.2

Jojo sighed.

"Where will we go?"

Rosie looked at you intently when her son asked this, wondering the same thing.

"We'll get out of town first. Then we'll focus on a safe place for us all to go."

"Jojo, would you. Would you go to your room, please?" Rosie asked, "I need to speak with the General, alone."

Just as the blonde boy was about to protest, he was cut off.

"Now. I also have to start preparing dinner."

He huffed and walked from the room, bounding up the stairs rather loudly.

You felt bad for the woman as you watched her grip the sides of the oven, bow her head, and give a great sigh.

"Where's Elsa?"

"She's in her hiding spot." Then she turned to face you. "Y/N, K know that Elsa isn't Inge."

"What?"

"She got Inge's birthday wrong, and he didn't say anything."

Your eye's wandered as you took in the information that was just given to you.

"Do you think he will say anything?"

"I don't know," you said with a shrug, "But I don't wanna take any chances. It's too risky."

"I agree." Rosie nodded once. "So, when do we leave."

"As soon as possible. Tonight if we can. Only pack the essentials. And not yet, we can't raise any suspicions."

Rosie's only reply and indication that she had heard you were a good few nods.

And then.

"What's in the basket?"

"Oh," you said chipperly, "Don't worry about cooking. I brought dinner."

***

Turns out "tonight" wasn't a viable option for skipping town, as with loud, almost deafening sirens of dread filled the sky came the air-raid strike.

"Wouldn't it give us a good cover, though?" Rosie had asked, preparing for bed.

You had resigned yourself to staying over, as a sort of bodyguard, while still in town. And the threat was still very much weighing in the winds.

You looked over your shoulder at her. Being spotted by her through the mirror of her vanity, where she sat. Removing her makeup and then applying some face cream.

"I'm not the only one by a window," you told her. Then moved to peer through the window, at the moving lights in the black, midnight sky. "I'm sure I heard Elsa and Jojo in the attic watching them."

"They are," she confirmed.

"See. We're not the only ones. Too many eyes. A good distraction," you admitted, "But almost impossible. And with two kids added to that? No chance."

A hum came from Rosie.

"So, what are our options?"

With a sigh, you began explaining, "People will be too jumpy tomorrow, so our best bet would be the day after."

The blonde, now ready for bed, came over to you. Moving to stand right in front of you, looking out the window herself.

"Wouldn't it be too risky, staying here that long?"

It seemed it was your turn to hum, shrugging your shoulders.

"I'd rather stay here a few more days than risk it out there. But there is a good side to these change of plans."

"And what's that?"

"Now, we can sneak stuff to the car. And won't risk being caught doing it all at night. That way, all we have to do is get in, then drive off."

"Good plan. Partner," Rosie spoke in a slight mocking about sultry tone. Which only made you roll your eyes good-naturedly.

"Yeah. Yeah. You're welcome."

"Seriously," you halted at Rosie's serious tone, raising your head to peer at her, "Thank you for everything."

"You don't have to thank me." Your lips ticked up in a small smile before you lightened the sober mood and atmosphere. "And you definitely won't be thanking me if I accidentally kick you in my sleep."

Rosie laughed at your words, watching as you said into bed beside her.

"Do not worry. If you kick me, I'll just kick you out of the bed."

"Now that's just rude."

Waking up the next morning was strange for you, to say the least.

With the bright sun shining through the thin drapes, across the cosy room, and onto the bed. Duvet lumpy above your forms.

And then there was Rosie.

The blonde pressed up against your side, head resting on your shoulder, arms curled around one of yours, still fast asleep.

Now that.

That was very unusual for you.

But then again. You were too sleepy to process anything at that moment. So instead, you just watched her breathe soothingly, looking so peaceful by your side, with your eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinted in curiosity.

It was a wonder how someone could look so contest face asleep like Rosie was, with everything that is going on in the world.

The world wouldn't be that way for much longer, you thought, it was only a matter of time before everything was over.

And the same thing could be said for the blonde sleeping by your side.

The wooden door barged open, alerting you fully awake, as Jojo strutted in. Only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of you. In bed. With his mother.

You could see the slight anger in his eyes, purely out of protection for his beloved mother.

"Good morning, Jojo," Rosie said sleepily as she moved to sit up, looking at the boy with a sleepy smile.

You grunted as she pressed her palm into your abdomen to raise up into a seated position.

"What are they doing here?" he asked, nodding his head towards you.

Rosie looked over her shoulder at you, tired eyes evaluating you. Before she turned back to her son.

"There's something I forgot to tell you yesterday."

You watched the mother and child with slightly wide eyes, not uttering a word, just looking like you wanted to escape this situation.

"What did you forget?"

"The General here-" she patted your abdomen where her hand still resided. "-And I, are seeing each other."

It was a few good long moments as Jojo processed the words. You thought he was going to be angry. It would be natural. You would understand. He was a young boy, one who undoubtedly missed his father and would not be happy with his mother being with anyone else.

But you also had to understand that he idolised you, if only for your -albeit fake- position in the German military.

And yet, you were still surprised and confused by what he said next.

"A lion?"

Rosie smiled brightly, nodding her head, "A lion."

"A lion?"

That was the first thing you said that morning, and it was full of confusion.

But it fell on deaf ears.

Jojo nodded once at his mother before turning on his heel and walking from the room, without saying what he initially came in for.

"What?"

Rosie smiled at you.

"Come on, we should get moving."

The bed shook and bounced as she got up from the bed, preparing to get ready for the day.

"I'm so confused," you almost whimpered, only gaining a soft giggle in return.

***

Permanent Tag List: 

@imnotasuperhero, @veteranwerewolf95, @natasha-danvers, @marvelfansince08love, @higherfurther-romanova, @lesbian-x-blackwidow, @sestra-inestro, @thelastavenger-3000, @mixed-fandom-mess,

SFW Tag list: 

@peggycarter-steverogers, @natalia-quinzel,

(I didn’t know if you guys wanted to be tagged in this, but...)

[rrickgrrimes8]

I’ve Got You ~ Mitch Rapp

Mitch marched into the room - masculinity shrouding every inch of his toned body. Unknowingly to him her attention immediately switched to his presence as soon as he entered. Her eyes lingered and mismerised his entire body - from his chocolate orbs to his flexed bicep - awe and arousal oozed off of her.

If she wasn't in the midst of her own conversation believe me she would be drooling a river over him. "So, (y/n), I would like you to train with someone else - perhaps one of the higher tiers. I don't think that it is working out between you and I. I think you need more of a challenge." Her trainer, Daniel, informed wearing a friendly childlike smile.

Since she started this training program at her gym the employees there which also happen to be all men underestimated her abilities and strength. So because of their ignorance and blatant misogyny they paired her with the - said in the nicest way possible - weakest dude in the whole place. Don't get me wrong Daniel is a good guy and is now a great friend to (y/n) but they clearly aren't the best pair due to the clear superiority of (y/n).

"Yeah... yeah sure who?" She muttered kind of dreading the fact that she would have to leave the only friend she made in this place for probably a disgusting sexist pig. "Ugh well I have no clue who it is but you're meeting him in..." Daniel paused checking his watch, "right now." He smiled sweepingly but the nerves in (y/n) just stared to settle in and a hurricane of anxiety bombarded her. She had never been good with new people let alone people that already see her as a inferior.

"What?! I-I can't do it now. I should have time to prepare -you know like about two weeks and I'll be ready." She informed hopefully but was met with the familiar sound of Daniels chuckle. "Oh c'mon you'll be okay. You need to get out of your comfort zone anyways then maybe you'll get up enough courage to ask out walking muscle man." She shook her head ferociously before breaking out into a burst of laughter at the nickname 'walking muscle man.'

"Excuse me what the hell is a walking muscle man?" (Y/n) chuckled into the palm of her hand while Daniel gave her an amused look. "You know who I am mean (y/n)." He insisted but she shook her head. Daniel leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "Mitch." Her face immediately darkened at the mention of him.

How did Daniel know about my obsession? Is it that obvious? Who else knows? Does everyone know? These thoughts swam around her head like fishes in a tank. Her cheeks were basically inflamed and the nervous tick she had adapted from her childhood of tapping her foot has returned.

"W-what are you talking about?" She whispers back fear evident in her question. "Oh don't act dumb I know you like him. It's pretty obvious." She groaned. "It is?"

"So you admit him?" Daniel clapped back causing (y/n) to fall into a deeper pit of embarrassment. "Oh god." She said burying her head into her hands. "Oh yes." Daniel smiled content with the fact he finally got it out of her.

Daniel had caught on to the fact whenever Mitch ever entered a room her attention was drawn to him regardless of what she is doing at the time - which includes them being in the middle of a boxing match which happened many times and believe him never ends well. He also caught on to the many times she attempted to go up to him and introduce herself but quickly ran away before he noticed.

"Is it really that obvious?" She complained. "Not to anyone but me. You see sweetheart I know you very well indeed and I know for a fact that you cannot take your eyes off of him." Daniel paused looking around the room. "And from the looks of it neither can he." (Y/n)'s head shot up at his comment and furrowed her eyebrows.

"W-what?" Daniel laughed at her like he had been doing for the entirety of their conversation. To say the least it seemed that he was enjoying this little matching making session a little to much for (y/n)'s liking. "Don't look now but a certain Mitchy moo is looking right at you." He said nodding over to where Mitch was stood.

(Y/n) didn't hesitate to shoot her head over to where he pointed and as soon as she did she was met with Mitchs familiar pair of dreamy eyes. As soon as (y/n)'s gaze hit his his head instantly pulled down avoiding her at all cost. "And you looked anyway." Daniel sang. "Shut up." She replied sticking her tongue out at him.

"Oi (y/l/n) aren't you supposed to be training right now?!" Someone bellowed from the other end of the room. "Shit." The (y/h/c) girl collected all of her stuff recklessly and ran off to where she usually had her training sessions but obviously now she wouldn't be so kindly blessed with his presence but now instead she is going to have to do the worst thing imaginable- socialise.

She entered her little room of the gym and placed her stuff down ordering it as best as she can. "Finally I didn't think you'd show up." A deep almost intimidating voice acknowledged her. Usually she wouldn't be so panicked just by one voice but now it panicked her beyond belief knowing who that voice belonged to. Mitch. "I-oh right oh s-sorry was caught with...-"

"With chatting with your boyfriend?" Mitch interrupted coldly while strapping the straps in his boxing gloves. "W-what? Boyfriend? Never!" She spluttered still not facing Mitchs way scared of what kind of shade of red her face had formed this time. "You know very well who I am talking about (y/l/n). I went out there and saw the two of you so don't act dumb. It's not a good look on you or at least I would say that if I could actually see your face but alas it seems that you have lost the ability to face someone other than the guy your fucking." He spat causing (y/n)'s jaw to drop and her eyes slightly water at the tone of his voice - which may I add reminded her of the trauma she came her to overcome.

"T-the guy I'm fucking? I don't understand M-Mitch." She heard Mitch let out a heavy stressful sigh which she guessed was probably accompanied with an eye roll or two. "God you can't be serious." He laughed humourlessly as if it was obvious who he was talking about.

(Y/n) stayed silent waiting for him to actually form a sentence that didn't ask for more questions than answers. "Daniel." He muttered causing (y/n) to spin around a little to fast causing her to begin to fall down. The girl closed her eyes preparing for the hard impact of the ground but instead was embraced by  a pair of toned arms.

"I've got you." He whispered as she opened her (y/e/c) eyes. "I'm not dating, fucking or even thinking about Daniel in that way. I never have and certainly never will. He's just a friend." She reassured him despite not understanding why it mattered so much to him that he need some reassurance.

The words brought a small curve to his plump lips as he held the (y/b/t) girl softly. "Why do you care, Mitch?" (Y/n) finally said breaking the silence that had formed between the pair. "B-because I think I like you." She smiled at him disregarding the feeling that this might be a trick or some sort of weirdly realistic dream and she started to lean in. As their lips inched closer and closer she could tell Mitch was become more anxious by the second.

Just when their lips were about to join Mitch let go. (Y/n) fell back first onto the flooring and surprisingly Mitch accidentally fell too - on top of her. "What the actual fuck, Mitch?" She snapped feeling as if the dream that she was about to experience was completely ripped away. (Y/n) pushed Mitch off of her and sat up waiting for some sort of explanation.

"I-I'm s-sorry." Mitch said not even making a move of getting up but instead completely giving up and just laid there - heart broken. "I thought you said you liked me." The now sat upright girl spoke timidly the tears building up rapidly. "I do." The broken man admitted. "Then why did you let go?"

"I'm scared." (Y/n) was shocked with his confession clearly not expecting the great Mitch Rapp to admit when he's scared of something but now the question is - what? "Scared of what Mitch? Of me?" She asked fear dripping from every syllable.

"Yes! No! Maybe! Kinda! I don't know (y/n). I don't know anything except that I like you and I'm scared." Mitch bursted his hands subconsciously running through his dark hair. (Y/n)'s eyes narrowed in on me hoping for a better explanation than what he had shown so far.

"I-i lost someone. Someone really important to me- someone I loved. A-and now I have to figure out a way to understand how to get by without her. Looking at what am I now compared to three months back I'm better, yes, but not fixed. And with you despite not even having a conversation I feel at peace and sometimes when I just watch you train or eat lunch or anything I sometimes forget about that person. And that makes me hate myself. Then when I almost kissed you that made the hate I have inside overflow." Mitch paused looking over at the teary eyed girl.

"I-it just feels like I'm falling. Like I'm falling from the tallest building I've ever seen and no matter how long I fall for I never hit the ground and you have no idea how much I wanna hit the ground. But I also know if I do hit the ground then I'll lose myself and all the steps I have taken to change from that broken person I was. I want to hit the ground because I want to stop falling but maybe instead of meeting the ground maybe I need someone to catch me. I know I need someone to catch me. So I'm scared hell im petrified b-because I think that person might be you." Mitch concluded his voice cracking at different points and his eyes wouldn't dare to look at her anymore not after the amount of over sharing he just did.

He closed his eyes ready to attempt to settle his thoughts thinking that maybe (y/n) had just left due to the shock bomb he had just dropped on her until a pair of soft perfect lips landed on his. He immediately kissed back grabbing the sides of her face deepening the kiss of that was possible. (Y/n) pulled away causing him to reluctantly open his eyes to see her red and puffy ones.

"I've got you."

[rosesnink]

Revealings Of The Heart (Hayley x Ernest)

A/N: A few weeks ago, I got this ask of my dear friend @missameliep​ asking about Hayley and Ernest’s first kiss. So I thought to make a whole one shot so it is better explained, because it has been in my mind for months how they could kiss and in a better, more appropiate age for both of them. 

Summary: Hayley graduated a few days ago and is about to go back to England to start her adult life, but an unexpected visit with a very shocking revelation makes her life make a spin of 365º. 

Hayley packed the last piece of cloth, hoping that she packed her necessities and has sold some things she didn’t need: uni books she didn’t enjoy to new fellow students, clothes she grew to loathe, ugly presents from former relationships and even has made some essays to lazy but rich people who had nothing to lose. Of course, Directora Nieto suspected, but found no proof because uni teachers did not pay attention to anything that were plagiarism on online essays, not even the detail of handwriting or narrating.

“Tú, Hayls, ya tienes todo listo?” Her roomie, Andrea, asked.

“Si, todo listo. Mi vuelo vendrá a la tarde-noche.” She replied.

Andrea sat on the luggage, knowing well what came next: closing off everything.

“Oh, boy, here we go again.”

She was taking her last stroll over the city when she got a call “Hol—”.

“Hayley! Remember me? I’m Lydia Sinclaire!” Mrs. Sinclaire beamed.

“I do! I do.”

“I’m in Madrid now on a business trip on my husband’s behalf. Please tell me I can see you!”.

Hayley chuckled “Sure, no problem. Let me text you an address and I’ll meet you in twenty.”

Hayley sent her the address to Gran Via and she lost no time, taking a taxi and stopped on that famous building of Madrid everyone started to go. She found her visit in the middle of the street, looking anxious. She caught her arm and the woman twisted it and she cried of pain! Then, she let go of it and gasped “Oh! Sorry, darling, I thought you were an attacker.”

She winced before laughing “Don’t worry. That was actually impressive. Shall we?”.

The woman nodded as they both walked towards the fancy building and got into the elevator, where it was just the two of them. Hayley then fished from her bag a dress and took off her shirt and pants, startling Mrs. Sinclaire! She put on the black dress and placed the clothes on her back. She fished her small make-up bag and put on red gloss and a quick and accurate eyeliner of the shape of an eye cat. She finally let her hair loose and put on some perfume from a very tiny bag. She placed it all in her bag and laughed at Mrs. Sinclaire’s shocked expression “What? Don’t tell me you never did this when my age?”.

“No! I was too much of a good girl. Good Lord, when did you learn these things?!”.

“Before renting a flat, I lived with my maternal grandfather who is very conservative, but my grandma taught me a trick or two. He never found out of our schemes.”

Lydia laughed shocked but amused at it “And why do you still do it?”.

“Because you never know when you’re invited to a drinking in the street in twenty minutes or to a clandestine party at a forbidden place?”.

“My God, and I thought English women were rebellious…”.

“Spanish people love three things: food, parties and holidays, and everything free. Drinking is their culture. There are some those who don’t like it or stay in, but some of them are known for that, especially the Southern! Partying in Andalusia and Valencia is the Spanish Vegas, and in some occasions, the European Vegas.”

The elevator dinged and they both entered when they saw Hayley’s attire and passed them to VIP.

After some chit-chat, Mrs. Sinclaire shook her head in disbelief “So you’ve graduated top of your class in Complutense but haven’t got a job yet? Need I to put you in good word with anybody?”.

“No, but thanks. I don’t want my rich family to interfere, I wanna earn it, like my friends here.”

The woman raised the glass “I’ll drink to that.”

When her pint returned to the table, she asked “How’s your family? I understand they’re all well?”.

“Hm, my husband is resisting cancer and my son is growing taller and more handsome by the day. Already 23 and showing a great promise in the family business!” She fished her phone and showed a pic of him where he wasn’t aware he was being photographed. He looked very handsome, really: his curls were now softer and he was taller than before -he couldn’t be more than 6’8 or how Spanish said, 1’90 metres- and his features had hardened and there was a hint of a beard on his chin.

“He is… taller. Last time I saw him he was 6’5 feet tall and I was, like, 5’8.”

“My dear, you were 17 by then! You’re 21 now. He won’t admit it, but he has missed you.”

Her heart accelerated, but kept a poker face “He did?”.

“Yes! Always asking if you’d be home by Christmas or the festivities. His birthdays haven’t been the same without you there.”

She chuckled bitterly “I highly doubt that…”.

She pulled her shoulder teasingly “They have been! He was always so sad he didn’t have any present of yours…”.

She shook her head in disbelief and Lydia looked at her earnestly “During years, he has awaited for your reply to his mobile message. He was a bit depressed that you didn’t answer, even though he told you he was in love with you!”.

Her head whipped to her direction “He what? W-what message?”.

“One call he made you when you first got to Madrid! Here, I’ve got a copy.”

She played it and Hayley could hardly believe it.

Hayley, I know I should feel ashamed. Our age difference is concerning, but you’re leaving now and I cannot hide it any longer. I must unburden myself before it consumes me: I am courting a woman, yes, but she is not you. Every time I look at her, she reminds me that she isn’t you. That she doesn’t have your mysterious green eyes I could get lost looking at all the time, or your lips, or the way you speak, so hypnotic… It is no secret to anyone but you that I am in love with you, and I wish to be yours in the most respectful way. Please call me back if you hear this. If your feelings aren’t the same, I will remain your most ardent, humble and loyal friend.

The message ended and Hayley was wide-eyed, in complete disbelief and speechless. She remembers the kind guy, Carlos, who turned out to be obsessed with her escorting her and left her phone there with him, when one of the reasons she went to study aboard was that the man she was in love with and had broken up a relationship with didn’t like her back, indeed liked her back all this time!

“How long?”.

“Since he was 14.”

She rested her head on her palms “Fuck.” She was stunned, very stunned and undone “I must go to England now. I have to tell him before I bury it deep again. Here, have some euros for the ride and the check, I have a flight to take.”

Mrs. Sinclaire smiled, knowing she did well in telling her, knowing that hours ago, Ernest was aware that Hayley returned his affections too. Her plan was almost complete.

Five hours ago, in England

“You’ve got it all, Mother?”

“Yes, I’m waiting for one last mail, can you grab it yourself?”

Ernest frowned “Why?”

“Because I have to go to the bathroom and I’ll tell you anyways the content of it.”

He shrugged “Fair enough.”

He snagged some letters that he passed through: bills, more bills, a letter from Hayley Parker—he stopped in short.

Yes, that was indeed Hayley Parker’s handwriting. He opened it, taking care that his mother wasn’t staring before he read it.

Dear Ernest:

I know I have no right, that I am far too young to you, but I don’t think I can ignore this any longer.

I’m in love with you, Ernest. It was never Louis, or James, or Peter. It was you, Ernest. It was you all along, it has always and will always be you. And if there’s someone else, I do not want them, I want you.

I am aware that you are with someone else, but I must know before I decide before I go. I must know what it’s in your heart.

Maybe I was afraid that you’d reject me for being too young or childish for you, but I know you’re not that kind of guy. I know it. I know you.

If there is any chance that there could be a you and I, please meet me at the gates of my flight.

Love,

Hayley.

His heart raced as he started to take it all in.

All this time, she felt the same! But then, who avoided him receiving this letter those five years ago?

He thought as he tried not to sound too interested in when would Hayley come back.

Then, his phone rang. Felicity Holloway. He answered politely “Yes?”

“Hello, Ernest! I was thinking about whether we should get a coffee and talk. Remember that my father said five years ago that I’d be a good girlfriend to you in that dinner? Well, I was thinking—.”

“Felicity, may I know when was that dinner? I’m in a bit of a hurry. Business to get done.”

Could she be cruel enough to do that?

“Oh, that was in the 12th of December, after we got rid of that scum of Parker—.”

He couldn’t even stop himself “So it was you, then?”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“You knew about the letter. The one where Hayley confessed she reciprocated my feelings for her!”

“I—.”

“We will talk soon about privacy… and boundaries.” And then, he hanged up.

His mother emerged and placed a hand on his shoulder “Go, my boy. Run to her. Do not become her father. No matter what, go to her.”

He didn’t know how, but he understood that weren’t for his mother, this couldn’t be happening.

So he ran. And ran. And ran. He didn’t stop, even though there was a small drizzle going on.

He arrived at Westminster Bridge, a bit soaked and panting. He couldn’t believe his eyes. There she was, older, a bit tanner and more beautiful than ever. They looked at each other in the eyes. She approached him slowly, and so did he. And then, they were close. Two more steps and he was all hers.

“Ernest, I—.”

He kissed her, without thinking, he just kissed her. And she kissed him back, her hands on his shoulder and hair, not noticing that some paparazzis followed them. Ernest felt like in heaven. Her lips, with the taste of mint as he dreamed many times, duplicated, now mint and a bit of coffee and cherry lipstick. And it tasted so good. He begged her closer and she obliged, biting his lip, making him shudder. They finally separated, now noticing that people were applauding and it was raining heavily, but his mind was too fuzzy, his only thought Hayley.

“Hayley… Hayls. I must know… do you truly have feelings for me?”

She kissed him again, now a bit shortly, a small smile on her lips “I do. Do you?”

“For longer than I care to admit.”

She chuckled, noticing that her makeup was now a mess all over her face and the powerful rain now sent her a chill through her body. Ernest quickly gathered his jacket and placed it on her shoulders and scolded the paparazzis for interrupting a moment.

He called a cab, paying the ride as he handed her a napkin to clean her face. Even though she was all a mess, she was still beautiful. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She smiled at him “So, what does this make us?”

The cab stopped on her townhouse and he took her hand and guarded her on the porch and looked at her “It’d make you my girlfriend, if that is what you want of me.”

She beamed at him, encircling her hands on his shoulders “I’d like nothing more.”

And with that, they kissed again, under the rain, happily knowing that somehow, this wouldn’t end.  

[wishingforatypewriter]

Earning Credentials

Summary: In which Baatar isn’t sure if he’s Kuvira’s boyfriend, but plays the role anyway (pre-empire, but post-Zaofu).

Baatar had spent some time in Ba Sing Se when he was eighteen, though after what he’d seen during the campaign, it felt like a lifetime ago. He’d accompanied his father while he gave a series of lectures at the university’s architecture department, and then stayed behind for a summer term, studying under some of the world’s leading engineering scholars. 

He didn’t remember much of the visit outside of work and endless hours holed up in the library. There had been a few nights out with his classmates, and a date or two with a dance student from the Northern Water Tribe he’d entertained to try—albeit unsuccessfully—and stop pining after his childhood crush. But it was mostly just work. 

After they stabilized the city, he’d been lucky enough to find two of his former classmates, who’d become prominent civil engineers after completing their studies. He now sat alongside them in The Jasmine Dragon—which was among the first wave of establishments back up and running—sharing his plans for the reconstruction of the city. 

One of them, a woman named Li Na who’d grown up in the upper ring, studied the drawings with a pensive frown. “I love the updated rail system,” she said. “The manual lines were so last century. But what happened to the rings? I only see plans for restoring the outer wall.” 

“Kuvira hates the rings,” he said, recalling the sharp words she’d exchanged with the few remaining ministers in the city after she started moving the displaced lower ring residents into vacant houses in the middle ring. “Their maintenance is a drain on the public works funds and they perpetuate inequality. Any Earth Kingdom citizen should be able to move through the city freely.”

“Right on, man,” said Qi from Omashu, who he’d probably convince to join their budding corps of engineers in a month or so. “Your girlfriend has some pretty cool ideas.”

Baatar felt his ears heating up, and willed the embarrassment not to show on his face. He had made out with Kuvira a few times before they left Zaofu, and once or twice very early in the campaign, but he wasn’t quite sure that really gave him boyfriend credentials. He cleared his throat, shuffling the papers laid out on the table. “Actually, we’re really just childhood friends—”

“So she’s single, then?” Qi raised his eyebrows curiously. “I might have to—”

“No.” Baatar said this too quickly and with far too much venom for anyone at the table to miss the fact that he was steeped in likely unrequited love for her. 

Li Na giggled behind her hand and Baatar wanted to evaporate like the steam wafting out of his cup. “Figure your life out, Baatar,” she said. “But let me know when you’re ready to get started. My parents are squandering the family fortune running up hotel bills in Republic City.” 

Before he left the store, Baatar bought an extra oolong tea and a sweet custard bun to go, just in case she hadn’t eaten. He then got in his satomobile—one of the armored dark green jeeps he and Varrick designed for the campaign—and drove down to the lower ring. The chaos in the poorer districts had largely dissipated as Kuvira’s justice fell over the city with the winter frost, but he knew she had every intention of leaving the slums better than she found them. 

He spotted Kuvira at the center of the relief stations, giving orders to the food distribution teams and directing refugees towards the medical tents. She moved with grace and precision, as though the endless work to do and decisions to be made were all part of an elaborate dance performance. 

Baatar stood and watched her for a while, a smile growing on his face when she bent down to clean and bandage a cut on a little girl’s ankle because all the medics were occupied. After she was done, the girl wrapped her arms around Kuvira’s neck and stayed that way until she handed her off to Bolin. Despite the rougher elements of her personality, she’d always had a way with children. Wing and Wei adored her from the first—or they had. Until. 

When there was finally a lull in the onslaught of people in need of her attention, Baatar approached her. Kuvira’s hair was unbound and hung loose down her back—more likely than not to protect her ears from the winter wind—and a few snowflakes were tangled in her long tresses and dark eyelashes. She regarded him with a subtly pleased look that sent his thoughts scattering like a sheaf of papers in an airbender training session. 

He handed her the cup of tea and paper to-go bag without preamble, and her expression broadened into a full-on smile. “How did you know I skipped breakfast?”

Baatar adjusted his glasses, hoping she assumed his red face was only because of the chill. “Just probability. As a rule, you take terrible care of yourself when you’re occupied with something.” 

She’d gotten this way after she was first promoted to captain of the Zaofu guard and when she became a principal dancer in his mother’s company, but now her propensity for overwork had reached new heights. 

Kuvira glared at him. “The state of the Earth Kingdom—”

“Cannot be changed in the time it takes to eat something, and we both know it.”

The glare persisted, but she chose not to argue further. She fished the custard bun out of the bag and took a bite. 

“What did your school friends say?” she asked after a moment, her voice laced with a hint of teasing most people wouldn’t be able to detect. 

“They think it’s possible, and they’re willing to help,” he told her. “We should be able to begin work on the new roads within the week.”

Kuvira nodded. “Good. We need Ba Sing Se running normally again so it can support displaced populations from elsewhere in the northeastern region. My scouts have reported that things have gotten bad with the petty warlords who’ve taken over the mountain towns.” 

Baatar could tell from the set of her jaw that she’d be unable to ignore it. Since coming to Ba Sing Se and seeing the people left most vulnerable by the power vacuum, she’d become obsessively focused on the mission. “You’re sending a team?”

“I’m leading it.”

He supposed he should have assumed that, but had still dared to hope otherwise. “When will you leave?”

“Soon,” she said. “Tomorrow, with any luck. I’m meeting with the security force at noon to discuss the logistics. We should have the plan finalized in a few hours.” 

Baatar glanced at his pocket watch, noting that it was almost a quarter to twelve. “So you were going to skip lunch too?”

“Unimportant,” she said with a dismissive wave, pulling the olive green trench jacket tighter around her as the wind picked up.  

“Untrue,” he retorted. “Do you want a ride back up to the base?” 

“Everyone else has to walk,” she stated, drawing upon her hard-won wisdom in the realm of charismatic authority. 

“Can I walk with you, then?��

“I’m sure you have something more productive that you could be doing with your time,” she said with a pointed look and a half-hidden smile. “But alright.” 

Somewhere between the relief station and the base, Kuvira’s hand ended up in his, and Baatar couldn’t for the life of him tell which of them had started it. 

[moodyoranged]

besties:  bristol & leah <333

how long have they been friends?  since leah came to town,  basically.  they’re just the sort of people that as soon as they were in the same environment,  they were drawn to each other.  like not to go here on the first question but it feels like they were just fated to meet...  destined to be besties...

how did they meet?  in rare form,  leah pushed herself out of her own comfort zone when she met bristol.  before moving to phoenix,  she had had the same friends for ages,  and simply met people through them,  including wes.  but once she kind of became a fish out of water,  she realized she’d have to do a little more footwork.  she met bristol in public on accident,  on a break from trying to force herself to meet people in spin class and at a writing workshop.  they kind of just hit it off talking somewhere after that and the rest?  history.

favorite things to do together?  they’re happy hour girls <3  even when bristol was pregnant they made a point a couple times a week to have a snack or something maybe a fun little mocktail here and there.  they just like sitting around and talking and even though they have such different lives it kind of makes them even better suited to just complain and gab and try and help each other out OR when they can’t just commiserate and be like okay maybe you do kill your boyfriend. maybe he deserved it.

worst fight that they’ve ever had?  i don’t think they’ve ever gotten in like bad fights.  i think like i said above they love to complain to each other and i can see like there being a ruffling of feathers every here and there when someone gets a little too into it you know.  like it’s one thing for me to complain about my partner/family/whatever but you went too far or like sensing some kind of judgement from the other.  but i think they also understand the other is well meaning and it doesn’t become a huge problem. 

what are their relationships like with each other’s siblings?  i don’t think leah’s family really knows bristol.  i don’t think they would have anything against her but in general i just also think they don’t care much about any of leah’s friends.  leah’s met an assortment of bristol’s siblings,  and she gets along with them pretty well.  she’s not the best with kids,  but she’s nice if a little awkward,  and then like she’s spent the most time around tatum,  who doesn’t really love anyone,  but thinks leah is a sexy sarcastic sophisticated woman of the world so she gets to live.

are their zodiac signs compatible?  it looks like perhaps.  because they’re a water sign and a fire sign and that’s hard but it basically said if they can find a way to trust each other an dlike manage to keep up with each other they can have a great relationship it’s just a matter of finding what works for them (which i think they did)

who stays up latest? who wakes up earliest?  bristol is the night person leah is the morning person imo.  could be wrong it’s just faced off immediate vibes but.

what do they like and dislike about one another the most?  i think like they are strong in different ways but truly what they admire about each other most is their strength.  like leah admires bristol’s commitment to her family and like resolve when it comes to doing what she feels is right and bristol admires leah’s confidence and like willingness to walk proudly into any room even with a flopping career and local pariah fiance.  but ig this wasn’t really the question.  i think they like that they’re both bold and funny and brash in the same way but also that might be what they dislike too because sometimes its people that are similar to you that get under your skin. leah’s occasional callousness and bristol’s occasional being closed off are kind of two sides of the same coin,  but that doesn’t make them mesh.

who’s most likely to talk about the other behind their back?  leah.  she’s a bad person.  she knows what’s off limits and wouldn’t be too gratuitous but she and wes are gossips and stuff comes out that’s all.  they tell each other way too much about their lives and days and sometimes that might include leah talking about bristol and retelling stuff she said at happy hour (after swearing wes to secrecy of course).

who has dated, or is more likely to date someone that the other hates? how do/did they reconcile?  i think because they’re so similar they wouldn’t tdate someone the other straight up hates.  like not that either is biting at the bits to date the other’s men they just like wouldn’t hate them.  i suppose there is like a potential though for bristol to have come kind of history with wes and knowing who he was pre becoming world’s sexiest filmmaker and being like you’re so cool and you’re marrying him?   but that’s when she reminds her that teddy simply still actively dresses like the big brother on a late aughts disney channel show so she cannot talk.

do they have sleepovers?  not super frequently,  but they have.  it’s more for when they spent the night hanging out and they’re drunk and don’t wanna go home.  they hang out late into the night sometimes,  but they’re not huge sleepover people just because they’ve got other stuff going on they’re Adult Friends

have they seen each other naked?  i think they’ve changed in front of each other before so like naked to whatever extent that entails.  maybe just underwear maybe no underwear but only from behind like i don’t think they’re trying to show it all off or anything it’s just like getting dressed and not worrying about it if the other gets a glimpse of something

who’s better at giving gifts?  maybe leah slightly.  i don’t think bristol’s offer i just think leah spends a lot of time obsessing over getting to give gifts and stuff it may not always be like uber sentimental but she puts time into figuring it out

do they think they’ll stay best friends forever?  leah does and bristol may be a little more skeptical but i think deep down she perhaps knows

@loveback

[pomeqraniqht]

ship headcanon memeWho? What? When? Where? Why? (Rusty & Sofia. I literally cannot remember if i sent this already asdkjfjga I feel like I did but idk)

WHO? WHAT? WHEN? WHERE? WHY?

I’m procrastinating. If you fancy it send me a ship and a number and I’ll tell you my headcanon.

1. Who makes the first move and how?      - Rusty made the ‘official’ first move between them but they were eye-flirting long before wearing a mask made it cool. But now? They BOTH make the first move when it comes to each other, they aren’t shy from one another and it’s honestly such a blessing to see Sofia come out of her shell for her inked angel because... *sigh* I never thought she’d develop the way she did and these two are just.. ~ugh~ <3 2. Who is the most insecure and what makes them feel better?      - Sofia Patterson/Parker is the most insecure and a smile from her favorite inked angel makes her feel better. Honestly Rusty helps her insecurities but he also adds to them; a lot. I feel like the more serious they’ve become the more pressure she is putting on herself to be ‘perfect’ but then she has those moments where she remembers Rusty doesn’t love her because she’s ‘perfect’ he loves her for who she really is, and she’s the girl who cries whenever he plays their song and falls in love with mint chocolate ice-cream while pregnant with his kids. It’s such a hot mess for her but he always finds a way to bring her back to reality.  3. Who is the most romantic?      - both? Maybe Sofia more than Rusty but by a smidge? They both are romantic in their own ways and I think it’s great it’s not the typical roses and chocolate bullshit (not that that isn’t great and all...) but they’re unique. They show their love in different forms, an example would be for valentine’s day she’s going to suggest they go and get tattoos, or that Rusty picks out a tattoo for her and she gets to pick one for him (if he even has any space left by this point.) 4. Who can’t keep their hands to themselves      - Literally both of them, they can not leave each other alone at all. Sex anywhere and everywhere; it does not matter anymore. So long as they can fit they’ll fuck. They don’t know how to not touch each other anymore, especially when it isn’t sex. It’s always hand holding or he’s got an arm around her or something; they’re always touching somehow.  5. Who says ‘I love you’ first?      - Sofia did the day she told Rusty about the baby, on her old kitchen table... literal hours before they broke up because he cheated on her.  6. Who would they ask if they ever had a threesome?      - I don’t think they would ask anyone? Sofia’s insecurities wouldn’t allow it and I’m not so sure Rusty’s possessive and jealous nature would either.  7. What do they get up to on a night out?      - Depends honestly. Before Rusty got sober they would go out on the town, drink, dance, fuck, and have fun any way they could find. Now? Probably movie night, dinner, sex in the car/bathroom of a movie theatre... 8. What do they like in bed?      - Everything but especially cream-pies and Rusty calling Sofia his dirty little girl because she’s only dirty for him and him only. They’re addicted to each other in ways I didn’t think could be possible.  9. What is the most embarrassing thing they have done in front of each other?      - I want to say for Sofia it’s probably pushing out a baby? If that even counts? Or maybe it’s trying to squeeze into spanx so she doesn’t look like she’s just had a baby. I feel like for Rusty it was the dance of his breakdown and his relapse, his behavior at the clinic and everything.. I think that was a pretty low-point for the both of them.  10. What two songs, two books and two luxury items do they take to a desert island?      - Literally any song Rusty ever wrote; two books: How to Build A Boat for Dummies and What is poisonous and what isn’t. Items? Those reusable matches and a water purifier.  11. What do they hide from one another?      - Sofia used to hide her damages and Rusty used to hide his drug habit (also Sofia hid a baby from him for about 6 months because well...marriage issues). 12. What first changes when it starts getting serious?      - Rusty’s drug use and Sofia’s behavior. She’s like a little clown fish finding her own, she’s obsessed in a way without even intending to. She inserts herself around him and she just needs to be with him. But mostly? It’s the way the two of them think about life after they meet each other. They both LOOK so polar opposite but on the inside? Their souls mirror one another.  13. When do they realise they should get together?      - Officially? The day Rusty gets jealous seeing Sofia talking to her ex-boyfriend. But like super officially? Individually? Rusty realized it the day Sofia told him she was pregnant and left, Sofia realized it the first time he looked her in the eye and he didn’t look at her like he wanted to fuck her... He looked at her like he was a blind man seeing the sun for the very first time.  14. When one has a cold, what does the other do?      - Sofia turns into a private nurse/doctor, whatever he needs he gets. Sofia? She tries to fight off Rusty because they have two kids and moms never get a day off, ever.  15. When they watch a film what do they choose and why? Who gets the final vote?      - Something funny over horror; Sofia can’t stand scary movies and she will have the final vote.  16. When the zombie apocalypse comes, how do they cope together?      - This is a good question and honestly? If a zombie apocalypses happens I feel like they would fight for as long as they possibly could. I’m going to say it happens before they have kids because I can’t imagine their adorable children killed by zombies. I feel like Rusty would go to any length to protect Sofia and vice-versa... I feel like they’re the type who would either go and take over a prison for safe-keeping or go into the woods and fend for themselves that way? They’re not dumb by any means so I feel like they’d have a good chance. But if someone got bitten or died the other wouldn’t be far behind them because if the world was ending and they didn’t have each other? Then what’s the point in living.  17. When they find a time machine, where do they go?      - Sofia would go back to the last day her dad was alive and force him to go to a hospital, maybe somehow they’d be able to save him. I imagine Rusty would go back and stop himself from cheating on Sofia... I don’t want to say he’d go back and never do drugs because I feel like if he wasn’t an addict then maybe they never would’ve met?  18. When they fight, how do they make up?      - Sex. A lot of meaningful and emotional sex.  19. Where do they go on their first date?      - I think their first ‘official’ date was a carnival Rusty had taken her too. They would get together and hook up, have meals and such but... never like an official date.  20. Where do they go on holiday?      - Sofia has always wanted to go to Italy, so maybe there?  21. Where do they get nervous about going with one another?      - Since Rusty is a popular musician, anywhere? But before that I feel like Sofia was nervous of him showing up at her job. It’s a bad thing to admit but he’s a little scary to look at for the younger kids and to be a school teacher a certain type of look is required. But more-so she never cared... she just knew if someone SAID something she would lose it. She’s protective over how people view Rusty and the way they judge him because of his ink, she thinks its bullshit. He’s beautiful. Accept it.   22. Where does their first kiss happen?      - On Dynasty’s dancefloor during some dirty dancing.  23. Where is their favourite place to be together?      - In a bathroom, whether it is in the bath, shower, a sink... Bathrooms are their kryptonite.  24. Where do they first have sex?      - In a bathroom in a club.  26. Why do they need to have a serious chat?      - Because Sofia’s pregnant, Rusty’s using drugs, or Roman said a bad word and said his father taught it to him.  27. Why do their friends get annoyed with them?      - They abandoned their friends for each other, and it’s not one more than the other. They both literally ignored their friends in pursuit of each other.  28. Why do they get jealous?      - Because they see the other talking with someone of the opposite sex. It’s unavoidable at this point, they’re both tangled like vines and without each other they’d both die.  29. Why do they fall a little bit more in love?      - When Rusty touches her nose and calls her ‘Tiny’ in a certain tone of voice, or when he sings lullabies to their babies at night, or when he gets that certain voice as he is talking to their babies in her tummy. For him? I wanna think it’s when she fights for him because up until they met not many, if any, people ever fought for him. she believes in him, she sees the good and light within him even if others don’t. He’s amazing. Go buy his new album now.  30. Why does it work (or not work) between them?      - It works because they even each other out in ways I can’t even begin to describe to you. He makes her feel good, she calms him down. They’re yin and yang, literally opposites but somehow they just work.  @rustyparker

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Hey, it&apos;s been awhile. May I request angst mixed with betrayal from the reader to Arthur? She's an undercover Pinkerton and quickly falls in the VDL gang (Milton ordered her to after his visit in Clemen). She then later finds out about Micah and refuses to team up with him, but make their agreement he can have Dutch and her Arthur. She unintentionally falls in love and can't kill him. She betrays Milton and leaves Arthur. He chases after her but she's long gone, riding away in a train.

Okay, don’t hate me, but this one is not as detailed and skips over a lot of stuff that happened in the game, but that was to save on time. Even then, what I have below was ten pages! This request really could have made out to be a multichapter fic. 

Masterlist

Read on AO3

You stand in the center of the clearing, inspecting the various items scattered around. They were here, that damn gang you’ve been chasing for weeks now. From the way the things they left behind lie, they left in a hurry. But where? The trails they took out of here in their wagons point to the main trail where it’s impossible to track them. 

Ross walks over to you, holding a broken pocketwatch. “Find anything?” he asks you, and you respond with a shake of your head. 

“We need to find these… people,” Milton says, astride his horse. 

He was assigned the mission of hunting down the Van der Linde gang shortly after the Blackwater incident. His focus on them has been nothing short of an obsession. He bumped into one of the higher ups in the gang about a week back. The man had been out fishing with a young boy, presumably his son. Then Cornwall showed up in Valentine and shot Van der Linde and some of his boys out of town, screwing up everything. They clearly fled shortly afterwards. 

You’ve been following the movements of the gang along with Milton and the other men. Their path is dribbled with blood and corpses. You won’t soon forget finding that river full of dead men, the result of a shootout involving some of Dutch’s boys after they robbed a stage. It’s believed the dead belong to a rival gang, though nothing is confirmed yet. 

“You there,” Milton barks at you, beckoning to you. “Have you found anything? Any tracks? I want these men caught.” 

“No, sir.” You say stiffly. Of course he would expect you to have found something, even though no one else has. 

Agent Milton. Even to the other agents, he’s a bastard. He’s worse to you because you’re the only woman. You were recruited into it by your father, who wanted to prove, after the pleadings of your now-dead mother, that women could do the same jobs as men. Milton clearly disagreed with your father and wasn’t afraid to voice it, but as your father is head of the Agency, there was little he could do to dissuade your father. 

“Well, get looking, woman. Otherwise all you’ll be doing is proving sweet old daddy wrong.” 

You ignore the remark and go back to searching. Just because your father put you here doesn’t mean Milton can’t dismiss you, as much as you hate him. Besides, you want to prove that you are just as capable as the rest of the fellas here. 

However, after another few hours of searching, nothing is found that points to where the gang has fled. Milton believes they went either north or east. East is more likely as the mountains in the north are still locked in snow. 

After a couple of weeks go by, rumors have been sprouting up from the town of Rhodes of civil unrest between the two most prominent families in the regions, the Grays and the Braithwaites. Something about it catches your attention. You’ve heard of these families of course, they’re the richest in the area. Could Van der Linde be playing them both in his endless attempts for money? 

You bring the idea up to Milton who dismisses it at first. Of course he does. He can never admit that some of your ideas are actually good. That is until word gets out that most of the Grays were killed during a massive shootout and the Irishman who escaped bounty hunters in Blackwater was shot and killed. Even Milton couldn’t deny that your previous predictions were right, so he takes you and Ross down with him to investigate. 

Finding the gang’s hideout isn’t hard. Ross spotted a huge group of them leaving a cluster of trees in an area called Clemens Point. Van der Linde was with them so Milton deemed it pointless to go into their hideout until morning when it was sure he would be there. 

When it’s time to go to the hideout, Milton stops you. “I’m not going to be held responsible when you get shot,” he says nastily before riding off. That’s it, you’ve had it. You’re sick and tired of Milton and his patronizing. When Ross and Milton return, announcing their unsuccessful attempt at taking down the gang, it’s obvious the gang is going to make another run. It’s time for some real action. 

You ditch your agent’s uniform and don some ordinary clothes, trying to look the part. You’re fairly sure the gang will continue to head east. You would if you were an outlaw. Saint Denis is a good place to hide. Plenty of criminals find a place to disappear there. So you position yourself on the trail and before long, a wagon train led by Van der Linde himself comes your way, so you pretend to be injured. 

You couldn’t have expected things to go so well, but before you know it, you’re ingratiated into the camp. They’ve moved into Shady Belle, but you have to be careful about sneaking off to report it to Milton. Many of the members are suspicious about you, not that you blame them. Your fake backstory has plenty of holes, even you can see that. 

That’s not the only thing stopping you from reporting the gang to Milton, though. After only a couple of weeks, you feel more accepted here than you ever did with Milton and the other agents. It’s clear that both men and women are treated fairly equal. Hell, only the first night, two girls named Karen and Tilly invited you to go robbing, which you did to try and prove you weren’t an officer. 

As you dig yourself deeper in the gang, you find yourself becoming more involved in their lives. They’re not what Milton said they were, savage people who would do anything out of desperation, lacking sympathy for any and all other people. They’re a tight-knit family people and most of them were handed a raw deal in life and are simply trying to make the best of it with what they have. The best example of this is Dutch Van der Linde’s right-hand gun, Arthur Morgan. 

It didn’t take you long of digging to find out his backstory (followed up with what Milton told you). Orphaned at a young age, he was forced to turn to a life of crime for survival and was taken in by Dutch and Hosea. Despite the amount of people he’s robbed and killed, you cannot deny that he is one of the best people you’ve met. Brave, determined, and one of the most loyal people you’ve ever known. 

Throughout your time with the Pinkertons, you saw plenty of cases of agents turning their backs on one another in order to elevate themselves in the ranks. But Dutch and Arthur, they don’t do that. Not because they are the highest in the gang, but because they care about the others. It’s not long after you spend some time with Arthur that you realize you’ve fallen for him, and his behavior towards you says he feels the same. 

Arthur’s sweet and caring. He immediately took you in when you joined, trying to dig into your back story. Then Tilly was kidnapped and you’d gone with them to find her and it was obvious how much Arthur cared. You also witnessed Arthur comforting Tilly when she was found and it melted your heart. A few weeks later, you and Arthur shared your first kiss in the theater in Saint Denis. 

Things quickly changed between you after that. Arthur quickly became the best companion you’ve ever had. Protective, thoughtful. He even liked to go around in camp and hug you, sometimes even kiss you. One night he pulled you onto his lap while he played poker with John and Susan. A few nights after that incident, you and Arthur got drunk and ended up having sex in his bed. It was easily the best of your life. 

A few days have passed since you and Arthur first made love. The gang is busy as a big bank heist is being planned and it’s supposed to happen today. The Pinkerton part of your brain knows you should slip away from the gang and tell Milton about this, but the other part of your brain, the one loyal to Arthur and Dutch, says in a much more powerful voice to leave it alone, so that’s what you decide to do. 

You sit up in Arthur’s cot, stretching. A large hand suddenly slides over your back. 

“You nervous?” Arthur’s voice says. “Your first big heist.” 

“Arthur, I’m not even going to be part of it. I’m staying here, remember?” you laugh and turn around, putting your hand on his bare chest. 

“Yeah, but still. It don’t take a genius to know you’re green at this sorta thing.” 

“Sure, but I don’t think it’ll be a problem. After all, you all seem capable.” 

“Sure,” he says. “Now come here. I’m feelin’... stressed.” 

You smile, knowing Arthur wants to get busy with you again. “Liar, but I’ll humor you.” You lean down and kiss him before straddling his legs and getting to work. 

A few hours later, Arthur walks out of the manor, dressed in his fancy suit. He pulls you into a long, tight kiss before mounting his horse. You watch him and the others ride off. Micah Bell turns and gives you a look that unsettles you for some reason. 

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

Shortly after the heist, the news came that the robbery had gone as far south as it could have. Most of the men who went are missing, John’s imprisoned and Lenny and Hosea are dead. Somehow Milton found out about the robbery, even though you haven’t seen him since the gang left Rhodes. However, you can’t shake a feeling of guilt for the incident. How could you not? You’re a Pinkerton, and it was your men who destroyed everything. 

While Dutch, Arthur and the others are missing, you help the gang as best you can, but you also have a feeling that Milton’s patience with you has grown extremely thin. So when you can manage to slip away from the gang without attracting suspicion, you meet up with Milton. 

“We managed to catch Van der Linde in the act of robbing the bank without your aid, Miss (your last name). If it were up to me, I’d have you imprisoned with the rest of those men who remain for aiding criminals.” 

You swallow nervously, knowing he could easily have you arrested. There’s enough evidence to prove his word too. Not even your father could keep you out. 

“However, I am willing to make a deal for those who have earned it,” Milton says, his eyes cold. “So I will make you one now. Give me Van der Linde and I will not give your dear daddy the horrible truth.” 

“I can’t,” you say. “I don’t know where he is. After he managed to escape your lot, he disappeared along with the other men left alive from the heist.” 

“My lot, hmm?” Milton says. “My, I never thought highly of you to begin with, but even I gave you credit to not stoop so low.” 

You blush a bit, aware of the other men staring hard at you. “Milton, give me one more chance. I can try to fix this with the least amount of damage. I’ll do my best to bring you Van der Linde.” 

To your surprise, Milton agrees, so you return to the gang. A few weeks later, Dutch, Arthur and the others return. Soon after, the gang moves up to Beaver Hollow and then things really fall apart. Molly gets killed for supposedly ratting the gang out to Milton, which doesn’t sound right to you. Milton never mentioned a member of the gang spilling the beans. 

Things quickly go downhill after this. Dutch has clearly begun to lose his mind, his ideas are getting wilder and more risky. Arthur and some of the others try to slow him down, including you, but you’re also under a lot of pressure. Milton made it clear that you’re expected to report to him in order to avoid him telling your father what you’ve really been doing. He’s using your role as a double agent to his full advantage. Somehow though, Dutch still evades Milton’s grasp, and luckily so does Arthur. You, however, are not counting on this to last. 

Soon after Arthur and John destroy the bridge near the fort, you sit Arthur down, finally at your wit’s end. This pressure from Dutch and Milton is really straining you. In the quiet and privacy of your shared tent, you beg Arthur to run away with you. 

“Arthur, I have a way for us to get out. I… I can’t guarantee everyone else will come with us.” 

“What you talkin’ about, darlin’?” 

It’s time to come clean, you decide, so you tell him the truth. Arthur is beyond furious He storms out of the tent without bothering to give you a response. It’s not long afterwards that everyone else discovers your dirty little secret. Dutch stomps over, grabs you by the hair, and throws you down in the center of camp. 

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t shoot you now!” he hollers as you try fruitlessly to fight him off. 

“Because Milton wants me dead just as much as you! And I didn’t ask to be a Pinkerton, my father forced me to.” 

“Lies! You’re the reason Hosea and Lenny are dead!” 

“Bullshit! I didn’t say a damn word about that to Milton! That was Micah, all Micah! Milton told me.” 

Micah walks up, smirking. “Really? And who do you think everyone here is going to believe?” 

Dutch throws you to the ground and Susan walks over, a shotgun in hand. By the look of her face, you know exactly what’s coming for you. No one steps up to defend you either, not that you can blame them. Your secret is the worst kind of betrayal. 

Without thinking, you stand up and run, smashing through the circle by pushing your way through Tilly and Jack. Shots fire out and somehow they miss. As you mount your horse, you dare one last look at Arthur. The look on his face breaks your heart. Dashing down the trail, you know what you’re going to do. 

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

Milton paces back and forth in front of you, pondering your proposal. “So… I have your word, miss, that you’ll give me Van der Linde?” 

“Yes. As long as you spare Arthur Morgan. And maybe John Marston and his wife and child.” 

“I get one life and you’re spared the lives of three degenerate murderers and criminals and their bastard child? No, you can pick one.” 

“Fine,” you say, your heart breaking. “Then Arthur. Give me your word you’ll spare Arthur and I’ll give you Dutch Van der Linde.” 

Milton gives you a sickening smile. “Deal.” You make him sign the contract you wrote up and then Ross signs it as a witness before you do as well. This way, Milton has no way to go back on your word and you take the paper. Sighing after resolving yourself to this complete betrayal, you tell Milton where Dutch is. Shortly afterwards, Milton leaves with his men and he orders you to stay put. 

The next few hours are nothing short of hell. Will Milton keep his word? Will he spare Arthur or will he bring back the news that he got killed in an “accident”? You can only imagine the rage Arthur will feel if and when he finds out what you’ve done, but you can only hope he understands why. Dutch has gone insane. He’s been on a suicide trail ever since Guarma and he’s taking everyone down with him. 

Finally, gratefully, the group of Pinkertons returns, but Milton isn’t with them. Ross explains that after Milton shot Dutch, the gang scattered and Milton was killed in the crossfire. When you ask about Arthur, he sneers. 

“You don’t have to worry about your poor choice in romance, miss. Mr. Morgan escaped without a scratch, just like we promised. I may have uh, let slip that you’re the reason why his devoted leader died.” 

Fuck. You were hoping he wouldn’t find out, but you’re not surprised. Ross is nearly as loathed as Milton was. 

“Very well. I held up my end of the deal. Now tell me where Arthur is and let me go.” 

Ross shrugs his shoulders and tells you that Arthur’s heading back west with some of the others who escaped. You quickly mount up and run in that direction, hoping to find him. After a few days of scouring and trailing, you find Arthur riding along with John, Abigail, Jack, Charles and Sadie. You scream his name and Arthur stops. 

When he sees you, Arthur looks beyond furious. As you approach, he whips out his gun and points it at you. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill ya where ya stand!” he roars. 

“Arthur! It’s… it’s me,” you say, tears streaking down your cheeks. “I didn’t want to, but I had to. To keep you alive.” 

“I saw Milton put a bullet through Dutch’s head. That was on you! If it weren’t for the fact that you and I were lovers, I’d be putting one through yours too.” 

“Are… are we not lovers anymore, Arthur?”

His face tells you that he could not be more disgusted by you. “You could have done anything else, Y/N. Anything! We coulda protected ya from Milton and his men. It ain’t like you were the only one hiding from the Pinkertons.” 

“I told you and you all threw me out! Hell, Susan tried to shoot me!” you scream, trying to make Arthur see why you did it. 

“You shoulda told me from the start! Instead, you lied to us, you betrayed us!” Arthur narrows his eyes. Sadie and John have pulled out their guns by this point, but he instructs them to put them away. “I loved you once, Y/N. I’m giving you this one chance to live. Now get outta my sight.” 

Your heart breaking, you turn your horse and run off. Arthur’s reaction is like a slap in the face. Of all people you thought might understand, you thought he would. 

However, you decide to try and learn from this mistake. Instead of heading home and to your father, you stay out west and become an outlaw. 

Years pass with no word from Arthur. Nothing would make you happier than to see him again, to apologize properly and wish him a true good bye, but you understand his desire to stay away from you. Word comes of a JM who bought a property called Beecher’s Hope outside of Blackwater and you have a suspicion it just might be John Marston, but you don’t visit. You choose to stay at Hanging Dog Ranch, running your own gang. They like calling themselves the Laramie Boys, which you don’t discourage. 

One afternoon, you’re sitting in the attic of the house on the ranch, planning to rob a train that will be coming through in the next week. The air is suddenly filled with gunfire, men shouting. You quickly grab your own guns and head out, fully aware that your ranch is being attacked.

Just as you hit the bottom of the stairs, the air goes silent. However, there’s a lingering feeling that someone is outside, waiting for you. After peaking out the window, your heart stops when you see who it is. 

Arthur stands there, a rifle in one hand. Standing next to him is John. Something tells you they aren’t here for a social call, but they also don’t know it’s you. With a heavy sigh, you open the door and walk out. 

John holds up his gun and points it at you, but Arthur looks shocked. 

“Hello, John. Arthur. You two look good. How’s Jack? Boy must be… what, fifteen?”

“We ain’t here to chat, Y/N,” John says. He gives Arthur a sympathetic look. 

Arthur sighs heavily and looks at you properly. “Y/N. Ten years ago, you betrayed us. You betrayed Dutch in order to save me. Your selfish deeds have been called in.” 

Your stomach drops when you realize what he means. “Arthur, why? You were happy to let me live before.” 

“I’m sorry. I wanted to let ya go, I really did. But… The Pinkertons weren’t satisfied.” 

“They have my family, Y/N. We were told to… to hunt down all our old gang members so I can get them back.” 

This doesn’t seem right to you. “John, I made a deal with those bastards. I gave them Dutch, and Arthur and I got to live.” 

“They see things different, Y/N,” Arthur says, his voice heavy. He doesn’t say it, but he still loves you. He was heartbroken when he found out what you did to get Dutch killed, but there were many times in the years following when he wanted to find you. After all, he knew Dutch was beyond saving and would have taken everyone down with him, but he didn’t want to see it then. 

You swallow, tears filling your eyes. “I see. Well, do what you must, friends. But don’t think that they won’t betray you as they’ve betrayed me. You think they won’t kill you both? You’re gang members too. They want us all dead.” 

“I can’t think about that, Y/N!” John shouts, almost desperate. “They have my family!” 

You hold your head high and look at Arthur. “Okay. Do me one favor though. I’ll make it easy.” You unhook your gun belt and let it fall. “My one request is that you do it, Arthur. I did the worst thing to you, and you deserve your revenge.” 

Arthur looks away, and then he looks back at you. “Don’t you remember what I told ya about revenge? It’s a fool’s game.” 

“Arthur. My family.” 

Arthur turns to him. “We can get them back still, Marston. After all, we got a former Pinkerton here. Something tells me she’s got some dirt she’d be happy to dig up on ‘em.” 

You smile. “Oh do I. If I told the agency the filth Milton did in order to meet his ends, they’d be shocked.” 

Arthur smiles and drops his gun. “Good. Then come with us, darlin’. We can protect ya.” 

You sigh and shake your head. “I don’t deserve it, Arthur. I’m the reason this all happened.” 

Arthur walks up and stops a few feet from you. “I know why you did it, darlin’. You didn’t have a choice. I didn’t see it that way before, but I’ve had enough time to see it for how it really was. Dutch would have killed us all, but you managed to only let him get killed and the rest of us got away. Not to mention the Wapiti. Who knows what trouble Dutch would’ve gotten them in to.” 

Before you can respond, Arthur’s arms are around you. He pulls you tight against him and you begin to sob. Only God knows how much you’ve missed him. John clears his throat and reminds you both that he has a family to save. 

“Sorry, Marston,” you say, wiping your eyes. “Now let’s go get your family.” 

With a new resolve, you walk back to the horses hand in hand with Arthur, determined to fight to the very death if you must to set things right. It seems a lot easier now that you have Arthur by your side. With him here, you could take on the entire world if you wanted to.

[missielee]

Passion

Day 1&2: Fish & Wisp

Fish – such a fascinating creature

It was Olivia’s first passion as well as pet

When she was seven, her dad took her and her sister to the aquarium downtown.

It was magnificent, she said

It was like a different world, she said

Engulfed by a singular color blue, she was mesmerized by all the moving little diamonds around her

Colorful scales glimmered in the tank lights, felt like thousands stars on the sky

They moved oh so gracefully, bubbles curved along their fins

It was like a water dance.

That was at least ten years ago, little Olivia has already turned into a beautiful young woman who is passionate about the ocean life, specifically sea creatures. Fascinated by them, she indulged hours in books on her dad’s shelves and pursued her dream to become, well, quoted on quote “Fish”.

Fish is a peculiar animal. They live in water and absorb oxygen through their respiration system which is the gills. Their body is covered in scales worked as camouflage, protection and swimming aid. Their fins flutter through the current as they sway their body elegantly. What could possibly better than being a fish, swimming freely in the water blue?

“I prefer whale better” Janet voiced her opinion out loud

“What? That swimming elephant? No way!” Olivia eyed her friend in disbelief “That’s not even a fish!”

“It’s a sea creature too so it sorta counts. Also, FYI, that is super mean. That’s probably equivalent to pointing out someone is obese in fish language.” Janet rolled her eyes, continued eating her lunch

“Whale and dolphin are mammals, so not a fish. Beside, would you really want to be a whale? Big, giant blue whale?”

“Uh, whale is my spiritual animal, therefore, yes I’ll be the big giant and BEAUTIFUL blue whale” a glare was directed right back to Olivia “At the very least, I won’t get eaten by other species”

“Other than human, sure!” Olivia sipped her water “You do know that a fair amount of whale was hunted for meat and oil in the past right?”

“Whale hunting was a thing?”

“Yeah, it was like a thing back in 1800s. Products made from whale, mainly oil, are incredibly valuable. A barrel of sperm-whale oil can even went up to 1500$ per barrel” Olivia shrugged “But it wasn’t used much nowadays because many better resource appeared: like Kerosene, vegetable oil, petrol”

“Uh huh, you know a lot about whale for someone who just insult it” Janet smirked upon her “You like whale too, don’t you ~”

“Said the one who have their nose in Moby Dick like twenty times or something. I only know some of the basic thing about whale”

“Hey, that book is a masterpiece! Brave men against the nature! Battling fearlessly! Unlike you and you’re fish tank obsession.”

Olivia couldn’t bother to say back. It’s true that she’s have an itsy bitsy infatuation with fish, but she couldn’t explain it why she adores them that much. Some have told her she could become mermaid like those performs in aquarium shows but Olivia refused. Even though it was her dream to become of them, she absolutely hates mermaid/merman in generally because mermaid doesn’t swim like a fish does, according to her logically research. Since mermaid have different anatomy, their swim movement is up-and-down, which isn’t the normal side-to-side like fish does. In addition to that, mermaid eats fish, explained her dislike towards becoming one. She understood that it’s normal to pray on one to another in the animal kingdom but she cannot stand the idea of feasting on such pretty shiny thing. ‘I mean people might have evolved enough to even eat gold but not diamond, right?’

It’s not the first time she realized turning into a fish is practically impossible. Despite her fascination of the marine life, she apparently have Thalassophobia, which prevents her from any activities near the open water. It was upsetting to Olivia, having to spend her life in pictures capturing a small part of the vast water part. It’s like try to play puzzles with endless pieces and they all have the same shade of color. No amount of therapy could help her reach the board of the ship, the closest she could ever get is the lightly wet sand shore. Moreover, there’s an unexplainable feeling when she reaches the ocean, she hears it whisper her name in sad serenity. And on a more frightening term, it always seems to seep closer and closer to her.

“Livvy? You’re spacing out again. Come on, we’ll be late for class” she snapped out of her daze, turn to see her friend already finished packing her belongings

Checking her phone, 2:45 and her class started at 3, she needed to hurry.

“Oh I almost forgot. You’ll come to the Jake’s party this evening, right?”

“Beach party? Not so sure, you know how I feel about it”

“It’s just on shore. I’ll be there too. Don’t worry, if anyone tries to drag you near the water then they’ll have to go through me” Janet smirked. Three years in Aikido is enough to take anyone down, not to mention she was a three times champion of the city, as if that isn’t intimidating enough but it ensures Olivia enough to have a good time by the sand.

“But this evening already? I thought it’s on 13th?”

“Today is the 13th, Goldfish. Did you fall head over heel for Jake so far that you forgot to check for the actual date?”

“I might have mistaken a Friday for a Saturday. But that doesn’t make me a goldfish! And goldfish have good memory! The five seconds attention span is a myth!” Olivia exclaimed

“I guess your attention span is probably so filled with Jake that you can only remembered that he has invited you~”

The two kept bickering as they walked each other to class, like all the other days.

  It was around eight when Olivia and Janet arrived at the party, and it sure is a lively one. The torch lit up the area but it was no match to the people’s dancing along the live music band. Sound of chatters mixed with the awry waves of the sea like a symphony. Olivia immediately spotted Jake in the crowd by the barbecue, greeting newcomers and grilled the ribs with his cheerful expression bright like sunlight. Janet could guess what millions thoughts going through her bestie’s mind as she pulled her over to the food court.

“Hey Jake, nice buns you got there. Mind if we have a taste?” Jake laughed wholeheartedly  

“Why I wouldn’t mind you two lovely ladies to have a taste of my delicious buns, of course!” A wink sent towards them as Olivia reddened

“I-I-I brought some cakes from Rosie’s! A-And I think it’s a great party!” Jake took the box from Olivia and gave both of them a small dish

“I love Rosie’s cake! This is great for desert! Thanks Olivia!”

And needless to say, Janet had to play the waitress and lead a very blush female to a table while holding two dish of steak.

“Oh Janet! Did you see him smiling at me? He’s so nice!” Janet have a gulp of soda after settling down and listening to her friend’s love rant.

“Eat your steak Olivia or I’ll help you know how it’s like to be fish”

“Alright, no need to do that. I’m not some toddler, you know” Olivia sulked and cut a piece

Olivia notice a newspaper left next to her seat, seemed like it was today’s news. Curious, she decided to have a look since Janet had went to get a second plate.

“BREAKING NEW:  SUCCESSFULLY FOUND THE ONLY SURVIVOR OF THE S.S HARVEY INCIDENT

Olivia Breston, eldest daughter of the Breston family and a bright student at Morrington University, was discovered barely breathing and unconscious on floating remains of the unfortunate ship by the fishermen of Devonne port. Lifeboat was sent immediately to revive and take Olivia to the closest hospital. 17h28 of 13th October, we received news …”

‘No way. Olivia… Breston… That’s… that’s my name!? I… I am dead?’

Janet returned back with a joyful meal in hand.

“Man! Jake sure have a knack for cooking! You’re a lucky one, Olivia!” Olivia didn’t respond, still deep in shock “Olivia?”

Olivia handed her the paper. Janet frowned before realization hit her. Surprisingly, she’s quite calm to react.

“So you found out. Any memory came back?”

Olivia shivered, shook her head.

“I survived, did I? So why… am I here? On this day, I was supposed to be found? But no?”

Janet moved next to her, sat down and comforted the confused girl.

“Do you want to know? Truly want to know?”

A silence between made the air thickened before Olivia gave a nod, reluctantly. Janet rubbed her shoulders soothingly.

“What you read is true. You are the only survivor of the S.S Harvey ship, a research ship directed by your father. You accompanied him on a field trip on 19th June when the ship got caught in bad weather, which later escalated into a sea storm. There was no news from the ship until…”

Janet pointed at the date and then at what supposedly to be warehouse, rather than what’s beside it. Needn’t to guess, Olivia could tell what Janet was trying to show her. But it didn’t explain everything that’s happening at the moment.

“I assume you’re wondering what’s happening right now. Care to take a blind guess?” Janet lighted a cig, savored that nicotine taste on the tip of her tongue before let out a wisp of white smoke.

“I died?”

“Eh, close enough. A coma. If you died, you wouldn’t be here to chit chat Livvy”

“Coma? But then, where am I?”

“Well, some might say it’s your subconscious so let just assume that it is. You didn’t die from the incident but drowning left you stranded in your brain, that’s all I could say.” Janet led her to the water. It seeped up close to their feet but it didn’t frighten Olivia no more

“I’m the fish of my own tank” Janet chuckled

“So you do remember”

“Yeah, I just got bits and bits of it. I chose to stay here, because there’s nothing out there for me, no one is waiting for me. At least I achieved my dream here, well, in a way” Olivia stepped back to clean sand, heart ached as she turned to Janet “Because in here I can see the one I held dear”

Janet tossed the burnt butt cig into the cool sand “Old habits die hard. You know, yet you still want to stay?”

“There’s no point going out there. I rather stay here”

“Alright, don’t keep Jake waiting on the dance floor.” Olivia headed back, blushed to the ear “After tonight, it’ll all be a bad dream”

“Wake up anew right?”

“Totally, Goldfish” Olivia’s shadow faded as now only Janet stood alone, water raised above her ankle. The way the ocean surging was unusual than before. There were whispers, cries lingered in the air. Moaned in pain. The thunder struck faraway on the surface warned the upcoming omen.

 “Time’s running out, Olivia”

--- Missielee ---

[werewolvesandvampireslove]

@fandom27stuff Here’s some Hannigram fics. It’s a start for you. I’m still kind of new to the fandom as well.

The ladder Series-  Will is slowly losing his mind in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He makes a deal with the devil to get out.

Adopt a Soldier- When Abigail Graham joins the Adopt a Soldier Program at school she and her father expect some nice letters and maybe some photos. Colonel Lecter, serving overseas, doesn't want to see a little girl disappointed and writes back.What happens changes everybody's lives.

Special-   Franklyn is unhappy about how close Hannibal and Will have become. He decides to confront Will about his friendship with Doctor Lecter. Hannibal is less than pleased.

i'll be the one (who'll break my heart)-  For the kinkmeme prompt: Franklin is jealous of Will. (Or: Will's empathing goes haywire. Hannibal reaps the benefits.)

Playing for keeps-  William senses that the last victim of the Chesapeake Ripper is a courting gift for him and wonders if he isn't getting obsessed with the case, so he decides not to tell anything to the BAU Chief, instead, he decides he must go to to speak with the always trustful Doctor Lecter, the alpha he had become progressively more and more attracted to.

A Fine Piece of Real Estate Series- To say that Will Graham is still an unmated, childless omega at the age of thirty-eight is his own choice is true. It is not to say that it is his preference. Will wants a mate and a family just as much – perhaps even more – than the next omega. He’s simply never met that one person who fit the bill before. And then he walks into Jack Crawford’s office and meets Hannibal Lecter and well that, as they say in the business, is that.Now all he needs to do is convince Hannibal of that. But well, this is Hannibal Lecter he is dealing with. It must be done a certain…flair. But that isn’t a problem for Will. Not at all.After all, snakes may kill mongoose, but one must never forget this as well: mongoose hunt snakes too.It’s Will Graham’s turn to wage his war.Or, here is a fic about omega!Will Graham manipulating alpha!Hannibal Lecter into getting exactly what he wants.

In the Wake- “I can’t do it,” Hannibal said. “What you want me to be, I can’t be that.”A conversation over a body at 4 a.m. It turns out Hannibal can't stop killing, and it turns out Will doesn't really care. There's gallows humor and something that looks a lot like compromise.

Online Catch-  Jack Crawford concocts a plan to lure Hannibal out of hiding... with uploading Will's profile on an international online dating site. Without Will's consent, of course. Happens after season 2. Hannibal/Will, slash

Imbalanced Perfection-  Will Graham was an Omega. However, there was something wrong internally. His instincts as an Omega were nonexistent due to an imbalance of chemicals in the body, meaning he felt no need to submit to Alphas, and disliked being ordered around. While his Heats were ever present and surely something he dealt with each year, he wasn’t considered ‘good enough’ and wasn’t wanted by anyone. Then Hannibal came along.

Dancing with the Beast- In order to catch a mediocre serial killer, Will must pose as Hannibal's date for a series of pretentious social events.Hannibal is dramatic and jealous as ever, and Will is having a great time without the encephalitis. Of course, it's a love story.

Beau Ideal- Still reeling from Garret Jacob Hobbs' death, Will Graham is called in to investigate the murder of a male model. While visiting the modelling agency, Beau Ideal, details of his past connection to the company are revealed, and he finds himself reevaluating his career choices, as well as his feelings towards a certain psychiatrist.A.K.A. Will Graham used to be a model back in college. Hannibal Lecter cannot deal with the pretty.

Alan-At an appointment Will hints at a new infatuation with Dr Alan Bloom. This does not go down very well with Hannibal.AKA Three and a half times Hannibal was very jealous, and one time he was very very smug.

Fluffy Murder Husbands-  Will has taken up a new type of fishing.

The Greatest Sin Is Pride-  Thanks to Freddie Lounds and Tattlecrime.com Abel Gideon believes that the best way to draw out the Chesapeake Ripper is to use Will Graham to tempt him and so after cutting the tongue out of a psychiatrist he abducts Will and proceeds to eviscerate him. Hannibal really hates it when other people damage his things and as far as he is concerned Will belongs to him so he is not going to stand for Gideon daring to touch his empath and do damage to him.

Fromage-  After Hannibal thinks that he has lost Will to Tobias, seeing the younger man alive and just a little scratched makes him realise just how much he wants the other man. Can he seduce Will? Can Will accept what Hannibal is? Slash. Murder husbands.

like you like this-  A serial killer is targeting alphas in positions of power who mistreat their mates. Will and Hannibal decide to pose as a couple in order to lure him in. It doesn't go according to plan.

We Gladly Feast-  It begins with a murder. And ends with a kiss. When Hannibal meets Will's aunt and uncle at a crime scene, he feels the need to extend a dinner invitation to the loving couple. Hannibal has always known Will to be unique, but when dinner reveals startling new truths about the other man, his obsession becomes something more than love. And Hannibal has never been one to pass up on a good thing.

To Love a Dragon- Hannibal has a plan, a brilliant plan to ensure Will is his in every way. Will is very much not aware of this plan.Alternatively, the many times Hannibal tried to woo Will with very dubious dragon courting rituals and the one time Will wooed him back.

[novoki]

Coming out of the closet as a werefox

As soon as Scott meets him in the courtyard of the school, Stiles knows something is off. He smells weird, unusual, not like himself. He smells like danger, and Scott never smells like danger. Scott is about as dangerous as a butterfly riding a unicorn in the middle of an empty field. So, yeah, Stiles knows something is definitely wrong.

 “What’s up with you?” he asks instantly.

 Scott sends him a sheepish look, leaning forward a bit and wincing. “I got bit yesterday.”

 “What?!” Stiles squeaks.

 His friend gives him a weird look, flapping his hands haplessly. “Not seriously! I think it was, like, a rabid dog or something. There wasn’t that much blood, and it’s practically healed already.”

 “Rabid dog?!” Stiles whines. “Scott, it could have rabies! What if you have rabies now, huh?” Oh, fuck, Scott totally had rabies. Just his luck. His best and only friend now has rabies. Awesome.

 Scott rolls his eyes and sighs at the thought. “It’s not rabies, Stiles. I swear, it wasn’t that bad. I’m actually feeling better than I’ve ever been.”

 Stiles opens his mouth to argue further, then his brain registers what’s just been said. Wait – feeling better? Not that bad; practically healed already?

 “Scott, it wasn’t… you said it was a dog, right?” Scott nods, raising a brow. “Not a… not a wolf.”

 The boy blinks, like it’s only just occurred to him. “I mean… it was a big dog,” he concedes. Then he shakes his head. “But, didn’t you tell me what wolves haven’t been in California for forty years or something? Remember, when you had that obsession with wolves one summer.”

 Ah, yeah. Stiles remembered that summer well. It’d been the summer he’d first ever met a werewolf. And it was awesome. He’d obsessed over finding every bit of lore about werewolves both online and offline until his dad banned the word from the house out of annoyance. To this day, he wasn’t allowed to talk about them, otherwise his dad threatened to sneak into a McDonalds on the way back from work. So, yeah, there weren’t supposed to be any wolves in California for generations. Keyword being supposed.

 “Scott, are you one hundred perfectly sure? Because this is very, very important, okay?” he says, swinging his arm around and pulling Scott uncomfortably close. “I need to know, alright, you cannot just guess or assume, alright?”

 “I-I, uh, I don’t know, it was – dark, alright? I couldn’t really see anything,” he stutters, “there was, like, a… stampede of deer. That’s not. Dog-like, right? And it – it was strong, but, dogs can be strong too, y’know?”

 Stiles sighs, barely resisting shaking Scott by his shoulders. People are already giving Stiles weird looks and even his best friend looked wary. “Just… Okay, uh,” he rambles, trying to think of something. If Scott was bitten a werewolf, it would hurt a fuckton at the beginning because, you know, wolf bite. But then the healing factor would kick in – or he’d die, there’s that too – and he’d become practically numb to it. But Scott was probably in shock, so it wouldn’t really matter. His heart would have been beating like crazy, running like hell, he might have even –

 Wait.

 “Did you get asthma?”

 Scott opens his mouth, then stops.

 “When you ran away, you ran fast, right?” Stiles demands. Scott nods. “So did you get asthma?”

 The boy pauses. “I lost my inhaler,” he says.

 “That’s not what I asked. I asked, did you get asthma?”

 Scott stares at Stiles with wide eyes. He can see the trails of panic building in them, frantic and confused and crazed.

 The bell goes and Scott looks up, opens his mouth to say something, but Stiles just drags him around the corner of the building to the underpass. Scott complains the entire time, but Stiles doesn’t listen, walking as fast as he can with a maybe/maybe-not werewolf clinging to his arm. When they get there, Stiles spins around straight away, arms up and sweeping through the air before he can even get a word out.

 “Listen up, Scotty, because I have some good news and some bad news. Which one d’ya want first?”

 His friend sends him a confused look but eventually gives up, heaving a sigh. “Bad news.”

 “You’re a werewolf.”

 “What?!” This time, it’s Scott who squeaks.

 “Good news: I can help with that.”

 “You can help with me being a werewolf?!”

 Stiles nods his head, wincing. He glances around before looking at Scott again. “What I’m about to show you – you can’t tell anyone, alright? Like, I know you, you’ll probably be vibrating like a puppy and more than eager to shout it out to the world, but you need to promise me you won’t. Please.”

 Scott must see how desperate Stiles is because he nods after only a brief moment of hesitation. Stiles sighs, relieved. Then he closes his eyes and opens them.

 The first time he’d ever seen his mom’s true eyes, he gasped. They were bright orange, glistening like lemonade, and so, so pretty. His dad had smiled and told him he’d had the same reaction as him. Then they exchanged a fuzzy look that looking back made Stiles hurt now, but it’s still a memory he holds close to his heart.

 Unlike werewolves, werefoxes have eyes that don’t really benefit them. Not like wolves’. The vibrant, orange spark that glowed around the pupil had the same colour range as real foxes, meaning Stiles had never truly seen his own eyes. Yeah, he had looked into a mirror before, but everything was different. Instead of orange, it was a weird pastel yellow, and instead of seeing each individual speck like with his mom, there were very jagged and obvious layers.

 But, if Scott’s reaction was anything to go about, they were quite shocking.

 He lifted a finger weakly, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

 “I’m a werefox,” Stiles explains. “We’re like werewolves, but cooler. Came first, also, meaning by the time wolves got their superpowers they had more updated shit, but whatever. We can turn into full animals and they can’t, so hah. Well – actually, it depends on what family the werewolf’s from and whether they’ve balanced their two sides yet, and… Look, doesn’t matter. What I’m trying to get at is I think you’ve been bitten by an alpha.”

 “Like the leader of a pack?” Scott says, and to Stiles’ relief, he doesn’t look like he’s about to run away and call the cops.

 “Yeah! Exactly like that. For wolves, only alphas can turn people. I’m thinking some crazy guy must’ve bit you and then got out of dodge, because usually they stick around to at least say hi if they’ve just ruined your life.”

 Scott, however, doesn’t look that bummed out. He doesn’t look like his life’s just been ruined, that he’s just found out some dude bit him and ran away. “That’s… so… cool!”

 Stiles blinks.

 “Or that, yeah.”

 “How do I know I’ve… turned?” Scott asks, grinning widely.

 Stiles huffs but returns the smile. “Well, first off, the healing factor is a pretty big clue. You werewolves have abnormally fast healing, along with strengthened senses, speed, and strength. You can do this too,” he says, pointing at his eyes before letting them fade. “But with claws and fangs and hair. Hilarious lack of eyebrows, though. That’s always pretty amusing.”

 “Super strength?” Scott echoes, eyes distant. “Maybe I can actually play lacrosse this year.”

 Stiles snorts. “I’ve just told you you’re a werewolf and I’m a werefox, and that’s all you care about? Lacrosse tryouts?”

 Scott shrugs, grin not apologetic in the slightest as he bounces in one spot. “It’s just – this is so cool, right? Like, this shit only happens and books and movies, you know. Never in real life.”

 “Well, keep in mind that it’s not all rainbows and sunshine,” Stiles feels the need to mention. Scott frowns and he sighs, shoulders slumping. “With supernatural creatures comes supernatural hunters.”

 “Hunters?” Scott repeats, brows low.

 “Yeah. Basically, one of your ancestors managed to piss off a French woman and then everything went to shit. She and her husband taught their kids how to hunt werewolves, who in turn taught their kids, who in turn taught their kids, and on and on. Not very fun,” he sighs, scrunching his nose.

 Scott looks worried now, and compared to the happy expression he’d been wearing just a second ago it’s really depression.

 “But, hey, no asthma, right?” Stiles says in an attempt to lighten to mood.

 Scott’s eyes widen like he suddenly remembered something, and he pats his pockets for something invisible. “Shit! I need to get my inhaler back!”

 Stiles scrunches his eyebrows. “Why? You don’t need it anymore.”

 Scott sends his friend a disappointed look, glaring whilst he says, “those things cost eighty bucks, dude, my mom will kill me if she finds out I’ve lost it.”

 Stiles laughs. “Fair enough.”

[i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate]

OTP Challenge Day 4: On A Date

OTP: Gruvia

Rating: Still going with E for everyone

“What are you thinking about?” Erza’s voice broke Gray away from his thoughts and brought him to reality. It was late, and the guildhall was mostly empty. Mira was cleaning some of the dishes used that afternoon, and Gray was sitting at one of the tables with a mug of some sort of ale in his hands. Erza had suddenly sat down across from him. He could tell that she was serious about getting an answer, but he wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been there.

               “I…” He paused, gripping the handle of his mug tightly. Erza beamed, leaning over the table like she was ready for some conspiracy theory to pop out of Gray’s mouth.

               “Are you thinking about Juvia?” So she was fishing for a specific answer. Gray glared. Well, now I am. Juvia’s pretty smile came to mind. Not the crazy one that drove Gray up the wall. No. He recalled a specific moment, when he had caught the water mage sitting on the window ledge upstairs in the guild. She had been staring out the window at the city, and humming. He remembered her expression was so at peace, with a small smile, and her eyes had shimmered with something akin to warmth. He had often been visited by that vision in his dreams. Somehow Juvia managed to give him dreams of a better future, and nightmares both.

               Erza crossed her arms, “When are you going to ask her out?”

               “When she stops squealing every time she sees me,” Gray huffed. “I don’t like girls who are needy.”

               “Interesting…” Erza murmured, as if taking notes, “Then why do you think it is you’ve fallen in love with one?” The words stunned the ice mage, practically making him drop his mug.

               “W-what?! In love?! What the hell made you think… that… that I’m in love with her?!”

               “Gray,” Erza said firmly, her eyes as stone cold as iron. “Can you really truthfully say that you’re not?” Gray could only stare at his friend. The silence between them stretched out, as he tried to come up with excuses, tried to find something nasty to say, but nothing came to mind. No, in fact, his heart was pounding in his chest. It seemed to be the only thing he could hear.

               “That’s what I thought,” Erza smiled, reaching out to grasp his shoulder, “I’ll ask again, why don’t you set things straight? No one has eternity.” Gray bowed his head, and gritted his teeth. If he told Juvia how he really felt about her, he expected that her behavior would only grow worse. That she would become even more needy, even more obsessive. But Erza wasn’t wrong. He had realized, not long ago, that he had growing feelings for Juvia Lockser. Just her name set his heart off pounding, made his chest fill with warmth, with some unknown emotion. In love with Juvia Lockser?! “No one has eternity,” Erza whispered, again, “Not even you.”

               Gray stumbled to his feet, pushing his beer aside. His head was pounding. He couldn’t believe he was actually entertaining the idea…

               “Where are you going?” Erza asked. Gray shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged as he turned towards the door.

               “To find Juvia.”

*** ***

The pitter-patter of rain on cobblestone was a familiar sound, and in that moment it almost brought a sort of peace to her. She sat on the steps to the Cathedral, her long blue curls held back in a ponytail. She held her hands out, watching as drops collected in her palms. The water was cool against her skin, the wind was picking up. She smiled up at the sky. She used to hate the rain, and then tolerate it, but now that she had seen blue sky—rain had become something of equal beauty.                  

               “Juvia!” Pounding footsteps, and a voice, out of breath from running. Gray-sama…? He was standing at the bottom of the steps, soaking wet, and shirtless. And when he finally caught his breath he looked up at her furious. “Come down from there.” It was a command, not a request. Gray let out a deep sigh. “I’ve been looking for you for hours.” He took one step up the stairs, only closing the distance between them by a foot. “Why weren’t you at home?”

               “Juvia wanted to sit in the rain,” Juvia smiled, holding out her hands again. Gray seemed to pause at this, he looked flustered, his cheeks tainted pink. Possibly from the rain. “What is Gray-sama doing here?” She asked.

               “I…” Juvia could see hesitation in Gray’s demeanor. His arms were crossed, he was biting his lower lip. “I came to ask if you’d like to…” He seemed to suddenly gain a burst of courage, because his expression changed to determination, he clenched his fists, “Juvia Lockser! Will you have dinner with me sometime? A date!” Juvia was frozen in place, like the words she had just heard had petrified her. She felt like she was drifting through a dream. This can’t be real. There he was, her knight in shining armor, or—more often—no armor, waiting to hear a response that she had practiced over, and over again in front of the mirror, and she couldn’t really find those rehearsed words for the life of her. Her heart was pounding, her hands were shaking. Now was her destined moment, her dream-come-true, and she was ruining because—

               Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

               “G-Gray…” And then she burst into tears.  It was not the reaction either of them was expecting.

                “Juvia!” Gray gaped, “What…? What’s wrong with you?!” He wasn’t angry, she could tell. He was just shocked. She could hear him climb a stair or two in her direction, “Hey, quit crying!”  

               “Juvia cannot! Juvia—” Before she could finish, Gray had grabbed her hand, and practically pulled her down the stairs into his embrace. She sobbed against his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around his back. As she breathed through the last of the tears, she finally managed to spit out an explanation, “Juvia is just… so happy,” she whispered. “W-why…. What changed?”

               “Erza,” Gray sighed, brushing tears away from her cheeks, not that it mattered since both of them were soaking. “Erza said something stupid, about no one having eternity. Or something and…” He looked down at her, pure fury reflecting in his dark eyes. He gripped her shoulders as if she were his lifeline. “Juvia, I can’t lose you! You have to know…” Their eyes were locked for what felt like minutes, or hours. “…how I feel.” Gray’s heavy breathing slowed, and then, like magnetism, they were drawn to one another. Their lips met in a furious meld of passion. Pent up emotions fueled them. Juvia let Gray take control. One hand cradled the back of her neck, pulling her as close as he could, the other pressed against her waist, so tightly that Juvia was sure she’d have bruises to prove it. But she didn’t care. The way he tasted now, like whiskey and petrichor, like melting snow on the tongue, it was enough to draw all her thoughts away from the way he held her and straight to the way he kissed her. It was as if it was their last night on earth, and he was feverish for her touch. She was drowning in the rain, drowning in the cool sweetness of his mouth on hers.

               It ended all too soon, and they stared breathlessly, and silently, inches apart. There was a touch of awe in Gray’s eyes, a perfect replacement for the rage that had been there moments before. She could almost feel the electricity tingling between them. Their lips were just a hair’s breadth apart, and Juvia was ready to close that distance again. She had tasted the forbidden fruit, and she needed more.

               “I…” Gray broke the silence, his hands trembling.

               “W-what…what was that for?” Juvia whispered. It didn’t seem that the ice mage really had an answer, but his eyes met hers and Juvia understood.

               “You’re mine,” he whispered, and then his lips found her skin again, leaving a chaste kiss at the corner of her mouth. Juvia trembled, her whole body ached for him. She wanted to shout it out to the world: Yes! Yes! Juvia belongs to Gray-sama! But the words died in her throat. She knew him. He wouldn’t like that. Gray was typically a man of subtlety. And for now, this was enough. When he released her from his arms he was his serious self again, offering her a firm frown. “Will you? Go out with me?” Juvia smiled, trying to contain the burning excitement within her. She brushed a hand through his soaking hair, and studied him for a moment longer before whispering,

               “Yes.”

[nix-writes]

Thominho Week Day Three- Sharks and Orcas and Mermaids, oh my!

@thominho-week

Minho walked along the beach, eyeing the storm clouds rapidly forming in the distance. Newt had warned him, but Minho hadn't listened. He'd wanted to take a walk because he'd never been on this beach before and there were rumors of mermaids. Mermaids were rare creatures, but they seemed to live much longer than humans. No one knew for sure. "Well, there are a lot of caves around here, I just have to find one." Newt had mentioned that when he first arrived. Of course, Newt couldn't have shown him where any of them were, or be bothered to come with him. Minho checked his phone: It was still at ninety percent. He'd charged it before coming out here, thankfully. So he wasn't a total idiot, and he told Newt so. Over text. Because otherwise, Newt would yell. 'You're still going to have to sit in a cave during a thunderstorm and hope your phone doesn't die.' 'I know, I know. Now give me directions to the nearest cave.' Newt did, and Minho knew that he was being laughed at. 'Maybe you'll meet one of the mermaids you're so obsessed with.' 'Go die in a hole, Newt.' 'And leave you to suffer in the storm? Never.' Minho followed his directions and made it safely to a cave. 'I'm here, Newt, and I'll see you as soon as the storm lets up.' 'You better.' Minho sat just beyond the mouth of the cave to watch the storm until the incoming rain drove him deeper. As he walked, careful not to go too far, he noticed something... glowing, seemingly through the rocks. He followed it, and the cave opened up into a large cavern, with shelves of rock along the walls and deep blue water taking up most of the space. As Minho scanned the room, he noticed someone- half-naked, just laying on the rocks. Their lower body was in the water and they weren't moving. What if they'd been trying to pull themself out and had run out of energy? What if they were dead? Minho made his way across the slippery rock as quickly as he could. When he got close, they looked up at him. "I thought you were dead or injured," Minho explained. The stranger smiled. "Neither of the two. Just resting." "Half in the water?" Minho asked. "I had not even noticed!" They laughed, a clear, carrying sound, echoing in the cavern. "I thank you for your concern." Minho didn't think he'd heard anyone talk like that before. "Did the storm drive you here? Most people don't come this far back." "Yes, it did, but it was actually a glow that led me here. What's your name?" Minho crouched on the rock. "I am Thomas. You are?" "Minho. Minho Park."

Thomas stared at the human before him. He'd seen them before, but after Princess Ariel disappeared, no one took any chances. He was lucky he had his conch earrings; they allowed him to communicate with Minho. "Come, sit. That position cannot be comfortable." The human was crouching. Thomas had never done it, being unable to, but he didn't want to anyway. "Only if you join me up here." "I cannot do that." "Why not? Does something have hold of your legs?" Thank the goddess he couldn't see beneath the water. "Do you have a bunch of scars or something? It won't bother me, Thomas, don't worry." "I fear you do not know what you are saying." "You don't talk like any teenager I know." Thomas wondered if the shells were translating his contractions as such. Likely not. "No, I suppose I would not." He said. "Wait- could it be?" He did think, then. "Are you... live around here?" The conch shells shouldn't be losing their magic so fast. "I live around here." "Do you have a head wound or something? I don't think you caught my whole question." Thomas shook his head. "I am sorry, I am not well-versed in... English." He said slowly, no longer relying on the shells. "Oh. I'm sorry." "It is not your fault." Thomas, without the conch shells, spoke haltingly. He hasn't studied English since his younger years. His mother had insisted he stop. "Maybe I can help you? I mean, since we're stuck here awhile." "That would be nice, thank you," Thomas said. He focused on the conch shells, tuning their magic to the lowest possible level. "Did you have something translating for you earlier?" "Yes. It... changed my words to your understanding." Thomas said. "It's not on now." "So it's not helping you speak or understand me?" Thomas stared at him. He'd heard about three words in that sentence.

With the way Thomas was staring at him, Minho was sure they'd get nowhere with this. He didn't know any English. "Babies pick up new languages just by hearing them." He said aloud. "Maybe we can do the same thing with you. I have some videos on my phone," He held it up. "Or I could just talk to you and see what sticks."

Thomas stared at Minho's lips, trying to figure out what he was saying. Of course, he couldn't. Minho waved his hand in front of his face. "Hey, shank, you wanna kiss me or what?" At least that's what Thomas thought he said. He shook his head and dialed the magic on the shells back up. "It's not working, Minho, I can hardly hear you." "Wait, are you deaf?" "I don't think so. I've always been able to hear fine." Well, except when he took out his earrings to recharge the magic. "Are you sure? Cause you turned your translator off and suddenly you couldn't hear." Minho raised an eyebrow. "Turn it off again and try speaking. I want to see if you know English but don't think you do." That didn't make sense. Of course, he didn't know English. Thomas turned it off anyway and then spoke. He knew what he meant to say, of course, but no idea what he'd actually said.

It was Minho's turn to stare. Thomas had just spoken in what had to the most beautiful language ever- words moving with the easy flow of water and then crashing against each other with the force of waves against stone. He repeated himself, in English this time. So he did know it, then. "What language was that? The first one you spoke in." Thomas shook his head. "I couldn't hear it, Minho. I don't know." "It... it sounded like the ocean." Minho tried to explain. "I suppose it would have. It is an ocean language, after all. So, I am deaf, then? Why did I not notice? Why did no one tell me?" "There are ocean languages?" Minho asked. He figured Thomas was a mermaid, not that it was hard- he wore actual conch shells as earrings and wouldn't get out of the water. "Yes, there are many. You know, then." Thomas said. "You're a mermaid." "Yes, I am." Thomas pulled himself up on the rock, revealing a long shimmering tail. "I come here to be alone. My sisters and brother can be quite annoying." "How many sisters do you have?" Minho was an only child; the closest thing he had to brother was Newt, and Lizzy had been like a younger sister, but then she'd drowned. "I have five sisters. Brenda is the oldest, then Harriet and Miyoko, Teresa is older than me by ten minutes, and Sonya and Chuck- my brother- are the same age." "What are they like?" "Brenda is smart but she is also really sassy and tough. My mom adopted her, she had been living in the... desert of the ocean, I guess you can say. Harriet comes off as really tough and kind of mean, but once you get to know her she is really fun. Miyoko is the sassiest of all of us, but she can really sweet, too. Teresa is super sarcastic and she and Chuck are my only biological siblings. Sonya has not really opened up to us yet. We adopted her officially about a year ago after we saved her from drowning. Chuck is a sweetheart. He is very adorable." "Your family sounds fun. I don't have any siblings, but my friend, Newt, is British." "British?" "He comes from Britain. You live off the shores of Great Britain." "What is he like?" "He's become... I don't know, quieter, I guess, since his sister drowned, but he's always been sarcastic and kinda Mama-bearish." Thomas flicked his tail thoughtfully on the rock, the colors shifting. Purple, teal, a hint of gold, silver streaks on the fins. "Can I..." Minho stared, and Thomas laughed gently. "Yes, you may. Come down here." Thomas offered his hand and guided Minho down to the rock he was on. Minho ran his hand over the scales lightly. They didn't feel quite like any fish he'd felt before. "How are they so soft?" He asked, still stroking them. "I've never caught any fish with scales like these." "Most fish do not actively clean their scales. My maternal line, for generations, has been bred for softer, prettier scales." Then Minho had an idea. "How well does your translator work on sign language? Because I could teach you ASL." He signed as he said it. He'd had two deaf teachers in growing up, and another at college. Thomas responded with a different sign. "I know a sign language, but I don't think it's the same as yours." They tried a few more signs. "They seem to be very similar," Minho said. It was enough to communicate effectively, anyway. Minho's phone buzzed, then it buzzed again, insistently, so he checked it. He had ten missed calls from Newt and fifty texts. "It's my friend, Newt- he's been calling me for a while." He explained to Thomas. Minho called Newt back. "Minho, where are you? The storm let up six bloody hours ago." "I'm- in the cave still. I didn't realize it had stopped." "Well, get home. It'll be too dark to see soon and you're not staying in a cave overnight, Minho, no matter how tough you think you are." "I'll start walking now. See you soon." "I better, you bloody shank." Minho hung up and turned to Thomas. "Can I meet you here tomorrow?" "Only if you bring Newt," Thomas said. "I will. I promise." As Minho left, he swore he heard a soft, "Someday I will show you my court."

Thomas was freaking out. All mers had a signal that told them they had met a potential mate- and Minho had all the signals flashing. "Brenda!" He would have screamed, but he was in the palace, and such behavior was not tolerated in a prince. "Yes, my brother?" "I have something of import to tell you, and also am I deaf?" "So you finally realized. Yes, you are deaf. Come, my room is closer." "Brenda, I believe I've met my mate. A human boy, my age. I'm meeting him again tomorrow, and one of his friends." "Oh, Thomas. You know we can't touch him." Brenda sighed. "But you'll go anyway." "I must. I must see him again. To confirm it. And we rescued Sonya. If I can convince him..." "Take Sonya with you. She's younger than you, but perhaps it will be good for her to see humans." "I will, Brenda." "You'll have to talk to Mama soon." "Come with me, please." "Anything for you." Yes, his sisters would do anything for him. He was not the baby of the family, but rather the one who had almost died more times than they wished to recall. They could hardly deny him anything. "Would you like to go now?" Brenda asked. Thomas nodded. "First, let's get you dressed." Thomas had forgotten that he'd lost his shirt. Brenda handed him a flowing shirt she knew he adored, one of her own. She poked her head out the door. "Tell the Queen that her children ask for an audience." Brenda turned to Thomas. "Come on. She won't deny us." They left a minute after the guard, walking leisurely compared to his pace. "My queen." Thomas bowed while Brenda spoke. "Rise, my children. I hear you need to speak with me?" "Yes, Mother." At her nod, Thomas continued speaking. "I believe I have found my soulmate- a human boy, my age. His name is Minho." "So you wish to bring him here." "Yes. He figured out I'm a mer. I'm meeting him tomorrow, and his friend, Newt." "Convince him, and I will assist you. The friend, though, I can do nothing for." "Mother, Sonya talks of her human brother often. His name is Newt. Thomas is bringing Sonya with him tomorrow." Brenda spoke quickly. "I see. Thomas, be careful. You know you tire so easily." Their mother smiled at her oldest son. "I'll be fine, Mama." Thomas flushed. "Eat a good dinner tonight, and go to bed early. We cannot have you getting ill." Thomas nodded. "If you can convince him to return with you, send Sonya back and I will come myself." "Of course, Mama." "Brenda, teach him the rules of courting. Thomas, make this boy of yours a favor. And wear something nice." "Yes, Mama." They said at the same time, bowing quickly before leaving. "A favor, Brenda?" Thomas asked as they began walking to the royal children's collective sitting room. "Something you make, preferably, to remind him of you. It's rather old-fashioned, but Mama insists. You make the loveliest handkerchiefs. Don't bring him food. The rest of us will work on something for you and Sonya to wear." "He's seen me without a shirt, Brenda." "That doesn't matter. You and Sonya must make an excellent impression on Newt. She at least knows English; she won't need her conch shells turned up very much. You, however, need to keep them on all the time." Brenda threw the doors open dramatically. "Siblings mine! We have a mission! Thomas is going to work on a favor for his soulmate, and the rest of us are working on clothing for him and Sonya to go meet his soulmate tomorrow." Thomas sat down in his favorite seat and set to weaving some silk. It would be dark green, almost black, because Minho had been wearing a green shirt, with designs of blue, teal, and white waves on it, and a cave in the background. He finished it and set it aside, hands trembling. "You need to make something else. Make him a black kerchief, with flames, and a white kerchief, with fruits." Brenda instructed him. If he was kept busy, he wouldn't have time to worry. Thomas took a look around the room first. Brenda, Miyoko, and Teresa were working on a long, flowing silk shirt- it was blue and teal and purple, matching his tail. Harriet was helping Chuck and Sonya with a shirt of the same style, red and black and yellow for Sonya's tail colors. "Princesses, Princes, your mother wishes you to come to dinner. Dressed presentably." Thomas was still in Brenda's shirt, and none of his sisters were dressed for a state dinner. "We will be ready in a few minutes," Brenda said smoothly. They all spent so much time here they had clothes in a small dresser. Thomas changed his shirt, then helped Sonya and Chuck lace their shirts. They weren't quite old enough for unlaced shirts yet. "How do I look, Teresa?" Thomas turned to his twin sister. "You look fine. Now come on. We've got to line up in order of position." Ah yes, their order. It put Teresa at the front, as the heiress to the throne, because the council refused to allow Brenda or Harriet to be named heir. Then Thomas and Chuck. His other sisters went in order of age. "Presenting Their Royal Highnesses, Princess Teresa, Prince Thomas, Prince Chuck, Princess Brenda, Princess Harriet, Princess Miyoko, and Princess Sonya." "Thomas, you simply must have the appleweed stew. It's delicious." Queen Amethyst spoke lowly. Thomas ate as he was instructed, and left the court early, for his mother insisted he rest.

Minho woke up and dragged Newt out of bed. "You have to meet Thomas." "Minho, what I need is to get you in a mental institution. You didn't see a mermaid." "I did. His tail is beautiful and so is he. You'll see him today." They'd had conversation three dozen times since Minho had returned last night. "Fine. I'll go with you. But we're packing a nice lunch, and having a bloody long talk about why eating mushrooms you found in caves is a horrible thing." Newt said firmly. "Now help me pack." Three hours later, the two teenagers were sitting in the cavern where Minho had met Thomas. "He's not coming, Minho, let's go." Newt kept his voice soft. Minho just stared at the water, sure there was something there.

Thomas urged Sonya to the surface. "If we don't hurry, they'll leave, and you'll never know if Minho's Newt is your Newt." They broke the surface a second later. The blond-haired boy jumped back, while Minho offered his hand first to Sonya, and then to Thomas. They arranged themselves on the rock, skimming the water. "Thomas! And who is this?" Minho asked. "This is my youngest sister, Sonya. And this is Newt?" Thomas said. "Yeah, I'm Newt. Her name isn't Sonya, it's Lizzie. And she died years ago. I don't know what kind of bloody trick you're playing, Minho, but I hate it." Newt gestured widely as he spoke. "It's not a trick, Newt." Sonya's voice still had the high, clear timber of childhood. "I did drown. But Thomas, Teresa, and Miyoko saved me and brought me to their mother- to my mother." "You already have a mother, and she's here, on dry land!" "I cannot live on dry land anymore. I am a princess, Newt, a daughter of the sea. Minho, Thomas wants the same for you." "Thomas wants Minho to drown? And you're a princess?" Newt was freaking out, but Sonya was handling it well, so Thomas signed to Minho and together they got onto a different rock. "I have something for you." Thomas held out the handkerchiefs. "Thank you, they're beautiful." "I made them myself." Thomas grinned. "I'm glad you like them." He'd had Sonya help him practice that phrase all the way here. "What Sonya said... do you really want me to drown?" "No! And it is not really drowning. Let me explain the whole thing, please." Thomas told Minho how he thought that Minho was his soulmate, that the signs were all there. Minho nodded along. Humans didn't have the same markers mermaids did, it seemed. "And if you become a mer, we will know for sure if we are soulmates." "And if we aren't?" "Then you will remain a mer. The process cannot be reversed. But I am sure we are." Minho took a moment to think. He had taken a gap year, and worked three jobs, but he didn't have nearly enough for college- he'd be in debt for years. Meanwhile, he could go with Thomas, who was interesting and different, and said they were soul mates. Thomas wouldn't lie; he didn't have that air about him. "I'll come with you. Should I get my stuff from Newt's house?" "We will make you all new things." "If Sonya's trying to convince Newt, she'll fail." "She just wanted to see him." Sonya slid off her rock and swam to them. "Newt's not going to like that you've agreed, Minho." "Newt doesn't like 95% of my decisions, he's learned to live with it." Thomas grinned and flipped off the rock, spinning in midair, making his shirt fly out around him. Newt turned and watched, giving Sonya time to dive under and swim for home. She was getting their mother. "Wait, where'd Lizzie go?" Newt asked after Thomas had landed and climbed back up on the rock. "She is going to see our mother. If you stay, you can meet her." "Where would I go?" "Home, Newt. You might want to. I'm staying. I'm going with Thomas. Thomas, do you want something to eat?" Minho dug through the picnic basket and came up with a sandwich. "Thank you, Minho." Thomas smiled at him. "Minho- you're staying? You're bloody staying?" Newt asked. "I'm not just staying, Newt. I'm going with Thomas." "Sonya told me I could go with her, but I said no. Minho, you've got a life here. Don't leave it behind." "Newt, I can't go to college, my parents are dead, I have no siblings, and you're my only close friend. You can visit anytime you want. Thomas is surrounded by his siblings, by friends. He can go to school, and I'd like that too." "Minho, you can't actually be considering this." "I've already decided." Minho's voice was firm. "You can stay and see me off, or you can leave."

Minho had known that Newt wouldn't want him to go. This the only the second time he'd met Thomas, and Thomas had hidden that he was a mermaid at first. But that had to be a rule. As soon as he'd figured it out, Thomas had told him. "Newt, Minho will be treated well among my people. Our sister, Sonya, is doing very well. She is healthy and happy." Minho noted Thomas's choice of words. 'Our sister'. Not my, not your. "That doesn't mean I have to like it. Minho, don't do this. Don't leave me here alone." Newt begged. "You're not alone. You have Alby and Fry, and Zart. I'm normally across the ocean anyway. I'll be closer to you here." "I'll stay and see you off. But I really don't think this is a good idea." Newt said, voice tight with emotion. “You don't like most of my ideas, Newt, this nothing different.” Minho smiled. Sonya swam up. “Mama's coming, Thomas.” Thomas straightened. “It's good to see you, Thomas. And you must be Minho.” Thomas's mother greeted them. “Yes, ma’am,” Minho said. “And you want to change to see if you're my son's soulmate?” Her eyes were hard. “I certainly hope that I am, ma'am.” “Good answer. Well, then, step into the water, Minho.” Minho obeyed, and Thomas gripped his forearms tightly to keep him from sinking too far in. “Thomas, you know more of magic than Sonya and I will need your assistance. Take his place, Sonya.” Thomas leaned up and kissed Minho’s forehead. Sonya swam up and took his place. “Thomas, go gather seaweed.” Thomas dove into the water. “Minho, do you know who I am? I am Queen Amethyst.” “It's nice to meet you, Your Majesty.” Minho said. The queen laughed. “You, Minho, will do my boy well.” Thomas resurfaced. “Speak the blessing, Thomas.” Thomas began speaking in that beautiful language again. Minho wondered how he was able to hear it this time. “Now, wrap his legs tightly with seaweed, starting from the hips.” Thomas flushed and began to his work. Soon he was weaving the extra seaweed into a tail fin at the bottom. “More seaweed, Mama?” “Yes, enough to wrap his neck three times.” Thomas nodded and dove again. He came up with less seaweed. “Change the words for the blessing, say gills instead of tail,” Thomas repeated the blessing and wrapped Minho's neck. “Sonya, come here.” The queen ordered. “Thomas, you'll perform the blessing. Minho, don't worry about drowning- the change will be finished before you die. Thomas, be ready to assist Minho to the surface.” Sonya let go of Minho and Thomas took her place, speaking quickly. Minho’s head was underwater by the time he finished.

Thomas watched the water where Minho and his mother disappeared. After a few more minute, the water rippled and his mother came up. “Thomas, go help Minho. He hasn't quite got the hang of it yet.” Thomas nodded and dove in eagerly. He pulled Minho to the surface and helped him onto a rock. Newt and Sonya gasped when they saw his tail: Dark purple at the hips, red in the middle, and burnt orange at the fins. A beautiful gradient. “Don't stay out of the water long, Minho.” His mother warned. “Thomas, Sonya, see him home safely.” “Of course, Mama.” They bowed to her, and she left. Minho and Sonya said their goodbyes to Newt, and he even hugged Thomas. Then they swam for home.

Three Months Later Minho hadn't seen half of the palace, according to Thomas. He'd been to the throne room, his quarters, the siblings’ sitting room, Thomas's quarters (he wasn't allowed in), the dining room, and on one memorable occasion, Brenda's quarters. Brenda, Harriet, Miyoko, and Teresa were scary enough on their own; together they could take over the world in five minutes. They were still waiting for their tails to change color: They'd take on a swirl of their soul mate’s tail color on their fin. As he swam, Minho thought on what Thomas had said: “Minho, I'm the second-born. My mother will have to arrange a betrothal for me. Our tails need to change soon.” He didn't want Thomas married to someone else. “Minho! There you are!” Sonya called. “We're all meeting in the sitting room, you should join us.” “Anything for you, Princess Sonya.” Minho grinned. She swam up and leaned close to his face. “Thomas's tail changed color.” Sonya swam ahead of him. “I'll see you soon!” Minho swam as fast as he could without being suspicious. When he entered the sitting room, Thomas sat alone, weaving a cloak of seaweed. Minho sat down and checked his own fin; He couldn't see Thomas's. There was a swirl of blue and teal and purple and gold and silver. He looked up at Thomas. “I see you finally noticed.” Minho’s heart dropped. He seemed so… uninterested. Did he want to marry someone else? Minho had thought they'd only grown closer over these past months. Maybe Thomas didn't think so. Thomas was still talking. “- Don't expect me to be doing all the work for this wedding.” Thomas flicked his tail at Minho and he caught a flash of a gradient swirl on the fin. Thomas barely had time to set his work down before Minho picked him up gently and spun him around. “How soon? How long will it be until we're married?” Minho asked. “At least a year, Minho. My mother has to announce that I have a soul mate and that I am betrothed, we have to plan the wedding, make the outfits- it will all take time.” “Well, it will be the longest year of my life,” Minho said grandly. “But I shall spend it, and every other year, with you.” Thomas laughed as his sisters and Chuck entered the room, all with grins on their faces. “Come on, Minho. Teresa will help you pick a ring. You're lucky their fingers are the same size.” Minho stared at them. “Do you plan to marry Thomas without asking him first?” “I've already agreed, Brenda, don't hassle him,” Thomas said. “You still deserve all the pretty things. I'm sure Minho agrees.” Minho nodded quickly. “Good. Then go with Teresa.” Minho followed Teresa quickly- Thomas's sisters were very protective and he didn't want to get on their bad side when he was a year away from becoming their brother-in-law.

Thomas thought he was ready. He had his dress on- that was what Minho called it, anyway- and his waist, arms, and tail still had to be wrapped in the colorful belts of silk. The strips for his waist were as wide as Minho's palm when wrapped correctly, centering on his belly button and coming up to his mid-chest and down below his hips. He wore white trimmed with gold, as was royal custom, but he had personalized as this was not just a royal wedding, it was a soulmate wedding. “Thomas, are you ready for us to come in?” Teresa asked through the door. He spun the silver band on around his finger, running his hand along the jewels. “Yes, come in.” His four older sisters swam into the room. “You don't have your silks on yet.” Brenda glared at him. “Well, I guess we'll have to change that.” Brenda grabbed the largest bands of silk- for his waist. “Miyoko, come help me with this.” The silk was in two strips, and Brenda and Miyoko each took one. They wrapped them so they crossed in the back and pulled tight, forcing Thomas to suck his stomach in. Miyoko and Brenda wrapped it around until the strips spanned their full width, then crossed over in the back again and pulled tighter. Thomas cursed his decision to have it wrap around his waist three times; at this point, Brenda and Miyoko would get it to five. They started from the outside this time. When they reached his belly button, they crossed on the back again and pulled even tighter. “How many times are we supposed to wrap this?” Miyoko asked. “Three,” Thomas said. “It's going to be more than three, we pulled it so tight,” Brenda said. “You can still breathe, right?” Thomas took a deep breath, and Brenda and Miyoko had left enough slack that it settled to a comfortable tightness. They wrapped it the third and final time and wove the ends together before letting them hang free. “Are you ready for the arms, Thomas?” Teresa asked. “Yes.” Harriet and Teresa took Brenda and Miyoko’s spots and began buttoning the silk onto his sleeves. They would appear to be wrapped loosely around his arms, trailing over his hands and covering them. “How does this go on?” Brenda asked, holding the thrice-split silk for his tail up. Thomas laughed and took it. “Like this.” The topmost part- the connector- settled below his hips, leaving a white strip between his belt and his ‘train’. Thomas buttoned the strips manually: Left side, right side, and the third in a circle. He waved his hand, and the strips started flying around his tail, weaving a loose pattern. When they finished, Thomas buttoned them again: Right, left, a circle. They ended up behind him, longer than the white silk. “You look amazing, Thomas. If Minho wasn't enamored with you already, he would be now.” Teresa said. “Now come on. Mama's waiting.”

Minho took a deep breath. He watched as Gally swam down the aisle with Brenda, with Ben and Harriet right behind them. Teresa swam alone, and Chuck and Sonya were behind her, with the rings. Thomas and his mother waited a moment, then a moment more, before entering the grand hall. Thomas's dress (he'd never heard of them until Minho had told him what a dress was) was no longer the plain white silk he had seen a week ago. Now it had colorful silks- Minho inhaled sharply when he realized they were their colors, mixed together- wrapped around the arms, waist, and tail, trailing behind. The gold designs seemed to glow next to them. The queen, whose beauty had been praised since she was a child, looked less beautiful than her son. Of course, Minho might be biased. They reached the dais, and she began to speak. “I give my son to you, Minho, and pledge that he has come of his own free will.” She placed Thomas's hand in his, and Thomas closed his fingers. Minho didn't know what it meant, but those assembled cheered. They turned to the officiant, hands clasped together. “Thomas, do you come of your own free will?” She asked. “Yes.” “Minho, do you come of your own free will?” “Yes.” “Then, unless any have an objection, a union shall proceed today.” No one spoke. “Hold out your hands.” Thomas and Minho linked their outstretched hands. “The standard vows. Do you, Minho, promise to be faithful?” “I do.” “Do you, Thomas, promise to be faithful?” “I do.” “Do you promise to be loyal and loving, this life and beyond?” “I do.” They answered at the same time. “Do you, Minho, promise to be understanding?” “I do.” “Do you, Thomas, promise to be understanding?” “I do.” “Do you have any prepared vows?” “Yes.” They said as one. “Who would like to begin?” “I will,” Minho said. He knew this had to be good. An entire kingdom was watching, waiting to see if he was worthy of their darling prince. “I offer to you that which is mine, for as long as we both wish it. Command me as you wish, for though I am free I shall serve you in the ways you require, and the angular jellyfish-” Thomas's favorite food, very rare- “will taste sweeter coming from my hand. I pledge myself to you, Thomas. I pledge myself to us.” “Thomas, do you have any prepared vows?” “Yes. That was beautiful, Minho.” He said that last part lowly, so only they could hear. “Your eyes will be the ones I smile into the morning, your name the one I cry at night. I shall serve you, as a partner serves another, all you desire. I am, for you, myself and nothing other. My life will be tied to yours.” “Do you have any joint vows prepared?” “We do.” Their joint vows were the only part of this they had written together. They spoke together, as it required. “I pledge to you the first bite from my plate, the first drink from my cup. I pledge to you my life and my death, all in your keeping. No strangers shall know our faults, our disagreements. This is my wedding vow to you. This is a marriage of equals.” They stared at each other for a moment, Thomas's eyes filled with tears. Minho had to fight the urge to pull him close. “The rings, please.” Chuck and Sonya stepped forward, each carrying a silver pillow with a gold ring on it. “Minho, do you take Thomas to be your husband?” “I do, as sure as the moon controls the tides.” Minho slid the gold ring on Thomas’s finger, the jewels- amethyst, emerald, chocolate diamonds- glinting in the light. “Thomas, do you take Minho to be your husband?” “I do, as sure as the sun rises in the east.” Thomas smiled at him, placing his ring on his finger. Topaz, emerald, opals. “Then, before all here today, I declare you married, husband and husband. From this day forward, you shall be each other's and your lives shall be intertwined, but you shall also be your own. Your arguments will end in compromise, your fights in forgiveness. May you live not separately but as friends, as lovers as well as confidants. Your lives of before are honored here today; your life of tomorrow is celebrated.” A dramatic pause. “You may kiss.” They did, and when they parted they didn't go far. Forehead to forehead, grinning. As they turned to face the crowd, Minho finally felt ready to begin his life under the sea.

[recentanimenews]

Memoirs Most Charming, Part 1

I’ve read a handful of charming memoirs lately, and more are on the way!

I’m a Lucky Guy by Frank B. Gilbreth, Jr. This was a reader suggestion from Anne!

Here, Frank B. Gilbreth, Jr. (writing without sister Ernestine, his sometime collaborator) recounts various happenings and misadventures from his early adulthood, beginning in 1929 when he’s headed off to college and ending somewhere around 1946, when he has returned from serving in the Navy and resumed his career as a newspaperman. These include things like going out for football whilst scrawny, being mistaken for a gun-toting gangster whilst attempting to hide booze (prohibition was still on) from the cops, pranking an odious professor (and, later, an odious superior officer), and repeatedly failing to live up to the standards of a demanding admiral to whom he has been assigned as aide.

On the whole, I found all of these stories entertaining, though the sole moment that made me laugh out loud was when Frank’s soon-to-be wife and mother-in-law completely excused the lascivious behavior of his friend, which a moment before had scandalized them, upon learning he was Methodist (their preferred denomination).

“You don’t think he’s a Ten Commandment breaker?” I asked. “Why, I’d trust him any place,” Liz said indignantly. “So would I,” said her mother. “I’ve always said that people shouldn’t be judged by circumstantial evidence.” “You’re so right,” I assured her. “Probably,” she continued, fishing around for a likely excuse, “probably—well, probably the doctor sent that girl over to your apartment to change the boy’s bandage, again, before he went to bed.” I was tempted to break into a high-pitched giggle, but I looked at Liz and caught a warning. “That’s probably just the way it happened,” I nodded gravely.

Unfortunately, it does seem Frank shares a little of the antipathy toward overweight people that his sister possesses. I don’t mind when he accurately describes a person’s physical characteristics—if a bosom is ample and an abdomen abundant, there’s really no getting around that—but when he makes comments about fellow student Sallye—whom he later proclaims to be “a real friend”—like no “male student in his right mind” would give her their fraternity pen, it’s just unnecessarily mean. True, Sallye has a tendency to be loud and overbearing, and I’m fairly sure that’s part of what he meant, but not the whole of it.

That criticism aside, I did enjoy this book and I’m glad I read it. Thanks, Anne!

Always Look on the Bright Side of Life: A Sortabiography by Eric Idle Initially, although it was an enjoyable read, I wouldn’t have classified this “sortabiography” from the Monty Python co-founder as charming. Idle recounts his childhood, school days, introduction to the world of comedy, the formation of Monty Python, the run of the original series, and the Python movies without a tremendous amount of detail. He does elaborate more about his independent endeavors, and I especially appreciated learning more about the creation of The Rutles. Using the song “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life” as a sort of framework, Idle chronicles the various circumstances after The Life of Brian where he was called upon to sing it, ranging from Graham Chapman’s funeral to the Royal Variety Performance to the closing ceremony of the 2012 Summer Olympics.

As is common for a book of this type, there is a lot of name-dropping, but in this case a lot of the names were people I genuinely like, like Harry Nilsson, George Harrison, David Bowie, Stephen Fry, Peter Cook, Robin Williams, and Eddie Izzard. And, too, Idle toots his own horn rather frequently, which is admittedly justified when you’ve accomplished as much as he has, and makes sure readers know there were times in his life when he was having loads of sex.

Where he really shines, though, is penning touching tributes to friends who are no longer with us. My husband and I listened to Idle read the unabridged audiobook version together, and by the end of the chapter entitled “George,” we were both in tears. The chapter about Robin Williams is no less lovely. I cannot stress enough how wonderful these two chapters are; they alone are worth the price of admission. It does make one wonder why he doesn’t delve so deeply into the character of his comedy partners, and only makes a few mentions of Terry Jones’ dementia, but perhaps it is because they were all still living in 2018, when the book was published. I shall have to find out whether Idle penned any tributes to Jones on the sad occasion of his passing last year.

Life Among the Savages and Raising Demons by Shirley Jackson I’d heard such good things about these books, but my reaction to Life Among the Savages wasn’t what I expected. True, some of the “lightly fictionalized” anecdotes Jackson relates are somewhat amusing, like the family’s struggle to find a house to rent in Vermont, or insisting to the hospital intake person that her occupation is “writer” as opposed to “housewife,” or her son’s fascination with all the gory details after he gets hit by a car. But the vast majority of the stories involve her children behaving badly, and I had very little patience with these at all.

I imagine that other mothers sympathize with these episodes. Perhaps they see their own experience reflected, and so they laugh but also feel all warm inside, in a loving, maternal way. Not so me, I’m afraid. No, whenever the son showed arrogant condescension toward his mother, or her daughter became intolerably fixated on proper decorum, or one kid or the other was insolent and disrespectful, it just made me angry. In fact, I might have said “Shut the fuck up!” aloud a time or two. This is why it is probably a very good thing that I am not a parent.

Thankfully, Raising Demons contains less of that sort of thing (though significantly more than none). I really loved the section in which Jackson waxes nostalgic about her adolescent obsession with making clothespin dolls and her snarky description of life as a faculty wife (who is expected to have “hemming dishtowels” among her hobbies). The story of how she got a new refrigerator was a highlight, as well.

You’ll Never Believe What Happened to Lacey: Crazy Stories About Racism by Amber Ruffin & Lacey Lamar Having seen and adored whimsical clips from The Amber Ruffin Show, I was very excited to see that Amber Ruffin and her older sister Lacey Lamar had written a book together. Although the topic is racist incidents the sisters have endured (mostly Lacey, who lives and works in Omaha), the approach at least attempts to be light-hearted. These aren’t stories where someone gets hurt or dies; instead, they elucidate the kind of crap Black people are just expected to swallow or forget.

I did laugh a few times, particularly at Ruffin’s effervescent line delivery—I listened to the unabridged audiobook read by the authors—but after a while, the unrelenting wave of absolutely flagrant ignorance and hate becomes overwhelming. The commentary on the stories is funny, but the situations themselves are stressful and horrible and eye-opening in the most abject, despair-inducing kind of way. I have never been one to deny that racism exists, but I admit to being surprised and horrified by a lot of these stories, espcially the awful things done to kids. A beautiful drawing torn to shreds, a group of teens accused of stealing car keys when none of them is old enough to drive, kids threatened at gunpoint by a crazy neighbor but nobody calls the cops because who will the cops believe… I also feel terribly naive for being surprised.

I’m glad I read this.

Our Hearts Were Young and Gay and Nuts in May by Cornelia Otis Skinner Note: The former was co-written with Emily Kimbrough.

Our Hearts Were Young and Gay recounts the three months in the early 1920s that two young American women spend abroad in Europe, written when they are older (“Emily and I have now reached the time in life when not only do we lie about our ages, we forget what we’ve said they are.”) and nostalgic for more innocent days. It’s written in Cornelia’s voice, though Emily provides many of the details, and tells of the time their ship ran aground, the time Cornelia caught the measles and evaded quarantine, the time they met H. G. Wells and Emily made an embarrassing first impression, the time they mistook a brothel for a boarding house, the time bedbugs gave Cornelia a swollen lip “shining like a polished tomato,” the time their dogs piddled in a swanky Parisian restaurant, etc. For the most part, it’s quite amusing, but there are a few comments that expose the girls’ ignorant attitudes regarding people of other races and sexual preferences.

Rather than focusing on one particular adventure, Nuts in May is a collection of humorous yet unrelated anecdotes Skinner wrote for publications like The New Yorker. Topics include but are not limited to: actors being asked to lend their talents in aid of charitable organizations, a Protestant family’s audience with the Pope, people who laugh at anything, dizzying real estate transactions, and being interviewed by Dr. Kinsey. Occasionally, the tone turns more domestic and reminds me some of Shirley Jackson, such as in “Bag of Bones,” when Skinner’s son insists that the bones they find on a Colorado trail belong to a dinosaur, or “Those Friends of His,” about her son’s reticence on the origins of his friends who come to visit. The latter also makes reference to a car “teeming with hamsters,” which is a phrase and a visual that I adore. Indeed, there were quite a few giggles to be had, and I reckon I might seek out more of Skinner’s work in the future.

By: Michelle Smith

[rinaldoescobar]

I really liked your jenos&buck writing! It seemed very in character and kinda sweet without losing the god/disciple feeling. if you're accepting prompts, maybe something about buck hearing about the siege on ascension peak? is he there too or is he off gallivanting somewhere else?

hghdhg THANK YOU THANK YOU hopefully this meets ur expectations

Buck’s been spending a majorityof the time after first meeting Jenos asleep. Tau-Kor has a bunkhouse where theresident monks sleep; Buck’s become a resident monk, spending his waking hourshelping to clean and maintain the monastery grounds. It’s not hard work as muchas it is tedious, and everybody helps. The pilgrims donate coin or time, bringfood or clothes for the monks. He’s been spending time up in the bell towerwatching them. After about a month he settles into an easy routine of wakingwhen the sun rises, eating with the other monks, tidying the common areas,directing pilgrims, then falling back to sleep. The routine comes easily to aformer soldier, but it’s different now, he tells himself. He’s talked withJenos in his sleep. Maybe he’s just obsessed. For that reason he tells nobodyof it and focuses on his duties in the monastery, sometimes joining the lonegate guard.

One night, he’s woken by coldblue light suffusing the bunkhouse. The rest of the monks are waking too,bleary-eyed and drowsy, but they all stiffen up in turn once the source of thelight comes into focus. Jenos hovers in the middle of the room, expression grimand tense. The monks who sleep with weapons near them immediately go for them;Buck sees the gate guard grab his monk’s spade, which is curious since the gateguard is blind. Jenos holds his hands up. They all hesitate, attention focusedtotally on him.

“Leave here. Go down the northside of the mountain and don’t come back until you see the signs in the sky.”

“What’s happening?” One of themonks, already fastening tekko onto her fists.

“Some very foolish people aremarching on the monastery.” Either he didn’t notice or didn’t care that themajority of his followers hadn’t put their weapons down.

“We can’t leave!” Someone else,less angry and more anguished. “This is our home!”

Buck wanted to chip in, butcouldn’t make himself. For Jenos to have come it must be very serious indeed.Did his eyes linger on him for perhaps a second longer than anybody else? Themonks broke out of the silence into chatter, some panicking and some angry.Buck knew that some of them were sworn to pacifism, but even then a vastmajority of them were looking murderous.

“Let us help,” he said finally,hoping that it sounded more reasoning and less pleading.

“Your assistance is appreciated,”Jenos said, and they all fell into attentive, worried silence. “But it isunneeded.”

“Our job is to protect themonastery,” someone said, bullishly determined. Jenos frowned.

“Leave. Now.” That held thecurrents of an order. There was no more arguing, mainly because Jenos blinkedout of existence. The monks dressed, still chattering amongst themselves, andsomehow Buck found himself close to both the woman with the tekko and the gateguard.

“Are you staying?” Buck finallysaid. It felt like a rebellion, which wasn’t what he wanted it to feel like.

“I am,” the woman said. Shefinished dressing and tied her sash, the inside holding a holster for her tekkoand a few tiny pouches. The gate guard turned and let her tie his sash.

“I am,” he said too. “It’s myduty.”

“He told us to leave,” Buck said,though it was less of an argument and more of a comment.

They decided to stay. The rest ofthe monks left, taking what little they owned down the north side of themountain as an army approached from the south.  The other two settled back down in thebunkhouse; Buck went to the cliff where he’d sat for so long, where he’d firstseen Jenos descend.

He came from behind this time.Buck saw the light catch on his shoulders.

“I should have known.”  Jenos settled next to him, one leg tuckedunder the other, the other hanging free. Buck wanted to look at his face, butdidn’t. He kept looking to the dark world below. “Don’t be foolish.”

Buck shifted on his knees, handssqueezing his thighs. “I can’t abandon this place.”

Jenos sighed. “I know.”

He probably did. He probably knewthat Buck planned to stay the second he’d told them to leave. Buck looked athim, staring out to the camp a mile away. There were a few tents but themajority of the soldiers merely slept on mats on the ground. Clearly, there hadn’tbeen much time to prepare for this attack.

“You will stay here,” Jenoscontinued. “And let me deal with them. They won’t reach the monastery.”

Buck nodded. Jenos idly playedwith a tiny bundle of stars in his palm, rearranging itself intoconstellations. Buck saw a scorpion, a rabbit, a fish. A lion. Buck didn’t knowJenos well enough to decipher his moods but guessed that the god was just asworried as his followers.  “Okay.”

“I expect we will receive reinforcementsfrom the Stagalla.”

Right. There had been explosivedisplays in the sky, sure signs that Jenos had returned; there would be morepeople traveling to the monastery. The monks in the valley would keep thoseunprepared for battle from climbing to a certain doom.

“I used to fight for them. They’llstop at nothing to get what they want.” Was it a warning? Buck didn’t know. Hefelt useless. If he’d gone with the main body of the monks he would have atleast been able to defend them if the invading force tried to surround themountain, or meet the Resistance fighters and guide them up. Here, he was stuckin the halls and common areas, or on the cliff watching the camp of hissleeping enemies. Former allies. He’d escaped war only to plunge straight intoanother one.

As if sensing his unease, Jenosglanced down at him.

“They cannot stand against theforce of the cosmos. I will see them all dead the second they try.”

It wasn’t gentle enough for areassurance or bold enough for a boast. Jenos said it as if it were the simpletruth. Buck nodded, then looked back down to the dark camp.

[junker-town]

How sports is Seven Worlds, One Planet: Episode 6?

Kei Nomiyama / Barcroft Media via Getty Images

David Attenborough’s new show is epic ... and sports.

We continue our extremely important mission to conduct a scene-by-scene review of the BBC’s new nature documentary, Seven Worlds, One Planet, in order to see how sports it is. We determined that Episode 1, which focused on Antarctica, was reasonably sports. Asia was very sports, as was South America. Australia was more drinking than sports, and Europe was extremely sports. Now it’s time for ...

Episode 6 North America

Scene 1: The Hare Hunt

Unless you’re either exceptionally lucky or exceptionally cynical in your choice of teams, following sports can be a thoroughly miserable experience. Every year, most teams fail, and they fail in heartbreaking ways. A sports obsession is a form of emotional gambling, and the house tends to win. Why do we do this to ourselves? I think it’s because we have to. Humans are fascinated by games, and, once captivated, it’s difficult to escape.

Sports might be a bad bet, but for many people they’re nourishing in a way that — the efforts of political punditry aside — cannot be found anywhere else. Also, while there’s not much joy in watching your team fail, it’s a lot of fun to watch everyone else’s also fail. Sports are schadenfreude.

Anyway in this scene a lynx repeatedly fails to catch a hare.

I spy with my little eye...a snowshoe hare #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/Y2nCQi8tDe

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

I think, if we were somehow turned into wild animals, most of us would choose to be apex predators. Being a prey creature, constantly at risk and having to stay on high alert all the time ... well, that sounds really too stressful. But most hunts end in failure, and barring freakish luck, predators seem hungry all the time, which can’t be any less stressful.

I think the lesson here is not to be a wild animal.

This particular lynx is stalking snowshoe hares in the depth of the Yukon winter. It looks cold, hungry, and miserable, and has to walk hundreds of miles in search for food, and when it finds one the hare just hides in a bush. A second hare also runs away and hides in a bush. Being a hare and getting chased by a lynx can’t be fun, but being a very peevish and hungry lynx would hardly be a good time either.

Aesthetics 10/10

Cats must be nature’s most stylish terrestrial predator. Even the smaller ones, like lynx, move with an instantly-recognisable grace. They’re beautiful creatures, made even lovelier by the pristine snow of the Canadian north.

Good lynx.

Difficulty 8/10

It’s obviously quite hard to catch a snowshoe hare.

Competitiveness 8/10

Frankly the hares seem to have the lynx overmatched, although the continued existence of any lynx at all implies that the contest is closer than it looks from these scenes.

Overall 26/30

I hope we’ve established that failure is, perhaps, the essence of sport.

Scene 2: Chubby Fish Boys

In Tennessee, a fish is building a fortress. And honestly, it’s pretty impressive:

BBC Earth

This contraption is the responsibility of a male river chub. In early spring, these foot-long fish embark on a quest to breed. The males seek out a quiet section of river in which to build a nest. These structures can get rather elaborate — they’re significantly larger than the fish themselves and can contain up to 7,000 pebbles, all placed by mouth. The males, for some reason, also decide to get much uglier:

What you would see looking out from a microwave. #SevenWorldsOnePlanet #isitready pic.twitter.com/V64RyDcyUo

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

Sorry boys, but bloated-foreheads-with-weird-growths is very much not my aesthetic. But my opinion doesn’t much matter to a river chub. What matters is the nest. These rocky piles provide shelter from both current and predators, should a female chub choose to lay her eggs there, and so building the best nest becomes fiercely competitive. Pebble theft is common.

Eventually the lady chubs make their choices, the eggs are laid and fertilised, and a new generation of fish is reared as the Mississippi slowly washes away those hard-build nests.

Aesthetics 1/10

These are some ugly fish and I really don’t like them.

Difficulty 4/10

Granted, it would be more difficult and time consuming without arms, but I imagine I could make a pile of several thousand rocks without too much trouble.

Competitiveness 8/10

Fighting over building materials and doing your best to build a very good nest? It’s a cut-throat chub world.

Overall 13/30

This is architecture. Architecture, while cool, is not sports.

Scene 3: Tidal Bears

Thanks to various quirks of geography, sections of the eastern coast of North America are subject to some of the planet’s highest tides. Tide present opportunities for land animals to harvest the rich bounty of the seas, and there’s no more opportunistic land animal than the bear.

Tidal zones might be rich in food but they’re also disgusting, rank places, with the stench of half-rotten seaweed everywhere. You can almost smell it coming through the screens. But we’ve dealt with the turd penguins, so we’ll forgive this bear family their rancid crab snacks. This is, or so we’re told, the cubs’ first visit to the seaside. They seem to be enjoying it:

A fierce hunter retreats with his starfish catch#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/QjLDxWpig7

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

Sibling rivalry...a tale as old as time#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/0zgCE3yKzp

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

However! Much like last week in Europe, the baby bears encounter a male whole isn’t their father, and are forced to flee up a tree to avoid his wrath. Fortunately, just like during the Finnish forest scene, nothing too bad happens. The grumpy male bear leaves a scent mark on the tree — how anyone might smell with so much seaweed around is beyond me, but bears have noses many thousands of times more powerful than ours, poor things — and the family skedaddles back to safety.

Aesthetics 5/10

These are some adorable, bears but while I love the seaside I have a visceral reaction to seeing much exposed seaweed. Gross.

Difficulty 8/10

The various climbs the little bears undertake seem sort of difficult, as evidenced by:

He’s beauty and he’s grace, he’s fallen on his face #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/UYONQtceiT

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

Did I add this just because it’s cute? Yes, obviously.

Competitiveness 0/10

Despite things threatening to happen, nothing actually happens.

Overall 13/30

A stroll down the beach to munch on some crabs is not sports unless someone actually tries to fight the big bear at the end.

Scene 4: Fireflies

If you’re lucky enough to live in a part of the world inhabited by fireflies, make sure you take advantage of those lazy summer evenings when the temperature is just right to draw them out. The little beetles twinkle in the air like borrowed stars, adding magic wherever they go.

BBC Earth

Since this is nature, of course, the flashing of their lights is basically morse code for “S E X M E P L S”, the sort of neon signs one might imagine populating a red-light district, but the lurid nature of the show hardly takes away from the beauty.

And since, again, this is nature, sometimes the lights are a trap. There are some species of fireflies which have evolved the ability to mimic others species mating signals, using their lights to attract an innocent bug looking for a mate and eating it.

This sequence doesn’t show that degree of aggressive mimicry, but we get an accidental one instead, with fireflies finding themselves glowing postmortem in a spider’s web, which summons more fireflies which etc. It’s a very pretty dinner.

Aesthetics 10/10

Yeah this is an easy call.

Difficulty 7/10

This isn’t talked about at all during the scene, but I really wonder how on Earth individual fireflies manage to cut through the noise of tens of thousands of other fireflies to hone in on potential mates. Is their vision short-ranged enough that most of the lights gets diffused into the background? If you tried to get me to pick a specific firefly out of that video I would not do a very good job.

Competitiveness 7/10

Following on from the last part, I’m slightly baffled as to how fireflies differentiate themselves from their firefly competitors. Many mating rituals have an obvious ‘fitness’ component to them, but I can’t tell here. Is it because the world of coleoptera sex is just too alien for me to comprehend? I hope so. (The spider part gives this zero bonus points because that shit is really just too easy.)

Overall 24/30

If humans could glow, synchronised people-glowing would be an Olympic sport.

Scene 5: The Tale of the Naughty Prairie Dog That Only Listened To Its Mother Sometimes

Once upon a time, there were six little prairie dogs living in a hole in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains. They were good little prairie dogs, or so they thought. They played nicely with each other (sometimes), kept the burrow clean (sometimes) and even listened to their mother (sometimes). They liked their burrow, and had lots of good grass and seats to eat. The six little prairie dogs had a good life.

They were neighbours with a burrowing owl family, and were good friends with their chicks. They didn’t see them very much, because the owls preferred to come out later, but the chicks liked to play almost as much as the prairie dogs and the mother owl wasn’t nearly as strict as the prairie dogs’.

The prairie dogs thought that their mother worried at little bit too much. She insisted that they not go too far from their burrow — the world was “big and dangerous,” she said, and they were small and many creatures might find them tasty. Their mother also forced them to return to the burrow at a moment’s notice, even if they were having fun playing or had found a particularly tasty patch of grass!

Their mother, the prairie dogs decided, was clearly overthinking things. Surely the world couldn’t be as dangerous as she thought. Nothing scared the cubs.

She is having none of it #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/JHIYxbTc9u

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

So slowly, as they got older, they started sneaking further away from the burrow. Whenever they could, they’d also wait a little longer to respond to their mother’s recall shout. Nothing bad ever happened. The world didn’t seem so big and dangerous after all.

One day, as they were playing, the little prairie dogs noticed the burrowing owl mother driving off a badger. “I wish she was our mother,” the eldest and most rebellious of the little prairie dogs. “Look how safe she keeps her family! Our mother just tells us never do to anything.”

The prairie dogs kept playing, glad that the badger had gone away. They’d never seen a predator before, but something told them them the badger was bad news. But with it gone, they could eat and play all day.

The eldest of the little prairie dogs was wrestling with his youngest sister when they heard their mother shouting for them to come home. “Let’s go back,” said his sister.

“Don’t be such a scaredy-dog,” said the eldest. “There’s nothing here that can hurt us. That badger went away ages ago. Mother’s just being ridiculous again. Stay and play.”

“Are you sure?” said his sister.

“Of course I’m sure.”

So the two little prairie dogs kept on wrestling.

The look your dad gives you when you announce that the whole family is going on a juice cleanse.#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/v7DH1OxmyS

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

For the rest of his short existence, the eldest of the now-five little prairie dogs had to live with the guilt of his sister’s death.

Aesthetics 7/10

The prairies are not the continent’s finest scenery, but the little prairie dogs are very cute. And quite tasty-looking.

Difficulty 6/10

The ending wasn’t very difficult, but the badger did a lot of hard work to sneak up on the prairie dogs. The burrowing owl attack was pretty good too.

Competitiveness 10/10

Badger against baby prairie dogs? Not a contest. But a little burrowing owl (8 ounces) taking on a whole-ass badger (20 pounds) to defend her young? That’s the stuff right there.

Bonus point for the, uh, ill-judged prairie dog wrestling.

Overall 22/30

Depressing sports. Also, listen to your mom, kids.

Scene 6: Meep Meep!

Like many others, I was devastated to discover that roadrunners were neither blue nor locked in an elaborate, contraption-fueled feud with technically adept but curiously stubborn coyotes. Roadrunners are, in fact, little brown birds that like to eat lizards. Here is one on the hunt.

Practising for when Coyote turns up.#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/vbRCqA2zxW

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

I was also devastated to find out that they don’t actually say “meep, meep”. It’s as though Looney Tunes was lying to me all along.

The roadrunner hunt is really quite odd. It doesn’t go after a gila monster (fair enough), and fails to chase down a couple of spindly-legged speedsters (fair enough), but it totally ignores a half-buried horny toad, and then at one point investigates a tasty-looking lizard of unknown description and instead of catching it lets it run away. And then chases after it.

I’m starting to suspect that roadrunners aren’t that smart. And with the lizard hunt not going very well, this one settles on a centipede. Job mediocrely done — my kind of bird.

Aesthetics 7/10

There’s a pure component to aesthetics, certainly. A goldeneye duck, for instance, is a beautiful bird in any context. But there’s also an aesthetic of time and place, and a roadrunner in the American West just feels right. It’s dusty and dirty chasing, after other dusty and dirty things, and while I might have preferred something blue and meepy, this’ll do.

Difficulty 5/10

Catching lizards in the heat can’t be easy, but there are so many unforced errors here it’s hard to give this a high difficulty score even when the hunt ends up mostly failing.

Competitiveness 8/10

Idiot bird vs. lizard seems like a pretty good fight.

Overall 20/30

Running aimlessly and mostly failing to get the job done? That’s a sport. I mean, I’ve just watched an Arsenal game.

Scene 7: Mullet Hunt

Somehow this is not a hair metal tribute band’s tribute band. I’m sorry if this disappoints you. Instead, we have grey mullet, a medium-sized coastal fish moving south with the currents off Florida. They’re moving south in vast numbers, too, with millions of fish heading towards their spawning grounds.

The mullet stay close to the shore in order to avoid the worst of the predators, yet somehow manage to go more or less undetected by the human sea-goers. But running in-shore only works for so long. Eventually the mullet draw the attention of a group of tarpon, large fish with a very large appetite. And so the hunt begins:

To get close to the mullet in the shallows, the tarpon turn on their sides now the mullet can’t see their shining silver flanks.#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/mhgpgzO4Jx

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

The tarpon gorge on the mullet, and are soon joined by sharks and pelicans. But no matter how many predators converge upon the giant school, they can’t make much of a dent in its numbers, and the mullet keep moving south sans a few thousand fish.

Aesthetics 9/10

I very much enjoy the overhead shots of bait fish, and it’s especially fun to see them having to move around predators (the tarpon are magnificent) as well as human interlopers.

Difficulty 6/10

The tarpon, sharks and pelicans have it pretty easy. The mullet are jammed so tight to the shore that there’s nowhere to escape, so they mostly don’t. For the mullet there’s safety in numbers, but only for reasons of sheer probability.

Competitiveness 5/10

Not much of a fight, but I think sheer weight of numbers plays a factor here. The tarpon are trying to reduce a population 10,000 times their size. Granted, they probably think that sounds more ‘delicious’ than ‘intimidating’, but it’s a relatively tall order.

Overall 20/30

Sure. Fishing is a sport.

Scene 8: Sea Cows

America’s swamps aren’t always hot and humid. The shape of the continent allows arctic weather systems to penetrate right down to the south coast, dropping the temperature below freezing. Alligators can go into a sort of cold fugue state, dropping their heart rate to a beat per minute and sticking their snouts above the ice to make sure they can still breathe. But manatees cannot, and so they need to migrate somewhere warmer.

The waters off Florida should still be too cold for them during the winter, but Florida is an unusual place, and that strangeness manifests itself here through some surprisingly benevolent hydrology. The peninsula’s underground river systems are significantly warmer than the sea, and that’s where manatees see out the cold.

Some manatee babies get bored of all the waiting and play an unusual game:

BBC Earth

Yes, that is an alligator

In the depths of winter it’s not sleepy alligators which threaten the manatees. Instead, it’s boats. Florida’s water-ways are obnoxiously packed with motorboats, and dozens of manatees are killed by propellor strikes every year. Many of those that don’t die bear the scars of collisions, which are common even on young manatees.

Maybe learn to sail, Florida?

Aesthetics 7/10

Manatees aren’t cute, but the overhead shots have a sort of dreamy quality, like we’re watching a surrealist film about ambulant gnocchi. Also, the frozen alligator is very cool.

Difficulty 10/10

The baby manatee annoys an alligator. ANNOYS. AN. ALLIGATOR.

Competitiveness 4/10

Ok, let’s be fair: it’s a pretty sleepy alligator.

Overall 21/30

Most of this sequence is not a sport. Annoying alligators? That’s definitely a sport, albeit one I must legally recommend you not partake in.

Scene 9: White Whaling

I knew I shouldn’t have used so many Herman Melville references in the first episode, because we now have a genuine white whale hunt on our hands. Canada is warming faster than any other country on the planet, which has led to some difficult times for polar bears. Used to hunting on sea ice, which gives them a platform and a means to ambush the marine mammals they eat, the bears have had to adapt to a warming climate in which ice is much rarer.

Fortunately, bears are adaptable. Along Hudson Bay, a group of bears has developed a new hunting technique: they go whaling.

Polar bears are so dependent on the ocean, they are officially classed as ‘marine mammals’.#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/pZzBtdLbFc

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

Bears, as it turns out, are not very good at chasing down belugas by swimming at them. But the older, smarter bears have a better technique: standing on a small rock, conveniently placed some distance into the water, and dive-bombing the whales as they swing by. This technique proves more fruitful, and one bloody encounter later, the bear is dragging a very dead whale to shore to share with his friends.

Polar bears are fucking terrifying.

Aesthetics 8/10

We’re used to seeing polar bears in icy conditions, so it’s quite nice to see them frolicking somewhere else.

Just a polar bear lying in a flower meadow #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/jiU5WDG7TO

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) December 1, 2019

As ever, the drone shots are magical.

Difficulty 10/10

An adult beluga can weigh up to 4,000 pounds. Imagine having to kill one in an ambush fast enough that it couldn’t escape.

Competitiveness 10/10

It takes a lot of brains and patience for the bears to overcome the fact the whales are far superior swimmers.

Overall 28/30

Diving is a sport, and it’s even more of a sport if you have to try to kill a whale with your teeth as you dive. From hell’s heart I bite at thee etc., etc., etc.

[yabookprize]

Nicola Yoon: ‘Books breed empathy’

YA author Nicola Yoon talks to us about writing and her debut novel being turned into a film:

What inspired The Sun is Also a Star?

It was inspired by a couple of things. Firstly, the Big History Project – it’s a theory of education that says if you want to teach a subject, you can’t teach it in isolation, you have to teach it in the larger context of everything else. I had this idea that I really wanted to tell a story where you’re not just telling the story of the two people falling in love, you’re telling the story of  everything surrounding them too – all the things that are pushing them together and pulling them apart. The other thing that inspired it was Carl Sagan, because I’m a huge fan and I actually got to see him lecture when I was in college. One of my favourite quotes is “in order to create something as simple as an apple pie, you have to invent the whole world”. I find that so inspirational because everything really is influencing each other. We are all connected and, even though we can’t see some of the connections sometimes, they are there. So, I had these two ideas in my head when I started writing it and those were the basic story structure inspirations.

The main characters are partly inspired by you and your husband. How much of the story is taken from real life?

I would say the spirit of the relationship in the book, but definitely not the details. I did not fall in love with [my husband] David over the course of 12 hours whilst being deported – we met in graduate in school. But we talk a lot, we’re both really philosophical people, we end up talking about big ideas all the time, we’ll stay up at night talking about God and science and art and that sort of thing, and in the book, Natasha and Daniel are like that. They fall in love with each other as much for their ideas of the world as anything else.

Were you nervous to write the book following the success of [Nicola’s first novel] Everything, Everything?

Definitely a little bit. Fortunately, I had written a good portion of The Sun is Also a Star by the time Everything, Everything came out so that was good. The thing that I had to adjust to was becoming a more public person. It wasn’t so much pressure to succeed again but you get to know what everyone thinks about your books, the positives and the negatives, and it’s sometimes hard to tune that out. It took me a little while to turn that volume down in my own head so that I could just focus on whatever I wanted to write.

A big focus in the book is immigration, which is a topical subject at the moment. Why did you decide to write about it?

It’s unfortunate that the way the book is resonating now is so negative with the discussions around immigration. When I wrote the book, immigration was in the general atmosphere but not the main headlines. I just wanted to write about immigration because it’s part of my experiences but also to take these big political ideas and humanise them a little bit. I think what gets lost in our discussions sometimes is that we’re talking about real people with real problems and real hopes and dreams. They are really not different than anyone else and I hope that I’ve been able to show that to readers, to people who are already sympathetic and people who are not quite so sympathetic. Books breed empathy and it’s hard to hate or fear what you can understand. If you live with a character for 400 pages, I think that you’ll start to understand a little bit more and maybe have a little bit more empathy.

Given the political climate at the moment, do you feel more responsibility as a writer?

I definitely feel more responsibility, but I felt lots of responsibility anyway because I write for teenagers and I think that they’re such a vulnerable group – they’re growing and changing and trying to figure out their place in the world. I do think that there are some kids out there who are feeling stressed and marginalised even further in the current political climate and I do hope that the books serve as a beacon and help them be less afraid of the world.

The main characters in your books are diverse. How important do you think it is to have diversity in books?

I think it’s really important for a few reasons. A writer’s job is to tell the truth and the truth is we live in a diverse world so to not reflect it is to ignore the world as it is. And like the immigration issue, we talk about diversity in terms of big headlines but it’s always really personal. Maddie in Everything, Everything looks the way she does because my daughter looks the way she does and I really wanted her to see herself in a book when she grew up. When I was younger, I didn’t really see that many girls that looked like me who were the main characters in books and I didn’t want my daughter to have to experience that. Everyone deserves to see themselves as the hero of the story, so diversity is really important to me and I really think it’s good for everyone. Like I said before, books breed empathy so if you can pay attention and get to know someone who’s not like you for a few hundred pages then you’re a better person for it.

How involved have you been with Everything, Everything being turned into a film?

MGM has been really great and gracious. They’ve let me give notes on the script and it was really nice to help to shape that. Partly, I got super-lucky because I ended up becoming really good friends with the director. We really just liked each other and she has the same vision for the movie that I did, so I ended up being in really good hands with her and discussing ideas with her. She has such a good way of translating some of the non-traditional aspects of the book into film, which was the thing I worried about the most. The instant messages and drawings and quirkier things in the book are hard to think about in film but she does a great job with it.

When you were writing the book, why did you choose to include those non-traditional aspects in it?

When I was writing Everything, Everything, I wrote from four to six a.m. because my daughter was four months old and I had a full-time job. At that time, very strange things occur to you because you’re half-asleep and one of the things that occurred to me was that because Maddie is trapped in her house, she would draw the world as a way to be closer to it. She can’t go outside, so she would try to draw the outside in. I love Hawaii and am sort of obsessed with it and I made her the same way and one morning it popped into my head that she would draw the Hawaiian state fish, which is called a humuhumunukunukuapua`a. I can’t draw at all so I woke my husband up and asked him to draw it for me and he got up and made coffee and drew the fish, no questions asked. It worked so well that I thought ‘I’m going to do more of this kind of thing’ so that is what started me down the path of playing with different formats.

Why did you choose to write for young adults?

It’s just one of those things where I had this story in my head and it turns out that there’s a marketing category for it. I find it a privilege to write for teenagers. I’m pretty philosophical and I think teenagers are naturally philosophical just by virtue of being teenagers. They are naturally questioning their place in the world and who they want to be and how the world works and what kind of place they want to have in it. So I think we’re a natural fit for each other because I’m always thinking about those things as well. I guess I think that the books are about young people but they’re for everybody. I definitely do feel a sense of responsibility and privilege that I’m talking to people who are still growing and changing that are the people who are going to run the world in the future. The most fun part of being on tour is when you go to festival where lots of kids are because when they are passionate, they are super-passionate and it’s wonderful.

What are you working on next?

I am writing the third book. I cannot say anything about it, except for that I’m writing it because I don’t want to get killed by my editor!